#KENNY WHEN I CATCH YOU KENNY

[devoti]

gojo looks so tired like why are the corners of his eyes so accentuated i'm going to throw up let pookie have a restful nap please

[tutsduckies]

I am so down bad it's not even funny. I know it's not my man but the face is there and I can't resist

[khiptid]

Fionna and Cake Episode 9 Moodboard (SCARED)

[shroomerr]

Missed my girl <3

Just some miscellaneous drawings I’ve compiled of my south park oc!

[hatsunemitskislobotomy]

“ 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨,

𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘥 ”

┊❛ 𝙞’𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙪𝙥 𝙤𝙛

𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙 ❜┊

“ 𝘪’𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘥 ”

❀° ┄───╮

its my little meow meow’s birthday 🥹

no hate but like lowkey if gege put me jjk kenny would’ve had to box it out with me before getting his grimy brain fluids on my pookie bear

matter of fact throw gege in the ring too— he still hasn’t payed for his crimes either

╰───┄ °❀

he felt filthy.

the taste wouldn’t leave, no matter how hard he tried.

“curses taste like a rag that was used to clean up shit and vomit.”

mission after mission.

day after day.

was this really how he was supposed to go on? being a sorcerer was a thankless occupation that was at the cost of his sanity.

his morals could only do so much to keep him from coming undone, a fraying thread— slowly unraveling to reveal something sinister.

and the taste— god he couldn’t get rid of the taste even if he wanted to.

satoru had asked him if he lost weight not too long ago, to no one’s surprise— swallowing curses does ruin one’s appetite.

sometimes he felt like he’d skip meals after a mission for weeks at a time, his companion practically begging him to eat.

he couldn’t say that this week would be any different. he just wanted to be home and away from it all, in the arms of his beloved no doubt.

————————————

with a click of the lock, he pushed open the door, dragging his feet.

immediately he was hit with everything and nothing. his senses went blank save for his hearing and sight, he was taken aback and then he remembered.

“hey sugu…” a pretty little head peeked around the corner

“is this your doing…?”

she smiled sheepishly before fully emerging from behind the corner, a steaming mug in hand.

“i’ve been working on it.”

her cursed technique, she was always humble about it. it wasn’t as flashy as his own or satoru’s, she’d argue that it wasn’t nearly as useful like shoko’s.

but at this moment, he couldn’t disagree more.

“i’m going to bring back your smell, yeah?” she murmured softly, passing the mug to him

and slowly his smell did come back, revealing the steaming mug to be the dark roast coffee— perhaps the one satoru brought back for him on a mission abroad a few months back.

the smell was overwhelming considering it was the only thing his brain could process, but not in a bad way. almost as if it was ridding him of the foulness that plagued him a mere few minutes before.

“y/n i—“

“you must be exhausted.” she cut him off with an apologetic smile

“i uh.. started a bath for you, some bath salts are in there to help— should be enough time for you to relax and then i’ll bring your taste back so you can drink your coffee.” she fidgeted, a habit she’d do when she rambled

his tired eyes couldn’t help but soften.

“you didn’t have to.”

“i see how missions take a toll on you suguru…”

“it’s my duty—“

“but at what cost?”

his eyes snapped down to hers. all this time he thought his inner turmoil, his resentment and bitterness that was festering— he thought he kept it well away behind his morality and sense of duty… and she just saw through it so casually.

she could see him.

his throat went dry as he tried to speak, she just offered him a smile.

“it’s the least i can do— now stop second guessing whether you deserve it, the water’s gonna get cold.” she mused before taking the mug back and disappearing further into the small apartment

and as much as he’d like to stand there and process, that bath sounded really nice.

————————————

he stayed in that bath until the water became lukewarm, she really had a knack for aromatherapy. the bath salts left a eucalyptus scent wafting through the bathroom as the water relaxed his aching muscles and the unrest in his mind.

he had dressed into something comfortable before emerging from the bathroom, pajama pants and a plain long sleeve, his hair out of its neat bun instead the raven tresses still dripping a little bit of water down his back from his lazy towel drying.

the rest of the apartment smelled warm and cozy, it usually smelled like this anyways but with his sense of smell heightened he could appreciate it more.

he made his way to the living room where she sat couch, waiting for him with another steaming mug of coffee.

“come, sit down here.” she tapped the spot with her foot

he took the invitation in stride, nestling on the floor with his back against the couch as he sat in between her legs.

she handed him the cup of coffee before trailing her fingers through his hair, gently working out the knots. he took a sip of the coffee, his senses finally allowing him to taste the bitterness of the drink.

he could stay like this forever.

“do you want to talk about your day?” she hummed

“there’s nothing significant about today, just another mission.” he murmured against the rim of the cup, staring into his drink that reflected his eyes

“you can’t say nothing significant happened today!”

he tilted his head up only to be met with a frown.

“what do you mean…? it was just another mission day…”

“can’t believe gojo was right about this.” her frowned deepened

“am i missing something…?”

“your birthday silly!”

he blinked a few times.

his birthday?

he checked the date on his phone, his lips forming a little ‘o’ at the calendar staring back at him.

so it was that time of year again?

“gojo said that you have the tendency to forget but i didn’t think he was serious.” she pouted

“now why are you upset?” he reached up from his position, resting a hand on her cheek

“because it’s your birthday— stupid higher ups made you go on a mission on your birthday!”

well when it was put like that…

“gojo and shoko wanted to throw you a surprise party after your mission but i remembered how overwhelmed you get sometimes especially after dealing with curses… figured a party was the last thing you wanted to come home to.” he couldn’t help but smile at the little detail she picked up

“they still plan to come by later with takeout and cake… but i suggested that you had some time to decompress and recuperate first and they were on board.”

“i don’t deserve you.” he blurted out

“well that’s too bad, i think i’m quite comfortable where i’m at.” she chuckled lightly, tapping the side of his face affectionately

“you’re always taking care of people, who’s gonna take care of you?” she let out a sigh, her gaze shifting downward in a pensive state

“y/n..”

“let me do this for you okay? then you can push me away and be your broody self—”

she felt the words die in her throat as she felt his grip on her arm.

“can i be greedy for a moment?”

“it’s not greedy if it’s for your sake.” she frowned a bit

he took that as a sign when he got up, with his knees to the ground he still managed to hover over her sitting figure on the couch. his rough hands cradling her face like precious treasure.

despite her eyes widening in surprise, there was no hint that she wanted him to back off.

“can i be greedy?” he repeated hoarsely, his breathing stilled after realizing their proximity

“with me, you can be as greedy as you want.” she whispered

and he was more than happy to oblige, feeling and tasting her warmth as he pulled her in, capturing her lips with his in a slow, sweet kiss.

all he could taste was her sweetness that complimented the coffee taste that still lingered on his own lips. a comforting contrast to the nauseating and despicable taste of his reality, a piece of his own little heaven, his sanctuary.

and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“happy birthday suguru.”

[purplepeptobismol]

Espero que mi querida Selena Quintanilla sepa desde el cielito el amor que nosotros fans de BUNNY tenemos pa ella 🫶💕

[lovereadandwrite]

LOVER BOY WINS AGAIN

[finndoesntwantthis]

KEN WINNING HIS FIRST MATCH BACK I KNOW THATS RIGHT.

