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the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
fucking on the edge of the bed, your hands cradling his face, your forehead pressed against his — his every thrust is as deep as he can be and you’re panting into each other’s mouths.
“i love you,” you say, hips rolling harder against his. “i love you, i love you, i love you.”
his thumb goes to rub haste circles against your clit, his mouth dry and smile breathless as your eyes roll into the back of your head and you moan his name. “i love you, baby.”
I've been going through some changes in my life since the beginning of May, so I'll be taking a break from Tumblr for a week or so to focus on my real life. This kind of marks the end of the drabble challenge for me (even though I still have some drabbles to share), but hopefully I'll have more time to spend on writing for my other projects (adrift & at peace part 2 & 3, levi week wips... and others™) when I'm back. Many thanks to everyone who have interacted with my works, it is greatly appreciated <3 Take care everyone and see you soon!
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synopsis: You sign up for a beginners yoga class at your gym. The instructor is not what you expected.
featuring: yoga instructor!levi ackerman x fem!reader
word count: 4.2k
contents: N/SFW, 2nd person pov, no use of y/n, modern au, semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected piv sex, inappropriate use of yoga poses
a/n: this was born from this little idea/headcanon thing a while back
⁀➷ read it on ao3 | masterlist
It was impossible not to notice that one fitness trainer at the gym you signed up for last month. He was compact and ridiculously sculpted. He looked like he was made of solid lean muscle. He could probably throw a 6’2 dude onto a mat without breaking a sweat.
You’d seen him around the gym in passing, wrapping his hands with tape or holding pads while some poor soul attempted to perform a side kick to his standard. His presence was definitely a highlight of your new membership. You even bent over backwards trying to subtly read his name from the tag dangling from his lanyard—Levi.
He taught some of the classes, too. Of course, the thought of joining a Muay Thai class, or whatever combat-related thing he led, just to nab him as an instructor was a little intimidating for your tastes. You ended up signing up for beginner yoga instead, feeling that it was a safer option.
The evening of your first class, you stepped through the studio door, feeling mildly proud of yourself for showing up early wearing a tatty oversized T-shirt and some comfortable leggings, and instantly stopped dead in your tracks. There, at the front of the room, stood Levi himself, barefoot and stretching in a fitted black sweat-wicking shirt.
“Oh, sorry,” you said as he looked up, cheeks warming. “I must be in the wrong place.”
Because, of course you were in the wrong place. You had been expecting an instructor with a ponytail and flowing linen pants, maybe a beaded bracelet. It didn’t even cross your mind that Levi would be the right man.
“You here for beginner yoga?” he asked before you could completely turn on your heel.
“Yes?” you said hesitantly.
He stood, raising one eyebrow. “You’re not lost. Grab a spot. Class starts soon.”
The class went about as well as you could have expected. You wobbled on your mat near the back of the class as Levi ran everyone through a relatively simple flow, consisting mostly of poses you’d seen before. Cat-cow, downward dog, cobra.
He made them all look easy as he demonstrated. Then, he’d occasionally walk through the room to inspect and adjust people’s poses. He seemed to be keeping an extra eye on you, stopping during nearly every pose to correct one thing or another. Your shoulders during Warrior I, your knees during Trikonasana.
Maybe he was just being extra attentive because you were the newbie in class. That was what you reasoned to yourself, anyway. But then, he came over to adjust your hips from behind during one downward dog while you were bent on your hands and feet, ass in the air. His fingers pressed lightly at your hip bones, very nearly startling you into tumbling onto your face.
“Lengthen your spine,” Levi told you, making the barely perceptible adjustment with his fingers, coaxing your ass higher.
Your breathing stumbled over itself, pulse ramping up as you tried to concentrate on the stretch in the back of your legs. He stepped away a moment later, and the rest of the class passed in a blur of trembling muscles and heated cheeks. When the final pose came, you sank gratefully onto the mat in relief.
As the rest of the class milled about a while longer, taking their time chatting and sipping from their water bottles, you scrambled to roll up your mat and make your escape. Apparently, Levi noticed because he called after you.
“See you next week?”
You nodded, nearly tripping as you backed toward the door. “Uh, yeah. See you next week.”
“You’ll only get better if you keep practicing,” he added, already turning away to another attendee.
