#“dni if you like Attack On Titan”

[martitheevans]

My dni list is:

DNI if your DNI list has as fandom in it

[tender-hearteddd]

thinking about how the few characters close to bertholdt chose to exploit him for their own dreams and goals and taking it very personally lolz

his very own “best friends” didnt even leave him with not even a shred of comfort or closure; he was a good boy who just wanted his father to be okay and he died without ever knowing whether all the atrocities he committed had even saved his father in the first place from the colonial power that is marley

the only thing he’s ever wanted was to protect the ones he loves and his love ones can’t even acknowledge his pain or what he went through when he was used as their scapegoat for their crimes. eren literally changed the whole course of history to exploit him in order for the rumbling to happen yet bertholdt is still blamed for thst shit. he didn’t get to have any dreams or aspirations bc he was too busy worrying abt reiner losing his mind. his last few moments was fighting to stop the inevitable slaughter that will continue if he doesn’t fight. he doesn’t want to put any more people through the hell he will always reside in - that is why he fights, and he didn’t even get to accomplish this goal. literally everybody else in the whole entirety of the manga got to accomplish whatever their goal was, all the other characters got a consolation prize. what does he get? his want to protect the people he loves was twisted into some sinister evil goal by the majority of the aot fandom like the scouts didnt enable a whole ass genocide in the name of….friendship i guess?

bertholdt cared about the warrior candidates before he even met them. bertholdt cares about anyone who’s ever been lost. no one even cares about his pain, no one ever cares that he was exploited. he’s just there, he came and he left and he had to accept that he will forever be a weapon for a country that hates him and a monster to the people said country sent him off to kill.

[hua-fei-hua]

You like dungeon meshi too?? Do you have ANY bad opinions?! lol

according to legend, no

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part four.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), sex work, pet names, alcohol, mentions of drugs, jokes about death Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part three. / return to part one. | masterlist

Night comes around.

You do not call.

In fact, you don't call the Scout Services Hotline a single time that whole weekend.

As you scroll mindlessly through social media in your bed, fluttering between apps without retaining a single word or meme, your cell phone weighs heavily in your hand.

Don't call.

Just don't call.

It isn't like you're devoid of things to do.

Going out is an option.

Being around people may help your mood — but you don’t feel like unearthing from your snuggie poncho.

Putting on a movie can be a great distraction — but you know your attention span would barely last through the opening credits.

It was him.

Right there.

Right in front of you.

Levi from Scout Services, alive and in the flesh, holding your phone.

No amount of mental gymnastics can make you doubt otherwise. 

He has a voice like no other; one that haunts your day dreams and soothes your nightmares, one that brings this sudden urge to do better for yourself—

Ironically, to be independent and strong on your own.

Which, actually, really fucking sucks now that you’re stuck with the decision to totally disappear from the gym, too.

(Kind of thwarts the whole ‘new me’ chest-puffing you’d started Friday with.)

So you make a final decision:

You still have to go to the gym Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Even if you say nothing, keep to yourself, remain a shadow, you have to go.

(There’s a fragile line drawn in the sands of reality. You can toe the edge, but you refuse to. This is his livelihood. You’re not delusional to believe you’re a main character exception.)

Coincidentally, Levi goes every day, too. 

Your stomach flip-flops with the unsettling realization that your perch on a treadmill actually gives you a perfect vantage point to watch him as he sets his station up every morning.

Meticulously he sets towels down to place his shaker bottle and water thermos down, as if worried the ground hadn’t been cleaned overnight.

He even takes the disinfectant cloths and cleans every dumbbell he lines up neatly before starting his workout.

The dark-haired man truly is less-than-average in height, which isn’t a turn-off to you in the slightest, but his arms — his goddamn arms.

Levi wasn’t kidding when he told you that he could pick you up.

He could probably pick two of you up, one arm each.

They’re so toned, his forearms veiny from morning dehydration.

Training vigorously in his own world, not once does he notice that you’re the bumbling idiot that’s tripped on the treadmill (see: a few times) from dissociating.

Hell, he hasn’t a single fucking clue that you’re close enough to yell across the room to him.

Would he know?

That you’re Scarlet.

His, in some made-up world.

(Does your voice stand out in a sea of lonely people?)

The cleaning ritual extends to his cooldown, where he properly cleans each piece of equipment before nestling it back in its place.

Levi sits on his phone for a second, dropping down to a bench to scroll — text messages.

(Damn it, have you really resorted to minor stalking?)

As soon as he stands, though, you drop your chin to watch your sneakers rhythmically pass one another on the treadmill belt.

He passes like a ghost, evaporating into the men’s locker room without a word.

This is torture.

You miss him.

But you still refuse to call.

Can't — because in another world you may be his, but in this world, he is not yours.

.

.

— —

.

.

    Tuesday night rolls around and you decide you hate life.

Annie, Eren, Reiner, and Mikasa are already there by the time you walk into the downtown hotspot.

The boys as well as Mikasa are still in their suit attire from work, their ties loosened at their necks. Annie’s in a hoodie and jeans, clearly much more interested in having a comfortable evening.

If the emptied shot glasses are any indicator of the plans for this evening, then you steel yourself for one hell of a Wednesday.

You glide through the busy crowds of the bar towards the group.

Bodies upon bodies crowd this place — it’s never not a zoo at this hour, no matter the day. Saying excuse me would only waste breath. 

A live band croons on the far end of the smoky bar, forcing everyone to talk ten decibels higher just to hear the conversation.

(Can’t you turn around and go home while you’re ahead?)

In the sea of people, a pair of emerald green eyes over by a cluster of tables in the right-hand corner catch your movement. They widen, recognizing your face, and a lopsided grin of surprise follows.

“Holy shit, she left her cave!” Eren yells, holding up a cheap beer in salute to your arrival.

(Thanks Jeager, you little fuck.)

You don’t hear what she says, but you can see Mikasa’s lips part in tandem with a sharp elbow jab straight to his ribs.

Eren instantly falters his salute, souring in pain.

“I know. Don’t be so shocked,” you state to your colleagues, leaning up against the circular high-top table. “Am I the last to show?”

“Nah, you’re right on time. Armin and Jean’re on their way,” Reiner grunts, holding onto a comically small cosmopolitan in his rather large hand. “Sasha’s on babysitting duty with Nicco.”

You look around the bar for any other familiar faces.

“And Connie?”

“Passed out,” Mikasa supplies. “Took edibles after work.”

“There’s no chance in hell anyone’s waking him,” Eren snorts. “Fucker’s toast.”

Reiner sighs. “For what it’s worth, Jean tried.”

“No, Armin tried,” Annie corrects, finally piping up. She holds something on the rocks — brandy? Whiskey? You can’t tell. “Jean just laughed and kept trying to draw shit on his face.”

“You didn’t see the Snapchat he sent?” Eren asks after a gulp of his beer.

You shake your head, knowing damn well you’ve avoided using your phone for the last several days. 

Missed texts, abandoned tagged tweets, your streak in your mobile game ruined — anything so you wouldn’t be tempted to click that little number.

Damn it.

Enough wallowing.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you state, disengaging with the table. “Anyone need anything?”

From your peripheral, you see a familiar mop of blonde hair walking towards your group. At his side is a much taller man sliding through the crowd, navigating the shorter one to the tiny table you’ve commandeered from the masses.

Armin and Jean.

Reiner and Annie shake their heads.

“Nope, I’m solid.”

“Good here.”

“Eren’s got the next round of shots,” Mikasa flatly states. “You’re fine.”

“Ha, hell yeah!” Eren exclaims, before he settles into a confused pause of silence. His head whips to Mikasa, blinking twice. “Wait, what?”

You don’t stick around for that aftermath.

Squeezing back into the lion’s den of people, you try not to get hit with any too-full beverages or waving hands.

You manage to weave and duck, eventually finding a small empty corner at the edge of the bar.

Success.

You rush to claim it before someone else can, your forearm on the wooden surface. 

Holding up two fingers to get the one of the three bartender’s attention, she nods once to acknowledge she sees you — she’ll get there eventually.

Two empty stools are available, so you scoot onto the one closest to the wall while waiting for your turn and drop your purse onto the other while you situate yourself. 

It’ll likely take a while if the busyness of the staff has anything to say about it.

An hour.

All you need to do is last one whole hour.

Chat a bit, mingle a little so everyone at work doesn’t think you’re a total goddamn recluse, then you can go—

“Is this seat taken?”

A question sounding to your left breaks your train of thought.

The seat.

The one next to you, where your purse lay.

Way to go, dumbass.

You answer on autopilot, not thinking twice about it.

“Oh — shit, yeah. I mean, no! No it’s not. I’m sorry.”

As your torso turns to grab your purse off of the deep red stool, your eyes drop to make sure nothing spills out of it.

“Hold on, let me just move—”

Your chin lifts to find yourself staring eye to eye with Levi.

Wait.

Levi?!

His cheekbones look even sharper under the warm hue of the bar lights overhead, lips parted like he was interrupted in asking a question.

The whites of his eyes grow more prominent with every passing second, making the blue-gray color of them stand out in stark contrast to the black curtain of fringe falling against his temples.

The realization that you spoke — that he’s seen your face before — seems to be hitting him like a goddamn freight train.

Your blood runs cold as your own eyes round.

“...my stuff.”

Weakly you finish your thought, wishing for nothing but death right now. 

Maybe a stranger, like a secret agent with wicked strength, will simply rush the bar and put you in a headlock and knock you out. 

Maybe your drink will be poisoned. 

You’re happy for anything so long as it’s swift.

Levi grunts in acknowledgement, slowly finding a spot on the empty stool beside yours.

Both of you swivel towards the bar, staring ahead.

Silence.

For what feels like hours, neither of you speak. The noise of the bar becomes overwhelming.

Somehow the surrounding voices feel amplified when you’ve lost your own. 

It’s trapped between a thousand apologies and half a dozen explanations that sound worse than the one before it.

You need to get up.

Excuse yourself out. 

Leave.

You won’t get your damn drink, but that’s fine so long as you’re not here.

“How’s your phone?”

Eventually Levi speaks, and you find yourself wishing he hadn’t. 

The effect of his voice is even worse in person — so buttery smooth, the gravel much deeper in his chest now that there isn’t a phone receiver to dilute it.

“Not… damaged,” you reply cautiously.

“Good.”

Another stretch of silence passes, and you forget about ordering drinks altogether.

Your eyes drop to view his folded hands, how the veins protrude even when resting.

His fingers are slender, strong, and hate yourself for yearning.

You have to apologize.

This is crossing a line.

You need to—

“So—”

“I’m canceling my subscription.”

You blurt a fraction later than Levi, proclaiming your innocence before he can ever condemn it.

When you meet his steely eyes, they squint with curiosity.

From the crown of your head to your chin, he assesses in a serpentine pattern before eventually finding your eyes once more.

“How come?” he asks, leaning further against the bar top.

“I— how come?”

You repeat his question in surprise.

Wildly gesturing towards the space between you with your hand, you snort.

“Uh, because that’s the right thing to do in this circumstance? Because seeing you in person is borderline unethical?”

He hums at that, not giving you much to work with.

“And for the record, I did not stalk you to this bar.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“I’m actually here with friends—”

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

Levi interrupts, seemingly unbothered by your rambling. 

“At the gym. I can make an educated guess and say you knew it was me from the second I opened my trap, but you didn’t say anything.”

Why isn’t he freaking out?

Shouldn’t he be freaking out?

Just as you open your mouth to continue professing your innocence, the bartender walks over and points to you.

“What can I get you?”

You blanch, no longer remember how to order drinks. 

“I—”

“I got her tab,” Levi interrupts casually, tapping his index finger into the counter. “Two hard seltzers.”

Then he has the audacity to glance your way.

“Pineapple, right?”

Holy shit, he remembers your favorite flavor?

Is this a flex?

(It kind of feels like a flex; a way to say I know you, I was there.)

“...pineapple’s fine,” you murmur in return, hesitant.

The bartender doesn’t waste another second to rummage in the mini fridge on the other side of the bar for two slim cans.

For another agonizing thirty seconds, neither of you say a word.

He raises his chin to watch whatever sport’s game is playing overhead on the television.

You stare at your mirrored reflection in the bar backsplash.

This is real life.

The man you’ve spent hours talking to over the phone to, getting off to, is sitting right beside you, yet he isn’t trying to create distance.

If anything, he’s buying you a damn drink and asking you why.

Why didn’t you say something?

“I didn’t say anything at the gym because that would have been extremely inappropriate,” you finally argue under your breath, keeping the conversation strictly between you. “What would I have said? ‘Oh hey, guy I've paid to talk to on the phone every single night for the past week. Isn’t it crazy that I actually go to the same gym as you?’ That’s so creepy.” 

When he says nothing, still staring at you, you continue to bury yourself into a deeper grave.

“I mean, I thought you lived, like… a billion miles from me. Maybe from another planet.”

His brows pinch with amusement. 

“On Mars, or…?”

Oh.

He’s joking.

He’s actually joking about this.

You turn your chin, brow furrowed. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and you have to force yourself to maintain eye contact.

“I wondered why you looked so scared of me on Friday. Thought maybe I smelled like shit from my workout.”

No, you want to say. Unfortunately it was the goddamn opposite.

“So you’re not…”

“Worried you’re a stalker trying to dox me because of my job?”

Levi blatantly finishes, and you wince.

Clearly he notices your embarrassment, because he sighs and relaxes his shoulders.

“I’m more pissed that you didn’t call all weekend, but then again, that’s the nature of the job.”

You both watch each other for a moment as the bartender returns, passing you both pineapple hard seltzers to nurse.

He pushes your can to your hand, nudging the icy-cold aluminum against your thumb, then picks up his own.

“The nature of the job?” you repeat, and he nods.

“People get bored. Run out of funds. Novelty wears off fast.” 

Levi shrugs, sipping his drink. 

“Just because you like talking to someone doesn’t mean they stick around. Wouldn’t blame 'em — shit gets expensive quick.”

“I just…”

You trail off, fighting to find the correct words to say.

“...I thought it wasn’t right to call again, knowing I knew what you looked like, so I didn’t.” 

Explaining yourself makes your tongue feel sluggish, like you were caught red-handed in a crime you didn’t know you’d committed until hindsight.

“I can leave you alone,” you decide to add, holding your drink tighter. “Like I said, I’m here with my friends and… after all, you were doing your job. A great job. You’re kind of the reason I’m even here in the first place.”

Levi’s brow knits, and your eyes widen.

“Not like that!”

“Pretty shit at asserting yourself even in person,” he murmurs like it’s a cheeky inside joke, and he sips once more. “So how am I the reason?”

He’s not angry.

Hell, he’s conversational.

Not the least bit worried about how you’ve both managed to get here.

Might as well be honest.

“Because I decided to stop being a little less scared of the world,” you confess softly. “It— That’s why I got to the gym so early on Friday. I wanted to start doing strength training, like how you talk about how much you love it. And… I thought, maybe, I’d spend more time with friends. Get out there more. Be more assertive — beyond right now, obviously.”

The dark-haired man’s expression smooths at that in a mixture of recognition and surprise.

The slide of his brow is beautiful, and your heart squeezes at the sight of an animated Levi in the flesh, just as you pictured.

“Do you have to go back to your friends right now?”

At first you don’t quite register his question, but then it causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

He looks left to right, as if trying to find your troop of buddies, before returning his attention back to you.

“You don’t… want me to leave?”

Levi shakes his head.

You feel bolted to your stool, unable to move even if you wanted to.

Simultaneously you sip your drinks, keeping eye contact.

It feels intimate.

Too intimate.

“So, then…” You start slowly. “What does this mean?”

“Well,” Levi begins, mulling it over in his head. “Means the whole provider-client relationship has basically gone to shit. You know my face, now I know yours.”

“Right.”

“Then again, that professionalism was already well into a shit pile way before Friday morning.”

You blink, not following. “Huh?”

“There’s nothing in the company policy about what to do when you stumble into your client at the damn local gym, but there sure as hell wasn’t anything about…”

Levi trails off, clenching his jaw in debate.

“...about crossing the line I practically leapt over. I’m good at my job because of my detachment, but this was the only time I bordered on unethical myself. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

Levi… was sorry?

The words blurt faster than you can stop yourself. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

His eyes widen with a budding uncertainty.

“I… just said I crossed the line?”

“When?”

“On the phone?”

“Okay, duh, but when?”

“Our last session.”

“So that was real.”

Levi actually got off to your voice.

If you weren’t in such shock about sitting here face-to-face with him at a local bar, then perhaps your ego would have, in fact, made a crash landing on Mars.

He considers his next words very carefully. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Then he sips more before shaking his head.

“Look. It’s… a job a friend of mine got me. I’m not a real-life Casanova or any of that shit. Hell, most of my time was spent training punks to fight in a boxing ring, so I never had the energy for relationships or dating.”

You can't hide your surprise. “You were a fighter?”

He makes a noncommittal face.

“Loosely. Personal trainer, training in general — fell into it after I got out of the service.”

“Right, you were in the army,” you murmur, and the edge of his lips upticks at your recollection.

“A couple of months ago the gym I worked for went under, money got tight, so I thought I’d try it out. Guess everyone says it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, but bossing fighters around and fielding horny-ass callers ain't all that different."

Levi turns his chin just so to regard you under a wispy black fringe.

“I can usually predict what someone wants. The people that call this hotline shit, they’re in and out."

He takes a pause.

"You, though — the second I picked up your call, you threw me through a goddamn loop.”

You use your nail on your index finger to absently scratch the side of your thumb, attempting to process everything he’s telling you.

"First night we spoke, actually, I ended up at this very bar to contemplate why the fuck I wanted you to call back. Didn't want you blowing your money on it, obviously, it's overpriced and ridiculous, but — it clearly shook me up enough for me to take then ten-minute walk in the middle of the night in the first place."

Ten minutes.

