#it feels like they were high when they make it

[mercvry-glow]

Hey Lover

parings. jack abbot x younger!reader

warnings. age gap (jack late 40s, reader late 20s/early 30s), hospital setting, reader has a sprained ankle, reader isn't treated the best by the ed, nothing too serious overall, reader is considered to be bratty, some suggestive parts but it’s just comments between reader and jack, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. I love jack and younger reader, I felt there was a lot of me in this one lol! since so many of you requested this hopefully y'all don't find her demeanor annoying, I read it as the reader is a bit scared and defensive knowing that the ed doesn't particularly like her for whatever reason. but as always please enjoy and feedback is appreciated as always!

wc. 2200+

You could admit you weren’t the easiest person to get along with.

You liked your oat milk lattes extra hot, your lip gloss to match your water bottle, and your schedule planned down to the exact minute. You didn’t do chaos. And people around here—meaning, this godforsaken hospital where your fiancé worked twelve-hour trauma shifts—tended to mistake that kind of organization for being high-maintenance.

And Fine. You were a little high-maintenance. But you weren’t mean… And you definitely didn’t deserve to be sitting in some back hallway of the PTMC ER with your hair still in a claw clip, mascara running down your cheeks, and one ankle the size of a grapefruit.

You sighed dramatically, shifting on the gurney. Your baby blue workout hoodie was streaked with tears and did little to hide the shame you felt in this very moment. Your phone was cracked. And worst of all—your favorite pilates socks had blood on them.

Today was not your day.

“I’ve been here for forty-five minutes,” you muttered, crossing your arms and wincing when your movement tugged your wrapped foot. “And if one more person tells me to ‘just wait,’ I’m going to scream.”

The nurse behind the little desk—tight bun, tired eyes, and feeling high and mighty—didn’t even look up. “Ma’am, we’re triaging other trauma patients—”

“I am also a trauma,” you said, gesturing at your foot. “Just because it happened in pilates at 5am and not a bar doesn’t make it less traumatic. I heard a crack.”

From across the nurses’ station, someone mumbled, “No wonder Dr. Abbot keeps her a secret.”

You froze. The room spun a little, but not from the injury.

Jack.

You blinked hard, biting down on your tongue. You knew what they thought. What they always thought. That Jack Abbot—with his calm voice, sharp eyes, and salt-and-pepper curls—couldn’t possibly be serious about you. That you were too much. Too loud. Too shiney. Too young.

But he’d never made you feel like that. Not once.

You tucked your phone tighter under your arm and exhaled through your nose, preparing to wait another hour—until the door to another room swung open into the hallway.

There he was.

Jack in a white long-sleeve under his scrubs, his stethoscope around his neck, and his hazel eyes already scanning the room. When he saw you—half-dressed like a ladies health magazine, clutching a cracked phone and looking entirely out of place—his whole face changed.

“ Are you serious right now?” he muttered, storming toward you. “Why didn’t anyone tell me you were here?”

“She didn’t ask for you,” someone muttered.

Jack didn’t even look at them. He was crouched in front of you already, gently brushing his hand over your shin, checking the wrap someone had done.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you said quietly, lip wobbling just a bit. “It’s just an ankle. And, like… mild humiliation.”

His jaw ticked. “It’s not just anything if you’re hurt.”

“I fell trying to do that stupid split thing you like—”

He gave you a look.

“Okay, gracefully collapsed trying to do the split thing. And my instructor screamed, so then I screamed, and I cried in front of a room full of strangers.”

“Sweetheart.”

“I ruined my socks.”

Jack sighed and kissed the top of your knee, just above the bandage. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Take me home? Get me out of this place in a timely manner?”

His laugh was quiet but real, and he kissed you again, this time on the forehead.

Behind him, someone coughed pointedly. He stood, slowly.

“She needs a reevaluation. Now.”

The nurse gave a half-hearted “x-ray is backed up” shrug.

Jack’s tone turned colder than ice. “Then she’s priority after critical. Or get someone who cares and tell them why I’m walking my injured fiancée to get care, myself.”

That got people moving.

Jack helped you up, one arm tight around your waist. You clung to him dramatically, batting your lashes like you weren’t totally milking the attention—but under it, you could feel his heart racing.

“You okay?” you asked, glancing up.

His voice dropped low. “Not until you are.”

You smiled, a little smug. “Told you pilates was dangerous.”

He just shook his head, holding you closer. “I should’ve never let you sign up.”

“You didn’t let me. You said, and I quote, ‘try not to flirt with your instructor this time.’”

“Yeah, well. Next time I’m going with you.”

“You in pilates?” You snorted. “Please. Your hips are too tight.”

“I have very flexible hips, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Bed's ready,” a night shift nurse called.

You smirked at Jack. “To be continued.”

He groaned. “This is why they all hate you.”

You winked. “They only hate me ‘cause you love me, other than that I don’t know.”

And by the way he looked at you—like he’d walk through fire just to kiss you again—you knew you were absolutely right.

The space they gave you wasn’t fancy, but it was private. Probably borrowed from someone in observation or cleared just for Jack’s peace of mind. He didn’t say a word as he helped you onto the bed, tucking a blanket over your legs like you were made of glass.

“I’m not dying,” you said, wrinkling your nose as he fussed with your ankle.

“You’re really annoying,” he muttered. But his hands were gentle, steady as always, checking your range of motion and rewrapping your foot with crisp, even lines.

You watched him work, the little furrow between his brows, the tiny flecks of gold in his hazel eyes that always showed up when he was worried. His curls were a little messy, probably from running his hand through them a hundred times today, and his sleeves were pushed up, exposing the veins on his forearms you’d once drunkenly referred to as "your Roman Empire."

“You’re staring,” he said without looking up.

“You’re so hot,” you replied simply.

Jack huffed but didn’t argue.

He finished taping your ankle and stood, brushing your hair back from your face. “You’re gonna be okay. It’s a sprain, not a break, but you need to stay off of it for at least a week. Actually stay off it, not your version of resting.”

“Which is?”

“Pilates in a boot.”

You grinned. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“I’ll cancel your gym membership myself.”

You gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I pay for it, try me.”

You didn’t win that stare-down. He kissed your forehead again instead.

“Get some rest. I’ll check in after I get off here in a few.”

You pouted. “You’re leaving me?”

Jack gave you a look. “I’m an attending. I can’t just disappear mid-surge.”

“Tell Robby I said please, I saw him walking around.”

That got a faint laugh out of him. “No more sass. Be good.”

You made an angelic face. “I’m always good.”

He was halfway out the door when you added, “And please ask someone if they can bring me an ice water! Or tell them you’ll do it.”

“I just said—”

You batted your lashes.

Jack muttered something under his breath and disappeared into the hallway.

Twenty minutes later, Jack was standing near the lockers, hands on hips, when Robby stepped in with two bottled waters and a raised eyebrow.

“Your girl okay?” he asked, handing Jack one.

Jack nodded, cracking the lid open. “Sprained her ankle trying to impress a pilates instructor, apparently.”

“Sounds like her.” Robby sat beside him, stretching his legs out with a sigh. “She looked like she was about to throw hands when the nurse offered her ice chips.”

Jack huffed out a quiet laugh. “That tracks.”

“She really hates being fussed over, huh?”

Jack shot him a look.

“Okay,” Robby amended, hands up in mock surrender, “unless it’s by you.”

Jack didn’t argue. He leaned back against the wall, letting the silence hang a minute before Michael spoke again—more careful this time.

“She’s got some… strong energy going on today.”

Jack didn’t respond right away. Just glanced down at the bottle in his hands, then back up. “You don’t have to pretend you like her, man.”

“I’m not trying to judge,” Robby said, more gently. “You know that. I just… never pictured you with someone so… you know.”

“She’s also the first person I’ve met who makes me laugh like hell and still checks if I’ve eaten when I forget to eat. And she always puts me first. Even when it costs her.”

Robby’s brow creased slightly, more thoughtful than anything. “I get that. I do.. She always asks if I’m looking after you, like I’m the one keeping you alive.”

Jack’s lips twitched. “You kinda are.”

“Okay, but—” Robby pointed a finger at him. “She brings you little smoothie things and reminds you to call your sister and randomly knows what you need on your worst days. I see that. Doesn’t mean I fully get her, but I’m not against her.”

Jack finally relaxed, his shoulders dropping a bit.

“She’s not always easy,” he admitted. “But she’s real. And when it’s just the two of us? She’s… soft. Like, the kind of soft I didn’t know I wanted. She brings out all this stupid shit in me.”

Robby tilted his head. “You’re kind of a sap.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Jack deadpanned.

Robby smirked, bumping his shoulder. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Just then, a nurse poked her head around the corner, clearly amused. “Dr. Abbot? Your fiancée says she can’t find her lip balm and her lips feel like they’re about to crack. She says quote—‘You know the one I mean.’”

Jack didn’t even blink. “Little pink tube, side pocket of her purse. Tell her I’ll grab it.”

The nurse grinned and ducked back out.

Robby blinked slowly. “You really do know her inside out.”

Jack shrugged, already standing. “She’d do the same for me.”

As he disappeared down the hall, Robby watched him go, still smiling. He might not fully understand your dynamic—but he didn’t have to. Jack was happy, the girl loved him, and honestly? That was more than enough as a friend. 

A bit later you had barely settled into your space—fluffy blanket over your lap, perfectly stacked hospital pillows behind your back, and a comically large cup a nurse had left on the tray—when a soft knock hit the doorframe.

You glanced up, lip gloss freshly reapplied despite the fact you were still in the hospital.

Michael leaned in with his hands in the pockets of his blue hoodue, looking not nearly as judgmental as you were expecting.

“Hey,” he said, voice lower than usual. “Jack’s finishing up his last consult, so I figured I’d check in. How’s the ankle?”

You gave a bright (but very practiced) smile. “Swollen, hideous, and humiliating. But I’m surviving. Thank you.”

Robby chuckled lightly, stepping further in. “Well, the good news is you’ll walk again.”

“Oh, thank god. I was already mentally rearranging my living room for crutches.” You paused, then added, “I promise I wasn’t being dramatic earlier. I just… hate being in here. Even not as a patient, hospitals just freak me out.”

His brow lifted slightly. “You hang around one enough.”

“Yeah, but usually I’m here with iced coffee and lunch for my fiance, not a bum ankle.”

He smiled at that, leaning a shoulder against the wall. “You really do come in like a hurricane when Jack’s on shift.”

You looked down, suddenly fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “Yeah. Sorry if I’ve been too much. I know I’m not exactly… subtle.”

Robby tilted his head. “You’re not.”

You blinked, and he quickly added, “But you clearly care about him. And that counts for a lot.”

You looked up again, surprised.

“I wasn’t sure at first,” he continued, more thoughtful now. “You’re different from what I imagined for him. But then I saw how he talks about you. How he looks at you.”

You felt your face heat up.

“He’s a lot lighter with you around,” Robby said simply. “Which is wild, because I didn’t even think that was possible.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “He’s not really the warm-and-fuzzy type.”

“No, but he’s yours,” Robby said with a small shrug. “And that seems to be working out.”

You stared at him for a second, then leaned back against your pillows. “So… you don’t hate me?”

“I never hated you,” Robby said honestly. “I just didn’t know you.”

You let out a soft breath, genuinely touched. “Well. You’ve officially been upgraded to my favorite of Jack’s coworkers.”

“That’s a low bar,” he quipped. “But I’ll take it.”

The curtain rustled suddenly and Jack poked his head in, curls messier than beforer and his hazel eyes immediately scanning you.

“You good?” he asked.

“She’s fine,” Robby said before you could speak, already backing up toward the door. “Being brave. And dramatic. But mostly brave.”

Jack gave you a long, warm look. “Dramatic is her default.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

Michael was already halfway out the door. “Later, lovebirds.”

Once it was just the two of you, Jack pulled up a chair beside your bed and took your hand.

“You okay?”

“I will be,” you said softly. “Especially now that I know your work bestie doesn’t think I’m a total disaster.”

Jack smirked. “You are a total disaster. But you’re my disaster.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“Shut up and kiss me, Dr. Abbot.”

And he did.

mercvry-glow 2025

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which paige get's drafted and drafts you back to her hotel room

The music is loud. Bass heavy and vibrating through the floor of the New York rooftop lounge, but all you can focus on is your girlfriend.

She’s across the room, leaning lazily against the bar with a dirty shirley in one hand and her draft hat perched on top of her head. The soft white, glittery button-up she’s wearing clings to her frame in the best way — the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off her forearms. She’s laughing at something one of her friends said, but her eyes keep flicking back to you.

You can feel her stare like a hand on your skin.

You’re tipsy, glittery in a silky mini dress, still riding the high from the draft night adrenaline, but that buzz is nothing compared to what your Paige is doing to you with a single look.

She finally pushes off the bar and starts making her way toward you. And you swear, it’s like the entire party fades away. The music dims. The laughter blurs. The crowd parts, or maybe you just stop caring that it’s even there.

She comes close, smelling like pomegranate and something darker—cologne and sweat and a little bit of sin.

“Hey, baby,” she says, voice low, practically in your ear. “You been looking at me all night.”

You smirk. “You’ve been looking back.”

Her hand slides along your waist, fingers brushing the curve of your hip. “Come with me.”

You don’t ask where. You just go.

The hotel room is quiet, dimly lit, the city lights from the massive window casting a soft glow across the bed. She kicks the door shut behind you and pins you against it in the same breath.

“You’re driving me crazy,” she murmurs, mouth grazing your neck. “All night. That dress. The way you kept biting your lip…”

You gasp as her hands slide down your thighs, dragging your dress up slowly. “Thought you were busy being the top pick tonight.”

She smirks against your skin. “I’ve got something else I want to be on top of.”

Her mouth crashes into yours, hungry and messy, her hands everywhere. You’re still giggling into the kiss, flushed and warm from the alcohol, but when she lifts you up and your legs wrap around her waist, everything turns molten.

She drops you on the bed, steps back, and just looks at you.

“You’re so pretty like this,” she says, voice thick with heat. “Waiting for me.”

You can barely breathe. “Then stop making me wait.”

Her grin is wicked.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, tossing her jacket aside and unbuttoning her shirt with slow, deliberate fingers, “I plan on taking my time.”

She stalks toward you like she owns the room—like she owns you—and in this moment, you kind of want her to.

The white button-up comes off slow, deliberate, revealing lean muscle under smooth skin and a cocky glint in her eyes that says she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. She’s left in just her grey dress pants and that smug confidence, and somehow that’s even hotter.

“You good, baby?” she asks, settling on the edge of the bed, between your spread thighs.

You nod, breathless. “So fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Her hands trail up your calves, pushing the hem of your dress higher and higher until it’s bunched at your waist. “You gonna be good for me? Gonna let me take care of you?”

Your hips roll up before you can think, instinctive, desperate. “Please, Paige…”

She grins, leans down, and kisses your inner thigh, teeth grazing your skin. “That’s what I like to hear.”

She makes you wait—fingers sliding over the damp heat of your panties, teasing you through the fabric as she presses kisses along your thighs, your hips, your lower belly. You’re already soaked, already writhing, but she’s in no rush. She wants you squirming.

She hooks her fingers in your panties and pulls them down slow, dragging the lace over your thighs, past your knees. She doesn’t even toss them away—just shoves them in her pocket with a smirk.

“Mine now.”

You whimper. “You’re such a—”

She cuts you off with a hot swipe of her tongue, and your brain short-circuits.

She licks you like she’s starved for it, moaning into your heat like your taste is the only thing she’s ever wanted. And god, the way her tongue moves—slow at first, teasing, then deep and insistent as she holds your thighs open and devours you.

You arch off the bed, fingers tangled in her hair, crying out her name again and again. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, taste so fucking good.” She pulls away, lifting her head up to look at the way your head tilts back. “You gonna cum on my tongue, pretty girl?”

You’re already there. Your thighs shake, your stomach tightens, and then you’re breaking apart, moaning her name like a prayer as she keeps going—drawing it out, sucking your clit gently as you ride her mouth through your high.

When you finally slump back against the sheets, gasping, Paige wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and kisses up your body, her cocky grin returning.

But she’s not done.

Not even close.

“You got one in you,” she murmurs, brushing hair back from your sweaty face. “Now I’m gonna fuck you properly.”

Your breath catches when she unzips her pants and pulls out the strap—thick, black, and already glistening with lube.

You stare. “You came out tonight wearing that?”

She smirks. “Told you. I knew what I wanted.”

You don’t even have time to sass her back. She’s already pressing it against you, rubbing it through your folds, teasing your entrance with slow, shallow thrusts that make you gasp.

“Tell me you want it,” she says, voice low and dark.

“I want it,” you breathe. “I want you, Paige.”

That’s all it takes. She pushes in slow, watching every inch disappear into you, groaning as if she can feel it herself.

“Fuck,” she growls. “You take me so good.”

The stretch burns in the best way, and when she bottoms out, you’re already gripping the sheets, eyes wide.

She starts moving—deep, steady strokes that build quickly into something rougher. Her hands grip your hips, dragging you onto her cock, and her mouth finds your neck, biting just hard enough to leave a mark.

You’re a mess—moaning, babbling her name, completely at her mercy.

She thrusts harder, faster, one hand sliding to your throat—not choking, just resting there, holding you still as she pounds into you.

“You like this, huh?” she pants. “Like being fucked dumb after a big night?”

You nod desperately. “Yes—Paige, I—fuck—”

She hits that spot over and over, and you swear you’re about to cum again.

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”

“Yes, yes—please, don’t stop—”

And she doesn’t. She drives into you with ruthless precision until you’re cumming again, loud and wild, your whole body trembling as she rides you through it.

She fucks you right into the mattress, sweat slick between your bodies, your name falling from her lips like it’s sacred.

When she finally slows, pulling out and collapsing beside you, you’re a ruined mess—hair tangled, thighs sticky, lips swollen from kissing and biting.

She turns to you, brushing your cheek with her knuckles, eyes suddenly softer.

“You’re mine now,” she murmurs.

You smile, still breathless. “Wasn’t I always?”

You’re still catching your breath when Paige rolls onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow. The sheets are a mess around you—twisted, damp, barely clinging to your body—and your thighs are trembling from the first round.

But Paige isn’t finished with you.

She leans in, kissing the hollow of your throat, lazy and soft now, but no less intense. Her hand trails down your stomach, fingers grazing your still-sensitive core, and you gasp at the contact.

“Too much?” she murmurs, watching your reaction.

You shake your head, voice already breathy. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Her smirk returns, slow and devilish. “That’s my girl.”

She kisses lower again, taking her time now—her mouth warm and patient as she moves down your body. There’s no urgency like before, no rush to get you off. Just her, savoring you.

When she settles between your thighs again, she hooks your legs over her shoulders and just… looks at you.

“You’re fucking beautiful like this,” she says, voice low. “Laid out for me. All wrecked and begging.”

You don’t get the chance to respond. Her tongue is back on you before you can speak.

But this time, it’s different. Slower. Deeper.

She licks a long stripe through your folds, then flattens her tongue against your clit, keeping steady pressure that makes your back arch instantly. There’s a kind of reverence in the way she moves now—like worship, like she’s memorizing every sound you make, every twitch of your body.

Your hands tangle in her hair again, pulling her closer, but she’s already locked in. She groans softly into you, the vibrations making your toes curl.

“Paige—fuck, don’t stop,” you gasp.

She doesn’t. She sucks your clit gently, then flicks it with her tongue in a rhythm that makes your thighs clamp around her head. She pushes them apart again, firm hands pinning your hips down.

“Be good,” she murmurs against you, “and take it.”

The way she says it—commanding, filthy, loving—it sends a fresh wave of heat crashing through your belly.

She dives back in, tongue fucking you now, slow and deep, like she wants to taste every part of you. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. She teases you until your whole body is shaking, your legs trembling uncontrollably.

“Paige, I—oh my god—”

You can’t even finish the sentence before the second orgasm slams into you, even stronger than the first. Your vision blurs, your whole body tenses, and you cry out her name like it’s the only word you know.

She doesn’t stop until you’re whining, pushing at her shoulders, your body too sensitive to take more.

When she finally pulls back, her chin is slick, her eyes dark, and she looks smug as hell.

You’re limp against the sheets, completely spent, your chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breath.

She climbs up beside you and presses a kiss to your cheek, then your collarbone, then finally your lips—soft and slow and deep.

You can taste yourself on her tongue.

“Still with me, baby?” she whispers against your mouth.

You nod, half-laughing. “Barely.”

She grins and pulls you into her chest, wrapping an arm around you possessively. Her hand strokes your hair as your breathing syncs, calm now, spent and satisfied.

“Good,” she whispers, lips against your temple. “Because we’re not sleeping yet.”

You’re still pressed against her chest, heart slowing, skin sticky with sweat, her arm snug around your waist like she never wants to let go.

But the ache between your thighs hasn’t gone away. Not really. It’s softened, dulled, but the need’s still there—lingering, low and hot in your stomach. And when you shift your hips slightly and feel the press of Paige’s strap still between your legs, you moan softly.

Paige hears it. Feels it.

Her hand trails down your spine, slow and lazy. “You still want more, baby?”

You nod against her neck, voice barely a whisper. “Wanna ride you.”

That flips a switch.

She groans, deep and low, like the idea alone might break her. Her grip tightens on your waist as she leans back against the pillows, eyes dark and hungry.

“Then come take what you need,” she murmurs.

You nod, dragging yourself upright, straddling her lap again. You grind down against it slowly, just the friction against your swollen clit making you moan.

She groans beneath you. “Go ahead, baby. Take what you want.”

You grip her chest for balance, bracing yourself as you reach down to guide her cock through your folds. You tease yourself with the head—slow, messy little circles over your entrance—and Paige just lays there watching, jaw clenched, hands gripping your thighs like she’s dying to take control but refusing to interrupt.

Then, inch by inch, you sink down onto her.

You both moan—your head tipping back, her hands tightening on your hips as she watches it disappear inside you.

You feel it everywhere inside you. It’s thick, and the way the harness presses into her makes her hips shift with every motion. She’s not just lying there—she’s fully engaged, hips lifting to meet your grind, low praises falling from her lips like she can feel you clenching around her.

“Goddamn,” she groans. “Look at you.”

You start to move, slow at first—grinding down, using your thighs to ride her with steady rolls of your hips. You’re so wet that it’s obscene, the sound of slick on skin smacking filling the room. You don’t care. You want her to hear how ruined she’s made you.

She watches you with fire in her eyes, jaw clenched as you bounce on top of her, your breasts swaying with every motion.

“You look so good on my cock,” she growls. “Like you were made to ride it.”

You lean down and kiss her, hard and messy, your teeth grazing her bottom lip. “Feels so good, Paige—fuck—keep watching me.”

She does. One hand finds your ass, the other sliding around to rub slow, firm circles against your clit. You jolt, hips stuttering as she grins.

“Sensitive?” she murmurs.

You nod, lips parting with a breathy moan. “So fucking sensitive.”

“But you’re still taking me,” she says, voice thick. “Still riding me like a good girl.”

The friction, the stretch, the way her thumb circles your clit—it’s all too much. Your thighs start to shake, your rhythm faltering as your orgasm builds fast and hot in your core.

“Paige—baby—I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me,” she groans. “Ride it out, just like that. Let me feel you fall apart.”

You do.

You cry out her name, body trembling, thighs clamping around her as you grind down hard, the orgasm crashing over you in waves. Your vision goes white, and all you can feel is her—her hands, her voice, her strap buried deep inside you.

You collapse against her chest, shaking and gasping, your cheek pressed to her neck. She strokes your back, soothing now, her breath warm in your ear.

“Good girl,” she whispers, soft and low. “So fucking good for me.”

You smile, spent and blissed out. “Told you I wasn’t done.”

She chuckles, wrapping her arms around you tight. “Next time, I’m cuffing you to the bed. You’re dangerous on top.”

You’re a mess.