“Right,” you said, your thoughts a tangled mess as you left.
After that first class, you started arriving to weekly classes in your nicest gym sets. No more oversized T-shirts with weird stains on them. You told yourself it wasn’t on purpose—you were just trying to blend in better with the other attendees. But if you were trying to get Levi’s attention, it had the intended effect.
Oh, Levi noticed, all right. He couldn’t help raking his gaze over you as he greeted you by the door. Cropped tops that showed off cute sports bras underneath, cupping whatever was underneath for his viewing pleasure. Leggings with the seams on the back that hugged your ass just right. He could barely keep his eyes off you any time you shifted from posture to posture. It was distracting, honestly. He caught himself watching the subtle flex and lengthening of your muscles, how you’d fight to imitate the poses he demonstrated.
Needless to say, he caught every detail. And he figured, if you were so determined to improve, he wouldn’t deprive you. If your stance was off, he was there at your side in a flash, palms sliding, fingers nudging, insistent. All the while, he thought he was being helpful, but he only succeeded in making you more and more flustered.
“You’re putting too much weight on your wrists,” Levi told you, again during downward dog. “You should be clawing your fingers into the mat. Bend into your knees if you can’t keep your shoulders aligned.”
You let out a frustrated huff and tried to correct your angle. His thumbs stroked the backs of your thighs, causing your skin to jolt. He sighed, disappointed.
“You’re too tight. You need to be stretching out your hamstrings,” he muttered as he pressed his thumbs a little deeper, almost kneading the stubborn tightness at the backs of your legs.
You bit back a moan, embarrassment flaring that you nearly let out such a shameful sound. Levi’s palm smoothed down the curve of your thigh before falling away, apparently giving up.
“Just breathe through it,” he said. “Don’t force anything.”
Humiliation burned through you as he moved on. You desperately wanted to get the poses right. Why was this so hard for you? Was everyone else getting this level of attention? You didn’t dare look; you didn’t want to know.
Levi stopped you after class one day to give you a list of poses to practice on your own at home. "You'll see a difference if you stick to these,” he said. “Most people don’t put in the work outside of class.”
It was as if he had sensed your mounting frustration. You brightened, hoping your smile didn’t come off too eager. “Thanks. I will.”
The week crawled by. You were sore in places you never thought possible from fighting your way through the stretches Levi had recommended in your living room. It was probably pathetic as hell that your primary motivation to improve had become a merciless 5’3 gym rat, but hey, at least you were still consistently going to the class you were paying extra for.
Plus, you were getting pretty confident now. You were setting up your mat closer to the front now, showing up in skimpier exercise clothes with sheer panels and generous cut-outs, arching your back with extra gusto during cat-cow whenever Levi looked your direction.
“Good, that’s better,” he said as his palm flattened against your back during your erstwhile nemesis, the downward dog. “You’re making progress. That hamstring work is paying off.”
You bit your lip, your head upside-down and hovering above the mat, staring at his well-built calves between your legs. This position was way too provocative—him standing behind your bent form, hands at your hip and back. It was practically vulgar. Unable to help yourself, you rocked backwards, just enough to briefly brush your ass against his crotch.
“Oh, sorry!” you said, affecting surprise, as if you weren’t expecting him to be standing so close.
“Don’t apologize. That’s what adjustments are for.”
He sounded entirely unbothered, but his cock was already stirring in his gym shorts. Christ, you really shouldn’t have done that. He’d been holding back for weeks, thinking you were only coming back to class again and again strictly to improve, and the last thing he’d wanted to do was scare you off. But now, Levi couldn’t ignore that heat between you any longer.
His hand slid firmly down over the globe of your ass, giving it a light but deliberate squeeze. Your face flooded with heat, your eyes darting around the room, but everyone had their heads down, focusing on their breathing and form.
“Let’s move into puppy pose,” Levi announced.
There was a rustle as the others lowered down onto their knees. Skin prickling, you followed suit, walking your hands forward while keeping your hips over your knees to melt your chest into the mat. You felt your upper body stretch into the pose.
“Keep breathing. Chin to the mat, weight should be in your hands,” Levi added, addressing the whole class, but you could feel him closing in behind you.