So sad that he has to be alone even tho his literal husband and brother in law are in the building 🙃

[smoments]

no bc the way that gojo looks at geto (kenjaku) when he’s getting sealed never fails to make me physically sick. like even as he knows he’s going to be captured and there’s nothing he can do about it it’s SO clear from looking at his face that all he can think about is the fact that his supposedly dead best friend is in front of him and i feel the lostness and the confusion radiating off of him and it's like he's still in shock & trying to cling on to that last shred of hope that he could still be alive. he's searching for suguru in kenny's smile even though HE KNOWS IT'S NOT HIM!!! it’s so wide eyed and vulnerable and childlike and i’m going to cry and throw up lord

[lyril]

lumpus is a fascinating specimen glad theres other people also fond of him

HE SURE IS i will be honest i almost like him a Little Too Much because i Also live in my fantasy world of make believe where camp lazlo is a little more than a 6.4/10 show (I STILL LOVE YOU SWEETHEART!) and instead also includes all my insane 20k spiels of backstory stringing and talks about character writing but

(also. i do think it's funny how popular slinkman is in comparison, i love him just as much, but i actually see people mention really liking slinkman pretty frequently if someone happens to posts about camp lazlo which is GOOD because he DESERVES IT MAJORLY but the lumpus bug has Also caught me something awful even though i hate him and he sucks so i'm alone adrift in the world out here...)

edited this just for him

[elitehoe]

Nick Jackson foulplay?? Oh wow Kenneth you really done fucked up brother

[superpyodan]

thinking about the fact that Kenny’s name is actually Kendal … 😂😂😂😂

also, kind of unrelated, but - Kenny… When I catch you …. I cannot listen to Car Seat Headrest without thinking about him. Get out of my brain NOW.

idk i'm mad at him right now for no reason whatsoever. like genuinely no reason. i want to chop him up into pieces and put him in a stew

[bloodmoonmuses]

bitch wtf he wants me dead

[gor3-hound]

I'M HOWLING AT THE MOOOOOON GOD FUCK. don't play logan we both know i'd take all like... 11 inches of those claws 😓😓😓

dig your claws right into me ♡

logan howlett x fem!reader

logan hurts you when he has a nightmare. now you both have to deal with the fallout.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, descriptions of nightmare, injury, and blood

a/n: reader is a mutant but i didn't specify her powers so you can imagine what you want. just some sickly sweet intimacy cause that's what i was feeling tonight <3

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The words come out whispered as Logan's lips press against the three tiny bumps of developing scar tissue on your abdomen.

"I already told you that you don't have to be sorry," you say. Your voice drifts into the space between the two of you as soft as the movements of your fingers running through his hair.

"Well I am, bub. You should want me to be."

Each one of his hands rests upon either side of your waist. His fingers squish against your flesh while his eyes stare at the scars on your belly. He gazes at them like the small marks, all equidistant from one another, could be willed away by his harsh look. He hated the fact that they were there at all. Even worse, that he was the one who gave them to you.

"But it was an accident," you respond, giving one of the tufts of his hair a gentle tug.

His dark pupils flit up to look at your face. "Doesn't matter. It being an accident doesn't change the fact that you're gonna have these marks forever. I wouldn't care that it was accidental if I'd killed you."

He remembers the night it happened that seemed like a real possibility.

His light sleep had been interrupted by a nightmare. Over the time that had passed between then and now, it'd become indistinct from all the others he experiences regularly. The only difference between that one and the ones he'd had since he'd started sleeping next to you each night was the intensity. That night had been rough. Normally when he slept in your room, he seemed to be able to tone it down. Almost as if his brain knew to not act up while your relationship was still starting to blossom.

But two weeks ago, his mind didn't care. It flash-banged him with the usual images of himself in that tank. The searing, splitting pain of the adamantium attaching itself to his bones.

Usually, if he had a nightmare beside you, he'd grunt and twitch, maybe shift around a little. That night though, you got to see the whole performance. The tossing and turning, sweating and moaning, tense limbs and scrunched up face.

Poor, sweet, innocent you thought that you could just wake him up. Your hands nudged at his bicep and shoulder as you gently cooed "Logan. It's just a dream."

In the end, your tenderness didn't matter. When he actually came to, your anguished cry was all that registered. And then he felt the sharp heat between his knuckles that meant the claws were out. His heart dropped and his vision nearly blacked out. He couldn't have.

He retracted them as quickly as they'd appeared and pulled back to look at you. Crimson flooded the gray t-shirt you'd worn to bed. The three little spots spread into large blooms of scarlet. Your hands flew to the spot to clutch at it, but they did nothing to stop the warm liquid from spilling out.

"No, no, no, fuck," he'd whispered frantically as his mind raced for a solution.

Your cries morphed into whimpers. Soft and vulnerable. Like a prey animal that'd been fatally wounded but not put out of its misery. Blood seeped out onto your bedding, and it was then that he rocketed off the mattress and scooped you up into his arms.

Fortunately, Scott, Jean, and Storm were already outside the door in the hall, having heard the scream. A gathering of students lingered behind them as well. Shame coursed through his veins, albeit dulled by the panic. He remembered thinking it was stupid, but after the adrenaline left his system, it was the dominant emotion he was left with. Ashamed was the only word that could describe holding the knowledge that everyone here now saw he was capable of hurting the woman he loves. Maybe he was no better than an animal.

In truth, shame was all he felt now. So much relief settled over him since you'd made it out alive. Thanks to the enhanced physical capabilities from your mutation and Jean's adequate medical skills, these scars would be the only lasting effect of the wounds.

He'd rushed you down to the infirmary faster than he'd ever moved in a non-combat situation. His feet thundered down the stairs, a part of him withering to ash with each little whimper you let out as the motion jostled your body around.

"I'm sorry, bub. Almost there. We're almost there. You're gonna be ok," he'd mumbled out thoughtlessly, saying anything he could that would bring you even a shred of comfort.

He kept your hand in his the entire time you were down there on the cold examination table. His grip stayed firm. He wouldn't let the anxiety over your well being consume him. This was his fault, and now you needed him. He didn't get to be worried or upset or anything that wasn't in support of you.

When you howled in pain, he winced as if he was the one being treated. You cried for him, choking out "Logan" through tears over and over. It tore him apart inside. All he could do to soothe you was stroke your cheek and murmur reassurances in your ear.

"Shh, shh, shh. You're doing so good, baby. My strong girl. Being so brave."

He usually reserved affection for private moments, but in those painful seconds, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room.

These thoughts running through his head display across his face. The way his cheek squishes against your tummy and his eyes vacantly stare at the wall opposite his bed. You told him the next day that everything transformed into a blur in your mind. You remembered the feeling of being stabbed and the sight of him panicking, but beyond that nothing specific stayed. You knew he held you and talked to you even though you couldn't recall an individual thing he said or did.

That was fine with him. He listened to you tell the story from your perspective. You spoke with your normal cadence, the usual happy glow in your eyes, and the same animated gestures coming from your hands. His eyes lingered on your torso though. The bandages peeking out from underneath your clean camisole he'd changed you into.

Every last detail of the incident was etched into the deepest part of his psyche. Most likely stored away as material for future nightmares. As much as he hated it, he figured that's the way it should be. He didn't deserve the peace that comes with forgetting.

For the first week after it'd happened, he wouldn't sleep with you. He'd stay with you, cuddled against your body, until you drifted off. Then he'd get up and skulk back to his own room, leaving you cold and alone on your bed.