Hair clinging to your sweaty face, lips swollen from her kisses, thighs trembling from how many times she’s already made you cum. You can barely move — limp and whimpering, body slick and soaked — but she’s not done. Not even close.

Paige kneels between your legs, eyes dark, body still flushed from earlier rounds. The strap is still on her hips, glistening with your slick, the lube dried and replaced with the real thing — you. She strokes it slowly, watching your pussy clench around nothing as you twitch under her stare.

“You look wrecked,” she murmurs. “You done?”

You shake your head weakly. “No. Want more.”

That smug smirk curls on her lips again, sharp and deadly.

“Filthy little thing,” she says, gripping your thighs and pulling your hips back down the bed. “Can’t get enough of my cock, huh?”

You barely manage to nod before she’s lining herself up again — and then she slams into you in one hard thrust.

You cry out, back arching, stars sparking behind your eyes.

It’s not gentle this time. Not soft.

This is Paige unhinged — fucking you like she’s starving, like her whole body’s on fire, like she’s addicted to the way you scream her name.

She’s not letting you adjust. She’s just pounding into you, deep and merciless, hips slapping against your ass, her hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“You wanted this?” she growls, her voice ragged. “Begged for it? You fucking take it.”

You’re gasping, moaning, already close again, your legs spread wide as she pounds you into the mattress. Her strap hits just right, again and again, and your body’s so raw and overstimulated that everything feels like too much — and not enough.

One of her hands leaves your wrists and slaps your inner thigh, hard enough to sting.

“You’re dripping,” she mutters, watching where her cock disappears into you. “So fucking messy for me. I should make you clean it up with your mouth.”

You whimper. “Paige—please—”

She grins like the devil. “Please what? You wanna cum? You want my strap even deeper? Or you want me to stuff your mouth so you stop whining?”

You can’t even answer — too wrecked, too close.

She grabs your jaw, tilts your head, and spits in your mouth.

“Swallow it.”

You do. Without question.

“Good fucking girl.”

Then she’s moving faster, rougher, fucking into you with no mercy, her thumb rubbing vicious circles against your clit. Your entire body is shaking, thighs clamping down around her hips, mouth open in a silent scream as the orgasm rips through you like a goddamn earthquake.

Your pussy clenches hard around the strap, and Paige groans at the sight of it — your body spasming under her, your skin flushed and glowing and absolutely destroyed.

But she doesn’t stop.

She keeps going.

Fucking you through your high, past it, until it becomes pain and pleasure and wet, desperate gasps. She leans down, mouth brushing your ear.

“You gonna squirt for me, baby?”

You shake your head, whining, “I can’t—Paige—”

“Yes, you can. You’re gonna soak this fucking bed. Gonna cum all over me.”

She keeps going — brutal thrusts, her strap so deep you swear you feel it in your throat. Your body starts to convulse again, every muscle tightening, your breath hitching—

And then it happens.

Your vision goes white as your orgasm explodes out of you — loud, uncontrollable, your thighs shaking violently as you squirt all over her strap and down your legs.

You’re moaning like an animal, sobbing her name, your nails digging into the sheets as you ride out the most intense climax of the night.

When you finally collapse, soaked and sobbing, Paige pulls out slow — and the obscene wet pop of her strap leaving you sends a final shudder through your body.

She just stares at you, chest heaving, a smug look on her face.

“Filthy girl,” she whispers. “You just squirted all over me. That pussy’s mine.”

You nod, barely able to form words.

It’s been hers.

It was late. You could barely stand without your legs feeling like giving out any moment. She picks you up and carries you to the bathroom, turning the shower on.

The bathroom is full of steam, thick and curling around your skin as the hot water pours over both of you. The city glows through the fogged-up window — lights flickering like a heartbeat outside the hotel suite — but in here, it’s just the two of you.

You’re standing under the spray, your back to her chest, her arms wrapped lazily around your waist, lips pressed to the slope of your shoulder. She’s calm now — quiet, almost reverent — but the heat between your legs hasn’t faded.

Not with her body pressed to yours like this.

Not with the way her fingers are ghosting over your hips, your stomach, trailing lower like she’s already thinking about how to ruin you again.

She leans in, mouth at your ear. “Still not done with you,” she whispers, voice like velvet and sin.

You hum, letting your head fall back onto her shoulder. “I can’t believe I’m still standing.”

“You won’t be for long,” she says, smirking as one hand slides between your legs.

She touches you like she knows you inside and out — slow, gentle circles over your swollen clit, the kind that make your knees buckle just slightly. Her free arm wraps around your chest, holding you up as she teases you, mouth brushing your jaw, your cheek, your neck.

“You’ve been so good for me tonight,” she murmurs, fingers dipping lower to gather your slick even under the water. “So fucking perfect.”

Your body’s hypersensitive, twitching under her touch, but there’s something about how slow she is now — how intentional — that makes it almost unbearable.

“Paige,” you whisper, already trembling. “Need more.”

“I know,” she says, kissing beneath your ear. “I got you.”

She sinks to her knees behind you, the water cascading down her back as she spreads your legs gently, guiding one over the small shower bench. You brace yourself against the foggy tile, heart pounding as her mouth presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh.

Then another.

And another.

“God, you’re so pretty like this,” she says, dragging her tongue over your already dripping slit. “All open for me. All mine.”

She eats you out like she’s savoring it — slow, deep strokes of her tongue, barely any pressure, just enough to tease. Her hands grip your thighs, keeping you spread, but not tight like before. No roughness now. Just her mouth working you up all over again.

She flattens her tongue and licks long, slow stripes from your entrance to your clit. The water hits her back in a steady rhythm, but she doesn’t care. She’s locked in — eyes closed, moaning softly into you as she devours you at her own unhurried pace.

You’re whining already, hips rolling, body leaning into the tile.

“Fuck, Paige—please—”

She hums into your clit and the vibration makes your whole body jolt.

“You want my fingers, baby?” she murmurs.

“Yes—God, yes.”

She slides two fingers in deep — slow, knuckle-deep and curling just right — while her mouth latches back onto your clit, sucking gently, teasing. She fucks you with those fingers like she has all the time in the world, tongue flicking and swirling, her pace steady and devastating.

You’re gasping now, so close, thighs shaking as your hand grips the shower bar for dear life.

“Let go,” she whispers, voice low and sinful against your heat. “One more. Just for me.”

And you do.

You cum with a soft, broken moan, your body collapsing forward, forehead pressed to the cool tile as Paige holds you through it — her tongue working you through every wave, her fingers still deep inside as your orgasm pulses around them.

When she finally pulls away, she kisses the back of your thigh again, then your hip, then rises slowly to press a kiss to your lips. You taste like yourself on her tongue, warm and satisfied.

“Still standing,” she murmurs, brushing wet hair from your face.

“Barely.”

She chuckles, helping you back under the stream, arms wrapping around your waist as you rest against her, the water washing everything else away.

“Paige?” you say softly, voice sleepy and worn.

“Yeah?”

“You’re sleeping in tomorrow. No arguments.”

She grins into your hair. “Only if you’re in bed with me.”

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧 𝗜𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗕𝗔𝗗? lando norris x girlfriend! reader ( smut ) fic summary . . . lando had you cumming his fingers twice and once more but it's not what you want, you need him, doesn't matter that you can barely talk or the fact that your shaking (589 words)

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests )

CONTENT WARNING — ( +18 MDNI, smut, dom lando, overstim, sub reader, pnv, unprotected sex [wrap it before you tap it], did I say overstim? )

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Your legs are shaking. You don’t know what time it is. You don’t know your name. All you know is him.

Lando is grinning down at you, smug and glowing, two fingers still slick and shiny where they rest against your inner thigh — the same fingers that had you screaming just minutes ago, the same fingers that’d curled inside you like they were searching for treasure, and fuck, they found it.

Twice.

And then once more, just to watch you cry a little.

“You’re ruined,” he says sweetly, like it’s a compliment. Like he’s proud. And he is. So fucking proud of the way you tremble, the way your thighs stay open just for him, even when your body’s all done and your mind is soup. He leans in, kisses your cheek, all soft and sugar. “You still with me?”

You nod — kind of. It’s pathetic. It’s precious. Your voice is so thin when you speak, Lando could drink it like a milkshake.

“Need you,” you whisper. “Wanna feel you, Lan. Please, please, please—”

He chuckles, but it’s not mean.

 “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

His hand traces up your side, warm and grounding. “Didn’t I just make you come so hard you forgot how to speak?”

You whimper. A high-pitched, helpless sound.

“That doesn’t count,” you whine. “It wasn’t you. Need your cock. Need you to fuck me. Please, Lando. Please.”

Your hips roll up without permission, chasing the idea of him, even though you’re so sensitive it burns.

Lando watches with stars in his eyes. “God, you’re unreal,” he breathes. “You want it that bad, baby?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “I—I ache for you, I—fuck—I can take it, I promise—”

“You’re already trembling,” he hums, sliding his hand between your thighs again, gently cupping the mess he’s made. “Poor thing. Look how messy you are for me.”

You can’t even answer. Just whine. Just need.

He leans in again, pressing a kiss to your throat like a reward. “Okay,” he says softly. “I’ve got you. Let’s make that pretty little brain of yours even mushier, hmm?”

He lines himself up, slow and careful, hands on your hips like he’s anchoring you to the earth.

And then—

Oh.

He’s inside.

All the way.

You cry out, legs twitching. The stretch, the heat, the fullness— it’s too much. it’s everything.

You’re so sensitive it feels like being lit up from the inside.

Lando’s groan is pure filth. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he pants, jaw clenched. “Still so wet for me. Good girl. You’re taking me so, so well.”

He starts slow. Deep. Gentle. But every thrust pushes you higher, makes your body jerk, makes your eyes roll back.

You’re sobbing now, overwhelmed and fucked-out and wrecked, but your hands are on his back, pulling him closer, dragging him deeper, chasing every last drop of him like you’ll die without it.

“You feel that?” he whispers. “That’s me. All of me, baby. Giving you everything.”

You nod, tearful, voice cracked.

 “I love you,” you sob. “Love your cock, love you—”

And that’s it. That’s what shatters him. His rhythm stutters and he buries his face in your neck like he’s praying.

“I love you too,” he gasps. “So much. You’re perfect. You’re mine.”

And when you come again — when you fall apart with his name on your lips and stars behind your eyelids — he follows, moaning into your skin, whispering how proud he is, how good you are, how he’ll never stop taking care of you.

Even when you’re mush. Especially then.

[heyimkana]

guildmaster!jinwoo and secretary!reader?????? omg kana you’re feeding us THANK YOUUUU😭😭😭🫶

being his secretary means coming along with him and the ahjin guild to the international guild conferences. imagine all the high ranking hunters around the world have their attention on him—his presence practically exudes power and immeasurable amounts of mana, it’s no surprise that he immediately draws all eyes in the room. but the hunters can’t help but notice “that pretty thing” walking alongside him, their eyes inevitably straying towards you for far longer than jinwoo would like. cue possessive!guildmaster!jinwoo 🫢

OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD YES OKAY IMAGINE THIS

WC: 1,4K | Warnings: sex, swearing | Continuation from this

Let's say the international conference happened a week after they had sex for the first time.

So, they went to another country together, not getting the chance to talk much because people always surrounded him. That day when Jinwoo kissed and made love to you in his private office... As wonderful and passionate as it was, it only happened one time. He had been very busy with his schedules after that, so you had no chance to speak privately with him.

Through your eyes, with how he kept his demeanor nonchalant and reserved, you assumed he had no interest in taking the relationship to the next step. You had also been too afraid to ask him about your status since... Well, he was a national-level hunter, and you were nothing, not even a hunter. You were just a normal person—a nobody.

Surely, he wouldn't want to be in a relationship with someone like me.

You didn't know that the real reason why Jinwoo never asked you out was because he didn't wish to make you a target for having a special relationship with him. He couldn't risk it, not after what happened with Jinho. He decided it was better if your relationship with him stayed strictly business, no matter how much he wanted to hold you, take care of you, and love you the way a lover would.

You could still feel his eyes on you every now and then, and sometimes he smiled a little softer than usual when he thanked you for your assistance, as if seeing you stand so close to him but could never be entirely his melted and broke his heart at the same time. You didn't think too much of it, though. You told yourself not to.

After the conference ended, you returned to the hotel you had reserved for the night. You escorted him back to his room, helping him carry over the documents. Jinwoo had been quiet for a while, though you weren't sure why. You wondered if he was exhausted. After all, he was never fond of long meetings, and that conference took the entire day. You were worried about him, but... There was nothing you could do. You were just his secretary, never his lover.

"Take your rest, Mr. Sung," you said, maintaining your perfect formality even when it was only the two of you then. "I'm sure you're exhausted. I will be in my room next door should you need me. Good night."

You pivoted on your heels, making your way outside, but the second you stepped into the hallway, his fingers caught your wrist, yanking you back into the room. He slammed the door shut and pinned you against the door, his torso pressed flushed against your back, his fingers splayed at the front of your throat as his mouth latched hotly on your neck.

His heart was pounding, fueled by desire and frustration, while yours beat in the exhilaration of finally having his hands on you again. After enduring a day of watching other hunters leer and ogle at you, Jinwoo couldn't hold back any longer. He needed you, and he needed you then. His large hand seized your hip, pulling you even closer, his grip firm and possessive. His control slipped away, his desire for you taking over.

"M-Mr. Sung, what—"

"Don't call me that," he said, almost in a low growl. His lips found your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he spoke. "I want to hear my name on your lips. No 'Mr. Sung', no formalities."

You shivered, "J-Jinwoo..."

"Fuck." He angled your face to the side, kissing you so roughly, breathlessly, consuming enough to make your legs grow weak. He pressed you further against the wall, his bulge pressing hotly against your behind, his palm sliding underneath your blouse, tightly kneading your breast. "You don't know what you do to me, do you?"

"Jinwoo, what..." Your breathing started to tatter. "What are you doing?" You were confused. You thought he didn't want anything to do with you anymore.

His breath was hot against your ear, his voice gruff and filled with need. "What does it look like I'm doing, Sweetheart?" He placed a gentle yet passionate kiss on the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“You… I don’t know..." You chew on your lip to restrain your moans. "You seem... angry.”

"Damn right, I'm angry," he let out a low grumble, his grip on your hip tightening, nails digging into the skin. "Do you know how many men were staring at you during that conference? I could barely focus on the damn meeting."

He pushed up your skirt to your waist with one hand while the other applied pressure on the spot between your shoulder blades. You bent forward the way he commanded you to, clawing against the door as Jinwoo gripped your hip and guided your ass toward him, his zipper teasing your lingerie, his lip bitten at the sensation of his bulge grinding against your behind.

"Every time a man looked at you and smiled," he leaned forward, his teeth grazing your shoulder. "I wanted to wring his goddamn neck. You looked too fucking good, and they were all looking at you like you were some piece of meat. It took everything I had not to go over and punch someone in the face."

He meant his every word, and it sent quivers down your body. You'd never thought someone as composed as Sung Jinwoo could lose his composure like this—all because of you.

You needed him terribly, your body aching for him that you started pushing back, giving him the message for him to do as he pleased.

"Seeing them all looking at you... touching you..." He took off his belt with one hand, tossing it to the side. "God, I wanted to grab you and mark you as mine right then and there."

He pushed his pants low enough just for his hard, leaking cock to break free. "You're mine, aren't you, Angel?" He rubbed his tip against your entrance, his own breathing jagged. His hand slithered to your neck, framing your face as he took the shell of your ear between his teeth. "No one can have you but me, right?"

"Y-yes," you shut your eyes close, wanting him to be as close as possible, to be as deep as possible. "Jin, please—"

"Say that you're mine."

The dominance, the possessiveness in his tone nearly petrified you. "I'm yours—" You barely finished your line when he thrust inside, deep and hard, pushing all his length in one drive of his hips. It burned in all the right ways, your walls stretched and used, molded into his shape. You choked on your breath, your fingers clenching into fists as you tried to balance yourself.

"Again," he demanded, one hand pinning your wrist against the door while the other held you still by the hip. "Tell me who you belong to."

"Y-you—ah—" One sudden thrust made you fall forward, your body pressed flat against the door with his cock sliding in and out. He was fucking his anger and frustration into you, every pound of his hips was a testament to the control he had over you. It felt so good, so raw, so feral, and you found yourself sobbing out his name in pleasure.

"I think I've changed my mind," Jinwoo said breathlessly, one hand hooked around your thigh, lifting your leg to give him more access, to bury himself deeper inside. "I'm going to let everyone know that you're mine. I'll take the risk. I'll keep you with me at all times. I'll protect you no matter what it takes, even if it means putting my life on the line. I'll show the whole fucking world that you belong to me."

The thrill of being owned by a man who could have anything—anyone—in the universe, sent you to the edge. "Jinwoo, I'm—I'm close—"

He held you tight against him, his hips rocking erratically against yours. "Come for me, Angel." And as you let yourself go, your body weak in his arms, your mind reeling in the afterglow, Jinwoo kissed your cheek, his touch soothing compared to how he used you just a second ago.

"I'll never let you go," he whispered, embracing you close. "You're mine to protect, mine to claim, mine to possess. Don't ever forget that."

His fingers tightened around your throat, far from hurting but enough to assert his power over you. And through gritted teeth, he said—

[cuteandhughesy]

Shatter Me With Your Touch | Anthony Stolarz

summary: your older brother mitch marner has only ever asked for one thing: never, under any circumstances, hook up with one of his teammates. and you're going strong....right until anthony stolarz shows up. (the 3 times you and anthony push the limits of your secret relationship, and the 1 time it bites you in the ass).

[word count] 4.7k

warnings: NSFW! slight age gap | marner!reader | secret relationship | brothers teammate | drinking | swearing | kissing | sexual acts | smut | p in v intercourse | getting caught | mature themes and dialogue | view at your own discretion

a/n: this is purely stemmed of this blurb—and you will be seeing the same scene in this story. I just knew I had to further explore this story line and share this cute and love story! plus there’s never enough stoly!

see my other brothers teammate 3 + 1 series here

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one

your brother mitch marner has always been protective. like the kind of stereotypical protective that makes you want to rip your hair right out of your scalp, and gauge your eyes out anytime you're at the family dinner table and he starts asking your boyfriend a million questions—questions that are nothing but patronizing. honestly, protective doesn't do it justice, unreasonably overprotective is a much better fit.

you're his younger sister, two years younger than him to be exact, and because of that age gap, mitch has always felt the need to look out for you and your feelings—especially when it comes to dating.

and it's not for no reason, because you? you've always been the kind of person who would give the shirt off your back if someone else was cold, and the kind of girl who would think bare minimum behaviour was god sent. you are almost too kind and forgiving. maybe even a little naive.

from a young age, mitch saw the way people took advantage of you and your kindness, and felt that it was his responsibility to keep you safe and out of harms way. when you started highschool—and begun dating and going out—mitch's protectiveness only got worse. no boy was good enough, even when they were. your brother would drive boys away with menacing looks, and what he called 'stern talkings'—which are also known as straight up threats.

high on changing hormones and left feeling trapped, it didn't take long into your junior year of highschool for you to break. you sat both your brothers down—because yes, they were both ridiculously protective—and begged for them to chill the fuck out. you yelled and cried and practically shook their shoulders until they agreed to relax.

christopher was never really the problem, so he backed off instantly. mitch though? he took a little bit of extra convincing. after you got to your knees and pleaded, he had sighed lowly, meeting your eyes before reluctantly nodding. but before you got too excited, mitch had said—"under one circumstance."

and that circumstance? you will never, under any circumstance, date his friends, and you certainly will never date his teammates. obviously, with this new found feeling of freedom and independence that came with mitch’s compliance, told your brother that he'd never have to worry about that.

and for years, everything was going according to plan. your and mitch's relationship grew into a friendship now that he felt he no longer needed to constantly hover over you, and you kept your dating pool out of mitch's circle of friends. it wasn't difficult considering most of mitch's friends where your friends, and you didn't see them in that way. and then when mitch started getting more serious about hockey, he barley went out or had his teammates over at the house—so you never had the chance to met them, never mind get to know them.

you can remember steph, all bleach blonde hair and bubbly grin, would beg for you to join her at the games. small hands pulling and tugging at your arm like an over excited kid in a toy store. but you weren't really interested at that point in your life. you were still a few years younger than them and with your last year of high school being so busy, frankly, you didn't the have time to sit at a cold arena for three hours.

"maybe you'll find a guy," steph used to tease, winking at you discreetly in the dim light of the family living room.

you always responded the same way, "im not into hockey players."

when mitch made it to the nhl, that's when you started going to games more often. your schedule was less hectic and more open, and you always jumped at the chance to spend time away from dorm rooms and frat guys. plus, you got to drink beers that mitch was paying for, and chat with steph about school and boys without the prying ears of your brothers or your parents.

as the years passed, and you and mitch got older, his dating rule or protectiveness over you never wavered. sure, he wasn't as intense as he once was—keeping his cool like you asked him too—but mitch never truly changed. he just became better at hiding it. and now with his life in the spotlight, your brother truly just wanted to keep you safe. from the media of course, but especially from the new group of sleazy guys that are coming in and out of toronto.

much to his relief, you never planned on rebuking mitch's dating rule. you had a job, and aspirations and went out with your own friends and found guys on your own accord. hockey players were long gone in your mind.

but then, anthony stolarz waltzed into toronto with a summer tan and a perfect smile and completely turned your world inside out. anthony is older than you, 6 years older than you to be precise—he's mature, but doesn't take himself too seriously. he's outgoing and sweet and fucking huge. seriously, he could crush your head with his bicep. anthony had introduced himself to you with a playful and intriguing gleam, and it instantly had you feeling…things.

anytime after that, if you were in anthony's presence, you automatically became flustered. it doesn't help that he always chose to sit next to you, and talk lowly to you, and smile at you from across the room. anthony's had all those new faces and teammates to spend time with, and yet he only seemed interested in spending time with you.

and steph? she knew you like him. your sister-in-law is your number one supporter but also your biggest enemy, you swear. anytime mitch or someone else in a room would mention anthony's name, or she would spot you and the net-minder within five feet of one other, steph was wiggling her brows at you and grinning like the devil.

and it's fine, you thought. it's just a stupid crush on a new, older man. you'd get over it. it's not reciprocated. that flurry of feelings you grew for anthony would soon blow over and you won't have to walk on eggshells around mitch anymore—too afraid that if you breathed the wrong way, your brother would find out about your embarrassing crush.

expect it was totally reciprocated, and after too many glasses of wine and access to a private bathroom at some fancy toronto bar after an important win, you and anthony snuck off—giggling like tipsy kids in between kisses and breathless moans as anthony's length slide through your gummy, arousal coated walls.

just when you thought it would be a one time thing—a one night stand that helped get your feelings for anthony out of your system—it happened again in a supply closet during a marner foundation event. and then again in anthony's car after you two went to dinner as 'just friends'. and then again in your apartment, and then his and before you realize it, you are having sex every other night.

and kissing and laughing and ordering in your favourite take out and watching movies together.

in the blink of an eye, anthony stolarz is your secret, older boyfriend.

in the first few months, you're both really good at keeping your relationship under wraps. you set struck rules for yourselves—like standing at separate ends of rooms, no longing stares in each others direction, no dates in public, and certainly no sneaky displays of affection in places where someone could see.

but as you fall more and more in love, it's harder to hold back, resulting in more than risky situations that might as well have you begging to get caught.

