#snk fanfiction

[ackerink]

arguing with levi and he just ends up pulling you into a hug, he know you two won't always agree or get along, even as a couple but the last thing he wants to do is put distance in between you both. "i'm sorry," he says, kissing your shoulder. "we shouldn't argue-i don't want us to grow apart." it's a somewhat surprising display of vulnerability, his eyes are sad, tired and so are yours.

embracing him back, you nod—smelling the soapy scent on his skin. "i'm sorry too." you whisper into his ear, also smelling a faint scent of aftershave. "i love you, levi." the hug grows tighter, pulling your chest closer to his. "i love you too." he sighs.

[reinerreney]

AOT ACTOR AU! x MAKE-UP ARTIST!READER

This AU will be a series! Btw, this is my first post on this blog >< I've seen a lot of AOT ACTOR AU fanart, and here I am! KSKSK. So, here is the first post of this series. Enjoy <3

Scene: Doing their make-up while they stare at you. Like damn.

ERWIN SMITH

𝖠𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾.

"𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽," 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗆��𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 (𝖮𝖬𝖥𝖦)

"𝖶𝖾𝗅𝗅," 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽, "𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾," 𝖽𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄. "𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇, 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅."

𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗅𝖾𝖽. "𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝖾𝗍, 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖨'𝗆 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄."

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾.

LEVI ACKERMAN

𝖫𝖾𝗏𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾. 𝖠𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗒𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀.

"𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀?" 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽, 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐.

"𝖭𝗈." 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍, 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄, 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒.

EREN YEAGER

𝖤𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗃𝗈𝖻 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁����𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇, 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝖺𝗐𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾.

"𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗉𝗎𝗍, 𝖤𝗋𝖾𝗇," 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝖽.

𝖧𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝖾𝖽, 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖽𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌. "𝖲-𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒."

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗀𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍.

JEAN KIRSTEIN (MY BBY)

𝖩𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁… 𝖸𝖾𝖺-

"𝖣𝖺𝗆𝗇, 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾," 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽.

𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽. "𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝖨 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺."

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁. "𝖲𝗁𝗎𝗍 𝗎𝗉, 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗇."

𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄.

REINER BRAUN

𝖱𝖾��𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍-𝖾𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗎𝗉 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄𝖻𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌.

"𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌," 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽, 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝖾. "𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗌," 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽. 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾.

𝖧𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, "𝖣𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈𝗈? 𝗂 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄… 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐. 𝖦𝗈𝗈𝖽."

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽, 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. "𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅, 𝖡𝗋𝖺𝗎𝗇."

𝖧𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽.

ARMIN ARLERT

𝖠𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗅. 𝖠𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅.

"𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌," 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽. "𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀."

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝖽. "𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗃𝗈𝖻, 𝖠𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇."

"𝖸𝖾𝖺𝗁, 𝖻𝗎𝗍… 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖨 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽."

"𝖧𝗎𝗁-"

𝖧𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒.

ZEKE YEAGER (HIS ALSO FINE SO LEMME COOK)

𝖹𝖾𝗄𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾. 𝖠𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

"𝖢𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅, 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍," 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽. "𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺."

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽, "𝖩𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾. 𝖨𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄."

𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽. "𝖦𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋."

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄.

Bertholdt Hoover

𝖡𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗉 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗎𝗉.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒?” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒.

𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽. “𝖸𝖾𝖺𝗁. 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍… 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌.”

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝖽. “𝖱𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗑. 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖾.”

𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁.

PORCO GALLIARD

𝖴𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅, 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽.

"𝖯𝗈𝗋𝖼𝗈, 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀," 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗎𝗋.

𝖧𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅—𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽. "𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗎𝗉?"

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐. "𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍."

𝖧𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽, 𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒. "𝖥𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗋."

"𝖴𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗋?"

"𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍."

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖽, 𝗍𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁. "𝖥𝗅𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌. 𝖭𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅, 𝖦𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗈𝗋 𝖨'𝗆 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗇."

CONNIE SPRINGER

𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁—𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒. 𝖠𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖺𝖻𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

“𝖲𝗈, 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋?” 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽, 𝗐𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗌.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. “𝖭𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝖭𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀.”

“𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋,” 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽. “𝖩𝖾𝖺𝗇’𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗒, 𝖱𝖾𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗍𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖫𝖾𝗏𝗂 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀.”

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽. “𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝖾𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗃𝗈𝖻 𝗂𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎.”

𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽, “𝖦𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖨 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎.”

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁. “𝖲𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁, 𝖲𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋. 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁.”

𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒. “𝖮𝗐. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖾.”

“𝖪𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅.”

𝖧𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎. “𝖳𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍.”

[zraiusxo]

♡ hi! i'm so sorry this took so long, i've just been super busy with this week's finals i completely forgot! but, thanks for waiting so patiently, I'll be tending to the other requests soon. ^^

♡ if you want a tag for the next part, just comment asking for a tag :p

A Game of Composure ,, Older Hange Zoë x Younger Fem!reader (3)

The invitation arrived in an elegant envelope, the kind embossed with gold lettering and weighty enough to suggest importance.

Y/N L/N had expected it. Erwin Smith was nothing if not persistent in his networking endeavors, and his belief in her potential as a future lawyer meant he was always seeking ways to broaden her circle of influence.

This time, it was a formal business banquet—an opportunity to forge connections with the city’s most powerful legal and corporate figures.

This was Y/N's opportunity to meet powerful people. This was her chance to brand herself as a law student with an undeniably bright future ahead of her in high society. She couldn't afford to waste this.

—

The banquet hall was a vision of opulence—high ceilings adorned with chandeliers, crisp white tablecloths, and the quiet hum of classical music beneath the murmur of sophisticated conversation.

Waiters weaved through the guests, silver trays balancing glasses of champagne and finely arranged hors d’oeuvres.

Y/N made her entrance purposefully, pairs of curious eyes flickering onto her figure upon getting a whiff of her intoxicating perfume, turning heads as she stepped forward.

She was dressed in an elegantly fitted black dress, sleek in its simplicity yet commanding in its effect. The fabric sculpted her figure with refined precision, the halter neckline lending an air of sophistication while the open-back design added an edge of quiet seduction.

Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor as she moved through the crowd, posture effortless, her gaze sharp.

And, as expected, she drew attention.

Men—businessmen, corporate lawyers, high-ranking executives—took notice almost immediately. Some subtle, others obvious. It was something she was used to. Power attracted power, after all, and she had long since learned how to navigate it.

She accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter, offering a polite nod to Erwin, who had already begun introducing her to influential figures. He smirked knowingly, pleased at the effect she had on the room.

What she didn’t expect, however, was the pair of menacing dark brown eyes watching her from across the banquet.

—

Hange Zoë had no business being irritated. They were aware of this.

It had been a month—thirty-two days, to be exact—since they last spoke. And in that time, they had found themselves thinking about Y/N more than they cared to admit. About her charming wit, her confidence, the way she wielded intelligence like a finely honed blade.

And now, here she was. Stunning, composed, effortlessly in command of every man’s attention in the room.

Hange swirled their drink absent-mindedly, watching from the shadows of polite conversation as yet another businessman leaned in toward Y/N, clearly enraptured.

They had never seen her in this particular setting before—among those who sought to impress rather than challenge her. It was… frustrating.

She was entertaining them, but not engaged.

Hange could see it in the way her lips curled at the corners, polite but impersonal.

In the way she nodded, listening but unimpressed.

It was the same mask she wore at intellectual gatherings, the same calculated presence she used to disarm people.

It was infuriating that these men thought they were captivating her.

And perhaps, most infuriating of all, was the possibility that one of them actually might.

—

“Doll face.”

Y/N turned at the familiar voice, her expression shifting only slightly before she took a sip of her wine. “Dr. Zoë,” she greeted smoothly. “I wasn’t aware you’d be attending.”

Hange tilted their head, expression unreadable. “Neither were you, it seems.”

She didn’t respond immediately, instead letting her gaze flicker over them. Hange had dressed formally—atypical, but undeniably striking.

Their suit was sharp, tailored, but still slightly disheveled in the way only they could pull off. A loosened tie, sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the veins along their forearms. The glasses they wore only added to the effect.

Y/N raised a brow. “You clean up well.”

“Funny,” Hange said, voice low, “I was about to say the same about you.”

She hummed. “What stopped you?”

Hange took a sip of their drink, gaze lingering. “Too many people have already told you tonight. Didn’t want to add to the noise.”

Y/N hummed. “And yet, here you are. Contributing.”

Hange exhaled a quiet laugh. “Touché.”

—

The businessmen who had been speaking to Y/N lingered nearby, clearly hesitant to leave. Hange noted them with mild disdain before turning back to her.

“I didn’t realize businessmen were your type.”

Y/N’s red-stained lips twitched, the corners of her lips lifting. “I wasn’t aware I had a type.”

Hange leaned in slightly, just enough to invade her space. “You certainly have their attention.”

“Do I?” she murmured, looking up at them despite wearing heels. “And here I thought you weren’t one to notice these things.”

Hange’s gaze darkened, unnoticeable behind their thick rimmed glasses, but it was impossible to miss the way their voice dropped an octave. “I notice a lot of things.”

The air between them thickened, charged. Y/N tilted her head, watching them closely with piercing eyes. “You sound… irritated.”

Hange exhaled sharply, stepping even closer. Their voice was lower now, rougher. “It’s fascinating.”

“What is?”

“The way you command attention. The way you pretend you don’t enjoy it.”

Y/N held their gaze. “And what makes you think I’m pretending?”

Hange’s fingers brushed her wrist lightly—a fleeting touch, deliberate. “Because you’re not interested in them.”

She let the silence stretch, parting her lips a second too long before finally speaking. “And who,” she murmured, “do you think I am interested in?”

Hange smirked, slow and knowing. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Before she could respond, the businessman from earlier returned, clearing his throat. “Miss L/N, I was wondering if you’d like to—”

“I’m afraid she’s occupied,” Hange interrupted smoothly, not even glancing at him.

Y/N arched a brow but said nothing as the man hesitated, watching the blonde-haired man begrudgingly excused himself.

Hange turned back to her, satisfaction evident in their brown eyes. “Much better.”

Y/N exhaled a quiet laugh. “Was that necessary?”

“Absolutely.”

She studied them with narrowed eyes, watching their gaze drift down her form before quickly flickering back up to her eyes. “Are you jealous, Dr. Zoë?”

Hange didn’t blink. “Very.”

Y/N chuckled—slow and knowing.

“Well then,” she murmured, finishing her wine without breaking eye contact, “I suppose I’ll allow it.”

Hange chuckled, shaking their head in an attempt to hide the red that crept up their cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” she echoed their words from earlier.

Hange sighed, a rueful grin pulling at their lips. “God help me.”

And then, for the first time that evening, Y/N allowed herself a genuine smile.

Because, despite everything, she had missed them too.

♡ you've reached the end! thanks so much for reading, i appreciate the comments you left on my precious post! this was super rushed but i hope you enjoy reading this, thank you. :3

♡ oh forgot to say but i'll try to continue this as soon as i have time to spare. :'>

[marleys-freak]

• pairing: zeke x gn!reader

• synopsis: he is sad, exhausted, and in dire need of a cuddle [fluff + bit of angst]

• cw: none

• word count: 470

You never liked it when Zeke kicked his boots off and immediately crawled into bed next to you still in the clothes he wore to go out, it felt unhygienic, you wished he took his jacket off at least. Yet you never had the heart to tell him to stop.

Tonight was no different.

Instead of scolding Zeke, you embraced him and bowed your head to bury your face into his golden hair. The strands tickled your nose and cheeks but even so, it was immensely comforting to finally feel his gentle powdery scent cut with the lingering smell of cigarettes. Zeke came back to you, unharmed, again.

Your hand quickly settled into a relaxing rhythm as your nails occasionally scraped against his scalp while combing through the tangles in his hair. It was always so soft.

It's not like you were officially together, this was a strange nightly ritual of yours, a bizarre routine you mutually fell into without ever really addressing it. It just somehow...happened. An unspoken shared habit; he'd come to you at the end of each day to be held and spoken to, in truth sometimes he almost reminded you of a little boy who just had a nightmare, seeking solace in his parent's arms, as opposed to a war chief.

Despite his demeanour in public, his soul always seemed to be helplessly trailing around, as if he had a perpetual deep yearning to belong to someone, a longing that even he wasn't fully aware of.

"At least take your glasses off, they'll get bent out of shape if you keep falling asleep in them."

Before you could finish your sentence, your hand was already moving to gently remove them from his face and place them on the bedside table with the quietest clink. You were convinced Zeke was feigning forgetfulness because he wanted you to take them off for him; probably because every time you did so, afterwards you'd carefully massage the area behind his ear where the temple tips of his glasses sat all day.

Zeke made a small noise denoting satisfaction every time he felt your thumb soothingly rub that small patch of skin. It was something so trivial, but perhaps that's why it mattered to him.

