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revasserium · 6 months ago

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roronoa zoro; 21,051 words (not including epilogue), fluff and angst, ENEMIES!!! to lovers, the slowest of slow burns, canon-normal violence, on-page description of injury, excessive use of flashbacks, some banter, healing from trauma, baroque works!reader to strawhat!reader, no "y/n", emotionally constipated!zoro, hurt and comfort, angst with a happy ending; (epilogue tags will be posted separately)

summary: in which neither you nor zoro are the children you remember each other to be.

update: new chapters will be posted on @shouyuus!!!

a/n: IT'S FINALLY HERE!!! i honestly cannot believe i actually finished writing this lmfao. but anyway, this post will act as a table of contents/masterlist of sorts, and i will update links to the separate chapters as they go up. chapters will be posted every few days (but they are all done! except for the epilogue LOL). i've tagged everyone who has req-ed to be tagged in this series so far on this prologue post, but if you wish to be tagged for the upcoming chapters and you're not already on this fics specific taglist, please comment below to be added! and without further ado -- here we go!

TABLE OF CONTENTS ━

prologue: someone, somewhere

chapter one: a shadow of the past

chapter two: tell no tales

chapter three: sleep of the living, dreams of the dead

chapter four: another life

chapter five: true love's kiss

epilogue: la petite mort (nsfw)

prologue: someone, somewhere

He remembers you most as a child, in halcyon images and gold-limned flashes of his own childhood memories, the edges blurring watercolor soft, but the center (always you) carved in knife-sharp relief.

You were one of the few children that lived in Shimotsuki Village who hadn’t come from the doujou — one of the few children he knew that (at least to the best of his knowledge) had a thing called family. A mother to braid your hair, a father to chase the darkness away, a warm bed and a kitchen that always smelled of freshly made rice. And perhaps it was jealousy, or some other more complicated emotion that had been then too big to name with one single word, but he’d never gone out of his way to befriend you like the other kids from the doujou did — fascinated as they were by your soft hands and round cheeks and the bright, glittering array of homemade sweets you’d bring with you once every couple of weeks.

He’d learn later on that it was because Shimotsuki-sensei had saved your father’s life at some point in time; the story now lost to the annals of legend and withering memory, but back then, he’d only assumed it was the natural way of things. Of waking up for kata practice and then settling in for lunch, and then maybe, if it was to be a good day, you, with your basket of sweets and your blue-bell laughter.

And perhaps this is why, years later, when he meets you again in a dark, nameless village tavern, he doesn’t recognize you — not at first. Because you’d looked so different. Gone was the roundness in your cheeks, or the natural star-bright light in your eyes. Gone, too, were the bright braids that your hair had always been set in — he remembers so clearly, watching the other boys from the doujou jab their fingers into the rings of your pinned up braids, pulling down just to hear you squeak. He hadn’t said anything then, stupidly thinking him above it all, watching as you tried to jerk away, but laughing when the boys finally relented with half-hearted apologies.

You always threatened to take their sweets away; you never did, in the end.

But there, then, in that tiny tavern, you’d been thin, your hair dark as an oil spill, loose and inky as it cascades over your shoulders, your eyes lightless as the windows to an abandoned house — the hollowness made all the more visceral by the light he knew once inhabited them. The way loneliness is always more potent when coming back to it, the second time around.

He wanders up to the bar, slates you a glance before rapping his knuckles on the worn wood to catch the bartender’s attention.

“I’ll have beer and a refill of whatever the lady’s having.”

You shift slightly, shoulders hunching towards your ears.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you say, shifting to shield your face from his gaze.

Zoro cocks his head, tossing a few Berry towards the bartender as they set down a stein of beer and a champagne flute to replace the one in front of you.

“Can’t a guy buy a girl a drink?” Zoro asks, rolling his shoulders as he reaches out for his beer. You eye him warily.

“Not for a guy that’s been tracking me for three weeks straight.”

Zoro hums, thumb poised on the hilt of his swords.

“We just happened to be going in the same direction.”

You reach out to run a forefinger along the rim of the thin champagne flute before swirling it once by the base. You watch the bubbles fizzle before leaning in to take a dainty sip.

“And they say chivalry is dead…” you murmur, almost too softly for him to hear. Zoro scoffs, allowing himself a twinge of a smirk before his mouth falls flat.

“You let me track you for three whole weeks.”

There’s no question in his words, only a harsh, accusatory certainty.

You lick your lips, leaning back in your stool, tugging your glass of champagne with you.

“Maybe I wanted the company.”

“Or maybe… you wanted me to follow you here.”

Every muscle in his body is tense, drawn taut as a tightrope, coiled tight as a spring.

You sigh, twisting a single lock of your hair around a finger, examining the ends as if looking for split hairs.

Then, quick as a flash, you’re at each other’s throats — him with a sword poised at your jugular, you with a knife pressed against his stomach.

“One move —” you warn, digging the knife slightly further into his skin. Distinctly, Zoro feels the pressure slice through his thick linen shirt, the cool kiss of the blade against his abdomen. And he’s killed enough by now to know that you’ve picked a major artery — one that would hurt, and take minutes for him bleed out. Just long enough for him to suffer, but not enough to get help.

The edge of his mouth ticks upward — not bad.

It’s then, in the infinitesimal flicker of your eyes meeting his, that he realizes who you are.

He nearly topples back, jerking away slightly with the revelation. Your eyes go wide, jolted by his sudden movement. But he’s quick enough to evade the sharp jab of your knife and a second later, you’re on either ends of the tavern, drawn blades and bared teeth.

“Y-you!” the word rips from Zoro like an unripe scab, thick and hard and still bloody underneath.

You lick your lips, eyes narrowing to slits beneath your long, lanky hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t.”

“Oi! No fighting in the bar!” the barkeep’s voice is gruff and loud, and for a second, Zoro wonders if you’ll listen. The next, the sharp clang of metal on metal stuns him backwards a few steps as you wrest your knives from between two of his katanas, snarling.

“If you’re so much of a gentleman — let’s take this outside.”

“Ladies first,” Zoro spits out as he whips both swords through the air before sheathing them. He makes a show of holding the tavern door for you as you stalk out in front of him, your hackles raised, your knives jutting out from your belt like so many pairs of sharpened claws.

“What do you want?” you ask, as soon as you’re both out of the bar and standing in the moonlit street outside, the wharf to your left, the strip of small, rundown taverns to your right.

The air twangs with the metallic smell of fish and the thick, oppressive sweetness of rotting wood.

“An explanation,” Zoro says, crossing his arms and planting his feet.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

Zoro nods, “Sure. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know.”

You lick your lips, glaring at him for a second longer before turning and marching down the rickety boardwalk. A moment later, Zoro levels himself with you as you round a corner onto a small stretch of beach, pillowed against a backdrop of sharp, unrelenting rocks, the tips bleached white by the round, silver moon.

“There was a beach just like this,” you say, stepping onto the tide-soaked sand, leaning down to pick up a fragment of a broken seashell, washed ashore by an errant wave.

It takes Zoro a second to realize you’re talking about Shimotsuki village, and the tiny little beach on the other side of the dense, cedar wood.

“Yeah. A bunch of us used to play there — see who can throw rocks out the furthest.”

“You were always the best at that,” you say, your voice softer than he’d heard all night.

“Yeah, well…” Zoro shrugs, leaning down to pick up a piece of rock, weighing it in his palm a few times before whipping his arm back to snap it into the gentle, shushing waves. You both watch as the rock skids out over the water before plunking into the sea, “Guess I’ve always been kind of a show-off.”

The sound of your laughter sends summertime sparklers racing up his spine.

The quiet pools between you like spilt blood, rank and dripping.

“So. You go by Ms. Double Nines now, I heard,” Zoro says, in a flagging attempt to be casual as he turns to glance at you, both his hands resting on the hilt of his swords.

You stand next to him, your eyes focused on a point far out on the horizon, still as statue.

“What’s it to you?”

Zoro sighs, looking down. In the pale, cool moonlight, his earrings glint like baring teeth.

“What happened?”

You suck in a breath.

"Life happened,” you say, turning back towards him with a steely glint in your eyes. Zoro stiffens, his grip tightening on his swords as he sizes you up. He does the mental calculations — you’re just far enough for him to defend against an attack, but close enough where if things were to go south entirely, he’d have a hard time getting back to safety.

You grin, seemingly noticing his rough internal calculations.

“Do yourself a favor, Roronoa — and don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to,” you say, flicking out one of your blades and tossing it up into the air, only to catch it around your finger, swinging it round and round, the sharp edge of the blade nicking the air just shy of your cheekbone.

“Who said I didn’t want to know?” Zoro presses, bracing himself for a fight.

You chuckle, the sound harsh and mirthless.

“If you’d wanted to fight me properly, you wouldn’t have waited till I got you onto this stretch of deserted beach.”

“Maybe I just wanted a quiet place to kill you.”

“Or maybe…” your voice is so low Zoro almost doesn’t catch the stomach-wrenching longing in your words, “I just wanted a quiet place to die.”

The sharp shink of blades being drawn is heart-rendingly familiar, but the bone-rattling clash of metal on metal still shakes him to the roots of his teeth. Zoro grunts as he parries a blow from either side, before crossing his swords to catch your assault down the center.

You’re fast, he’ll give you that, your body smaller and quicker. You slip through the shadows with the comfort of a person who knows nothing but and he can’t help wondering at the life you’ve led that had pushed you to this point.

To having a mark on your back, a bounty on your head.

You’re a good fighter — this much, he acknowledges. But good isn’t usually good enough to best him. This much, he also knows. Yet somehow, you’re keeping up, somehow, you’re pushing him back, forcing him to retreat one step and then another. It’s not until you duck beneath one of his pin-wheeling blades and force yourself into a knife’s-breath of his space that he realizes — it isn’t that you’re good, it’s that you’re reckless.

Reckless with your own body in a way that makes him stumble back at the realization. Reckless, in the way you charge forward and thrust your body into spaces where he’d easily be able to slip a blade between your ribs — and later, when he’s wiping his swords clean of your oxidizing blood, he’d wonder why he didn’t.

Still, there’s something terrifying in the way you barely flinch when he knicks your arm, drawing a dark line of blood through your clothes, or how you jerk yourself forward when the tip of his sword catches your stomach, almost as if daring him to impale you in one fell swoop.

“You — you used to be… someone else,” he says, panting as he steadies himself against a sharp jut of moonlit rocks. Behind you, the ocean churns, dark and foaming as it throws itself onto the jagged reefs.

You lick your lips, wiping a smear of blood from your cheek. Your chest heaves with the exertion, but there’s a pale, flickering ache behind your eyes that sets Zoro’s whole body on edge.

He shivers as you grin, savage and unrecognizable as the tiny girl with mochi-round cheeks who had once upon a time offered him sweets in a hand-woven basket.

“Yeah? Well — so did you.”

TAGLIST: @brairslair @msheds0519 @yunabelless @lynndt-chocolate @lostonthrillerbark @stunies @tsumu-senpai @phroggii @ssailormoonnn @breathinginyoursmoke @guridoodles @kyllium @naomihatake @itoshiexx @mythicallystupid @mars-mizuko @astroniii @crispynutella @enhastolemyheart @fanficwriter101 @jamesbparker @dira333 @weirdowithaphone @ink-perfect

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lucysarah-c · 11 days ago

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Mounting Spring Ch.11

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21. Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.)

Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it.

From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another.

Masterlist to the previous parts!

Ao3 link in case you prefer to read there!

‘As long as I can remember…’

She peeked through the crack of the bathroom door, her small fingers curled around the frame. Steam clung to the tiled walls, thick and heavy, but it did little to hide the figure inside.

Her mother lay slumped in the bathtub as if it were a bed. The water had long gone cold.

‘My mother had trouble conceiving another child besides me.’

“Mom?”

The little girl—no older than nine—hesitated before stepping forward. Her mother didn’t stir, her skin pale, hair clinging to her damp forehead. The exhaustion on her face was impossible to miss.

“Mom, are you okay?”

There was a quiet sort of desperation in her voice, a worry too big for a child to carry. Because there’s no fear greater than seeing your mother suffer.