—

the chatter flows around you, warm and breezy, the contagious laughter of william nylander and rumbling voice of john tavares familiar sounds where they cut through the chimes of utensils on plates.

your dinner sits in front of you, mostly untouched, but not for a lack of hunger. in fact—you're starving, maybe just not for food. because with anthony beside you, looking extra large and delicious in comparison to the dining room chair he's sitting on—a dining room chair that isn't that small...he's just that big—it’s hard to focus on anything but him.

casually, you stab some of the mini roasted potato's with your fork, keeping your eyes trained on aryne tavares and jake mccabe’s wife on the other side of the table—the latter of the two women talking about some new palates class she's started.

everyone is either listening to her, and if not her, a different conversation that’s happening along the stretch of the tavares’ dining room table. without looking away from the girls, your free hand leaves your own lap, and ever so gentley—as if not to startle him— it finds anthony's knee.

you scratch along the taut muscles underneath his jeans soothingly. teasingly. each pass of your fingers climbing higher up his leg.

and anthony knows what you're doing. he's all too familiar with it. he fights off a smirk and the urge to look over at you, clearing his throat quietly before taking a large gulp of water. you’ve got him all hot and bothered and he’s definitely getting hard in his pants.

you catch the movement out of the corner of your eye and a grin grows across your face. flattening your hand on the top of his thigh, you let your pinky finger brush over his bulge like the little shit you are.

that makes anthony choke on his gulp of water, which gathers the attention of a few of the guys and their significant others around you.

quickly, before you get caught feeling up the newest leaf goal tender under the table, you bring your hand back to your lap—playful smirk never wavering.

"you good stoly?" max domi asks curiously, eyes squinted in a mixture of concern and humour. anthony can only hum while wiping the dribble of water from his chin with the back of his hand.

casually, you rest your chin on your palm—the same palm that was just on anthony's leg. your eyes flicker with something teasing, "yeah, everything okay?"

anthony lets out a short laugh, shooting you a look—a look that others may just think is friendly, but you recognize it as a warning. a wordless demand to behave. it only sends your stomach into a twirling thrill.

"yeah, just swallowed down the wrong hole."

but even still, anthony can't resist teasing you back once all eyes are once again distracted, ring finger slipping under your skirt and passing over your lacy underwear until you're biting down on your knuckles to ensure no sighs slip out.

steph shoots you a look, which makes anthony pull away—sporting a smug grin on his face as he chews the piece of asparagus he pushes past his upturned lips.

two

it's not very often you get tipsy at leaf games. usually you're too busy hiding your face behind your hands in a stressful manner, or entertaining the gangle of children running around the suite. but today, for some reason—and that reason being $1 beer night—you're not just tipsy, you're borderline hammered.

it takes steph a whole 10 minutes to get you out of the suite and down to the tunnel—coaxing you out of there with reassuring words and an amused glint in her eye. because yeah, drunk people are annoying—especially when the other party is sober—but you're so funny and floppy right now that it makes up for the amount of alcohol you consumed.

and when steph manages to finally get you down to the tunnel, and you lean you against the wall, and you stay there...she considers it a small victory. but that all changes when anthony makes his way out of the locker room, looking divine in his dark suit and hair damp from a shower—smile wide and high off a win.

you sigh dreamily, head rolling back against the concrete wall as you watch his movements. anthony hasn't spotted you yet—which is probably a good thing for your sake, because the sight of his eyes right now would send you into cardiac arrest. but then a frown is pulling at your lips. because pontus holmberg pulls his girl into his arms and kisses her, and you just want to act normal and be able to go up to your boyfriend. kiss him silly in front of everyone.

it wasn't uncommon for you to wait in the tunnels with steph after games, especially when you've driven to the rink together. which is the case nine times out of ten. typically after a win, steph would want to see mitch before heading home, especially because mitch likes to go out for dinner after good games.

so everytime you'd be waiting in the tunnels, you'd have to physically restrain yourself from runnning towards anthony. he will always smile at you when your eyes catch—definitely a little too sexy of a smile for trying to be discrete. but that was always it. besides some eye playful eye tag, neither of you ever pushed those boundaries.

not when your brother could walk out at any moment and catch you.

but once again, you're well passed tipsy, and you just want to love up on your man like all the other wags get to do. so before you can even think logically about your actions, your feet are moving, and moving in anthony's direction, heels clicking on the floor as you make your way through the lingering crowd.

and steph doesn't try and stop you. she just covers her eyes with an exhausted hand, blowing a quiet raspberry to herself as she represses a laugh. you told her about your secret relationship with the newest leaf goaltender 4 hours after that team dinner. because like usual, your sister in law read you like a book and had in incline before you even said anything.

anthony's in a casual conversation with morgan, completely unaware of the way your striding towards him—not until you're right in front of him and the defence man.

you wrap your hand around anthony's bicep, blinking up at him with glassy eyes just as you stumble on your own feet. if it wasn't for your hold on your boyfriends arm, you'd be halfway to the floor by now.

"hi," you beam unashamedly, glossy lips tempting him in ways you'll never understand.

anthony swallows, his bright eyes squinting down at you with amusement. he shoots a tentative glance at morgan, who is just stifling laughter like he knows—which, god damn it tessa, because obviously you had to tell her too and clearly she’s told her husband. "hi," anthony parrots after a beat.

"missed you," you slur, pushing up onto the toes of your heeled boots and puckering your lips expectantly, "can I have a kiss?" you hum, body swaying.

anthony laughs shortly, rubbing the back of his neck while he subtly scanning the room—checking to see if anyone is watching. more specifically, anybody who definitely shouldn't be watching. also known as mitch marner, who is one of the many people who still don't know about your relationship.

and for now, you'd like to keep it that way. not that drunk you cares though.

morgan has slipped away from you both now, and there's only a few lingering bodies left in the tunnel. anthony spots steph, now eyeing you sneakily. which means your brother is still here. in the locker room, yeah, but still here.

"we really shouldn't." anthony mumbles, eyes finding your glossy ones again. despite his words, anthony lets his hand wrap around your waist, keeping you against his chest to steady the drunk sway you have going on. slowly, he licks along his bottom lip, words no louder than a whisper, "your brother could catch us."

"so?" you huff, pushing even further up his body. clearly, you don’t give a damn. "just a quick kiss." you say, hands flat against his chest, still searching for a smooch. you're too happy on beer and in love to think about your brothers stupid rule right now. you couldn't care less about anything besides your gigantic, sexy boyfriend—who is grinning down at you like you're the best thing that's ever happened to him.

and you are. more than the nhl. more than the stanley cup. more than breathing.

so quickly, anthony leans down, free hand enclosing on the side of your face as he tilts your head up, and connects your lips together. he's just a man after all, and with a pretty girl like you begging and blinking up at him, who's he to say no?

the kiss doesn't last nearly as long as you need it to, and you whine pathetically when anthony pulls away from your mouth. you're not caught, thankfully, and that only makes you want to kiss him over and over again.

"i'll see you later, kay?" anthony whispers softly, talking his hand off your hips once you drop back down to your heels.

you nod, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, "love you." you sing song dreamily.

he smirks, "love you too."

three

to say you and anthony became comfortable in the secrecy of your relationship was an understatement. you were really pushing your limits now, making out in the guest bathroom of auston's matthew's condo like a pair of porn stars—slow, syrupy and messy.

once you told steph and tessa about anthony, it wasn't soon after that the rest of the wags found out—all of them sworn to the upmost secrecy—and in turn, a lot of their men found out as well. which wasn't your most ideal situation, but after threatening to cut their balls off, they seemed to be able to keep their lips zipped.

that knowledge amongst the majority of the leafs roster definitely contributes to the more relaxed approach you and anthony find yourselves in, in regards to your relationship. you tell yourself that's the reason you decided to sneak off to the bathroom today—even though you would've ended up here regardless. anthony is looking way to sexy today to just ignore.

and you? you've been driving him insane all evening with your pretty skirt and top and the perfume clinging to your soft skin—perfume that smells like sex. anthony can't help but trail his lips down your taut neck, inhaling the smell like it's his own personal drug.

the sound of your breathless gasps and mewls quickly has anthony returning his mouth back to yours though. because you're truly irresistible to him. always have been. as soon as your lips are back in their familiar dance, everything else fades away. the distant chatter and rapid heart beats between you—none of that exists anymore.

anthony's large hand slides up the side of your bare thigh, lifting your skirt higher and higher up your leg, while his tongue prods the plump skin of your bottom lip. you allow him the entrance he's seeking instantly, which makes anthony smirk into the kiss.

the counter top is cool under your skin where you sit on top, making your arch away and further into anthony's hold. but he doesn't mind one bit—grabbing at your skin and pulling you even closer, your barley covered core rubbing against his and creating delicious friction.

it's erotic and dangerous and you really should've double checked that the door was locked. because the feeling of dread and anxiety that surges through your boood stream when that bathroom door is thrown open is other worldy.

anthony pulls off of your mouth just as you let out a breathless gasp, both of your heads turning towards the entry way.

"holy fuck—sorry." auston matthews familiar voice has turned high pitched, which can only be a result of embarrassment and surprise as he registers the scene in front of him. and just as quick as he opened the door, the captain is slamming it closed.

silence envelopes the bathroom once again—but you can't hear anything over the blood pumping in your ears. you're both frozen in place—you, on the bathroom counter, legs still spread and lips glistening with a mixture of your and anthony's saliva. and anthony, 5 steps away from you, shirt wrinkled, hair tousled and chest heaving.

once your brain catches up to what the fuck just happened, your quickly slipping off the counter. you stumble briefly, but that doesn't slow you down as you practically run after auston matthews.

you could try and deny it, but your actions speak for themselves. and what auston just saw? there's nothing in the world that you could say that would make it innocent. so that only leaves you with one other option: begging.

thankfully, auston didn't get far, and you catch him easily, fingers enclosing around his thick wrist to halt him. he spins around to face you, dark eyes still wide with disbelief and...maybe a little bit of amusement? it's hard to tell when you're so panicked.

"auston," you start, gaze all but frantic, "please please please, don't say anything about what you just saw to anyone. especially mitch. he doesn't know yet, and if this is how he finds out—"

"hey," auston interrupts with a short laugh. "calm down, you're stressing me out."

you blink what feels like a hundred times and you drop his arm. auston's gaze flickers over your shoulder briefly, eyes glimmering with something unknown. curious, you find the subject of his attention.

anthony is behind you, lips slightly parted as his gaze narrows in on the goal scorer. it's then you understand that look in auston's eyes—it's understanding. it's a promise to anthony's wordless plea.

"don't worry kid," auston says once you turn back towards him, "your secret is safe with me."

+one

the leafs have a rare off day today—only two days before their two week long road trip over on the west coast—which means that anthony had no other plans but to be with you. more specifically, in bed, taking turns with either licking into your pussy until you're making a mess on his tongue, or pounding into you until the headboard is smacking against the wall.

it's very rare that the two of you get to have alone time, never mind getting to have proper sex. so when this kind of opportunity arises, both of you are taking it without a second thought.

you can't complain really. not when your legs are over your boyfriends thick shoulders, his cock perfectly massaging your gummy walls as he thrusts into you. the sounds between you are lewd—slapping and squealing and desperate, needy pants and grunts.

you've gone dumb on anthony's cock as he splits you in two, your jaw slack and eyes glazed as you peer up at him. and anthony fucking loves it. his hand grips your jaw firmly, keeping your eyes trained on him. the pad of his thumb pulls down your bottom lip, slowly, as a smirk grows on his face.

"gunna miss you when i'm gone baby," he pants, movements never faltering, "i'm gunna miss your pretty pussy—fuck."

the only responses you can manage is another drawn out moan and your fingers gripping his bulging biceps even tighter.

—

mitch marner pushes the front door of your place open with his hip, too busy balancing your moms homemade casserole in his hands to open the door properly. it’s your favourite home cooked meal, ready to go in a glass dish, that bonnie marner insisted mitch drop off at yours before making his way home.

his car keys are held tightly between his lips, giving him limited opportunity to make a coherent sentence, but he calls out a muffled greeting to you regardless.

no response.

mitch's brows furrow as he puts the food dish on your kitchen island. he drops his phone and keys beside the dish before spinning on his heels, peering into the living room where you're normally hiding—tucked under some fluffy blanket with a book in your lap.

the books there, open and face down on the coffee table—blanket at the foot of the pink chair—but you're nowhere in sight. a rush of panic washes over your brother. mitch had texted you 10 minutes ago, just as he was leaving your parents, to tell you he'd be stopping by with a mountain of food, but he didn't get a response then.

and then once he got here, your front door wasn't even locked. which wouldn't of been that crazy if you knew mitch was on his way over, but your lack of response has mitch second guessing your knowledge of his arrival.

"y/n?" he calls your name again, spinning around for good measure to make sure he didn't miss you the first time.

it only then does he spot a pair of shoes next to your usual slip ons—shoes that are definitely way to big for you and definitely belong to a man. logic goes out the window in that moment because mitch hums curiously, walking down the hall towards your closed bedroom door.

mitch doesn't even hesitate before turning the handle, "y/n? who's here?—ah, what the fuck?!" your brothers words die on his tongue at the sight of you and his goaltender in bed...together...doing things that make mitch want to bleach his eyes out.

it's bad enough to walk in on a family member having sex, but when the guy pounding said family member just last night was laughing and chatting like nothing was happening, makes mitch fucking shiver. oh god, he literally congratulated anthony on his win last night. little did mitch know the real prize for anthony stolarz was getting to fuck mitch marner’s little sister.

"oh my god!" you shout, wrapping the floral bedsheet around your very naked torso. "get out!"

and mitch doesn't need to be told twice. the bedroom door slams shut—so loudly and with so much force that the pictures hanging on your wall shake. regardless of the door now being shut, mitch covers his eyes with his hand while he physically moans and cringes for extra measure.

"oh my god," his voice sounds from the hallway, all dramatic and whiny. "my eyes."

you and anthony share a look—a look that's a mixture of terror and concern. because not only does mitch now know that you’re together in this capacity, but he's also just seen his baby sister having sex. you jump out of bed, tangled in your bedding, and stomp towards the door.

you don't open it, not yet, but you smack the wood wildly. "mitchell, what are you doing here!"

"I was trying to drop off some of mom's casserole—I texted you! I can't believe what I just saw." the latter party of his scentence trails off, tone low like mitch is saying it to himself. mitch swallows dramatically, rubbing at his face. "I'm gunna puke."

you laugh in disbelief. "you're gunna puke? i'm going to die."

the springs of your mattress creak behind you as anthony gets out of bed. slipping on his boxers, he makes his way towards you—all broad and warm as anthony comes up to stand behind your bare, glistening back. he reaches for you, squeezing your bicep comfortingly.

guilt prickles at your skin, and you take your bottom lip between your teeth as a nervous habit—gnawing your plump skin until it feels sore. anthony kisses your head subconsciously, a gesture that calms you down just enough to enable you to squeak out an apology. "i'm sorry, mitchy."

emotion clogs your throat and it makes your brother sigh, hand falling from his scruff and hitting his leg with a soft thud. "don't cry, y/n."

ever so slowly, the door squeaks open—not fully though, mindful of the sheet covering you—and your head pokes out. your eyes are glassy and your lip wobbles and the protective older brother side of him wants nothing more than to fix this.

"are you mad at us?" you sniffle.

us.

through the slim space between the door and the frame, mitch has a harsh reminder that anthony stolarz is with you—his t-shirt strew across the bench at the end of your bed, his cologne clinging to the sheet around you. hell, mitch can see anthony’s fucking gigantic hand holding the back of your neck softly.

he's comforting you.

mitch sighs reluctantly. because yes, he's not thrilled with this entire situation, but clearly, anthony is a good guy—your brother has a front row seat to that—anthony is a man who clearly cares for you. "i'm more mad about you not knowing how to lock doors than anything else."

you breath hitches, a glimmer of something that feels like hope tickling your heart, "really?"

a slow nod, "yes." mitch's eyes fall over your body, or rather, your sheet, and he shivers again, turning away to give you privacy and himself some fucking peace of mind. "now just...get dressed and we can talk about it."

[bunnis-monsters]

Your puppy girl

Fem!Werewolf x Fem!Reader

a/n: Patreon and kofi got to read this nearly 2 months early! This was a commission ^^

warnings: somno, pet play, pussy eating, fingering, panty stealing

WC: 5k+

In the dead of winter, the outside world looked more and more like a blank canvas ready to be painted upon each day that passed.

You have always enjoyed this time of year. Although the cold may bring unpleasant feelings and sickness, it could bring community and so much warmth as well.

People banded together when snow began to fall, offering shelter and food to those in need.

You were no different.

It had been a normal day, with the usual drama at work and a busy ride home. All you wanted was some peace and quiet in the sanctity of your cozy apartment… unfortunately, many things would happen that changed your life forever.

If only you had people to spend such a lonely and isolating winter with.

You spent most days alone. No significant other, no hobbies that made life worth living. If you were being honest with yourself, you were just living day to day, hoping to find something that gave you the strength to keep going.

For now, though, you would work, eat, sleep, and do the same thing the next day. No friends, no close friends…

Just you.

The sun was finally setting, and you stared out at the orange and red hues as they danced across the sky. Never before had you seen such a beautiful sunset.

It wasn’t like you to linger by the steps of your apartment for very long after you returned home. Usually, you were quick to get inside so you could take off your heavy winter coat and relax by the fire.

However you stopped to stare at that beautiful sunset, just long enough for some strange events to be set into motion.

While staring out into the sky, you heard something from the woods nearby. It sounded like someone, or well, something crying out to any nearby people for help.

Your first thought was an animal had fallen into the pond out in the woods and gotten itself hurt. It wasn’t uncommon, but something made you doubt that theory.

“Could be a wounded animal… or someone in need of help.”

Either way, you weren’t going to wait around while the owner of that voice was in the freezing cold, possibly hurt and scared.

You could remember what that was like. There had been times in the past when you were left all alone, abandoned in your time of need.

It wasn’t right to stand by while others suffered.

The path into the woods was slick with ice and snow, and you had to hold onto a nearby tree when you slipped and almost fell on your ass. You really weren’t wearing the correct shoes to be trudging through the slurry of icy mud and snow but there wasn’t time for a change of clothes and foot apparel,

The cries grew louder the further you trekked. As you passed the undisturbed pond, you were relieved to know no one had fallen into it. You weren’t sure if you would have been able to help someone if they had.

By the time you reached what was making the noise, the volume of its cries had risen so high that you could hardly heat anything else.

What seemed to be a medium sized dog was laying on the ground on its side, howling and barking before letting out those familiar heart wrenching cries.

Its fur was dark brown, almost black, but with the little light that remained you could see its true color.

“Hey…”

The dog went quiet when you spoke. With its ears perked up, you could tell it was on high alert.

“Are you hurt, little one?”

You crouched down, examining its pelt. There seemed to be no obvious injuries besides its leg being a bit… off looking. “Must of sprained your ankle… with how slippery these paths are, I can understand how.”

Usually, a stray or wild dog wouldn’t let you touch it, but this one didn’t seem to mind when you hoisted it up and walked on your way home. “You’re a big and fluffy thing, aren’t you?”

It was bigger than usual, and you made sure to walk slow and steady through the icy woods. Tripping and falling onto this already scared and injured animal wouldn’t turn out well for either of you.

The first thing you did when you got home was try off their fur. Placing it in front of a heater, you rubbed the towel over its pelt, watching as it closed its eyes in contentment while warm air flowed towards its face.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

The more this dog relaxed in your presence, the more you figured it was someone’s pet. Why else would it be so calm while injured?

After it was warm and dry, you ran your fingers through its fur, thoroughly examining each part of its body to make sure there were no other wounds.

There were a few scratches and cuts, but each one was either old or already healing up. The sprained ankle was what you were most worried about.

As you began examining the bruised and swollen ankle, the fog sniffed at your shoulder and neck, giving your cheek a lick. You smiled down at it, scratching behind its ear. “I bet you have an owner, hmm? You’re a sweet pup.”

Its tail wagged at your words, that seemed to make it happy.

“Isn’t that better?” you cooed, looking down at its bandaged foot. The dog stood and took a few cautious steps. When it realized it could walk slowly without much pain, it barked and wagged its tail before sniffing you again.

“I’ll have to take you to the shelter tomorrow… your owner is probably worried sick.”

You would have done so that night, but carrying a heavy dog home and working a full day had you exhausted. Besides, what animal shelter would be open past 8 pm?

You got to work making yourself some dinner, feeding the dog some of the food from your plate. Pets weren’t really allowed in your complex and any strays were chased off by your landlord, so you didn’t keep any dog food on you.

It gobbled up anything you gave it, sitting by your side as you ate at the kitchen table. A slobbery pink tongue lapped at your hand, licking up any leftover bits of food.

“Hey, ew!” you giggled out, wiping your hand on your jeans. “Sorry, I know you must be hungry. I have some ham in the fridge…”

As it ate some leftover ham, you went to shower.

~

Walking around with only a towel, you lifted an eyebrow when you noticed the dog was gone. Hoping it hadn’t run to some corner of your apartment to take a piss and ruin your deposit, you began to look for it.

“C’mere, pup…” you called out, glancing behind your couch. “I got some more ham, c’mon. I gotta take you outside to use the bathroom before I go to bed.”

When you couldn’t find it in the living room, bathroom, or even the storage closet, you turned towards your room. The door was cracked open, when you remembered closing it that morning.

For some reason, you felt… uneasy. There was this primal fear that there were predatory eyes on you, and the hair on your beck was standing on end.

“Hello..?”

You flicked on the light to your bedroom, immediately spotting a lump in your plush comforter. Your shoulders relaxed and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding.

“Ah, this is where you went… you have to get off of my bed. I haven’t given you a bath and you could have fleas or-“

The words died in your throat as you yanked off the comforter.

Instead of the ball of fluff you had been expecting to see, your eyes were met with a woman around your age, curled up in your bed.

She stared up at you with wild, yellow eyes, a pair of dog ears on top of her head perking up.

The woman was completely nude, blinking in shock before skittering back. Her back pressed against your headboard, and you stared back with your jaw agape.

It took you both a moment to process what was going on.

Should you scream? Was this a fight or flight situation?

Surprisingly, you were way calmer than you thought you would have been in a situation like this. For god’s sake, there was a naked woman in your bed and you sure as hell hadn’t scheduled a booty call!

“Don’t… be upset.”

The woman’s voice was deep, almost soothing. Her yellow eyes flicked up to meet yours, and she slowly pulled her leg out from under the blanket.

Bandages covered her ankle… this was-

“Oh my god.”

The dog ears, they weren’t some kind of accessory. No… they were real, and so was that tail you could see wagging nervously.

“I’m not human… that’s obvious. I will explain, I swear…” the woman sighed, the dark bags under her eyes crinkling slightly. “But I’m so tired, and the winter this year is harsh. Please… could I stay the night? I’ll tell you all you want to know in the morning…”

You stood there, contemplating your choices. While you were still flabbergasted at the situation you had gotten yourself into, you were able to slowly steady your racing heart.

The situation has not truly changed all that much. There was a being that needed your help, and you had brought that dog home knowing it could bite you or spread disease.

Could you not give an at least partial human being the same courtesy you gave an animal? It would be… inhumane to kick her out into the cold while she was injured and naked, especially when it was pitch black outside.

“… go to the living room, I’ll bring you a change of clothes.”

The woman darted past you with a swiftness that wouldn’t come easy to a human being of a similar stature. She really wasn’t human, but you weren’t quite sure what “non-human” was.

As you gathered an oversized shirt and some pajama pants that would be bagger on her lean frame, you pondered what exactly your next step should be.

When morning would come, what would you do?

Your original plan had been to take the dog to the shelter. It wasn’t feasible for you to take care of an animal while you were living in a tiny apartment.

This was different, though. The shelter wouldn’t accept her, of course not, but you weren’t sure if a human shelter would accept her either.

“Thank you…” she said softly, looking up through her thick eyelashes. When you paid more attention, you noticed how pretty she was. Yellow eyes that shone in the dim light of your living room, soft looking black hair, and a nice figure…

“It’s no problem. We’ll talk in the morning, alright? Get some sleep.”

You locked your door that night. Despite being kind enough to let a stranger into your home, your big heart didn’t make you stupid.

After you were sound asleep, the woman stood, her cheeks flushed a dark pink. There was a smell that had her body trembling with need, and she had been struggling to contain her lust all night.