Once the glasses were off, he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, and within a few minutes you could tell he was starting to breathe deeper, by the small puffs of air against your skin becoming less frequent and more even.

"Rest, Zeke. You needn't worry about a thing, not now."

Maybe you never stopped him from crawling into your bed like this is because even though both of you tried to ignore it, his term was coming to an end soon. You had to hold him while you could and savour every moment.

[peachdues]

Levi Ackerman can and will blow your back out, but he’s also the type to lean in and press his lips hard against your forehead when you’re in the middle cumming so prettily for him.

He has your legs bent and nearly pinned to your ribs beneath the solid mass of his body. His arms are braced on either side of your head, one hand loosely fisted into your hair to make sure you keep your eyes on him and him alone. Every bit of his weight bears down into you, and it strikes you that between the fullness you feel from his cock and the pressure of his body against yours means there is no part of you that isn’t being thoroughly and completely consumed by him.

He curls one arm over your head, caging you in against the pillow while the other shoves between your sweat-slickened bodies. You think he means to play with your clit, but instead his hand presses firmly against your lower stomach as he continues hammering into you, allowing the blunt head of his cock to push repeatedly against that spot deep within that makes your vision turn white and your toes curl.

“There you are — oh,” he smirks at how you begin trembling beneath him, and the vibrations of your body only magnify as he rubs his hand in time with each hard grind of his hips as his cock continues bullying deeper and deeper into your soaking heat. “That’s the spot, huh, pretty girl?”

His smug, mocking smirk is a front; you know it by the way the muscles in his shoulders tense, signaling he’s summoning every bit of his own will power to fight off his own release, far too invested in savoring yours.

You’re also trying to hold on, and he knows that; he can sense it in the way your nails bite into his back, can see it in how your teeth sink into your plump bottom lip.

You want to cum — badly. And he’s more than eager to see you fall apart.

A growl, low and possessive builds in his throat. “Go on then — be a good girl and give me what I want.”

He gives another sharp, pointed thrust of his hips, burying himself all the way to his hilt before grinding against you, hard. “Let go,” he orders, his voice firmer and you know the leash he has on his own restraint is rapidly fraying.

Levi exhales a quiet swear of relief when he feels your cunt finally seize around him like a vice, and he is transfixed by broken staccato of his name that falls from your pretty lips as your climax washes over you like a wave. A surge of pride wells in his chest at how you manage to keep your eyes locked with his, even though he knows your instinct is to let them roll back into your head as you float among the clouds of pleasured bliss only until he can reach in and haul you back down to earth.

“Atta girl,” he coos, and the pace of his hips slow from those relentless, bruising thrusts to a gentle canting, each roll into your heat deep and purposeful. Then, he feels a surge of your wetness gush over him, dampening the coarse hairs of his base as the walls of your cunt continue to flutter and pulse around him, and Levi somehow finds himself becoming even more smitten with you than he already is. “Oh — it’s a big one, isn’t it?”

And when you look up at him with those big eyes of yours — wide and sparkling with tears of pleasure and exhaustion- and you nod, lower lip quivering, Levi can’t help but lean forward to press his lips to your forehead, as he continues fucking you through your high.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your damp forehead, his groin churning torturously against yours. “Good fucking girl, cumming for me like this.”

Each grind of his coarse base right against your clit sends sparks additional waves of electrifying pleasure rocking through you until your legs are twitching and spasming beneath him. But Levi only chuckles, the sound dark and rich and so distinctly him.

He continues to guide you through the dizzying ripples of your orgasm, and when the last, gentle wave flickers out like a candle flame, Levi imparts one, final kiss against your forehead.

And then he pulls back, but he is not finished — no where near it, in fact. One by one, your legs are pushed over his shoulders until your knees are pressed to your chest, and his lips curl into something between a grin and a sneer.

He leans down and presses his mouth to the shell of your ear, and you’re not sure whether it’s the heat or his breath or the severity of his promise that sends an excited chill down your spine as he hisses, “My turn.”

Banners from @/benkei-bear!

[co-psycho]

Armin Arlert twitter links

a/n: enjoy!!

Don’t forget to leave request :)

Riding then jerking him off

Armin eating you out

Armin praising your body

Dry humping

Pumping himself in your pussy

Sitting on his face

Jerking him off as he becomes a moaning mess

Rough pussy eating

Armin trying to gain your attention

Dry humping pt 2

Face fucking

Armin teasing you with his fingers

Squirting on his fingers

Rough cream pie

Playing with your clit, while fucking you

Slow passionate sex

[amywritesthings]

care. / a levi period comfort fic

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader word count: 1.4k summary: You have to skip your gym date with Levi due to bad period cramps. Levi, however, isn't going to let you suffer alone.

note: set in the press four for more options / dating on airplane mode universe tags: modern au, neighbors au, menstruation, cramp pain, period talk, doting new boyfriend levi, fluff, adult language, reader has a chronic pms pain

author note: today is my birthday!! my gift to you is this little P4/DOAP one shot. this is a little self indulgent, so i hope this helps anyone else that experiences bad pains like me! i will be writing one shots all month for my endo awareness event, so feel free to send requests if you would like to see more! credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

( Read on AO3. )

You know as soon as you wake up what kind of day it’s going to be.

As you stir from slumber, you’re met with the familiar, unforgiving punch to the gut before you take your first deep inhale. The sharp jab is a tell-tale sign that you should have probably hit the pharmacy when you had the time during your lunch break — yesterday.

You know, before things got awful.

“God damn it.”

Periods have always been a sore spot to discuss in your life. The immense pain that follows the next agonizing few days is not a new occurrence, but knowing them intimately never makes them any better. No matter how many times you’ve prepared, weathered, endured — it’s a gamble whether or not you have the energy to eat today, much less do anything productive.

Dragging your phone off of the adjacent nightstand, your heart sinks when you see your most recent notifications:

Alarm set for 7:30 a.m. (Dismiss?)

Remember to pay credit card bill. (Eventually.)

New text from Levi Ackerman.

Shit.

Opening the third notification first, you read his text from five minutes ago.

[LEVI:] Hey. Still going to the gym this morning?

Self hatred floods your system when you realize there’s no way in hell you’re going to be going to the gym today, much less leaving this apartment. It’ll be a miracle if you can drag yourself to the bathroom.

Missing out on seeing Levi today hurts more than you’re willing to admit.

Tapping the reply bubble, you type in response:

[ME:] Sorry, not feeling well. :( Rain check?

It’s weird to confess why, right?

Everything is way too fresh, much too new, between the two of you.

You can’t burden your newest partner with the—

Another notification pops up immediately.

[LEVI:] What’s wrong?

Double shit.

Sighing to yourself, you type back, hesitate, then send.

[ME:] Don’t worry about it, it’s pretty embarrassing. I probably won’t be able to leave the apartment today. I’m rooting you on from down here!

Or up here, technically, if he’s going to be at the gym.

(Dumbass.)

You drop your phone to your mattress, slowly easing yourself out of bed. You check the sheets behind you to make sure you didn’t ruin them — thank god, there’s a singular win for this morning — before waddling to the bathroom.

Grabbing a new pair of underwear and a pad, you sit on the toilet with your head in your hands, taking some time to breathe through the initial cramps.

A few days.

Just a few days and you can—

It’s faint, but you hear it.

Three raps at your front door.

Knock, knock, knock.

Perking your head up, your brows furrow as you finish up, tug your pajama bottoms back on, and wash your hands. Crossing the living room to the front door, you use the peephole to see who’s waiting outside.

For the briefest moment, you forget your cramps altogether.

“Levi?!” you yelp, shocked by his presence.

“Hey,” he states, arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing his typical white workout tank, displaying his lean arms in the fisheye lens of your doorframe. “You okay in there?”

“I— yeah, I’m okay!” you lie, higher pitched than usual. “Sorry, I can’t let you in.”

You note how his chin tilts, contemplating your brevity. 

“You come down with some shitty cold or whatever?”

“No, it’s—”

“Stomach bug?”

“No, not at all, it’s just—”

“I can wear a mask if you got something catchable.” He shifts, thumbing back to the hallway behind him like he knows you’re watching. “I have a bunch at my place.”

“Levi, no,” you blurt, getting frustrated. “I have my period!”

The dark-haired man stops.

His brows furrow, contemplating with evident confusion on his face.

“...I’m confused, a period of what? Fucking dysentary or something?” When you’re about to argue, he pointedly glances at the peephole. “Can you at least open the door for a sec?”

Reluctantly you agree to his request, unlocking the door and swinging it open. You feel immense shame standing in front of your new boyfriend looking messy and make-up free.

There hasn’t even been time to at least put on some moisturizer, damn it.

When he finally sees you at your worst (or so you perceive to be your worst) he doesn’t even bat an eye.

The stormy grays just stare into your own, brows rising expectantly.

“What do you need?”

You lean against your doorframe, trying to breathe through another wave of cramps. “What?”

With a tsk, he steps a baited sneaker into the threshold of your apartment. When you don’t push him out, he fully enters your apartment and beelines to your kitchen.

(Right. Same layout, just a couple of floors higher.)

“Get comfy on the couch,” he states like he’s a coach again, devoid of nonsense. “You have any tea lying around?”

“I don’t understand,” you state, only then closing the door to your apartment. “You were about to go to the gym—”

“Yeah, and now I’m not.”

“Levi.”

“Couch,” he counters, plucking the kettle you had sitting dormant on your stovetop to fill it with water. “Or your bed, if that makes you more comfortable.”

You can’t really argue with that, not when your cramps are making you dizzy.

Hell, his insistence on helping is making you even dizzier but in an entirely different way.

When you dated Porco, he never extended help beyond some comforting words and a stray pint of ice cream. Levi looks natural rummaging around your kitchen as if he’s been spending time here for months.

“You really don’t have to babysit me,” you try to reason, though you find yourself slowly shambling towards your couch anyway. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, well, my mother used to have a lot of really bad months when I was growing up.” Levi starts the stove, heating up the water. His eyes briefly flicker to you. “My friend, Hange, doesn’t exactly have a walk in the park with this shit, either. They left an arsenal of supplies at my place whenever they come around. Can’t imagine they’ll care if I borrow some of it.”

So Levi has period supplies at his apartment for friends and family?

That…

You’ve never heard of any man who has something like that.

“Supplies like what?”

“Admittedly it’s a bunch of stuff we used to offer people at our gym in case they were having a rough week,” he explains as if this is nothing while he watches the kettle grow hot. 

Then again, periods are supposed to be nothing.

They’re natural and half of the planet go through them monthly, and yet —

“Heating pads, two different sizes. Mint and ginger tea are soothing for cramping. I’ve got a decently fresh stock of those leaves. Not sure if you’re out of sanitary products, but I got some of those in a cabinet, too.”

You stare dumbfounded, your heart skipping a beat.

(As if this man couldn’t be any more attractive.)

When you don’t respond, he turns around to look at you. His eyes soften as they search your face.

“I’d ask how your pain is right now, but I take it it’s high?” You nod. “Alright. Mind if I keep the door unlocked? I’ll run upstairs and grab everything.”

“You don’t have—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, but it isn’t firm like before.

Levi walks across the room towards you. As he bends at the hip, his dog tags slip out of his tank top.

Gentle lips press to the crown of your head.

“Let me take care of you, alright? You’re my girl. That’s my responsibility, especially when you’re feeling like shit. I can do push-ups anywhere. Gym’s not a necessity.”

Melting at his reassurance, you can’t help but tease. 

“So I get pampering and a show? Talk about high-class service.”

The lips on your head curve to a smirk before pulling away, his eyes meeting yours. His hand raises to cup the side of your face adoringly. An absentminded thumb strokes your cheek.

“Yeah, well, you know me. High fucking class or whatever.”

When you laugh, the corner of his mouth twitches again. He lifts your chin and leans forward, kissing your lips. You return the gesture, warmth spreading throughout your body.

“I’ll be five minutes,” he whispers against your lips.

“It only takes you five minutes to run up six flights of stairs and back?”

“You can time me if you think I’m lying.”

“Deal.”

[acmeangel]

♡ You're a member of Levi's Squad, and he asks you to marry him, when disaster strikes.

♡ SFW ♡ Canon!Levi x Fem!Reader ♡ One shot, a bit angsty, mentions of blood, injury, near-death experience ♡ Word count: 3019 ♡ Summary: After finally accepting that you're there to stay, Levi asks you to marry him. You're a member of his Squad, and being with him has always felt right. Not too long after, a dangerous scouting mission leaves you with a grave injury, and Levi is faced with the fear that you might not make it.

When Levi asked you to marry him, it wasn’t with some extravagant proposal or planned-out, grand romantic evening.