Eventually after a few more days, you got him to try it out again, but he'd only do it in his own room. It was hard for him to be in yours. New sheets covered your foamy mattress now since the blood wouldn't wash out of the old set. Each brush of the novel material against his skin was just a rose-printed reminder of what he'd done to you.

He's snapped out of his recollection when your voice returns to the original conversation.

"None of that stuff happened though. You didn't kill me, and you're not going to. I'll be more careful next time," you break the silence with a gentle reassurance.

Next time. That's what hurts the worst. You knew this would happen again. You'd promised that when it did you wouldn't try to wake him. Wouldn't touch him or do anything that could set him off. Just give him his space and let him work through it.

"I don't even want you worrying about being careful when you're trying to sleep," he grumbles.

Your nails scrape over his scalp, making his eyes flutter. A deep sigh leaves him. As much as he hated himself for all of this, he could never help easing up under your touch.

"You're worth it."

Three words you said so often. He never believed them, but that didn't stop you from repeating them like a slogan. Instead of arguing with you over the validity of the statement, he stays silent. Replaces any verbal response with a physical one by nuzzling into the warmth of your stomach and laying kisses around your navel.

You watch the affectionate gesture and trail your fingers down to the nape of his neck, massaging the tender skin there.

"You are," you whisper, "One mistake doesn't define you. Doesn't change how I see you."

"It's not just a simple mistake-" he starts.

"Yes it is," you interject, trying to nip his self doubt in the bud.

"It's not. It's not like I forgot your birthday or left my wallet behind when taking you out."

"It's still an accident. The severity doesn't change the intention. Would you hate me if my powers acted up and hurt you?"

God, you could be just as stubborn as him. It grated on his already frayed nerves. He shifts to look up at you fully. And some of that building tension dissolves upon seeing the earnest look on your face.

"It's not the same. Anything you did to me, I would heal," he says.

"I'm healing too. I'm just not as fast as you," you respond. You actually smile as if this is some lighthearted matter. Of course you knew it wasn't the same. You presented no danger to him whereas if he'd nicked you an inch to the left, he might be talking to your headstone right now instead of you. That wasn't the point though.

He shakes his head. "It's different, bub. But I'm not even saying you should hate me..." 

In truth, he didn't know what he was saying. If he wanted you to hate him or stay away from him, he could be the one to break things off. But he was still right here, arms wrapped around you and head hovering inches away from your body.

"I just think you should be more cautious than you're being," he finishes, "I don't want you to think you have to put up with this."

You frown and pet his hair. "I don't think that."

"I'm not trying to lecture you, baby," he sighs, "I just don't want to hurt you again."

He could certainly flaunt a pair of puppy eyes when he wanted to. The way he was looking up at you now made him seem so sad and wounded. Like a dog who can't control when he bites but gets kicked aside for it all the same.

"You're not going to. We'll be careful. It was an accident," you say, tone almost pleading, "You're still my Logan."

To go along with your words, you pull on one of his arms, beckoning him closer. He complies with your request and scales your body so that the two of you are aligned. You stare up into his eyes and the whirlpools of emotion within them. Your hand lands on his cheek, your thumb stroking back and forth in small swipes.

"I'm not gonna let you pull away cause of this," you whisper, "It wasn't your fault. You don't choose to have those dreams."

You can tell he wants to argue, but he struggles to find the words. Indirectly cutting him off, you guide his head closer to yours. His face slots against the crook of your neck, and yours does the same in his. You nuzzle him there, breathing in the rich, musky scent of him.

"You're not wrong for wanting to be happy. You don't deserve to be alone," you say and kiss below his ear.

The words make him ache from within. His metal bones vibrate with the weight of possibility of that being true while his heartbeat feels as though it stutters between his ribs. He wants to huff and say that he knows, that he doesn't need you psychoanalyzing him, thank you very much. But none of that will come out. So instead he chuckles. He tries to make it sound smooth; although, the awkwardness is apparent in each bit.

He pulls back a little and smirks down at you. "So you think I'm cut out for being gentle? Is that it?"

You know what he's doing. As closed off as he tries to be, you don't need telepathy to sense what he's feeling. You let him play it off with a joke though. If he's joking, he's not drowning in self-pity, which is all you want.

"Mhm, I know you are," you say and nose at his cheek, kissing the spot on it without facial hair, "You may have claws, but you purr like a kitten when I have my hands on you."

His eyes roll when you say that. He leans down and begins to return some of your loving gestures.

"Don't go telling people that. It's only for you," he murmurs.

"Of course, of course," you say with the same subtle playfulness.

Words die out in favor of using your mouths for better things. The kisses are lazy, built more off of love and adoration rather than lust and passion. One of your arms loops over his shoulders to keep him close while your other rubs at his side. The tip of his nose brushes your earlobe as he lowers to kiss down your throat.

His lips meet your pulse point and the divots in your neck that make you shudder when touched. He's familiar with all your secret spots by now. He plays you better than any instrument. His breath fans over your skin as his teeth scrape against the same flesh. His hands work below, squeezing your waist, fingertips leaving little bumps in their wake.

The hand of yours that had been on his side drifts further down and wiggles its way between your two bodies. Your digits stroke his pelvis above the area his cock would soon begin to harden.

A groan reverberates through his chest as his shaft rises to attention. From this angle, the pads of your fingers can reach the tip. You rub on it with light pressure, up and down. That gets him to repeat the groan, only this time the undertone of need is more prominent.

His lips latch onto your neck to work a little mark onto your skin while he pushes the waistband of his sweatpants down his thighs. You were only wearing a cropped t-shirt and panties, already easily accessible.

He nudges your thighs apart further and grinds his bulge over your mound. The heat from both your aching centers grows hotter with the friction. Arching your back off the bed, you whimper softly for further satisfaction. He presses you back down using his larger stature.

"Patience, sweetheart. Being gentle, remember?"

He only teases you with a few more grinds of his hips before his boxers vanish too and his heavy cock rests against the soft fabric of your panties. You feel the familiar thickness at first. Then his fingers swoop down and pull your panties to the side so he can slot the drippy tip against your folds. Precum smears against your slick, velvety skin.

Seconds later he splits you open. He bites his lip while you whine, his fat cock pushing further into your wanting hole. You squeeze around him. Your walls clamp and contract on his length. It doesn't push him out, merely sucks him further in. He chokes out a low moan from how tight you get.

So tight and so wet. Arousal oozes from you in no short supply. It didn't take much to get you going for Logan. A few touches alone had you leaking like a broken faucet. You whimper as he bottoms out, hips jerking as the head taps your cervix. He always gets so deep it's nearly unbearable. Even when he's going slow like he is now, he's all you can think of. He fills you up down there and occupies all the space in your head.

"Feel good, baby?" he asks.

You nod, unable to respond verbally as you adjust to the intrusion. 

He doesn't give you a prolonged period of time to adapt right now. Normally he would, but most other times, he'd be going much faster than he plans to at this moment. Typically, he'd let you get comfy with the stretch before drawing his hips back and then pumping them forward again. He'd slam in and out of you. It'd be loud with the sound of skin clapping combined with your moans and his growls. It'd be rough and quick. The bed would shake and bobble around with the force of him.

But tonight, none of that happens. He barely even pulls out to thrust. He stays nice and deep, grinding his hips rather than fucking himself in and out of you. You whine in sweet stretches of sound. He sighs and grunts against your neck. Neither of you sound like feral animals going into heat.