She snuck into the bathroom, searching around silently until she found the source of that smell that drove her crazy.

A pair of lacy panties, the crotch slightly damp. She could remember you emitting a smell of arousal earlier when you were on your phone, and she was incredibly curious.

What had gotten you this worked up?

She lifted the pair to her nose, taking an intense whiff before letting out a shuddering moan. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as the heavenly scent filled her nostrils.

It was a bit embarrassing, but she slowly poked out her tongue to lick the damp spot, immediately growing wet at your taste.

You had been so kind to her, for no reason at all. When most people and werewolves alike would have swiftly abandoned an injured pup like her, you instead let her into her home.

Not only did you care for her wounds, but you fed and even clothed her.

She was just smitten.

Her hand moved to her now clothed cunt. She felt a bit guilty getting the pajamas you gave her dirty, but she couldn’t help but touch herself through the fabric.

“Mmph…”

The sound of her tail wagging and thumping against the floor could be heard by the downstairs neighbors. She was too busy getting off to the thought of devouring your pretty pussy to notice…

~

In the morning, you called in sick to work. It just wouldn’t be possible for you to leave this… person in your house while you were gone.

“Alright, you promised you’d explain,” you said, placing a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of her. “Get to talking.”

You waited patiently as she wolfed down the breakfast you had prepared for her. She seemed even hungrier than she had been the night before, if it was possible.

“So… I’m a werewolf.”

Well, that wasn’t a huge shock. The revelation made relative sense, she could turn into a dog-like creature after all.

“I thought werewolves were like… big, hairy monsters. You turn into a medium sized dog.”

The woman huffed at that, waving her fork. “Well sorry, but over time werewolves have bred with basic humans and our transformations have become weaker each generation. Only a selective few can muster a full transformation, and they’re usually from families that do… the whole inbreeding thing.”

You rubbed your temple. Learning about werewolves at all wasn’t something you were super interested in, and now she was giving you more info than you needed.

“Alright, alright. You’re a werewolf. What about your living situation?”

The mood changed, the woman’s eyes becoming a bit dark and distant as she looked away.

“… even for my generation, my transformation is weak. I was kicked out of my pack when I came of age, and I’ve been pretty much winging it ever since.”

It was quiet for a moment. The situation she was in reminded you of many stories you heard from other people. Fresh adults being kicked out for being different, it was a tale as old as time.

“I see…”

Something clicked in your mind as you watched the way she curled up on your couch, her knees pressing against her chest.

“You don’t have anywhere to stay?”

With a nod, she took another bite of the second you heaped onto her plate. “Nope…”

You hoped you wouldn’t regret what you were about to say.

“This winter has been pretty harsh so far… alright. At least until winter is over, you can stay here.”

Maybe with another person living with you, even for just a while, you’d be less lonely during the most depressing season of the year.

She perked up, her tail beginning to wag as her eyes brightened. “You mean it? I can-“

“You’ll be paying for your own rent and food, of course.”

This made her pout a little, which you found strangely cute. “Of course… I can hunt for my own food. We can discuss rent after a shower, I’m sure I don’t smell very pleasant.”

She wasn’t wrong.

~

You curled up in bed after a long day. After taking her to buy some clothes and essentials, she handed over a wad of cash to be used for rent. It seemed she had enough money to keep herself afloat…

Renting wasn’t easy though, and you could understand why. Hiding her nature proved difficult. She was kicked out of several places for having a pet she wasn’t supposed to… but the werewolf was the very dog they accused her of having.

You turned on your side, rubbing your tired eyes. Work was a must, and you refused to miss another day.

Once you drifted off and your breathing evened out, your door creaked open.

A pair of yellow eyes peeked into your room, the soft swishing sound of her tail wagging mixing with the soft hum of your heater.

Like a true predator of the night, she snuck closer. It was easy to climb into your bed without your noticing. You were a heavy sleeper, and she was stealthy.

Her eyes settled on your breasts, your pretty nipples poking your thin shirt. The air was a bit chilly, she had noticed that when she walked in.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up…’

You were her savior, and all she wanted to do was repay you!

And maybe she was a little horny too…

Her fingers toyed with your nipples through your shirt as her knee rubbed against your clothed cunt.

She gave your breasts a squeeze, her wolf ears twitching when you whined in your sleep. ‘Ahh, so cute…’

After she gave you a nuzzle with her nose, she peppered kisses along your neck and chest, licking your exposed skin.

Taking off your shirt without waking you wasn’t easy, but she was fast and good at reading your body language.

Her lips wrapped around one of your nipples, and she began lightly humping your leg as she suckled gently. Your panties were getting wet, and the way she was toying with your clit through the damp fabric wasn’t helping things.

That pretty pussy of yours was oozing with arousal, and she abandoned your breasts immediately. Her eyes locked onto your panties, and she pulled them back just enough to get a good look at you.

From your puffy lips to your cute, throbbing clit, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Already, drool fell down her chin and she couldn’t help but give you a little lick.

You tasted like Heaven, and she was addicted.

Soon her tongue was buried in your pussy, her hands keeping your thighs apart. You squirmed and whined in your sleep, and she had to pull away before you came.

Even with her skill, she was surprised you hadn’t woken up yet. Now she knew how much she could get away with before you were stirred from sleep…

After she dressed you again, the werewolf girl left your room, yearning for more.

How could she please you next?

~

For the next week or so, you became well acquainted with your new puppy.

Most of the time, she acted more like a dog than a human. When you got home from work, she’d jump up from wherever she’d been sitting and run to the door, sniffing and nuzzling against you.

You figured it was just a thing werewolves did, and didn’t question how quickly she had bonded with you.

More often than not you’d spot her making some sort of nest out of your blanket and clothes, all curled up and happy. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, per say, but you wished she wouldn’t get your blankets and clothes all filthy with dirt and some kind of sticky substance.

Was she eating something gooey while bundled up..? It smelled… musky…

You scratched her head, letting out a sigh as she carried around your hoodie. “It’s the middle of winter now. You don’t have any warm clothes, do you?”

She thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No, not really. It’s been hard finding work because I have nothing to wear.”

You rubbed your temple. “I have my day off tomorrow… I was going to pig out on snacks and sleep in, but I guess we’ll go shopping instead.”

She didn’t seem to sense your annoyance, and only gave your hand a happy lick before climbing into your lap.

That was normal, right? Her licking your face, curling up in your lap, and nibbling on your neck and ears was just… common werewolf behavior, wasn’t it?

In the morning, she bundled up in one of your coats and followed after you as the two of you walked along the icy sidewalks. Snow fell lazily, covering the hood of your jacket.

“I’ve never been shopping before.”

You glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “Where did you get your clothes from, then?”

Her eyes hardened, and she opened the first shop door with a huff. “When I was in my pack, we stayed in our wolf forms. No need for clothes… and when I was kicked out, I stole and looked through dumpsters.”

Your heart clenched in your chest. It hurt knowing such a friendly girl had been thrown out for not meeting the pack’s standards.

“Well, shopping is pretty fun. C’mon.”

The two of you started off with some casual winter clothes. Long sleeved shirts, pants, and lots of layers. She favored earthy colors like green and brown, but you noticed a few pink and yellow items in her bag.

“Your shoes are worn out, let’s find you a better pair of boots.”

You helped her try on multiple pairs before she settled on some brown boots with fluffy pompoms. “Ahh, these are very warm and sturdy…”

“The pompoms are cute, too. You look good in them.”

Her cheeks flushed pink at your compliment, and her tail thumped around under her skirt. You had to be careful, someone would notice her tail moving.

Before leaving the house, you covered her ears and tail. If someone found out what she was, you’d both be in danger.

“… come on, let’s go to the next store.”

On your way to find her some underwear and bras, she turned towards a pet store. Her eyes were on a picture of a dog on the front window.

“This is a pet store..?” you whispered as she browsed the selection. Despite your words, the werewolf continued to look through the dog treats.

“Guess I’ll leave you to it.”

You walked around the store, only glancing at the shelves for a moment before moving on.

There were Christmas decorations covering the shelves, making you remember that it was only a few days before the holiday.

‘Guess I can get her a little something…’

You peaked into the aisle, watching as she stared at a frilly pink collar, with a bell and ribbon at the front. She picked it up, jingling the bell and letting out an interested “ooo”.

After getting home, you wrapped up the collar and leash with your cheeks warm with embarrassment.

Imagining her with that collar on… made you feel strange.

On Christmas morning, she yawned as you placed a plate of waffles in front of her. She didn’t seem to know about the holiday, so you petted her head before bringing her to the tree.

Over the past month, the two of you had become close and you had come to care for her. She made everything a lot less lonely, and you wanted to repay her.

“This is for you…”

She blinked as you set the present in her lap. Her tail began to wag, and she unwrapped it quickly.

When she pulled out the pink collar, her eyes widened. “You… got this for me?”

Her entire face was red, and her tail thumped against the floor so hard it looked like it hurt.

“I just wanted to thank you. It’s been nice having someone around for a change…”

You weren’t good at this. It had been several years since you last have someone a gift, and never before had you gifted a collar and leash.

She stared down at the collar for a moment before she pickled the clasp atound her neck, her yellow eyes looking up at you.

“I love it… but I didn’t get you anything…”

For a moment she seemed guilty, her wolf ears flattening against her head. This didn’t last for long.

Her eyes sparkled when she had an idea. Suddenly, her leash was in your hand, and she sat at your feet like an obedient puppy as she pawed at your pajama pants.

“W-what are you doing?” you stuttered out, yelping when she pulled down your pants and buried her face into your clothed cunt.

“This is your present…”

She licked you through your panties, letting out a happy yip when she tasted your arousal. It was her favorite!

“B-but..!”

You groaned, your hand grabbing a fistful of her hair. It felt too good, her tongue was long and a bit rough. You could feel it, even through your thick cotton panties.

“You always like it when I lick here…” she said with a sigh, looking up at you dreamily. “Nearly wakes you up sometimes…”

It took you a few seconds to process the implication behind her words. “You do this when I’m sleeping?!”

She nodded, nuzzling her nose against your panties. “Of course! I have to make my mate happy and relaxed!”

Her… mate?

It was clear that werewolves had a different idea of what was and wasn’t allowed. Still, you huffed and pulled her closer, pulling your panties to the side.

“If this is a gift, then do it right, pup.”

You tugged on her leash, and she complied immediately.

Her tongue lapped at your folds, as if testing the waters. When she wasn’t fast enough, you have her leash another tug. “C’mon, don’t act shy now. You’ve been eating my pussy for a month while I sleep, now get in there.”

She whined a bit, her cheeks red when she latched onto your clit. It throbbed in her mouth, and she suckled gently while her pants clutched your soft thighs.

She moved her mouth to your hole, lapping at it before pushing her tongue in. Your pussy was dripping, and she licked up every single drop.

“Use your fingers too, pup…”

Tentatively, she pushed a finger into you, moving it in and out. When you let out a satisfied moan, her tail began to pick up speed. “Like this?”

“Mhm… such a good girl…”

You cupped her cheek, watching her eat you out. Her cute, pink tongue moved out your clit as she inserted another finger, stretching you out a bit.

“Mmm… lay down for me, okay?”

Like the obedient puppy she was, she immediately laid on her back. Her fluffy tail was tucked between her legs, a sign of submission.

“Lemme see…”

You moved her tail out of the way, smirking at how wet she had gotten. “All this from tasting my pussy? Such a naughty girl…”

Your thumb brushed against her clit, and her back arched up. She was so desperate and sensitive, her tongue poking out as she panted heavily.

“Patience…”

You hooked her leash onto the couch, offering her your pussy as you moved to eat out hers. 69ing had being something you had only seen in porn, and you were excited to try.

Instantly she was drawn to your pushy, devouring it like a mindless beast. You moved your hips, riding her face a bit before you leaned down to get your first taste of her.

She almost tasted sweet, and you were quick to bury your tongue into her cunt. The little noises she made while you explored her with your tongue and fingers were adorable, and you held down her hips every time she tried to buck them into your mouth.

“Easy, pup. Keep doing that and I’ll stop.”

It was so hard to control herself, so she took out her frustration on your cunt. She sucked on your fat pussy lips, ignoring your engorged clit. It seemed like she was being a bit of a brat.

You’d have to fix that.

With a yank of her collar, you cooed and guided her mouth back to your clit. “Right there, puppy. Such a silly girl, don’t even know where to make me feel good do you? You wouldn’t do that on purpose, you’re supposed to be my sweet puppy.”

She blushed, and obediently went back to suckling on your clit. One hand stayed at your cunt, pumping her fingers in and out, while the other one held onto your plump ass.

“That’s my girl…”

To reward her good behavior, you added another finger, stretching out her hole. “See what good puppies get? They get their cunt stretched out.”

“I-I’m a good puppy! Promise!” she babbled around your clit, suckling harder. “I wanna make you feel good…”

You smiled, giving her clit another lick before latching on. You could feel her body trembling beneath you, and orgasm incoming. She was so close, and since she was being a good pup you decided to let her cum.

As she came, you started to ride her face clit brushing against her nose. She was in a daze, completely absorbed in your pussy and scent.

The only thing she could think about was how happy she was when you came in her mouth.

Once the two of you were thoroughly satisfied, you held her limp body in your lap. You squeezed her tits with one hand, the other rubbing circles into her overstimulated clit.

“Who’s my good puppy?”

She whimpered, keeping her legs open for you.

“Me…”

After this, the two of you decided it was best if she simply continued to live with you. After all, you were lonely and she had nowhere else to go. It was a win-win!

Every morning you woke up to her licking your cunt through your panties, ready to start the day by pleasing her mate. She was basically attached to your cunt, always wanting to be between your legs.

When you left, she missed you so much that she’d chew on your panties when you were gone, rubbing the clothing item between her legs and cumming all over them.

Of course, you didn’t mind at all. You had grown fond of her, and the two of you became a thing.

As she held your hand while walking to a restaurant for dinner, her pink collar jingled and you couldn’t help but tug a bit on her leash to hear that sweet sound again.

Your sweet pup was as happy as could be, and you were as well.

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[asterafroditis]

heeeeeyyy! <3

if it's ok with you i wanted to request a scenario where the reader magically gets turned into a baby or a kid (it's temporary) and we get to see how each dorm would take care of them or babysit in their own way

i recently read a fic (Spring of Canathus (AKA: They’re Babies) by cheapshrimpysheep) where the housewardens were the ones turned into babies and the reader had to take care of them so now i’m curious to see the roles reversed and how you write it!

𐔌 . ⋮ tiny trouble .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆ Platonic TWST Dorms x gn! reader

𓏵 2225 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, they/them pronouns used, fluff

idk if you wanted this to be the everyone in the dorms taking care of the reader or just the housewardens so I just did the dorms, hope you don't mind (-ω-；) feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Due to a magical mishap during a potions class, you—an ordinary Night Raven College student—get accidentally hit by an experimental brew that reverts you to a toddler for a week. Crowley, being the usual "problem-solving" headmaster that he is, decides to put you under the other dorms' care for the time being.

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The moment Heartslabyul find a tiny version of yourself—no taller than a stack of textbooks—at their doorstep, Riddle is on high alert. He is not used to this sort of chaos, but he's the type who takes responsibility very seriously. As housewarden of Heartslabyul, he refuses to let the situation spiral into madness. You are scooped up and brought into the dorm with all the care of a noble cradling royalty.

“You are still a student of Night Raven College,” he says sternly, but with a touch of red in his cheeks, “and until the potion wears off, you’ll be treated with the utmost propriety.”

Riddle enforces structure even in babysitting: strict bedtime (8 p.m. sharp), healthy snacks (apple slices and tea, no tarts), and scheduled learning time. He reads to you with perfect diction, often from spell theory books he assumes you’ll enjoy. You fall asleep halfway through more often than not.

Trey is the one who bakes soft, kid-friendly pastries and distracts you with silly flour shapes. He’s the gentle uncle-type, letting you sit on the counter while he bakes. Cater takes the most pictures, snapping selfies with you in sparkly filters. You don't know what a 'Magicam story' is in this state, but he assures you that you're going viral. Ace tries to teach you card tricks and gets pouty when you don’t get them right; Deuce is surprisingly gentle, kneeling down and listening to your babbles like they’re sacred law.

Riddle might scold them all for not following proper babysitting etiquette, but there’s no mistaking the way his gaze softens when he sees you giggling in the lounge with your makeshift 'older brothers.' He insists on walking you to and from classes himself, even if it's just down the hallway, muttering something about how the potion should’ve never spilled onto you. When the effect wears off and you’re back to normal, Riddle clears his throat, adjusts his collar, and says:

“Ahem. See that you don't get into such trouble again. But... if it were to happen once more—I suppose Heartslabyul would be prepared.”

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The moment you’re put into Savannaclaw's care, Leona sighs like the universe itself has conspired to ruin his nap schedule. Still, he doesn’t pawn you off. In fact, he picks you up with surprising ease, balancing you on one hip like he’s done it before.

“Don’t expect me to run around after you,” he grumbles, settling back on his bed with you nestled beside him. “If you’ve got energy, go climb Ruggie or something.”

He’s far from what you'd call the nurturing type, but Leona’s brand of babysitting is more subtle. He keeps you close, even if it’s under the guise of using you as a ‘weighted blanket.’ He lets you nap with his tail draped over you and flicks it just to make you giggle. There’s a protective tilt to his ears whenever someone gets too loud nearby.

Ruggie is the one who takes over most of the hands-on work. He’s a natural babysitter—playful, clever, and good at keeping you entertained. He sneakily sneaks snacks your way and even lets you wear his oversized hoodie. Jack, while flustered, tries to keep things orderly, gently offering you his hand when crossing rooms and awkwardly patting your head.

Leona doesn’t miss any of it. He watches from the sidelines, pretending he’s annoyed by your antics, but every so often, you catch him smirking when you try to roar like a lion cub. He teaches you how to lounge properly (“Pillows, sunshine, and silence; it’s an art.”) and, surprisingly, hums a lullaby when you can't sleep.

When the potion wears off, he barely reacts, just flicks your forehead and mutters, “About time.” But later that day, Ruggie approaches you and is eager to tell you all about how soft their housewarden got for the small price of a snack.

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The moment you were turned into a child and put into Octavinelle's care, Azul was both horrified and intrigued. Horrified because this sort of mishap could potentially cause trouble towards the dorm, and intrigued because, well, he knows all about the marketing genius of getting cute kids to advertise your brand.

Despite his usual composed demeanor, Azul would be extremely careful with you. He wouldn't leave you alone in the lounge, and he'd adjust his tone to be more soothing, almost like how he talks to nervous clients. At one point, you ask if he's your dad now (to the amusement of the twins), and Azul nearly chokes on his tea. "N-No! Absolutely not! I'm merely acting in the best interest of your safety!"

Jade, ever the picture of eerie calm, takes on the role of silent guardian. He's the one making sure you eat, giving you nutritious meals (even if they taste suspiciously like mushrooms), and walking you around the halls with the smooth cadence of a butler. When you start tugging on his sleeve and babbling his name out loud, he only smiles and corrects your posture.

Floyd, on the other hand, thinks this is the best thing that has ever happened. He calls you "Shrimpy Jr." (since you're much smaller than before) and swings you around like a plush toy. He’ll let you sit on his shoulders, give you snacks Azul told him not to, and constantly whines when you get sleepy: “Nooo, Shrimpy Jr.’s nap time again? Boring~! Lemme keep ‘em!”

Between Azul’s careful supervision, Jade’s quiet attentiveness, and Floyd’s chaotic affection, you’re constantly watched—and probably a little spoiled.

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"A baby?!" Kalim shouts, holding you up like you're the rarest treasure in all of the Scalding Sands, having picked you up from Scarabia's doorstep. "Jamil, look! They're so tiny! Can we keep them?!"

Jamil, ever the voice of reason (and sarcasm), groans. "Kalim, they’re not a pet. They're a student who unfortunately fell victim to a cauldron spilling in potions class. We have to take care of them until they turn back."

But for the time being, you're taken under Scarabia's warm, chaotic wing. Kalim is constantly making sure you’re entertained—building pillow forts, teaching you how to ride the magic carpet (at a very slow speed, much to Jamil’s relief), and throwing spontaneous parties. He even tries to share his jewelry with you, which ends with you trying to eat a ruby ring. Jamil intervenes just in time.

Jamil, while grumbling the whole time, is incredibly attentive. He brushes your hair, makes sure you’re not being overwhelmed, and slips in educational games between Kalim’s circus acts. His stern exterior doesn’t last long when you tug at his sleeve and ask him to read to you. He rolls his eyes, sighs heavily, and pulls out a book—though a small smile betrays him halfway through the first story.

The rest of Scarabia treats you like a tiny sibling. Some of the dorm members even start playing around with you or gently chasing you around the courtyard for laughs. The atmosphere is vibrant, warm, and full of cushiony comfort.

Scarabia doesn’t just babysit you—they adore you.

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Pomefiore, known for its emphasis on beauty, grace, and discipline, was not exactly designed for childcare. Yet, as soon as Vil caught wind of your condition, he took it upon himself to ensure you were cared for to Pomefiore standards—which, of course, meant you would be the most well-dressed and well-behaved child in all of NRC.

“You may be a child for now, but that’s no excuse to run wild,” Vil said sternly as he adjusted the tiny, custom-made outfit he had designed for you—embroidered with subtle violets and perfectly tailored to your smaller frame. “A lapse in age is no excuse for a lapse in dignity.”

He was surprisingly good with you. Not overly doting, but attentive. Every meal was nutritious and artfully plated. Every nap was scheduled between soothing herbal tea and classical music in the background. Vil kept you engaged with picture books that had tasteful color palettes, and he always insisted on wiping your face after every snack with a soft handkerchief.

Sometimes, he’d sigh when you clung to him, resting your small head against his shoulder. But he never pushed you away. He’d simply hold you with a gentle firmness, murmuring, “You’re lucky you’re cute. Though I suppose that’s to be expected in Pomefiore.”

Epel, on the other hand, was… not as thrilled. He wasn’t bad with kids—he just wasn’t sure how to handle you. His country upbringing kicked in once he got past the shock, and he’d sometimes sneak you extra sweets or entertain you with silly faces and gestures Vil would scold him for.

“They're just a kid,” Epel muttered once as Vil reprimanded him for letting you run barefoot around the halls. “Shouldn’t they be allowed to have a little fun?” But even as he grumbled, Epel made sure you were never too far from his sight.

Rook treated the whole ordeal like some rare opportunity granted by fate. “Ah, our dear trickster has become even more precious in this petite form,” he’d say dramatically, crouching beside you to speak in soft tones. He was the most patient of the trio—amused by your curiosity, thrilled by your giggles, and more than happy to carry you around when you grew tired.

He’d hum old ballads to you, completely serious, as if serenading a noble in disguise.

There was a calm rhythm to your days in Pomefiore. The dorm members made sure you were safe, clean, and gently cared for. And even when Vil insisted on posture drills and hand-washing rituals, he still tucked you in at night with the quiet pride of someone who didn’t know how to express affection except through precision.

─────────────────────────

The moment Crowley settled your toddler self in Ignihyde, Idia, of course, panicked. Not because he didn’t care, but because this was way outside his comfort zone. "A kid? Here? In my dorm? What if they touch my figurines?! What if they drool on the keyboard?!"

Eventually, after some encouragement from Ortho, he awkwardly ventures out of his room to see you—standing in the middle of the Ignihyde hallway in an oversized hoodie, blinking up at him.

You wave. He freezes.

"...They're kinda cute."

Despite his anxiety, Idia takes good care of you in his own way. He sets up a comfy corner in his room filled with plushies, distracts you with a kid-friendly video game with Ortho, and even gives you a tablet to run drawing apps and cartoons. He talks to you like any game character would to a baby NPC, interacting with you as if you have preset responses and reactions.