You both were lying in your bed in the barracks, your body half-draped on top of his, your fingers lazily playing with strands of his hair. His hands grazed up and down your back with a steady, soothing tempo.

You’d both returned from a scouting mission earlier that day — one with too many casualties, as there always seemed to be. Levi had recruited you to be on his Special Operations Squad years ago, based purely on your stats from previous missions with other squads. At first, he had respected you, much like he’d respected all of the members of Squad Levi; a group of people willing to join the riskiest regiment and put their lives on the line in the futile hope to save humanity.

Respect had eventually turned into friendship, which had then grown into something more. You two loved each other long before your romantic relationship had begun; so when it finally did, it felt natural, like it was always supposed to be that way.

In your bed, that night, he looked at you with a tender softness that bordered on melancholic. It was a look that he didn’t show often. His eyes revealed how deeply he cared for you, how much he wanted to shield you — who he saw as one of the last few truly good things left in this world — from the cruelty, violence, and destruction that ran rampant around you. It was a look that no one else ever got to see.

“I want to run something by you,” he stated, his voice level and smooth as ever.

“Oh, do tell, Captain.” You laughed, faintly, your eyes sparkling with a glint of amusement.

His hand traced up your back and slid around your neck, his thumb rubbing gentle, affectionate circles onto your skin.

“How would you feel about the two of us being together, like this, forever?” he asked, his gaze locking onto yours, an unusual stiffness in his expression. You couldn’t believe it, but he was actually nervous.

You blinked once, twice and tilted your head. “Levi, are you asking… me to marry you?”

You weren’t entirely surprised that this was how he’d phrased it — he’d never been one for verbosity or overly sentimental language. He’d showed his love for you more in his actions; in the way he always checked you for injuries at least three times after a mission, in the way he’d stroke the back of your hand with his thumb when he held it as you fell asleep, in the way he’d insist on giving you half of his own breakfast every morning so you’d have enough energy for the day.

“Yes, Y/N,” he’d said, his hand shifting to cup your cheek, his soft gray eyes settling into yours. “I’m asking you to marry me.”

You felt all of the blood rush to your head, your entire body overwhelmed with excitement, joy, and love for Levi.

“Yes,” you managed to say — and repeated the single word at least twenty times, as you leaned in to press your lips to his, peppering him over and over with kisses.

“Alright, alright,” he’d mumbled after the twentieth kiss, his cheeks then flushed with a soft pink blush.

You beamed with joy as you pulled your face back from his, your eyes glimmering with adoration.

“So,” you began, a hint of playfulness in your voice, raising your eyebrow, “do I get a ring then, or what?”

His lips pressed together, his gaze narrowing just a bit as he considered the question, a puff of air escaping his nose.

“Fine.” His voice was a low, dry mumble, but his lips bent into a small smile, the tension in his forehead releasing. He couldn’t help but give into every one of your requests, no matter what.

His eyes scanned around the room, looking for something suitable, before he reached out to the bedside table, the muscles in his shoulders and back flexing as he took a paperclip from a stack of papers. Turning back to you, his fingers worked with precision to unravel the paper clip, the wire of which he used to form a nearly perfect circle. He took your hand, his touch gentle, and slid the makeshift paper clip ring onto your ring finger in one swift, delicate motion.

“How’s that?” His eyes studied your face, intently waiting for any sign of reaction. “Temporarily, anyway.”

Your cheeks blushed uncontrollably and you gleamed with a smile so wide it made the muscles in your face turn sore. Seeing you this way made him smile — a real smile.

“It’s perfect,” you’d whispered, practically choking the words out. “Much better than any stupid diamond I’ve ever seen.”

“Think we need to do the whole ceremony thing? Or can I just start calling you my wife now?” His brows scrunched together slightly as he waited for your answer, and you could tell how badly he wanted to skip the frills and formalities and simply be yours, eternally.

At the sound of the word ‘wife’ your chest swelled with affection, and your eyes became misty, blurring your vision of him.

“Screw the ceremony,” you whispered, your voice shaking with overflowing emotion. “We’re married, now.”

“Good,” he whispered back, his own voice fraught with feeling, as his thumbs brushed away the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks. “I love you, Y/N. You know that.”

His eyes bore into yours, seeking confirmation. He didn’t say ‘I love you’ often, only when it really counted.

“I know,” you whispered. “I love you, too, Levi.”

******

It was only weeks after that — after the moment Levi decided, finally, that you would be by his side forever, that he knew you’d never leave him — that your squad was faced with a particularly dangerous mission.

It was another reconnaissance mission, much like all of the other Scouts’ missions had been, but no one could have anticipated the amount of Abnormals. The Scouts hadn’t reached a single objective before entire groups of Erwin’s formation had been wiped out by the Abnormals, which were making their way closer and closer to the center groups. Erwin had officially called for a retreat — something he rarely ever did, only when the situation was dire.

Levi Squad raced forward on horseback, galloping past the blurred, unidentifiable carnage of comrades; the once green fields had turned red and rotten.

Your gaze was fixated intently on Levi, catching glimpses of his profile as he led the squad forward — to anyone else, he looked entirely collected. But you knew him too well and had memorized all of his micro-expressions, and based on the tension in his jaw and the chilled intensity of his gaze, you knew he was worried, too. He’d often admitted that he never knew what the outcome of these missions would be, that no one did, and you could see his mind racing with that exact thought.

The pounding of impossibly large footsteps caused the ground to shake just slightly, enough to make your head whip around and see a group of Abnormals charging forward with unprecedented speed and force.

“Captain!” You’d called out, drawing Levi’s attention. He’d simply glanced over his shoulder and ordered to keep moving forward per Erwin’s command; based on the looks the rest of the squad exchanged, you knew they were unsure about this decision.

Before anyone could think or say another word, one of the Abnormals had surged forward and began to reach for Eld, whose blades were inexplicably jammed in his ODM gear. The panic in his eyes was enough to strike fear into anyone.

You sprung into action immediately — this was simply how you were. You never wasted time thinking, you only acted. It was reckless, perhaps, but you’d gotten results time and time again, and the thought of losing a friend without trying to save him was unacceptable to you.

This was one of the things Levi loved most about you, and it was also one of the things he wished so badly to change about you. He admired your selflessness, your fearlessness, the way you never seemed to be paralyzed by indecision. But, sometimes, it felt to him like only a matter of time before something terrible would happen to you.

You’d managed to sink a grappling hook into the Titan and propel yourself off of your horse, in the direction of Eld, knocking him out of the Titan’s path. You’d planned on being able to then reach the nape of the neck and put an end to this, but you were too rash, too impulsive to anticipate that the Titan’s next movement would whack your ODM wire to the side, bringing your body flinging through the air with it.

The rest, in your recollection, was more or less a blur. You knew that the Titan curled its fingers around your body, its grip bruising your skin and rendering you too immobile to fight back. You knew that you’d heard Levi yelling — actually yelling. You knew that the Titan had brought you to its mouth and managed to sink its teeth into the side of your body enough to make you lose consciousness, but not enough to kill you. You knew that Levi was the one who had intervened, who had saved your life. The last piece of memory you had was the sight of Levi’s face as he grabbed you from the Titan, a look that was so intense, fear-stricken, and furious, it bordered on crazed.

After getting you back onto the ground, Hange had ridden over on horseback and hoisted your limp body onto the horse, carrying you out of harm’s way.

Levi took care of that Titan himself — he made sure of it. Blinded by rage and agony, he slaughtered the Titan with a brutality he typically withheld. Normally, Levi did only as much has he had to in order to kill a Titan. This wasn’t fun for him, it wasn’t a game; he didn’t like fighting, he didn’t like being violent.

But this was different — he sliced the Titan apart, his movements a fevered, merciless haze, his vision red with bloodthirstiness. By the time he was done with the Titan, it was a mere pile of limbs, and he was drenched in its blood.

He’d finally reached the wagon that you’d been placed in, climbing into it with urgent movements, trailing Titan blood behind him. His pupils were constricted; his eyes were glowing with panic.

Your body was lying flat in the wagon, Hange and some of the other squad members hovering over you, attempting to tend to your wounds, their efforts proving futile. They’d managed to wrap a bandage over where the Titan had bit you, but you were bleeding through it with no sign of stopping. There wasn’t anything left to do until you all returned inside the walls.

“Get the fuck away from her! Don’t fucking touch her!” He shouted, his voice coarse and sharp, his arms effortlessly shoving everyone else away from your limp body. He stood over you, his eyes wild with emotion, his chest rising and falling with breaths so heavy it looked almost painful.

When he dropped to his knees beside you, his eyes caught sight of your hand, on the makeshift paperclip ring he had made you, that you’d refused to ever take off. An ice-cold chill rushed down his spine, so sharp it felt like it was actually ripping him apart from the inside out.

“Why is this wagon moving so damn slowly?!” He snarled to the rest of the squad, his eyes desperately glued to your face, while the others scrambled to try and speed the journey up as much as they could.

He grasped onto your hand with both of his as if the sheer force of his grip could heal you and bring you back to him. His eyes didn’t waver from your face once, his gaze burning into your skin, searching for even the slightest sign of life; all he was met with was your sweat-glistened skin. You looked peaceful and it snapped his last thread of self-control — he wanted you to fight.

An uncontrollable, livid, primal growl escaped his mouth, unable to form any coherent words. Spit flung off his lips and into the wind, his expression was frenzied with helpless rage and despair.

The rest of the squad’s expressions froze. They’d never seen Levi be anything but stoic, apart from when he was actively slicing the nape of a Titan’s neck. Goosebumps dotted their skin as they simply watched, eyes wide, unsure of what to do. Levi had forgotten anyone else was even there; he cared about nothing in that moment but you.

He watched as your face turned lifeless, as your breathing became so shallow that it was hardly perceptible. You were slipping through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do about it — for once, his strength meant nothing.

“No,” he barked, his voice gruff and strained, his grip on your hand tightening until his knuckles turned blazing white. “You won’t be taken from me. This shitty, goddamned world is not going to take you from me. You gave your word, Y/N. You said forever. Don’t back out on me now.”

His cries didn’t make a sound, but the sight of his back heaving raggedly and his hot tears dropping down onto your face was unmistakable. His face was twisted with anguish; his teeth were visibly clenched together so forcefully that they could’ve cracked. His hands began to involuntarily shake as they held onto your hand, the paperclip ring digging into his skin.

******

The next time you’d opened your eyes, you were confused. Your vision was blurry for a few moments, until you were met with the sight of the medical unit and you realized you were lying in one of the beds.

The next thing you saw was Levi’s face, the veins in neck tense with distress, the circles under his eyes darker than you’d ever seen them before. You took a deep breath, which hurt, and you felt the bandages around your waist expand and contract against your skin.

Upon seeing your eyes begin to faintly blink open, Levi moved to the edge of his chair, his hand urgently reaching out for yours, his eyes wildly moving across your face.

“Y/N?” His voice was raspy with disuse and lack of sleep, his tone pleading and tinged with hope.

“Levi…?” you whispered, groggily, your voice low and coarse.

His eyes fluttered closed with relief, his shoulders slumping as his head dropped down to your hand, holding it to his forehead with reverence. “Oh, thank god…” He whispered, his voice stilted with emotion.

Once Levi composed himself, and you began asking him questions, he explained to you, briefly, what had happened — he didn’t want to alarm or worry you with the more gruesome details until he was sure you were okay. All he told you was that a Titan had attacked you on the last scouting mission and that you’d been in the medical unit for weeks.

You’d learned later that the entire time, Levi had barely left your side. He’d sat in a chair next to you, watching you, talking to you, holding your hand, and urging you to wake up and come back to him. At night, he’d slept even less than usual, nodding off in his chair for only an hour or so here and there. Some of the other squad members could have sworn they’d even caught glimpses of Levi crying when he thought no one else was around.

The only time he ever left your side was if he had to go to briefings and meetings. When he did, he’d threaten medics into sitting by your side, outlining grave consequences for if anything happened to you while he was gone. He’d skipped meals, trainings, and anything else that wasn’t absolutely mandatory for him to attend.

After he’d finished helping you sip some water and become less groggy, he just looked at you, his eyes scanning over every centimeter of your face, as if making sure that you were really awake and stable and it wasn’t some insomnia-induced hallucination.

“You’re done with the Scouts,” he’d said, finally, his voice firm, unyielding — it wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“Huh?” Your brows pressed together with confusion. “Who decided that? Erwin? What, does he think I’m useless now?”

“No, Y/N.” He shook his head, taking a soft breath before continuing. “I’m deciding it.”

“Levi-“

“No,” he cut you off before you can even think to object. His jaw clenched, his expression was fraught with concern. “Y/N. I thought you were… gone. It nearly killed me. This- nothing can ever happen to you again. You’re my wife. I need you to be here, with me. I need to know you’re safe, Y/N. I can’t- if you’d actually… Please, Y/N.”