That length of time strikes something in you.

“So, your… office building isn’t far?” you slowly ask.

Levi shakes his head. “No, no office. I work remotely. Kind of the reason why I took the gig in the first place. I wouldn’t do this shit if I had an audience in a damn two-by-four cube.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to confess it, but you point past your shoulder. 

“My apartment complex is actually six blocks down the street.”

Ten minutes away, is your implication.

His hand had raised to sip from his seltzer can, but it halts immediately.

His eyes narrow. 

“The complex on Junction Ave?”

“Yeah," you say.

“Right across from—”

“The Reiss deli.”

That narrowed gaze shoots wide. “You’re shitting me.”

“You say the word shit a lot.”

“Baby, I live there,” he blurts.

“Wait, what?”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

(You’re too shocked to even process what he called you.)

He huffs in a brief laugh, shaking his head.

“You gotta be fucking with me.”

“I’m not! Wait, you live in the same building as me?”

“You said Thomas was your goddamn mailman,” Levi states. “Do you know how many fucking Thomas the Mailmen there are in this world? I didn’t think we’d have the same one.”

Holy shit.

Oh, holy shit.

You sit up taller in your seat. “Wait, what floor?”

“Sixteenth.”

“I’m on the tenth!” you exclaim in your shock. “Holy shit, so you…”

Have been right above me this entire time.

Your phone buzzes, ruining your train of thought. 

Reflexively you look down to see the preview of Annie’s message over your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Did u die?

Right.

You’re here with friends.

“Friends wondering where you are?” Levi inquiries at the sight of your growing frown.

“Yeah, give me a sec.”

You swipe the screen north and type a reply.

[ME]: Talking to someone. Be over in a bit.

Annie’s reply is immediate, and you turn your phone from Levi’s view in mortification.

[A. LEONHART]: 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

[A. LEONHART]: WINGMAN??? NEED????

[ME]: NO! Do not come over here!

[A. LEONHART]: ok ok ok noted

[A. LEONHART]: i’ll keep jaeger to the left end of the bar

“Looks urgent.”

“Huh?” 

You shoot a glance back up to Levi, who’s now angled towards you with his cheek squished against his clenched fist. His elbow props him up on the bar top. 

“No! No. It’s just my friend Annie. She — is actually the one who gave me the number to that hotline in the first place,” you confess.

Levi hums in that delicious way you’ve come to crave. 

“I don’t want to derail your evening. I’ve already taken you away from them for a while.”

Your heart is hesitant, but it grows despite yourself. 

“If you want me to stay, then I’ll stay,” you quietly state. “I… liked talking to you. I mean, beyond the whole — you know.”

He nods once, setting his drink down. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to disappear, either. My job’s not exactly corporate. Not many people can separate fantasy from reality. With you, I never had to bullshit what it was, but…”

Levi trails off, sighing heavily.

“...but I also understand if it’s just a fantasy, for you.”

Something nestles itself between the lines of his words. 

Something he isn’t saying outright, sussing out if he has any right to try.

“Do you really mean that, Levi?”

That sigh turns into a curbed huff, smile fleeting but enough to bring your stomach butterflies. 

“Damn. Sounds nice, hearing my name in person.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

You could scream into your damn seltzer, but you decide to play it as cool as you possibly can.

“So Levi’s your real name?”

He nods.

“Not creative enough to come up with an alias."

Levi shifts, rolling out a shoulder.

"But to answer your question, I’m saying I… yeah, I mean it. I wouldn’t mind asking you out for coffee sometime, given we seem to run on the same gym schedule as it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to leave it at the hotline and call it a day — no pun intended.”

Are you seriously hearing what he’s saying right now?

Does Levi want to step out of a fantasy and into your reality?

Your lips part with a million questions only to end up blurting a very stupid one: 

“Are you single?”

That earns a bark of a laugh, causing his head to gloriously drop back, exposing his neck.

(All you want to do is sink your teeth into it.)

“Yes. Very,” he promises. “Are you, still?”

“Very,” you promise back.

“And my job doesn’t bother you?”

You haven't quite gotten that far, logistically, but it's only a coffee.

He isn't asking to marry you.

Besides, he talks about it like any other office job. You can't find any ill feeling toward it.

“Work is work,” you argue with a one-shoulder shrug. “Sure, it’s unconventional, but… I’m so used to not knowing what I want, or second-guessing what’s good for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever second guessed a damn thing with you.”

Bringing the seltzer back up to his mouth, Levi smirks against the can, mulling something over. 

You smile in return, sipping your drink.

It's the truth.

He may not really know you, but he knows you.

Just as you're beginning to think you know him.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

He steals a ballpoint pen from a dampened closed check from his left side.

Then he snatches a napkin from one of the bartending stations with lemons, limes, and straws.

Hunching over, he scribbles on said napkin, before turning a cheek to you.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow morning—”

Levi then sits up taller, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand resting on the bar top. 

His skin is smooth. 

Heated. 

Your entire body melts to his whim as he turns your wrist over, palm facing up.

One by one his fingers unfurl your fingers, nestles the napkin in your hand, then closes your fist for safe keeping.

“—give me a call.”

Leaving a twenty on the bar counter, Levi lets go of your hand to slip off of his stool.

You say nothing as you watch him give you one last once-over, expression full of admiration, before turning into the sea of people.

A call.

Flexing your hand, you uncrinkle the napkin to read the number etched black on white.

Not the Scout Services Hotline.

No — his number.

Your attention flies back to the original spot where you've now properly abandoned your friends, but you know they'll forgive you for your absence.

Annie knows.

She'll cover for your abrupt disappearance.

On autopilot you yank out your phone, bypassing the texts from your friends, emails from work, and tap the little telephone icon.

Zero through nine appear.

Hastily you type the number, hesitation long gone, and press send.

One ring.

Two.

By the third, it abruptly cuts. You hear shuffling in the background. Cars beeping.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

Levi Ackerman.

Knowing his full name warms your heart.

Standing from your stool, you rise to your toes to search the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Levi stands there on the sidewalk, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

Immediately he turns to the bar, searching the very same window.

Searching for you.

You smile to yourself.

"My schedule just opened up. I know it's a little late for some coffee, but..."

Trailing off, your teeth catch your bottom lip.

Be selfish.

"Are you free for some tea now?”

.

FIN

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

How are we feeling, Hotliner Nation? I teased that this may not be the end of this story. I'm not against writing a sequel, whether to continue the immediate story or time skip, but I wanted to see what people thought before I spoke too soon. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed our hotline journey together.

In the meantime I invite you to follow me here or subscribe to my AO3, as I have other projects in the works (including finishing the final chapters of my canon-based amnesia au with Levi, Silver Underground.)

The last two months have been such a wonderful journey, and I thank every single one of you for engaging the way you have. I never anticipated such a frenzy when I started P4, so sincerely, from the bottom of my heart - thank you for the comments, reblogs, inbox mssgs, etc. Every reblog gives this writer wings.

[chixkencxrry]

crazy, crazy for loving you

Summary: Loss can make people go insane. (Yandere! Miguel O’hara x Yandere! Fem! Reader)

MINORS DNI

Warning: They’re both insane and a bit immoral. They are both very, very unstable people. This is a dark story of mutual obsession. (Mutual Non-Con Voyuerism, Mutual Masturbation, P in V, Swearwords, Mutual Stalking, Mutual Non-Con Spying, Oral (F receiving), Dark themes, Cockwarming) YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS ON YOU AND YOU ALONE!

When you see him, it's hard to keep your hands at your side and not run to him. It’s hard not to look at the man that wears your dead husband’s face and not weep like a baby. But you know it isn’t him. No, this man with the war in his eyes and fangs of a beast is not your Miguel.

But, God – God, did you wish it was. 

So, yes, you were quick to agree to be apart of his little operation. Quick clipping the gizmo onto your wrist. The Spiderman logo spread along your torso like some awful red target. He knew your name, but it was obvious that you didn’t exist in his world. If you had, you were sure they would have been together. No. The you of his world was dead, like the him of your world. It was darkly poetic. 

Lyla had taken a liking to you – his AI. She unintentionally helped you keep track of him; you didn’t stalk just keep track. 

Then it happened. The fine click that had truly sent your observing of Miguel corrupt into something else, something darker. 

Something had caused the collapse of your world. It was a war, much like the great Titan on EARTH-199999. Your world crumbled before you; you already didn’t have much left after the death of your Miguel but now you had nothing left. 

When the collapse of it came, you were not on the battlefield with the other Avengers. You had been in the cemetery, fingers clawing into Miguel’s grave – determined to bury yourself in there with him. The cold mud coated your hands and body, knee digging in. You were about two feet deep, mad with intent. 

“Y/N?”

The word stilled you. It was Miguel, you turned your head in a horrible hopefulness. Disappointment settled on your shoulders, in some half-mad frenzy, you’d thought it was your Miguel. But it wasn’t it was Miguel.

“Leave me alone.” you growled. “My world is dying.”

“You don’t have to.”

I died when you did.

“I’m right here, Y/N.”

“No.” you muttered, fingers in the dirt. “You’re below. I’m getting you out.”

A warm body dropped down, covering your back and pushing you forward. You wiggled and fought but felt a pinch at the side of your neck. Your mania subsided, a false peace overwhelming you. Before you knew it, you collapsed in the mud. 

It had taken weeks of manic behaviour. They had to sedate you to get you to calm down – barricade and and chain you to stop you from attacking. You’d gone mad. 

When Miguel came to visit you, you’d taken a turn for the better. 

“I heard you broke Spiderman 8077’s jaw.” Miguel doesn’t seem amused. He stands over you – through the fizzing cage that electrocutes you everytime you touch it. You can’t bring yourself to snarl or fight. You look at him – flesh, bone, hope. 

“He tried to make me forget.”

Miguel flinched. “He suggested something to help you sleep.”

“If I sleep, I forget him.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Miguel’s tone was soft and low. You closed your eyes and imagined being home in your apartment, the record player on and rain falling. Miguel dancing with you, dipping you low and laughing on your skin. 

The daydream dissolves when you hear the click of your cell open. His voice of stone ordered; “Lay down.”

Instinct, really – the way you move to the cot and wiggle until your back hits the wall. The bed shakes as Miguel’s massive frame sets itself on the bed. He held you, pulling you close. He smelt like your Miguel. Felt like him too. But were all rugged edges compared to the softness of the man you were married to. Your fingers threaded in his hair, snagging a few by accident to bring them to your nose. You tucked some strands into your suit. For later.

For the first time in years, sleep came to you with ease. With that ease came the confirmation of what a gift reuniting with this different Miguel was. You had a second chance. Now, it was time to make use of it. Properly.

***

Miguel had started watching you when your world collapsed and you’d transition to his universe. Now, it wasn’t that he hadn’t been stalking – following – shit – observing you before. He’d just wanted you to get used to the Universe first. Ensuring you had a good identity, a day job and income. 

You’d been grateful. So, very grateful.

He imagined that gratitude as something baser, raw and trembling. But he knew not to test the hand of fate. Yet he hungered for you. The devotion you’d shown to your husband, a version of him, was indescribably delicious. He wanted that for himself. Wanted you, all tears, all love. Each aspect of you a memorising thing; greed flooded him at the thought of claiming you.

It seemed like fate to offer you the guest room of his apartment. He hadn’t used it in years, and it was a waste not to let you in. You’d jumped at the opportunity – a perfect gift. You didn’t know what you were doing to him. Yes. Having you in his house, showering, eating, naked, open – mierda!

 He took a deep breath to cool himself down. You were still at the dorm quarters of HQ, significantly more sane than you were a week ago when the two of you first slept together. Your scent still lingered in his mind. Lilies and cucumbers, fresh and vibrant. Thick and rich, god – he wanted more of that. More of the security of holding you. More of having you have him. The feel of your body curled into his, the softness of your silk skin breaking the delicate thread of his self-control. 

Miguel looked at the room he’d allotted to you. Climbing to a corner to screw in a non-reflective camera. Getting you here was the first step and he was a patient man. Miguel had to make sure the apartment looked lived in. Making sure that some floorboards creaked, chipped at some paint on the walls, and ensured there was a leaky faucet in the guest bath.

His watch dinged. Fifteen minutes away. 

Lyla flickered into existence. “Wow. This violates so many laws.”

“Didn’t ask.” he grumbled, wrenching open a panel of the wall to place a listening device.

“You get that for free.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Anamolly on Earth-7834, they need backup.”

“There are thousands of other Spiders to call.” He placed a nail between his teeth, hammering the panel back on.

“Yeah, well, Y’N asked for you.”

That made him pause. Swearing, he hurriedly put the panel back and suited up, tapping his gizmo and falling into a different dimension. 

***

You only felt a little bad for deceiving Lyla. 

Sure, Miguel would probably be pissed when he found out that you had lied and made his AI lie to him with some clever coding but it would be worth it in the end when the two of you were finally together. You just couldn’t get out of HQ unnoticed without some sort of distraction. So, you figured what could be better than calling in a favour with a friend you’d made while traversing Universes? Felicia was more than willing to play the part, ever wanton for chaos. 

She helped you cause a minor anomaly which sent off enough of the Spiders off and allowed you to sneak into Miguel’s apartment. You looked for the master – the only room with a photo in it, one of him and his passed daughter. It broke your heart to know the pain he’d experienced. But you knew you were here now and more than willing to provide comfort and a new child. You’d even let him name the first one. 

You weren’t here for that. You were here to plant a few presents. Sticking to his bedroom ceiling, you planted a camera in the corner, near his closet. In his bathroom, by his shower and mirror – you planted another one. 

Time was limited. You knew the false alarm would only give you a short time. Before you left, you went through his closet, nose dug into his clothing and inhaling his scent. Sandalwood and oud. God, the earthiness sent a shiver down your spine. Unable to control yourself, you snatched a T-shirt and left through the window. You have five minutes left until your proposed arrival. Five minutes until Miguel consensually lets you into his home. 

Foolish boy.

If only he knew what you had in store for him. 

***

Miguel hurriedly returned home. Frustration laced his sojourn, as he tried to figure out just how Lyla had mistaken you calling out the anomaly of you being there and requesting his help. It was probably some bug. A minor thing he would fix after he greeted you. 

One minute left.

He was cutting it close, climbing through his window and showering as fast as possible. He hadn’t even had time to dry himself off when the doorbell rang, pulling clothes on with wet skin. 

“She’s here!” chimed Lyla, a little too cheerfully.

Miguel rolled his eyes. “No soy sordo, Lyla.”

When he opened the door, you were standing there with just two bags and a smile on your full lips. Eyes fluttering up at him with thick lashes and a soft look; “Hey.”

“Come in,” he welcomed without preamble. Miguel purposefully kept the space for you to pass narrowly. You were shorter than him and plush as you passed, buttocks jamming him slightly as you turned your back to pass in. Your toes shoved behind your feet to slip out of your shoes without him asking, he forgot for a moment that you knew him, even if it was another version. There were parts of himself you probably knew better than anyone did.

That made him excited. 

“Your apartment is lovely.” You said earnestly. “Where do I put my bags?”

He moved to you, taking the bags and walking ahead to lead you to the guest room. It wasn’t bad. A queen-sized bed and all other necessities for a room. Miguel gestured to the opened door, “That’s the bathroom.Might give you some trouble but you’re welcome to use me – I mean mine anytime.”

You didn’t seem to catch him fumbling – ayúdame dios – walking around the room to get a better view. In the dim light, you looked fantastic, the neon of the outside shining on your skin and the expanse of your perfect skin exposed in those tiny shorts you wore. 

Jealously bloomed in his chest. Had you fucking worn those on your walk here? How many people saw you? How many men had seen you in this way? Feral rage gripped him. Miguel set your bags down in the doorway, stepping back before he did something violent. 

“You eat yet?” the question came out as a snappish growl which seemed to startle you. He cringed. He didn’t want you to fear him – he just wanted you to know your place as his. 

Your brows furrowed. “You good, Miguel?”

“I’m dandy, princesa.”

A delicious blush bloomed on your skin. The honey was not enough to stop it from beaming forward. He wanted to drag his tongue down – to see how far this blush went. “I-I haven’t eaten yet.”

He smiled a slow, easy grin. “I’ve got some food in the kitchen. Eat with me?”

“Sure.”

Dinner went by slowly. Not in an awkward manner but it was agonising all the same. Agonsing to watch you sit across from him, agonising not to touch you, agonising not bit into your flesh and claw into your pussy with his hard cock. 

His patience wore thin but he maintained. 

The two of you had drinks afterwards, sitting on the couch until it grew too late. You yawned, hands stretching to the ceiling and pointed breasts jotting out through the cotton of your tank top. Your hoodie was abandoned somewhere. He eyed the pleasant curves of your body, the grooves that came from you being Spider-Woman and the softness that came from your natural figure.

“I’m gonna take that shower.” You announced. “Thank you for letting me stay with you, Miguel…I really appreciate it.”

Could you appreciate it with your mouth around his cock? “Of course. Anything for you. Y/N.”

You smiled prettily scampering off into your room. Miguel wasted no time in heading to his own, pulling up a camera feed from your bathroom. He sighed, watching you undress. You were humming along to something, hips shaking and hands running down your body. 

He raised his hips, shoving his sweatpants down. His half-hard length plopping out. Fingers encircled the base, rubbing up and down as he watched you move. 

You stepped into the shower and he switched the cameras. You sodded your body up, perfect nipples hard and hand slipping between your thighs. You rubbed yourself frantically. Rolling your nipple under your palms as you humped your fingers. 

Miguel turned the volume up, his own cock coated in his special essence as he watched you. His hand became frenzied, tighter as it took him closer to an orgasm. His peak came as your voice sounded the last thing he expected to hear. 

His own name. 

“Meirda…Y/N…you want me too, baby?” He coated himself, groaning as you slumped on the video. You shook off your climax and finished showering, stepping out with a glow. He restarted the video, turning the volume louder – thankful for his soundproof room. 