A cold hand reached out, trembling slightly, and cupped her daughter’s cheek. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I’m alright, love.” Her voice was weak but steady. “This will be our lucky time, I’m sure.”

‘Before my twin brothers arrived… I watched my mother lose pregnancy after pregnancy. Sometimes even in the later months’

The memories played in her mind like an old, weathered book, pages worn from being turned too often.

Sitting by her mother’s side, watching as she wept for another child she’d never hold.

Hearing the hushed whispers behind their backs.

"Let’s hope they’re finally blessed with another child."

“An alpha child."

Then came the twins. Identical boys. Strong, healthy, perfect in every way. Alphas.

The apple of their father’s eye.

Y/N was too young to understand all of it, but she saw what no one else seemed to notice—how her mother, after hours of agony, screaming in pain while the doctors rushed around her, finally sat there, pale and drained. But there was something else, too. A quiet relief.

It’s over.

But it wasn’t.

Then came the triplets. Then Mae. More pregnancies in between—some successful, most not. And with each one, Y/N watched the toll it took on her mother. Harder, more painful, more exhausting.

With every child added to the household, her mother seemed to slip further and further away.

At some point, she barely paid attention to any of them.

"Ma—Ma," little Mae babbled, reaching up to her with chubby hands.

Y/N froze, the weight of those two syllables sinking in.

“No, Mae. I’m not Mama,” she whispered. “I’m your sister. Sis.”

"Do what your sister tells you."

It became a household mantra, repeated over and over again.

She learned young—old enough to care for them, but never old enough to have a say.

At family gatherings, the men—mostly alphas—talked about politics.

"Well, I—"

"Sweetie, men are talking. Why don’t you make sure the little ones aren’t breaking anything?"

She watched as her brothers—some barely ten years old—were drawn into the conversation, spoken to as equals.

The women played cards, gossiping about things she wasn’t allowed to listen to.

After all, she wasn’t married yet.

"They just don’t understand. Omegas are… emotional."

That’s what they called her when she accepted Dietrich’s courting.

He had arrived at her home wearing a suit his boss had lent him for the occasion, hands nervously clutching a small gift. A young, freshly promoted MP—not a noble, not a war hero, just a man trying his best.

"You could do much better," they told her, sighing dramatically, rolling their eyes.

But he was kind to her.

And that’s why she chose him.

Maybe it wasn’t ideal to wait a few years until he had enough savings for a proper marriage. Maybe his house wasn’t the grandest estate outside the city.

But with him, she could stay close to her family.

"And with my support, he’ll go far. We’ll grow together. His accomplishments will be mine, too."

—

Dietrich’s voice was urgent, barely a whisper.

"Tell your parents something’s brewing. Here—" He pressed something small into her hands. "If anything happens, they’ll take you in."

Her stomach dropped. "B-But we’re not nobles… the Scouts are after the royals, not us—"

He was already moving, already disappearing into the chaos of his duties.

And then—

Everything happened too fast. Jewelry, money, anything of value was stuffed into clothes, hidden in hair, tucked into pockets.

Then came the pounding on the door.

Everything unraveled at once.

MP sympathizers of the new government seized her father. Her mother screamed, fighting to free him.

"Mom!" Y/N rushed forward, only to be yanked back by a soldier’s iron grip. Pain shot up her arm as she gasped.

"Grab your siblings and get the fuck out if you know what’s good for you."

The cries.

Her siblings’ hysterical wails.

Mae screaming as Y/N tried to shove shoes onto her tiny feet.

"Y/N! THE CAT!"

"I DON’T WANT SHOES!"

"What’s going to happen to Mom?!"

"We need to go with Dad!"

"And Grandma?!"

"QUIET!"

Her voice cut through the hysteria like a blade.

For a single breath, the room fell silent.

"Arthur," Y/N forced herself to stay steady, to be the pillar they needed, "help Grandma walk. Grab her medicine from the nightstand."

She turned to the others, voice firm, unyielding.

"The rest of you—hold hands. Follow me."

Walking in the dead of night with a hand-drawn map to someone else’s house wasn’t in her plans—especially not while she was leading a ragtag band of children, clutching a cat in one arm and supporting a frail, elderly woman in the other. “Y/N, I’m tired,” the youngest whimpered.

Someone once said that omegas weren’t strong, that they were delicate things meant to be sheltered. But Y/N walked on, carrying her sister and the cat, making sure the triplets stayed close.

"We’re alright," her eight-year-old sister reassured the others with unwavering confidence. "Y/N’s got us." Blind faith.

A high-ranking MP took them in quickly, sheltering them from the night. She cut meals into bite-sized pieces for her younger siblings. She wrapped warm clothes around her grandmother’s swollen feet, easing the pain of her diabetes.

Later, as she sat down to rest, the only compliment she received from an old soldier was, “You’ll be a great mother one day.” The gentle pat on her shoulder made her nod slowly as he murmured, “Maybe soon.”

She knew what he meant. He was referring to her engagement to Dietrich, his subordinate.

Later that night, with all seven of them crammed together on the same bed, she pressed a soft kiss to the top of her brother’s head.

"What’s gonna happen to Dad?" Arthur asked.

"They’ll be alright," she reassured him, voice steady despite the uncertainty gnawing at her. "They’ll free Mom soon. Then Dad."

Arthur—who lately had been more annoyance than little brother, as pre-teens often were—held onto her words. Because no matter how much he tried to act grown, he was still just a boy.

And she was still his sister.

—

Now, she sat alone on a bed much smaller than that one.

It should’ve felt peaceful. Instead, unease pressed against her chest, heavy and suffocating. She held the letters her siblings had sent to Levi’s office—letters she wasn’t sure had found their way there, but they were filled with tears and hope.

There was Mae’s messy art, a riot of colorful scratches that barely concealed its underlying chaos. Her little sister, Gretel—one of the triplets—had written a letter on behalf of all three, her neat handwriting standing out among the scribbles:

“We are back at the manor house of the East. The lake is fantastic for swimming this year! I’m learning to paint with pastels, just like you. Arthur is being insufferable.”

Then there was Patrick’s note—always the sensible one living in the shadow of his older twin—“I miss you here. I feel invisible,” among other scattered updates.

But three messages resonated above all else: a chorus of “We miss you,” repeated over and over.

On the back of Mae’s art, her grandmother’s handwriting read simply, “I am an artist, like my sis.” Probably because the little girl didn't know how to write just yet. And then came her own mother’s letter:

“I’m expecting again. Your father and I hope that the next news of a new member will come from you. Make us proud."

She sat frozen, the words echoing in her mind.

If Levi weren’t the clean freak that he was, dust would have gathered on her pinned-up hair with how still she remained. Even breathing felt like a task.

‘How are they going to handle another child?’ The thought twisted bitter in her mouth. ‘Mae is barely looked after as it is… Another baby. The doctor told Mom to stop, said her body couldn’t take another.’

Levi’s words crashed into her thoughts, sharp and unforgiving:

"I need you to grow up."

She stared at her siblings’ letters, at the love and admiration woven into every word.

And yet—

Somehow, time had never moved past that night. The night she sat waiting for news of her father’s release. The night she told herself everything would be alright.

She was still there.

Frozen in delusion.

Everyone else had moved on.

Her throat ached—not from sickness, but from the screams she had swallowed, the tantrums she had never allowed herself to throw.

At the funeral, she sat alone. The casket was sealed, ready to be lowered into the earth, ash waiting to be scattered. She turned to the right. Her family, laughing, already discussing how they would use the fortune they had inherited. She turned to the left.

Levi, muttering under his breath, "I actually always hated Mitras."

She looked straight ahead.

‘I’m the only one mourning her,’ she thought bitterly, attending her own funeral inside her head. ‘I’m sorry that my dreams weren’t noble enough.’. Her mind began to craft a speech—a soliloquy. Levi had asked her once if she read the newspapers, if she understood the real issues happening within the walls.

‘I was never allowed to even think about politics.’

‘I’m sorry I’m not good at anything,’ she thought, remembering the way the cadets had stared when she couldn’t ride a horse.

The way Sasha had lamented the potatoes she had peeled wrong.

The laundry she had washed just yesterday, still stained, no matter how hard she scrubbed.

‘I was never taught anything except how to care for children.’

‘I’m sorry that it’s hard for me to grow up. I’m mourning the only dream I was ever allowed to have."

—

Later that night, in the quiet recesses of Commander’s office after hours, Levi and Hange found themselves sitting down on the main window frame. The memory of Levi’s argument with Y/N still clung to him like a second skin, and the silence between the two soldiers was thick with unspoken regrets and half-remembered frustrations.

Levi broke the stillness, his voice low and rough with remorse. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that,” he muttered, his eyes fixed on the dark liquid swirling in his glass. The bitterness of regret mingled with the tobacco smoke that curled from his cigarette.

Hange leaned back, a pained groan escaping him. “Mh… God, I miss the old times,” they said, their tone wistful as they recalled a simpler era. “When my only worry was convincing Erwin to let me capture a titan, and the only bitching I heard from you was about how shitty the mess hall was.”

A sardonic smile tugged at Levi’s lips. “The mess hall is still fucking shitty,” he replied, a flash of humor breaking through the cloud of melancholy as he flicked away a stray ash.

Hange’s laugh was short and half-amused. “And hearing you complain about your marriage life wasn’t on my bingo card,,” they added, their eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Neither mine,” Levi admitted, taking a long, measured drag from his cigarette before passing it over. “I understand her, but who the fuck understands me? Sometimes her stubbornness gets on my last fucking nerve—I wish I could just force her to listen.”

Hange’s gaze softened with both empathy and playful challenge. “You lost your temper around your omega. That’s what alphas do, right? She must be used to it by now. You know what would force her to obey? An alpha’s glance and bonding.”

Levi scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he shook his head. “Tch, don’t start with you too. I get it—if I were an omega, I’d be fucking tired of being bossed around.”

The commander shrugged as if the issue was too big for them to bother solving—too big to even care about solving. “Seriously, why are you even asking me?” they asked, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. “I’m not married.”

Levi clicked his tongue, raising his glass. “Who the fuck should I ask, then? Nobody I know is married.”

Hange rolled their eyes, a reluctant grin tugging at their mouth. “Uhhh, Nile? He’s married—with three kids.”

Levi grimaced in pure disdain as he knocked back the alcohol. “Ugh. But Nile’s an idiot. Forget it.”

Then, with a conspiratorial glint in his eye, Hange leaned in as if sharing a well-kept secret. “Or… you could do what Erwin did when he and Marie used to fight. He’d close the jars so tight that she’d have to ask for help��son of a bitch, that man knew how to keep things in line.”

Levi’s expression softened into a half-smile, touched by the absurdity of the memory. “...Maybe I understand why they broke up,” He swirled his drink thoughtfully. “He must’ve been a delight of a boyfriend for her to drop a high-breed alpha and settle down with a stupid beta like Nile, whose brain is as thin as his beard.”

Hange shrugged nonchalantly, their tone light yet laced with sympathetic resignation. “Oh well, at least she could leave. Y/N can’t divorce you, so..”

The night air was cool—just enough to take the edge off the heat. Neither of them spoke, but in unintentional synchronicity, they inhaled deeply and exhaled in exhausted unison.

A moment of silence. Glasses emptied. Cigarettes burned to the filter.

Then, Hange leaned forward, their tone shifting from playful to serious. “So, have you told her already?” they asked, their voice low and insistent.

Levi exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting to the rim of his glass. “Not yet,” he admitted, the admission hanging heavy in the stale air.

Hange’s eyes searched Levi’s face as they pressed further. “Lev…” “Lev…” they dragged out his name, hoping the single syllable would knock some sense into him. “The longer you let this run, the harder it’ll be to fix.”

Levi’s hand tightened around his glass as he spoke, the weight of his decision palpable. “I’m planning to take her with me to Mitras—one last weekend with her family and friends. After that, I’ll tell them about the move.” His voice was steady, laced with bitterness. “Tch,”

Hange arched an eyebrow thoughtfully. “Maybe she’d appreciate it more if she knew she’d be leaving this place for at least a year. Give her the chance to say a proper goodbye,”

Levi shook his head. He had already made up his mind. And once his mind was set, there was no changing it. “She should be able to enjoy it without that weight on her.”