You loved when you fucked like that, but right now, both of you needed this. Each roll of his hips felt like a stroke of heaven brushing your insides. Your limbs curl around him tighter to keep him close. Your arms guard his neck while your legs dig into his hips. He's so lost in the feeling of you, he can't even tell where he ends and you begin.

"Tell me how it feels. Need to hear you. Wanna know I'm doing it how you need," he mumbles.

"Feels perfect," you whimper in return, "So fuckin' deep."

"Good. I only ever wanna make you feel good."

You nod, knowing it's the truth. "Anyone can hurt me, but only you know how to make me feel like this."

His eyes scrunch up at your words. He just feels lucky he has his face buried against your skin so you can't see. It had been just what he needed to hear. Boosting himself onto his knees a bit more to gain some leverage, he grips your hips and ruts against you with the slightest bit more force.

You whine at the soothing rhythm in which your bodies rock. The sense of satisfaction brought on from this took root in the deepest pit of your belly. You weren't gonna explode like you often did. Probably wouldn't scream or scratch up his back. But you could tell you were gonna cum hard.

Without saying it, he communicates he feels the same. His lack of usual dirty talk tells you everything you need to know. His cock stays nestled deep inside your pussy as he works you both to the edge. His face remains flush against your neck.

You cum first, and he follows right behind. You tighten up, toes curling and a high mewl echoing out of your throat. Your body shivers. He spills his release inside of you, his energy leaving with the sticky ropes of cum that fire.

He goes boneless on top of you, still cherishing the feeling of your skin on his. His breaths feel cool against your sweating skin.

"My baby," he sighs. His eyes flutter shut. He knows he has to pull out before he knocks out for a while, but he can do that in a second. He just needs a few more minutes of this.

You press a few kisses to the side of his head and rub his back. His hand slides between both your abdomen to touch the scars, reminding himself what he's capable of despite his current tenderness.

After a few moments, he pulls out and slumps to the side of you. You peck his lips and take the acquisition of space as a way to cool off. His eyes are drooping already. It feels good seeing him so relaxed. You kiss the space between his brows, then the bridge of his knows, and end on his lips.

"Sweet dreams," you whisper, wishing that would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay. At least for tonight.

[lucysarah-c]

Mounting Spring Ch. 8

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!

“I’m taking a shower,” he had said. “If you want to use the bathroom, now’s the time.” 

He didn’t wait for a response, stepping into the bathroom. The sticky feeling of his clothes clinging to his body was driving him insane, and he needed relief. The day was unexpectedly warm—not scorching, but the first strong days of spring always seemed to carry an extra weight. 

“Baby, you want breakfast too?” her voice floated through the door just as he bent down to roll off the black trousers of his new uniform. He paused for a moment, the words catching him off guard. 

Something about it felt... off.  The strange limbo they were in. It was the whole situation. He wasn’t usually one to get prudish or shy about his body—expeditions and common showers had long since stripped away any modesty. But as he tossed his clothes into the laundry basket and stood naked in the bathroom, her voice came again, faint but clear. 

“No, baby, get down from there!” 

He turned his head toward the door instinctively, a strange sense of restraint settling over him. Maybe it was because all the previous times he’d showered over the past three weeks, she’d been asleep. Even the night she arrived, she’d gone to bed before he’d had the chance to clean up. 

‘This is so fucking awkward,’ he thought, turning on the water and stepping under the spray. He’d been naked in far less private settings —hell, he’d stripped down and washed off in front of squads of men during expeditions without a second thought. 

‘Yeah, but nobody there was supposed to get knocked up by me.’ 

He sighed, running his hands through his hair as the water cascaded down his body. That was the real difference, wasn’t it? On expeditions, privacy was a luxury, but the situation had always been purely practical. Now, the person in the next room wasn’t just some comrade. She was supposed to be intimate enough to make moments like this normal—but they weren’t. Not yet, at least. 

As he lathered soap across his skin, his thoughts spiraled further. ‘It’s weird middle ground, isn’t it? We’re supposed to be close enough for her to be fine with me taking a shower while she’s awake, but not close enough to share those—what do you call it—quiet, personal moments. 

The thought didn’t stop him from moving through his routine. By now, the soap was rinsed off, and he stood over the sink, ready to shave. The sharp blade of his razor rested in his hand as he straightened up, catching his reflection in the slightly fogged mirror. His gaze drifted across the room as if searching for memories outside his body. 

His thoughts shifted, unbidden. ‘Did I ever go raw before this?’ he wondered, the thought creeping in before he could stop it. The memory of Kenny’s crude “lessons” in life played in his mind, and he frowned. ‘Only thing that bastard ever taught me besides killing—wrap it up.’ He snorted faintly at the absurdity of it. 

He cleaned the razor, his brow furrowed. ‘How many loads does it take to secure a pregnancy, anyway? That’s gotta mess with a guy’s head, constantly thinking about that. And if you’re in heat—’ 

His hand froze mid-motion. ‘And when you’re in heat… is it all doggy style all the time because it’s the “biologically optimal” thing to do? Can you switch it up?’ 

He let out a long breath, shaking his head slowly as he finished shaving. “I should not be thinking about this on a Wednesday morning at 10 a.m. before a meeting,” he muttered to himself, rinsing the blade one last time. 

His mind, however, didn’t seem to get the memo. ‘But seriously, though... does it always have to be on fours? I mean, I like on all fours, but… a whole week of that? Her knees, dude.’ 

Finally, he dried off, pulled on a clean shirt, and opened the door. 

“What took you so long?” she asked, her head tilting slightly as she looked up at him. 

“Nothing,” he replied curtly. 

“It’s very warm today,” she commented, seemingly trying to maintain some level of conversation with the man who was, supposedly, her husband. “Is it always this warm in the south?” 

“Mhm.” Levi only hummed in response, shrugging his jacket over his shoulders before sitting on the couch to pull his boots back on. 

“Breakfast?” she asked again, a cat cradled in her arms as she looked at him. 

“No,” he replied curtly. His head was killing him, and just the thought of food made his stomach churn. He wasn’t paying much attention—just going through his usual morning routine—until he tried brushing off the white cat hairs stubbornly clinging to his black trousers. 

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue in irritation. 

“Did you brush the cat today?” he asked, finally glancing back at her. 

But the complaint died in the back of his throat when he saw her reflection in the fogged-up bathroom mirror, struggling to put on a pair of earrings. 

A pretty sundress, hair braided half-up, half-down, long lashes accentuated by mascara. 

“Where are you going all dolled up?” 

She stilled for a moment, meeting his eyes in the mirror before turning to face him fully. “You just said I could go out.” 

‘And everything I said after that must have gone in one ear and out the other.’ 

“I want to make a good impression on your squad,” she added before turning back to her reflection, resuming her struggle with the earrings. 

Levi pressed his lips into a thin line, giving it a second thought. He wasn’t the type to regret his decisions, but suddenly, this one didn’t seem like the best idea. 

“My squad barely owns soap bars,” he muttered under his breath. A good first impression felt like overkill considering the social standards of his cadets—not that he held any grudge against them. 

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, fingers laced together as he pondered it. 

“Maybe you should wait until I come back this evening.” 

That snapped her out of it instantly. 

“What?!” She rushed over to him, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You just said I could go out!” 

The deep frown, the clenched teeth, the frustration practically radiating off her—it was all clearly meant to intimidate him. It didn’t. 