The knowledge that this wasn’t one-sided set something off in him. He threw his head, stroking himself from top to bottom. Desire coiled in his belly, like a snake ready to pounce.

Who was he to deny your wants, princesa?

***

Your fingers rapped on Miguel’s door somewhere close to midnight. You’d timed it perfectly. Your fearless leader hardly slept anyway so you were sure you wouldn’t be intruding. After all, you were sick? Weren’t you? The pills weren’t working, you needed to sleep. You hadn’t slept properly since that night. Lies concocted to make it all work. You just had to maintain your facade of innocence. 

You smiled, thinking of Miguel’s little performance for you on your camera. You’d seen him stroke himself over and over at some random video feed. You saw his thick seed spurt out. Saw the girth of his length twitch to life. Fuck. You wanted that. 

“Y/N?” Miguel’s voice was hoarse with sleep. You softened your face and frowned. “Did I wake you up? I’m so sorry…I just couldn’t sleep and you’d helped me that night…”

Ever generous, he opened his door wider to let you in. He’d changed form his earlier sweatpants. No doubt it was covered in his own spunk. A shame, really. “Of course, come inside. I’ll get another blanket for you.”

“Oh no.” You showed him the lilac blanket you’d brought with you from HQ. “I have my own.”

“Hmm.” He led you to the bed and slipped behind you to spoon you as easily as he had that night. You hummed, wiggling against him. You made sure to throw your blanket on both of you. You heard Miguel groan behind you, his body shifting and arms holding you close.

The synthetic material was interwoven with your pheromones, wired to set Miguel off. That night he had slept with you, you had plucked hair enough to get his DNA to pattern it so that it made him rut like a beast in heat. It was a chance you were taking. It would only work if Miguel wanted you too – if only a little You grinned, smiling as your payment boiled up. Miguel would be yours, it was what was best. 

Even if he didn’t know it yet.

Hours passed. You laid awake listening to him torture himself. Your patience grew thin. Why didn’t the idiot just hold you down and fuck you yet? “Miguel?” You whispered. “Everything alright?”

He murmured in Spanish, nothing clear enough for you to even hear. His hand, large and spanning, set itself on your hip. 

You ground your ass into his crouch. “Miguel?”

“Cállate princesa,” he growled in a tone that made your toes curl. An excited smile spread across your face. “I need to take a walk.”

That made your smile drop. “Now? It’s so late.”

He didn’t say anything, his weight lifting from the bed as he went to hurriedly dress. His back turned to you as he tried to be modest. Your eyes dropped to his round ass. Was he really going to go out and fuck some bitch after you did all the work? Not on your watch. 

“Miguel,” you dropped your tone, low and purring. “Come back to bed.”

He turned his head, eyes red as they flickered over you. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

Was he afraid of losing control? How adorable. You sat up, letting the blanket fall from you, the muscle shirt that was three sizes too big fell off your arm exposing an entire breast to him. You were being desperate but you’d be damned if he wasn’t going to rearrange your guts tonight.

He paused, staring at you. You almost grinned. That seemed to do it. 

He dropped the t-shirt he held and crawled over to you, pressing his forward to your as he inhaled your scent. ��Tell me this is real.”

Oh.

You desperate thing. How I will devour you, How I will keep you. “It's real. I need you, Mig. I want you.”

His lips slammed onto yours. Tongue piercing the seam of your lips to kiss you fully. His hands pawed at your body, grabbing and groping at everything. Your sleep shirt was ripped in half as he claimed total access to your body. Your hands touched him everywhere, settling on the hump of his buttocks, pulling it close to your hips. You rubbed your bare crouch against his sweat, humping him with blind need. 

Miguel pushed you back, your head hitting a pillow as you watched him take his cock out. The fat, beautiful thing you’d been dreaming about riding since you met him. There wasn’t anytime for preamble – you wouldn’t suck the beautiful thing just yet. 

He stroked himself for a moment, red eyes boring into you as he lowered his face between your legs. Miguel ate you sloppily. Lips smacking and tongue licking, he sucked your swollen clit, pressing his index in and out of your weeping pussy. 

You gripped his head, arching your back as your thrust your hips up, truth spilled from you: “Eat me so good, Miguel. Fuck, you don’t know how long I wanted this.”

He was too busy enjoying his meal to respond. The lewd noises making you tremble as much as the act. Miguel’s fangs brushed against your folds, before he fucked your pussy with his tongue, pressing his dampened fingers to rub your clit as he licked your insides. 

Clenching around his head, your mouth spewed all manner of dark desires, the height of your arousal squirting all along his face. Words failed you as he continued to worship your pussy with his mouth and fingers. 

He raised his head for a moment. His left hand cupped your tit for him to suck while his other fingered you to your second orgasm. Thumb rubbing your clit in precise circles as he bit and sucked your areola. Faster than the first, you mewled your orgasm out on his fingers. Miguel let your nipple fall, watching you as he sucked his fingers dry. He sat on his hunches, leaning back as you writhed, quivering pussy begging for more. Begging for his cock. 

“You look pretty like this princesa, pretty falling apart in my bed for me. You want me to fuck you now? Want me to spread this pussy wide? Want me to make you fucking bawl? Beg for it, baby.” His face read of cruelty while his lips purred to you. You watched helpless as Miguel looked down on you. One of his hands stretched forward to your wanting hole and slapped it. You whimpered. He grinned and slapped it again. 

“I want you to know something before I fuck you,” he whispered, leaning forward, mushroom tip brushing along the seam of your slit. “You’re mine, princesa. You’re my puta. My perra, zorra. Mi amor. Mi todo. And I’m greedy, so when I fuck you – know that it's all over. I become your world and you become mine.”

You bit your lip. The words fell like poetry in your haze: you were truly made for each other. Did he even know how perfect he was for you?

“Ye…s.” You croaked out. “Yes, Miguel.”

His hips snapped, bottoming out into you so hard you screamed against his laughter.

***

Was this heaven?

Miguel had long since thought he was banned from such a place. Long since thought salvation was removed from him. But right now, while he held your waist and fucked his cock into you – he knew he had found it. You looked divine. Your mouth agape and hands rubbing all over him. Your breasts, bounced and full as he made his mark in you. He wanted every groove of his cock known by your pussy. His cock was to be imprinted, moulded into you. You were to know no other but his by the time he was done fucking the common sense out of you.

“My pretty cock dumb, princesa.”

You hummed, heels digging to his ass as his hips snapped. You squeezed him tight but he knew he was leaving marks on your body as he fucked you into his mattress. “Gonna keep you on my cock every day. You'd like that wouldn’t you, perra?”

“Love t-that.” Nails scrapped his back. “G-Gonna cum.”

He could feel that in the tightening of your pretty cunt. The slimy stickiness of your desire echoed in the room, he pinched your nipple making you cry out. “I know, princesa. Do that for me. Cum on my cock.”

Miguel felt your climax, wet and whimpering. You cried beneath him, overstimulated as he fucked you. He fondled your breast once more, hand going between the two of you. He rubbed your sensitive clitoris, smirking as you moaned from the ache. “Good girl. So pretty crying like that. Think you can go again?”

You shock your head, tears forming in your eyes. He felt his balls grow tight but kept at your clit. You shuddered at another shockwave. Finally, he thought leaning forward to cover you until your breasts smashed against his chest. His own release came, loosening the taut feeling that had centred his whole body. Miguel’s hips jerked, making sure his seed took its rightful place in you. 

When he tried to roll off, you kept him on. He looked at you questioning.“Don’t want any to drip out just yet.”

“No chance of that,” he muttered, kissing your neck. His hips jerked, as he found himself in a slow rhythm. “I’m not nearly done with this pussy yet.”

***

“I don’t think I’ve ever visited this universe.” you pointed out at one of the monitors. It was an Earth without a Spider-persona filled with cannibals. 

 Miguel looked to your side and grimaced. “Fuck no.”

You rolled your eyes. “What’s the sense of me being here if not to go to unknown places?”

Miguel huffed, hand sneaking under the skirt of your dress. “Princesa, you came here because you saw me talking to a female Spider-persona and then insisted on warming my cock for the rest of the afternoon.”

“So?” You waved your hand. He was lucky you didn’t her to that universe. Perky little bitch was looking a little too googly-eyed at him. “Maybe I was bored. You ever thought of that?”

“You can always go back out on the field.” He suggested.

You snorted, rolling your hips to make him hiss. His cock twitched, surrounded by your leaking cunt. “The last time I went on a mission I thought you were going to kill my poor partner.”

“He was being a little too friendly.” 

“Honey,” Miguel’s hand slipped inside the front of your dress, popping out your full breasts as he slowly rocked up into you. “Peter from Earth-997845 is very much engaged to Johnny Storm.” You wouldn’t mind going out again but you were so comfortable living simply with Miguel and helping him manage HQ. Who was he even talking to? He hadn’t gone on a mission for the months you two had started seeing each other either.

“You’re a hyp–” he stood up, making you bend over the desk, your breasts hitting the cool metal, he pressed the side of your face down as he slowly plunged in and out of you. “–ocrite.”

“Me?” He grunted, hands going up and down your sides as he took his time dragging his cock. “You’re the one who assaulted me in my office just so you could fill it up with your scent. You don’t think I know your tricks, zorra?”

You grinned, working your hips to meet him. “You better make me squirt a few times – just to make sure the scent takes then.”

Miguel chuckled above you, his talons ripping open your dress as he made good on your challenge. 

MASTERLIST

I'll probably make this a reoccurring thing. Hope you guys liked part 1. Reblogs and comments are nice.

[jeannineee]

jeannine i NEED a “what it would be like to date them” with your aot faves 😍😍😍😍

Dating the Attack on Titan Men

author's notes: just some headcanons!! divider credit to @/cafekitsune. ty @cassiefromhell for the help w your man levi. requests are open <3

warnings: includes sfw AND nsfw so minors DNI. slight modern!au vibes at some points?

Eren Jaeger

SFW:

It likely goes without saying, but Eren is very protective over you. You are his number one priority, always.

Definitely the jealous type, sometimes to a fault. He knows you can handle your own, but his own insecurity will have him pulling you into his arms, not-so-subtly glaring at whomever you were speaking with until they get the hint.

Steals your hair ties for his own hair. Will also deny stealing said hair ties.

Very physically affectionate. Literally always touching you, be it a hand on your knee, an arm draped around your shoulders.

Since we're on the topic of physical touch being his love language, Eren is v clingy as a result. He's almost always with you, and when he's not, he's regularly checking in on you.

NSFW:

Dirty talk is on a different level. This man is sooo vocal. Tons of praise, with a tiny hint of degradation. ABSOLUTELY talks you through it.

"So good for me, baby. Just like that." "Gonna cum for me? Yeah, that's it." PHEW

Prefers to be dominant. Even if you're riding him, he's still controlling the pace. He loves the glazed-over look in your eyes; the way you go pliant for him.

Tends to be more on the rough side. Lots of biting and marking. Definitely holds your hips and thighs tight enough to bruise.

veryyyyy teasing and unfair. will absolutely edge you till you're crying, and then overstimulate you till you can't think.

he'll let you get your revenge, though, occasionally.

very doting and attentive when it comes to aftercare; a full 180 compared to the way he manhandled you only minutes before.

Jean Kirstein

SFW:

this man is absolutely whipped for you. has no problem admitting it, either.

he is your number one hypeman. always tells you how much he loves you, how beautiful you are, how pretty your outfit is. he's annoyed your friends about it, too--he just doesn't shut the fuck up about you.

he looooves when you use petnames for him. Babe, baby, honey, sweetheart. He doesn't care. He's a sucker for all of it.

is definitely the type to speak up if you're too shy to do so. waiter put your order in wrong? he's asking them to fix it. someone made a snarky comment at the bar? it'll be their last.

he definitely needs reassurance that you love and want him. he is more insecure than he lets on.

NSFW:

say it with me: pleasure dom.

"just one more, baby. you can do it." and it is never just one more.

praise KING. "such a good girl." "taking me so well." " you look so pretty on your knees for me."

not much of a tease, simply because he can't deny you. the moment you give him those puppy eyes, or a breathy "please" falls from your lips? he's done for.

overstimulation is one of his favorite things. he'll draw orgasm after orgasm from you until you're utterly spent. you're exhausted every time but his aftercare is the best.

LOVES eating you out. Will use any excuse to do so. He'll hold your hands too, if only to keep you from yanking on his hair. (Not that he minds.)

Levi Ackerman

SFW:

i personally think his love language is acts of service. Levi isn't very touchy. Nor is he the best with words. Instead, he shows his love by doing things for you. Cooking, cleaning, doing anything to help take the weight off of your shoulders.

Also remembers the tiniest details about you. How you like your coffee or tea. Your nighttime ritual to help you sleep. He'll remember the shirt you couldn't take your eyes off of at the store, and then it's suddenly on your bed a few days later.

Levi tends be a worrywart. It's subtle, though. Reprimanding you for forgetting to lock your car. Reminding you to drink water because he doesn't want you to get a headache. Scolding you when you skip breakfast.

Isn't very into PDA. If you're someone who needs touch, he'll at least hold your hand, or keep his hand on the small of your back as the two of you walk.

NSFW:

remember how i said levi memorizes the little things about you? this translates into the bedroom. when the two of you start having sex, he will learn everything that makes you tick.

not much of a talker. groans a lot, but will bury his face in the crook of your neck to try and stifle it.

isn't all that into degradation, but will definitely humiliate you.

"making such a mess, and i've barely touched you." "gonna cum already? that's too bad." "so needy for me, aren't you?"

rough sex when he's jealous or angry? me thinks yes.

gives the best aftercare. will give you a massage and a warm bath. cuddles you till you fall asleep.

[skelly-words]

Masterlist and Ask Rules (idk kinda ignoring tbh)

minors dni!!! 18+ only

I'm being organized rn so you don't get lost in the reblogs and shitposts

WARNING: i’m an nsfw blog even though some posts are sfw, minors DO NOT follow

I like never post and always have writer’s block smh, but i still luv your support <3

Obey me

Lucifer Drabble (NSFW short af)

Mammon x Reader ask (NSFW 3.7k)

Knock First Next Time|Leviathan x Reader (NSFW 4.2k)

Mermaid Levi <3 (SFW 2.4k)

In My Mouth|Beelzebub x Reader (NSFW 4.5k)

JJK

Bf!Choso Headcanons (NSFW .8k)

Choso x Reader (SFW 2k)

Bf!Geto Headcanons (NSFW .7k)

Sukuna x gn!Reader (SFW 1k)

Bf!Sukuna Headcanons (NSFW .8k)

Part 2 and Part 3 (NSFW)

even more, more

jjk characters at the smoke sesh (SFW .6k)

Shoko Drabble (SFW so so short)

One Piece

Stoner!Sanji x Reader (NSFW drabble)

Assorted Tentacle Smut

Monster Under the Bed (NSFW .5k)

Bring Your Tentacle to Work Day (NSFW .5k)

Part 2 (NSFW .8k)

Part 3 (NSFW 2.3k)

Ask 1 Blue+Pink (NSWF idk short)

Ask 2 at a conference (NSFW 2.5k)

Part 3.5 (NSFW lil bit)

Ask 3 boss's house (NSFW .7k)

Witch's Garden (NSFW 1.1k)

Witch's Garden Pt. 2 (NSFW 1.2k)

Silly Little Original Fiction

Of Bic Lighters and Bad Parenting (SFW 1.4k)

Ask Rules

You can put whatever, questions, requests, rants, etc. as long as it follows the rest of the rules. There's really no theme for my writing because I just post what I want.

No minors: not in my work, blog, comments, asks. I want nothing to do with children at all and I obviously won't write anything romantic/nsfw with minors either.

Yes: fluff, angst, smut, reader-insert, some ships, most kinks, idc, but I'm sometimes picky about characters.

No: No poop stuff, necrophilia, beastiality (can’t even spell it 💀), dd/lg or age-play type stuff, incest or pseudo-incest (step-siblings are still gross), aged-up minors, or anything else I add in the future.

Fandoms: Obey Me, JJK, or monster fucker stuff. I will also write for assorted Mystic Messenger, One Piece, Naruto, Bungo Stray Dogs, Soul Eater, Haikyuu, Attack on Titan, Chainsaw Man, and Demon Slayer characters (comment characters under this post and I'll lyk if I can write them)

Top picks: Sukuna (jjk), Kakashi (nart), Hange (aot), Dr. Stein (soul eater), Aki (csm), Akutagawa (bsd)

Kinda as a final note, I'm a female and use she/her/they pronouns, so I'm not comfortable writing anything that's heavy mlm bc it's not my skill set or experience (i love women though so request some girl-on-girl shit)

[dollwrites]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 — 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ this is a dark fic! smut ( minors dni ), fem!marleyan!reader, noncon ( and eventual dubcon ), virgin!reiner, gagging, size kink, noncon oral sex ( f! ), lots of manhandling, overstimulation ( him ), noncon creampie and dubcon breeding mention, tension between marleyan & eldian obviously, spoilers for late s3 / early s4, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ originally posted on 01.01.2023. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ unholy by hey violet

he was watching you again.

it seemed like he always was. quietly ogling from the corner. you knew, of course, and every now and then, you would cut him a glare that seemed to burn right through him. the furrow in your brows brought forth the memory of a soreness in his jaw, that he discreetly reached up to rub with the back of his hand— the sensation of your fist making direct contact with it wrenched to the forefront of his mind. you’d decked him, hard enough to dislocate it, because you’d woken up to find one hand inching up under your shirt. he hadn’t been able to control the urge to touch you any longer, and although his fingers had not made it far above your belly button, he’d paid for their misdeeds severely: first the punch from you, and then a savage beating dealt from the hands of your peers— Marleyan soldiers.

but maybe he was lucky.

had he been any other Eldian, anyone of lower ranking, he would’ve been beaten to death for touching you. but did that stop him from wanting you so bad it tortured him? did that stop him from thinking about you late at night, from gripping the sheets of his bed so tight in one hand and himself in the other, whispering your name under his breath and trying his best to imagine it was you wrapped around his hard and desperate cock instead of his fist?

not even for a second.