For a moment, this surprised you. Outside of missions, Levi had never told you what to do or asked anything of you — he was protective, but not possessive. You being with him, caring for him, and loving him was more than he’d ever dared to hope for in his life. To him, you’d settle for him despite his most hidden scars, and it felt wrong to ever ask for more.

But he was asking you to do this. Begging you. For him.

“Okay,” your voice dipped to a gentle softness, your hand reaching out for his again, somewhat weakly. “Okay, Levi. I’ll leave the Scouts. Nothing will ever happen to me again. Everything’s going to be okay.”

A slow, uneven breath escaped his lips, as if expelling all of the fear and tension in his body. He collapsed into you, softly, his forehead pressed against your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he breathed, the words barely making a sound. “I love you, Y/N. More than you’ll ever know.”

He didn’t say it often, only when it really counted.

Masterlist

Requests are OPEN!

Requested by anonymous!

Taglist (message me to be added!): @leviykwim

[leviraaaaaa]

All that's left.

“I know you’re there.”

Levi's voice cut through the stillness, startling you. You’d been watching him from the side of the wreckage, watching as the ghosts of your comrades appeared for one last time, one last salute. One last declaration of all they dedicated. One last goodbye. They had met your gaze too, shooting a small sad smile and you knew what it meant.

You two were all that's left. The last one's standing.

You stayed out of his sight even after they disappeared, giving him the privacy to mourn. God knows he needed it. You didn’t think he had noticed your presence, but then again, who were you trying to fool? His extraordinary instincts were never to be underestimated.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself to stand straight and stumbled forward, trying not to put too much weight on the ankle you had injured. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes. Ever resilient, ever strong, the cracks were so slight, just barely there. But you knew. You could always tell.

“Hi.” You mumbled. He stared at you as you dragged yourself in front of him.

“Nice of you to make it out alive.” He said.

“Who would’ve thought?” You shrugged.

“You made an ugly titan by the way.”

“I’m sure you would’ve looked charming.”

“Bet.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. The conversation was so unbelievably normal, it was surreal. Like nothing ever happened. Here, amid the ruins of everything, all the corpses, smoke, blood and destruction—here you were, back to how it always was. Almost as if, if you concentrated hard enough, all of it would go away and you���d find you and him back in the soggy cafeteria of the scout headquarters, back to bantering with him and arguing about silly little things that don't really deserve arguments but it’s you and Levi so of course it’d end up an argument.

You felt so old suddenly.

How come you ended up here? In this way?

And Levi looked so tired, you could cry. Hasn’t he given enough? Doesn’t he get to rest now?

“Does that..” You glanced down at his leg, the one he had spread out in front of him. It was clear it was beyond repair. The fabric of his pants were torn at the knee, from where it was crushed between the titan’s jaw, a bloody, mangled mess. “Does that hurt?”

“Not really, no.” His eyes followed your gaze. “Numbed a while ago. Can’t feel shit really.”

You sighed. "Not very humanity's strongest anymore, huh?"

Levi raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" He said. "Careful, I could still kick your ass."

"I'm sure."

You grinned. Then went ahead and dropped yourself beside him. He frowned.

“Shouldn’t we be getting up?” He said. “Why are you getting comfortable?”

“Why not?” You muttered, pulling your legs upto your chest, hugging them. “What’s it matter what we do or not? Armin’s the hot shit now, let him deal with everything.” Your head throbbed as you buried them in your knees. "We're too fucking old now anyways,"

He didn’t argue, but he made no attempt to get up either. If anything, he looked more relaxed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to spend the rest of your life here. After all, you were so tired, and you were sure he was too. This was as good as anywhere else would be.

Because there’s no home to return to anymore.

“Do you think there’s anything left of Hange to bury?” He suddenly said.

You shuddered. What do you answer to that?

Your head pounded so hard, you couldn’t really think. Far away, somewhere in the distance, you could hear someone yelling at another someone, but you couldn’t bother to pay attention to the words. Armin and the others would figure something out surely.

You were exhausted.

“Say, Levi.” You said tiredly, nudging him slightly.

“What?”

“Wanna get married?”

Levi almost choked, he was suddenly all uptight, stiff as a board as he looked at you with wide eyes.

“What the fuck?” He asked, looking mildly horrified. “Are you seriously gonna make jokes here? Here?”

“Not joking.”

You lifted up your head, tilting it to look at him. It was hard to tell whether he was annoyed or flustered. Maybe both. "Not joking at all," You sighed. You’re not sure where the sudden boldness came from, but this is as good a time as any. Might as well. “You’re right. It’s a bad time to make jokes. So I’m dead serious.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.” You nodded, turning your expression very serious.

“You’re weird as fuck.” He muttered out after several failed attempts to speak. The tips of his ears turned red, red as it always did whenever you used to jokingly suggest that he should date you. Except you weren’t really joking anymore. In fact, you haven’t been joking for a long, long time.

“I mean..” You closed your eyes. You were too tired to even feel embarrassed. “We’re the only ones left. Me and you. You’re all I have left, Levi. So, why not?”

He gasped at you for a long moment. Then he started shaking his head. “You’re insane.”

“You’re just realizing that?”

“No.” He muttered. “You’re insane. And it’s rubbing off on me.”

He paused for a long time, his one good eye searching your intensely, as if he was considering something. And finally, he made up his mind.

“You’re insane. And I’m no fucking different.” He sighed. “I must’ve hit my head pretty damn hard because I’m actually considering this shit.”

You grinned. “Go on, say it. You like me.”

“Wrong. I tolerate you.”

“Good enough. You don’t tolerate a lot of people, so I’ll take it as I'm special.”

He sighed, turning away, hoping that’s enough to hide his heart from you. You were special to him, always. But you didn’t need to know that. He didn’t want you to know that. He didn’t know how to let you know that.

“Can you believe us?” He scoffed instead. “We’re practically sitting in a graveyard. Half the world’s ruined but then there’s us.”

“That’s fine. Let’s keep being us. The world can go fuck itself. Meanwhile, we can—”

“Do not finish that sentence.” He glared.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. A deep, aching laugh that left you gasping for air and brought tears to your eyes. And for the briefest moment, Levi’s lips twitched into something resembling a smile.

“We’re insane.” You admitted, still breathless. With that, you pushed yourself up, stumbling a little before you found your balance. You reached out your hand to Levi, who took it without question.

“Come on, Lev.” You pulled him up, letting him wrap an arm around you to brace himself. “Let’s go home.”

You were right, Levi thinks as he limped with you, letting you support him. It was nice to finally let himself lean on someone.

You two are the only ones left.

You’re all he has now.

The world has taken enough from him. He’s so tired of letting go.

And he’d be damned if he let you go too.

[ackerink]

no, levi doesn't yell at his children. he'd never, a stern voice and serious face is enough to get his point across while still respecting them as a human being.

yes, levi wakes up in the middle of the night to make sure his children are alive and sleeping peacefully. he isn't paranoid, he's just a worried father. . .maybe he is paranoid.

no, levi isn't letting any of his daughters have boyfriends until they're at least fifteen. they are just too young to be thinking about love anyway.

yes, levi shed a couple tears during his first-born baby's birth. no, he won't ever admit it out loud.

no, levi isn't good with words but he hopes his children know that he loves them dearly even if he won't verbalize it 24/7.

yes, levi spoils his babies. they want that toy? he can't say no, their pleading eyes are too cute.

"they won't stay little for long." he tells himself.

[marsbutterfly]

Too Sweet

Summary: For the past few weeks, Hanji has locked themselves away in their office, away from prying eyes, including your own. But your heart can clearly tell when something is wrong with your beloved.

a/n: hey everyone <3 this story is entirely based on the cover art by my amazing artist friend @kylekoraki ! please show them some love and everyone say "thank you" to kyle for drawing this! <3 here's their twitter as well <3

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: canon setting, fem!reader, non-binary!hanji zoe, no warnings really, just some heavy kissing. not really beta read, we die like men <3

 ao3 | wattpad | cover by: @kylekoraki | wc: 4.2k

You knock on the door. Once, twice, thrice. No answer. A grunt escapes your lips and you roll your eyes, repeating the action. Once, twice, thrice. Nothing again. Now a frown takes the place of the smile that used to rest on your face, you know they are in there, you can hear the papers being shuffled around, the tapping of their pen, the shadow of their body as they pass by the door, even faintly the sound of the ice that clinks around their whiskey glass.

You raise your hand to knock again, but before you even have the chance, the door opens. Barely enough for any light to make it through but you see the faint silhouette of Hanji's lips pouting. "You know that when someone doesn't answer, it means they want to be left alone, right?" Their voice is low, almost as if they are making sure to remain quiet to not attract any more unnecessary attention.

"But... it's me.." you respond just as softly, a pout of your own forming, "I'm not like other people."

“y/n…” They begin, moving their glasses from the spot on their face towards the top of their head, pushing their bangs backward in the meantime. Their brown eyes stare at you for what feels like forever, their mind hiding behind an ocean of thoughts and an expression you can’t quite decipher this time around.

They want you to stay, to hold you in their arms as they sit here in the comforting silence of your presence, but instead, they shake their head, trying their best to remove any thoughts of what your warmth would do to them. A heavy sigh makes its way past their lips, the eyebags under their eyes more present than ever as they begin to talk again.

“Please, I’m fine,” they respond. What Hanji fails to realize is that their voice did a slight tremble, not noticeable to anyone else but you know them better than the palm of your own hand. They are the pure representation of your heart beating outside of your chest, so seeing them in such distress is enough to make you act against direct orders, consequences be damned.

“You are not,” you respond. Their office is a mess, their research papers scattered around with drawings and models of flying boats, new weapons, and ways to improve the Survey Corps all around. A thousand and one ideas, some connecting and some just scattered around the wind. 

The whiskey bottle that until a few weeks ago rested full to the brim on their bookshelf now finds itself on its last few sips, the curtains are drawn so no amount of light other than the small candles at the edge of their table can exist in the room and you even notice a few shards of broken glass, probably meaning that they have dropped a cup or two, either from exhaustion or from not being able to see in the dark.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” You ask, gently taking the whiskey glass out of their hand. You notice a small blush creeping its way onto their cheeks as their eyes pointedly avoid yours and, by these simple reactions, you can tell it has been a while, “You’re losing weight.”

They try to reach for the glass once more but you shake your head, pulling it further away. Even though they are stronger than you and could easily take it back if they wanted to, they don't. Instead, Hanji leans against their desk, crossing their arms in front of their chest as they let out a heavy sigh. They want to lie, to tell you they are fine, and pretend like nothing is wrong, but before a single false promise about their well-being can make its way past their lips, you speak up again.

“I can tell you haven’t been sleeping,” your voice is soothing, not an ounce of frustration or anger behind it, just plain worry. You take a step closer, fully prepared for another rejection but it doesn’t come this time around, though you still don’t dare take a deep breath until the moment your fingertips brush against their left cheek, just slightly beneath their eyepatch, “you look exhausted.”

“Now that’s just rude!” An exhausted chuckle escapes their lips as they nuzzle their face into your hand, their expression contorting from anguish to a somewhat relaxed one and it causes your heart to nearly stop for a second before between at three times the usual speed, you are convinced they can hear it from where they stand. “I’ll have you know that I look awesome.”

It’s your turn to chuckle, your worries melting away for simply a second before coming back at full force, knowing way too well that redirecting attention and humor have always been Hanji’s favorite ways of avoiding a serious conversation.

“Hanji…” You start, your tone of voice sounding just as exhausted and defeated as theirs. It drags a loud sigh out of their chest, but as their mouth opens to complain, you continue, a begging tone in your voice as your eyes fill with unwashed tears, “Please, just talk to me.”

That look is enough to cause a painful bang to shoot throughout their body, their heart dropping to their stomach with the knowledge that it is their fault that you look this way. So, without even realizing it, they are already taking a couple of steps forward, hands tightly grasping at your hips as they lean their forehead against yours.

“I’ve just been so busy,” they whisper, the broken tone in their voice creates a tight knot in your throat and the sensation only grows stronger as they continue to speak, “Paperwork, meetings, and any free time I have I go to the lab, trying to complete some old experiments I’ve had from years ago. Even if I try to sleep, I just… Lay there, staring at the ceiling, maybe getting two or three hours here and there.”

You sigh, your arms immediately wrapping around their neck as you pull them close. Their eyelashes bat against the skin of your neck as they close their eyes, a shaky breath escaping them as they inhale your scent, focusing on the way your body feels and smells.

At that moment, an idea hits you. Without disturbing the hug, you look around the messy room, quickly taking in the setting before noticing that, for once, their couch rests next to the window, uncluttered and undisturbed. 