You swallowed a gasp as he knelt, hard abs brushing against your ass as his hands slid up your sides and over your ribs. He was so close you could barely think, hyperaware of how compromising the position of your two bodies likely looked from the outside. Levi pressed the tips of his fingers into you, right beneath the edge of your sports bra.
“Open up through here,” he said, his low voice rumbling just beside your ear.
You breathed in shakily, feeling your chest expand into his palms. Fuck, you were in trouble. You could feel the wetness blooming between your legs. The tight leggings you wore tended to show off everything, so you had opted for a barely-there thong. What if you were soaking through the fabric?
“That’s it,” he said, thumbs gently drawing circles into your skin before leaning in closer. “Stay after class. I think you need a private lesson.”
Then, he was gone, moving off to another mat and leaving you trembling.
“O—ohh—!” You were supposed to be reaching over your head for your toes, but your hand flew to your mouth to stifle your noises.
“Feel that side stretch? Good, lean into it.”
It was just you and Levi in the studio now, the doors locked and the lights dimmed. The class had drawn to a close, and the gym was winding down now that it was nearly closing time. You were sitting sideways on your mat, right leg extended, left bent with your foot trembling against your inner thigh. One of the easier poses for you now after so much practice, to be honest, except it was really fucking difficult to hold with Levi distracting you.
He was kneeling behind you, pressed up against your back, his hands running everywhere all over you. Caressing your hips, brushing over the inside crease of your thighs, along your ribs and beneath the damp, stretchy fabric of your sports bra to fondle your tits. Your top had been flung off and forgotten, leaving your arced neck exposed for Levi’s tongue to loll out and lick a cool stripe up your heated, shivery skin.
“You’re supposed to be reaching.” He grabbed the hand cupping your mouth and guided it back to the right place, ignoring your whine of protest. “Keep your spine long and the left sitz bone down. Don’t fight it. Here, let me help.”
He bore down on your left thigh with just enough pressure to keep your ass grounded to the mat. The deep pull along your hip was a sharp twin to the ache building low in your belly.
“F—fuck…Levi—”
“See? You’re flexible enough,” he said, his breath fanning hot over your ear.
He was supposed to be walking you through compass pose, a pretty advanced pose you were certain was outside of your reach. Levi had insisted you had improved enough to get close to it, and you had actually started to believe him. Until he started touching you like that.
Presently, his right hand slipped its way past the elastic waistband of your leggings, easily bypassing the wet strip of your thong to find your pussy. The sensation of his fingers parting your folds startled you, shivering down your spine and forcing a too-loud moan from your lips. You glanced, panicky, toward the door out of the corner of your eye, wary of passing gym workers or custodians.
“So sensitive,” Levi said, tilting your head back against his shoulder with his free hand. He leaned in and kissed you, slow and open-mouthed.
You let out a muffled squeak as his tongue traced yours. His fingers dipped down to gather the humid wetness at your entrance and smeared it up over your clit, beginning to slowly spiral over the swollen bundle of nerves. He pressed his mouth into yours, tongue coaxing for a long moment before breaking the kiss and licking another slow stripe up your neck. You gasped, arching further into him.
“That’s good,” he murmured, tugging your sports bra up to bunch beneath your armpits, freeing your tits to the cool studio air. “Stay with your breath.”
His thumb found your nipple and rolled it between his fingers until it stiffened under his touch. A shudder ran through you, and you could barely remember to keep your leg extended, the stretch wavering.
“Don’t lose the line,” Levi scolded gently, doing nothing to mitigate his effect on you.
You bit down on a desperate moan, your hips bucking, thighs straining as he toyed with you. Fuck, you were absolutely dripping, making a mess of his hand wedged in the sweltering confines of your leggings.
Levi gave your nipple a final teasing twist before releasing it and guiding you by the ribs to sit back upright. “Focus. We’re moving onto the leg cradle.” He pressed a kiss to your nape, grazing his teeth along the tender skin behind your ear but refusing to withdraw his hand from your pussy. “Pick up your right leg and cradle it like a baby.”
Shakily, you followed his instructions, lifting your calf toward your chest. Levi pressed himself against your back and adjust your arm’s hold on your leg.
“Rock it from side to side. Let your hip loosen.”