Ortho, of course, becomes your babysitter #1. He reads you stories, checks your vitals, and even plays hide-and-seek at slow speeds so you can win. The rest of Ignihyde? Mostly confused. They're not used to visitors—especially tiny ones—but they adapt quickly, always offering you something to distract yourself with whenever you approach them, so they could go back to doing whatever they wanted to.

─────────────────────────

No one in Diasomnia was particularly shocked when you got turned into a baby; strange magical occurrences were practically the norm around this school. What did surprise everyone was how quickly the entire dorm fell into sync taking care of you.

Malleus was delighted. “Child of man, you’re even smaller than usual,” he’d say, beaming. He would speak to you in an oddly formal but gentle tone, lifting you effortlessly into his arms and carrying you through misty halls. His stories about Briar Valley fairy tales might be a bit long-winded for a child, but his soothing voice made you drowsy all the same.

Lilia took over your care like it was second nature. He hummed lullabies from ancient times, cooked suspicious meals that Malleus forbade you from eating, and jokingly encouraged you to ‘practice your dagger form’ using butter knives (which was quickly vetoed by Sebek).

Sebek, torn between duty and panic, kept trying to salute you like you were a visiting dignitary. “You, tiny human, must not—! I mean—you should not toddle into Malleus-sama's room with muddy shoes! Respect the Young Master’s halls!” He kept insisting on reading you Briar Valley etiquette books. You fell asleep halfway through page one.

Silver, dependable as ever, carried you around when you got tired. You fell asleep on his shoulder more than once, his calm aura a comforting presence. He read you animal tales with a soft smile, occasionally nodding off beside you.

Other Diasomnia members kept a respectful distance but left you with trinkets you could play around with.

Under their collective care, you felt like royalty—cradled in a dorm where ancient power met tender affection.

[janecafe]

future spouse's pac: reasons why they choose to love you every time

uno - dos - tres

paid readings available here

masterlist

©janecafe 2025

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

₊˚ʚ 𝐔𝐍𝐎 🪅 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

i just wanna be more authentic here. your person is a class that doesn't believe in love, they think it's just human fabricated and imagination well perhaps this may be because they have not yet experienced the feeling of "love". their beliefs and practices affecting their perspectives of what love really looks like. i think they're insecure about themselves and may have a gloomy heart about the topic of affection. so the time they infatuated with you, they will experience many first times. the reason why this person love you so much is that you were the first person to show care for them, it's like a natural characteristics of you.

i think you will work with them, in a project. it will take months for this person to grow feelings and as the time you're gonna know about their feelings, it's also gonna take more time for you to mirror these emotions with them. this seems like a slow burn yet a very assured love. when i say it was their first time to be in love, i speak about--a real love, the feeling is different and because they love you because of you.

the second thing is that you're not afraid to show yourself well despite the hesitation and nervousness you feel inside most of the time. you have this mindset where; "who's gonna do this? i have no one to rely on but myself needs me more". because of this positive aspect it's energizing you to do the task completely. i heard you might be insecure and have a public speaking anxiety but this bright side of your profile always gets you to wake up in reality. although your voice comes out in a full you can feel and hear your heart banging loudly inside when interacting with strangers. i feel that you have a high frequency, you may frequently noticed people at the public, staring at you without any reason. sometimes you felt awkward and embarrassed.

another thing to add to the list is that, despite that you are someone who is quiet and gentle. you have a great humor, i think people who are close to you like your jokes but most of the time these gags are overlay from you telling the truth. its like you are saying what's real behind those. well, this person will love your humour too. you are making them laugh even with their bad days, it makes their cheeks hurt. most of time, people don't understand the two of you because you two are the ones who master of each other's understanding. they love how you try your best understand them in every way possible without judgement this is how they fall deeper to you to the point they are willing to protect you to those people who would try to harm you physically or emotionally.

₊˚ʚ 𝐃𝐎𝐒 🪅 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

ohh, la la la. they be willing to be stripped and get cold for you. love makes them crazy, i think they have a circle where most of their friends are in love in such a way they tell themselves that, "love makes you an idiot and crazy bet i'll never be like that" not until you come and knock the hell out of them. their perception on love turned around like 360°, is indeed make them insane. they feel you are so rare that's why they have a strong feelings for you. even in afterlife, they be willing to chase and make love with you haha. this reading becoming out of the topic, well the thing that makes them choose to love you is that, you give them an unquestionable loyalty.

you show them the best version of themselves which they didn't know before because all this time they think they already reach that--- that they reach the top of themselves. your presence makes a huge difference to them. it's not a big deal, it's neither your fault for them to change but it was their decision. they embrace and love it. another thing is that you are a home and a light, it's like a feeling of waking up that sunlight hitting your face. they love it when you give the best comfort especially when they really need one.

i think they will pursue you in such a very long way and with the time you are gonna them love too. they'll be like; "finally, my happiness choose me". from their expectations and imagination they already love the life that you two were building.

you are their muse of art. the root of their inspiration. the star in the darkest days. they can metaphor you with everything, make you poems with so fondness of words. they're lucky that they are able to love and see you in this lifetime. and the day they will meet you, is the day they will share their wind-gentle love story.

₊˚ʚ 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒 🪅 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

the first thing i heard is that--- you make them marveled in love. they love how you send cute messages whenever they're at work. they think you are the most unexpected thing that happens in their life, they didn't expect you to come and boom their world. you shake things up i swear. they feel that they're bad person and nobody will ever love, they feel that they don't deserve you and their love. but you make them realize that love can make change. love makes you better. they love how patience you are with them and they are so forever grateful for that.

i think you give your best to match their energy and they really do appreciate your efforts. this slaps them that you are the one that they are willing to spend with for the rest of their lives. they want to love you much better than you do to them.

they also love your kisses and hugs. it makes their knees weak. and trust me, they'll try their best to match and give you the best communication. your encouragement and care was the ones they choose to love you every day.

another thing, they appreciate and have a soft spot for you when they take care of them when they are sick. when you make them food even though they don't usually ask for it. although most of the time you make something stupid they realize that you are the person they want for the rest of their life. i considered that their love for you was better and stronger than others.

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reaction to you being sore the morning after they went hard

Request: Can you pleaseeeee do like Ot13 s/o being sore all of their body after sex? Or like their body being sore the morning after. Like what are their reaction to their s/o being sore after being fucked harddd lmaoooo

A/N: Minghao.

Seungcheol: You're walking funny and he just smirks, “Can’t handle your man?” he teases while already scooping you up bridal style. Kisses your temple, massages your thighs later, but doesn’t promise to go easier next time. In fact, he’s kinda proud.

Jeonghan: He's a devilish little shit, “aww, baby~ did I break you?” Fake sympathy and coo-ing while dragging you onto his lap. Whispers “You were begging for more last night” in your ear with a sly grin. He'll then run a bath for you and act like a saint. Manipulative menace.

Joshua: As we know, he can be an angel turned demon. At first, he’s all, “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, right?” But when you admit you’re sore, his ears go red, but he smiles a bit cockily. “Guess I got carried away, huh?” Helps you stretch… but starts teasing and touching you again. Trouble in disguise.

Jun: This man is blunt and cocky. “You’re sore?” Grins. “I warned you.” Slaps your butt playfully as you wince, but then offers a massage and actually follows through with warm oil and expert hands. Still whispers, “Want me to make you sore again tonight?” You might actually throw soap at him and die.

Hoshi: Oh, he's a tease too, “babe… are you limping?” starts laugh-laughing, but when you glare, he panics, “Wait wait wait—are you okay?!” Gives you one of his precious tiger plushies from his sacred collection as an apology. But he's high-key proud. Very proud.

Wonwoo: He watches you struggle to sit and just lifts an eyebrow over his pc. “So you’re feeling it.” Says it so casually like it’s a weather update. He’ll tug you into his lap and rub your back gently, murmuring, “You’ll get used to it.” NO YOU WON'T!!!

Woozi: “...You’re sore? Huh. That’s… that’s not my fault. You told me not to stop.” Cue him looking away, ears turning pink. Makes you coffee while avoiding eye contact. He’s embarrassed but lowkey flattered, but planning to do it again tonight. There's no stopping him.

Dokyeom: “OH NO DID I BREAK YOU?!” He’s so apologetic even though he was the one destroying you six hours ago 😭 Will carry you around, feed you snacks, kiss your forehead 50 times. Cries a little inside, but if you say you liked it—he lights up. And this will repeat all over again...

Mingyu: Golden retriever smug. “Can’t move?” He’s grinning so wide while helping you get out of bed. Literally acts like you just won a championship. “That’s my girl.” He’ll cook you breakfast and wink every five seconds. Zero shame. Very shameless. Very, very shameless.

Minghao: I think he's very chill but lethal about it; notices the way you’re stretching weird and just goes, “Hmm.” Nothing else. Then comes over and whispers, “But, you were so loud last night.” Kisses your neck while handing you tea and I don't really know what the fuck that means but he's very into how ruined you look. Might go again just because.

Seungkwan: “You’re SORE?? I—did I go too hard?!” Full-on pacing in his pajamas, hand over heart, but when you admit you liked it, he blushes like hell. “Well, of course you did.” Helps you change and wraps you in a blanket. King of extra aftercare. He's the softest among all these 12 shits.

Vernon: Idk if it's surprising but he's lowkey a menace. “Damn. Wasn’t even trying that hard.” Says it all deadpan while watching you limp to the bathroom. Doesn’t tease too much but will absolutely throw in a You look hot, though while sipping water like nothing happened. Might poke your thigh just to see you flinch.

Dino: It's probably an overachiever moment. “You're sore?” Confused. “I didn’t think I went that hard… unless—” Pauses. Slowly starts smirking. “Well, guess someone couldn’t keep up.” He tries to act cool but fails when you start whining and hitting him. Still massages you. “Next time, stretch first.”

[physalian]

So I actually live about 15 mins from Universal Orlando and I have an annual pass. I understand from a business standpoint why HP shit is in now all 3 parks (not including VB), but as fun as the rides are, it is so, so annoying seeing this franchise out-sell and thus out-shine Universal’s other franchises.

I mean that an Minions, but Minions is just irritating. Minion merch does not sell at any level compared to HP merch, and some of it is genuinely cool looking, ngl. I’ve never been an HP fan but I had connections to some of the employees and thus their discount and casually wanted a Slytherin robe. They’re like $90 and not all that high quality, I could make one from a trip to Joann’s custom fitted for my size.

But the other reason I don’t like all the HP stuff is that those lands are just so blatantly gift-shop first, and then rides. In the Studios, they ripped out my favorite ride as a kid (Earthquake) and replaced it with 90% shopping and Escape From Gringotts. And it’s always packed. Because people are always buying. So I can’t really blame the park with fans of this ridiculous franchise always rabid for whatever new piece of green/blue/yellow/red merch they can get their hands on, doesn’t matter what it is so long as there’s a house logo slapped onto it.

In IoA, there’s 3 HP rides, one very much known to get you very, very sick, one for kids, and the big one, Hagrid’s Magical Creatures, which is probably the best ride between the two original parks (besides Mummy, Mummy is King). It’s long, it’s dynamic, the ride vehicles are super cool, and you feel like you’ve got your time waiting in line’s worth.

**I’ve heard but cannot verify that the only reason HP land didn’t end up at Disney was because Rowling demanded a functional Hogwarts Express and Disney refused. Universal basically said “lady we’ll build you whatever you want just sign on the dotted line” so there is zero brand moral superiority here, Disney is just incredibly cheap and deathly afraid of committing to any designs that are too unique to be resellable and re-brandable if they fail.

But there’s also Hogsmeade as the hub of those three rides, and there ain’t shit to do in Hogsmeade except spend money, and there are always people spending money.

I can’t afford a ticket to Epic Universe and never cared about the Ministry side of things even when I watched the movies, but they would not have built a third HP land in their brand new park if people weren’t so trigger-happy buying HP merch.

I know it’s vacation and it’s no different than a trip to Disney World, but if you have to buy your stuff because you’re not crafty enough to make it, save the theme park upcharge and buy it elsewhere. Or just make it yourself.

The park has already been built, they won’t tear out the HP stuff immediately, but not buying souvenirs there would help. Universal is in it for the money, so if you help kill their cash cow, they’ll dump it for a more profitable franchise eventually.

I’d say not riding HP rides would also help because ride data determines which rides get the budgets for maintenance and upgrades… but you’re there spending theme park prices, and it all goes in one pot anyway from your park ticket.

Obligatory disclaimer that I’m not trying to shame the park goers for enjoying these rides and areas, I enjoy them, they’re doing what they were designed to do. Just think twice before buying that wand or that robe.

Oh, and by the way, that Supreme Court ruling is where that Harry Potter money goes.

[joemama-2]

𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 & 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚

・❥・ pairing: veteran! levi x fem reader

╰┈➤ synopsis: known as ‘marley’s darling’, your father, a high-ranking marleyan diplomat, introduced you as his pride and joy since you were out the womb. dazzling smiles, coy and subtly flirtatious remarks, an innocent but seductive allure that keeps you in the eyes of the public. with concerns for your safety, your father hires levi ackerman as your personal bodyguard, a war hero to some, a warm criminal to others. the same man who fought against your people.

・❥・ wc: 9k

・❥・ tags/warnings: age gap, levi is in his late thirties, reader is 26, angst, fluff, smut, alcohol, drugs, war veteran! levi, reader takes inspo from marilyn monroe, mentions of ptsd, depression, death, post! war, prejudice, guns, knives, violence, reader is marleyan, slow burn, sorta opposites attract?, dark themes, cussing, gross men, no titans! modern au, may have some canon divergent elements (e.g. levi has both legs still lol)

・❥・ series masterlist < next chapter

The sound of gravel cracks underneath Levi’s shoes, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets. It’s a sunny day in Eldia, he’s almost begun to miss this place. It’s much more different than Marley, not that he’s complaining. He’s only been here for three days, yesterday was his last. For some reason, he’s dreading the plane back. A sigh escapes his lips, shaking his head at the melancholic intrusions. He stops in his tracks when he hears a tiny hurdle of giggles and whispers. Looking over his shoulder is a small group of children around the age of five or six, looking up at him with wide, starry eyes. He can see the way their gaze flickers across his features, going from the long scar across his face to the ghostly, white eyeball of his. Some hold their smiles back, while others gasp in child-like delight. 

He turns to face them fully, crouching down to the children’s height. 

“H-Hi…” a timid girl greets. “Are you—”

“You’re Mr. Levi!” a much more brave young boy blurts out, his toothy grin widening. “You look cooler than the books!”

Levi’s lips twitch into the smallest of smiles at the boy’s enthusiasm, his usual stoic expression faltering for a moment. He straightens up, towering over them once again, though his gaze softens as he studies the children.

"Mr. Levi, right?" the timid girl asks again, her voice barely a whisper.

Levi’s heart skips a beat, a strange, unfamiliar warmth flooding him as he nods. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The children seem to surge forward as if they’ve all had the same unspoken idea, their eyes practically glowing with excitement. The boy in front pulls out a little notebook and a small pen from his pocket. “Can you sign it? Can you sign it for us?!” His voice is filled with such an innocent eagerness that for a moment, Levi just stares at the child, a little taken aback.

“You want my autograph?” he asks, his voice low, almost like he’s not sure what to make of this situation.

The children nod eagerly, the timid girl now clutching a scrap of paper between her tiny hands. Levi takes the paper from her, glancing over it for a brief moment before scribbling his name, his signature jagged and rough, just like everything else about him. “Here,” he hands it back to her, the girl’s eyes lighting up like she’s just been handed the most precious thing in the world.

“Thank you, Mr. Levi!” she squeaks, bouncing on her heels. “You're our hero!”

Levi straightens up again, his hand returning to his coat pocket as he glances over the group. They stare at him for a while, their eyes filled with admiration, something he hasn't seen in a long time. But it’s not the kind of admiration he’s used to—it's pure, innocent, almost reverent. He can feel the weight of their gaze, but for some reason, it doesn’t bother him. “Well, I’m not really a hero,” Levi mutters, running a hand through his hair. “But thanks.” He turns his gaze away from them, feeling that odd discomfort creeping in. “You kids should get back to playing, yeah?”

The children nod excitedly, and as the last few gremlins get their signature, they scurry away. 

He shakes his head in a slight fondness, turning back around to continue his trek back to the private plane waiting for him. Seems being a veteran has pretty good perks, if he does say so himself. The hangar isn’t too far away, luckily. He’s already had his morning cup of tea from the shop he used to always frequent before moving, same owners, same tacky furniture—nothing could get better than that. 

He can see a few men in the distance, seemingly getting his plane ready. 

Levi continues to walk toward the hangar, his mind begins to wander. The children’s bright smiles and excited whispers echo in his head, their innocent admiration stirring something within him. He hadn’t been called a hero in years. Most people only saw the scarred, battle-worn soldier who had fought for survival. The idea of being a symbol of hope to anyone was something he'd long abandoned. But there they were—those little faces full of wonder, looking at him like he was more than just a man who’d lived through hell. His lips press into a thin line as he shakes his head. Maybe it was just the way they were raised, seeing heroes in simple things, not yet tainted by the harshness of reality.

As he gets closer to the plane, one of the men spots him and waves. “Mr. Ackerman!” the man calls out. “Everything’s ready for your departure. We’ve got a clear flight ahead.”

Levi nods, not in the mood for small talk but acknowledging the man’s efforts. He’s almost there—almost back to the place he’s tried to forget sometimes. Marley. He tenses at the thought. There’s nothing left for him here in Eldia—not really. The place is a relic of the past, and he's nothing more than a passing memory of a world that no longer exists. Besides, he has two other little rascals waiting for him back in Marley.

He stops just short of the plane, eyes narrowing as the men finish their preparations. The sound of metal clanging and the hum of engines fill the air, but his thoughts are elsewhere. It feels like a strange kind of irony, returning to Marley, where the tension between Eldia and Marley still simmers just beneath the surface, a conflict that’s far from over. But it’s not his fight anymore. Of course, things probably will never be the same, considering just how many lives were taken in the war. A war spanning over nine years that only ended five years ago.

As the men begin to board the plane, Levi lingers, staring out at the horizon. He can almost see the faint outline of the place he left behind. His throat tightens. He’d been a different man then, a soldier with a cause. Now, he was just trying to survive, trying to forget. Humanity’s strongest.

He pushes the thoughts aside, stepping onto the plane as the door closes behind him. The world outside becomes a blur as the engines roar to life. His seat is cold and uncomfortable, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care about comfort. He’d long ago learned how to endure, how to keep moving forward. He settles back in the comfy chair the plane has to offer, opening the glass of whiskey that’s already been placed out on the table for him.

Giving himself a pour, he brings the rim to his lips and sips. A small hum of satisfaction sounds from him. 

“Drinkin’ already?”

Levi stiffens, lips contorting into a hard-set frown. Kenny, uncaring of his niece’s animosity towards him, sits leisurely across from him. He takes his hat off and leans back with a relaxed sigh, lifting his legs onto the table between them and crossing his arms over his chest. “The hell are you doing here?” 

Kenny scoffs. “Spending time with you, obviously.”

“I’d rather eat shit than be in your presence,” Levi gruffs back, eyes narrowing at his uncle. “As far as I’m concerned, this is a solo trip.”

“Was,” Kenny corrects. “Besides, got some business on the other side. Figured I’d hop a ride with you.”

Levi’s fingers tighten around his glass, the amber liquid swirling inside as his gaze locks onto Kenny, who seems entirely unfazed by the hostility radiating off Levi. The man across from him is annoyingly at ease, as always. A smirk dances across his uncle’s lips, a little too self-assured for Levi’s liking.

“Business?” Levi repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. “What kind of business? Last I checked, you didn’t exactly have a legitimate operation.”

Kenny’s eyes twinkle as if he’s relishing in the tension between them. He leans forward, and the casualness of the movement only serves to irritate Levi more. “You’re not the only one who can make deals, kid,” he drawls, the condescending tone sharp enough to cut through the stale air between them. “We’ve got some... mutual interests. Thought I’d tag along, see if you might actually get your hands dirty for once.”

Levi scowls but doesn’t respond immediately. He takes another sip of his drink, trying to swallow down the wave of frustration building in his chest. The last thing he wants is to be involved in any scheme that Kenny’s tangled up in. But, as always, Kenny knows exactly how to push his buttons, and Levi knew better than to think he’d be able to escape this.

“Not interested,” Levi mutters, leaning back in his seat, eyes flicking toward the window, though his mind is far from the view outside. “I’m not here for a job, nothing else. Keep your shady dealings to yourself.”

Kenny chuckles, the sound a low rumble that seems to settle uneasily in Levi’s stomach. “Right, forgot you’re Mr. High ‘n Mighty now. Forgive me, Your Highness.”

“You’re a fool. An old fool.” He scoots the whiskey bottle closer when he sees Kenny reaching for it.

“Oh, give me a break,” Kenny rolls his eyes, reaching forward and taking the bottle from his niece’s grip. He uncaps it and nonchalantly sips straight from the bottle. Levi doesn’t bother holding back the disgusted noise that leaves his throat, but says nothing and focuses his attention on the window as the plane begins to take off.

For a second, there’s silence. 

Until Kenny opens his big mouth again. 

“So…really not interested, huh?”

“No.”

“How come? Ain’t that compensated money the government lends ‘ya not that much? How the hell you even survivin’?” 

Levi’s gaze sharpens at Kenny’s words, his grip tightening on the armrest. He didn’t need to explain himself, especially not to someone like Kenny. The audacity of the man still gets under his skin, even after all these years. But Levi knows better than to take the bait. “I'm surviving fine,” Levi mutters, his voice cold and clipped. He turns his head slightly, eyeing his uncle with a glare that would freeze most men in place, but Kenny only grins wider, clearly enjoying the discomfort Levi tries so hard to hide. “I have my shop, I don’t want blood money.”

“Yeah? Well, I wouldn’t be so sure of that. I mean, the way I see it, you ain’t exactly living large," Kenny says, tapping the neck of the bottle against his leg like a rhythm he’s got memorized. "Could use a little extra padding, if you catch my drift."

Levi huffs under his breath, a dry laugh escaping him. "I'm fine," he repeats, louder this time, not bothering to explain any further. The question, though, lingers in the back of his mind: how much longer can he keep doing this? How much longer can he stay out of the kind of deals Kenny’s offering?

Kenny’s eyes narrow, sizing him up, and for a moment, Levi feels the weight of his uncle’s scrutiny. The man knows Levi better than he lets on—knows his breaking points, knows what makes him tick. And that only makes Levi more defensive. The older man lets up a bit, sighing to himself and grumbling something Levi can’t quite make out. He removes his legs from the table, facing Levi head-on. “Listen, it’s not…that bloody, alright?”

“Sure,” Levi simply says, checking his watch. Two more hours to go. Dammit. 

“It ain’t,” Kenny reaffirms, scooting toward the edge of his seat. He subtly looks around, as if afraid the small crew of the plane might be listening. “Just a tiny gig. Could help you out.”

“How many more times do I have to tell you no, old man?”

“As if you’re not gettin’ there your damn self, you little brat,” Kenny spits out. He huffs, taking out a crumpled-up sheet of newspaper from his back pocket and flattening it out onto the table.��

Levi peers down, face indifferent. A few moments of silence pass with Levi expecting some sort of explanation. When none comes, he unfortunately takes the bait. “What?”

“See here,” Kenny taps a long finger onto the paper. “A…client of mine, you could say. Mr. Makoto Suzuki. Topshot back over there, heard of ‘im?”

Levi’s eyes flicker down to the paper, his stomach sinking at the mention of the name. He doesn’t want to show any sign of recognition, but he can feel the subtle tension rising in his chest. Makoto Suzuki. The name isn’t foreign to him, but it’s a name that brings too many memories—too many connections to things he’s tried to forget. Levi’s lips tighten into a thin line, but he says nothing, his gaze flickering back to the newspaper. “Yeah, I’ve heard of him,” Levi mutters. He’s been around long enough to know that the big players in the game—men like Makoto—always find their way into the darker corners of the world. “Anyone with a brain has.”