Reluctantly, you pull away from them and the first thing you can hear is a grunt of disapproval. Once your eyes meet again, their pupils are so big, they could only be compared to a puppy dog that has just discovered steak for the first time, pleading, begging even, “Why’d you do that?”

Without an answer, your hand slides with theirs, fingers lacing and fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Their palm is slightly wet, though you can’t quite place if it is from the condensation from the whiskey glass they held earlier or if it is from nervous sweats. Regardless, all you can focus on is how warm their presence feels close to you.

You don’t speak, instead, you just guide their body towards the couch, their feet dragging behind you, “what are we doing?” They ask, their eyes already fighting to remain open in a combination of the exhaustion and the fuzzy feeling from being drunk, the comfort you bring them doesn’t help either. They are clearly forcing themselves to stay awake, wanting to spend all of this time with you instead of stubbornly trying to push you away.

“We are not doing anything,” you respond, taking a seat on the couch. Your free hand brushes against the spot next to you and they quickly catch onto what you are hinting, your words finally clicking in their head as they flash you a confused look, “You, on the other hand, are going to sleep for a while.”

Their eyes widen for a second as your words take them by surprise, a small groan of protest making its way past their chapped lips, “mmmmm, noo, I can’t… I have so much work that I need to get done… I don’t... Have time to sleep.”

Carefully, you bring your hand towards the back of their head, pulling the ponytail holder out of their hair to make sure they are more comfortable for the next step, which includes guiding their head down towards your thighs. It doesn’t take much effort nor does Hanji put up much of a fight, their body is completely exhausted after all.

“Mmmm,” they whine, their voice filled with a mixture of exhaustion and stubbornness, almost like a child who refuses to lay down for nap time, but once again, they don’t put up a fight, “damn it, how could I ever say no to you?”

“You can’t,” you chuckle, your fingers beginning to comb through the knots in their hair, detangling the strands, your nails gently scratching their scalp while you are at it, “I promise I will be here when you wake up. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your words are soft, carrying so much love that it is almost impossible for Hanji not to melt on the spot. The warmth of your legs combined with the feeling of your fingers going through their hair is finally enough to relax their overly exhausted body, their eyes finally closing and you use your free hand to remove their glasses, hanging it up on the neckline of your shirt.

“Finnneeeee,” Hanji whines once more, turning their body over so their face is buried in your stomach, their slim body now curled into a small ball on the couch and you can’t help but smile at the sight, “but do not let me sleep for more than thirty minutes. An hour, tops.”

You lift your eyes slightly to take a look at the clock on the wall, a gift from Kiyomi to celebrate your relationship. Silently, you take note of the time and look back down at your beloved, a soft, whispered “okay” leaving your lips.

“I’m serious,” Their voice starts sounding more sluggish by the second, their mind already starting to drift off but they fight back sleep for a few extra minutes, just enough to finish the conversation between the two of you, their voice extremely drowsy, “I’ll be mad if you don’t wake me up.”

“I would not dream of doing such a thing,” you respond, unsure if they recognize the mischievous tone in your words or not, but truly hoping that, if they do, they are simply choosing to ignore it. Even so, the way you speak brings them so much comfort, a sense of peace they haven’t felt since becoming commander, “just sleep, my love. I’ll be here.”

The moment Hanji hears you whisper that promise, the certainty that you will be here when they wake up, it’s like a switch flips inside of their mind and they finally allow their body to relax against your touch. Much like a cat, they purr as you continue to run your fingers through their hair, unable to avoid the smile that is now stamped on their lips.

“Thank you, love you,” they whisper, their voice is barely audible and you almost miss it. You don’t even have time to respond before they are completely asleep, the weight of the countless sleepless days finally catching up with their body.

When the first hour passes, you look up from your book, your eyes landing on the clock before making their way down towards Hanji’s face. They look so peaceful, their breathing is so calm and even that it soothes your own worries away and it takes every ounce of your strength not to lay down and nap with them. 

The decision to let them continue their slumber is an easy one. Eventually, you notice a small smile that tugs the corner of their lips in their sleep and you can’t help but wonder and hope that they are dreaming of you. Nevertheless, your fingers continue to go through the strands of their hair, even if it makes flipping the pages of your book a bit difficult, you manage to find a solution by placing it down on the armrest of the couch before using your pinky and ring fingers to hold the object down while the remaining digits flip towards the next page.

Another hour goes by and you start to ponder if you should wake them up. Maybe letting them sleep for this long wasn’t such a good idea, especially since you know they have to return to their duties as commander of the Survey Corps, such as continuing their research and sketching plans for the flying boat. But you can see it in their expression, the small specs of the bubbly person they used to be finally showing back up on their features as they sleep, small reminders of the bright light that has saved you from darkness more times than you can count.

You gasp softly when Hanji stirs slightly in your lap, your heart clenching in your chest as you continue to look down at them, scared that you moved too much and it caused them to wake up. Their expression is still undisturbed, almost like a cat that has just found the warmest spot on the window sill and you catch yourself smiling at them. A silly, love-sick smile that only they can bring out of you.

As the third-hour rolls by and you are trying to convince yourself that it is time to wake them up, you hear a knock on the door and your entire body freezes. You find yourself torn by the two options:

1) Do you say something loudly enough for the person on the other side to hear and risk waking Hanji up in a stressful way before throwing them directly into a situation in which they need to be the Commander, and not the bubbly Hanji Zoe you once loved so dearly.

2) You silently hope that the soldier on the other side will either go away soon or open the door quietly. The couch, though it is by the window, still has a perfect view of the front door to their office, so the person would quickly notice the situation and you would be able to calmly wake Hanji at your own pace, without any negative or stressful interactions.

A second, more forceful knock comes and you notice Hanji slowly starting to shift on your lap. The annoyed expression on your face morphs into one of anger and, as the shadow on the door side moves to knock for a third time, you decide to throw a pillow at the surface.

The person stops midway with their movements before their hand slowly comes to rest on the knob, twisting it slightly as the door quietly swings open. In front of you stands a very nervous scout, one of the new recruits, who hasn’t even been able to choose a specialty yet. His hands are trembling and he nearly drops the stack of papers he holds in his grasp, eyes bugging out of his skull as he looks at you and the sleeping figure on your legs.

“P-paperwork… F-for the C-Commander…” His voice is quiet and trembling, almost as if he is stepping directly into a monster’s lair. You realize in this moment just how intimidating Hanji is in everyone else’s perspective but your own and you can’t help but smile. You nod and gesture your head towards their desk, placing your index finger in front of your lips.

“I-it’s from… Instructor S-Shadis,” he says in the quietest of whispers, but you could already tell. Keith Shadis’ ugly handwriting was something you could identify from a mile away if you had to, “r-reports about… T-the ranking c-ceremony.”

“Thank you,” you mouth the words softly, your fingers moving on Hanji’s hair. They look so small and calm, almost like a harmless kitten, a direct contrast to the authoritative figure that can command an entire room with just a single look in their eye.

The boy nods, his trembling legs making their way towards the wooden table and carefully placing the new stack of paper next to the old ones, trying his best to make sure it is neatly organized while desperately avoiding eye contact with you. He does a quick salute towards you before eagerly exiting the room and you can nearly hear his breath of relief once he is out of sight, outside the closed doors.

You shake your head before looking down at Hanji once more to see a smile on their face. You roll your eyes, “how long have you been awake for?”

The smile on their face grows bigger, their eyes opening slowly to look at you, still a blurry image from the lack of their glasses but still enough for their heart to beat slightly faster, “since the first knock.” Of course, you think to yourself, “How long was I asleep for?”

You look at the clock, and a part of you wants to lie, say it’s only been thirty minutes or so but when you look out the window, you realize the sun has already started to set, making it impossible for such a thing to be even remotely believable. You sigh again.

“Around three hours…” You respond in a sheepish voice, avoiding their gaze. Immediately, Hanji sits up, placing their glasses above the bridge of their nose and looking at the clock on the wall. Once they look back at you, you can see the slightly irritated expression on their face and you feel like you could just shrink and disappear under such a harsh gaze.

“y/n, you promised!” They blur out and you can tell it isn’t anger or irritation… It’s an intense pile of anxiety, hidden behind the harsh facade they attempt to put up. They’re scared that something went wrong in the period they have been sleeping, like the Survey Corps might have fallen apart and they were doing something so useless such as taking a nap. A single thought is going through their mind, those words they have been chanting like a mantra since the fateful day in Shiganshina.

Erwin Would Never.

You stand up a mere second after them, watching closely as their hands grip the edges of the desk and their head hangs low, hips tilted forward in a desperate attempt to hold themselves upright. It breaks your heart to see them like this and, no matter how much you agree with Erwin that Hanji should be the next Commander, you can’t forgive him for leaving such a massive responsibility on their shoulders.

So your arms wrap around their waist, your cheek finding a perfect spot in the area between their shoulder blades. You nuzzle your face against their vest, nearly purring as you do. The smell of Hanji’s skin, mixed with a little bit of sweat as a result of their nap awakens the butterflies in your stomach and the only thing able to bring you out of your thoughts is the broken sound of their voice.

“How long were you going to let me sleep for?” They whisper, a hint of desperation behind their tone and you notice they are shaking. You tighten your grip around them.

“For as long as you needed,” you respond and, at the sound of their quiet sob, your heart shatters. “You haven’t been eating or sleeping, you are drinking in the middle of the day and, well, you are pulling away from me.”

With a long sigh, they turn around, a defeated expression on their face, “Y/n, I’m a mess. I’ve always been a mess. I’m always overthinking things, I’m mean, I’m stubborn, please. I need to catch up on my work, it’s so much paperwork and it just keeps piling up…”

“Hanji, you’re spiraling,” you whisper, fingertips almost featherlike as they brush against their arm. You hope and pray and nearly fall to your knees begging that they will listen to your voice, that they will give you time to make your case and prove that they are so much more than anything they are thinking, but they continue.

“Erwin’s one mistake was making someone like me the commander,” they whisper in the most defeated tone you have ever heard. It’s like something in your mind snaps and you immediately grab a hold of their wrist, flipping them around before pressing your body against theirs on the table.

“Now you listen to me and you listen good,” your voice is stern in a way Hanji had never heard before, it’s filled with pain, heartache, and still so much love, “Erwin wouldn’t have made you Commander if he didn’t think you would be a perfect choice. And I agree.”

Hanji wants to protest, they want to contradict you but the desperate look in your eyes convinces them to remain silent. Instead, they focus all of their attention on your words, into the amount of effort it takes you not to break into tears as you listen to their self-deprecating words, the doubt in their mind. They focus on the way your lips move and how desperately they want to kiss you.

“You are the reason why we were able to eradicate titans outside the wall, you created the thunder spears that were enough to scare off the armored titan,” you continue, the trembling in your hands is so intense you can barely contain your grip on them but you don’t let go nevertheless, “Moblit sacrificed himself for you because he believed you could guide us towards the world outside the walls. Erwin entrusted the Survey Corps to you because you are the most brilliant person any of us has ever seen. Please, just… Tell me you at least believe me.”

They don’t respond, not because they don’t want to, but because their voice won’t come out. It’s as if their brain has lost connection with their vocal chords and all they can focus on is the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes. 

So in one swift move, Hanji grabs a hold of your wrist and immediately switches places with you. You can’t help but yelp quietly, especially when you feel their hands grasping at the back of your thighs as they lift you. Your hands reach behind you, carefully assessing the area while trying not to mix any of their paperwork, but Hanji doesn’t have a single care in the world that isn’t you at this moment.

Their eyes hungrily stare at your lips and, with a silent nod of their head, you push away all the papers that were once so neatly organized on their desk. Once you are sitting down and your legs wrap around their waist, Hanji wastes no time in sealing their lips with yours, a delighted hum escaping your body once they do.

You wrap your arms around their neck, allowing your fingers to venture through the messy strands of their hair. Their fingers dig into your hips, strong enough to nearly leave a few bruises but neither of you care, the need you have for each other overwhelms any and every other one of your senses.

Their tongue slowly glides on your lower lip before they gently take it in between their teeth, pulling the skin towards them. After a few seconds, they let go and immediately begin to silently beg for entrance, using the tip of their tongue to nudge your lips apart and it doesn’t take you long to indulge.

They pull you closer to themselves, your bodies pressed together without a single inch of free space as they hold you, nearly afraid that you might disappear the second they loosen their grip. It’s the first time you have kissed in what feels like forever, even if it has been just a few weeks.

You can’t help but focus on the taste of whiskey in their mouth, it’s completely different from anything ever made inside the Walls. It nearly tastes “expensive”, for the lack of a better word. It’s been hours since they have last taken a sip and the flavor is still so vivid on their tongue. So much so that it nearly burns once your saliva begins mixing.