You rocked awkwardly once, moaning at the friction of his fingers on your clit, then froze. Something thick and semi-hard was nudging into the cleft of your ass. Levi shifted behind you, letting his cock grind more deliberately against you, making it clear the graze hadn’t been an accident. You felt your cunt practically gush.
“Relax. You’re much more open than you were a few weeks ago. Your body’s responding fast.”
He pushed two fingers into you without warning, feeling the slick heat of your pussy clench instinctively around him. Your head dropped back onto his shoulder, a ragged gasp tearing from your throat. Levi kept his left arm wrapped solidly around your waist, holding you steady so you didn’t collapse as he worked his fingers in slow, unhurried thrusts.
You were supposed to be rocking your leg, but all you could do was jerk and shudder, hips moving of their own accord as Levi searched for that sensitive spot inside you. He found it quickly, the soft, spongy patch that made you arch and cry out. Your reaction made his cock swell, the tip leaking and dampening the inside lining of his shorts.
“Good girl. Next step. You’re gonna hook the knee over behind your shoulder.”
“Behind the—?” His words cut through the hazy fog of pleasure. You swallowed hard, hips twitching against his steadily pumping fingers. “Levi, my leg definitely doesn’t go that way.”
“It does,” he said. “I guarantee it.”
“N—no, I don’t think so,” you protested as he moved his hand to your knee.
You yelped as he began to guide your leg up, up—
“Wait!” you said, heart hammering. You lost your balance, wobbling on your sitz bones and nearly falling over if not for Levi letting your leg fall and grabbing you.
“Tch. What’s the matter?” he asked, adopting his usual disapproving tone again. “Hamstrings too tight? Still not stretching properly, I see.”
You whined as he pulled his fingers out of you. He maneuvered you forward, arranging your body onto your hands and knees and roughly grinding the thick line of his cock against your ass.
“On your back,” he directed, voice gone hoarse. “I’m gonna stretch you out.”
You barely managed to turn over onto your back before he was kneeling between your thighs. Levi hauled your hips up into his lap like you weighed nothing at all. The mat bunched awkwardly beneath your spine as his hands dug into the backs of your knees, pushing your legs up and out, spreading you wide.
“Look at you,” he murmured, smoothing his thumbs along your sprawled inner thighs. “You wanna open up for me, don’t you?”
He kneaded at the tight muscles, teasing and pushing until you gasped in his hold. His biceps flexed against the tight short sleeves of his shirt, making you ache all over to be filled by him again.
“Focus,” Levi snapped, snatching your right leg against his chest and leaning forward over you.
You whimpered as he forced your knee as close as it would to go your chest, the deep stretch in your hamstring more pleasure than pain. He pressed his cock against your clothed cunt as he shoved your sports bra over your head, discarding it unceremoniously and lowering his head to take one of your tight, aching nipples into his mouth.
“Oh my—fuck!” you bit out, sinking your fingers into his soft, dark hair as he flicked his tongue back and forth against your sensitive peak. His body kept your thigh pinned high and open. You felt practically folded in half, exposed and dripping through the crotch of your leggings.
“See how much deeper you can go when you don’t fight it?” he said between hungry, wet suckles. “You’ve never been this open before, have you?”
You shook your head, lost for words. Levi rolled his hips, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against the desperate heat between your legs, only the barrier of spandex and polyester separating you. The friction was maddening. You arched up with a breathy moan, seeking more.
Levi let up with a growl, releasing your leg and sitting back on his haunches to yank your leggings down over your hips. They tangled at your thighs, your thong underneath stretched taut over your mound. In a frenzy, you lifted up to help him, wriggling your hips. He tore the clingy fabric past your feet and tossed them aside, then paused to admire you, his gaze devouring every inch.
“You’re soaked,” he said, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head to bare the glistening, taut muscle of his torso. For a beat, you could only stare, awestruck by the sculpted shoulders, narrow waist, and the tight vein that ran along his abdomen and disappeared into his shorts.
His thumbs hooked into the waistband of his shorts next, lowering them down just enough to free himself. The thick length of his cock sprang up, smacking audibly against his hard abs. You moaned, leaning back onto your elbows and eagerly spreading your thighs again.