“Correct,” Kenny grins, his gold canine on display. “Well, Mr. Suzuki here has a very special package he holds oh so dear to his heart.” Kenny’s finger moves slightly over to the right, and Levi’s eyes follow. A young girl, maybe in her twenties. Smiling at the camera, displaying her pearly whites. Levi can make out the group that must’ve been hurdled around you and your father while the picture was taken. Makoto’s arm is around your waist in what appears to be a protective way. “His fine piece of a daughter.”

“Makoto’s daughter,” Levi says, the words coming out gruffly, like he’s testing the air. Of course, he knows who you and your father are. “Why are you showing me this?”

Kenny leans back, eyes gleaming with something Levi can’t decipher. He takes a moment, savoring the tension in the air before answering, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “Because her father’s paying a pretty penny to keep her pretty. Been buggin’ me about it for a while now, but I ain’t no babysitter.”

“Neither am I,” Levi scoffs, setting his glass down and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not taking anything, especially from people like them.”

Kenny’s eyes flicker with an almost predatory gleam as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a near hiss. “You know how things work, Levi. Money talks. And Mr. Suzuki's got plenty of it. He's desperate. His daughter’s a political asset, no different than a pawn on a chessboard. But she’s got a problem—she’s too... distracting, if you catch my drift. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll see the opportunity here.”

Levi shakes his head, his jaw tightening as he stares at the picture, your smiling face glaring back at him. The thought of being involved in any situation with Makoto Suzuki’s daughter—especially in the way Kenny’s implying—turns his stomach. He’s fought his entire life to distance himself from this kind of world, from men like Makoto, who wield their power like a weapon and treat their own flesh and blood like assets. He snorts, his voice dripping with disdain. “I’m not a damn babysitter, Kenny. And I sure as hell don’t get mixed up in that kind of business. I’m a civilian now, it’s staying that way.”

Kenny’s grin widens, as if he’s been waiting for this exact response. He leans back in his seat, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of the table. “That’s the problem, Levi,” he mutters, eyes narrowing. “You think you can just walk away from all of this. You think you’re done. But the world doesn’t work that way, not for people like you. You don’t just get to put your hands up and say, ‘I’m done,’ because someone like Suzuki? He doesn’t give a damn about your past. He sees what you can do, and he’ll make sure you know it.”

Levi’s eyes darken, his lips pressing into a thin line. He’s heard it before, the way people try to pull him back into the chaos. He’s been fighting it for years, but it’s always lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for the moment to strike. “I don’t give a damn what Suzuki thinks,” Levi mutters, his voice cold as steel. “You know what kind of man I am. I’m not some hired weapon anymore. I’m happy where I’m at now.”

Kenny laughs, a low, rasping sound that seems to crawl under Levi’s skin. “And yet, here we are, aren’t we? You’re still the same guy, Levi. You’re just pretending not to be. When the world’s out to get you, you can’t just sit on your hands and pray it’ll go away. You’ll need allies, whether you want ‘em or not.”

Levi clenches his fists, his nails biting into his palms. He wants to reach across the table and throttle Kenny, but he knows that wouldn’t change a damn thing. The man’s words ring too true. The world doesn’t let people like him go so easily. It’s a cold, unforgiving reality. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze still locked on the picture of you and your father. The idea of getting involved with Makoto Suzuki’s business makes his skin crawl. He’s been there and done that—used as a tool in someone else’s game. He refuses to go back.

“I’m not your guy for this,” Levi says, his voice unwavering, but the unease in his chest grows. “Find someone else to play your damn games.”

Kenny groans and rolls his eyes. “Stubborn lil’ thing, huh? It’s extra cash, Levi.”

“Does it look like I care?” Levi cooly replies. “I’m not doing it. He can get a clean Marleyan to do it.”

“What? Ya think that’s it? He won’t let you watch his daughter ‘cause you ain’t Marleyan?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? What smart man would employ someone who fought against his country to be up close and personal with his daughter? We’re still a devil to some, remember?”

Kenny leans forward again, his eyes gleaming with something Levi can’t quite place. The older man seems almost amused by Levi’s firm resistance, as if he’s testing a limit he already knows well. He taps the table once more, the sound cutting through the tension like a ticking clock. “You’re a real piece of work, Levi,” Kenny mutters with a smirk. “But you’re forgetting something. Mr. Suzuki’s desperate. And desperation… well, it makes people do things they wouldn’t usually consider. And in this case, what he’s offerin’ isn’t just money—it’s leverage.”

Levi freezes at the word "leverage." The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as his gaze snaps up to meet his uncle’s, suspicion and anxiety coiling tightly in his chest. “Leverage?” Levi repeats, voice low, barely above a whisper. He knows too well what that means—Kenny’s not talking about a job offer anymore. This is something bigger, darker.

Kenny’s grin widens, but it’s not a pleasant smile. It’s the grin of someone who knows exactly how to pull the strings. He leans in, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You ain’t gotta choose the game, Levi. You’re already in it. Suzuki’s got dirt. Big dirt. And if you don’t play nice, that dirt’s gonna find its way to your doorstep, sooner or later.”

Levi’s heart races as he absorbs the weight of Kenny’s words. He can feel the familiar weight of the past creeping back in, like a shadow he can’t shake. He’s fought so hard to stay out of this world—this world of manipulation, of dangerous men who make deals and break lives without a second thought. But it’s all starting to feel inescapable. “You’re saying if I don’t help him, he’ll use whatever he’s got on me against me?” Levi’s voice is steady, but there’s a tightness in his chest that betrays his growing unease. He feels like he’s already caught in the web—he’s just waiting for the final tug.

Kenny nods slowly, that sinister glint in his eye never leaving. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. He’s already been planting the chip in my damn ear about you. And you know better than anyone—someone like Suzuki? He don’t care what you’ve done or where you’ve been. You’re useful to him, Levi. You’ve always been useful. And now, you’re gonna be useful to his daughter.”

Levi’s fingers twitch involuntarily, a dark, suffocating feeling building in the pit of his stomach. He wants to scream, to smash the table between them, but he stays silent. His mind races, searching for any escape, any way out of this mess. “You can’t make me do this,” Levi says, his words low but firm. “I’m not going back. I’m not going to be anyone’s pawn.”

Kenny leans back in his seat, clicking his tongue. “You’re already a pawn, Levi. You just haven’t realized it yet. You’re surrounded by players who know how to move the pieces. You just happen to be the one they’re comin’ for.”

Levi feels his throat tighten, the cold reality of Kenny’s words hitting harder than he wants to admit. He’s trapped. No matter how far he tries to run, no matter how much he wants to be out of it, the world he’s left behind has a way of finding him. And now, it’s threatening to drag him back in. He scrubs a hand down his face.

“Think about it,” Kenny continues, his voice almost soothing, as if he’s offering advice. “You ain’t have to do much. Just keep an eye on Suzuki’s little girl. Protect her. Get a few hands dirty, but nothing that’ll land ‘ya in trouble. Think about the money. Think about what you can do with that money. Think about the doors it could open.”

Levi looks down at the picture again, at your smile, at the image of a life he knows he doesn’t belong in. But he knows his uncle is right about one thing—the world doesn’t let people like him go that easily. And maybe, just maybe, this isn’t as simple as walking away. The weight of the decision presses down on him like a lead weight. He wants to punch something, to refuse, to get off this plane, never look back and stay his sorry ass in Eldia. But the words get stuck in his throat.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Kenny asks, voice heavy with expectation.

Levi doesn’t respond right away. He stares out the window, the soft hum of the plane filling his ears, as the choice looms over him like a storm waiting to break.

The second the plane has landed and the door opens, he’s striding down the ramp. Mood soured and the whiskey does nothing but make him more adept to just how much of a damn headache his forsaken uncle. Two figures in the distance momentarily ease his grumpiness. They familiarly approach him. 

“Levi! How was it?” Gabi asks first, striding forward to give him a tight hug around his waist. 

“Careful,” he murmurs, though his hand pats lightly at her back. “Nothing interesting. What about you two? Held up well?”

“Sure did,” Falco responds, smiling. “Shop’s doing fine, no hiccups.”

Levi nods and hums in approval. Gabi removes her arms from him, just about to ask another question when Kenny’s scratchy voice breaks the atmosphere. “Oh, look at that. Forgot about these two monsters.” He approaches with a crooked smile, head tilting and leaning against Levi. “Huh, you both are smaller than I re—”

“Shut up,” Levi cuts him off, shrugging him off. “And don’t talk to them.”

Kenny lets out a bark of laughter, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, no need to get your panties in a twist,” he says, stepping back with an exaggerated sigh. “Just makin’ conversation.”

Levi ignores him, glancing back at Gabi and Falco, who exchange wary looks before Gabi’s nose wrinkles in annoyance. “Who’s this old man?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“Just an annoying bastard,” Levi mutters.

Kenny smirks. “You wound me, shorty.”

Levi clicks his tongue, already regretting letting Kenny tag along. “You’re not staying long, are you?”

Kenny grins, all teeth and trouble. “Nah, just for a drink or two. Maybe I’ll even stop by the shop, see what kinda scam you’re runnin’.”

Levi’s eye twitches, but Falco steps in before the argument escalates. “We should head back. You look tired, Levi.”

He is tired—tired of this, of the headache that is Kenny, of the weight pressing on his shoulders. He casts one last glance at the man before exhaling sharply. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Kenny just chuckles, watching as the trio walks ahead, hands in his pockets, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. He follows at a distance, whistling a tune that grates on Levi’s ears. But he doesn’t say anything. 

“Did you bring us anything back, Levi?” Gabi asks, looking up at him. 

Levi exhales through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “Tch. What do I look like, Santa?”

Gabi pouts, nudging his side. “Come on, not even a little souvenir?”

Falco chuckles. “I told you he wouldn’t.”

Levi rolls his eyes, but after a brief pause, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small, neatly wrapped package. He tosses it to Gabi, who catches it with a surprised blink.

Her face lights up. “Wait—you actually got me something?”

“Just open it,” Levi grumbles, ignoring the way Kenny is still whistling behind them.

Gabi rips the paper off, revealing a sleek pocketknife with an intricate engraving on the handle. She whistles, running her fingers over it. “This is so cool!”

Falco’s eyes widen. “A-A knife, Levi? Really?”

“She’s gotta learn how to defend herself,” Levi mutters. “Can’t have her relying on you all the time.”

Gabi grins, flipping the blade open and inspecting it. “I love it. Thanks, Levi.”

Levi shrugs, glancing at Falco. “And for you.” He reaches into his coat again and hands over a small box.

Falco hesitates before taking it, opening it carefully. Inside is a simple but finely crafted wristwatch. He blinks, then looks up at Levi, eyes wide. “This is… really nice.”

“Better than being late all the damn time,” Levi says, side-eyeing him.

Falco rubs the back of his neck, chuckling. “I guess I deserve that.”

Kenny lets out an exaggerated sigh behind them. “Damn, no gift for your dear ol’ uncle? That hurts, Levi.”

Levi doesn’t even turn around. “Your gift is me not punching you in the face.”

Kenny cackles, and Gabi snorts as she tucks her knife into her pocket. Falco just shakes his head, slipping the watch onto his wrist. Despite his exhaustion, Levi feels the tension in his shoulders ease just a little. The walk to the tea shop only takes about ten minutes. Falco takes the keys from his pocket and unlocks the door, allowing the group to step in. Kenny looks around, nodding slowly with a small whistle. “Cozy in here.”

Levi glances around, already feeling a sense of peace settle in the small, warmly lit space. The gentle scent of freshly brewed tea fills the air, mixing with the earthy tones of wood and herbs. The walls are lined with shelves of tea jars, some familiar, others he hasn’t seen before. A few potted plants sit near the windows, softening the atmosphere.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Falco says, setting his bag down behind the counter and turning to face the group. “We’ve been getting a lot more regulars lately. Gabi’s been keeping things running smoothly.”

Gabi grins proudly, twirling a strand of her hair. “What can I say? I’ve got skills.” She gestures to the chairs by the window. “Feel free to make yourselves comfortable. I’ll brew some fresh tea for you.”

“Not a tea kinda man,” Kenny waves her off. 

“I meant Levi,” she raises a brow, looking Kenny up and down before going back around the counter. Falco follows her. His eye twitches, huffing to himself and turning to see Levi sitting in one of the open chairs with a small grunt. “Damn kid’s a smart-ass.”

“Good thing she is.”

Kenny sits beside Levi, tapping his foot against the floor. “Alright, about the—”

“Not here,” Levi is quick to shut him down, sending the older man a certain look. “Hold on.” Gabi comes back with Levi’s desired tea, along with Falco setting down a small report of how things have been since he’s been gone. Levi nods and thanks them quietly, sipping the tea. “You two, head outside for a second.”

Gabi and Falco simultaneously tilt their heads in confusion. But Falco speaks up first. “What? But we haven’t even had time to—”

“Outside.”

Gabi opens her mouth to protest, but Falco quickly cuts in with a muttered, “We’ll be outside,” before she can say anything more. The two exchange a glance, clearly confused, but they gather their things without further questioning. Gabi gives Levi an uncertain look before following Falco out the door.

Levi waits until the door shuts behind them before turning his attention back to Kenny. The air between them tightens instantly, the tension thickening as Levi sets his tea down on the table with a soft clink. He hesitates for a few seconds, unsure if he should entertain his idiotic uncle. But he has a feeling that no matter what, he’ll be a thorn in his side. “How much?”

Kenny grins. “Confidential, of course. Until you accept the job.”

Levi’s gaze hardens. “I’m not a fucking bodyguard, Kenny. I’m not some hired muscle, and I’m definitely not interested in babysitting some spoiled brat—no offense to her, but that’s not my scene.”

Kenny’s eyes gleam with amusement, the kind that makes Levi this much closer to punching him in the face. “That’s exactly why they need you. You’re not the kind of guy who takes orders, and that’s what she needs. Someone who can think for himself, who won’t just bow to her family’s whims. You know how it is in that world, Levi. People like her, they’re walking targets.”

Levi’s eyes flicker briefly to the door, as though expecting the others to walk back in, but the room is still empty. He rubs his temple, trying to keep his frustration in check. “And what makes you think I’d give a damn about protecting some rich girl? I’m not in the business of charity, especially not for people like her.”

Kenny leans forward, his voice lowering, almost coaxing. “You’re in the business of keeping your head above water, right? Getting by. This job? It’s a chance for you to cash in. You’re good at what you do, and I think you’ll find this… lucrative. Plus, you know it’s not asking for much. Just a little loyalty to the Suzuki family.”

Levi’s fingers twitch, the temptation gnawing at him. He’s always been a pragmatist, and this… this could solve a lot of problems, not just for him but for the people he cares about. But Kenny knows that too. “You’re asking for too much.” Levi finally meets his uncle’s gaze, his voice sharp, but controlled. “And you know I don’t work on other people’s terms.”

Kenny’s smile falters for a split second, but then he leans back again, his expression returning to that smug, confident air. “You’re still thinking like the old Levi. You’ve got a chance here to step up and make a real name for yourself besides ‘the strongest.’ You don’t have to play by their rules, you just need to keep her alive and out of trouble. It’s not that hard.”

However, Levi is still finding it hard to just give in so easily. He’s never been a bodyguard, but is being a soldier that much different? Just protect, right? However, he remembers your father; how couldn’t he? The little meeting that was held after the bomb Eldia dropped on Marley that led to a cease fire not too long after. He remembers the way he regarded him and his peers with concealed mirth in his eyes, clenched hands that made it known how much he despised losing and coming to terms with ‘the devils’. He hadn’t trusted him then, and he doesn’t trust him now. So why the hell is this same man trying to employ him?

He’s never met you, of course. Levi isn’t much to delve into media or the higher-ups. Just simple bits of you here and there is what Levi is accustomed to. All he knows about you is what he’s seen in passing—brief news clips, vague mentions, a face in the crowd of the powerful, the kind of people he’d rather ignore. He doesn’t pay attention to the higher-ups or the media, and certainly not to the rich and pampered. That’s always been a world Levi keeps his distance from.

Kenny, sensing his niece’s hesitance, softens up just a tiny bit. “Listen, why don’t you come with me tonight? Supposed to be meetin’ up with the man himself at some club; maybe you can get a feel of him there?”

Levi’s expression hardens, and he mutters under his breath, “I’ve never trusted him.”

Kenny, watching him carefully, seems to understand the unspoken question. “I get it. You’ve got a history with that man, and I can’t blame you for that. But this isn’t about him, kid. It’s about you—your future. You could save up for yourself and find a better place than some shitty, one bed apartment. If you stick to what you know, you’ll always be stuck in the past.”

Levi looks up, meeting Kenny’s eyes. There’s no warmth in his stare, only cold calculation. “What’s the catch, Kenny? You want me to babysit a rich girl to what? To get closer to him?”

Kenny holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Nothing like that, Levi. I told you, this is about keeping her alive. That’s all. The rest will follow. But you’ve gotta see it for yourself. You think you can read people? Come with me tonight. We’re meeting with your old friend at a club, and you can get a feel for the man.”

Levi’s gaze flickers toward the window, the streets outside bustling with life, and the idea of stepping into that world, even for a moment, gnaws at him. He’s been out of that circle for a long time—he doesn’t want to dive back into it. He enjoys his civilian life. But Kenny’s offer is tempting. Too tempting. He could get a sense of what was really going on and see if it was worth his time or if it was just another trap. Levi stands up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He doesn’t say anything at first, his back to Kenny as he pulls his coat tighter around his frame. The weight of the decision is pressing down on him, but he knows that if he turns Kenny down now, the man won’t stop. He’s relentless.

“Fine,” Levi says, his voice steady. “I’ll go. But don’t expect me to walk away from this thinking it’s anything more than a job. And I’m not playing nice.”

Kenny’s grin returns, more satisfied now as he stands. “That’s all I’m asking, Levi. Just keep your head straight. We’re in for a long game here, and you’ve got a front-row seat.”

Levi doesn’t respond. He understands he’s walking into unknown territory, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready for it. But one thing is for sure—he’s going to find out what kind of man your father really is. And if he’s going to protect you, he’ll need to know exactly what—or who he’s up against.

A high-end gentlemen’s club was not what he was expecting. Tucked behind an unsuspecting bar, the neon blue cursive letters that spell out “The Silk Rose”. They flicker softly in the darkness of the not-so-early night, casting an almost dreamy-like glow onto the concrete below. The street outside is quiet, unassuming—nothing to hint at the kind of opulence that lies within. Levi eyes the sign, then glances at Kenny with mild irritation.

“This your idea of a professional meeting?” he mutters.

Kenny just smirks, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. “You’d be surprised how much business gets done between overpriced scotch and soft lighting. Besides,” he adds with a wink, “Suzuki likes a certain… ambiance.”

Levi scoffs, and the scowl on his face deepens. Still, he follows Kenny inside, the brute bouncer at the door giving them a once-over before stepping aside wordlessly.

Inside, the contrast is immediate. Velvet-draped walls, soft jazz humming low over the speakers, and golden chandeliers that twinkle like stars overhead. It smells like expensive perfume and power. The kind of place meant to impress men who’ve forgotten what it’s like to hear the word no.

Women in silk dresses that barely pass for clothing drift across the room like ghosts, each movement precise, curated. But the staff aren’t the only ones dressed to kill. Men in tailored suits lounge in leather booths, cigars in hand, speaking in hushed tones. This is a playground for the elite, the dangerous, and the untouchable. Hushed conversations, soft laughs, teasing touches shared between those around aren’t what makes Levi’s nose crinkle with distaste. It’s the look in the men’s eyes that does. The way they eye every woman as if they are a toy to be played with—as if they’re the prey. No doubt the women here have caught on to the predatory nature the men wordlessly exude, yet they’re still here. In a sense, it almost begins to remind him of his mother.

Though he’d like to think she had at least a little more self-respect. 

Kenny leads him toward a private room upstars and in the back, past thick velvet curtains. “Suzuki’s already here. Try not to look like you’re gonna kill someone.”

Levi’s jaw ticks. “No promises.”

Two tall men are standing, dressed in all black suits, on either side of the velvet red curtains that separate the wolves from their leader. The one on the right steps up, chest puffed out. He eyes both Kenny and Levi before speaking. “This area’s blocked off. Head back down.”

Kenny doesn’t break stride. He simply reaches into his coat, flashing something—an emblem, a card, maybe even just the weight of his name. Whatever it is, it’s enough to make the guard hesitate.

“He’s expecting us,” Kenny says, voice smooth but with an edge that suggests he’s not in the mood to repeat himself. “Now step aside.”

The guard’s jaw tightens, and he glances toward the other man, who gives a small nod. With a reluctant sigh, the first one steps back, tugging the curtain aside.

Kenny winks at him on the way in. “Atta boy.”

Levi follows his uncle, his boots nearly silent against the plush carpet. His eyes flicker over the details of the room like a sniper zeroing in. He can feel it—every inch of this place is designed to disarm, to distract. And yet, his guard is higher than ever. The private room is dimly lit, the atmosphere intimate, suffocating. A low table sits in the center, encircled by deep sapphire couches that seem to swallow anyone who sits in them. The scent of aged whiskey, cigar smoke, and some cloying cologne hits his nose instantly.

And there he is.

Makoto Suzuki sits like a man who’s owned the room since birth, legs crossed, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch. His suit is dark navy, custom, his tie just loose enough to suggest control disguised as ease. His grey hair is styled neatly back, and his auburn eyes are trained on the swirling dark liquid in his glass. There's a woman perched next to him, draped across the couch more like decoration than companion. She doesn't even look up. There’s four more of his henchmen standing beside the couch, two more seated at the tiny table in the corner engaged in a small game of cards. 

At their arrival, they all look up. 

Makoto’s gaze lifts slowly, and when it lands on Levi, something in it shifts. Calculating. Amused. Maybe even mildly impressed. He doesn’t stand, of course. Men like him don’t need to.

“Kenny,” he greets smoothly, lifting his glass in a faux toast. “And the infamous Levi Ackerman.” His voice is like smoke—polished, poisonous. ​​Makoto gestures toward the open couch across from him, entirely unfazed by the cold stare he's receiving. “You’re taller than I remember.”

Levi doesn’t blink or sit. “You’re exactly how I remember.”

Kenny stifles a chuckle, plopping himself down on the couch and pouring himself a drink. “Let’s keep it civil, boys.”

Makoto lets the jab roll off him like mist off marble. He leans forward slightly, that same damned calm expression etched across his face. “So, Kenny, how’ve you been?”

Kenny exhales like he’s just settled into his favorite recliner, legs spread, glass already swirling in his hand. “Busy. Making deals. Babysitting this one,” he jerks a thumb toward Levi without looking at him. “Same old.”

Makoto’s smile twitches—just enough to acknowledge the remark without really responding to it. His attention, however, doesn’t drift far from Levi. The kind of look a lion gives a stray dog: amused, but watchful. “And yet, you dragged him here. Which means he knows he’s not just here for the ambiance.”

Levi still hasn’t sat. He doesn’t intend to—not yet. The air in this room is thick with the kind of arrogance that turns his stomach. This man, this entire place, reeks of money and power layered like cologne over something rotting beneath.

Kenny, unbothered, tops off his glass and throws back a sip before answering. “Told you I’d find you someone. Someone you could trust to keep your girl safe.”

Makoto’s brow lifts, gaze sharpening. “My daughter is not some damsel in distress.”

Levi’s voice cut in, low and steady, “Then why does she need a bodyguard?”

Makoto’s eyes narrow just slightly. Not insulted—curious. Testing him. “Not many people speak to me like that, Mr. Ackerman.”

Levi doesn’t flinch. “Not many people interest me enough to bother speaking to at all.”