“Going home,” Zeke announced his presence as he approached, the cherry of a cigarette burning and a dull, gray trail of smoke following him, “are you excited?”

“Yeah.” a pathetic excuse for a reply, actually, but Zeke hadn’t seemed to expect any less. he didn’t bother following Reiner’s eyeline, he already knew where it would lead, and that you were on the end of it. Reiner hadn’t even looked away when Zeke approached, so the War Chief was aware he was deep in his hapless abyss of desire for you.

Zeke sucks on the cigarette, and the end singes furious red as he draws in a deep breath and contemplates the silence between them.

but Reiner wasn’t. he was lost in his thoughts of you. the shape of your body, how effortlessly enticing you were just sitting there with your comrades. that damned unreadable expression you always wore— and that fiery hatred in your eyes when he caught them. did you loathe the weight of his gaze so much? did you feel every ounce of lust he poured into it, tracing each curve of your figure, wishing he could kiss every inch of you? you never held his gaze long, just enough to grimace in disapproval, stare down your nose at him.

it should’ve turned him off completely.

it didn’t.

because Reiner was convinced that, if he could just get you alone, if he could just get his hands on you, he could make you like him. he could rip away that hatred, and replace it with affection.

or, maybe it was just wishful thinking, and he didn’t care to talk himself out of the lie he fed himself because his time was running out and he needed to feel you ( even just once ) before he passed his Titan down.

as if fate was winking her eye at him, you said farewell to your peers and got up from your seat, disappearing behind a closed door. it wasn’t to go to the bunker, he knew that. behind that door was a small room where you spent most of your time— a broad desk in the middle of the room and maps spread out. you were in charge of reading them, marking attack points, rendezvous, and escape points.

and, more often than not, you were alone in there.

Reiner’s hands clenched into fists, and the muscles in his jaw tightened.

Zeke glanced at him, eyebrow quirked, and murmured, “What if I ordered you against it?” Reiner didn’t have to tell Zeke what he planned to do, it was painfully obvious already.

“I would tell you to have me punished for insubordination after we reach home.” Reiner didn’t mince words or intentions, and pushed himself off the wall. this was, quite possibly, the only opportunity he’d have to catch you alone, as he watched the other Marleyans filtering towards their bunks, leaving your little office completely unguarded.

Zeke pondered his response.

Reiner seemed decided already, and he knew that he couldn’t be swayed. so, the chief sighs. “Then, I’ll order you not to get caught this time.” Zeke said, instead. he knew he shouldn’t allow Reiner out of his sight, and especially not to disappear behind that door, but Reiner also wasn’t a child anymore. he wasn’t so easy to control. “I need my Vice Chief alive.”

Reiner blinked, expecting more resistance, but when it wasn’t pressed, he didn’t look at Zeke. he nodded, and crept off, slinking through the shadowy corners until he reached the door.

Reiner slipped inside, but made no real efforts to hide his arrival, staring at your back. you were standing at the desk, both hands on the maps, and you don’t say anything to the intruder. his eyes don’t leave you, hand drifting to the push the lock on the door into place.

“The war’s over.” he mutters, and he watches your shoulders stiffen. you hadn’t expected it to be him, it seems. “You can stop staring at those maps.”

you don’t look back at him, and he uses the opportunity of stealth to reach up and grasp his armband, his marker as an Eldian, and snatch it from his bicep as he approached.

“As long as Eldians exist, there will be other wars.” you spit in return, but your eyes widen only slightly when you hear how close his footsteps have gotten. your heart skips a beat, and you stare at your own fist on the table. “Get out of here.”

“No.”

a lump forms in your throat— he was right behind you. when he whispered it, his breath shifted the hair that rested against your ear, and the heat from his breath sent a shiver up your spine. did he… did he say ‘no’? to a direct order from a Marleyan?

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.” he added, and you felt the sturdiness of his body against your back; his head dips low, so he can breathe your scent in deep.

your fist flew back towards him as you started to turn to face off with him, but he must’ve been ready for it, because he caught your arm at the wrist and bent it up behind your back until you cry out, “Son of a —!”

your expletive is muffled, and you gag on the taste of cotton. for a moment, you can’t tell what he’s shoved in your mouth, until he cinches it in a tight knot behind your head, pressing his weight on you, and you realize it’s his armband. rage fills your stifled obscenities as you writhe, desperate to get free, and stomp your feet, hoping to catch his toes under your boots. “I didn’t want to do it like this,” he growled in your ear, bringing his knees up into the back of yours, bending you over the tabletop with a rough shove. one, massive fist secures both of your wrists together at the small of your back, “but, I’m almost outta time. And I can’t wait on you to come around, anymore.” the more you wiggle, the harder he squeezes your arms, and you bite down hard on the gag. you were no match for his strength, and you knew that, but your pride wouldn’t be easily broken.

you kicked and flailed as wildly as you could, blindly, screaming slurred and incoherent about all the gruesome, bloody ways you would make him pay for this if he didn’t get off of you, but even that didn’t stop him.

his free hand grasped your belt and the hem of your trousers at once, jerking them down your thighs. leather screamed until it pools with your pants at your ankles, restricting them, and Reiner sucks in a breath behind you. “I really wanted to take my time with you,” he husks, placing his powerful palm on your ass and digging his fingers in, groping rough handfuls. you bite down to push a moan back into your throat, brows furrowed. both of your fists uncurl, and you hook your digits into the waistband of your panties, instead, in a vain attempt to keep him from tearing them off of you. it doesn’t matter; Reiner’s calloused fingers seemed to rip right through the cotton and shred them until they sagged in threads against your thighs. and then, he lets out a low, awed moan, squatting down to stare at your core, inches from it.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt of this? Imagined how sweet your pussy must taste?” you shook your head, gurgling in defiance— demanding he not even dare, but it was too late. your fingers push at his forehead, hoping to pry him away, but his mouth was already sealing against your netherlips, suckling on them. you pushed your tongue against the gag to keep yourself from moaning; you couldn’t admit to him how good it felt, especially when his tongue slipped between his lips and flicked your clit to life. the throbbing nerve swells against his tastebuds and he snorts like a beast in rut, lapping at you. his mouth then travels over one ass cheek, sinking his teeth in deep, sucking on the skin to leave his signature on you. you squeak, clenching your legs together, but it hid nothing from his devious mouth. “I’ve never felt a cunt tremble in my mouth before, soak my tongue…” he admitted, panting already as he gets to his feet, “how does it feel having the first and last pussy I’ll ever kiss?” and, then you felt the firmness of a solid cock through the trousers he was working down against your thighs, his mouth finding the back of your neck. “The first and last pussy I’ll ever fuck?”

you squirm underneath his weight, muffled screams of protest hoping to reach outside the door dying in the room you’re trapped in, and before long he grabs hold of the base of his massive cock at its thick base, worming it between your folds until they stretch and slot around the swollen head. you could tell his hands were shaking, his breath ragged and excited against your neck. “You’re wet,” he breathes in awe, and you shake your head, crying out the word ‘no!’ as loud as you could, but it was ultimately a lie. you were dripping, coating the tip of his cock as he rubbed it back and forth against your sex. “Wet enough to take me right now.” the way he said it, with his voice uneven, you knew it wouldn’t matter if you hadn’t been.

he wasn’t giving you a choice, and any preparation was better than none at all.

your palms press flat against his clothed abdomen and you squeal in fervent protest when he jabs his way inside of you— it’s none too gentle and his size is enough to have you coming out of your skin. your walls flutter and scramble to stretch wide enough to allow for the intruder’s rough entry.

it isn’t long before Reiner, grunting and groaning, has fallen into a brutal, greedy rhythm.

crying out, drool soaking the armband digging into the corners of your mouth, you push with your hands, blindly, as hard as you can, to try and push him out, and you squirm atop the table, hoping to wriggle free, but once he’s fully nestled inside, Reiner takes your wrists in each hand. your hands ball into fists again as he uses your arms like levers, pulling your body back to meet the mighty snapping of his hips. each thrust fills you entirely, hard and fast. he’s not saving any energy, or trying to make the sensation last— deprivation has clearly sank into him, and he couldn’t control himself.

“So— so tight,” he moans, nuzzling into your neck, “so warm.. so… fucking… good!” your vice tightens around him when he hits your limit, and his hips stutter; Reiner elicits a broken, gurgling moan that churns your stomach, “Oh, fuck, right there? That’s— that’s what I want— tighten up—!“ shifting with all of his weight bearing down on you, his palms pin your arms to the table, and he pounds that same, sensitive spot relentlessly. his brutality encourages your body to clamp down harder around him, shudder and spasm. you scream and beg him to slow down, but your resolve is weakening, and the screaming is starting to shift into moaning.

no, you didn’t want this.

you didn’t like it.

was he simply breaking your body into submission, and in turn, your mind?

“Close,” he stammered through grinding teeth, “so fucking close.”

for a moment, you mewled; the prominent vein massaging a delicate knot of nerves inside you as he plows against your hips. your eyelids fluttered, and you didn’t hear his warning. his rhythm didn’t change; it remained as cruel as one could be, battering your insides, but that nerve bundle was screaming each time he rammed it. your toes curled in your boots, and you moaned out loud.

and that was when Reiner lost it.

you hadn’t had time to react before he buried himself as deep as he could go, pumping you full of warmth, and you snap out of the pleasure trance too late to utter a disdainful but weak, “Shtp…“ amongst his huffing and puffing. your feet stomp against the floor, but sluggish.

your thighs quaked. your head was spinning. your stomach was tied up in knots. and your walls were trembling and sore from being stretched and abused. but Reiner was still rock hard inside of you. he’d cum, but he was still solid and bulging his shape against your belly.

“I need more.” Reiner grunted, and before you knew it, you were being flipped over. he did it with so much ease that you must’ve weighed nothing at all to the brute, and somehow managed to keep his cock deep inside of you. the breath is knocked from your lungs when your back makes contact with the desk, and your head rolls to one side, as if admitting your defeat. you didn’t want to look at him— you knew if you took one look at his red cheeks, or saw the sparkling sweat against his temple, or even caught a glimpse at his eyes, pupils blown out until they’re all black, you would want him. “Fucking you once was never going to be enough.” his hips were already rocking again, finding a deep, hard rhythm, and his own release frosts his length and dribbles out from your core when he retracts, then squelches when he drills his way back inside. both of his hands flee to his own body first, making short work of the buttons on his shirt before he peels it off of himself, and it flutters to puddle at his feet.

when his hands found you again, he started by pushing your legs open and down against the table, but when he saw that you weren’t going to fight him, he released them, and you kept them spread for him to violate you however he wanted. “Good… Good girl…” he panted, one hand reaching up to grab your face and turn it back to him. this time, you did make eye contact, and you moaned through the gag when you saw the pleasure you were giving him on his face, “Take it, just take it for me.” his fist wraps around the armband and he yanks it down, leaving you sputtering and puffing. “You want it, now, don’t you?”

for a moment, you just glare at him, or try to, but your eyes are becoming harder and harder to keep open. Reiner caresses your cheek, possibly tracing the irritation caused by how tight he’d tied the gag, but the gentleness of his touch was a startling juxtaposition to just how fervently he fucked into you. he was staring into your eyes, too, combatting the ferocity you tried to pour with pure adoration, the kind that must’ve even diluted his mind.

you didn’t answer, and he didn’t seem to care either way, because his hand travels south over your heaving breasts and down to your cunt, strumming experimentally. you pant, your eyes averting from his when he finds your engorged clit and presses the rough pad of his thumb on it to rub it hard. you couldn’t stifle your moans anymore, no matter how hard you tried, and let them punctuate each, maddening slam of his body into yours. your eyes trained on the muscles in his arms, veins bulging, everything pulled taut like a rubber band ready to snap. you wanted to reach down and push his hand away from your bud, the sensations overwhelming you, but decided against it. he’d overpowered you in every aspect of the word so far, you might as well take the role of the weaker, helpless one. your hands lay up near your head, backs of them resting against the table, and your legs were splayed wide, cramping from the position, and you whimpered. your back arched when his thumb pushed in just the right way, and you knew he’d rip an orgasm out of you if he didn’t ease up.

and he didn’t.

when he felt you pulse, when he saw your back arch, he rubbed more furiously in the same spot, and pistoned his powerful hips until you were babbling and squirming and coming undone on his cock, and he was panting and gripping your hip with his free hand, murmuring about how beautiful you were and how much he’s always wanted this.

his second climax wasn’t far behind yours, and he traded his fingers pinching your clit for both hands gripping your hips and pulling them to meet his reckless fucking. “I love you,” he panted when he was right on the cusp. “I love you so fucking much.” and somehow, even though lust might’ve been puppeteering him, you believed it. Reiner was obsessed with you, infatuated, since before he left for Paradis Island, and now he was finally getting to force that obsession on to you. with no more resistance. no one there to stop him or beat him for laying his hands on you.

it was only after he’d pinned you to the table with his whole weight that he whispered in your ear, “I want to give you babies.” your eyes widened at that, “I want to see your belly swell, and I want to know that you’ll bear my children, it’ll make giving over my Titan easier…” a couple of deep, slow pumps and he’s filled you once more, this time the excess spurts out around his base and dribbles down his thighs, too, as he moans and pulls back, to smother your mouth in a sloppy, needy kiss.

you should’ve turned your head, pushed him off and told him that you would rather die than birth and Eldian bastard, but you didn’t do any of those things. because you weren’t entirely sure if that was true anymore.

[tatorthots]

— get you

featured: college!Eren x afab!reader x college!Levi, Mikasa Ackerman, Sasha Braus, Louise (canon Yeagerist)

cw: modern!au, slight fluff if you really squint, suggestive content, minors dni, toxic dynamics, possessiveness, cursing

synopsis: the life of a college student is already hard enough as it is with classes, homework, and lectures so why not add a complicated love triangle as well?

a/n: this is a repost !! I’ve written this before but decided to go back and re-edit it :) to everyone who’s read this before I hope you all enjoy this improved version!

Eren fucking Yeager.

The college campus’ fuckboy and the literal bane of your existence.

Eren has been the thorn in your side since you were both assigned dorm mates at the beginning of your junior year of college. Sure, you’ve heard of the infamous name he set out for himself as the ruthless ‘Attack Titan’ in your school's football team, and you were fully aware of his cold and narcissistic personality but hey, who were you to judge a book by its reviews, right? So you made the mistake of ever being kind to him when you first introduced yourself only to be met by desolate green eyes and a scoff. Not to mention he had the audacity to give you ‘house rules’ which basically summarized to cleaning the dorm and staying out of his way. No, Eren almost never spared you small talk or even pretended to tolerate your mere existence. Why? Who fucking knows. Honestly, you firmly believed the brunette was born with a vendetta against you — every day striving and scheming to better his tactics in making your life miserable like some ripoff supervillain. But worst of all is the fact he seemed to make a habit of following you around campus like some lost puppy. You’d think someone who supposedly hates you would do anything to keep themselves away, right? Wrong. He thrived off bickering, insulting, and annoying you at any chance he got. Weirdly enough, no matter how many times you prayed someone would approach you to give you reason to ditch him, everyone always seemed to particularly steer clear from you when he was with you. Almost as if they were too afraid to even look your way, let alone talk to you. But I guess that could all be chalked up to Erens possessive behavior; his sinister stare and malicious intent were ever present anytime anyone dared get close to you. Not that you would know though, no, you were far too busy rolling your eyes and thinking of witty comebacks or insults. Unknowingly, making it easier to keep you all to himself.

Silly girl.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The echo of a blunt object clamoring to the floor abruptly stirred you from your peaceful slumber as the sound of it rolling on the hardwood floor rattled through the cramped dorm. Sitting up from your resting position you outwardly groaned as you rubbed the sleep off your eyes, “What the hell?” you sighed. Snatching your phone from its charging port you checked the time, squinting your eyes at the sudden brightness, “5:06 a.m?” Huffing in annoyance your jaw clenched as you glared at the door, already starting bright and early this morning huh you asshole, throwing your legs off the bed you groggily made your way out your bedroom door. Fuming at the fact you were forced to wake up so early after pulling an all-nighter studying last night; which, by the way, was already hard to do with Eren and his friends cluttering around the living room all night.

“What do you think you’re doi—“ your voice came to a complete halt when your eyes landed on an opened package and your recently delivered figurine displaced out of its box and lying on the floor. And to add insult to injury there stood Erens number one psycho of a fan, Louise. Giggling to herself as she kicked what would’ve been your most prized possession away from her. “What.. what are you doing…?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as your eyes remained focused on your figurine. The same figurine you excitedly pre-ordered a year ago. You couldn’t even afford to eat for a month afterward because of how much you spent on it and now there it was being kicked around by some desperate pest? So balling your hands into fists you marched over and shoved Louise aside to see the damage she had caused. But your anger only ignited when you saw your favorite character's weapon broken in half and their stand shattered to pieces. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You seethed as you bent down to sorrowfully try to connect the shattered pieces together. You were tired. So tired of this. Carefully tightening your hold on the broken pieces; you hated how you felt like you could cry from frustration. “Oops~” was all Louise bothered herself to say in response to her crime. Quietly, almost too calmly, you spoke, “… What did you just say?” “I said ‘oops’,” she cheekily replied, “besides, it’s not my fault you leave around boxes for anyone to touch.” Resting her hand on her hip she smirked down at you, “If you really cared so much about your little dolls then you shouldn’t have been so irresponsible~ heh, hope you learned your lesson.”