“Not sure you deserve my cock,” he said, wrapping one hand around his length and crowding forward to rub the head of it through your slick folds. “I thought you were coming to class to make progress, and you’ve barely improved as much as I expected.” He gave a slow, disappointed shake of his head, stroking the head of his cock in a lazy circle against your clit. “You barely tried to keep your knee up. I told you I wanted to see that stretch.”
“I—I was trying,” you whined, nudging your hips closer to attempt to rub yourself against him. “The pose is—a-ah—too advanced…”
Levi drew back, just out of your reach. “Excuses. But you do want it, don’t you? Want to feel me stretch you out for real?”
“Y—yes, fuck—I want it—”
“Well, c’mon. If you want it, show me,” Levi commanded. “You know how to beg, don’t you?”
You writhed, bucking your hips in desperation. His free hand pinned your hip down.
“Levi, please!” you begged, gripping the backs of your thighs and hauling yourself as open as you were able for him. “Please—fuck!”
He pressed in, just the tip, and the stretch sent a shock through you.
“C’mon,” he chided, rocking shallowly just at your entrance. “You know how to push through the burn now. Breathe for me.”
You sucked in a trembling breath as the thick head of his cock pushed deeper, splitting you open with gradually deeper thrusts. Levi watched your face, eyes locked on the pinch of your brows and the helpless roll of your head against the mat.
“That’s it,” he said. “You can take more, I know you can.”
He pulled out a little and paused before rolling his hips forward again, harder this time. The burn was sharp, but it melted into aching pleasure almost instantly. You gasped, clinging to the backs of your thighs, trembling to keep your knees spread wide.
Without waiting for you to adjust, Levi started snapping his hips, forcing your walls to adjust as he fucked himself in and out of you. Every thought fled your mind as he stretched you, stuffing your pussy impossibly full with each thrust. You felt like you were going to break in half, thanks in no small part to Levi’s hands pressing your knees even closer to your shoulders until you were practically folded up.
“Looks like all those forward folds paid off,” he said, pleased, watching his thick cock getting sucked repeatedly into your squelching hole. “See how deep you take me when you’re like this? Knew you’d take me so well.”
“F—fuck… deep—” you parroted back to him, thoughts incoherent.
Levi huffed an amused scoff and pulled out, turning you over onto your side and shoving his length back inside you again. Your nails scrabbled at the padding of the mat beneath you as he lifted your leg high, allowing him in deeper.
“Wouldn’t be able to do this without all those hip opening stretches, huh? Aren’t you glad I made you practice?” He reached down to tweak your nipples roughly as he spread you so wide you were nearly in a straddle stance.
You were dazed, lost in the rhythm of his brutal thrusts and barely able to register how easily he manhandled you. “Levi—ah! Fuck, Levi—”
The way he rutted into you without mercy rocked your entire body, the collisions of his hips jolting you rapidly and sloppily against the mat. The rubbery material burned your skin, but you were too delirious to notice, your frame racked with throbs of white-hot pleasure.
Levi groaned out his appreciation, eyes fixated on the way your body pliantly twisted and stretched for him. You were so good, so eager to please, letting him handle and manipulate your limbs as he liked. His good little student, so needy and trembling. He couldn’t resist giving your ankle a squeeze.
“Stay with me. Don’t slack off now. Open up for me.”
You fought to keep your leg up like he wanted, hands clutching at the mat. Your cunt clung to his cock, heat and wetness pulsing around him with every plunge. “Fuck, Levi, it’s too much—”
His grip on your calf turned to iron, holding you wide as he angled his hips, searching until he heard the gasp. You let out a shattered cry, leg straining against his grasp as his cock ground against that sensitive spot he found with his fingers earlier.
“That’s it. Right there, isn’t it?” he rasped. He shifted his free hand from your tits down to your pussy and began pressing firm circles to your engorged clit.
The pressure was sharp and direct, and you shrieked, quivering violently into his grip. “O—ohhh, fuck, fuck! Oh, god—!”
Levi hummed in satisfaction, pounding you dizzy into the mat. You were taking him so good, every inch of him. He couldn’t take his eyes off how your sloppy little hole clung to him so hard that he was practically struggling to pull his length out and in. Struggling enough, that is, that he gave up the tactic entirely to shove himself in and rock deep inside you.