There’s a long pause, heavy but not quite tense—just enough to let the power dynamics settle. The woman beside Makoto finally shifts after he makes a subtle shrug of his shoulder, and she quietly excuses herself as she rises and disappears through a side door, unnoticed by anyone but Levi.

Kenny raises a brow and shoots Levi a warning glance that reads behave, but he doesn’t say a word.

Makoto finally leans back, the lazy smile returning to his lips. “I don’t trust easily. You know this. But your name,” he gestures vaguely in the air, “it still carries weight. Especially with them.” His eyes flicker with meaning—whether it’s to the press, politicians, or war-hardened enemies, it’s unclear. Probably all of the above. “My daughter is… unique. She’s sweet, but not stupid. Pretty, but not a pushover. She doesn’t know what’s circling her yet, and that’s exactly why she needs protection. She knows her role, and I intend to have her keep playing that.”

Levi folds his arms. “Then hire a soldier.”

“I did,” Makoto replies simply. “I hired you.”

Something sharp passes between them. Understanding, maybe. Or recognition.

Kenny sighs, slumping further into the couch. “You gonna stand all night like a coat rack, or you gonna sit and listen?”

Levi eyes the couch like it might bite, then slowly moves to perch on the edge—not relaxed, not open. Always ready. His stare stays locked on Makoto.

Makoto studies him in turn, then finally gives a small, tight smile. “You’ve killed a lot of people, haven’t you?”

 “So have you.”

The smile lingers, but it doesn’t quite reach Makoto’s eyes. “Then we’ll get along just fine.”

A silence settles again. Somewhere outside the door, the jazz track shifts to something slower, more sultry. Time continues as if the world doesn’t realize two predators just agreed to circle each other, for now. Then Makoto raises his glass again, eyes gleaming. “To the devil you know.”

Kenny chuckles, clinks his glass. Levi doesn't move. He just stares. Because to him, the devils have always worn suits like this one.

“How much?” He finally asks.

Makoto leisurely sips his drink, setting the glass onto the table between them. 

He leans back, fingers steepling loosely in front of him, head tilted slightly like he’s just been waiting for Levi to ask. “How much is her life worth to me?” he muses aloud, as if the question is more philosophical than transactional. “More than any sum I could ever offer. But you, Mr. Ackerman—you’re not a man who wastes time with sentiment.”

Levi’s silence confirms it.

Makoto chortles. “Ten thousand a week. A private penthouse suite. Round-the-clock access to every resource you’d need—transport, intel, weapons, contacts. And no leash. You work how you want, answer to no one but me.”

Kenny whistles low beside him. “That’s one hell of a package, even for you.”

Levi doesn’t look impressed. “Sounds like you expect a war.”

The atmosphere is a live wire—thrumming between them, sparking with old blood and new stakes. It’s broken by Makoto rising from his seat, his men following. He straightens out his suit jacket and makes a motion with his fingers. “Come, I’ll show you the prize right now.”

And Levi finds himself reluctantly following along like a dog, and Kenny too. The group of men exit from the curtains, heading back down the spiraling staircase. The music softens as they descend the staircase, like the club itself is aware something heavier just entered the room. Without a word, the other guests make way for the group, some women sending flirtatious waves or doe-eyed smiles towards Makoto.  Levi’s eyes flicker across the patrons who glance up, some pretending not to stare, others openly gawking. Power like Makoto’s always draws attention, and the entourage trailing behind only confirms it. Levi hates this part—the theatrics, the display, the illusion of untouchable grandeur. But he plays along, stoic as ever, even as they cut through the low hum of conversation like a blade through silk.

Makoto slides into the center seat at the lavish round table like a king returning to his throne. The plush leather molds around him effortlessly, his posture regal but relaxed. Levi takes the seat to his right, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the dramatics. Kenny flops down on the left like he’s done this a thousand times—which, knowing him, he probably has.

The men behind them form a wall of polished muscle and sharp gazes, stationed with silent obedience. 

Makoto signals to a woman behind the bar with a simple glance, and almost instantly, she nods and disappears into the back. Levi’s gaze tracks the interaction, narrowing slightly. 

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Only moments later, the crowd parts—slow and smooth—as you step out from behind the deep red curtain, flanked by two club hostesses who clearly pale in comparison. You're wearing a purple satin number, delicate and barely-there, its shimmer catching the warm light in all the wrong—and right—ways. Your hair is styled with effortless elegance, and you walk like you’ve never tripped a day in your life. Or like someone taught you never to look like you did.

Levi doesn’t breathe for a second. Not out of awe, but surprise.

He wasn’t expecting this. Well, you surely look…different.

You don’t look at the men who part like waves for you. You don’t even glance toward Makoto until you’re at the table, offering only a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Father,” you say smoothly, voice soft but clear.

Makoto gives a pleased nod. “Darling,” he murmurs, like the word itself is another performance.

You look to the man beside him—Kenny—and offer a subtle tilt of your head, polite, reserved. Then your eyes slide over to Levi. Your gaze lingers.

And Levi… feels it.

Not just the scrutiny. But the weight of expectation. Of curiosity. Maybe even challenge.

“Having a good time?” Your father asks as you lean down, turning your head slightly so he can plant a reverent kiss on your cheek. “Mingling and all that, yes?”

You chuckle, red-stained lips curling upwards in a soft way. “Oh, yes, father. Of course I’ve been. I’ve made friends with some of those you've asked me to.”

There’s a silent look in your eyes—like you and your father are telepathically communicating. Levi’s eyes barely stray from you, forcing himself to get familiar with his charge’s expressions. Your father hums in approval, nodding. “Good girl.”

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, head tilting. “Though…maybe some of my friends are having a bit…too much fun.”

Makoto follows your line of sight toward a semi-rowdy group of older men. Drained glasses littering their table as one they laugh boisterously at their own jokes. Your father’s jaw ticks slightly, giving three of his men a tiny nod in the group’s direction. 

The command is silent but understood. The three guards move swiftly—like shadows trained in courtesy and intimidation—drifting toward the group of men without needing to speak. Their presence alone sobers the laughter, draining it from the air like a sudden draft of cold wind. The drunkest among them nearly chokes on his drink, sputtering apologies before anyone even lays a hand on him. Levi doesn’t miss the shift. The way your lips press together just slightly. Like you're both amused and weary of what your father’s influence can do.

Makoto turns back to you, eyes glittering with a sharp kind of pride. “You’ve always had a good eye.”

You shrug lightly, folding your hands in front of you like you're nothing more than an accessory at the table. “I just like keeping things...elegant.”

It’s then that Makoto gestures toward Levi with the casual air of someone introducing a pet he’s particularly fond of. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’ll be looking after you from now on.”

You finally turn to face him fully.

Levi meets your gaze, this time with intention. The color in your eyes is sharp, observant—more calculating than your painted smile suggests. It’s a quick scan, top to bottom, and Levi feels it again. The test. Like you're waiting to see what kind of man your father’s put in front of you this time. “I see,” you murmur, tone unreadable. Then, with graceful attachment, you sit at the table—choosing the empty lap of Levi himself. He stiffens in surprise, his initial instinct urging him to push you off. Your sweet scent invades his nostrils instantly. However, he withstands it, deciding he wouldn’t like to deal with the consequences as of now. “You like wine, Mr. Ackerman?” you ask lightly, pouring yourself a glass from the bottle that was already waiting.

Levi doesn’t answer right away. His eyes study you, more than the wine, more than your dress. Trying to read between your lines. Trying to decide if you’re amused by all this. “I don’t drink,” he replies flatly.

“Oh, what a shame. This is the finest liquor in all of Marley.” You pout, bringing the rim of the glass to your lips. Your eyes don’t stray from his as you indulge, licking your lips clean when you bring it away. “My father must’ve really hired such a resolute man.” You chuckle, leaning forward slightly and sending your father a subtle glance. 

“As resolute as there is.” Makoto huffs in amusement. 

Makoto’s pride crackles in the air like a cigar ember burning low—hot, glowing, dangerous.

Levi doesn’t respond to the praise. He just sits there, solid and unsmiling, posture stiff beneath the soft weight of you in his lap. He can feel the way you effortlessly carry yourself. You wear your charm like a silk veil—delicate and graceful. 

You swirl the wine in your glass, voice lilting as you speak again. “Will he be sleeping in my room too?”

Makoto chuckles low, slow. “Only if you give him reason to.”

Now it’s Levi’s turn to give your father a look. He almost wants to blurt out the obvious question of why he’s allowing you to act like this in front of him. Why he seems completely okay with a hypothetical situation of some man you just met sleeping in his daughter’s room. But instead, he’s joking about it—going along with it, enabling it.

Do you usually act like this with men?

Kenny lets out a bark of laughter at that. You glance back at Levi, brows lifting. “Do you take orders well, Mr. Ackerman?”

He stares back at you, unflinching. “Only from the ones I respect.”

You hum, intrigued but unshaken. “I suppose we’ll see if I earn that.” 

The moment hangs there—heavy, stretched taut like wire. Then you slide off him in one smooth motion, as if the whole thing was just a test. A show of dominance in velvet gloves. You cross your legs and lean back in your seat beside him, your posture still elegant. The toe of your heel nonchalantly brushes against his calf, up and down. 

Makoto raises his glass in a lazy toast, gaze moving between you and Levi. “To new arrangements,” he declares.

You and Kenny echo the sentiment, a sweet giggle falling from your lips. Glasses clink. Wine swirls. The club resumes its slow, seductive pulse around them—but Levi knows something in the air has shifted.

This wasn’t just a job anymore.

This was theater. A powder keg. And he was now sitting in the front row, watching it smolder.

And the woman sitting beside him—who had moments ago treated his lap like a throne—now looks like a statue carved from something more fragile than stone. Still, poised, but not entirely present.

Levi glances at you from the corner of his eye.

You're watching the club floor now, eyes half-lidded, fingers idly tracing the rim of your wine glass. You laugh at something Makoto says, soft and sweet, but Levi hears how hollow it is. Like you’ve told that laugh to show up on cue too many times. And as he leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely, Levi’s thoughts crawl.

Makoto didn’t hire a bodyguard for your safety. Not really. 

 He hired a leash.

But Levi Ackerman doesn’t do leashes—not for long.

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@bouquetoflove @reivelmin

[littlesoulshine]

you loved the gasp dean gave when he saw the receipt—lace, silk, and more ridiculous things he can’t pronounce. the scratch off he'd grumbled about at the gas station had hit three hundred big ones, which made you look at him with those eyes, wide and twinkling like you didn’t know exactly how to wrap him around your finger. now here you were in the cheap motel, panties like floss and a babydoll dress clinging to your tits.

"alright, bunny," dean drawled from the rickety cushioned chair in the corner, his voice low with a cocky smirk, painted on his face. “show and tell....turn around slow, yeah?”

you bite your lip, swaying just enough to make the hem flutter up your thighs. you know he’s watching the shift of the soft fabric across your ass.

sam lays on the bed, arms folded behind his head and looong legs spread. "you gonna model all of it, bunny? or just tease us like that all night?"

"mmm, well depends if you boys behave," you murmur, stepping into the fluorescent light. this set....powder pink, with a lace so sheer it might as well be painted on. your nipples are hard, visible through the cups and your thighs glisten from lotion and oil, dean so happily rubbed into your skin after your shower.

you twirl, slow, hands in your hair, and when your back’s to them you hear dean’s chair creak forward.

“bend over,” dean says (which was definitely not a question).

you glance back over your shoulder, feigning innocence, but your cunt clenches just hearing the shift in his tone, command. you bend slow and exaggerated with your hands on your knees, ass high, the lace wedging between your cheeks.

there's a low whistle behind you. then, sam’s voice, groans “you’re lucky i’m not closer, bunny....that’s a dangerous view.”

you arch a little more because you want them to see the little bow on the back of your cheeksters, the strip of fabric that hides almost nothing. you hear dean's breath hitch. "fuckin' hell," he mutters. "that ass should be illegal."

after a couple minutes, you feel it—someone's hands, large and warm. dean's palms smoothing over your hips, thumbs dipping dangerously low on your body. “you wear this shit for us?” he growls, low and rough against your ear. “or just cause you like makin’ us hard and not gettin’ dicked down?”

sam stands behind you now, silent till you feel his hands on your shoulders, slowly massaging them. “c’mon, bunny,” he hums. “you love when we look at you like this. makes you wet, doesn’t it?”

you moan, a small thing sound,very involuntary.

sam chuckles, low. “uh huh....knew it.”

you’re sandwiched now. dean’s fingers tugging the lace down, super slowly teasing you with the friction. while sam, pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck while his hands smooth down your sides, gripping, mapping every curve and dip.

“this one’s cute,” dean mutters, snapping the waistband and making you jump. “but i wanna see the black one next....the crotchless one.”

sam makes a noise, dark and approving. “that the one with the garters?”

“fuck yeah, sammy.”

your knees wobble. but you like it. the attention, the heat, the way they look at you like you’re dessert.

"better change fast, bunny," dean says, smacking your ass once, very rough. “or we’ll help you outta it.”

sam adds, "and we won’t be gentle."

you straighten, cheeks flushed, thighs slick, and heartbeat in your cunt.

“okay,” you whisper, turning with a smile so saccharine it could kill. “but you’re not allowed to touch...just watch.”

both of them groan. but they sit obedinantly watching as you changed into the next set—this one even worse. black mesh, no modesty, and lace stockings that cling to your thighs.

"bend again," they both say, and you obey, because you like when they look at you like that. because you’re their bunny.

tags: @soldiersgirl @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @bittersweetfig @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @bocadelinfierno @sunnyteume @bejeweledinterludes @k-slla @lunaleah @pieandflannel @zepskies @liiiilsss

[pepsil4ver17]

Dry humping with Bakugo for the first time but reader is shy

You and katsuki have been dating for about four months now, but you guys haven’t really gotten intimate with each, the furthest being a steamy make out sesh.

But you didn’t want to just make out.

…

You were at Bakugo’s dorm watching a movie all cuddled up, you glance up at him but he seems to be too engrossed in the movie playing to notice.

You were bored and wanted some attention from your boyfriend but didn’t know how to ask.

You sigh Unintentionally, causing Bakugo to look down before him saying “Tch what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing”

He knew you were lying Bakugo wasn’t stupid, he knew you wanted some attention it was written all over your face. He noticed how many times you looked up at him, your eyes full in hopes he’d notice you.

He lets out a breath before pulling you into his lap

“Is this what you wanted hm? Some attention?”

He mumbles kissing down you neck, before coming back up and attacking your lips.

You lean into the kiss before opening your mouth slightly hoping Bakugo would take the invite- which he did.

But you needed more.

Both your hands met up and tangled their way into Bakugo’s hair earning a groan from him. God it turned him on when you did that.

Still needing more you grind your hips down onto Bakugo, him bucking his hips slightly at the contact, causing you to whimper.

God it felt good. You grind down on his again before slightly pulling away from the kiss

“I-is this ok?”

“Obviously dumbass” he says kissing you again mumbling into your lips “wouldn’t let you if it wasn’t”

His hands roam over your body before meeting at your waist guiding your hips along his, creating a steady rhythm.

You apply more pressure which causes you and Bakugo to moan in sync.

“Feels good” you manage to let out, Bakugo moving down to kiss your neck leaving little marks all over.

“Tch obviously” he says into your neck his hot breath sending shivers down your spine

The friction was driving both you and Bakugo crazy.

“Think I might cum like this pretty girl” Bakugo says pulling away from your neck and staring directly into your eyes, watching as you get nervous never really being able to hold eye contact with him.

You turn red hot, embarrassed, you look down at where your hips met with his watching as you grind yourself down, Bakugo’s hips bucking up at yours.

His hardness is prominent. He grabs your face forcing you to look at him-

“Getting shy on me hm?”

He says a smirk plastered across his face.

You start to grind your hips faster and harder against his, whimpering slightly, that feeling building up in your stomach.

Bakugo noticed. Of course. How could he not?

“You close baby? You gonna cum for me?”

He words send you over the edge, you throw your head back moaning as you come undone.

Bakugo thrusts up, chasing his high, your pretty moans and whimpers sending him over the edge.

Once you come down from your high you glance down at Bakugo who is already staring at you with his casual smirk.

“Enjoy yourself? Is that what you wanted hm?”

You nod looking away shyly earring a chuckle from Bakugo.

“Look at the mess you made me make baby”

You look down and sure enough, you see the wet patch from his orgasm. You turn a bright red shade which Bakugo finds adorable.

“We are gonna do that more often baby.”



[arthurs-rec-room]

Hi I read Lord of the Flies sophomore year of high school! It was assigned to the whole class and we learned mostly about symbolism through it. Mainly, the island symbolizes the world, the boys symbolize adults, and their actions symbolize war. War is a real thing that happens, but you know what doesn't happen? Children killing each other on an island.

In 1965 a plane full of teenage boys crashed on an island and they were stranded for over a year. It was apparently much more peaceful than how it played out in Golding's book.

I don't really have a big point to make with this. It's just that every time I hear about Lord of the Flies I feel the need to infodump because reading that book seriously was like, a canon event in my life.

A lot of violent things are portrayed throughout the book, with each event symbolizing something bigger than what it is. The killing of the sow represents sexual assault and the loss of innocence. The killing of Simon is debated to be representative of the crucifixion of Jesus. (There's a lot of religious symbolism going on in LotF, the title is literally a translation of "Beelzebub")

I think it's important to note that not all symbols in LotF have a negative connotation, specifically three of the main characters. Ralph represents leadership and civilization. Simon represents natural human good will. Piggy (I find it sad we never know his real name) represents intellectualism and his glasses represent technology. (Two out of three of these characters do end up dying, but I digress)

I feel like it is essential to know that William Golding fought in WWII in order to understand Lord of the Flies. The book was 100% influenced by his trauma, if not, it's fully a product of it. It assumes so much evil about mankind because the author was traumatized by seeing mankind at it's most evil. War is evil. But not all humans seek the power that necessitates war. Most people are good. And teenagers don't kill each other when stranded on islands.

"Oh yeah? If X is not true, then how come someone has written a story in which it is?" -- a distressingly large number of people

[reveriebae]

Bunny in His Bed

pairing(s) : Song Mini x reader

word count : 4922

summary : You're the soft, innocent girl who only ever had one vanilla experience—with no idea what real filth could feel like. That is, until you end up rooming with your best friend’s older brother, Mingi. A pervert with a teasing mouth and no self-restraint when it comes to your cute sleep dresses and breathy little moans. He takes it slow, then ruins you completely—making you beg, cry, squirt, and ride him until you’re too dumb to think. But he still makes you breakfast after, calling you his princess in between filthy whispers.

genre : smut

warning(s) : Slight somnophilia vibes (consensual, implied history), Innocent but perverted reader, Best friend’s older brother, Roommate AU, Pussy slapping / squirting, Spanking (lots of it), Orgasm denial + overstimulation, Crying during sex (pleasure), Dirty talk / praise / teasing, Light dumbification, Reader wears cute sleep dresses, Mutual pining masked as lust, Fluffy aftercare with continued filth

A/N : This might be the last fic I uploaded this month, or maybe I'm gonna take some rest for a while😮‍💨

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut🪐

It wasn’t the first night you walked into the shared kitchen in one of your tiny little sleep dresses—but this one had lace trim that swayed with every step and straps thin enough to slip off your shoulder. You weren’t even trying to be sexy. That was the worst part. You were just… comfortable.

And Mingi was already sitting at the counter, hoodie pulled halfway down his arms, curls messy from sleep. His eyes trailed up from your bare legs to the way the fabric clung to your hips. Silent. But you felt him staring.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked, padding across the tile barefoot, opening the fridge for a water bottle.

“Not really,” his voice came low. Rough. “You?”

You shrugged, turning around to face him, and leaned back against the fridge—completely unaware of how the thin fabric stretched across your chest. “Kinda warm tonight.”

Mingi didn’t say anything at first. He just kept looking at you, jaw ticking like he was holding something back.

It’d been two months since you moved in. Your best friend’s brother had offered the extra room when you said you needed a place. You trusted him. You knew he was older, a bit… different from the boys you’d dated before, but he never did anything to make you uncomfortable.

Until lately.

Lately, he lingered.

Watched.

“You always wear stuff like that to bed?” he finally asked, voice lower now.

You blinked. “Huh?”

“That little dress.” His eyes dropped to your thighs, where the hem rested dangerously high. “You walk around in that, knowing I’m home?”

You laughed a little. Nervous. “It’s not that short…”

Mingi stood up slowly, towering. The way he walked around the counter felt too quiet, too smooth, until he was right in front of you—so close you had to tilt your chin up just to keep eye contact.

“You’re either real clueless,” he murmured, reaching one hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “or you want me to stare.”

Your breath hitched. “Mingi…”

He smiled—lazy, dark, dangerous. “You ever been fucked right?”

You froze.

Your voice dropped into a whisper. “I’ve… only been with one guy. It wasn’t like that.”

Mingi groaned. “Figures.” He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “Bet you’ve never had someone stretch this cute little pussy open, make you cry, huh?”

Your thighs pressed together. You didn’t answer.

“You’d let me ruin you?” he muttered, voice thick. “Make you drool all over this kitchen counter?”

That was it. That was the moment something snapped. You nodded—tiny, trembling—and whispered:

“...Please.”

Mingi didn’t wait for you to say more. The second that quiet please left your lips, his hand was on your waist, dragging you flush against him like he’d been holding back for too long. You gasped when you felt how hard he already was—thick and pressed against your stomach through his sweats.

And then he kissed you.

Hard.

It wasn’t soft or shy or sweet like your ex used to kiss. Mingi kissed like he wanted to eat every breath from your lungs. Tongue in your mouth, lips moving against yours with filthy hunger, like he needed to claim you before you could change your mind.

Your little whimper was swallowed by his mouth.

He gripped your hips, pulling you closer until your thin sleep dress rode higher up your thighs. His hands were so big—touching too much, yet not enough. One slipped down to squeeze your ass through the fabric, and he groaned into your mouth. “Fuck… you’ve been hiding this from me all this time?”

“I didn’t know you looked at me like that,” you mumbled breathlessly between kisses, hands fisting into his hoodie.

He pulled back just enough to stare down at you, pupils blown wide. “I’ve been looking at you every fucking night, bunny. You walking around in these tiny little dresses, all innocent and sweet, acting like you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing to me.”

You whimpered at the pet name—bunny—and it only made him grin darker.

“Not gonna fuck you for the first time in the kitchen,” he muttered, gripping your wrist and tugging you toward the hallway. “Not when I’ve waited this long. My room. Now.”

You followed, dizzy and needy, barely noticing how your thighs brushed together with every step.

His room smelled like him—clean laundry and something warm, masculine. It was bigger than yours by far, and the bed looked like it could swallow you whole. He didn’t even turn on the light—just kicked the door shut and pushed you gently until you fell back onto the mattress.

You sat there, wide-eyed and flushed, legs folded under you.

Mingi’s hoodie was already coming off, revealing bare skin and toned arms as he stepped closer. “Take it off,” he ordered softly, nodding at your sleep dress. “Wanna see all of you.”

Your fingers trembled a little as you reached for the straps, slowly pulling them down one by one. The fabric slid down your chest… then over your waist… pooling around your hips before you pulled it off completely.

You sat there naked, knees pressed together, heart pounding so loud you swore he could hear it.

Mingi’s gaze dragged over you—slow, heavy, drinking in everything. “Fuck, baby… you’re gonna be the death of me.”

He dropped to his knees between your legs and pushed them apart gently, licking his lips.

“You ever been eaten out, sweetheart?”

You shook your head, shy. “No…”

His grin was wicked. “Good. You’ll remember your first.”

“Lie back for me,” Mingi murmured, guiding your shoulders until you were sprawled across his sheets—legs parted, chest rising and falling in uneven little breaths.

He kissed up the inside of your thigh first. Slow. Teasing. You whimpered when his nose brushed close to where you were already wet, and he groaned low in his throat.