It’s only when the need for air becomes unbearable that the two of you pull away, a small string of saliva connecting your bodies. You run your tongue over your lip, breaking that connection and still getting one last taste of them. The sight causes a shiver to run down Hanji’s spine and they smile, gently placing their forehead against yours.

“I needed that,” they whisper, a smile stamped across their face and you nod, “I’m sorry for pushing you away, I’m just… Having a lot of big feelings that I couldn’t express but I have you now.”

“It’s okay, just don’t forget that I am here for and with you, okay?” You whisper back in a love-filled voice and they smile once more, nodding their head as their grip around you tightens ever so slightly, “You still taste like home.”

“Yeah? And what does that taste like?” They chuckle, nuzzling their nose against yours, enough that you can feel their glasses against your face.

“Like expensive whiskey,” you respond and Hanji laughs, the sound you’ve missed most these past few weeks and you are reminded yet again that home is whatever, wherever and whenever you are with them. No matter what.

[gabstea]

Levi Ackerman the type of boyfriend who can’t keep his hands off you. It’s subtle, always with an excuse. He can’t help it, really.

His hand on your back, guiding you through the streets. Him fixing your hair, your clothes, “cleaning” some imaginary dust off your shoulder.

His hands always finding your waist as you kiss and how he squeezes it gently and possessively just to make you gasp against his mouth. That beautiful sound that makes him deepen the kiss.

I’m just sure this man and his hands make you feel safe and at heaven.

[zeketarion]

levi hates being touched, even if it's a guy from a random person or a handshake, he'll decline. it's a complicated thing, he isn't used to things that would be considered "gentle touches".

most of his life levi has just experienced violence and cruelty at the hands of many, those he knew and even strangers. getting beaten within a half inch of your life almost everyday just to get your hands on even the smallest slice of bread is something that doesn't really leave you.

so, levi hates being touched. he can really only correlate being touched to being violet and unruly.

it takes a while for levi to warm up to the idea of you touching him, even if you two are in a relationship. it's not that he doesn't trust you, he's just scared. though he wouldn't admit it outright.

sometimes, people are afraid of the unknown but levi has never been afraid of anything. not in a long time at least. no titan, man or animal has invoked fear into him like this has.

he's not sure where to even start. but when you invite him to take a warm bath with you he agrees, he's not even sure why.

you keep your hands to yourself as to not cross his boundaries. levi can't help but feel conflicted, he wants to touch you, he wants to be like other couples who hold hands and hug each other so close that they seem as if they're one.

"can i wash your back?" the question is polite, innocent. levi agrees, it wouldn't hurt, right? he trusts you, he believes you won't hurt him. you aren't those men, you aren't those strangers.

your touch is everything he dreamt of and more, gentle. a gentle touch. he melts, his body relaxing.

maybe this was the first step you both had to take.

[chrollohearttags]

°˖✧✿✧˖° lose it • e. jaeger °˖✧✿✧˖°

📃: musician!eren, influencer reader, nipple play, subby eren, footjob, overstimulation, mentions of other suggestive themes, riding, orgasm denial (if you squint)

📝: posted this on Patreon a while back but like with everything I wrote, it got taken down. So here it is again bc this man is on my mind again 😩 I’ll be revisiting this au again very soon

wc: 1.1K

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

“Shit!—princesssss..oh fuck…”

“Eren, babe..you gotta be quiet. We’re gonna get caught.”

a tall request to ask of your musician husband at the moment but you’d still try nonetheless. Tossing a cupped palm around his mouth, (y/n) (l/n) tried your hardest to stifle those loud moans escaping his lips but to no avail. To think that the same EJ the Don, who was just on stage performing and rapping the most obscene lyrics..had now been reduced to a babbling mess by his pretty little wife. Truthfully though, you were just biding your time until you could get him all to yourself. See, the two of you had entered into a contract for the duration of his international tour and your group, the Pole Assassins, would be hoping his collective, Dead Boys. This was following the aftermath of a scandal with another artist who refused to allow you to be the main dancer on his stage. Naturally, it was all of you or none at all. So your husband, entering a new era with his artistry..wanted you to be around for the journey. Although you were hesitant, and felt as if his fanbase wouldn’t be receptive to it, you were completely wrong. From the states to Europe, you girls were the talk of the entire performance. Whilst Eren and the rest of his crew swooned sultry lyrics during slower tracks, you all were right there twirling above them…doing unbelievable stunts. When it came to more high energy joints, you’d rejoin them and mirror that of the girls in the strip club. There was one track in particular where you and Eren had a solo stunt. You’d climb to the top of the pole and when the beat dropped, you’d come down split leg into his lap as he sat in a chair with his thighs spread wide. Money would fall from the ceiling and accompany you. It was a variation of your infamous Kiss of Death that had gone viral countless times. You’d even have segments where you’d invite fans up on stage to try and mimic your movements and they’d have a blast. Especially at the 18+ shows. Not to mention all of the offstage antics between your groups…even your manager, choreographer friends and hairstylists were on the trip and it was a ball. Needless to say, all of you were having a good time!

however, fans began to notice that a new sound wasn’t the only change in EJ. His appearance was different as well. His skin seemed to glow something serious. His once defined abs were back and his outfits seemed to become a lot more revealing. He was coming out his shirt more; chains banging against his chest during performances and that large collection of tattoos seemed to grow even bigger. Even some of the crew’s wardrobe resembled that of an idol group when they performed together with different variations for each. But perhaps the most noticeable change? Those silver bars protruding from his pectorals. Particularly his nipples! Piercings he’d acquired one night on a whim, when you divulged how sexy they’d look on him. Granted, it wasn’t as if you were pushing the issue or even begging him to but when it came to his princess, he’d all but jump off the edge of the earth to see you smile. Naturally, it was the exact reaction he got too!..you were utterly shocked when he came back to your hotel room, climbed on top of you and began ravaging your body. That night, he fucked you like an absolute dog!..fingers in your mouth as he fed you backshots, placing you into a headlock and even twisting you up akin to a pretzel as he forced you into orgasm after orgasm..pounding your throat from the side of the bed. He even went for some backdoor exploration when he discovered you’d brought an anal plug along for the trip! You’d definitely had your fair share of wild nights with Eren but this one was insane. Three years of marriage but he was treating you like a slut off of the street..it was so fucking hot! His only explanation? He was egregiously horny after getting his piercings done. All he could think about was getting back to you!

But now, it was time to return the favor…right after the show, the two of you found yourselves in (y/n)’s dressing room. Sprawled out on the pink leather couch with his fishnet top ripped around as your tongue swirled around his sensitive buds. You’d start off by slowly kissing them..licking and lapping. Meanwhile, your acrylic fingertips wrapped around his shaft and stroked it. His cock was seeping with precum and was equally as red as those rhinestones as your outfit for the night. You even made him sit in front of you with your legs coiling his waist as your clear Pleasers rubbed up against his throbbing member..you’d never seen him so overstimulated in your life. You were afraid he was going to bust any second! However, he’d just continue begging for more..panting and whining as you played his most erogenous areas. ‘Baby..calm down. Someone’s gonna hear us, okay?” Which was absolutely unfair to ask! He was so damned aroused, he didn’t know what to do. Being this vulnerable wasn’t typically how you guys’ sex life went. You were normally the one whining and whimpering for more!..but alas, tables had turned.

“B-but I can’t..just feels so good..” It was a crime how cute he looked at the moment! Rutting himself into the palm of your hand and biting his lip to attempt to stifle his moans. You’d make it all but impossible to refrain from reaching climatic bliss when you asked him to lie flat on his back so you could ride him. From the moment you positioned yourself on his crotch, peeling those panties back and sinking his cock into your warmth, you would’ve sworn that your husband was looking at a ghost. His eyes stretched three times their own size until they eventually rolled back. That thick, heavy ass ricocheting off of his lap as those thrusts got harder. All the while, your fingertips caressed his nipples whilst you finally began deriving your own pleasure. Just the thought of him alone was enough to make you reach ecstasy…

“Then let it out, baby..I won’t hold it against you..”

and the way you were fucking on him, was enough to make him lose it!

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. | chapter 24

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 6.3k Summary: day 163 - continued.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - explicit smut, resolved sexual tension, oral (f!receiving), nipple play, body worship, fingering, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, protected piv sex, angst, mentions of death, sensuality Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

I feel... you.

The answer to your question you’ve been asking the moment you opened your eyes.

The clarity you’ve sought ever since you locked eyes with the captain of the Scouts.

I remember you.

Levi kisses you like he knows you, and the rest of the world ceases to exist.

His sturdy hands flutter in a flurry, touching every part of you like he wishes he could have it all.

Chilled palms cup your face, cradling your head as if it's the most precious thing they've ever touched, before sliding down your neck; to the slope of your shoulder, dipping down your sides — pulling you closer, closer, until you’re airborne.

You’re not afraid of falling.

Not with him.

Instinctually you jump, knowing he’ll catch you. 

Your thighs clench around his waist as one strong arm supports your weight, unwilling to compromise the position of his other hand. It remains on your cheek, cupping your face to hold your kisses steady.

As the man stumbles forward, you hear the abrupt slam of the wooden chair go flying across the room, skidding to its side on the floor. 

It’s loud.

(Surely someone downstairs will hear.)

Hange, Moblit, Erwin — in a best-case scenario, those who stayed behind will be the only privy to the commotion.

However, if the entire squad has returned from the forest...

Well, there's no mistaking the shuffles and slams coming from Captain Levi's room.

Fighting or fucking; the odds are fifty-fifty.

He doesn't seem to care.

Honestly?

Neither do you.

(Too much time wasted on open secrets.)

With immense control and strength, he slowly lowers you both to the bed. The bed frame creaks in its age under the weight, but the mattress feels soft compared to the forest floor you crashed into mere hours ago.

Your back touches the ivory sheets, engulfing you in the scent of him. Something uniquely Levi; crisp and impossibly clean with a musk that’s making your mouth water. 

You’ve smelled it in passing the few times he’s passed you at headquarters — always at arm’s length, no matter how close you try to get — but now it’s bound to stick to your body, your clothes —

The way it used to in the Underground. 

The way it used to in this very bed.

His kisses are messy yet precise, focused on the feel of your mouth against his. When you let out a shaken breath and whimper, overwhelmed by his reinvigorated passion, Levi outright groans. 

The same arm once holding you up snakes around from under your back to meet its twin cradling your face, keeping you in place.

(As if you’d ever wish to leave.)

“I’m sorry,” you whisper between kisses.

“Don’t,” he replies just as softly, tugging at your lower lip with his teeth. “Not now.”

“But—”

“I don’t want your damn apologies,” he sighs, traveling south to pepper your jawline with short, chaste kisses. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

When he senses your hesitance, he pumps the brakes on his kisses and raises his chin to look you in the eye. The storm in his eyes has darkened to a damn near black.

His button-down hangs off of his bony frame, giving you a view of the expanse of skin beneath.

“Nothing,” he repeats.

Like he knows you want to fight.

(The two of you know the language of violence so well, but you know one another better.)

The protests, the pleas, the endless stream of begging dies on your tongue the second his thumb grazes your lower lip with reverence.

Emotion flickers across his face, gone as fast as it came, before he dives back in for another kiss — slower this time, the push and pull deliberate with reassurance.

This.

This is what your lips should be doing, not apologizing.

The message is received loud and clear: you tilt your chin to meet him in every kiss, hands blindly raising to run through the soft strands of his black hair. He exhales through his nose, the hot breath tickling your skin.

For the longest time, it’s all you do.

Kiss.

One for every day spent apart.

One for every fight you’ve ever had.

One for every memory you’ve yet to recall.

The puzzle has a frame, yet there are still missing pieces, destroyed edges, that may never return. Maybe he’ll never make peace with it, but knowing you were a stone’s throw away from death surrenders that grief into confetti.

There will be new memories to make.

(As the keeper of your heart, you trust his recollection of the details you can no longer recount.)

This life won’t be perfect, it never has been from the beginning, but so long as you have this — have Levi — then nothing else matters.

“I can hear you thinking.”

The first part of that statement is muffled by a kiss, but he pulls away to check in during this languid, yearning make out session.

Levi squints down at you, lips pink from exertion.

“I’m not,” you lie.

His eyes narrow further. 

“Fine. I am.”

“About?”

“About how badly I want you.”

The blatant honesty dissolves that narrowness in seconds.

“About... how you—”

With the strength harnessed by adrenaline, you push on Levi’s chest, hard, until he’s flat on his back.

The bed creaks again when you crawl on top of him, straddling his hips while your hands plant themselves on the soft flesh of his wrists.

Down; you push down, pinning him underneath.