“I’m just saying, wait a couple more hours. Then I’ll walk you around myself.” 

She took a step back, voice lowering into something much colder. 

“You just said it,” she whispered, anger laced with unmistakable hurt. 

‘Oh... alright, she’s actually upset for real.’ 

Levi sighed through his nose, watching how quickly her disappointment turned into something sharp, something like resentment. 

“Fine,” he relented, exhaling as he sat back. “Just… be careful.” 

— 

“I mean... what’s the worst thing that could happen?” Levi said, recounting his morning as if it were some kind of story. 

“Shhh, talk quieter. My head is killing me,” Hange groaned, sprawled limply in his desk chair, their eyes shielded by a cold, wet towel. “I’m getting old… Remember how we used to laugh at Erwin coming back from those meetings completely wasted? Now look at us—we’re no better.” 

“Excuse me, I’ve never stolen anyone’s underwear while drunk… or high, or both,” Levi shot back, defending his honor as if that cleared him of all other debauchery. He leaned back in his chair, voice deadpan. “I don’t remember half of what I did last night, and the other half’s just a blur. But it wasn’t that bad.” 

Hange snorted, shifting the towel slightly to make room for their smirk. “You used to be this famous thug, and now you can’t handle one night of alcohol and… whatever the hell it was they brought for us to smoke. You’ve lost your edge, Captain.” 

Levi rested his head against the cool surface of the table, reaching for his tea cup without lifting his gaze. “I’m a married man now. That life of bad habits is long behind me.” 

That earned a sharp laugh from Hange, who had to readjust the towel when it slid halfway down their face. “You got married three weeks ago, asshole.” 

Finally deciding to take a sip from his cup, Levi straightened just enough to lift it to his lips—only to immediately grimace in disgust. “This is green tea.” 

“Yeah... my liver wouldn’t survive black tea today,” Hange muttered, not bothering to move the towel from their face. Then, as if the thought had just struck them, they added, “If you have a problem with it, win the elections and become Commander.” 

Levi scoffed. “Only an idiot would want to be Commander.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Hange deadpanned. “What are you? One of those people whose whole personality revolves around their partner?” 

“No,” Levi replied curly, “But it’s my only excuse,” 

— 

Double-checking in the mirror, she whispered to herself, “Good first impressions.” A small nod of encouragement. “Scouts are heads of state now, so good first impressions.” 

She pinched her cheeks lightly, giving them a subtle rosy flush, and hummed in approval. But just as she was about to turn away, her nose wrinkled at something in the air. Slowly pivoting on her heels, her eyes landed on the laundry basket. 

‘It tickles,’ she thought, scrunching her nose as if to shake off the feeling. ‘Silly.’ She gave her head the smallest shake. 

Decisive steps carried her to the office door, excitement bubbling in her chest. Her hand reached for the knob—the same one she had reached for on her first morning here. A firm pull, and it clicked open with ease. The door shifted just a few centimeters, separating from the frame, but she didn’t step through. 

She stood still. 

Her eyes remained locked on her reflection in the gilded surface. 

"Be careful." Levi’s voice echoed in her head. 

The freedom she had wanted so badly was now hers for the taking, yet it filled her with hesitation. 

She rocked her weight from one foot to the other, lips pressed together before glancing to her right—toward the open bathroom door. 

‘I mean… better safe than sorry, right?’ 

Back inside the tiled room, she lifted the wicker lid of the laundry basket. 

‘My friends did this when we were teens. Their parents got so mad…’ 

Her fingers grasped the light grey shirt Levi had worn the entire previous day—and slept in. 

‘I just have to rub my neck against it a little…’ 

A memory surfaced. Her friends sneaking around at parties, brushing up against alphas, pressing their necks together. It wasn’t claiming, but it was something back then. And maybe now, it could be something that helped her, too. 

‘I remember Die was working as a cadet… we shared a kiss through the staircase fence.’ 

The thought brought the ghost of a smile to her lips, brief and bittersweet. 

‘He smelled nice… I remember that.’ 

With more doubts than certainties, she slowly lifted the shirt to her face, pressing the collar against her nose as she took a deep, slow breath. Her eyes fluttered shut, trying to gauge her body’s reaction to it. 

First impression? The same as when she first smelled his jacket. 

Strong. ‘Musky, even’ 

But then—almost instinctively—her body craved more. Another breath. Then another. And before she realized what she was doing, she was rubbing the fabric against her skin, pressing it to her neck in slow, deliberate motions, as if massaging the scent into her skin, soothing in a way she hadn’t expected. 

A low, involuntary purr rumbled in her throat. 

Her eyes shot open in horror. 

She let go of the shirt like it had burned her, watching as it dropped back into the basket. 

Her breath hitched, blood rushing to her cheeks as she stood there, frozen in place. 

‘Oh god… why did I do that?!’ 

Moving robotically, she walked to the couch and sat down, staring in silent mortification. The cat kneading a pillow in the corner was swiftly scooped up as she muttered to it in despair, 

“I just did that… to his shirt?! What is wrong with me?!” 

The cat bumped its head against her chin in response. 

She pushed the animal down with a huff. “…Though, I guess… he’s the only man I’m allowed to react like that for, so… it’s not that bad. Right?” 

“Meow.” 

Newfound conviction in her step, she strode toward the door, this time with more confidence. 

The moment she opened it, she inhaled deeply—ready to embrace the fresh air. 

Only to immediately recoil. 

“Ugh…” she groaned, grimacing. 

Levi’s scent—his natural musk mixed with aftershave, deodorant, and cologne—had been intoxicating. But this? The thick, cloying stench of a hundred alphas all packed together, their scents mingling like scrambled eggs? 

Absolutely disgusting. 

“Never mind.” She shook her head violently, as if trying to physically rid herself of the sensory assault. “Let’s go for a walk!” 

She barely got two steps before the soft patter of tiny paws followed her. 

She turned, spotting her cat trotting after her with eager strides. 

“Aww, sweetie! You wanna come too?” 

Door locked, cat in arms—she was ready for her stroll. 

With the window open, she took in a slow, deep breath, savoring the fresh forest air. The scent of pine and linden soothed her nose, washing away the lingering stench from earlier. The sky stretched bright and blue, the warmth of the sun kissing her skin. 

Looking down from the window frame, she spotted two cadets staring up at her, confusion written all over their faces. 

“Morning!” she chirped, all too pleased to be out, to stretch her legs, to breathe. “Beautiful day, innit?” 

The two teens exchanged glances before nodding—slowly. 

“Uh-huh…” 

Unbothered, she continued her stroll. “Let’s get stuff for a picnic!” 

Following the directions given by another cadet, she eventually reached a set of doors—what she assumed was the mess hall. 

To her surprise, it was mostly empty, save for a few scattered cadets who lifted their heads at the sound of her entrance. Their brows furrowed, confusion evident. 

“Hi,” she greeted, waving. “Morning! The kitchen?” 

One of them pointed toward the far end of the room. 

“Thank you~” she chimed before heading off. 

But before she could get far— 

“Excuse me, girl?” 

She turned on her heel, blinking as a cadet stood from one of the benches. 

“Civilians aren’t allowed to wander around,” he said, eyeing her warily. “If you’re looking for someone, please wait here.” 

“Oh! No, no,” she insisted, waving her hands. “I’m Captain Levi’s wife. I live here.” 

Silence. 

The loudest silence she had ever heard. 