Hange sighed dramatically. “Give her some freedom. That would calm her down.”

Levi stood up with a quiet grunt, stretching slightly, ready to leave.

“Or,” Hange offered as if it were an afterthought, “you could just apologize.”

Levi frowned. “I’m not apologizing. I’m right.”

Hange chuckled, shaking their head. “God, you’re so lucky the divorce petition never passed.”

“Tch. Goodnight, four-eyes.”

“It’s three now!”

—

The first morning, she tried to help with kitchen duties but gave up quickly after struggling to light the enormous stove—nearly burning her hair in the process. Connie and Sasha chuckled at the sight.

“I can’t take this,” she muttered under her breath, hearing Mikasa’s reprimanding slap land on the back of Connie’s head, followed by his loud, “HEY!”

‘I know it’s not much. I know I should laugh about it,’ she thought, but she simply couldn’t. It wasn’t about the kitchen duties or waking up early. It was everything else. ‘Am I asking for too much? Just one day without being enclosed, dragged around, or laughed at?’

“Where were you?”

That was the only thing Levi said when she stepped through the door.

‘Are you fucking kidding me? You tell me to get a job, and then wonder where I am?’

Needless to say, the rest of the week passed in silence—not out of comfort, but because neither of them had the energy to deal with the other. It was a cold war. Whoever broke first would be both the loser and the winner in a situation where there were no real wrongs or rights.

‘I’m not asking for much.’

‘You treat me like a child. You enclose me like a child. You boss me around like a child and then get mad when I do something. Sorry that I haven’t done much since I got here—half my time has been spent locked up like a damn prisoner.’

‘I should’ve said that better. That was just me bitching.’

‘I know you’re not a bad person.’

It wasn’t a battle of egos. It was a battle of endurance. Who could take more?

A subtle clearing of the throat broke the silence.

“Y/N. Come here,” Levi called.

Since their last argument, she had gone back to avoiding him—staying shut in the attached room when he was around and only coming out when he was gone. Lately, that had been most of the time. She assumed he was avoiding her, but judging by the dark circles under his eyes, the truth was he had been working extensive hours.

“Yes?” She peeked through the door, her expression wary.

White paper and a pen sat atop his desk. His knuckles tapped against the surface.

“Write to your family and friends. I need to travel to Mitras for an important meeting.”

Her eyes flickered with interest, stepping fully into the room.

“One weekend,” he continued. “I already booked a room at the Military Hotel. Go, hang out, and…”

‘Give her more freedom.’

“…do whatever the fuck you want.” His voice carried a resignation so heavy it was hard to disguise.

“And you?” she asked in disbelief.

“I’ll be at a military board.”

“All weekend?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Important stuff. None of your business,” Levi concluded.

She didn’t press further—not this time. Instead, she stepped forward to pick up the envelopes, only to be stopped by him. He held the hotel reservation on her eye level, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“One weekend,” he said firmly. “You hear me? Just one.”

She knew what he meant: ‘Don’t get your hopes up. We’re not moving. This is a one-time thing.’

But she didn’t withdraw the silent challenge in her eyes. Neither of them was happy. Neither of them had let it go.

Something felt off.

Peering past the chamber’s curtain, she observed how the cadets had spent the week packing boxes instead of training. How the hallways had become more crowded with unfamiliar faces—people moving quickly, rushing, the air thick with an unspoken urgency.

Something was happening.

“Are you all coming?” she asked as they prepared to leave, her voice tinged with suspicion.

The entire squad was gathered out front, ready to depart—far earlier than necessary. To her surprise, despite the mild temperatures, they were back in formal attire: white uniforms, high boots, and long green trench coats.

“Ah, yeah!” Sasha started, but a sharp nudge from Connie cut her off.

“It’s an important meeting,” he finished vaguely.

Y/N smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s fine. You can tell me,” she insisted, mostly because she wanted to feel included in something. Anything.

“State secret,” Eren said with all the determination of someone taking his role way too seriously.

Her resigned smile wasn’t out of understanding but out of quiet depression.

‘I wish… I didn’t feel excluded all the time.’

The only reassurance she had left was that, in a few hours, she’d be surrounded by the girls she grew up with. That, for one fleeting weekend, she’d have something to hold onto—a shared memory, an inside joke, a place where she still belonged.

A loud exhale accompanied their tight embrace. “Y/N! God, it’s so good to see you!” the brunette exclaimed as they pulled apart. “Come in!”

“Oh, Anne!” Y/N cried, moving to hug her friend again. But Katharine gently raised a hand, signaling for restraint, her gaze flickering downward. Y/N followed her eyes and gasped at the barely noticeable bump. “Oh, my goodness, congratulations!”

As the six young women settled around the tea table, a maid entered, gracefully serving each of them. “Thank you,” Y/N murmured as she received her cup.

Two toddlers toddler about, arms raised in silent pleas to be picked up. Two newborns, barely past two months, nestled in their cradles. One pregnant woman. And then—her. The other women sat poised with perfectly styled updos and elegant dresses suited for the occasion. Y/N’s eyes flitted over the scene, noting the difference in attire. Her friends exuded sophistication and maturity, while she still wore the handful of dresses she had brought when she moved—all remnants of her single life almost childish. Their hair was pristine, likely done by a professional or personal maid. And then, there were their hands. Each bore two gleaming bands: a heavy diamond engagement ring and a wedding ring, some adorned with additional jewels. Instinctively, Y/N withdrew her own hands from the table, hiding them in her lap.

But the movement drew more attention than it concealed. “Tell us, Y/N! Did you take the opportunity to get your ring cleaned while in the Capital?”

“Oh, yes!” The lie slipped out effortlessly. The oldest of the six omegas, only a few months senior to Y/N, regarded her with piercing blue eyes, scanning her up and down before offering a measured smile. She was the owner of the house. Y/N’s gaze flickered over their necks, where bite marks proudly declared their claimed status. Some had faded into scars, while others, like Anne’s, were still red and fresh from recent nuptials.

“We’re so glad to have you here,” the hostess continued, the others nodding in agreement. “Are you and the Captain looking for houses in the area?”

Y/N took tiny sips of her tea, attempting to make it last. “Yes… well,” she gave a nervous chuckle, “Yes.”

The second lie.

“It’s complicated,” Sussy chimed in, her voice sympathetic. “The economy has been unstable with all the new laws and changes. The Capital isn’t as safe as it used to be.”

“Yes! John and I just bought a house, and it wasn’t easy!” Anne, the youngest at eighteen, placed a protective hand over her small baby bump.

‘Since when do we discuss politics?’ Y/N mused, surprised by the shift in conversation.

“With so many people moving to Wall Maria now that it’s habitable again, finding good help has been a nightmare,” Anne added. “We had to hire one of those… underground girls.”

Y/N froze, lowering her cup. “What?” She turned sharply to Anne.

Anne merely nodded. “It’s a new policy. The government is offering work opportunities to them, and households get a tax break for hiring from the program.”

“I told you to keep an eye on that woman,” Grace spat, the oldest of the group. “They can’t be trusted.”

“Let’s talk about something less dreadful,” another interjected smoothly. “I’ve already put in a good word for all of us to ensure our children are accepted into the academy.”

A round of polite applause followed. Y/N forced a smile and clapped along.

“I’m telling you, Y/N, the director adores me. I’ll make sure yours gets in, too.”

“Cindy, you’re a miracle!” someone gushed.

But Y/N sat frozen, her smile brittle. ‘Mine?’ Levi’s words echoed in her mind: I hate those posh schools.

“They’ll be classmates!” Grace and Anne clutched hands, excitement in their voices. Both were clearly pregnant again.

“Your bump is so big!”

“The doctor thinks it may be twins. A true blessing,” Anne beamed. “A multiple pregnancy will prove my worth.”

It was common knowledge that high-bred omegas were more likely to bear multiples—a testament to their value. “Congratulations,” Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt detached, as though she were observing from afar.

“It will make John happy. An alpha with children is a happy one,” Grace commented while slicing her treat. “And that means he’ll have a good excuse to spoil you—finally get you a maid worthy of your status.”

“Grace...” Anne sighed, exhausted. Clearly, this was a repeated conversation.

“You heard the priest,” Grace said matter-of-factly. “They are not like us. Their way of living is different. They carry diseases.”

Y/N clenched her jaw but, before she could take a bite of food, she whispered in disbelief, “That’s a horrible thing to say, Grace.”

An unspoken rule dictated that one did not challenge the owner of the house, especially the eldest of the group.

The brunette met her gaze with a cool, assessing look. “It’s the truth. I’d do anything to protect my children,” Grace said, each word a challenge. A pause. Then, deliberately, “If,” she emphasized the word cruelly, “you ever have yours, I’m sure you’ll understand.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. “If?”

Sussy reached over, placing a gentle hand over Y/N’s in silent reassurance.

Grace, unaffected, dabbed at the corners of her mouth with almost clinical precision. “I actually know a great doctor…”

Y/N exhaled sharply. “I was very stressed, Grace,” she bit out, each word laced with controlled fury. “Very.”

Grace raised her hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying. You wasted too much time waiting for Die, and with your mother’s history, it’s best to start sooner rather than later.”

“Let’s change the subject,” Sussy urged.

The rest of the conversation faded into background noise. The words blurred together, a droning hum like cicadas in the training fields. Y/N’s fingers fidgeted in her lap, her mind drifting. Distant. Detached. Delusional. She smiled when required, gave practiced responses. But only once did she lift her eyes from her lap.

“How was the hangout with your friends?”

“Uh?”

The question snapped her out of it. She raised her eyes to meet Levi, who was half-dressed—white uniform pants on, boots, shirt half-buttoned, and a towel around his hair as he scrunched out the water. She frowned in confusion. “Weren’t you working?” she asked, almost sleepy. His presence felt like a supernatural activity—when had he arrived? When had she arrived? Since when had she been sitting back in the hotel room?

He frowned back, looking more concerned than she did. “Yeah, I came to take a shower before the late-night meeting,” he replied. “I just told you so.” He tilted his head toward the open bathroom door, steam still billowing out, his body shifting slightly as if to give her space to check for herself.

“Why?”

“Because this city is fucking hot and humid, and I was tired of feeling all sticky,” Levi muttered, moving around the room as he finished dressing. He buttoned the cuffs of his shirt with practiced ease.

She looked back down at her lap. Her fingers weren’t fidgeting anymore. There was a small, folded piece of paper resting there. ‘I found it under the door, right?’ The thought felt distant, like a memory that wasn’t hers. She unfolded it carefully.

I just want to talk. Tomorrow, 15:00. —Die

And an address.

“So?” Levi pressed.

Quickly folding it back up, she blinked. “Sorry, what?” She glanced up at him.

Hands on his hips, his sharp eyes scrutinized her. “Your friends. How was the hangout?” he repeated. Then, after a beat, “You okay?”

“Good,” she nodded—small, quick movements. “Very good.”

Maybe he should have pressed further. She didn’t seem there, not really. ‘Maybe she’s still mad. Or tired from the trip… or the heat… maybe her blood pressure dropped a little.’ His mind searched for excuses as he accepted her answer, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“Good then,” he finally nodded to himself. ‘She had a good time. That’s what matters’. As if any little moment of enjoyment that weekend would make his own task easier in the long run.

“Tomorrow… your folks?” he checked, making himself a mental schedule of her activities. “Or are you going tonight and staying there?”

‘Tomorrow.’ Her eyes flickered with something, a momentary spark. She swallowed. Then she smiled. “Yes.”

She lied.

Her family wasn’t in the capital. They had moved to the countryside to escape the summer heat.

“Alright then.” Levi pulled on his long green trench coat, which felt like it weighed a hundred pounds in this weather, but mandatory was mandatory. He rummaged in his pocket. “Take a cab, okay? It stays light late, but don’t walk too much.” he said while pulling out a few bills and leaving them on the nightstand. Without waiting for a response, he moved up to her and ruffled her hair a little. “Stay safe.”

In barely more than a whisper, she replied, “Sure.”