Levi doesn’t tense. He simply stares above, allowing you to do this.

“Want you,” you clarify, “yes.”

His throat bobs, but his expression stays cool. 

“Are you sure?”

“Do I look like I’m hesitating, Captain Levi?” you challenge, leaning down to hover over his face.

His hands leisurely flex under your hold, as if to relax them from their clenched state. 

For a moment, doubt creeps in.

Even if he’s confessed, there is still so much time unspoken for; so much to talk about, so much that you have missed.

Maybe it’s too much.

The grip on his wrists falters. “Unless if you don’t want—”

With inhuman strength, he uses the light hold you have on his wrists to push up, setting you off balance.

As you waver he quickly finds the upper hand, switching your positions once more so he can pin your wrists to the mattress beneath.

“Don’t even try to finish that sentence.”

To make his point, he drops his head to your neck and plants open-mouthed kisses against the column of your throat. You can’t help but make a strained noise of desire, eyes fluttering shut from ecstasy.

From this vantage point, you feel it — the sheer tension in his hold on your wrists, how desperately he resists clenching down, how gentle he aims to be when he glides both of your wrists from the sides of your face to over the crown of your head.

Levi doesn’t tremble, not like you. He remains as calculated as ever.

His lazy, methodical kisses trail up your neck to your jaw to your mouth. Both of his hands work to carefully connect your wrist in an x-formation. Once satisfied by your compliance, he slides one of his hands over both to latch on, pushing them down — yet still giving you plenty of room to escape if something doesn’t feel right.

(For the first time in over six months, everything feels perfectly in place.)

Panting against his mouth to catch your breath, a floating thought comes to mind once again.

So you speak. “Do you think the others—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupts, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You follow his lead, tilting your chin up to meet him. “I do not fucking care right now, James.”

His candidness earns him a gentle giggle, and you feel the slightest shift against your lips:

A smile of his own.

You tap his hip cascaded by the disheveled fabric of his white button-down with your knee.

“Then take this off.”

The kisses cease at your request — no, demand — and Levi pulls away enough to stare down into yours.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Those beautiful gray eyes, stormy with droplets of blue — you realize the deep hurt in your belly is a pang of loss.

You say it before you can regret holding it back.

"I missed you."

His expression smooths with how earnest you sound beneath him, before clearing his throat.

“Which part?” he asks, voice slightly strained from the efforts of holding back.

You blink twice. "Which part?"

"Of me, yeah."

Searching his face, you decide to play along.

“Are you going to get mad if I say all of you?”

His eyes narrow. “Lazy.”

The flatness of his joke earns a genuine belly laugh from you. 

Levi lets go of your wrists to sit up, nudging your legs apart so he can wriggle out of the way. You easily comply, careful to leave your boots hanging off of the bed when you widen your thighs.

Stepping away from the bed, he bends over first to remove both of your boots, then his own.

Any other time he’d have a conniption over the dirt, the grime, that you’ve brought into this bed.

(If there was one thing to remember about your past, it was that people from the Underground City could still be just as clean as anyone else. So much time spent cleaning the endless grit from under your nails; an impossible feat.)

Even if dirt was a sin, apparently you were not.

He doesn’t even blink at the specs that may very well still be in your hair.

Instead he’s focused on watching your face as he unfastens the harness at his sternum, shrugging out of his own leather straps. Tossed carelessly to the floor, he rips off his dirtied cravat and ODM gear skirt next.

Pressing a knee into the mattress, he rejoins you on the bed to reach for your chest.

He hesitates, throat bobbing with fleeting uncertainty before he begins to slip the leather through its loop.

“Sit up for me.”

You acquiesce, sore muscles protesting the movement as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

He’s softer with his movements when it comes to your uniform, pulling it apart piece by piece, as if afraid one false move will ruin this dream.

It’s not a dream, you want to tell him. I’m right here. I’ve always been right here. I won’t be going anywhere ever again.

You don’t.

Can’t, not when you’re so mesmerized by the way he pauses at the first button of your shirt.

For a short moment he meets your gaze, studying it, before nodding once.

One by one, deft fingers unbutton your shirt until it’s hanging from your frame, revealing a chest band. All of the air rushes from his lungs in one swift woosh, until you realize—

The scars.

Shit.

The dreamy spell is broken, and soon you find yourself scrambling for something that will quell any negative emotion bubbling in his belly at the sheer sight of your body.

A part of you wants to cover up, act coy and switch roles —

But clever Levi, forever two steps ahead, dives right in to kiss the one of the many healing scars littering your body after the fall — the jagged line just above your left breast — with such fierce devotion that the gesture nearly knocks the damn wind of your lungs.

“Beautiful.”

The murmur is tattooed into your skin, invisible to the wandering eye.

“So—”

He unsnaps the bind.

“—fucking—”

Like a feral animal, his hand tugs once, twice, until it gives and unravels.

“—beautiful.”

Levi forgets himself when his eyes meet your breasts, and you see the way his pupils damn near dilate at the sight.

His lips part, slick from the way he licks between them, before he exhales one single curse like it's a prayer.

“Fuck.”

You stay perfectly still on your elbows, perched on an incline in his bed.

At a loss for words as he stares at your torso like it’s a work of art, your heart hammers in your chest as you telepathically plead with him to simply do whatever he wishes.

Anything he desires, so long as he moves.

Your voice dissolves to a whimper.

“Levi—”

“Can I?”

“Please.”

His own voice crackles like a spark readying a flame. You want to feel him, separated by the absence of muscle memory; to have his hands, his lips, scorched on your skin forevermore.

Levi gives into temptation and kisses south, his nose tracing in a straight line until both hands hold your breasts.

Hot sighs heavily flutter across your skin before those very lips kiss the rising bud they’d been seeking, causing your back to arch clear off of the bed. You whine, trying desperately to stay quiet.

Levi’s too busy worshipping the nipple in his mouth to chastise you for the sound.

His tongue swirls to harden it faster while his other hand massages the other breast, his calloused thumb rolling in the same direction.

Your nails dig into the sheets, anchoring your hands from clawing up his back.

“Levi.”

He hums around your nipple as his answer, its tone dismissive.

When you’re brave enough to open your eyes, you see that his eyes are completely closed — softened in an otherworldly ecstasy at the sheer feel of your body against his.

The sight shoots a dizzying amount of arousal to your belly.

When he switches it up and sucks, those eyes lazily open to stare up at you: a challenge to let him stay like this, to never leave.

He wouldn’t have to ask twice.

If this was your entire night, with Levi’s mouth on your chest while he lives in the memories of you old and new, then you’re inclined to say that there are worse ways to spend your time.

(No, you’re happy to say like this forever.)

Except a chill passes over your pampered breast as Levi kisses across it, abandoning your nipple to trail to the other side — 

Fuck.

“You’re going to kill me,” you rasp, too worked up to care if you sound wrecked.

“Won’t,” is all he replies as he dives back in, worshipping your body.

“Will,” you grit, trying your damnedest not to cry out from just how good it feels.

With one final kiss to your nipple, Levi detaches with mercy to shrug the pesky white button-down off of his shoulders.

The fabric joins the mounting pile of clothes on the floor, but his hands hesitate when they touch his belt.

His eyes notably flicker to your belt — a pause.

Deciding.

If it’s too soon—

If it’s too much —

No, you want to cry out. It’s not enough.

The words die on your tongue, possessed by the ghost that’s plagued your mind for months.

Instead you take action: sitting up on the bed, overly eager fingers tremble as they begin to unbuckle his belt, working at the leather straps crisscrossing his thighs and calves. 

“James.”

His voice is dying on his tongue; a singular syllable of surprise.

“Let me.”

You notice the way his abdomen tenses at your words as you tug the first belt from its loops.

“Are you s—”

“I said,” you slowly repeat, moving closer to kiss the trail of dark hair peppering just under his belly button. Levi exhales like he’s been punched. “Let. Me.”

Punctuating each word to show your seriousness, your eyes meet as he stares below.

Inch by inch, you press slow, meaningful kisses in his skin — first to the left, curving towards his hip. 

Your hands push down the trousers of his uniform pants, using the strength to drag the leather straps wrapping around his legs to fall with them.

Levi stands before you in merely white briefs, and there’s no hiding the immense arousal straining against the thin fabric.

The sight causes your breath to simply evaporate from your lungs, unable to stop staring.

From your peripheral you see the hand at his side flex then snatch into a fist to combat the desire to touch you.

He must feel guilt.

He must be so terrified that this moment will simply evaporate like the rest of your memories.

That you may have woken up, yes, but you can still fall back asleep.

You refuse.

“You can touch me,” you murmur into his skin, and Levi’s throat bobs. 

When he doesn’t move, you take the first at his side and systematically uncurl every finger.

He lets you.

Slowly, calculated, you raise his hand until it’s running over the crown of your head. His nostrils flare as he takes control, abandoning the guide of your hand to cup the side of your face.

A gentle thumb smears across your lower lip in reverence.

“I won’t break,” you tell him, knowing he’ll protest. Your voice drops to a hush. “I won’t.”

“I know,” is all he can reply — then your back hits the bed again, and he drops to his knees at the edge of the bed.

Levi disappears from your immediate line of sight, but you feel pressure on your hips: inch by inch, he’s undone the belt and buttons and yanked your uniform down your thighs, your knees, until they’re hanging at your ankles.

Oh.

One by one, he slips your feet from the pants and uses your ankles to widen your knees, bearing you to him at eye-level in just your white cotton underwear.

“Shit.” 

A feeble gasp escapes when his lips start at your left foot. 

You can’t see him, only feel him — he presses a tender kiss to your ankle then another just above it, creating a careful line up to your calf. His fingers gingerly curl around it to keep you steady as he ascends with his lips touching every single inch he can.

When he reaches your knee, you see it: the darkness in his gaze, how stormy his eyes have become, while making direct contact with you.

“Levi,” you moan, refusing to look away as he makes a point to stare at you while he nudges your left thigh further out to keep kissing it.

Stay awake.

Don’t forget this.

Don’t ever forget this again.

“Can I?” he asks, and you nearly miss the question in your intoxicated, aroused state.

You know.

You know exactly what he’s asking to do.

There’s no chance in hell you’d ever say no.

Wordlessly you nod, but Levi’s tongue darts out to taste the skin of your inner thigh. “Say it.”

(Fuck, when did he get so demanding?)

“Yes,” you exhale. “Yes, I want this. Want you.”

He doesn’t answer with words — a mere wanting growl takes their place.

Raven-black hair tickles your bare skin as he shifts, and strong arms drop to your rope under your knees.

With one swift tug, he drags you directly against his face, and the world becomes a myriad of brilliant colors.

Even if it’s a mere kiss to the cloth of your dampened underwear, you whine from the sheer desire flooding through your veins.

Maybe in another life, you would have teased him for his eagerness.

Maybe before the fall, you would have made him work for it, asked him to crawl to you, to beg.

Not this time.

You don’t have time to be coy, not when it’s been so long.

The tip of his tongue sensually drags up the center of your underwear, the slowness obscene. Your head slams back into the mattress with a soundless cry. 

The hot puffs of his breath tickle your inner thighs as he continues to swirl his tongue against the final barrier between you and his mouth.

“Please,” you beg, throwing all dignity to the wind.

He doesn’t seem to hear you.

Levi’s hands grip your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he continues to gather the taste of you on your panties.

When you have the courage to watch him again, you see that his eyes are closed.

Like he’s found some kind of paradise right here.

With you.

“Levi,” you whimper louder, voice terribly shattered, “Levi, Levi, please—”

His moans against your clothed clit damn near scrambles your brain.

Finally ending your torture, he pulls away to tug your soaked underwear down your thighs, your knees, until they drop to the floor of their own volition.

“Been dreaming of this,” he finally states, his voice several octaves lower and cracked. “The goddamn taste of you—”

He cuts himself off when he runs his thumbs down your folds, parting them with his thumbs.

If you weren’t so eager, then maybe you’d be embarrassed by how wet you were.

Dripping, really, from the way he worshipped your chest only minutes ago.

You almost scream when he dives in and kisses your clit, before his tongue languidly glides against it. By some miracle, you don’t.

His thumbs leave you in favor of holding open your legs for him as he feasts, refusing to allow them to close from the shock of the forgotten sensation.

With one hand grabbing the pillow above your head while the other threads through his hair, you’re unable to take your eyes away from how thoroughly he eats you out.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper, and the vibrations of his groans of agreeance damn near take you out.

The captain’s tongue explores every atom of you as if it has navigated this journey more times than he can count; as if he knows you better than you know yourself.

Because a part of you can remember —

The things you like.

The things you don’t like.

The hazy desires that plague heated dreams at night.

Yet Levi reaffirms them, teaches your body language right back to you, as his eyes lift from his task to yours to watch you watching him devour you whole.