“…See ya!” she added before walking off. 

— 

“We should be training,” Eren muttered, biting into an apple. “Not doing kitchen duties.” 

“Come on, Captain Levi hardly ever cancels morning drills. Yesterday’s after-hours meeting must’ve been intense,” Armin reasoned. “They probably discussed something incredibly serious if they were up so late.” 

“Yeah, like that train they want us to build, and—” 

“A kitty!” 

Jean paused mid-peel, turning to Mikasa’s rare display of enthusiasm. “Yes, a kitty… Wait, a kitty?” 

Mikasa had already abandoned the conversation, beelining toward Y/N with bright, wide eyes locked onto the oversized cat in her arms. 

“Oh, hi,” Y/N greeted, a bit caught off guard as the raven-haired girl approached. “He’s friendly.” 

“Can I pick him up?” 

“Sure.” 

Mikasa carefully took the enormous feline, cradling him against her chest with unexpected gentleness. 

Meanwhile, Sasha and Jean locked eyes across the kitchen, communicating through sheer willpower alone: It’s her! The only two in the squad who had actually seen Y/N before, now confirmed. 

“I always wanted a cat,” Mikasa murmured, stroking the soft fur with genuine delight. “It was my childhood dream…” She lifted Claws slightly, marveling. “He’s so big.” 

Y/N smiled at the sight but soon noticed something odd—everyone else in the room was staring at her. 

She turned slightly, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of their collective gaze. 

“Uh… hi?” she offered with a hesitant grimace. 

Jean straightened up, puffing his chest out slightly. “We’re Captain Levi’s Special Operations Squad,” he announced, the title rolling off his tongue with pride, as if it should impress her. 

Sasha muttered, “Are you flexing?” 

But before Jean could retort, Y/N cut in, “Oh, you’re Levi’s kids.” 

Silence. 

Jean and Connie visibly deflated, their supposed prestigious position reduced to children in an instant. 

“Yes, hi—I’m Armin,” the blond quickly stepped forward, almost extending a hand before deciding against it. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N,” she replied. 

“Yes. We know.” 

The awkwardness thickened as she realized they all knew who she was, but she had no idea about them. 

“I know you,” Y/N suddenly blurted. “You’re the hallway girl!” 

“Yeah! Sasha!” The brunette grinned. “They didn’t believe me when I said I saw you—you vanished into thin air!” 

Y/N chuckled. “Levi was in a hurry.” 

Armin smirked but quickly winced when Mikasa subtly nudged him, as if to keep him from saying anything else. 

“And you,” Y/N continued, shifting her gaze, “you’re the training ground boy. You dropped the equipment.” 

Laughter erupted from Connie and Sasha as Jean clenched his jaw, looking deeply unamused. 

“…Yeah. Jean.” 

Y/N’s attention drifted, taking in the massive industrial kitchen. “I was actually wondering—who do I ask for a tea?” 

The room fell silent. The squad exchanged glances before, hesitantly, Jean raised his hand like a student answering a question. 

“I… could make one?” 

Y/N beamed. “Aw, thank you!” 

Jean blinked. “…Just, uh… give me a sec.” 

“So… do I have to make the damn tea or not?” Jean whispered, his voice barely audible as the group huddled together in a loose circle of conspiracy, all while Y/N inspected the kitchen behind them. 

Armin, glancing over his shoulder at her with furrowed brows, was the first to break the silence. “I’ve heard that in the MPs, cadets are assigned mundane tasks for their superiors, like picking up their dry cleaning. Maybe she thinks that’s how the Scouts operate too.” 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time talking about the MPs lately, huh, Armin?” Connie teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

Armin flushed crimson, his brows knitting together in defense. “What? What do you mean?” 

“You know what we mean,” Sasha chimed in, barely stifling a laugh. 

Jean rolled his eyes, exasperated. “You’re all missing the point. Do I make the damn tea or not?” 

“No,” Eren said flatly, as if the answer were obvious. “Maybe the MPs do this babysitting crap, but we don’t. We’re not the Military Police, and we’re definitely not her personal servants. Just tell her to make her own damn tea.” 

“Maybe she just isn’t used to our kitchen,” Mikasa offered, her tone more considerate as she glanced at Y/N. 

“Let’s just tell her—very subtly—” 

Armin’s attempt at diplomacy was cut off by Jean, who groaned loudly. “That’s not what I mean! I’m asking what the chain of command is when a wife shows up!” 

The Shiganshina trio collectively raised an eyebrow, their faces a mixture of disbelief and judgment. 

“What chain of command?” Eren asked, crossing his arms. “She’s not a soldier. She doesn’t give us orders.” 

Jean snorted. “Yeah, well, maybe you don’t remember how households work, but my dad never had the last word in our house—ever.” 

Armin placed a calming hand on Eren, who looked ready to take offense. “Jean, come on,” Armin said gently, though his expression clearly showed he thought the question was absurd. 

“No, no, Horse Face is right,”  

Jean’s brief moment of smug satisfaction was immediately shattered. “OI! Watch it, potato brain!” 

Ignoring him, Connie continued, “Yeah, my dad couldn’t do anything without asking my mom first. It was always, ‘Did you ask your mother?’ or ‘What does your mother say?’ And nine times out of ten, my mom said no.” 

Sasha chimed in, nodding vigorously. “Yeah, my dad would act like he was in charge, but if my mom caught wind of something she didn’t like, he was dead meat.” 

Mikasa, listening quietly, finally murmured, “I remember... my mom was the one who made the decisions too.” 

Jean gestured wildly toward Sasha and Connie. “Exactly what I’m saying! If Captain Levi got married and now she’s the one giving him the dead-eye stare when she doesn’t like his decisions, where does that put her in the chain of command? Who’s higher in the chain of command: him or her?” 

“Her.” 

“Him.” 

“Captain Levi isn’t our dad, though,” Eren muttered, still trying to wrap his head around the logic. “Men are still the head of the house, so he’s still in charge. She’s not our boss.” 

“But if she gets mad and complains to Captain Levi, and he takes it out on us, then what?” Sasha pointed out. “We’re screwed either way.” 

“Exactly,” Armin said, nodding gravely. “If we don’t do what she wants, she’ll complain, and Captain Levi will get pissed. If we don’t follow his orders, he’ll punish us directly. It’s a lose-lose situation.” 

The group fell silent, clearly no closer to an agreement. Mikasa broke the tension with a hesitant question. “So… would that mean if Commander Erwin got married, his wife would have outrank all of us?” 

Connie snickered. “Why not Commander Hange’s imaginary wife instead?” 

“Be realistic,” Eren muttered. 

As their bickering continued, Y/N stood by, watching them with growing confusion. ‘Maybe they’re busy working,’ she thought, eyeing the kettle that no one had touched. ‘Levi said not to interrupt them while they’re working.’ 

“Don’t worry about it, guys,” she finally announced. “I’ll just go for a walk instead.” 

The group froze. Six pairs of eyes turned toward her in unison, panic flashing across their faces. Armin forced a sympathetic smile. “W-Where are you going?” 

Y/N blinked, startled by their sudden interest. “I thought I’d take a stroll in the forest…” 

Back in their circle, the squad exchanged panicked glances. One by one, they shifted closer to the kitchen door, as if preparing to block her path. Jean, quick on his feet, plastered on a bright smile and stepped in front of her. 

“Eh?” she asked, tilting her head. 