Before heading for the door, Levi glanced back at her, as if debating something, then added, “We’re leaving early tomorrow, so be back before 17. Don’t get caught up, alright?”

She only nodded, forcing another small smile.

It was a bad mix, the perfect combination for the worst outcome. Maybe, in a theater, it would be represented by a wailing song that grew faster and faster, the tempo rising until it detonated—slowing, then finally cutting off as the main character reached the peak of insanity. Or perhaps, it would be shown through all the colors quickly withdrawing, leaving everything in a monotone shade of gray, as the feelings stopped working. Until the only one left was the wish to go back in time—to make it all stop.

The hotel was lovely. It was obvious that Levi had never used his rank to secure a stay there because he seemed just as lost as she was upon their arrival. Though, the most confused of all was the receptionist, who could hardly believe he had actually made a reservation. Maybe, under different circumstances, she would have been delighted to be there—the gilded walls, the expensive furniture. The dining room with its individual tables, each set apart like small islands of exclusivity.

“Ma’am,” the waiter bent down as he placed her meal before her. “Enjoy it.”

She managed a bittersweet smile. But he frowned—tears were slipping from her eyes.

There’s something so peculiar about watching someone unable to hold back a cry. A disconsolate cry. No anger, no fear—just plain hurt.

The chef’s carefully prepared dinner, the candlelight, the posh accents in every corner. The MPs in uniform moving in and out, the shadows of women in expensive dresses switching tables to laugh with friends. The camaraderie as soldiers lit cigarettes and chuckled, the older ladies who knew exactly what to order from the bar, the children of important members running around.

Everything that should have given her a sense of belonging—didn’t.

‘If I don’t relate to them,’ she thought, recalling the two separate tea gatherings with different groups of friends, ‘then who do I relate to?’

She lifted her eyes, observing the scene. Every table was filled with company—girls brought to impress, families, soldiers. But the table for two had only her. Her salty tears seasoned her meal as she gripped her fork. She imagined the cadets chatting over the meeting, Levi smoking with Hange, her family gathered by the lake at the estate.

‘The streets are full of strangers.’

There’s a world in between being alone and feeling lonely. And there’s no quieter pain than watching everyone else enjoy life while you stand on the outside, untouched by it.

“Your folks?” Levi’s question echoed in her mind as she hid her face in her hands, muffling her silent cries beneath the lively music of the musicians hired to brighten the night. And a foolish regret surfaced—a wish.

‘I should have told him. I should have said that they refused to travel to meet me. That my friends are strangers now. That it doesn’t have to be Mitras or Sheena, I just want to be close to my family, be there for my mom… that I promise, I swear I promise I’ll try harder. But if he could just stay over for dinner—’

‘I simply… don’t want to feel alone another day.’

—

“Y/N, I’m back.”

Jacket tossed onto the bed, fingers tugging at his cravat, Levi rolled his neck to the side, feeling like he was boiling in his own clothes. But then—silence.

Too much silence.

“Y/N?” He moved through the ridiculously large room, crossing to the bathroom and dressing area, knocking once.

Nothing.

“Oi, brat. You in there?” He knocked again before opening the door. Not even a mouse inside.

A quick glance at his pocket watch. 16:30.

“Fine. Let’s give her some time. I said 17.” He muttered to himself, but whether it was his soldier instincts, his Ackerman blood, or the sharp sense of an alpha, something felt off.

He folded his clothes, put away the papers regarding the upcoming expansion in a secure spot, and even refolded her clothes, despite the fact that she had already done it herself. Made the bed. Re-folded his own clothes.

And before he realized it, he was tapping against the glass front desk of the hotel.

“Have you seen a girl—” he corrected himself quickly, “My wife?”

The receptionist frowned, looking momentarily confused. “She left earlier today, sir.”

“No.” Levi shook his head. “She left last night.”

The girl hesitated, her brows furrowing slightly. “I’m pretty sure she had dinner here at the hotel last night, sir.”

Levi blinked, exhaling sharply through his nose. “So, the whole family came here for dinner?” It was one of the best hotels—he figured that could’ve been the reason.

A brief, unreadable exchange between the two staff members behind the desk.

“Ehm…” she hesitated, making his mouth run dry. “I could ask the kitchen staff if you wish, sir, but I’m fairly certain she had dinner alone last night. And she left a couple of hours ago.”

A cold weight settled in his gut.

“She rented a cart?”

“She left walking, sir.”

It was the calculated calm of someone feeling anything but that.

Running a hand through his dark hair once, then again, he turned on his heel and strode briskly down the corridor, almost knocking into Hange along the way.

“Hey!” they protested.

“Have you seen Y/N?” Levi cut in immediately.

A beat of silence.

“She isn’t with you?”

“No,” he deadpanned. “I’m asking because it’s funny.”

Hange let out a nervous chuckle, but the grin vanished as they took in Levi’s state.

“You’re kidding, right?” No response. “You lost her?”

“I didn’t lose her,” Levi snapped. “I gave her the weekend and told her to be back before 5 p.m.”

“You gave her THE WHOLE WEEKEND?!”

“You told me to give her more freedom.”

“Since when do you take me seriously?!” Hange yelled, as if the very idea was absurd.

—

She gasped each time she glanced over her shoulder. It was broad daylight, the sun beating down on her, making her sweat. Her skin itched from the burn. There was no one chasing her—only her own conscience. She wasn’t checking because she feared being followed. She was checking because she still hadn’t decided whether to turn back or keep going.

Unfolding the paper, she reread the information and double-checked the streets. It’s the right direction.

She wasn’t entirely sure what had pushed her to agree to the meeting. The little lies she told herself were, ‘We’ll just talk, and Levi said I could spend time with my friends, and deep down, Die is my friend.’

There’s nothing more accusatory than an unjustified fear. If there’s no guilt, there should be no fear. But if there’s fear, there’s guilt. And if there’s guilt, then there’s an unbroken vow. Reduced to simple terms, it really is that simple.

For a moment, her worries faded as she walked between the meticulously shaped bushes of an open park. Then, she saw him. Sitting down, waiting.

Her body froze. Her heart fluttered, and despite the heaviness in her chest, a small sense of relief washed over her. The moment their eyes met, she couldn’t stop herself. She rushed forward and embraced him tightly, her arms wrapping around him with a desperation she didn’t expect. He held her back, his arms strong and warm.

She allowed herself to have this. Just this. Being held tightly. They sank into the bench, clinging to each other.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

But she only hummed. Somehow, she couldn’t say the same. Her heart hadn’t particularly missed him—perhaps just the companionship. His large hand stroked her back gently as she buried her face in his chest, and for a second, it felt like everything she had needed. But each breath she took, each inhale that carried his scent instead of Levi’s, made her stomach turn.

“I just want to talk,” she whispered. “It’s been a very difficult few months.”

He buried his face in her neck, their hair tangling together. “Of course.” He ran his hand up and down her back, offering a comfort she didn’t know she needed.

“I—I thought I was mad about all this. The whole arrangement,” she admitted, her voice hollow. She let it all spill out—how difficult it was to adapt, how being far from everyone she knew was consuming her, how lonely she felt spending days on end completely alone. “I thought I was mad that Levi dismissed all my wishes like they were pointless. Everything I thought was important…” She hesitated, referring to her dreams of what a family should be. “But… I’m not sure anymore. The people I used to know—they’ve become horrible.”

His fingers never stopped their soothing motion, but she could feel her own chest tightening. She wiped away a stray tear and added, distressed, “Or… maybe they always were, and I just never noticed.”

Doubt crept into everything. Was the sky blue? Was the grass green? She wasn’t sure anymore. What was her role in all this? She only knew one thing.

“I just wish I didn’t feel so alone,” she confessed softly, her voice muffled against him.

The life of a scout—and, in particular, their partners—could be incredibly lonely. It wasn’t for everyone. In their tight embrace, she sought support. Someone to confide in, just as Levi did with Hange.

Dietrich didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pulled her closer, his body warm and protective around her. They stayed like that for a while, their heads resting against each other’s necks. She could feel his breath on her skin, and he seemed to inhale deeply, as if trying to take in more of her.

Then, as if the weight of the moment had shifted, he finally spoke, his voice low and serious.

“Come with me,” he said, his words heavy with meaning. “Leave him. Leave Levi behind. Without his claim, we can start over—somewhere else. You and me.”

Her heart lurched. She pulled away slightly, just enough to look at him. His words hung in the air between them, and a chill ran down her spine.

“Wait…” she murmured, her brow furrowing. “What are you saying?”

Dietrich’s gaze was intense. His fingers traced her wrist, his grip gentle—almost soothing.

“You deserve this, Y/N. Your family has to manage on their own. You deserve happiness.”

His words confused her. Running away didn’t align with any of her worries. If anything, it was the opposite of what she wanted. She’d never be able to see her family again. Her sister would suffer social scrutiny. She’d be forced into hiding somewhere unfamiliar, uprooting her children into a life of shame.

She frowned. Unlike Levi, who had claimed that sacrificing for family was noble but should have been her father’s burden, Dietrich was asking her to throw everything away—for him. It was selfish. It was nothing like what she stood for.

“What are you talking about?”

Her pulse quickened, her mind racing. The weight of it all threatened to suffocate her. She pulled her hand back slightly, her heart pounding in her chest.

“I… I can’t,” she stammered, her voice unsteady. “I—I have my sisters. I can’t just leave them.”

Suddenly, his warmth didn’t feel soothing anymore. His touch felt repulsive. Sticky. She tried to slip her hand away, attempting to break the contact—to set a boundary.

A sharp gasp escaped her as his grip tightened around her arm.

“Die?” she whispered, hating how quickly fear crept into her voice.

“Come on, Y/N. Come to your senses,” he growled, his tone shifting—hardening. “After everything I’ve done for you… Are you really just going to leave me like this? Who do you think you are?”

He’s kind, her own voice echoed in her mind.

Was he kind… or had I just always done what he wanted?

Like a church’s stained glass, its beauty was lost once shattered—leaving behind only sharp, dangerous pieces.

“You’re hurting me,” Y/N whispered, trying to stand. His grip didn’t loosen. “Dietrich. You’re hurting me,” she repeated, louder this time.

“I’ve been chasing you since day one. Always offering my help. You came all the way here, and now you want to leave?” he hissed, his hold tightening, his voice low and threatening.

“You said you just wanted to talk.”

The letters. The visits to her balcony. Knowing her hotel room. Without the rose-colored innocence that had once tinted their past, it all felt alarming. And as people around them turned to watch—parents ushering their children away from the growing argument—her instincts took over. The words came naturally, so naturally they even surprised her.

“I’ll tell Levi.”

The moment she said it, she realized something. Despite everything—the arguments, the fights, the silent treatments—she wished he were here. At dinner. At this moment.

But for Dietrich, the shock was different.

She squeaked in surprise as he grabbed her other arm, his hold firm.

“Really? You trust him? After all the years we’ve known each other?”

“I don’t recognize you,” she murmured.

“Hey. Let her go.”

The voice was sharp, commanding.

Y/N barely had time to process it before Dietrich’s grip loosened. A woman stood a few steps away, arms crossed over her chest. She was tall, her posture unwavering, her gaze locked onto him with unflinching authority. An alpha.

Dietrich hesitated, as if weighing his options, but she took a step closer.

“I said, let her go,” she repeated, her voice like steel. She was slightly shorter than him, but clearly tall for a woman. Her fierce not backdown eyes and deep exhales through the nose left a clear sign. ‘Back up or we beat each other up, here and now,’

Families nearby were already watching. A few mothers were shielding their children, sensing the tension. If he didn’t let go, this would turn into a real scene.

His fingers twitched before he finally released Y/N’s arm.

She stumbled back, instinctively cradling the spot where his grip had been. The bruises would bloom later, but right now, she just needed to get away.

The woman turned to her. “You okay, sweetie?”

Y/N nodded quickly, though her hands trembled. The woman’s sharp gaze flickered back to Dietrich.

“Walk away,” she told him flatly. It wasn’t a suggestion.

For a moment, he looked like he might argue. Then he scoffed, eyes dark with something unreadable, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the park.

Only when he was gone did Y/N finally let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Come on,” the woman said, her voice gentler now. “You live close by?”