Standing up from your crouched position, you side-eyed Louise with a piercing, almost eerily, hyper-focused glare. This is it, you thought before clenching your fists and raising your arm, intent on actually beating her until your knuckles ached. But before you could swing, you felt a cautious grip on your wrist and a firm hold on your hip. Everything moved so fast, you didn’t even get to acknowledge the fingertips that slid up to the hem of your latex shorts before you found yourself spun and placed behind Eren. Staring up at him you blinked a few times. “Don’t get so heated.” He spat, with a disinterest in his tone almost mocking your apprehensive reaction, “She’s my guest.” He cocked his head at you with a sarcastic smile, and god did your eye twitch. It made your stomach churn and skin crawl knowing what he meant by that, and it… hurt. Shaking your thoughts, you swat his hands off of you, and scowled at the man towering over you, daring to defend the rat responsible for all of this. Dryly you scoffed, “She’s just another fuck-buddy you bring in here ren.” Crossing your arms together you continued your jeering, “You make a mess wherever you go and you even have the audacity to drag in trash? Tch. Please.” But, oh how naive you are to not notice. The glint of amusement reflecting off Erens emerald eyes just from the venom in your tone; it makes his dick twitch. He shifts a little uncomfortably trying to ease himself before exasperatedly sighing. “Well dove,” he begins as he starts to circle around you, “maybe if you weren’t such a self-righteous prude I wouldn’t have to bring girls in here…” stopping right in front of you he leaned down to reach eye-level, his taunting gaze only inches away from you as he lowly growled out, “I could just fuck you instead.”

Truth be told, Eren knew he was full of it — straight up lying through his teeth every time he told you he didn’t want you. In reality, the man was absolutely obsessed with you and anyone with eyes could see it, everyone except you. But unfortunately, Eren isn’t the type to admit his feelings so freely, let alone submit to his emotions. No, he was too prideful for that. Don’t be too harsh on him though, I mean, the idiot hasn’t even figured out himself what it is he feels for you. It could be part of the reason why he’s so particularly hostile with you, and why he’s equally possessive. Not to mention that Eren has been the object of many’s affection since he could remember; as in he’s never not had what he did or didn’t want. He learned early on that personality and sincerity isn’t anything more than currency in this world, and he abides by that principle. So to have someone like you, who’s breathtakingly mesmerizing, compassionate, intelligent, interesting, funny, and well, you, is completely left field for this playboy. You’re everything he thought wasn’t possible. You contradict his entire worldview of people. How could he not resent you — or fall for you all the same? He hates it.

However, as of now, all you know is that you’re fed up with this situation. Pushing past them to grab your keys and hoodie, you turned around and stormed through the front door. Did you know where you were going? Not a clue. But you sure as hell aren’t going to be anywhere near here. Anywhere near him. Walking out the door you heard Louise’s cackling laugh practically grating your ears and it only made your blood simmer further as you slammed the door behind you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I’ve told you to speak to the Dean and ask for another dorm mate,” sighing as she stirred her coffee with a spoon, her dark eyes flickered up at you, “I’m sure if you explain your situation to him he’ll be more likely to accept your proposal.” Anxiously combing your hair back, you groaned at your best friend's advice, “Mikasa don’t you think I’ve already tried that?” Dramatically throwing your arms on the diner's table, you buried your face in your arms, “The Dean only has a strict appointment-based schedule,” with a pout you lift your head up slightly, “and the waiting list spans for the next four months!” Tucking your head back to sulk, Mikasa hummed in acknowledgment, but that’s when your other friend spoke up. “Then why don’t you try talking to his assistant?” Snapping your head up, you stare questioningly at Sasha as she shoved another beignet in her mouth, “Yeah but —mmph — what’s his name again?” “Levi.” Mikasa chimed in, “Levi Ackerman.” Levi Ackerman..?, you thought, Why does that name sound so familiar? But you didn’t get long to think about it before Sasha excitedly shouted out, “Yes—! Levi!” Putting her fork down she rubbed her chin in contemplation, “Huh, I heard he’s kind of a total jerk though, and everyone who’s ever met up with him spirals into some sort of existential crisis…” Mikasa kicked Sasha from under the table as she nodded in your direction, “O-oh! But um.. I mean how bad could he be, right?” Trying to nervously wave off what she said, Sasha patted you on the head, “You’ll be fine, y/n!”

I’ll be fine? Groaning again, you leaned your cheek on your hand as you looked at the people chatting or studying at their tables. “Well, I guess I don’t have much of a choice..” which to an extent is true. You either continue to put up with Eren until you eventually get an appointment with the Dean, or you talk to Levi Ackerman and hope you don’t spiral. That name though…, you pondered, Why do I know it? Smearing around the egg yolk on your avocado toast you glanced up at your friends. “Hey, why does that Levi name sound so familiar? Do we know him or something?” “Yes and no.” Sasha answered, “You’ve heard his name before because he’s that super mysterious senior everyone’s afraid of.” “He’s been the leader of the Honors Society since he was a sophomore, and he’s top-ranking academically in the country.” Mikasa added. Thinking to yourself you finally remembered, “Oh! That’s right!” You triumphantly chirped until it dawned on you what you remembered. Noticing the dread in your eyes Sasha laughed, “Mhm, you definitely look like you remember now~” “He’s that academic thug…” sinking into your chair you genuinely began to wonder who you crossed in your past life to deserve this, I probably helped commit genocide or something…, “Yeah, he’s gotten into a few fights but it’s always settled within reason.” “Pft, c’mon Mikasa, the schools probably too scared to punish its most valuable student.” Sasha snorted. “Hm. You might have a point, but it’s usually ruffians who feel they have something to prove that challenge him,” Mikasa pointed out, “He also hangs around his small clique. I think, our seniors like Petra, Eld, Gunther, Olou, and Hange.” “See y/n! How bad could he be if he hangs out with them?” Sighing, you smiled at your two closest friends and their attempt at making you feel better. “Yeah, you guys are right,” finishing your latte, you beamed down at them, “I’m gonna kick today's ass!”

After the three of you waved your goodbyes, you set off to go find the very man you only hear of through quiet whispers. Honestly, with all the mystery shrouding him you really started to believe he was some sort of urban legend the school came up with. Kind of like ‘if you don’t do your homework, Levi Ackerman will show up in your closet’ type of thing, you know? With an exasperated sigh, you look down at your clothes. Great. I’m about to meet the guy who’s also known for his ocd in a jujutsu keisen hoodie, spandex shorts, and crocs.. Sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck, you stared up at the birds flying above you, I wish I could live freely like them… Longingly looking up, you snap out of your thoughts as you approached the administrative office. Well, I promised Sasha and Mikasa I’d do this so.. here I go. Stepping into the front office you began your unexpected hour-and-a-half-long journey being sent practically all across campus in search of this Levi guy. You went from office to office, met up with more people than you’ve probably spoken to in the last two weeks, and wasted time waiting around for people who ended up either not knowing where he is or sending you back across campus. Until finally you made it to the science research facility building where you tiredly dragged yourself toward the receptionist’s desk. “Please..” you heaved, “Please tell me… *gasp of air* tell me Levi Ackerman is in this building!” Your eyes pleaded at the poor, spooked old lady as she stared at you. “Oh honey, please have a seat!” She scurried next to you and guided you to sit down, “He’s tucked away in the computer lab right now, let me go notify him!” Grabbing her arm, you peered into her eyes, “He’s here?” “Y-yes!” Nervously laughing, she placed her hand on top of yours, “You know what? How about you come with me. He’ll most likely decline your visit if I notify him.” And with that, you made your final trudge with the old lady you managed to scare into personally leading you to Levi.

“Alrighty sweetheart, this is him.” Pointing toward a large door, the receptionist politely smiled at you before hurrying back to her desk and leaving you all alone. Glancing at the wooden door, you suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety. Okay… I um.. I made it this far, right? You tried to reassure yourself but the longer you stared at the door, the more your imagination ran rampant. What if he’s big and terrifying looking? You imagined a tall, ogre-looking man, Or what if he’s a total creep? Then some balding guy who resembled a mole. If ren were here I wouldn’t feel so intimid—huh? Ren? Shuddering at your thoughts, you took a deep inhale, Alright, clearly the longer I stand here the more I’m beginning to lose it, so with a little pep-talk you figured you might as well rip the bandaid. Twisting the handle, you carefully pushed open the door and peeked inside. The entire room was almost the size of an entire lecture hall but filled with neat rows of computers. Wow… you thought as you opened the door further to step inside. Looking around the room in amazement, you immediately stopped in your tracks when you noticed a figure sitting at the front of the room reading a textbook with notebooks and papers stacked on the table. That must be him. Clearing your throat you decided to call out to him, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Levi Ackerman,” slowly walking up to him you tried to fill in the silence, “I’m assuming that’s you, right?” Closing in on the table he sat at, you managed to make out a head of black hair and.. and him drinking tea? Quirking a brow at the full tea set he had displayed, you spoke up again, “My names y/n. I wanted to talk to you about an issue I have and I was told you cou—“ “Get lost.” H-huh..? Did I mishear him? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you but I—“ “If you don’t intend to offend me then go bother somebody else. I’m busy.” His voice was deep and monotone, clearly uninterested in what you had to say by the way he didn’t even bother to acknowledge your presence.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you knitted your brows in irritation. Of course. Gritting your teeth, you strode right up to him and slammed your hand down on the desk, “You’re a tough guy to find, you know that?” You chuckled dryly, “Did you also know I spent the last two hours running around campus trying to find you? So no, I’m not leaving until you at least listen to what I have to say.” Setting his tea down, the raven-haired man finally turned to look at you, “Is that so?” He questioned, though it was clear the question was more rhetorical than genuine. With a long sigh, he swiveled his chair to completely face you; and then that’s when you flinched in surprise as you scanned him. He’s hot… you thought, Oh god, he’s hot..!? The man in question had inky black hair styled in an undercut, a complimentary choice when paired with his delicate yet sharp features. This definitely wasn’t what you expected. Even the dark circles under his eyes look good… A light blush began to creep up on your cheeks as you realized the commotion you just made in front of someone like him. All the while you stared in a flustered daze, Levi was languidly trailing his eyes across your body. Resting his head on his hand, he couldn’t deny he liked the sudden surprise presented to him. Huh.. he mused. “Well? What’s so damn important?” Straightening up at the sound of his voice, you smoothed out the wrinkles on your hoodie, “Oh! Yes, of course.. I’d like to propose a change of dorm mates.” Staring at him, the intensity in his eyes only worked to captivate you to him, “My… my roommate isn’t working out, and no matter what I try to do to civilize the situation it just doesn’t work out..” you ended, almost disappointingly. Levi hummed as he listened before standing up from his chair. “Is that what’s got you so worked up?” But something about his tone made you think he might’ve been referring to something else. “Why not go to the Dean?” He inquired as he slowly approached you, and you subconsciously took a few steps back until the back of your thighs hit a table behind you and you almost fell sitting on it. “The Dean has appointments booked all through the semester and since the matter is urgent I figured I’d reach out to his personal assistant.” The fact you managed to jumble that out without stuttering was a blessing in itself. “I see.” Narrowing his eyes on you he continued, “Then I guess I have no choice but to agree if it’s so urgent.” Blinking a few times you took a moment to process his words, Is he agreeing to help me? “Meet me later this evening to discuss the details,” his expression remained unchanged but you caught glimpse of the glimmer in his silver eyes as he stared at you, “I assume 7 works for you?” “7..?” You muttered, “Ah, yes, of course!” “Great. I’ll escort you then. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he closed in on your body and reached an arm past your waist, his lips inches away from your ear as he leaned in, “I have other matters to attend to.” Your body stiffened and your breath hitched until he pulled back with a notebook in his hand. He was.. just reaching for his notebook..? Nodding your head in agreement you politely excused yourself and raced out of the room with a bright blush searing your skin as he watched slightly amused at your disappearing figure.

After exiting the computer lab, you stood there for a few seconds in a flustered haze. What the hell just happened? Brushing your fingertips across your cheek you tried to ease away the warmth on them. Heh, I’ve gotta tell Sasha and Mikasa about this! You giddily thought as you whipped out your phone and started typing in the group chat. And after a morning of lectures and labs without your backpack, you finally made it back to your dorm. Heaving a sigh, you slung yourself on the couch and peeked your eye to where your broken figurine last lay. It’s gone… You figured Eren must’ve thrown it away along with the rest of the trash before leaving for his afternoon classes. Grabbing a pillow you covered your face and screamed into the fabric before sitting up and punching it a few times in frustration. “Fuck—!” You loudly groaned out. Why does he have to be that way? Scrunching your face, you massaged the bridge of your nose to calm down, He’s a dick to everyone, sure, but why does he target me so much? Even after… Throwing the pillow to the other side of the couch you hastily stood up and checked the time. Whatever, you bitterly thought, it’ll all be over soon enough. So you brushed off the thought and jumped in the shower to get ready for tonight’s occasion.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Rushing around your room, you turned your phone on to see 6:43 p.m. glaring at you. No, no, nononono—! Hissing in annoyance at your time management, you hurriedly slipped on a long, slit, silk skirt over your sheer tights. “Okay, alright, almooost done!” Grunting as you put on a pair of platform boots, you stood up and admired yourself in the mirror. “Heh,” you chuckled, “Elegant and fashionable with a touch of promiscuous.” After pulling a quick jojo pose in the mirror, you adjusted your open back top and strut through your bedroom door with an excited smile. But your smile immediately turned into a grimace when you caught sight of Eren and Louise lounging on the couch. Fucking bitch.. you internally sneered as you scrunched your nose in distaste. “Self-respect… and that goes for the both of them.” You mumbled under your breath. Forget it. Rummaging around the kitchen, you tried looking for your hand purse until an agitated voice called out to you.

“Shocked you’re not tryna run around empty-handed again since you had no problem with it this morning,” you could already see his irked frown, “and yeah I heard you’ve been taking a tour through campus by the way.” Roiling your eyes, you heard him shift as you clipped on your earrings, “I looked for you in the library to bring you your bag since apparently, you need everything done for y—“ widening his eyes, Erens jaw slacked as he eyed you. “…. fuck” he lowly muttered. He knew you were fine, he gets mesmerized by your beauty every day, but damn. Your leg peeking out of the silk fabric slit, and the way it’s tight fit complimented the curve of your ass was just too much for him. His mildew gaze trailed up to your open back top and he almost groaned at the slightest tease of side-boob. And just as he almost folded, he snapped out of it when he realized you were going out dressed like that. “Wait, where the fuck are you going?”

But Eren knew that wasn’t what he was really asking. No, what you wore never bothered him, in fact, he loved when you got all dolled up; let others look because he can fight — and he has, for you. What Eren was really asking was ‘Where the fuck are you going without me?’ ‘Who are you meeting?’ ‘Do you like them?’ ‘Would you forget me?’ Those were the real questions bouncing around in his head.

“Doesn’t matter.” Was all you replied, but the grip those two words had on him were like a vice. Leaning down to adjust your ankle bracelet, his eyes darted to the way your back subtly arched. He could already feel the tent growing in his pants, but he couldn’t be bothered to do something to hide it when all he could think about was how pretty you’d look stuffed full of him. He was desperate to touch you, feel you, claim you — just as desperate as he was to be owned by you, in every way, any way you’d allow him to be yours. Maybe you were just too dense for your own good. He tried his damndest to keep his composure as best as he could but his voice gave it away, “It’s a fucking date.” He snarled, low and threateningly. You glanced over at him, confused and infuriated at his audacity to interrogate you about where you were going or who you were meeting. “Doesn’t. Matter.” Both of you locked eyes as an intensity conflicted within his irises and a rage burned within yours. Scoffing, you turned on your heels, grabbed your purse, and walked toward the front door. Eren wanted to stand up and stop you, he wanted to do something anything but the pulsing ache in his pants kept him rooted to the couch. “Tell me who it is.” He demanded, and you finally reached your breaking point. Clenching your fists you turned your head and glared at Eren, “Hah. You’re really something, huh?” You condescendingly seethed, “You always bring in random girls in here almost every night and you have the fucking audacity to question me?” Reaching for the handle, you pushed open the door, “Don’t forget your place, Eren.” And his eyes widened at the use of his name, “And I won’t forget mine.” Slamming the door behind you, he felt his heart ache at the way your voice wavered when you said those last words. He wanted to argue, tell you that you’re wrong, that he’d do anything for you but he couldn’t. All he could do was stare at the door and lose himself in his thoughts.

Through the halls, you bitterly made your way outside the dormitory. Who the hell does he think he is? Roughly opening doors, you fumed, Acting like he owns me. Hah! If I didn’t know better I’d even think he cares about me. Bursting open the front doors of the dorm entrance you marched outside and hastily walked out of the dormitory district, What does he want from me? Seriously, I don’t understand him at all! You clutched your purse as you trembled with anger, He’s so confusing, ugh! He does things for me that make me feel special but then he… but then he acts like that! Like.. like Eren and I d— bumping into somebody, you stumbled back. Huh? Looking up you were surprised to see,

“Levi?”