“Haha, look at the time!” Jean said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why don’t you stay here for a little while longer?” 

“I want to go out,” she insisted, her brow furrowing as she tried to move past him. “If you’ll excuse me—” 

“Uh, maybe… maybe stay here while we, um…” Sasha stammered, desperately searching for the right words. 

Y/N’s eyes widened as her unease turned into alarm. “Are you... are you kidnapping me?” 

“No, no, no!” they all shouted in unison, waving their hands in frantic denial. 

“You’re not kidnapped,” Armin assured her, his sweet smile doing little to ease her nerves. “You’re just... um... confined for now.” 

Her face twisted into horror. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, NOT AGAIN!” 

— 

When Hange walked back into the office, Levi was already up, slamming a stack of papers together. 

“Leaving so early?” 

“Yeah. I should really go train the brats after lunch.” 

The only brown eye not covered lingered on him, their lips twitching as they held back a remark. Hange, leaning back in their chair with an all-too-knowing smirk, tilted their head. “Oh sure, I bet the fresh air will help with the headache.” 

Levi exhaled sharply, unconvinced. Tucking the papers under his arm, he turned to leave—only to freeze at the door. Slowly, he turned back, narrowing his eyes as Hange spun lazily in their chair, still smirking. 

“…What?” 

“I said absolutely nothing.” 

His squinted in suspicion. “You’re so fucking weird.” 

The moment he stepped outside, something felt… off. 

The usual background noise of cadets moving between tasks was there, but underneath it, hushed murmurs—giggling. 

Giggling. 

Levi’s pace slowed as he glanced around. Small groups of soldiers spoke among themselves, some pressing hands to their mouths, others grinning. But what truly set his nerves on edge was what happened when they noticed him. 

Suddenly, as if on cue, they snapped to attention and beamed. 

“Good morning, Captain!” 

A perfectly polite, perfectly innocent greeting. 

Too innocent. 

“Morning,” he replied curtly. Levi narrowed his eyes but kept walking, his boots clicking sharply against the stone path. 

The tension in his gut twisted tighter when he passed another group and, again, the moment they saw him—bright smiles, too chipper, too eager. 

Something was going on. 

His grip flexed at his sides, his headache worsening as he rounded the corner toward the mess hall. And then— 

“Good morning, sir!” 

He barely glanced at the cadet who greeted him, about to walk past when— 

“Your wife is very cute, sir.” 

Levi stopped. 

The air suddenly felt much heavier. 

His eyes flickered to the girl, who gave him an innocent, approving nod before carrying on, completely unaware that she had just turned his entire morning into a waking nightmare. 

A slow, sinking realization crept up his spine. 

The whispers. The giggles. The weird smiling. 

"For fuck’s sake..." Levi whispered, raising a hand to his face, already feeling the embarrassment creeping in. 

Her trail wasn’t hard to follow—he just had to go wherever the biggest crowd had gathered. Sure enough, he found them in the kitchen, the one place most cadets usually avoided to escape extra duties. Yet, now, everyone was hanging around like it was the goddamn market square. 

"Don’t you all have something better to do?" Levi spat, and like cockroaches when the light comes on, they scrambled, trying to make themselves scarce before they got dragged into something. "Or do I need to start handing out tasks?" 

A few murmured "No, sir," their heads ducking, backs curving as if making themselves smaller would save them from his wrath. 

Then, from the other side of the door— 

"HE SAID I COULD GO OUT!" 

A piercing scream from Y/N. 

Levi’s brows twitched as he marched over, shoving the door open. "What the hell is going on here?" 

"Levi!" "Captain!" 

The second he stepped in, everyone started talking at once, loudly, voices overlapping and stabbing at his already-pounding head. 

Levi clenched his jaw. "Enough." His voice came out sharp, cold. 

Silence fell instantly. 

"They’re forcing me to stay here!" Y/N snapped, pointing at his squad. "They kidnapped me!" 

Slowly, Levi turned his attention to his subordinates and muttered under his breath, "What part of 'act normal and behave' did you not understand?" 

"She wants to go into the forest alone," Jean cut in, standing his ground. 

That successfully shifted Levi’s attention. 

"Get to the training grounds," he ordered, not bothering to look back at them. "I’ll be there in a minute." 

The squad practically bolted, shutting the door behind them. 

Now alone with her, Levi exhaled through his nose. Levi’s arms crossed over his chest, his sharp gaze locked onto her as she stood defiantly before him. 

“I did absolutely nothing wrong,” she huffed. 

“Oh yeah?” Levi drawled, his expression unreadable “Then why the hell is the entire regiment gathered outside?” 

She scoffed. “I don’t know, maybe they’ve got nothing better to do? I just greeted people in the hallways, that’s not illegal. What, saying hello is a crime now?” 

Levi exhaled sharply, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t need to be overly friendly.” 

“Well, excuse my good manners!” 

Levi’s eyes narrowed. “You already went out. You can go back to the office.” 

“I’m not doing that,” she folded her arms stubbornly. “I want to go for a walk.” 

His frown deepened. “You’re not going into the forest.” He sighed, his patience nearing its breaking point. 

“Why not?” 

“I don’t know, maybe wolves?” he deadpanned. “Perhaps people, thieves? You’re going to get lost.” 

“Well, I’ll stay close by.” 

Levi let out a scoff. “We use the forest for training with the 3DMG. We don’t live in the middle of it for pleasure. If someone drops a weapon or knocks off and you get hurt, it’s on me. I told you—this is a place where people are working.” 

Her jaw clenched. “I don’t want to be closed up in that room anymore.” 

He gave her a look, calm but firm. "Open a window." 

“Open a—?! Levi, I’m not a prisoner!” she snapped, frustration boiling over. 

“Never said you were,” he shot back. “But this ain’t a damn vacation spot either.” 

She groaned, rubbing her temples. Then, as if on cue, Claws meowed from her arms, reminding Levi of another problem. 

“And don’t take the cat out without a leash,” he added. “It’s gonna get lost, and guess what? The idiot who’ll have to go looking for it in the forest will be me.” 

“He’s not gonna run off,” she insisted. 

Levi ignored that. “Go back to the office and—I don’t know, paint something.” 

She let out a short, disbelieving laugh, eyes burning with indignation. “I’m not a little girl you can just set back to colouring books, Levi!” 

He was already opening his mouth for another snarky retort when something made him pause. His nose twitched slightly. It caught him so off guard to catch a whiff of her scent that all the arguments disappeared. 

How had it ended up with him standing there, watching the cadets train with the 3DMG while she sat on a bench outside, having lunch? He had no idea. 

"You’re not hungry?" 

"I grabbed something at work," he replied, his eyes still glued to the training. 

She passed him her meal, her hand covering her mouth a little before asking, "What are you doing?" 

"Watching them train." 

Her eyes shifted to the trees, watching the cadets swing through them with ease. "That’s all?" she asked, confused. 

Levi crossed his arms and took a deep breath. "I watch their patterns and correct them." 

"Ah," she sighed in understanding. "So, you’re good at that?" 

"At 3DMG?" Levi raised an eyebrow as if it wasn’t obvious. She hummed a response. "Yeah, a little." 

Y/N accepted this without giving it much thought, continuing with her art, cleaning her hands every so often to avoid staining the sketch. "Which one is Eren?" 

He wasn’t used to the chitchat during work, so it threw him off each time she spoke. "The brunette. Why?" 