Y/N hesitated. She hadn’t even thought that far ahead—hadn’t thought beyond running. But now that the moment was settling, the weight of what had just happened crashed over her. She felt raw, exposed. And suddenly, the idea of walking back alone, through unfamiliar streets, felt unbearable.

So she nodded.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“We stick together, right?” the alpha girl said with a bright, reassuring smile—probably because friendships between female alphas and omegas had always been straightforward.

—

“Hello, I’m —”

“Miss!” the rush on the receptionist voice exalted her. “Your husband has been searching for you,” there was no scolding in her tone, just a statement of fact. “Do you need me to call him?”

Y/N shook her head quickly. “No. I—I’ll go up now.”

The receptionist studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, dear. If you need anything, let us know.”

Y/N barely mumbled a thanks before turning toward the stairs. Each step felt heavier than the last.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached her door, pressing her palm against the wood for just a second before slowly pushing it open.

Inside, the room was in a flurry of movement. Levi was buttoning up his uniform jacket, his belt only halfway fastened as he moved with sharp, efficient motions. Putting his soldier uniform back on for reasons that she didn’t know. Across from him, Hange was talking rapidly, tying back their hair. Papers were scattered over the small table, and the air was thick with tension.

Levi’s head snapped up the second she stepped inside.

The moment their eyes met, she saw it—the way his whole body went rigid, like a wire pulled too tight. His expression darkened, but before she could react, he was already moving.

She flinched.

It was instinctive, her body recoiling before she could stop it. Levi didn’t notice it, or else he would have wondered why she reacted that way. The last thing he expected was for her to think he could ever harm her physically. But he was too focused on bigger tasks. His hands reached for her—one gripping the back of her head. And then, with a force that almost made her knees buckle, he pulled her in and pressed his lips firmly against her forehead.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was tight, almost desperate.

His breath was warm against her skin. His grip unwavering.

Then, against her forehead, he muttered, “Where the hell have you been?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Levi exhaled sharply, relief mixed with frustration. His eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted, and his fingers tightened in her hair. “Where the hell have you been?” he repeated, exhausted.

Behind him, Hange slumped into an armchair, throwing their head back with a loud exhale of relief.

Pressed against each other, their breaths mingled—inhale, exhale. She had feared the worst, and Levi… Levi buried his nose in her hair, waiting for the familiar warmth of her scent to soothe his racing mind. But—his nostrils twitched. His brow furrowed. His eyes blinked slowly as the realization sank in.

‘That’s not her smell.’

His instincts bristled. ‘Neither mine.’

Every one of his alpha alarms went off.

Levi pulled back just enough to see her face. His sharp gaze swept over her, scanning her, reading her like a battlefield. Then—his nostrils flared. His expression shifted instantly.

His eyes dropped.

They landed on her arm.

Bruises. Dark imprints of fingers already forming against her skin.

Levi’s face darkened. His entire body tensed. His fingers twitched against her shoulder, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low. Too controlled.

“Who did that to you?”

His tone sent a shiver down her spine.

Y/N swallowed hard. “I…” She hesitated as the sharp sting of his anger thickened in the air, suffocating, consuming. Her pulse quickened. “Sorry.”

Levi’s jaw ticked. “I didn’t ask if you were sorry. I asked who did it.” His words came through gritted teeth, his glare locked onto her, unwavering, demanding.

“I… I didn’t know him like this,” she murmured, her voice faltering. Levi’s scent filled the room, thick and overwhelming, making her wrinkle her nose.

A loud pat landed on both their shoulders, abruptly cutting through the tension—like a cat strolling between two hissing rivals.

“What MATTERS,” Hange emphasized, shooting a look at the Captain, “is that she’s okay, and we can leave.” They forced a smile at the girl, ruffling her hair before pressing a quick kiss to her head. But the sharp scoff through their nose gave away what they weren’t saying aloud—the scent clinging to her wasn’t the one they expected.

“I take it back—you stink less,” they muttered to Levi, hoping to lighten the mood.

But the cold, steel-eyed glare of the Ackerman told them his fury was far from over.

“Calm down,” Hange murmured under their breath. “You’ll regret it.”

But it was a well-known fact—there were three things you simply didn’t mess with when it came to an alpha.

Never imply someone has it bigger than them.

Never suggest a woman in their inner circle is unworthy.

And above all—never mess with their territory.

Alphas were territorial, jealous creatures. They could even be envious of a damn pillow if their omega clung to it too much in their sleep. Those soft, fragile little things could get away with anything—because they were their soft, fragile little things. And some bastard had dared to rub his stink all over his.

Levi’s teeth ground together so hard it hurt.

‘Why don’t you come and piss on my face while you’re at it?’

He was seeing red.

"If I were mad, you’d know," Levi had told her in the early days of their arrangement. On the way back to the Scouts, she had confirmed that.

“Lev...” She reached for him once they were back in his chambers—away from the prying eyes of the cadets, all eager to uncover what had happened. “Can we talk?”

But he seemed so distant.

“I have work to do.”

‘Well... now I know,’ she thought, picking up the cat that had eagerly greeted her. Her body felt drained, as if every last bit of energy had been siphoned from her.

“This simply can’t get worse,” she murmured. She tried her best to do a tea and wait. Once again, back at the office. Alone.

—

The pressure that his fingers applied to the bridge of his nose was so strong that the pain of it overcame the migraine. Strong footsteps echoed in the corridors as cadets moved aside to make way. Since the Scouts were almost wiped out, more and more people had been joining their ranks, and Levi was not enjoying the crowded halls.

"The day I decide to call all this shit off, I'd like to see them surviving without me," Levi thought, clenching his teeth. The stress was taking a toll on him lately and with had just happened, it wasn’t helping to work with a clear mind. The military was expanding so much, particularly the Scouts, and they simply lacked soldiers in higher positions to handle everything from mundane tasks like organizing lines to making highly important decisions regarding the Marley issue.

Swinging the door of his chambers open, his eyes fell on her. She was looking out of the window, book in hand and cat on lap, dying of boredom as if she were either waiting for rescue or for her death. His grimace was a mix of empathy and annoyance. The sting of betray hasn’t wash out.

And the horrendous weekend he was having, having to listen to all of Zeke’s demands from the other side of the damn world, was simply not helping. Slamming the door shut made her turn and look at him. “Levi. I made te—” She was eager to try to fix things up thought she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to fix. There’s not fixing something that didn’t exist.

"Pack your stuff, we're moving," he spat out, already moving to his room to gather the few belongings he actually had. He threw the black trousers of his uniform out of the drawers onto the bed to pack them, regretting the decision as soon as he saw his immaculate, perfectly washed trousers covered in cat hair.

"Moving? Moving where?" Y/N jumped from her place at the window and followed him, excited. Her eyes shone brightly, feeling her prayers had been answered.

Eyes shut as tight as his clenched teeth, he took a deep breath in and out. He was fond of animals, and the white cat was lovely, but the fur was something he wasn’t getting used to easily, and it just added to his day.

"Where are we moving?" she insisted, not sensing his lack of patience. "Back to Mitras?"

Levi, trying to find any remaining good mood inside him, turned to his side and raised an eyebrow. "No," he said, "To the south."

The excitement dropped substantially, and she frowned at him. "We ARE in the south."

That made Levi quickly realize this was not going to be a quick and easy conversation. "No, we are in Wall Rose.". Suddenly the whole reason for taking her to the hotel, the weekend off and all the rest that unfolded made a reason. As if he had forgotten why he went to the kitchen in the first place. He thought he would have more time, but the order had been passed down as they travelled back to the scouts facility. Early Monday, it was official. The coastal expansion was on.

"I'm not moving to Shiganshina," she said, arms crossed, eyebrows drawn together, and her voice raising.

Levi sighed as he folded one uniform. "Lucky for you," he said, each word dripping with his remaining patience, "we're not going there."

"Then… where?"

Levi knew he should have delivered the news more gently, but he had no time to spare and no energy left to deal with her lately. "South, we're setting up a camp next to the coast. Construction has already taken place, so we'll have a room. Pack your stuff; we're leaving by horse to arrive sooner and organize everything. The luggage will be taken by carts that will probably take a week to reach."

"What?—NO!" she quickly complained, her voice filled more with tears than anger. "I don't want to go to the end of the shitty world!"

"The soldiers from Marley are already arriving, and we need to be there to make sure everything evolves as planned—"

"Aren't you listening to me?!" She screamed loudly enough for Levi to close his eyes at how it reverberated in his ears, only fueling his headache. "I'm NOT moving there. We will be in the middle of nowhere; there’s no communication with the walls. I want to be closer to family, not there."

She had felt isolated inside the walls. She couldn’t imagine living in a remote camp with no communication or way to travel around.

The air began to fill with her scent, demanding she wasn’t submitting. Challenging him, and Levi felt how each breath he took through his nose was tinged with it. He had no good temper left, and her insistence on asserting dominance was the final straw. Her even daring to assert dominance over him. Her, the omega the government had saddled him with.

Turning to his right, his piercing eyes locked onto her. "Don’t," Levi ordered, his own pheromones mixing with hers and warning her. The stare of a high-breed alpha, his own body warning her that fighting with him was a bad idea. Maybe it was because he had been hearing demands from Marley soldiers and allies all day long, people challenging his authority. But Levi wasn’t going to allow an omega to step on his dominance. He had been, in his opinion, more than good and patient with her—probably more than any other alpha would have been. He wasn’t one to use his stare to force omegas to do what he wanted, but he was having none of it.

Lips trembling, fists clenching, deep frown, and her eyes struggling to keep eye contact. Fighting against her own biology, she could feel how each fiber of her body trembled in trying to maintain the resistance. Eventually, she couldn’t keep it up and looked to the side, breaking the stare and lowering her head in submission.

A long sigh left his nose as his demand withdrew once she ceased the claim. “Pack your stuff,” he ordered, lowering his voice sensing that the rebellion was over.

But it hardly was. “I’m not going. I’ll move in with my parents. I’m not going to some rotten, muddy camp in the middle of nowhere.”

Levi shook his head. “You’re coming because that’s the arrangement between your parents and the military board. So pack, and that's the end of the deal.”

“No! I don’t want to go, I’m not going to pack!”

“NO!”

Her complaints echoed in his head as the headache pounded against his skull, his teeth clenching so hard he was even showing them. “ENOUGH!” His hand slammed against the drawer, the loudness of it ceasing all noise. The room fell silent, and the scared cat ran to hide under the bed.

Levi finally turned to fully face her. “We are going to do this whether you like it or not,” his voice harsh and leaving no room for interruptions. “It can be the easy way or the hard way.”

Raising his hand in the air, showing three fingers. “I have a meeting, and in three hours I’ll come back and pick you up. Either you pack and get ready for when I return, or you don’t pack and not only will you be in a shitty, muddy camp at the end of the world stuck with me, but you’ll do it without any of your fancy stuff. And I warn you, there are no stores there.”

As he left the room with the same urgency he came in, he said, “You choose!”

But as the door was slamming shut, a cadet interrupted him. “Ehm… Captain?” The tremble in the kid’s voice indicated he sensed the environment was not conducive to another demand. “Commander Hange needs a signature?”

“Fuck off!”

I must admit. I cried like a baby writing the dinner scene. I'm a sensible soul. If nobody felt bad this chapter, its ok… I'll just throw myself from the top of the walls lol. Here! A joke to break the angst: "So… we lost another mom?" Armin asked as they were forced to wait for their higher ups. "Another?" Jean asked confused. "First time?" Eren asked back. I PROMISE. That next chapter their will be COMMUNICATION and fluff. I PROMISE.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

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fullfriendnerdclutch · 8 months ago

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Artie grinned mischievously as his friends profile started to appear one by one. The app linked to the saved contacts in his phone and somehow they managed to extract a fairly accurate profile of Artie's friends, resulting in a couple avatars that Artie can choose and tweak to his likings. The app, called Chronivac, not only changed Artie's physique to look like a 30+ years old hairy muscle hunk, it also molded the reality in accordance to the final prompt Artie typed in, turning the 20 years old college dropout into a bonafide hunk living life lavishly from workout courses and OF, and he's about to spice things up in the life of his dear friends.