“Don’t hold back,” he demanded. “Let me hear you.”
You keened at the fullness, too limp to do anything except take all of him. His tip bruising at your cervix and his girth reaching every inch of your walls, pressing up deliciously against your g-spot. Together, with the unrelenting attention of his fingers on yourclit, drove you higher, higher—
“Fuck! I’m cumming—I’m—” You broke apart, convulsing with the force of your orgasm with residual mutters of, cumming, cumming, cumming—losing all sense of your surroundings, vision gone white and heart hammering behind your ribs. Your leg kicked up, shaking frantically in his grasp, but Levi held you meanly oh, so open as your pussy pulsed hard around his pistoning cock.
He groaned out your name as he pulled himself free and stroked himself furiously over you, letting go with a hoarse sound. Hot ropes of his cum streaked across your tits and hip, dribbling down over your stomach and glistening in the dim studio light.
You rolled limply onto your back, sprawled out beneath him, breathing hard and quivering. Levi’s palm smoothed over your calf as he watched you, cum-smeared and sticky with sweat, the last shudders of his orgasm shivering through his tight abs.
“You see?” he said, voice thick with satisfaction. “Told you you were capable, didn’t I?” He ran his thumb slowly over your ankle, enjoying the way you twitched. “Now, wait until you see what kind of positions I can put you in if you keep practicing.”
Thanks for reading! likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I'm writing my first full-length fic in over 5 years!!!
I'd like to thank my roommate for getting me back into AOT, my asshole cat for adding quite a few extra letters and keyboard smashes to my rough draft, and Celestial Seasoning's cinnamon apple spice tea for getting me through this first chapter!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Everyone knows Professor Ackerman, the hard-ass professor that people swear looks like he just graduated yesterday.
Professor Ackerman who has his office bookshelf packed full of books from his time getting his degrees. His entire bookshelf somehow stacked perfectly to fit each book in alphabetical order.
Professor Ackerman who says 'rate my professor' holds no merit. Who has a perfectly balanced 3.5 for both difficulty and overall rating. A split 50/50 for would take again.
Professor Ackerman who teaches history, specifically the really weird parts you only learn in college.
Professor Ackerman who has his degree in Anthropology and Archaeology.
Professor Ackerman who hates the term "ancient fertility rituals" and rants about it in class, saying "Just say they were horny, people are people for as long as time has existed. They're going to be gross and weird, so make that known."
Professor Ackerman who's office is bare except for the bookshelf, the computer that every professor has, a kettle sat in the corner on a small antique table, and one picture frame that no students have ever gotten a look at.
Professor Ackerman who won't respond to emails if they aren't professional enough. He worked hard for this degree, he deserves respect for it.
Professor Ackerman who really hates that his students can email him, who would never even consider giving his students his phone number.
Professor Ackerman who will reach out if a regular in his class doesn't show, saying that it was 'just to tell them to get the notes from someone else in their class and stay up to date on the work' but he'd never let it be known that he secretly really cared about his students.
Professor Ackerman who is harsh when giving feedback for essays. Loves printed copies because he gets to use his nice pens to mark them up. Fills every margin on those printed pages with corrections or feedback. You're lucky if he gives any praise to any part of your essay.
Professor Ackerman who has very limited office hours, only about 2 a week.
Professor Ackerman who has to have meetings with the anthropology department, as he is the chair of it.
Professor Ackerman who knows every anthropology major, he will ask them how they are doing if he sees them roaming about on campus.
Professor Ackerman who will complain about the University directly to students in class. The cafe food was bad? He's complaining that they need to hire more staff and make it easier to give them feedback on the food they prepare. A student is complaining about the lack of parking? He is already listing all the shitty things about each parking lot and why he hates it so much, even as a professor who lived close enough to walk.
Professor Ackerman who is well known on campus for a few things, namely always looking pissed off at something or other.
Professor Ackerman who will complain to his students when he gets stuck teaching in the basement of buildings/ rooms with no windows.
Professor Ackerman who looks forward to the mainly major-focused classes he teaches. Smaller class sizes, mainly students he already knows.
Professor Ackerman who will be in the middle of lecturing, on a roll with what he is saying, before his phone rings. He is out the door before the third one, leaving students to look up from their computers to wonder where he went.