“The hells wrong with you?” Steadying you with a hand around your arm, you didn’t realize he had grabbed you to keep you from falling, “Do you normally walk around like you’re ready to slice someone’s head off?” He asked, and you looked away in embarrassment, “.. sorry.” “Clearly whoever you’re so damn angry with should be the one apologizing,” letting go of your arm he sardonically added, “or it’s their funeral.” Covering your mouth, you laughed at his words, and his attention focused on the sound. Pretty.. he thought. Easing from your laughter, you looked up at him with a cheery smile, “Thank you for going out of your way to wait for me, I’m sorry I’m a little late.” “Yeah.. don’t-um..,” clearing his throat, Levi averted his gaze from yours, “Don’t worry about it.” Blinking at him, you stood admiring the way the luminescent streetlights illuminated his clear skin, “We should get going.” Interrupting your daze, you tilted your head in curiosity, Hm? Oh, that’s right, “Where are we going?” Checking his watch, his sharp eyes flickered up at you, “There’s a cafe I frequent often,” walking next to you, he placed his hand on the small of your back to guide you next to him and away from the street, “It’s a little hidden but they have a good atmosphere.” His gaze drifted to you and carefully took in the sight of you, “I hope it’s to your taste.” Glancing at him your eyes sparked with excitement, “A hidden cafe? I love checking out new coffee shops to study in! I’m looking forward to potentially adding another shop to my list!” Levi watched as you buzzed with enthusiasm. He was a little apprehensive about inviting you out to a small cafe, not knowing if it’d be something you’d enjoy, so to see you react so excitedly he sighed in relief. Seems this little venture might actually be worth its while. Unbeknownst to you, Levi did do a little background check on you through his student access — perk of being the Deans assistant — and he was pleasantly surprised to see all the achievements and participation activities you had under your belt. Most students don’t bother to do more than get through classes and do solely what’s asked of them as students. So his interest most definitely peaked when he quickly scanned through your transcript. Charming, fierce, intelligent, and beautiful. Lucky me.. he mused.

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[chigirisprincess]

Covered in the Colour of You ࿐

— Armin Arlert

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, cisfem reader (use of girl as reference to the reader), reader's hair gets combed through, reader wears a nightgown, post-canon exploration of characters and setting, reader is mentally ill (so is Armin), hunger as a metaphor for desire, love as consumption, love confessions, first times (Armin is a virgin, Reader is not), first kisses, sex on a table, some foreplay, unprotected sex, creampies, ambiguous ending, angst, hurt/some comfort, childhood friends to lovers. ⊹ Run time. 10k ⊹ Note. I don't know how we got here but I'm glad we did. This was meant to be a cute comfort fic to deal with the ending of Attack on Titan but it became so much more, I hope you enjoy.

❝A surprise visit from your childhood friend, Armin Arlert forces you to confront the feelings you've been harbouring for over a decade..❞

The Jägerist’s cries are deafening, they bounce off the clay brick walls of the surrounding houses and slither through your shuttered window panes. Every Tuesday and Thursday, the newly minted Paradis military regiment convenes in the small town square within the rebuilt city of Shiganshina. It took them just under a month to replace the fallen with green boys and girls who were just buzzing at the idea of honouring Eren Jäger and avenging his death. Once Paradis managed to secure the resources– if there were any left– you were certain that the military would erect a bronze statue of Paradis’ “saviour”. For now, they’d bother napping babies and the elderly folk who milled about the area to soak in some of the sun’s sweet warmth. 

Today they seemed to be reminding those who’d spare an ear to listen, that traitors would soon shore and with them came treasonous falsehoods. If not for Queen Historia who still harbours some morsel of affection for her old comrades, they’d be as good as dead the moment their ship docked. Word spread quickly, how you weren’t sure, but like wildfire the claim that Armin Arlert had been the one to kill Eren Jäger scorched the plains and further sowed the seeds of instability amongst the population. 

The irony of such a ludicrous statement was not lost on you. Armin Arlert couldn’t kill Eren Jäger, they were best friends and all of Shiganshina knew there could not be one without the other. You had known the two almost as long as they had known each other. Shiganshina wasn’t so big in those days, Grisha Jäger was the only doctor and Armin’s father was something of a handyman. They were who you called upon when something was amiss and you’d thank them with a warm meal or something sweet. That was what you did in those days, you showed kindness wherever you could. They were so simple, those days when the walls kept secrets and our minds were shrouded with ignorant bliss. Some mornings when you woke before the sun had yet risen, you wished Paradis could have remained tucked safely beneath the blanket King Fritz had pulled over the island. 

What little sense of communal affection remained dwindled with calls to action that erupted from the square.

This morning, the sense of longing that had settled between your lungs weighed heavily as you listened to the shouting. You wished the clock would turn back and the next time you woke, you’d be ten years old and the house you lived in would be your home. It was sort of a sick joke, to be given the keys to the house built upon the rubble of your family's home. Floch handed you the keys as if he had done you this great personal service when it had been Eren, Armin, Mikasa, and their friends who had dug through the wreckage to salvage the home they too had lost. Vagrancy was tiring and what little money you had to your name after years of working for meagre wages that just barely covered your expenses, maybe you should have been grateful to at least collect a few pieces of your life before even if they jagged and misshapen. Something was better than nothing, wasn’t it?

It had to be. 

There needed to be some reason for you to keep going. Lately, there didn’t seem to be any. Everything felt wrong. The once-cobbled streets were made of smooth even stone that allowed you to bounce around the city with ease, it reminded you of the capital. As a child, you often felt jealous that Wall Sina was home to such niceties while you were made to trip over protruding stones and wade through mud puddles in the wet months. Now though, you’d give anything for a semblance of a distant past that would make Shiganshina home once more. But as you lingered around your old haunts, searching for familiar faces and memories that would ease the pain in your chest, all you’d find was something new and foreign that left you feeling disappointed.

Turning over onto your side you curled inwards, a soft sigh passing your lips as you willed your mind to banish the longing that gnawed at you. The cool breeze that glides through your window leaves goosebumps on the bits of flesh that aren’t being swaddled by your thin white blanket. All the battle cries seemed to have simmered down as the sun inched closer toward the middle of the sky. You might be able to catch the morning market before they pack up their wares for the day if you leave now. Your icebox was pathetically empty, with only a head of rapidly wilting lettuce and milk to occupy the space. Sitting upward with a yawn, you cast a glance toward your dresser. Your clothes hang sloppily over the side of the open drawers. You should probably tidy things up before the hour grows too late.

The sleek, mousy brown floorboards that make up the second story of your house do not creak as you pad across the room—your chest aches, though you’ve grown desensitised to the familiar feeling. Your house used to creak and groan when the wind blew too roughly, and the walls were thin enough that you’d wake to the sound of your mother humming as she prepared breakfast for your family. You tried not to dwell too hard, if anything you should have been relieved. An unexpected storm wouldn’t dare to blow the roof off your house now. 

Plucking the soft, brown wool knit cardigan off the lip of your cracked door you slipped the fabric over your body. Your delicate muslin nightgown did little to keep the morning chill away. It did even less to preserve any ounce of modesty. Your bare feet slapped against the stairs as you headed downward, and a soft knock sounded at your door. Pulling your cardigan closer to your body you sighed. It must have been Mrs. Bergmann from next door coming to check on you, make sure you left your house this week, let in some fresh air– function as any other human would, that sort of stuff. She had been widowed long ago, her only son had been one of the many scouts to give his life for a free Paradis. There wasn’t much for her to do aside from checking in on her neighbours. She was a wife, a mother– it was in her nature to nurture all the little lost souls she came across.

“I’m coming Mrs. Bergmann,” You called, your voice echoing around the empty space that would have been your living room, “You don’t need to call in Werner to bust down the door just yet!”

Forcing a smile to your lips, you prepared yourself to open the door. Mrs. Bergmann was well-meaning on the best of days, if a little nosey on the worst. It was better to have someone than no one at all, you remind yourself, pushing back the urge to blanche and roll your eyes at the urgency of her knocking. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you hope your hair wasn’t too gnarly after all the tossing and turning you did last night. The door opens with a soft click as you twist the knob open.

Shock blows through you as you blink at the person on the other side. Your eyes frantically open and close, trying to make sense of who stood before you but as your synapses fired off round after round, searching for something, they found nothing.

“Armin?” You timidly ask, your throat twists up and grows dry.

The syllables on your tongue felt wrong. Maybe, the muscles had just forgotten how his name tasted. As a child, his name rolled off your tongue sweetly and constantly. Back then, there had been too many emotions packed inside your small body, you could never make sense of them, all you knew was that they all led back to the man in front of you. Your cheeks warmed at the reminder of the crush you used to harbour, of how you’d write your name and his, silently calling yourself Mrs. Arlert as if she hadn’t already existed in the form of his mother.

Armin’s cheeks grow round with the shy smile he wears, “Hi,” he says. The remnants of his boyhood live in the soft curve of his jaw and the cherub-like softness of his rosy complexion. 

“Hi,” you breathlessly whispered as you searched for any other lingering signs of familiarity. 

“May I come in?” he asks, his nervous hands smooth imaginary wrinkles in his sage green tie. The breath is selfishly stolen from your lungs by the greedy, monster who lived inside of you. They swallowed back the traces of your youth, you hoped it was enough to placate them because as long as your breath was hitched, no words could come forth.

Armin’s blue eyes curiously peered back at you from beneath his pale blonde lashes. He was still quite pretty, but the edge of maturity that marred his features made your heart flutter in a way it never had. The desperate longing that clawed at your rib cage slowed, pawing instead as its interests morphed into something more amorous. You would have beaten it down if you could, shame prickles your skin as you clear your throat.

“Of course,” you stutter, opening the door to make room for him to enter, “You’ll have to excuse my appearance, I wasn’t expecting any guests this morning.”

His smile is polite, “What about Mrs. Bergmann?” He inquires, his eyes darting around to drink in the interior of your house. It looked just like the one he was raised in but it had been twelve years since he stepped foot in one. The scouts lived in barracks that were carved out of long-since abandoned castles, “You seemed to be expecting her.”

“Ah, not exactly,” you muttered, offering him a seat at your dining table, “She’s just the only visitor I have as of late … So, what brings you by?”

Armin declines the seat, instead pulling out the chair opposite of him for you. You thank him with a small bow of your head. His knuckles brush against your shoulders as he slides his fingertips along the edge of your chair before swinging around to the other side. In a world of boys, Armin Arlert was a gentleman, as he always had been, even at the age of ten when boys took to tugging girls' pigtails for attention. His grandfather would be proud of the young man he’s become. You think Mr. Arlert would have been proud even if all Armin did was survive.

The warm yellow sunlight filters through the windows and turns Armin’s hair a shade of bleach blonde. His skin is tanned, his cheeks rosy. He looks healthy, he’s a bit taller too. His hair was different too now that you took a moment to look at it, only slightly so. The shaved undercut reminded you of the short, stoic captain whose charge Armin was in for years.

Insecurity stirred in your belly. You thought of what you might look like to him being so dishevelled in nothing but a nightgown and cardigan. Unkempt, that is how you must have appeared to him. The bike in your stomach burns at the back of your throat as you cross your legs and tuck as much of your body beneath the table as you can. 

“I just wanted to see you,” he says, resting his linked hands on the table, “It’s been a while since we last spoke.”

It’s been over four years, the bitter overly insecure voice in your head hisses, “It has, but you’ve been busy, saving the world and all,” you say instead, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, “Honestly I must confess, I'm a bit surprised, I thought you and the other ambassadors would be meeting with the Queen.”

What you truly mean to say dangles in the air. Armin can feel it, he shifts in his seat— why wasn’t he with someone more important? How did he manage to sneak past the Jägerists predatory gaze? He shouldn’t have been here. The anguish that wrought the shores of Paradis couldn’t be fixed with a measly conversation but surely, it was a start so, why was he here with you?

“She met our boat at the harbour to ensure our safe passage into the city,” he explains, picking at his fingers, “We’re still trying to coordinate with the army but they’ve agreed to allow free reign of Shiganshina so long as we remain unarmed.”

“It would be rather counterintuitive for peace ambassadors to bear arms.”

Armin lets out a small chuckle, smiling a bit to himself.

“But, they’ve already proved their incompetence in thinking trained soldiers need weapons to fight,” you muttered, casting your eyes away from him, “I … My apologies, I shouldn't speak ill of your comrades.”

“They’ve dissolved the Scout Regiment, I’m no longer a soldier and they are not my comrades,” Armin swiftly replies.

He fiddles with his tie again, flattening out the fabric with scar-riddled hands. The last time you saw him, his skin was surprisingly unmarred. Old scars you could have sworn imprinted his skin ceased to exist, something to do with his newfound titan ability, that’s what Eren said when he rolled up his sleeves to expose his own blemish-free body. It seemed unnatural then, for the pieces of personal history to be erased but Armin felt alien enough without you reminding him of how much he had changed. 

“Yes, but-”

“How are you doing?” He interrupts, and an apologetic look swims within the depths of his baby blue eyes. His time in the military was a touchy subject, which was to be expected but it didn’t wash away the burn of curiosity that ribbed at your bones, “When I last wrote to Mikasa, she said she hadn’t seen you in some time in spite of being neighbours.”

Pursing your lips, you sigh, “I’m doing well Armin,” it’s a bald-faced lie but the two of you have become so estranged, Armin couldn’t know you the way he once did, not when so much time has washed the imprints you’ve pressed upon each other as it brought in the tide, “How are you?”

“That’s not an answer,” Armin frowns, the dip of his lips making his cheeks round in a way that reminds you that he is only twenty-two, “I haven’t seen you in four years, I … I want to know what your life is like.”

Reaching over the table, Armin takes your hand in his. If he notices the irritated and oozing flesh around your cuticles, he keeps it well hidden. Smoothing his thumb over your knuckles, Armin settles his eyes on yours, taking in the two little lines that have been carved into your skin from how often you furrow your brows. There was no “correct” way to tell someone that you spent most of your afternoons curled up in bed, lying listlessly as you listened to the sounds of the bustling street below. Armin had a penchant for worrying, he’d worry about your well-being when there were far more important issues for him to focus on. 

“It’s not so different from before.”

Armin was unconvinced. Eight years ago, after the Scout Regiment took control of the central government, a bit of money was sent your way in addition to your rebuilt childhood home. Though they wouldn’t say it, you believed that Eren, Armin, and Mikasa felt guilty for abandoning you the moment they turned twelve thus becoming eligible to enrol in the Cadet Corps. You had no interest in joining the Scouts, Military Police, or the Garrison but Eren was determined and wherever Eren went so too did Mikasa and Armin. With no family and no friends, you had to fend for yourself. It wasn’t so bad. A woman, you could hardly remember her name now, paid you to care for her youngest child while she and her husband worked, and their older children attended school. She gave you room and board, fed you three square meals, and gave you “hand-me-downs” to wear.

In the chaos of Trost being breeched you became separated and weeks later learned that the family perished. You used what little money you managed to save to pay for board in an inn near Jinae where you worked as a stable hand until your childhood friends and their comrades came bearing gifts. You’d need to find work soon. Now that you were of age, you were sure to find a cushy job as a barmaid at the local tavern. 

“You think it is?” You asked, biting on your bottom lip.

Armin nods. His grip tightens and he mutters a low, “Sorry” when you wince from how he accidentally squishes your fingers beneath his.

Shrugging your shoulders you think back to the before much like you did most days, “Paradis is being run by lunatics who worship a dead man,” you blanche, your chest preemptively tightening from your nerves, “That’s not so different to before when this shitty little island was run by lunatics who worshipped the walls.”

Except now, people actually paid mind to the chirping loons. They had access to weapons that could wipe out what was left of humanity and certainly were unafraid to use them. Crossing them would be a very stupid and very dangerous mistake. Bravery was what this island prided itself on, now the most one could muster was a contempt-filled glower that was sent in passing. 

“That’s not …” Armin’s voice trailed off. There was that look of guilt again. 

“I know.”

Lacing your fingers between his, you squeeze Armin’s hand.

“It’s not your fault, Armin,” you assure, your mouth twisting up into a strange smile. The muscles in your face seemed to ache as though you were contorting your expression, “You know that, right?”

He nods his head, and strands of his pale blonde hair fall against his forehead as he does, “I know,” he whispers with conviction though his hand trembles in yours. You remain unconvinced, guilt rolls off his shoulders in sickening waves.

“It’s not Eren’s fault either.”

You’re unsure why you say it. It was Eren’s fault. It was his name and his image that they fought for. Whatever politics happened behind closed doors did not matter, not when he died knowing that those men and women idolised him and would wage wars in his name. One spoiled fruit rotted away the entire crop and now Paradis was ready to cosign its doom, picking on the weakened and the damned as if this island had not once been just the same.

“Thank you,” Armin mouths, his voice barely audible as he clears his throat and replaces his expression with a friendly smile.

“I guess the trains are different,” you blurt, looking for a way to steer the sinking ship that was this conversation, “I’ll never get used to them, they’re so loud and dark inside.”

“Glad to know our hard work is being appreciated.” 

You lift the corners of your lips to smile at him, “It is, the horses are very grateful to no longer be worked to the bone by merchants transporting goods from Maria to Sheena,” you say, nearly forgetting that there no longer was an interior or exterior to name, “Life here is still simple, Armin, there isn’t much to update you on.”

“Still-”

“We can’t all be heroes,” you jest, nudging his foot beneath the table, “So, tell me what is life like for you?”

Armin withdraws his hands from yours, “It’s all I talk about, I don’t want to talk about it with you,” he explains, swallowing thickly, “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.”

Rising from your seat you round the corner of the small table to press the palm of your hand between his shoulder blades. The gesture is meant to be comforting but you feel awkward, like you shouldn’t be touching him like this though your body craved the knowledge of what his skin would like against yours. The tips of your fingers graze the edge of his crisp collar, you hastily jerk back, eyes narrowing to inspect the fabric for any unwanted crinkles you may have caused.

“I’ve been such a bad host,” you mutter, “My mother would be so disappointed that I haven’t asked you if you’d like anything to drink.”

“Tea if you have any, please.”

You nod again, you still have some dried chamomile that Mrs.Bergmann gave to you when you confessed to her that you struggled to sleep some days. The tea didn’t help but it was the thought that counted. Goosebumps trailed up the length of your bare legs and you cursed yourself for not excusing yourself to dress before you sat down with Armin. The early spring air wouldn’t warm until the late afternoon most days. 

Armin’s gaze is heavy. He watches you flutter about your kitchen with keen intent. His eyes slither up your body in a methodical manner. You’re unsure if he’s leering the way men unabashedly do when they’re three pints in or if he’s searching for any indication that something might be amiss. You hope it’s the latter. It should be the latter, you didn’t feel uncomfortable and Armin wasn’t one to steal eyefuls of others.