He started from Randall.

He started very methodically as he put Randy as the new name. Then, when the profile options opened, he started his work. Get rid of the glasses. Get rid of that acne scar and blackspot. Retain the face but make the jaw angular. Styling the hair so it's no longer greasy and moppy. Face done, now the body

Randall is quite a perv and his biggest turn-on is big titties, but well, most untouched virgin are perv anyway so maybe he should make Randy turned on with himself by giving him this large pair of muscle tits? Lol, that's hilarious, he thought to himself. Humh.....so maybe keep Randy as a 255 lbs fuckers? Well, turn all the fat into muscle and click "Optimize" because he can't be bothered to perfect Randy's muscle distribution.....hot damn that's one massive unit! Finalize the whole change with the short prompt

"Randy is a gym junkie and absolute freak of nature. He's probably the biggest 20 years old in the entire Americas. He's one of my mentee and he looked up to me as his inspiration, he even will not hesitate to take my cock if I instruct him to do so to get bigger, quite the dumb oaf he is,"

Click Save and then Process. Several seconds later, a transformed Randy appeared in the room that Artie booked for this holiday. Randy appeared to be sleeping while he got altered earlier, Artie just realized it's night time in the States so no wonder Randy is asleep. He will check him out later as he still have several more profile to go

Andy. Oh, yeah, the profile arrangement is based on surnames. Coleman, Randall. Garcia, Andy. Andy is Artie's bestfriend from childhood so Artie knows very well what Andy really wanted to look like.

Keep the name and lineage. A little tweak in his testosterone to boost that facial hair growth and make that balls pumped full faster with mini Garcias. Andy admired his hotter, older brother, Juan, so badass and clearly a true symbolism of what Latin American community deemed as macho, so Randall ensured that whatever feature Juan possessed, Andy is going to make that even better. Thicker hair, more defined abs, bigger biceps, bigger triceps, rounder delts, voice that trembles anyone that hear it, obviously bigger uncut piece of meat, more tattoos, all lodged in as part of the new Andy's persona. The avatar is looking quite a looker already so Artie just added a bit of simple prompt, click the Save button and then Process the changes. Andy suddenly appeared in the day bed next to Artie, still sleeping soundly and Artie just smirked as he continued his work

He tweaked Ollie's profile right after, making the pale and lanky 6'5" Norwegian-Lebanese former ballet dancer to be closer to his Lebanese roots as he shrunk him to a 6'1" muscle daddy. Ollie, or Olaf, quickly turned into Ali, and just like Andy, appeared in the same resort where Artie stayed

Michael is supposedly next on the list, but James is already quite distracting for Artie so he decided to work on James first. He's really not that close to James and to be honest, if it's not because James is Andy's college roommate, Artie probably would have 0 interest to befriend him. He might be clouded with jealousy because Andy seemingly enjoyed James company, and even worse, a little crush on him, but well, with a reality-changing app in the palm of his hands, why should he accept things as it is when he can change it? So, rather than focusing on the physical aspect, Artie simply turned his focus to James mental part. He smirked devilishly as he turned the pretty-much straight James into a horny, lustful bottom. Artie practically emasculated James and he felt zero remorse whatsoever as he then added to the prompt that James tagged along to this trip as he's a clingy cum dump that Michael fucked once in the seedy bar that he and Andy frequented. Yup, that's the plot of his change to the innocent Michael.

Artie quickly tweaked Michael profile, the smallest and shiest one in the friend group is now the horny beast who needs to fuck a hole in daily basis. Artie based all of them in the same city, the same apartment building even and then created this whole backstory of their ascendancy to the top of OF and independent adult industry in Michael's prompt space. When he clicked Process, the sound of James moaning in delight echoed all the way to the swimming pool, Michael is basically fucking the shit out of James

The noise also managed to wake Andy's up. Despite seemingly confused at first, Andy quickly find his senses and instead of freaking out or reacted in surprise, he seems to be very much comfortable and at home. Artie sighed with relief, thrilled that his little handiwork resulted nicely.

It seems like that Andy is totally not aware that his life has been dramatically altered by his own best friend that just whipped out his cock from the swimming shorts he's wearing. With a grin while his right hand started pumping his meaty cock and the phone flipped and locked in the table, Artie said

"Care to help a friend here? We can drench Ali to wake the fucker's up when we are close,"

#chronivac tf #chronivac #reality change #male muscle growth #personality change #male transformation #nerd to jock #fat to fit

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kinopio-writes · 10 months ago

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HH Characters x Physically Affectionate!Reader (Pt.2)

A/N: The last part. Enjoy, lol.

Bonus character: Zestial!

Warnings: Mention of sex on Adam’s and Vox’s part, but nothing explicit

———

Sir Pentious

• he’s not used to it and is uncomfortable with it (he makes a weird face every time you touch him)

• he’ll be fine after you two become close, though

• but don’t try to overdo it

• if he likes you romantically, however, he blushes crazy every time you touch him

• he doesn’t really have a favorite one

• he turns red no matter what

• and his love language (receiving end) is more about words of affirmation, anyway

———

Lucifer Morningstar

• if you’re together with Lucifer, he’s likely smitten with you, so he becomes really giddy whenever you give him affection

• he probably starts stimming (doing little kicks or squealing)

• this guy loves to be held a lot

• oh, but he loves it when you nuzzle into him

• his favorite is forehead touching

• it’s really tender and he melts at that type of affection

———

Adam

• usually, every time you touch him, he’ll think that you want to get down in the sheets with it

• so he’s confused whenever you don’t escalate any further than a kiss

• he does that thing where even when you pull away, he’s still leaning toward you, eyes fluttering

• he’ll probably get used to it

• his favorite is when you just cling to him

• if you’re not short enough to do that, he loves it when you just put your head on top of his while you two are curling up on the couch (he finds it cute)

• he also loves getting massages from you

———

Lute

• she’s not affectionate in general nor is she a fan of it

• so if she’s not that close to you, you better back the fuck up ’cause she’s going to take that as a genuine attack

• it’s worse if you do it out of nowhere (seriously, you will end up with a broken arm)

• but, if you two are sort of close and she’s used to your affections, she’s aloof to it all

• she will even start to initiate them herself unknowingly

• it’s because she mirrors the people she likes, which is not a lot, lol (everyone does this—I think—but Lute’s just more noticeable)

• back rubs are her favorite (not full-on massages, though, just a little rub after she gets done working out or something)

• she might like head pats, too (she feels praised whenever you do it. This works exceptionally well if you’re taller than her)

———

Vox

• he’s not that physically affectionate

• unless it’s sexual

• he’d be pretty weirded out if you just wanted to hold hands or something

• but after he gets used to it, he becomes nonchalant about it

• he’ll start grabbing your hand on his own accord (it becomes instinctive)

• he’s fine with PDA, but don’t try to be all lovey-dovey when he’s in conversation or dealing with someone else

• his favorite is when you two are just snuggled up on the couch doing your own separate thing

———

Zestial

• I added him in because I wanted it to be even

• anyway, he’s more hand-kissing and linking arms type of gentleman

• and the most he’ll do in public is link arms

• he thinks displays of affection should be private

• even then, he’s not that physically affectionate

• he doesn’t have a favorite, but considering that he’s cold-blooded, he quite likes it when you snuggle onto him and make him warm (this only works well if you’re just as tall as him, lol)

———

A/N: The next three requests I’m going to post at a much later date will probably suck ass. Sorry to the ones who send those in. And for making you wait a long time as well. If they even remember…

My favorite ones to write from the two posts were…mostly everyone! These were so fun to write. I sort of had a writer panic midway, but it was still fun. It’s probably because I used too many parentheses and it bothered me or something.

#hazbin hotel x reader #sir pentious x reader #lucifer x reader #adam x reader #lute x reader #vox x reader #zestial x reader #hazbin hotel sir pentious #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel zestial #kinopiowrites

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sombrashe · 23 days ago

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viral twitter selfie reader x rapper thanos part 3

part 1 ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ part 2 ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ masterlist

what if it's ass? just because a lot of people downloaded it doesn't mean it's good. this better not be a scam link.

clicking on the link it opens your spotify and immediately starts off with the first song. he sounds nice actually and you lose time as you finish the EP. adding the EP to your collection of playlists you go through the songs again, listening to the first few seconds, before adding a few to your liked songs. turning over in bed you chew on your nail as you tap back over to twitter, your thumb pressing open your dms without a second thought.

Monday

vintagezodiacsign whered you get the name from? for the ep, beautiful flower

ThanosWorld I saw a beautiful flower. ¯\_( ․ ⤙ ․) _/¯

vintagezodiacsign like a rose or a person

ThanosWorld Person

vintagezodiacsign ohhh i love 20 questions

ThanosWorld 20 questions?

vintagezodiacsign yeah like the game

vintagezodiacsign i was just making a joke 😁

ThanosWorld I see.

you place your phone screen down and take a moment to simply stare forward in blooming embarrassment. you decide to distract yourself by starting dinner. chopping an onion, throwing some garlic in a pan, cooking chicken and you're finishing the dish with some chopped green onions on top. smiling you grab your phone to snap a few photos. you've completely forgotten about your interaction so imagine the look on your face when you see that small blue number 1 in the bottom right corner. taking a moment you upload a few cropped photos of your dinner. setting yourself up on the counter you start munching as you open up your dm's.

ThanosWorld Sorry, I was recording. I write the songs after a fun night out. I didn't name the album until I saw your pic.

3:26 pm

vintagezodiacsign don't apologize 😁👍 sounds fun making another ep ? wow already calling me beautiful at least take me out to dinner first lol

ThanosWorld Yes, I am. Working hard 🫰🏼

ThanosWorld I will take you out to dinner when we meet. I know this nice restaurant down near a dope club we can go to

vintagezodiacsign cute if we ever meet that sounds like fun

ThanosWorld Wanna see something cool?

vintagezodiacsign yuh

ThanosWorld

vintagezodiacsign ohhhhhhh that looks like fun ugh 😩

ThanosWorld I'll send you something hold on

ThanosWorld ► •||·||||-|-|||||||| 0:59

vintagezodiacsign damn dude you sound great

vintagezodiacsign i can tell you sound saur good irl

ThanosWorld You'll have to tell me when we meet 😁😉

vintagezodiacsign you're cute smh

ThanosWorld You really think so (っ´ω`c)

vintagezodiacsign oh hold on i have a customer

ThanosWorld You're at work?

4:14 pm

vintagezodiacsign sorry yeah im back ive been at work sonce noon

4:52 pm

ThanosWorld What do you do?

vintagezodiacsign pinky promise not to tell anyone?

ThanosWorld pinky promise

⠀⠀⠀⢠⠖⡆⢀⣴⠉⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⡰⠲⡀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⣇⡷⠋⠀⡜⢱⠀⢀⣤⣀⣠⡀⠀⢀⣞⡁⠙⢆⠀⡇⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀

⠀⡰⠁⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠐⠁⡜⢳⠸⡄⢸⠀⡇⢠⠾⢄⣈⠙⡌⢣⢱⠀⠘⣄⠀⠀

⢰⠁⠐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠃⡏⣀⠟⠁⣰⠣⣧⠦⢤⡈⢣⡹⡚⠻⡀⠀⠘⡄⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠋⠀⣠⠞⢣⡀⠈⠃⠀⡹⢄⡷⢃⠀⠧⠀⠀⢣⠀

⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠑⣖⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀

⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠂⠀⠀⠀⡇

⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

vintagezodiacsign okay okay i work at a local store 😔 i'm an assistant manager

ThanosWorld Dope, dope. Do you like it?

vintagezodiacsign yeah its cool or whatever

vintagezodiacsign im not gonna talk bad about my job but i def would much rather be living your life lol

ThanosWorld It's not that nice. I promise

vintagezodiacsign well the money is nice at least

ThanosWorld That I will agree with [̲̅$̲̅(̲̅∞)̲̅$̲̅]

vintagezodiacsign [̲̅$̲̅(̲̅∞)̲̅$̲̅]

ThanosWorld When do you get off work?

vintagezodiacsign 8 pm :3 but probably later

ThanosWorld Why

vintagezodiacsign because sometimes my relief doesn't show up on time 😖 then im here an extra twenty minutes

ThanosWorld You don't deserve to wilt like that

vintagezodiacsign okay shakespeare i need to get back to work or else everyone is gonna start asking questions lol

ThanosWorld Get home safe 🫰🏼

vintagezodiacsign ttyl ✌🏻

#squid game #squid game x reader #thanos #thanos x reader #player 230 #choi su bong #choi su bong x reader #thanos writes

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stinkysam · 2 months ago

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Choi Subong “Thanos” - Two hearts.