"I read about him in the newspapers," Y/N replied, raising her attention from her work to compare her pencil strokes. She squinted at it for a moment. "I also read about you torturing someone. It didn’t do you any favours." 

"Your newspapers didn’t mention the MPs covering up the real monarchy?" 

"No, my parents didn’t buy that kind of newspaper." 

Her answer made him scoff, entertained, realizing she probably meant it without any opposition to the new head of power. 

He tried following her gaze, wondering what she was working on so intently. But he couldn’t make sense of it. "What are you drawing?" Levi tilted back to catch a glimpse of the paper. 

Without a hint of hesitation, she turned her sketchbook around to show him. "You." 

Levi froze in horror, a cringe creeping up his spine. 

"Don’t fucking draw me." 

"Why not? You have a good side profile." 

"Draw something else. You’ve got the whole fucking forest." Levi insisted, but when he saw her uninterested continuation, he grabbed the pencil from her hand. 

"Hey!" she pouted. "Give it back." 

"Maybe you should go back to the office. Plenty of pencils there," Levi shot, hoping to put an end to this nonsense of her hanging around outside. 

There was a brief silence before she stood up. "Fine… but only because I’m getting sunburned." She reached down, picking up the cat that had been wandering around on a leash. "I’m taking the baby." Her tone made it sound like they were in the middle of a divorce settlement, negotiating custody. 

"Better for me." 

As the sun dipped lower and training came to an end, Levi took the opportunity to address the cadets. "When I tell you to do something, just do it. If she tries anything, I’ll handle it. Don’t get involved." 

They all nodded slowly, though Connie hesitantly raised a hand. 

Levi exhaled sharply. "What?" 

Armin shook his head, silently warning Connie to drop it, but the he didn’t take the hint. "We were just… a bit confused." 

Levi’s patience was wearing dangerously thin. "Confused about what?" 

"Just drop it, dude," Jean whispered. 

But under the captain’s intense stare, there was no backing out now. Connie swallowed hard. "About… who has the final say." 

Levi processed the words, taking a slow moment to let the implication sink in. Then, his voice carried loud and clear: "Raise your hand if you think she’s in charge." 

Shakily, Sasha and Connie obeyed. After a sharp kick from Eren, Jean reluctantly raised his hand too, clicking his tongue in annoyance. 

They all avoided Levi’s dead-eyed stare, suddenly finding the gravel beneath their boots fascinating. 

Levi let the silence drag before finally speaking, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why don’t the three of you give me twenty push-ups to help jog your memory on who’s actually in charge?" 

Groans of protest echoed through the training grounds, the evening sky now tinged with warm tangerine light. 

Eren smirked proudly at Armin, as if they had somehow passed some kind of test. Levi glanced at them. "And the three of you who didn’t stop this bullshit? Another twenty." 

"Oh, fuck me," they all muttered under their breath. 

— 

That night, Levi was washing his face at the sink when he caught movement in the doorway. He looked up, eyes meeting hers in the reflection. "What?" 

"I want to go to Trost the day after tomorrow." 

Levi frowned, still bent over the sink, before slowly straightening up. "And who told you I was going to Trost?" 

"The cadets." 

Grabbing a towel, he patted his face dry. "No." 

"Why not?" she asked, following him as he moved to the bedroom after his post-training shower. 

Levi hated being chased around, but clearly, she wasn’t letting this one go. "Because I said so," Levi muttered, pulling a shirt from the drawer. His damp hair pushed backwards and still dripping a little bit. "I’m just going for a quick business deal with the Reiss company. In and out." 

"But since you’re already going, I want to go and walk around," she insisted. "The cadets want to go too." 

Slamming the drawer shut, he sighed. "What they want is none of my damn problem." 

Under normal circumstances, she would have minded seeing him shirtless, but right now, she was too annoyed by his attitude to care. Each pause he took in the argument to get dressed only added to her frustration. 

"First today, now Trost," Levi continued, slipping on the shirt. " I can’t be walking around with you glued to my side,"  

He braced himself for protests, whining, maybe even some outright complaining— But when he finally looked up, her eyes were glassy. 

Levi blinked. "What now?" 

‘Oh no. 

Not the fucking puppy eyes again.’ 

She hesitated, then whispered, "Are you… ashamed to be seen with me?" 

"No," he snapped instantly, raising a finger in the air. "That’s not what I fucking said." 

But she just shook her head and walked off toward the office, her head down. 

"Come on. You know that’s not what I meant," Levi called after her. 

No answer. 

"Y/N—" 

No answer. 

— 

The next morning at breakfast, Levi dropped into his seat with a scowl. "We’re going to Trost tomorrow." 

His squad erupted into cheers, high-fiving each other. 

"Tch. Fuck me," he muttered under his breath. 

Armin, ever the strategist, tilted his head. "May I ask why, sir?" 

Levi stabbed his fork into his food. "Because she wants to go." 

Across the table, Sasha leaned toward Connie and Jean, whispering, "I’m confused... so, in the end, who is actually in charge?" 

(I know much didn't happen in this chapter but I promise you I'm cooking T-T)

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[tojisun]

oh but something vile with dbf!simon—

how you come to him the moment you finally fucked your boyfriend. you’re all giggly as you hop in his car, your cheeks all fever-warm.

simon hums, eyeing you with a quirked brow. “what’s got you all giddy?”

his hand drops to your thigh, clamping down until your skin’s all dimpled underneath his touch. he goes back to the road, his car revving amidst the silence, and you almost want to lie and hide what happened but his grip is already tightening up and you huff, concealing the way you feel so pleased with being read so easily by him.

“kenny’s roommates were away so we finally got to fuck,” you reply, chirping, eyes trained to the blurring road to avoid simon’s reaction.

there was nothing from the older man, his silence stretching on, and you feel the beginnings of a pout forming on your lips because you were so sure he’d break. but simon just drives on, exiting out of the highway and into the familiar roads leading to your place.

you bite the inside of your lips, eyes furrowing in your frustration because fuck simon—

then the car jolts, sending you careening to the window. you yelp, scrambling, trying to catch where simon is going, and your confusion only grows when you see that he’s suddenly pulled into an empty parking lot.

“si—”

there’s a flurry of action—the engine dying, the car stilling, and simon pulling you towards him using your shirt before hot lips latch on yours. the kiss is messy, all nipping teeth and snarled grunts, and you giggle, heady, melting into him.

it drags on; lips smacking together, moans filtering out. it is desperate, and not one he’s ever done before. it’s addicting—this simon that is spurred by his jealousy—and god you want more.

he pulls away with a growl. simon’s still dragging his lips along your jaw when he murmurs, “who’s a better fuck, love? me or your new toy?”

you roll your eyes, pushing him back. god, he’s so predictable—he pulls away every time your dad’s back home from a business trip like by doing so, simon’s absolved; and then running back to you the moment you show interest in someone else.

still, the predictability is what’s fun.

“i don’t even remember yours anymore, mr. riley,” you reply, humming.

it’s a deliberate taunt, you know, but one that simon easily folds into—his eyes go dark, domineering, before reaching forward to cup your jaw. his thumb presses flat on your lips.

“then, won’t you let me remind you?”

your eyes narrow, victory singing in your blood. you give him a shy nod.

“good,” simon rasps out, already pleased. “let’s move you to the backseat, yeah?”

“okay,” you reply, your voice a shy whisper.

you might have to text kenny after this.