“Do you still like it with milk and honey?” you ask, though you’ve already reached into the icebox in search of the milk you knew was in there. Hopefully, it hasn't yet spoiled.

You flinched when you rose to your full height. Armin had materialised behind you. The jug nearly drops from your hand but Armin is quick to wrap his fingers around the handle, overtop of your hand. He guides the jug to the counter and reaches an arm around you to take the teapot off the heat before it can release a shrill squeal. 

Pressing your hand to your chest, you murmur a breathless, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Armin chirps.

His eyes bore into yours, he’s inspecting you once more. Whatever he’s in search of, you’re certain he isn’t going to find it. The girl that he once knew was not the same woman that stood before him, nor was he the same boy even if his eyes twinkled just the same. That was growing up. Your stomach grumbled, licking its chops as the wanting returned. Your eyes trickled down Armin’s face until they settled on his cupid's bow. His lips were full and a dusted pink colour. They were nice, you remember wondering what they’d feel like against yours if it’d hurt to kiss him after he’d bitten his lips raw with stress. 

The sharp edge of the counter digs into the plush flesh of your hips as you press your body against it. Hunger is as frightening as it is all consuming. You are hungry. Are you hungry for him? You’ve craved and yearned for places and their people, but never their bodies. The one time you allowed a man in your bed it’d been out of curiosity and some twisted need to feel something, anything other than the dull twinge of melancholy that sprouted from the roots it planted in your heart. 

Armin placed his hand on your chest where your heart was. The heat of his palm melted through the thin fabric of your nightgown, causing you to instinctively shiver, “Your heart is racing,” he comments, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, “I didn’t startle you, did I?”

“No.”

“How is Annie?” You nervously ask, searching for a way to stifle the deluded desire that coursed through your veins, “Last I heard from Hitch, she had been freed from her crystal and joined you. That must have been exciting, being able to speak to her after so many years.”

His face crinkles up into a confused expression, “Annie is fine, they’re all fine. Connie and Jean are excited to see their mothers,” he replies slightly, cocking his head to the side, “Why do you ask?”

You shrug your shoulders. Armin doesn’t remove his hand. Your heart skips a beat, you’re sure he feels it. 

“Was just curious I guess, since I heard you had feelings for her.”

“Annie and I are friends, nothing more,” his nose crinkles, he seems to want to ask where you hear such a ludicrous rumour but doesn’t. When he wasn’t with the scouts, he was with her crystal, talking as if one day she might answer back.

“Oh.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Armin counters, his long pale lashes fluttering against his cheek as he blinks, “You’ve always been … quite the catch.”

His voice trails off, he regrets his wording. He didn’t want to liken you to fish or cattle but of all the vast information stored in his brain, there seemed to be nothing on complimenting women. Not that he’s done much of that in his lifetime. There’s never been a need to. Armin wants to compliment you, to tell you how he really feels but it gets clogged in his throat as he struggles to get a read on you.

Shaking your head, you avert your gaze.

It’s not for a lack of trying or wanting. None of the relationships you pursued ever felt right. Their hands didn’t fit within yours the way they were supposed to. Your body was hallowed out in the middle but they couldn’t fill you up. It wasn’t their fault. You’d accept that you were broken, someone who simply wasn’t meant to be loved. It was easy. Until now, when the one person your heart still clung to stood here and dangled himself like a carrot.

“Good, you’re too good for anyone on this island,” his proclamation makes your skin itch. Even if what he said were true, you would have to settle for someone on this island eventually, lest you spend the rest of your life as alone as you are now, “You deserve someone who’s good enough for you.”

You nearly laugh, though he makes this statement with such earnestness that you’re almost inclined to believe him. Almost.

“Who then?”

Looking into his eyes made your lungs ache. There was nowhere to escape with how he pinned you in place with his gaze.

“Who’s good enough for me?” You ask, your nails digging into the wood counter as you curl your fists around the lip of it, “You?”

Armin rolls his eyes and the sight alone shocks you, “No, I could never be good enough for you,” a laugh springs forth, crackling past your lips before you’re able to stop it, “Is something funny?”

His cheeks turn red with embarrassment but there's nowhere for him to hide either.

“No … Yes, actually,” you sigh, expelling all the air from your lungs as you muster up the resolve to be truthful, “I have loved for as long as I can remember and I have wanted you even before I even knew what love truly was.”

Your fingers coil around his wrist, intent on wrenching his hand away from your chest but the look in his eyes stops you. Sadness and self-loathing meet in the bright blue pools of his irises. You were born six months before he was but he’s always seemed years ahead of you. There was a certain kind of wisdom that surrounded him, you weren’t sure why. Now though, whatever maturity that shrouded Armin vanished and all that lay beneath was a newborn fawn that teetered on legs far too long for him.

Your nails dig into the cuff of his jacket, crinkling the pristine fabric, “There is not a day that goes by where I haven’t thought of you.”

“I’m no good for you either,” he says with a wet laugh. His eyes shone with welled up tears that had no business blurring his gaze.

“Because you’ve killed people?” You ask, your brows furrowing as you frown, “There are many people who have done worse for less. At least you had a reason.”

“I could never be the man that you need me to be.”

“Not even for an afternoon?” You had always known his future held more than your own, even before he became humanity's saviour. He’d make his peace with Paradis and leave, maybe he’d come back years from now, or maybe he’d plant his roots elsewhere.

His hand trembles as he shakes his head, “No.”

Pressing his forehead against yours, he releases a shaky exhale. You bite back the urge to ask him once more why he was here. You were never that close as children, you were close in a way that all of Shiganshina was but never anything more than, at least nothing that would have meant this unannounced visit was appropriate.

“Why?”

“You should live a quiet life,” Armin whispers, his lips nearly grazing yours as they move to form each syllable, “A happy life, after all you’ve been through, you deserve it.”

Your eyes flutter shut, “And you don’t?” It’s a stupid question, really, if he believed he did this conversation wouldn’t be happening, “You’ve been through far more than I, you’ve lost so much more.”

“I have even more to atone for.”

His bottom lip quivers as he presses the weight of his body into you. He’s heavier than you could have imagined, and his body is harder too. Somewhere between now and then his lithe frame melded into lean muscle and it serves as another reminder of how much time has passed, how little you two knew of each other now. Trailing your fingertips over his shoulder, you slide your arm around him, pulling him into an embrace. Armin shudders in your hold, a meek whimper slipping past his lips as he crushes his body into yours. Your nails press into the sliver of skin that peeks over the lip of his collar. 

It's the nape of his neck.

When titans were simply the monsters that hid beneath your bed and plagued your dreams, it was common knowledge that the way to snuff them out was through the nape. It felt oddly vulnerable for your hand to roam over the smooth expanse of skin, though even as a titan shifter it was no weak spot, it may well have been with the way his body shook in your arms.

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to live or to love,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, “You get to love now, you get to be loved. Armin, you’re allowed to have things and to want things even after all that has happened.”

Armin sniffles, pressing his nose in your hair. The scent of the lavender soap you’ve used for as long as you could remember still clings to your hair. You wonder if he remembers if that is why he burrows his face deeper until the tip of his nose and his lips brush against the skin of your neck. 

Wanting was hard.

So little felt tangible and on the off chance it was, it remained just out of reach. Like a tease, that brushed your fingertips as you outstretched your arm before pulling away or a glimpse of the sun before an array of clouds moved in from across the sky. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted something. Whatever it was you felt for Armin simmered lowly on a back burner until now, longing did not serve survival. Still, you wanted him but not in the way magpies coveted shiny trinkets but in the way the stars longed for the moon. It was a constant, all consuming yearning that made your stomach twist inward at the strange sensation.

“I don’t even …” Armin trails off, his voice wet with emotion, “I can’t remember the last time I allowed myself to desire something.”

Leaning back, Armin allows enough space for him to look at your face. His cheeks are pink, blotchy, and shiny with half dried tears that pooled atop the apples of his cheeks. Cupping your face with the palm of your hand, he smiles sadly at you.

“But, all I have wanted for years was to know what it is like to kiss you.”

Your body burns, not with embarrassment but something else.

“Is that all?” You ask.

The corners of Armin’s mouth twitch upward, “Maybe not but I let go of those dreams long ago.”

“You kept this one, why?”

“Wishful thinking, maybe or … ?” Armin says, scrunching his brows together as he trails off, “You’ve always been here, you’ve been a constant in this ever changing world so I suppose I hoped there’d be a day where I could …”

“Kiss me?”

Armin bashfully nods, biting his lip a bit.

The shiny metal kettle of water grows cold in the length of time you and Armin spend silently staring at each other. He assesses you, slowly, looking for any signs that your affection for him remained buried in the past. You spoke in the past tense, and your words were too easily misconstrued. Your hands slip to cup the underside of his jaw. All this waiting, all this thinking was maddening when you knew exactly what you wanted. His face replaced those of all the men you kissed, his body manifested in the throngs of taverns like an apparition to taunt you. You wanted to kiss him more than you wanted anything else in this world.

His skin was warm to the touch, you’re sure yours is too. You feel warm like you’ve been dipped in melted candle wax. A bit of stubble tickles the palm of your hands and it makes you giggle. His hair is so fair, you didn’t even notice. Armin’s shoulders tense as you lean in, insecurity claws at your throat but you’ve already taken the leap. You were too far gone now to change your mind. Gently grazing your lips across his, you give Armin a chance to back away but he only leans in closer, his calloused thumbs bite into the soft edge of your jawline as he instinctively squeezes you.

Armin’s lips are slightly chapped and scabbed over in a way that tells you he still nervously chews them when he’s worried. He’s inexperienced, that you were expecting, not that you were particularly tactful with how you clumsily melded your mouth against his. Though, he didn’t seem to mind as he eagerly attempted to mimic each movement. The thread of want that coiled around your stomach roared, begging for your attention as pulled away.

The small noise of disappointment that gathers in the back of Armin’s throat does not fall deaf upon your ears. But, you feel ravenous. If you didn’t slither away now, you’d consume him, bones and all, before he’d even had the chance to register that you sunk your teeth into his sternum. You feel ravenous. It makes your skin itch. Your fingers twitched, they desperately wished to burrow themselves into his flesh to feel how his heart thrummed for you.

Through lidded eyes, Armin peers at you, “Just like I thought,” he says, his cheeks somehow deepening in colour.

“What do you mean?”

“One kiss and I’m gone,” he explains but that doesn’t smooth the confused furrow from between your brows, “I want more, I don’t know how I’m meant to live on knowing what it’s like to kiss and never being able to again.”

Your nose scrunches as you frown, “Say who?”

“Pardon?”

“Who said that I’d never kiss you again?” You ask, smoothing your thumb along the length of his stubbly jaw, “Because, I never said that.”

“I just thought-”

Looping your arms around his neck you sigh, “Stop thinking so much,” you whine, allowing yourself to relish in the knowledge that he too wanted more, “Sometimes things are far simpler than you make them out to be.”

Armin bashfully dips his chin for a moment, his heat filled gaze cast away which offers you some reprieve. Only for a short moment, though. He faces you once more in an instant. You can see it swimming in the pools of his irises, the want, the hunger. It’s something you never imagined to be reflected back to you, least of all from Armin. It thrills you all the same, your skin prickling with electricity that crackles to life when he reaches for your hips.

It’s gentlemanly, how he rests his hands respectively over your body with a feather light touch that may flee should you move too quickly. You want more though, you wish he’d take claim to you the way you the way your cunt ached for.

“Are they?”

You nod, fearing your voice would somehow betray you.

He too nods, far more thoughtful than you were, “You know, I loved you too, never had any doubts of what it was,” he muses, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows, “It never faded either even when I lost and confused about what came next.”

His admission makes you bristle, your ears perking up in search of any misspoken syllables that may have deluded you. There were none. There was no mistaking what Armin had confessed. It doesn’t feel real. You’d pinch yourself if Armin’s watchful gaze was pointed anywhere but you. That alone was proof enough that this was very real, Armin just confessed his love for you.

“And you?” Armin asks.

“Huh?”

Your heart pounds, screaming over the sound of Armin’s voice. You suck in a shaky breath and will your heart to calm down. In all your years of wanting, of yearning, you never imagined what it would be like to have your feelings reciprocated. You assumed neither of you would live long enough for anything to come to fruition. But you could hope now, right?

“Did your feelings for me ever fade?”

“No … no, never,” admitting out loud that you pined after a boy for nearly two decades would have made you feel pathetic if it wasn’t Armin who pulled the truth from where it coiled around your ribs,  “Even if I wanted them too, they never would. You’re it for me, you’re the only person I was made to love.”

You didn’t fancy yourself a dreamer. At least, not after everything was said and done. There wasn’t much to dream up, but if you were to dream or indulge you’d tell him that there could never be anyone else because your souls were tied together. It was a terribly selfish thought but it was true enough that you felt inexplicably tied to Armin. Even if this day passed and you never saw him again, your heart would remain his until you both returned to earth.

Armin kisses you before you’re able to backpedal on any of your words, almost shyly, but still eager enough that his need rolls off his body in waves and crashes into you. His nails press through the thin material of your nightgown to nip at your hips. You’re reminded of just how strong he has become in all your years apart when you feel his muscles ripple through his forearms.

“Armin,” you sharply whisper between the desperate press of his mouth to yours, “I want you.”

It’s an unfinished thought. There are too many words that could come next and not enough actions to convey what it is you want. Threading your fingers through carefully styled hair, you tug at the strands. Armin keens into your mouth, one of his hands shooting out to grasp the edge of the counter you were pressed against. Having braced himself, he’s careful not to put too much of his weight onto you as his body melts into yours. 

“I’m right here,” he says, with a slight laugh.

Resting your forehead against his, you sigh, “I want you,” you repeat, untangling your fingers from his hair to fiddle with the top button of his shirt. You flick it open, slowly testing the waters. There’s a sparse patch of flaxen hair that leads your gaze past his collarbones, “I want to be close to you, close with you…” 

Your whisper, wanton words did little to clarify what you meant, Armin’s confused stare was fixed on your swollen, kiss bitten lips. Popping open another button, you glare at his tie. It constricts the fabric of his shirt from spilling open any further. Pulling the tongue of the tie out from where it’s neatly tucked in his waistband, you tug on it until you’re nose to nose. You swallow thickly, your gaze trailing down the expanse of his neck. The muscles strained beneath the skin as he nervously clenched his jaw.

“Oh … Oh.”

The red in his cheeks deepened. He looked a bit like a tomato but it was rather endearing.

“...Yeah?”

He nods a bit too quickly, “Yeah,” he agrees, biting his bottom lip, “I want this, I want this with you.”

Tentatively, Armin rests his hands on your shoulder and thumbs at the worn wool of your well loved cardigan. The fabric is slowly peeling away from your body, slipping down your biceps to pool in the crook of your elbows. Your heart flutters, it’s a strange sensation and for a moment you wonder if it’s healthy. It can’t be, not with how your stomach lurches alongside your heart. Unfurling your fists from his tie, you straighten your arms and allow your cardigan to unceremoniously fall to the floor.

“Are you sure?” You ask, your fingers skimming the delicate neckline of your nightgown. You weren’t yet so overcome with lust that you forgot yourself or Armin’s apparent lack of experience.

His hands replace yours, “Yes,” his skin is clammy but so is yours, the sheen of nervous sweat that gathers along your jugular feels disgusting when laid overtop of goosebumps but you can’t will either away, “You’re special to me … there isn’t anyone else I would want to do this with.”

“You’re not just saying this because you want to die with no regrets?”

You cringe at the crippling edge of insecurity that creeps over you, mentally slapping your hand in shame. Bad! You silently scold. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. In spite of all that happened, the future was never promised, you both knew that much. There was no shame in wanting to taste all life had to offer just in case. It was human nature.

“I’m going to live a very long life,” Armin says with a confident smile. Such sureness would usually make you roll your eyes in annoyance but Armin doesn’t say it to be boastful– even if he had, he’d have earned it– he says it matter of fact, he will live a long life in spite of everything, “And so are you, there’s no need to think in half measures filled with worries because we’re going to live long beautiful lives filled with everything we could ever want.”

It’s a pretty picture he paints but you can’t help but whisper, “We are?”

Smoothing his calloused thumbs along the column of your throat, Armin exhales, “Yes, we are,” you almost believe him, his optimism was just that convincing, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Armin tugs on the loop that keeps your nightgown tied closed, not minding that the two of you still stand in your kitchenette and it’s his first time. He gently guides the thin cotton fabric open to expose your chest but doesn’t move to pull the cloth from your body. In turn, you push his jacket off his shoulders and toss it to the floor with your cardigan. He unbuttons his shirt, letting it fall open to reveal his lithe abdomen. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, walking backwards at your behest, “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

His brows shoot into his hairline when he bumps into the edge of your table, “I never pegged you to be such a flatterer, Mister Arlert,” you tease, pushing his chest until he takes the hint to hop onto the tabletop, “You tell all the girls that?”

It’s easy to wear a smile and play the part of a bashful lovestruck young lady. It’s only half a performance. There were parts of you that have long since been buried amongst the past lives you lived. They seemed to come back to you with each puff of breath that passed your lips. You slip in and out of you were and you could become. It’s frightening and thrilling. You like the rush you get when he smiles back at you. It’s megawatt bright and wide enough to take up most of his face. You wonder if he feels it too, the pieces that come together like a puzzle. He must, that’s why he smiles and allows himself to indulge in the perilous depths of wanting that lap at your bellies.

“No,” he playfully rolls his eyes, his fingers splaying out as he presses his palms flat against the table, “Only you. It’s only ever been you.”

Your stomach somersaults, you could get used to the feeling, the flirting, being desired earnestly. 