Warning : drugs

Genre : fluff / angst ?

Synopsis : one sided love

Reader : male (he/yours)

A/N : bold is in English // I guess my requests are open for more Thanos x male reader // idk if it’s good so…*toss and run* // Pt.2 ONE HEART

Thanos is used to being rejected, he flirts around a lot and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. He isn’t bothered by it and moves on fast if he manages to ditch the person.

But lately things had been a bit different as he took a liking in you, a guy who he used to go to school with.

You had lost each other after he left school while you continued with your studies and as you saw him on your TV screen a few years later in a rap contest you recognized him immediately. So you sent him a message, hoping he hadn’t deleted your number since the last time you spoke.

[Name]>“Dude ! Purple hair ?��

[Subong]>“🤙🏻 yea”

[Subong]>“Holy shit [Name] how do you know ???”

[Name]>“You were on TV ? Duh”

[Name]>“Do you have more where I can listen ?

[Name]>“What was your stage name again ? Thanos ?”

[Subong]>“Yeah yeah yeah !!!”

[Subong]>“That’s me ! [link] here’s all my music, bro”

[Subong]>“So you liked my rap ?”

[Name]>“It was 🗣️fine as fuck ‼️🗣️”

[Subong]>“I fucking know !!!”

And since that exchange, you two had talked more and even hung out, soon seeing each other every day. So it was inevitable, getting feelings for you, really.

You hadn’t changed much since your school days, you supported him, always messaging him each time he appeared on TV. You liked to spend time with him and laugh with him, both watching MG coin’s videos though you preferred to stay away from crypto money. He found you handsome, especially when you imitated his rap, trying to have a deeper voice like him.

But as a rising rapper, Thanos knew there were limits not to cross, though he liked to play with them for the rap show. But after losing in said show, he thought ‘what the hell’ and decided to ask you out anyway.

So when you told him you preferred staying friends instead, he was a bit taken aback, not expecting this answer.

“Friends ?” He looked around, thinking, before looking back at you with a smile. “Sure.” He could just ditch you to move on, losing you before you could become too important.

Except he didn’t.

Maybe you were already more important than what he had imagined.

And also because you were… stubborn.

[Name]> “Dear T, I said you 🫵 were my friend, so you 🫵 are gonna stay my friend. Not ❌ a stranger that don’t wave 👋 at me when we see each other in the streets 😡🙅‍♂️ I know where you live 📍🏠 Do not ❌ block me.” You had sent him after parting ways.

He instantly turned around to see if you were still here before replying to your text.

[Subong]>“How did you know I was gonna ditch you ?”

[Name]>“Bruh I know your ass 🖕 you’ve always done that to girls at school lol”

[Subong]>“Bro 💘 that’s why I love you 💕🫶🏻🍆”

[Name]>“😘 or whatever.”

So instead of leaving you alone, he’s by your side, making a couple bars about you, making you laugh because it’s either corny or pretty smart but most of the time it’s corny.

He doesn’t care that you don’t see him the same way he sees you, maybe if he tries hard enough it will work.

And while waiting for it, he gets to hear your pretty laugh.

Since he was on TV and did a few concerts, Thanos gained a fanbase, which meant people could recognize him in the streets.

And each time they asked for a selfie with him, Thanos asked you to join them.

“No way.” You replied, amused.

“Come on !” He held his hand out, making signs for you to get in the frame. “It’s fucking hilarious !” He added, losing patience.

“No. Take the damn photo and let the poor boy go, T.”

Thanos groaned before grabbing you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to make sure you stay close and then posed.

“Take it, take the photo.”

“Yes.” The fan replied, quickly taking the picture of you three with you making the most awkward smile you could muster.

Later, at his place Thanos found the picture as he was identified on it on instagram.

“Look ! It’s hilarious. Your face is so cute !” He squeezed your cheeks before leaving a like on the photo. You stared at him confused, cute ?

“He didn’t even tag you ! It’s so funny, admit it !”

“Why would he tag me ? I’m just some random guy to him !”

“You know, Thanos, the rapper, me, and uh… Thanos’ friend I think ? No, I don't know his name.” He said, trying to imitate the guy’s voice telling his friends about the picture.

“Okay, it’s a bit funny.”

“We have to stick to it.” He nodded, sounding serious.

“No. We don’t.” You grabbed the pillow and hit the back of his head. He threw it back at you.

“Oh come on ! I want you to be like the cryptic guy that’s always there but no one knows who’s that.”

You looked at him, actually seduced by his idea.

“Okay but make sure to never use the same name when addressing me if you address me.”

“Got it, man.” He clicked his tongue, giving you a thumbs up.

Thanos has never asked you if you wanted to try his pills, though he had to admit he did want to see you high at least once. But he never mentioned them, only occasionally taking one in front of you.

So one day you got curious and asked for a pill while you walked to a restaurant. You weren’t particularly serious.

"No.” He had replied, placing both hands on your shoulders. “Don’t want you to get addicted.” He looked so serious it took you off guard, making you laugh.

“I won’t, it’s just once.” You argued back.

“I love you, remember ? I don’t want you to end up like me.”

“Okay…”

“I have shit teeth.” He added, giving no context.

“Huh ?”

“Because of it. Don’t believe me ? Do I have to show you ?” His hold on you tightened.

“No, no ! I trust you. Whatever, I was just asking.”

“Good.” He finally let go of you, glad he had managed to change your mind and feeling a bit warm about your words. You trusted him.

“Can we move on ?”

“Are you going to ask again ?”

“Nope !” You replied, making a pinky promise gesture. “Can we keep walking ? I’m hungry for fried mandu.” You grimaced, pulling on his arm as you began to walk again.

“Ah ! Can you not say I have bad teeth though ?” He quickly added, following you.

You turned around, looking at him, raising an eyebrow. You understood he was somewhat self-conscious about them if he asked that.

“You’re the one who spoke-”

“Please.”

“T, I’m not a dentist. Did you ever hear me speak about someone’s teeth ?” You deadpanned before turning back around to look in front of you.

“So you don’t care if I have bad teeth ?”

“Why would I care ?” You looked at him again before stopping. “Ah. Actually I care, I’m a bit worried about your health dude. You should stop with this shit.” You said, a hint of worry in your voice.

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow at you, though he felt nicely touched.

“You just asked me for one.” He pointed out.

“It’s different !”

“No it isn’t !”

“Yes it is ! Can we keep walking ? I'm literally hungry as shit !”

You’ll often have Thanos’ hands on your shoulders as he walks with you, his fingers squeezing you gently or an arm wrapped around them. He thinks that if he’s being charming his feelings will be returned.

So he opens doors for you.

Well, some of them because he forgets to do so a lot of times. And he also asks to pay anytime you eat together, but you know he struggles with money, already having a big debt, so you always fight him on who’s going to pay.

“I pay.” He said, wiping his mouth covered in sauce, raising his hand to call for someone.

“Subong !” You said loudly, slapping your hand dramatically on the table, gaining the attention of the people around. He looked at you with wide eyes, surprised you used his real name. “I refuse.” You added calmly now with a small smile.

He raised his hand again, slowly.

“Excuse me. I’d like to pay.” He said to a waiter not far. You let out a sigh that turned into a loud frustrated groan.

“Hey, T, I’m serious, do not pay.” You warned, leaning on the table. As the waiter arrived, you both glared at each other. But you handed him your credit card quicker, Thanos was still struggling to give him the exact amount with his money.

“It’s- it’s okay, sir- I have your friend’s card.” The waiter said, trying to stop Thanos from counting.

“No !”

“Yeah.” You blew him a kiss with a wink before thanking the waiter as he walked away with your card.

“You fucking little shit !”

“Now, now, it’s not how to talk to someone you love.” You said, batting your eyelashes seductively. He scoffed, throwing his paper towel at you.

“Fuck you.” He replied, a small smile on his lips, making you laugh.

He likes to share thoughts but not only. Like an umbrella.

He’s not the kind of guy to have one on himself, not even at his place. You don’t either and he knows that.

So when he sees some abandoned and dry cardboard, he will use it to protect you two from the rain. Or sometimes he will steal an umbrella at the entrance of some store and abandon it at another one.

“Do you want to hold it with me ?” He wiggled his eyebrows, looking at you with insistence.

“Nah, my hands are good in my pockets.”

He doesn’t take it as a loss, you’re wearing his gloves anyway.

Speaking of, sharing clothes can often happen as well.

Winters in Korea means snow and cold temperatures, you know that. But you often get cold anyway. It’s not that you underdress for the weather, but you always buy clothes that are too thin, overestimating their warmth.

“Ahh fuck, I’m fucking cold !” You sighed, shaking, before letting out a small frustrated scream. You rubbed your hands together, trying to warm yourself up.

“Here, take my jacket.” He replied immediately, taking it off with his beanie, trying to look cool.

“Go away, T.” You laughed, pushing his jacket away. “You’ll get sick and be a bitch about it.”

“No way ! Put this on, then !” He forced his hat on your head, making you groan. “Wait.” He added, rushing inside before coming back with a big scarf, wrapping it around your neck.

“You’re like my granny sometimes.” You snorted, readjusting his beanie and the scarf.

“Maybe I am, her spirit entered my body. Mhm !” He said, hitting his heart with his fist twice before raising it in the air to pay his respects, but before he could do it you stopped him, grabbing his hand.

“She isn’t dead, dumbass.” You snickered.

He just shrugged, letting his fingers caress yours as you released his hand.

You wanted to say something about it, to ask him to stop it with the lingering touches, but decided against it, not wanting to twist the knife.

You know it’s not because he’s cheery around you that he doesn’t feel sick at times about not being able to love you properly.

“Ah, I really love you.” He said, laying on his side, next to you while you were focused on playing Tears of the Kingdom on the switch you had brought.

“How do you want me to respond to that ?” You replied, your tone a bit too serious, though it didn’t seem to bother him.

“With ‘Oh I love you so much !’” He said enthusiastically, pulling you against him, planting a kiss on your cheek.

You chuckled, pushing him away with your elbow.

“I do love you. But not… the same way you do.”

He looked at you, silent, before laying on his back, staring at his ceiling. You hit pause and turned to him.

“Sorry.” You said and he hummed. “Do you want me to leave ?”

“No. Just pass me the switch.” He held his hand out, waiting for you to give it to him.

“Ehh, so greedy, it hasn’t even been 15 minutes yet.” You huffed, passing it to him anyway while giving him a fake nasty look. “You better kill those hands. Giving me the heebie jeebies.”

“I love you.” He repeated, the tip of his fingers against yours on the switch. You just stared at him apologetically, before patting his head gently.

“I know.”

“I’ll kill all of them for you.” He said, determined.

“Mh, apparently there’s other enemies after the hands. Like gloom Ganon I think.”

“I know. I’m running away right now.”

You snorted, watching as his Link tried to run with close to zero stamina.

“Yeah, do that.” You smiled, patting his shoulder.

“But I will kill them all, for my Zelda.” He said, looking at you, wiggling his eyebrows. You were his Zelda.

You laughed before sitting up and grabbing the switch.

“I’m leaving.”

#male reader #m!reader #squid game #squid game 2 #squid game x m!reader #squid game x male reader #thanos squid game #choi su bong x m!reader #choi su bong x male reader #choi su bong #choi subong x m!reader #choi subong x male reader #choi subong

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penvisions · 3 months ago

Text

underbelly {gone to the dogs} - a holiday special

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: You and Joel have an understanding, a new thing between you both. Where once biting words were exchanged and annoyance flared, now there's this simmering thing that slowly takes hold. And who is Joel Miller if not a giving man at his core, determined to do right by the people he lets into his pack?