“Shit… you’re already dripping.”

Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as his breath ghosted over your folds. And then—his tongue. One long, slow lick up your slit that had your hips jerking off the bed.

“Oh—Mingi—!”

“Yeah, baby?” he mumbled against your pussy, voice already wrecked. “Sensitive little thing, huh? Gonna cry just from my mouth?”

You shook your head, biting your lip, but the way your thighs trembled said otherwise.

Mingi didn’t tease for long. He licked you open and flat-out devoured you—his tongue dragging through every inch of you, dipping into your hole, circling your clit until your back arched off the bed. His grip on your thighs kept you spread, even as you twisted, even when you whimpered, “Mingi, I— I think I’m gonna—!”

He didn’t stop.

He growled into you, “Give it to me, bunny. Wanna taste how cute you cum.”

Your thighs shook. Your stomach tensed. And just as you hit the edge, his tongue flattened against your clit—and then slap—

His palm smacked against your dripping pussy. Just once. Light. Experimental.

You screamed.

Not from pain. From how violently your orgasm hit. It tore through you in messy, uncontrollable waves—and then you felt it. That hot rush, the release, the wet spray that soaked his mouth and chin and dripped down your thighs.

“Oh—oh my God—!”

You were trembling, toes curled, hands gripping the sheets so hard your knuckles turned white.

Mingi pulled back just enough to see the mess—lips wet, eyes blown out with shock and arousal. “Fuck, baby… you just squirted.”

You were still catching your breath, wide-eyed and teary, lips parted. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

He laughed. Dark. Proud. “Don’t apologize.” He leaned up, licking your slick from his fingers. “I’m making you do that again.”

Still trembling from the mess he’d pulled out of you, you tried to close your legs—but Mingi’s grip was firm.

“Ah, ah. Not done yet, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice gravelly and way too calm for someone who just got squirted on. “Still so sensitive... what, already crying?” he cooed as his fingers brushed your soaked clit.

You whimpered, legs kicking at the overwhelming touch. “I-It’s too much, Mingi—!”

But he just grinned, licking his lips. “Mm… I think you can give me one more. You got another one in this pretty pussy, right?”

You were too dazed to answer, and that only made him laugh—low and dark.

Then came his fingers. Two of them, thick and slow, sliding into you while his thumb pressed on your clit. He watched you with hungry eyes as your back arched again, moaning out broken little gasps.

And when you got close—that sweet, tense twist in your belly coming back—he stopped.

Pulled his hand back entirely.

You blinked in confusion, cheeks flushed, lips parted in a soft whine. “W-Why’d you stop…”

Mingi leaned down, nose brushing yours, smirking. “You think I’m gonna let you cum that easy, bunny? After that messy little squirt? Nah. I wanna watch you fall apart first.”

You squirmed under him, legs rubbing together for friction, whining softly as he started teasing again—light flicks over your clit with the very tip of his tongue.

Then fingers. Just pressing at your entrance, not pushing in.

You were twitching, gasping. “Please, Mingi, wanna cum… I wanna—wanna feel it again…”

He let out a low hum, lips brushing your inner thigh. “Such a needy little baby. One good orgasm and now you can’t even speak right?”

“Mingi—please!”

He slapped your pussy again. Sharp. Hot. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make your whole body jolt.

“Say it better, sweetheart. Use your words. What do you want?”

You sniffled, eyes glassy. “Wanna cum… wanna feel your fingers, your tongue, anything— please, Mingi, I’ll be good—”

“Shit.” He sucked a breath through his teeth, finally sliding two fingers in again, pumping hard. “You’re too fucking cute when you beg.”

This time—he let you cum.

And you screamed, all messy and twitching, a moaning little thing with your back off the bed and your thighs trembling around his head. You sobbed through it, babbling nonsense, fingers gripping the sheets as your slick dripped down his wrist.

But Mingi didn’t stop.

He kept going.

Sloppy thrusts. No rhythm. Just filthy, greedy, overstimulating pleasure while you whimpered, “T-Too much—gonna break, Mingi—ah, ah—!”

“Oh, baby…” he groaned, tongue dragging up your soaked folds one more time. “You’re already broken.”

He’d barely given you time to catch your breath before pulling you into his lap—legs trembling, lips parted with a dazed little pout as you straddled his hips.

“C’mere, baby,” Mingi said, voice low and wrecked, “Wanna see you ride this cock. Wanna watch those pretty tits bounce while I ruin that dumb little head of yours.”

Your hands pressed against his chest for balance, thighs already shaky as you lined yourself up—his cock thick and heavy against your folds. He didn’t even help. Just laid back with that smug, perverted smirk on his face like he had all the time in the world.

“You gonna do it all by yourself, sweetheart?” he teased, thumb brushing your lip. “Show me how bad you want it.”

You whimpered, biting down on his thumb, and slowly sank down.

“Oh fuck—”

Your mouth dropped open in a silent cry as he filled you up, inch by inch, stretching you so deep it felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes fluttered shut, the burn so good, the pressure perfect—and when you finally sat flush against his hips, you were already shaking.

Mingi hissed through his teeth, staring up at you with that hungry look. “Shit, baby, look at you—taking all of me like that… Tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You whimpered, hips rolling instinctively. “Mingi… s’too big…”

He grabbed your waist, dragging you up just enough before letting you drop back down. “Nah, baby. You’re made for this. For me. Show me how you fuck.”

So you moved.

Bounced.

Slow at first, thighs burning from the stretch, your tits jiggling with every drop. And Mingi? He looked feral. One hand behind his head, the other lazily cupping your breast, watching it bounce with a low groan.

“Fuck… fuck, look at you,” he growled, thrusting up once to meet you and make you yelp. “Look how cute you are—riding my cock like it’s the only thing that matters.”

You cried out, little sobs slipping past your lips as you bounced harder, sloppier, the sounds of your slick echoing in the room.

“Am I makin’ you dumb, bunny?” he grinned, pulling on your waist to make you slam down harder. “You’re mumblin’ again…”

“I—ahh—feels s’good, Mingi, too good—dizzy—!”

“Yeah? You gonna cum on this cock?” he grunted, thrusting up to meet you again, fast and deep. “Gonna soak me like a filthy little slut?”

You nodded frantically, sobbing now, fingers clawing at his chest. “Please—please, wanna cum, please, please—!”

“Then cum.”

He sat up, mouth sucking one of your nipples into his mouth as you shattered—screaming, spasming around him, thighs locking up as you came so hard your whole body convulsed. Mingi groaned, holding you down on his cock, watching you lose your mind on top of him.

“Shit… You’re my favorite fucking toy now.”

Your thighs were quaking, tears running down your flushed cheeks, but you didn’t stop riding him. Not even when your head dropped back and your voice cracked from all the soft, incoherent sobs spilling out of your lips.

“S-s’too much—Mingi, f-fuck—can’t—!”

“Oh, but you can, baby.” His voice was wrecked with hunger, obsessed with the way you looked losing your mind on his cock. “You’re so cute when you cry like this. Makes me wanna keep you stuffed and full forever.”

He grabbed both of your tits, squeezing them roughly as he thrusted up into you hard enough to make you scream.

You sobbed, nails digging into his chest, your thighs trembling violently as the pleasure got too sharp, too deep, but he wasn’t letting up.

“Mingi—! Gonna cum again—!”

He grinned, lazy and smug. “Yeah? Show me.”

You came with a sob, body locking up as you spasmed around him, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as you collapsed forward on his chest.

But he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

“Turn around.”

Your hazy, tear-streaked eyes blinked at him. “H-huh?”

Mingi didn’t wait—he flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips up so your ass was in the air, your face buried in the mattress. You were so sensitive, so wrecked, and you felt him line back up without missing a beat.

Then—

SMACK!

You yelped.

“God, this ass is too fucking perfect,” he groaned, giving your cheek another hard slap. “Could stare at it all day.”

“M-Mingi—!”

SMACK!

“Say thank you.”

You whined, face burning. “T-thank you…”

“That’s my girl.” He slammed into you without mercy, burying himself to the hilt in one thrust.

Your scream was muffled by the sheets, fists grabbing at the blankets as he pounded into you from behind—relentless, filthy, insatiable.

He grabbed your hair, yanking your head up. “Let me hear you beg again. C’mon, say you love this cock.”

You hiccupped on a moan, body trembling like crazy. “L-love it—love your cock, Mingi—please, more, please!”

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, thrusting faster, the sound of your skin slapping echoing in the room. “I’m gonna make you squirt again. Gonna spank you while you cry on my dick.”

SMACK!

You screamed.

SMACK!

Tears spilled down again, body burning from both pleasure and pain as you felt yourself losing it all over again.

“I—I’m gonna—!”

“Do it. Squirt for me, baby. Make a mess on my cock.”

You cried out, body convulsing as you exploded, the gush of your release soaking his cock and thighs as you collapsed forward, babbling nothing but broken moans and needy whines.

And Mingi? He kept fucking you through it, whispering filthy things in your ear while he used your soft, fucked-out body like it was his personal toy.

Your legs gave out underneath you, dropping you in a trembling, sticky heap on the bed. Your thighs glistened with slick and spit, your chest rising and falling as soft hiccupy sobs slipped from your lips. Mingi had just pulled out, thick and hard and soaked in everything you’d given him—again.

But he hadn’t finished.

Not yet.

You peeked up at him through heavy lashes, eyes glassy and lips glossy with drool, a faint little whimper catching in your throat. Your body ached, pussy twitching with need, and your brain was too fogged up to think straight—but the emptiness was too much.

“M-Mingi…” Your voice cracked.

He stood at the edge of the bed, stroking himself slowly, watching you fall apart with a low, smug chuckle. “Look at you,” he teased. “Cute little thing, still crying. Didn’t I just make you squirt all over me?”

You shook your head, sniffled, and crawled to the edge of the bed on shaky hands and knees. “I-it’s not enough…” you whimpered, blinking up at him with big watery eyes.

“Oh?” He tilted his head. “You still want more, baby?”

You nodded, sniffling again, reaching out with both hands to grab at his thighs, pressing your cheek against the base of his cock like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “Please… please cum inside me… I w-want it so bad, Mingi, want you to ruin me…”

He groaned, grip tightening around his shaft.

“Been so good, haven’t I?” you mumbled, voice all cracked and wet and soft. “Let you use me however you wanted… I d-did everything—so please, fill me up…”

Tears ran down your flushed cheeks as your voice dropped even more—sweet and whiny and broken. “Don’t wanna be empty anymore…”

“Fuck—” He hissed through his teeth, eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you, trembling and begging and so fucking perfect.

He grabbed you, hard, lifting you up with ease and laying you on your back again, legs spread wide and shaking. “You wanna be full, baby?” he growled, lining himself up. “I’ll make sure you never feel empty again.”

You gasped when he slammed back inside you, and a sob broke out of your throat.

“Th-thank you—thank you, Mingi—!”

He groaned, wrapping your legs around his waist and pounding into you with feverish need, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other held your hip steady. “Crying while you thank me? Shit, baby, you’re gonna kill me…”

You were blabbering now, voice high and pitchy, clinging to his back as he drove you into the mattress. “Feels so good—so deep—Mingi, I’m gonna break—!”

“You’re already broken, sweetheart.” He kissed your temple, whispering like a lover even as he fucked you like a demon. “And you’re so fucking cute like this. So desperate, so messy, all mine right now…”

And when he finally came—hard, with a deep groan and his face buried in your neck—you cried out again, feeling the heat flood your core, your hands clawing at him as your body twitched through the aftershocks.

Still gasping, still trembling, still mumbling barely-there thank-yous.

And Mingi just held you, sweaty and breathless, as if he was never letting you go.

You didn’t even realize you were still leaking around him until he shifted his hips, still buried deep in your swollen, overstretched walls. Mingi’s hand rubbed soothing circles into your back, his lips brushing over your forehead in soft little kisses. You felt so warm—so full—your breath slowing, your heartbeat steadying under the weight of his body.

But his cock was still inside you.

Still thick, twitching every now and then.

And he was hardening again.

You mumbled something incoherent, more like a dreamy hum than actual words, nuzzling into his neck.

“…You awake, baby?” Mingi whispered, voice hoarse, raspy with exhaustion.

You nodded sleepily, cheeks sticky with dried tears and your thighs aching deliciously. “Mmhm… still inside…”

“Still warm,” he groaned, grinding his hips just enough to feel your pussy clench. “Fuck… you’re hugging me so tight, baby. You gonna let me use you one more time?”

A sleepy whimper slipped out, and your fingers curled into his back. “T-too much…”

“Just one more,” he murmured, voice sweet but filthy. “You’re already so full, might as well keep stuffing you, yeah?”

He rolled his hips again, deeper this time, and you gasped—tired, overstimulated, but already soaking all over again. “Mingi… I can’t—”

“You can,” he whispered, lips brushing against your temple. “You’re doing so good, baby. So pretty, even when you’re crying… my cute little roommate.”

He slowly started thrusting, every movement gentle but deep, dragging out the squelch of his cum between your legs with each slow stroke.

You whimpered, head tilting back, your legs falling open for him like instinct. “Ngh… f-feels good…”

“That’s it,” he groaned. “Just let me fuck you through it, baby. Let me feel your cute little pussy milk me dry.”

You moaned louder this time, slurred words spilling from your lips in breathy little gasps. “So deep—Mingi, y-you’re still so big, why’s it still so big…”

He chuckled softly, eyes dark as he stared down at your fucked-out face. “Because you’re too cute, baby. Can’t help myself…”

He kept going, slow and thick and messy, not even bothering to pull out as his cum dripped down between your cheeks, mixing with your slick and his spit. You blinked up at him, dazed and broken and glowing all at once.

And when he finally came again with a quiet, shuddering groan, you whimpered at the warmth flooding you for the second time.

“…Mingi…” you breathed out, nearly incoherent. “Y-you’re gonna break me…”

“You’re already broken, sweetheart,” he murmured, laying soft kisses along your collarbone as he rutted lazily into you a few more times before stilling.

“But fuck, baby… I’ve never seen anything as pretty as you falling apart.”

The sunlight was barely peeking through the blinds when you stirred, your legs twitching from the dull ache between them. You were wrapped up in warmth—Mingi's chest against your back, his heavy arm draped around your waist, and his cock still lazily nestled against your ass, soft but twitching with every slow breath.

“Mingi…” you whispered sleepily, voice hoarse and sweet.

He groaned low, nuzzling into your neck. “Morning already?”

You giggled softly, your body sore in all the right places. “My thighs hurt…”

He kissed your shoulder. “Good. That means I fucked you right.”

You turned your face toward him, cheeks hot, eyes still puffy from last night’s cute little crying fits. “Pervert.”

“Your pervert.” He smirked, biting playfully at your earlobe. “And you loved it.”

You hummed. “I did…”

There was a beat of silence, and then you sighed. “But I’m sticky. We’re gross.”

“Guess we should clean up, huh?” he whispered, voice already heavy with mischief.

Before you could protest, he rolled you both out of bed and scooped you up bridal-style, your sleep dress barely hanging on your shoulders. You squealed, arms flying around his neck.

“Mingi—!”

“I said we’re showering. Gotta make sure my baby is squeaky clean.”

He kicked the bathroom door open and sat you on the cold counter, standing between your legs with his hands on your bare thighs. He just stared at you for a second—at the messed-up lace, the little bruises, the faint red handprints he’d left behind.

And then, “You gonna let me clean you with my tongue again, baby?”

You blinked at him, lips parting.

“…You’re hopeless.”

But when you opened your legs for him again, you both knew you didn’t mean it.

Mingi turned the shower on, steam curling into the room as the water heated up. While it warmed, he leaned down and kissed you—slow and deep, his tongue lazily exploring your mouth while his big hands slid under your sleep dress, dragging it up and off your body.

“Still so cute even when you’re wrecked,” he murmured, voice low and thick with sleep and lust. “Wanna fuck you all over again.”

Your body twitched at his words, your thighs pressing together instinctively. “I’m still sore…”

“I’ll be gentle,” he said—though the glint in his eyes said otherwise.

He picked you up again and stepped into the shower with you, water cascading over both your bodies, his arms strong and steady around you. You let out a shaky breath as the warmth soothed your aching muscles, but your comfort didn’t last long.

Mingi pinned your back to the slick wall tiles, water running down his broad shoulders as he grabbed your thighs and hoisted them around his waist. His cock was already hard again, flushed and throbbing against your core.

“Y-you said gentle,” you mumbled, flushed and wide-eyed.

“I said I’ll try,” he corrected, smirking. “But you’re too damn addicting, baby. Can’t help it.”

You whined as he rubbed his cockhead along your folds, spreading his cum and your slick from the night before. “Mingi… I—”

“You’re always so wet for me,” he groaned. “Still leaking, baby? God, look at you…”

He pushed in slow—just the tip—and your eyes fluttered shut, your lips parting in a soft moan as your head thunked back against the tile. The heat of the water, the steam, his body against yours—it was all too much and not enough.

“F-fuck, you’re tight,” he growled, gripping your thighs tighter. “Even after everything I did last night…”

You gasped as he slid in deeper, your arms locking around his neck. “M-Mingi… ah—nghh—s-still sore…”

“I know, baby,” he cooed, kissing your cheek. “But you can take it. You always do. My good girl.”

His hips began to move, slowly at first—just enough for you to feel the stretch all over again. You whimpered into his shoulder, legs trembling, but your pussy clenched around him greedily.

“Making those cute noises again…” he muttered, voice almost desperate. “Say something for me, baby.”

“F-feels good,” you managed, your voice slurred, high and breathy. “So big—s-stretching me again…”

“You’re dripping,” he whispered against your ear. “Fucking leaking around me, and I’m not even moving fast yet.”

You let out a sob, your fingers tangling in his wet hair. “Please—Mingi—feels too good—don’t stop—”

And he didn’t.

He began thrusting harder, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing in the shower, water spraying off his back while he fucked you raw against the tile. You whimpered, moaned, your head rolling as he hit that same deep, sweet spot over and over until your body was convulsing in his arms.

“Cum for me,” he grunted. “Wanna feel you fall apart again.”

And you did—your eyes rolled back, your mouth fell open in a silent cry, your whole body shaking as you came hard around him. And right after, with a strangled groan, he buried himself deep and spilled inside you again.

For the fourth time.

You both panted, clinging to each other as the water kept pouring over you. Mingi kissed your temple softly.

“I should get a gold medal for this,” he muttered playfully.

You mumbled into his shoulder, barely coherent. “Mm… just feed me breakfast…”

He grinned. “After I eat you for breakfast again.”

After the shower, your legs barely held you up, so Mingi wrapped you in a towel and carried you straight to the kitchen like you weighed nothing. You were wearing one of his oversized shirts now—still damp and clinging to your soft curves, the hem brushing your thighs with every step you took.

Mingi was shirtless, sweatpants slung low on his hips, his hair still damp and messy. And the way his eyes kept dropping to your bare legs as he cooked? That hungry look never left.

“You know,” he muttered, flipping the pancakes in the pan, “I could bend you over this counter right now. Bet your pussy’s still twitching from the shower.”

You whimpered into your glass of juice, squirming in the stool you sat on. “Mingi…”

“What? I’m just saying,” he smirked, setting the plate down in front of you. “You looked so cute, all dumb and crying on my cock. How am I supposed to not talk about it?”

You pouted, hiding your red face behind your fork. “You’re so dirty…”

“And you love it,” he whispered as he leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “You love when I talk to you like that, don’t you? Gettin’ all shy now, but you were begging me to spank your pussy five minutes ago.”

Your thighs clenched automatically, eyes fluttering. “That was… different…”

He kissed your temple and slid into the stool beside you. “Nah. You’re just my pretty little pillow princess who gets shy after being ruined.”

You shoved his arm playfully, cheeks hot. “Eat your pancake, pervert.”

But your voice was so soft, your smile too wide—because you did love it. Every filthy word, every dirty look he gave you like you were his favorite thing to ruin.

Mingi leaned on his elbow, watching you eat with that same smirk tugging at his lips.

“After this… I’m putting you back in bed,” he murmured lowly. “And you’re gonna sit on my cock nice and slow while I kiss you. Let’s see how many times I can make you cum without moving my hips.”

You choked on your juice.

He patted your back, completely unbothered. “Careful, baby. Can’t have you dying before I ruin you again.”

[aestherin]

I CAN SEE YOU

track 05: late

NOTE: update bc lenten break started ^^ how are y'alll 👀

It was not a hidden truth to you that your good friend Venti, more known by his penname 'Barbatos', had his way with words. If he didn't, how else would he have had the long list of critically acclaimed works penned under his name? However, there was a first for everything.

You now jokingly doubted whether he actually wrote those poems. You mean — how could someone so articulate and flowery fail to do Inazuma justice?!

Yes, Venti did hype the place up. Yes, he did describe it in positive light. Yes, he was convincing enough to make you extend your stay (for a considerable amount of time at that). But you never imagined Inazuma would be this majestic.

After just a step onto Inazuman ground, freshly fallen petals of varying purples graced your feet. Cold, fragrant breeze embraced you immediately, a stark difference from the warm and gentle winds of your homeland.

Wow. You really left home.

Did you ask permission and tell your parents that there won't be anyone home in your apartment for a long while? No.

Did you care?

Well, actually, yes. It was your first time to go out of town after all. And it is a secret trip, no less. You could not help thinking about the repercussions of your actions, but you forced yourself to, for once, live in the moment and cast those worries aside for later.

Was this how your classmates felt when they used to sneak out past their curfews during high school?

"Your room number is 0616. Here is your key card. Enjoy your stay!" The hotel receptionist flashed a smile, to which you were trained to only respond with a small nod and a slight curve of lips.

A small yet clean room welcomed you. The furnishings, though evidently luxurious, was not to your liking, however. It reminded you of home your family house, where everything was excessively lavish all due to your family's vanity and pretentiousness. No matter. Who expects a hotel room to make you feel at home anyway?

Besides, you were planning to search for a temporary rental space after your very very important meeting tomorrow. If luck permits, you may not even be staying for so long in this stuck-up room.

The only thing you have to do for today is rest well and early in order to be in your best state during tomorrow's meeting.

What the heck is happening?!

Trying to keep yourself seem sane and professional as you converse with a few select officers and staff of Narukami Entertainment when, in fact, you were internally freaking out was not how you envisioned this meeting to be.

You really thought you'd do fairly well.

Constant exposure to pretentious men in suits, masked ladies of high society, and those pretenders claiming to be 'art connoisseurs' your whole life has provided you with ample confidence that you can handle today's affairs flawlessly.

Or at the very least, decently.

Well that was before you saw your favorite singer-songwriter's manager in the same meeting room.

"Here, we prepared a contract." Scaramouche's manager slid a folder across the table. "Go through it first. Feel free to tell us if you wish to change anything, or if you find anything disagreeable."

"Thank you."

You started to go through the contract, meticulously going through each and every clause, assessing each and every word — until one stopped you in your tracks.

'Scaramouche.'

Oh fuck.

Your jests were really just that. Just jests. Not even you believed that it would actually turn real. The state of your mind right now was the exact opposite of what you are projecting, seemingly composed as you were signing the papers.

'Archons, what country did I save in my past life that I get to work with my favorite artist in this life?'

'Will Scaramouche be here?'

'Holy, if I work with him, does that mean I get a spoiler about his next album because I get to make a cover? Can I hear sample songs? Can I know the tracklist? Can I get a signed alb—'

"Okay, so are we all good for today then?" His manager asked as he retrieved the documents.

Oh. So I won't be seeing him.

Maybe they don't really allow their artists to just meet anyone. Understandable, especially since Scaramouche is insanely famous. Maybe you'd never even get to interact with him for the whole duration of the project.

Nevertheless, your heart still leaped at the thought of contributing to his upcoming album.

"Yeah." You flashed a smile. "I think I'm good —"

"Sorry I'm late."

I CAN SEE YOU — scara x reader smau

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