Mesmerized, you stare back.

His lips close around your clit and suck as if to challenge you to look away, but all you can do is tense your abdomen and moan, louder this time, while your eyes flutter.

Stay open.

Don’t ever forget.

Lips parted with shaken breath, you witness this man mercilessly pleasures you.

Stares, so he knows that you’re still taken by him.

Worships, so he can remember what it’s like to finally have you in his bed after so many months apart.

It won’t take long to fall clear over the edge.

Not at this rate.

But you don’t want it to be over.

“Wait,” you whisper, “wait, I’m almost — I want you in—”

The second syllable of that word is lost in a sharp cry to the ceiling when he abandons solely sucking on your clit to focus instead on flickering side to side, rapidly, ensuring you’ll come no matter how badly you want to fall into bliss alongside him.

There’s no chance you can stave it off.

Your climax, a damn near year in the making, approaches like a bursting star.

“Levi—” you breathe, higher pitched than usual. “Levi, Levi, Le—”

You can’t finish the next syllable before you're surging off of the mattress, and he shoves you down against it by the hips so you don’t hurt yourself.

The world morphs and shapes into brilliant bright colors in the back of your skull as you come, and you do your damnedest not to shout.

As soon as your moan reaches its peak, your hand manages to smack against your mouth, muffling the strained screech.

His tongue slows down, instead focused on leisurely catching your essence with his mouth.

Greedily collecting every last drop.

So he doesn’t have to dream anymore, you realize.

So he never goes without again.

Panting heavily, your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to remember which way is up.

“Holy shit.”

That doesn’t even begin to describe how otherworldly you feel at this moment.

“Levi…”

When you finally open your eyes, you see him resting his cheek against the inside of your thigh, nose and mouth glistening with the essence of you.

You’re not sure who is more satisfied.

“You okay?” he asks, softly this time.

Hardly a whisper.

You nod wordlessly, but hold your hand out for him. “Please?”

“Please what?”

“Let me have you.”

A storm flashes across his expression as he stands from the floor, his knee coming to rest on the edge of the mattress.

You can tell he isn’t putting his whole weight on it, avoiding the creaking of the bed frame as he contemplates.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his fingertips running up and down your thigh absently.

“Why?”

“Because it’s been a while.”

The wandering fingers travel up, toying with the mess between your legs. Your hips jerk from oversensitivity, and a ghost of a smug smile passes across his lips.

“And I’m not rushing this.”

“Why?” you repeat, this time in a whine.

“Like I said—”

He begins, testing the give of your entrance as his middle finger pushes its tip into you.

You sharply gasp, forcing him to instantly stop. Those gray eyes flicker to your face.

“—it’s been a while.”

“I don’t care,” you state. “I can take it.”

“Well I do, so deal with it.”

There.

That commanding tone reserved for his position as captain pokes through, and it shoots straight to your lower belly.

Rocking your hips to try and force more of his finger into you, you shake your head wildly.

“You do realize that the more —”

His fingertip eases out, causing you to cry out in frustration. “Shh.”

There’s only so much sanity left in your body to plead your case.

“It — ah — the more time we spend away from the others downstairs—”

“As much as I like hearing you talk,” he reassures, voice dropping to a husk of its former self, “I really don’t want to discuss the whereabouts of anyone else when I could have my fingers inside you instead.”

Then that same finger suddenly pushes.

One knuckle.

Two.

Your head drops back when he buries his middle finger into you, unapologetic.

His free palm drops to the side of your head as he hovers over you, easing you to relax as he pushes one finger in and out.

The fringe of his black hair falls over his eyes, his face flushed with inexplicable lust.

“Do you remember our rule?”

Do you really expect me to think straight now? is what you want to say.

Instead you keep your eyes on him as he fucks you on one finger, too tight yet not nearly enough. You maintain eye contact, scrambling for an answer.

“With what?”

When his finger curls, you have to bite your tongue not to shriek.

“C’mon, James,” he purrs, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit, “what’s my rule for you?”

Rules.

Rules, rules, rules—

Then it clicks, the puzzle piece unearthed deep from your psyche.

“Three,” you weakly whimper, realizing just what’s about to happen.

When we had our own place—

He nudges his index finger beside his middle finger, opening you up more.

You widen your legs with little shame, sinking into the sheets as this man thoroughly takes you apart in his captain’s bed.

—I always said I’d give you three.

“Think you can give me it?” he asks with feigned confidence.

You know what he’s really asking:

Is this too much?

Am I moving too fast?

Would this be taking advantage too soon?

The opposite; what he’s doing isn’t enough, because you know what you want.

You need to give him what he wants first before you reach your goal.

Belatedly, you nod emphatically.

“Good,” is all he replies in that baritone voice of his, before dropping down to kiss you when he curls his fingers again, relentlessly fucking you.

The kiss is maddening. Searing. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you try to keep up with the messy press of lips, all too eager to indulge in what it means to feel alive.

This.

This is what home feels like.

You never had to build it with nails and wood and insulation.

It was always in the person hovering above you, working you open with a sneaky third finger that causes a pathetic strangled moan to die on your lips the second his tongue dips into your mouth.

Relentless.

You’re so far gone that you don’t even realize you’ve already come a second time.

It’s Levi who pulls back, looking down at his hand as he keeps curling his fingers into you.

“Shit, already? Can feel you getting tighter– Fuck, James.”

Shaking from the less intense but no less amazing orgasm, you come silently on his hand as you melt into the sheets.

Stars blur your vision like the first snow of a winter.

Weightless.

Watching Levi pull his fingers out of you to immediately put them into his mouth, licking each digit clean, is an out of body experience.

Nothing to waste, nothing to lose — he relishes in the taste lingering on his tongue before you leisurely nudge him with your knee.

He’s still wearing his underwear, but his cock is practically ready to burst through the fabric. His hardness looks painful, the flush of his skin prominent against the ivory cotton.

“...do we still have condoms?”

Your voice is faint, an exhale at best.

His eyes widen briefly before his jaw clenches, and his hair flutters as he nods.

“Yeah. They… should be expiring in about two months.”

“But not right now.”

Levi considers your inquiry, searching your face. “Not right now, no.”

A moment of content silence passes, his eyes glued to yours.

You want to reassure him that you’re more than ready, that it’s been too fucking long since you’ve had him, that you need this more than anything you’ve ever needed in your life.

You can’t.

All you can do is beg, as you have this whole day.

“Please?”

His head drops in defeat, shoulders slumping.

All of the air leaves his lungs as he leaves your side to rummage in the nightstand by his bed, and you can see it clear as day on the hand that is still pressed to the mattress:

He’s trembling.

Sitting up on your elbow, you reach to gently place your palm over it. His attention whips back to you, first staring at your joined hands before looking back at you.

“Are you sure?” the captain asks, looking for complete and utter consent.

You open your mouth to respond, but Levi curls his fist over the condom foil and sits up taller.

His hand lifts the two of your hands together, switching their positions so your palm ends up on his cheek.

In a tender moment, his lips press a chaste kiss to its center.

“We can wait if it’s too much.”

You shake your head wildly. “It’s not too much.”

“You only just—”

“Levi.”

Exasperated, you crawl around him to slowly hike your bare leg over his hip.

Hovering over his lap, his eyes round when you snap the waistband of his briefs between pinched fingers. Instinctively his hand reaches to steady your bare hip.

“I know you have every good reason to worry that I could change my mind. That I could forget.”

He flinches, if only for a fraction of a second.

“But I never left you. I never stopped wanting to be near you. I never…”

Trailing off, you realize.

The words are right there on your tongue.

The image flashes through your mind: two kids just barely making sense of this cruel world, tangled together, when his whispered words tickled the shell of your ear.

Words that would change your life forever.

“I never stopped loving you.”

With a single blink, the lines on Levi’s weary face soften.

The captain’s throat bobs, swallowing the emotions that come with your confession. 

He speaks with a conviction unlike anything you’ve ever heard.

“...I never stopped loving you, too.”

Joy blossoms in the center of your chest as you lean in, capturing his lips in a kiss that seals the promise of forever. He kisses back just as eagerly, his hands leaving your body to push his underwear hastily down his hips. 

You hear the tear of a wrapper foil, feel the shuffling of his hands between your bodies, before lining up the tip of himself against your entrance.

You both stop.

Testing the give with a gentle nudge, you both let out a gut-punch exhale.

“Want you to set the pace,” he states against your lips, trying his damnedest to keep his voice from shaking. “Take whatever you want from me. It’s always been yours.”

Yours.

Nose to nose, you allow him to hold his hard and eager cock steady as you wrap your hand around the back of his neck for an anchor.

Levi lets out a shaken breath when you begin to sink, face flushed with sweat and arousal.

No going back.

(You never want to leave again.)

Inch by inch, you ease yourself onto Levi’s cock. Your eyelids flutter from the sheer ecstasy of finally, finally, having him inside you again.

The captain seated beneath you is oh, so focused, nostrils flared as he bites back a heavy groan.

Although it takes baby steps to get there — you rock your hips and fuck the tip of him, your body slowly relaxing enough to take up more of him — you eventually end up seated with your legs wrapped around his waist.

Levi instinctively curls a strong arm around your waist to keep you in place, looking utterly wrecked as he fully submits to your will. His brows are screwed tightly together, eyes struggling to stay open — to watch.

So you watch him, too.

When you lift yourself off of his cock and drag back down to the hilt, you both groan in harmony.

You can’t help it.

A smile bursts on your lips, stretched wide.

This.

This is where you’ve longed to be.

You roll your hips and ride your captain with reverence.

The room reverberates with the sound of skin against skin, your moans and his grunts, the squeak of a well-worn mattress on an ancient wooden frame.

To hell with subtly.

You don’t care who hears downstairs.

Once he has his own emotions under control, Levi memorizes your pace and begins to buck up in a thrust from below.

You gasp, and you see it: he smirks, his own confidence gaining on him.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, his words as finite as ash. “Fuck, there she is.”

The praise has your blood singing, burning, as you bounce on his cock with an urgency to bring him to his long-awaited climax — and your third. 

“I love you,” you tell him, earning a bitten-off grunt for him.

“Fuck, don’t,” he begs as he matches your pace, bringing himself deeper. “I’ll cum so fast.”

“Maybe I want that,” you tease.

“James,” he warns, pinching your nipple as punishment.

You can’t help but cry out, head dropping back. Levi takes the golden opportunity to lean in, kissing the column of your neck to mask his own needy moans.

The fingers once rolling your nipple as you ride him glide down your belly until they catch your clit, causing you to collapse into his chest. You whimper, and you can hear the utter filth against your ear as Levi picks up the pace.

“Love you.” You clench around him, causing him to hiss. “Shit, I love you so goddamn much. Feel so fucking good.”

“Levi—”

“I got you,” he promises, holding you up as he pounds into you from below. “Won’t let you fall. Gonna make me cum so hard, s’like you were made for me — fuck…”

He loses his train of thought as his fingers rub your clit in furious circles, desperate to get you to the same edge where he hovers.

Over and over you moan out his name, unable to even think straight as pleasure succumbs and fills every vein in your body.

From the way his rhythm is faltering, you know:

He’s close.

You’re not very far behind.

“I love you,” you tell him one more time under your breath, unable to say anything else beyond that and broken variations of his name.

His thrusts become more urgent as he answers between clenched teeth.

“I love you, too.”

“Let go.” 

You wrap your arms around his body to hold him close. 

“I’ll catch you, just let go.”

For what it’s worth, he holds on for a few seconds more. 

He gives you the performance of a lifetime as he thrusts up into you, running after his orgasm with a desperation reserved for you and you alone.

Then you feel it.

Levi grabs the back of your head and slams his lips to yours in one final, devastating kiss before you abruptly come around him.

Your muscles spasm and clamp down around him, milking him for all he’s worth before he’s moaning loudly against your mouth. 

He’s forced to fall off the deep end with you, coming inside you. 

You leisurely ride him through your joined orgasms until his hand comes to your hip, stilling your movements.

Eventually the fingers at your clit still, pressing against it to feel its erratic heart beat.

Forehead to forehead, the two of you stay here, catching your breath—

Refusing to part.

.

Author's Note:

taylor swift vc: it's been a long time coming...

If you've been around my blog for the last several months, then you know I got hit with the author curse (seasonal depression kicked my ass, my day job issued an RTO mandate, I was sick a few times, I have a surgery in late February) so the creative juices were not there. Apologies (and the biggest thanks!) to all who have been waiting so very patiently. To readers old and new, I am so grateful for your reblogs, comments, and inbox messages.

So I ask, after five long months away from you: how are we doing, Jevi Nation?

[rivai-hana]

Homicide 🤣

except eren

This conversation is from the addms family 2