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: canon typical language, outbreak fic, age gap (about 15 years), sub! joel miller, dom / sub dynamics, sexual content, rough sex, p in v, smut, unprotected p in v (it's the end of the world, y'all), oral (m and f receiving), sappy gift giving, holiday fic, some good ole pwp (well a little bc it's me lol)

Fic Notes: set at the beginning of their relationship, so between chapters five and six, i believe

A/N: hello, my loves! this is an apology of sorts for joel's behavior in the most recent chapter of the main series 😅felt like i needed to even the playing field a bit hehe. happy holidays and hope the days are good to y'all!

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The table in front of you is an organized mess. From the small baggies of pills and powder, to the piles of hand rolled cigarettes and joints separated in plastic bins, there are four more full of medicine and vitamins that aren’t offered at the infirmary. This is most of the current stock you have, save for a bin that contains five to ten baggies of each drug and pill you offer safely secured underneath the loose panel of wood that acts as one of the many patch ups to the walls of your apartment, this one in your bedroom right beside the bathroom door.

You’ve got a beaten up notebook open as you’re looping out names and exchanges owed. A tally of who you traded with the past two weeks and what they asked for in the next two. There’s a lot to organize and you take an afternoon each week to keep it all neatly transcribed. The small bottle of ink you have is beside the little stamp you’ve kept well hidden from anyone else. Not wanting it to fall into the wrong hands and end up being used on product that is certainly not yours or up to your standards.

Tess had just gotten up from the couch, her resting spot for a moment after work. An inner jacket pocket full of baggies she was about to go and deliver to the tenants of the building next door. Just as you’re about to get up and stretch your legs, the front door opens after a jingling of keys and the lock turning.

Joel.

He’s back late for the day, but you don’t mind getting the random hours to spend with him. You do a lap or two around the table before you set a pot of water up on the stove to boil in an attempt at a late lunch. There are a few cans of potatoes you found last week and you wanted to try and make something soft and hot- mashed potatoes.

Snow dusts the top of his shoulders as you watch him carefully lock the door behind himself, his thick fingers sliding the deadbolt and side latch locks. It’s all in his hair too, darkening the locks by contrast, though you can see the gray beginning to thread itself between the strands. Without a word, Joel is turning and something flies out of his grip and towards you across the room.

You catch it, though the hit of the hard thing is cushioned by a swath of thick paper around it and a twine bow tied to keep it closed.

“Joel, what the hell?” But he doesn’t respond, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair you had been in before disappearing into the bedroom. His boots clunk with the heavy steps he takes, the pain in his back and hips worse today without him needing to tell you. Sighing, you set the electric burner to the lowest setting and sit back at the table.

The little wrapped item gets set to the side, not forgotten but saved for later.

“Why didn’t you open it?”

“It’s just more of the same. Wanted to catalogue everything I already have before adding more to the roster,” You swoop the pencil in your hand over the expanse of the table, it was clear what was going on, wasn’t it? Why did he have to pick arguments with you even now, you’ve shared your apartment and bed with him for nearly a year. But sometimes you still feel like you didn’t know all of him and while you had resigned yourself to that very likely reality, you would take what he could offer you. What he was willing and wanting to offer you, because when you did- the tension in his shoulders eased just a bit, that scowl he wears so well lessens just a bit, his dark eyes lighten enough to let you glimpse at the person you assume he used to be.

“Darlin’, it ain’t none of that.” When you tilt your head to the side, much like an entranced dog, you can see the way his adam’s apple bobs, his next words the softest you’ve ever hear from him. In both sentiment and tone, aside from the night everything shifted. “It’s a gift for you. For the holiday.”

“Joel…” The confusion leaks out of you, replaced by a warmth in your chest. It’s been…god, it’s been years since anyone got you anything for the holidays. And here he is, all brooding and big and violent, giving you a piece of himself you hadn’t previously seen. His eyes are heavy on you as the paper crinkles, the twine unravels.

Atop the notebook, nestled in the ‘gift wrap’ is a little wooden figure. A dog. A cane corso dog.

A physical depiction of the very thing that lended you the nickname you’ve taken on in stride. Adapted in your endeavor to provide things for the people that the remnants of government forces refused to or asked for too much in exchange for. You were always giving, sacrificing, scrounging, never taking anything for yourself unless absolutely necessary. But this? This was something just for you, something made just for you but the looks of it. The scrapes and a blade obvious in the carving.

The gasp that leaves you does nothing to help the rapid flutter of your heart.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, sharp eyes watching the way water droplets cling to your skin as you emerge from your shower. The door was wide open, the space heater Joel had found among the rubble now fixed and set between the bedroom and bathroom threshold. A lame attempt at bringing some warmness to where you both curled up at night.

The cold was getting to him, his body aching. Not just sore, but aching in the way that begins to spur thoughts of old age in his mind. He’s not that old, he doesn’t think. But he is a hell of a lot older than you and he sees it in the way you perk up at the sight of snow softly falling from the sky. In the way you offer to run to the commissary or the food hall for everyone when there’s just no energy for standing at the stove or tinkering with something that’s been broken one too many times.

Your eyes are on him as you approach but he doesn’t feel like he used to when they pinned him down in a challenge. Now he feels rooted to the spot, waiting to see what you would do with anticipation rather than anger at being challenged. He no longer feels like you’re heeling him, like he’s nothing but dirt and grime underneath the tread of your boots, flesh that was torn apart and stuck between your teeth.

No. Now he feels like he’s been granted a fresh breath of air straight from your lungs.

And he’s reveling in it. He can’t help out but reach with itching fingers, trailing over the silk of your damp skin. The hitch in your breath he can fucking hear is driving him wild, the way you freely walk around like this when before it was all growls and threats if he even so much as managed a glimpse of what you look like underneath your threadbare clothing. Of the real you that hides behind the harsh persona and attitude you’ve taken on as a shell against the world.

He sees it now, as you let him trail his fingers up to the crooks of your elbows and tug you between his legs. His lips press to your skin, a groan escaping from his chest despite the pull in his shoulder muscles at the action.

The shift of the dynamic was sudden, brought on by seeing you in a new element. One where he was able to glimpse the person you used to be. And it had made his heart both stutter and ache. If you had crossed paths before the end of the world, you would’ve thrown him for a loop, stuck in his head until he carved out time to do something about it. But as the universe played it’s hand, he’s still crossed paths with you. That’s good enough for him, despite the biting words you used to mean as you berated him and bossed him around- shoved the barrel of a gun in his face and demanded what the hell he thought he was doing trying to edge in on the smuggling scene here in this zone like he owned the place.

Because he didn’t then, and he still doesn’t now. No, that’s you.

And he’s now the muscle in it, determined to do right by the situation. It feels good to step down, to follow the orders he gets from you or from you by Tess’s mouth. To just be a piece in the game he had been heading for far too long in far too many places and scenarios. It was nice to just turn off his brain and listen.

He feels much the same way now as he watches with a quick thrumming of his heart and blood rushing to his cock as you move to kneel behind him on the bed still in only your thin towel. Hands gently kneed into his aching muscles, and he leans into the touch. It was a good thing, he thinks, to have taken the time to carve that figure for you. A gift. A frivolous thing he wanted to give to you in the midst of chaos and too cold weather, the half-smile it brought to your face worth the effort of a new hobby he had dared to try.

When prodding fingers find a particular hard knot between his neck and shoulder blade, the moan he lets out pinches his face up in pain.

“Lemme get the menthol stuff, it’ll help.”

He watches as you strut across the room and disappear into the kitchen, towel now gone and all your skin on display. He feels the swell of his cock harden in his jeans and presses a palm to relieve some of the ache there too.

He’s always been the one to lead, to take charge but he’s thinking more and more that you like being that way. And his mind blanks as you stand in front of him with hardened nipples and a jar of homemade lotion that smells far too strong to handle at the moment.

When you upcap it, he reaches out to stop you. The puzzled look that has the hint of annoyance behind it has him rolling his lips, words stuck in his throat. As the silence drags on, you must see the way that his eyes are darkened by arousal and contemplation. But you don’t move until he manages to unstick the words from where they’re lodged.

“Just…not right now. Your hands are good enough, we can save it for another time, yeah?”

Without a word, you’re twisting the cap back on the jar and then pushing a small hand to the center of his chest.

“Then lay back.”

“What for?” He raises a thick brow at the command, ready to dispel whatever hesitation that lingers in his body.

“Gonna take care of you. You gonna let me?”

All he can muster up is a nod before he listens and does exactly what you ask of him. He lets go of everything, every thought and you take the reigns from his hands. The clink of his belt is loud, breaking the drone of the heater working in the corner and the sound of his zipper as him closing his eyes tightly.

“You gifted me something and now let me do the same. Just lemme take the lead, turn that brain off for a moment, yeah?”

Joel sighs out a ‘yes’ as he lifts his hip at the tap of your palms there, allowing you to peel the jeans and boxers from his legs. Goosebumps crop up at the cooler temperature, the heat of his hardened cock bobs against his stomach. He’s never been this way before. Not with you and barely with Tess, physical and sexual interactions always on his terms, on his conditions. Giving into you know feels right, he trusts you. Even as he feels the nip of sharp teeth on his neck before a warm tongue sooths it over.

“You can be such a good boy sometimes.” And the praise falling from your lips in a confident tone should irk him, but it does nothing but cause him to jerk below the waist and clench his teeth together as he feels it wash over him. It’s genuine, not teasing. He should know, because he’s normally the one praising you in such a manner. It’s a nice moment, he realizes, letting you take the lead. Allowing himself to fall into your commands in a less than serious way. In a more serious way. This is everything.

His chest heaves as you move down his body, the denim shirt he’s wearing unbuttoned as you go, lips trailing over coarse chest hair, the trail that moves down down down…

The feeling of him in your mouth is a heady sensation, it’s lighting up your body in hot sparkles that almost vibrate in intensity. The salty, musky taste of him on your tongue is one you would never tire of, even if he seldom lets you indulge him this way.

Down to his core, he’s a giver. He’s someone who gives himself to those around him and that’s obvious even in the bedroom. He always pleasures you, with his plush, delectable lips. His thick fingers and wide hands, the edge of his strong nose. The heft and feel of his cock something you crave just as much as he seems to be willing to sink into your pulsing heat at any chance he could get. It wasn’t just about fucking. Hell, it wasn’t even just about being fucked by him- it was something more. A man whose walls were built so high, bricks unsettling and gaps forming as you both share daily responsibilities and nightly routines. You were bonded.

But right now? He’s given himself wholly over to you.

His lips form a hard line as you nose along the leading head of his cock, flushed a pretty dusky pink, the exact same shade. But you can’t fight the frown that threatens to take over your own as you press your them to the slit to gather the pearlescent drop there, tongue peeking out to taste it.

“Lemme hear you, Joel.” That paired with the hungry way you swallow him down has him surging up with a strangled expletive followed by your name. After that, he hardly has any trouble letting loose deep groans and guttural growls as you take him back into your mouth and hollow your cheeks. His hips lift as you take him as deep as you can, leaking head nudging the back of your throat in the most delicious way.

It's dangerous, how powerful you feel right now. With Joel Miller loose limbed and compliant beneath you, surrendering to whatever you deem he deserves.

But nothing compares to the grip his hands form on your hips and the frantic look in his eyes as you straddle his thick thighs and sink down on him until your bottom is flush with them. Panting, you grind slowly, reveling in the feel of him deep and stretching you to make room for him to nestle. He’s hitting that sweet spot only he can reach and starts burst in the corners of your vision as you meet his gaze.

He’s never looked for open and recked, eyes blown own, breath puffing out in harsh pants, lips glistening from where you swear drool shines over them…

Tracing the bounce of your chest as you continue to grind against him, pleasure swathing you both in a tingling that crawls over every inch of skin. You clench around him, pulling a tortured sound from him as he fights off the feeling of bucking up into you. The shaking of his legs makes you feel pride spark low in your belly just as a flash of heat does.

“Hold on tight, I’m gonna take a ride.”

His head knocks back harshly onto the bed when you lift up and slam back down, eyes fluttering shut as all he does is hold on tight to your hips and lets you take care of him.

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