Professor Ackerman who, every friday, gets berated to go to the cafe for 5 dollar friday. Who always says that he refuses to eat the cafe food.
Professor Ackerman who students actually adore after they finish their classes with him. Who begrudgingly starts to give his number to students who ask for it.
Professor Ackerman who one day during a random weekend, is seen walking around campus with a toddler and you stood on the other side of the toddler.
Professor Ackerman who had multiple students of his come up to him and ask who you were. They were all wide eyed come to find he was married with a kid.
Professor Ackerman who claims that they "should've known" since, after all, that was the one picture on his desk. A picture of the three of you on a sunny day, covered in paint after your toddler wanted to paint outside with you two.
Professor Ackerman who has to start bringing both of you two campus more often, by request of his students.
Professor Ackerman who's computer screen saver is of you in the rain that he took a few years back. Who's students only ever see it for a second before he switches tabs and fills the screen with the thing he meant to show.
its shit and I don't really care, I got bored and wrote this during my finals and never posted it. I dont want it in my drafts anymore so here you go.
i love fics that feel so... grown. fics about adults that were written by adults who have years of life experience under their belts who pour that into their writing. fics where you can tell this is a person who has lived through a marriage or a divorce or a child or children or parent death or any number of Huge Life Events because the way they write with an emphasis on the highs and lows of the human experience rather than an emphasis on tropes (not throwing shade) is just so. oh man, it's just so fucking good. if my blorbos are grown men, grown women, grown people, i love it when they feel like grown people, not just extensions of the (young) author's imagination. (still not throwing shade). you know?
The boys in the Seijoh frat talk about their dates and hookups all the time, but when you decide to meet up with a cute guy from Hinge, they go berserk.
"We're just grabbing a drink," you reassure them. "I'll probably be home by like 11:00."
It's 10:55 and you're not home yet. They've all set up camp in the living room. Every few seconds, one of them looks at the door but it's stagnant each time they glance over.
Iwa is pretending to read a book, but he hasn't turned the page in over ten minutes. He keeps reading the same line over and over again and not retaining any information.
Makki has been staring at the pantry for half an hour, trying to decide what to make for his typically late dinner. He lifts up a box of breadcrumbs for the fourth time and looks over the nutrition label before putting it back, looking over the label on a different box, and yet again picking up the breadcrumbs.
Mattsun flicks through the recommended movies on his Netflix until he runs out of titles. He moves on to standup specials, then anime, and then Netflix Originals.
Oikawa feels the need to do something while he's waiting for your safe return. First, he cleans the bathroom. Then he takes out the recycling and keeps a lookout for your form walking home under the streetlights. He's lying on the floor with a volleyball clutched tight to his chest when he finally says something. "We should text them, right? Or see if they need one of us to give them a ride?"
Iwaizumi sighs. "They're an adult. They can make their own choices, and they know they can contact us if they need to."
"I saw them pull their phone off the cord in their room before leaving," Mattsun adds. "So it's definitely charged."
Makki opens the box of breadcrumbs, looks inside, then closes it and puts it back on the shelf. "I wish they told us what bar they were going to."
Dread washes over the four of them.
Suddenly, the doorknob jostles and the boys startle. You look just as you did when you left the house. Not a hair is out of place and they can't detect any wrinkles in your clothes.
Oikawa checks the time. 10:58.
"How was it?" Iwa's voice comes out strained and slightly robotic.
"It was fine," you say through a yawn. "He was kind of boring, though. I feel like I did all the talking."
"So you didn't see his dick?"
You shoot Makki a pointed look. "You wish I saw his dick, perv."
He holds up the breadcrumbs. "Want some fried chicken?"
You're confused by the way they're all looking at you like you have food on your face or blood coming out of your nose and no one wants to tell you what's wrong. "Are you guys okay?"
"Yup."
"Just peachy."
"All good."
"Chicken with rice maybe? I've also got some potatoes lying around."
You look between the boys, baffled. "Whatever, I'm going to bed." You head to your room and four pairs of eyes follow you until they hear your door click shut.
Their collective sigh is heavy. "That was close," Oikawa speaks up.
Mattsun stands to lock the front door, and everyone feels a little safer after he slides the chain into place.
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