You’ve been desired before but those men didn’t desire you, but rather the idea of you, your house, even your cunt, but never really you. They never filled you with empty promises, their intentions quite clear from the first shared mug of ale. It never bothered you before but now it does. You wish you didn’t fall for their promise of something good when the real thing was so much better now that you had it in your grasp.

The tip of his shoe just barely grazes the floor as he swings his leg back and forth, stepping into the space between his spread legs, you graze your fingertip along the length of his thigh. The metal of his belt glints in the warm morning light. You should probably bring him upstairs, to your bedroom. You worry if you do, you’ll lose the nerves that have steeled over to service the aching monster in your belly. Tomorrow he might think you crass, perhaps he would even sooner when the haze of desire faded and he was left with the weight of his indulgence.

“May I? 

“Yes, please,” Armin breathes, shuddering a bit when you place your hand on the buckle.

His hips twitch upward, seeking the warm touch of your hand. Daring to cast your gaze downward, you rake your eyes over his growing bulge. His belt clinks open and you suck in a nervous breath. You’re about to ask if you can unbutton his dress pants when he whispers another small plea, his breath heavy.

A few strands of hair slip over the edge of your shoulder, Armin tucks them behind your ear with a pleased smile. His cock springs forth when you pull the waistband of his underwear downward. The wispy trail of hair that disappears beneath his shirt is a shade darker, but just as fine as the hair on his head. Your mouth waters at the sight of his rosy tip, precum oozes when you gently squeeze the base of his cock. Slowly pumping your hand up and down his length, you glance at Armin.

His bottom lip is squished between his teeth, hiding the sweet little sounds that travel up his throat. You strain your ears to listen, your eyes boring into his. He blinks but holds your gaze. He frees his bottom lip and allows his jaw to hang open when he realises that you’re listening to his sounds. Armin doesn’t have to be quiet, he can loudly indulge in his pleasures so he does. Softly moaning your name with a goofy, lovestruck expression on his face even as he jerks his hips up to match your rhythm. 

“Does that feel good?” you ask, internally cringing as you wrack your brain for something to say. You wonder if you should stay silent, but words may be more comforting. 

Armin’s head bobs as he nods a bit too quickly, “Yes,” he moans as he digs his nails into the splintered wood of your table.

He uses his other hand to curl his fingers around your wrist, the one that wasn’t languidly working his cock. Armin squeezes your wrist too roughly like he forgets himself and his own strength, your brows crinkle in pain but it’s easily masked as a look of concentration. You don’t mind though, the pain reminds you that you’re alive, that this was real and not just the machinations of an overactive imagination. Armin shudders when you use your thumb to spread some of the precum gathered along the head of his cock down the shaft, allowing your hand to slide more smoothly.

Your name is  sweet on his tongue, the syllables roll off it in a way that makes you think it belongs there. Like Armin was meant to say your name like this for the rest of eternity. 

“I want to touch you too,” he pants, between wanton whimpers. The smooth silver of skin that he clings to isn’t enough, “I want you to feel good too.”

It’s difficult to say no to Armin when he asks so sweetly, “Okay,” you say, bringing your linked hands up to your mouth to press a kiss to the back of his hand, “Lay back for me, okay?”

Armin does as you ask without question like a dutiful dog obeys its owner. You hitch your legs over the edge of the table and settle atop of his thighs. Hiking the hem of your nightgown upward, you guide Armin’s hand between your legs to where your bare, wet pussy clenches in anticipation. Your cunt aches with need and your chest squeezes at the slight brush of his calloused fingers across your folds.

“Touch me here.”

“Like this?” he asks, curling his fingers to rub against your throbbing clit, a shiver rolls through your spine.

Cupping your hand over his, you encourage him to make a few small circles, “Mhm, just like that,” you shudder, your breath halting when the table creaks beneath your shared weight, “It feels good, Armin.”

Seeming satisfied with himself and the way his name melted past your lips, he replicates your movement. You feel feverish with need as the urge to burrow yourself within his sternum consumes you. It melds with the pinpricks of pleasure that dance inside your belly as your muscles tense. It’s a terrible fate– to be ensnared by Armin Arlert. You don’t believe his promises, no matter how saccharine. It’s devilish for him to touch you, you’ve decided. Like with your kisses, how were you meant to go on without Armin ever touching you like this again? But, you’ve learned to manage your expectations. Dreams were called dreams because they were never meant to be anything more than something to wish on as a child. Even if he did still love you, there was too much distance between what became of your life and what became of his. 

Pleasure burns your belly. It singes your insecurities but doesn’t snuff them out in their entirety. It’s just enough to chase them away and leave nothing but bliss in their wake. Your head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. Your chest heaves with haggard breaths, and your nightgown slips open to reveal the supple skin of your chest and your breasts to Armin. His gaze is respectful as he drinks in the sight. He moans to himself and marvels, it’s quite endearing. You like it, you don’t feel dirty or ashamed for your wanton ways, how could you when Armin drinks you in like you’re a perfectly crafted mountainside that has been crafted just for his admiration?

“Armin,” you sigh, “I need you inside of me.”

Wrapping your fingers around his cock, you slide the head between your dripping folds. Armin’s body wracks and his shoulders shake as he quivers with need. He moans your name once more, and you commit the sound to memory, for those cold and lonely nights that never seem to end. Your shoulders tense when you press the tip to your hole. It’s been a while, the stretch burns a bit. But, it’s nice. Your eyes roll back into your head and you curse under your breath. 

Armin slopes his hand around the nape of your neck, “Can I kiss you?” he all but moans, “I want to kiss you again.”

His rosy cheeks grow round when he offers you a bashful smile. You kiss him, your tongue and teeth clicking against one another as you sloppily move your mouth alongside his. You’ve never been much of a multitasker. It’s hard to focus on much else aside from the mind numbing pleasure that distracts you. He hasn’t stopped rolling your clit between his fingers and as he swallows up your moans with desperate, fevered kisses, you wonder if he’s enjoying how much of a mess he’s made of you. 

Your heart throbs in a funny sort of manner when you sink all the way down the length of his cock. The feeling of fullness spreads to the tips of your fingers all the way down to your toes. You hate how complete you feel, the fact that a small part of you wishes you could bottle the utter feeling of contentedness that warms you. The hunger and longing that lives inside of you never felt satiated, not once in the decade since it burrowed behind your lungs. Now though, they purr happily like a fat cat who’s had its fair share of the cream.

The taste of salt dabbles on your tongue, “Why are you crying?” Armin asks, his voice laced with concern, “Is something wrong, does it hurt?”

Swiping your fingers across the top of your cheekbones you confirm that those are your tears and not his. They spill past your lash line and there is nothing you can do to stop them. You don’t feel sad, even with the mess in your head you know that much. You sputter for a moment, desperately searching his face for an answer but nothing comes.

“I’m just so happy,” you say though you’re unsure where those words come from but they flow freely before you can stop them just like your tears, “I like being this close to you, I want to stay this close to you.”

Forever.

That’s the word that should complete your sentence. You keep it clutched to your chest where it’ll remain safe so long as you’re vigilant.

You knock your hips forward to silence whatever endeared sentiment Armin is about to form. His brows press together in concentration. He’s nearing his end, you can feel it in the way he throbs inside of you. Your tears are gently wiped by rough hands, you hardly register them. It’s difficult to focus on much as he plays with your clit and dutifully matches each flick of your hips. He’s a quick learner, he always has been. You wonder if he’s storing your reactions and sounds for later so that if there was a next time, he’d do exactly what you’d like without instruction. The end nears for you too, it lingers amongst the obnoxious groans from your table as you rock your hips. The sounds of skin bare slapping marry your shared, debauched whines. They’ll haunt your walls tomorrow and the next. 

They haunt you right now.

You didn’t think you were capable of feeling so serene, but you do. You’re untouchable as you chase your release. It lays in the palm of Armin’s hands. You’ll eat straight from them if you have to. The coil in your stomach tightens for a moment and your breathing becomes staggered. Armin is no better, he sputters small half breaths between needy whines of your name. His forehead rests on your shoulder, and his sweat dabbled hair sticks to you. Strands of your hair cling to the nape of your neck too. The cool breeze that slithers across your house makes your heated skin break out with goosebumps. It doesn’t bother you though, nothing could bother you now.

“I love you,” Armin whispers into your skin as he cums, holding your body close to his.

A few more tears well up as your orgasm washes through you. Your thighs shake and you struggle to bring your arms around his torso. His tight embrace makes up for it as they lay limply by your side. Your flush skin is peppered with affectionate kisses and his nose is nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You feel loved, you haven’t felt it in a while but it felt similar to this. The earnest way he embraces you without a second thought is imbued with love. Lifting your tired arms, you curl them around his body. Your nails dig into the hardened flesh of his back. They leave a few crescent moons to join the myriad of battle scars and freckles that have returned to him.

‘“I love you too.”

You wish you could say it was true for the moment but it’s not. It was true because you did love him, you loved him in a way you weren’t sure you were capable of loving anyone else. If Ymir the Founder had left her people with anyone before erasing herself and her titan kin from existence, you think it might have been eternal love. The kind that wasn’t possible of fading, even when you didn’t understand why.

Hours pass and you find yourself in your bed once more, on the edge of waking and sleep you register the lack of sunlight. You don’t remember exactly how you made your way upstairs but you do remember two strong arms holding you close as you allowed slumber to cradle your tired mind in its embrace. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your blanket is tucked snugly beneath your chin.

There’s a letter on your bedside table and a glass of water. You make out the letters of your name and the promise of return but you choose not to read any further. Laying in silence you wonder if she’s still out there, your creator, the founder. If she was, you hoped she would listen to your pleas. You were strong, but you weren’t strong enough to spend the rest of your life waiting on a lost life whose remains had long since returned to the dirt and earth.

You prayed that the Jägerist’s stupidity would fall deaf to Queen Historia’s ears and that when you awoke next, there’d still be a head of blond hair next to you with long pretty eyelashes and rosy cheeks that told all his secrets. 

He was too far entangled in your rib cage. You were far too comfortably curled around his aorta. Armin may be able to withstand it but you weren’t. After all this time, you really hoped you could be happy. Even with all the strangeness that came from estrangement, you felt more alive with Armin than you had in all the years of living in Shiganshina. It was a shell of its former self, with the ghosts of yesterday's past filling all the nooks and crannies. You too easily allowed yourself to become one of them, the ghosts but you didn’t half to be a ghost, you could want things just the same as Armin could.

And you wanted him to come back to you so the two of you could experience that future he was talking about.

Mr. Arlert did not raise a liar or a man who’d break promises. Your chances were good. You could be happy. All the lost parts of you could return and maybe you’d feel whole again, and maybe you’d welcome the warmth of the sun on your skin the same way you welcomed Armin back into your life. 

You deserved some ounce of happiness too. 

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

[todoroki-sweetheart]

“Minors dni” [writes nsfw about minors]

Okay, so normally I wouldn’t address stuff like this, but it’s come to my attention that a lot of fanfic writers are having to deal with this.

And let me tell you this, I started writing fanfiction when I was 17 years old. When I started, all the characters I wrote for were age-appropriate or older than me.

Now, let me remind you that every single character I have written about is canonically now grown up. In Attack On Titan, Haikyuu!!, and My Hero Academia mangas they are now beyond LEGAL ages!!

Not to mention that in all of my fics they are aged up anyways, so here is also your daily reminder:

It is not the authors fault that we outgrow the people we write about. You can be the same age as these characters and write about them, but the difference is that you will grow up, they will not!! They will forever be the age that their author writes them to be (which in my case, is still LEGAL!), and there is nothing we can do about that even if at one point we were the same age. Real life will move on and most of the time authors will age these characters up as they age. It is not our fault they are frozen in time because everything we write for is strictly FICTION, meaning it is NOT REAL, nonnie. These people don’t exist, and all we’re trying to do is have fun and supply content to others who love these fandoms as much as we do.

So please, if you wouldn’t mind, get your head out of your fucking ass and save these dumbass comments for someone else. Or better yet, just stop harassing people that are only trying to have fun and love their favorite characters.

Thanks 🙂

(I’m adding tags so other people that have concerns/a similar mindset about this can see it)

[lotus-n-l0ve]

YANDERE!LEVI ACKERMAN HEADCANONS

— Levi Ackerman x Scout!Female Reader

Even If It's A Little Dangerous, I'm Really Sweet.

*⁠.✧ SYNOPSIS : You joined the survay corps to protect your loved ones but you didn't know that you would become the obsession of Levi Ackerman.

*⁠.⁠✧ WARNINGS & TAGS : Yandere theme, Yandere!Levi, dub-con, slight smut, masterbating, vulgar language, 412 words.

*⁠.⁠✧ NOTE FROM LOTUS : Reposting cause the amount of mistakes in that one has my BP high.

*⁠.⁠✧ — NAVIGATION // ATTACK ON TITAN MASTERLIST

DON'T PRESS [KEEP READING] IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE. MINORS DNI, IF YOU DO THEN IT'S YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY.

Yandere!Levi, who saw you for the first time after you joined the Survey Corps and instantly became obsessed with you. You were a new soldier and still not completely aware of the danger lurking outside of the walls as well as inside of the walls. So as your senior and captain it was his duty to protect you. And your innocence.

Yandere!Levi, who deliberately leaves you pairless in any pairing training so you would have no choice but train with him because he didn't like anyone's dirty hands on your precious and pure body. They were only reserved for him.

Yandere!Levi, who once caught a scout member flirting with you and from then on he was never seen before someone found him lying in a dried well. His face distorted, all bones broken, body bloodied.

Yandere!Levi, who always has eyes on you, whether you are training, eating or sleeping. He has specially made a duplicate key to your room. Late at night when everyone is sleeping he silently sneaks into your room. Sitting by your side he adores your face and runs his hand through your hair and skin.

Yandere!Levi, who goes through your personal belongings. Your bags, suitcases and clothes till he comes across the bag filled your underwear. He would pick his favourite one of them and sit on a chair facing you.

Yandere!Levi, who wraps your underwear around his girth and starts pumping in it. His eyes staring at your sleeping defenceless figure, imagining his hand to be your pussy.

Yandere!Levi, who wonders if he should just fuck you instead. Surely you would not deny him right? He could make you feel so good that you would want to be with him yourself. No other man can please you like he would.

Yandere!Levi, who quickly shakes off those thoughts before he gets too deep and really does something that can ruin your future relation with him. For now the underwear will do.

Yandere!Levi, who quickened his pace when he neared his release. Whispering nonchalant words "fuck fuck fuck—baby" "just like that" "you take me soo good" and within seconds he cums in your panty.

Yandere!Levi, who after that sneaks out of your room just as silently. Your cum smeared panty tucked in his pocket which he used to cum three more times that night before adding them to the collection of all the other panties he had stolen before.

LIKED IT? THEN PLEASE LEAVE A LIKE, REBLOG & COMMENT. IT WOULD MEAN A LOT AND FOLLOW ME FOR MORE LIKE THESE. THANK YOU ♡

© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarise any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part three.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, edging, pet names, sex toys, multiple orgasms, mentions of body image Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. / part four. | masterlist

“Hel-lo, is the idiot in the room still with us?”

A slender hand waves back and forth, back and forth, until you awake from your everlasting daydream.

Annie Leonhart sits across from you at your favorite coffee shop looking like the cat that caught the canary.

That knowing smirk hasn’t left her face since she sat down.

Curling her fingers, she pulls her arm and returns her hand to join the other under her chin once she’s finally caught your attention.

The small blonde squints her icy blue eyes, observing, deciding on what you’ll say before you launch your defense.

“That good, huh?”

Embarrassment is your first folly.

"I— What?!”

“I know a blissful climax cloud when I see one.”

“Annie.”

Sometimes Annie could be an ass, too smug for her own good, but she was a fiercely loyal friend and colleague.

Everything is meant in jest — at least, to you. Not many others got to avoid her wrath.

You lean over the table, reaching your hand out to cover her mouth.

She manages to duck your advances, expertly so, and rears her head with a small chuckle.

“Relax, no one’s listening,” she chides.

“That’s not true,” you argue under your breath. “It's a small shop. You know the vultures circle this place.”

“Not since the old thirsties got busted for their smutty book club — which, quite frankly, I resent losing.”

"You resent?" you repeat, mirroring her squint. “But you never ended up joining the old lady book club.”

“Mm, I didn’t,” Annie agrees, picking up her coffee cup to sip leisurely. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. I looked up a couple of those titles for myself. In retrospect, they had good taste.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead.”

She pauses, setting the cup back on the table.

“So… are you going to make me work for the details, or what?” she finally leads, getting to the point while you skate around it with imaginary triple axels. “Did you call again after Friday?”

You did.

In fact, you've called several times — almost every night since last Friday with the exception of Tuesday, since you’d fallen asleep as soon as you hit the couch after working overtime.

It’s now another Friday afternoon, one week from the first time you’d called the hotline, and you’re wondering what constitutes bordering on addiction.

“I have,” you confirm. 

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she chastises with a grimace. “Boo — tomato, tomato.”

“What?! What did you want me to say?”

“For starters, who the guy is.”

“Not happening.”

“Loser.” A beat passes. “But it’s not Bert?”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Definitely not Bert.”

“Thank god,” she exhales. “I like you, but I don’t know if I like you enough to be calling up the same dude to get our rocks off.”

“Jesus, Annie.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.”

You pick up your own tea, sliding it across the table before taking a tentative sip.

“I don’t know how you freely talk about this like we’re trying out restaurants.”

“Because it’s not real?” she suggests, and your stomach flip-flops. 

You know it isn’t. 

It’s a job.

It’s his job.

“I don’t know,” Annie continues, sitting back against her chair with her arm draped across the curve. “It’s no strings attached and hot. I’ll never meet Bert, and he’ll never meet me, and it isn’t like he’s going to ask to hold my hand and beg me to meet his mom.”

“You’re such a commitment-phobe,” you comment with the roll of your eyes. “You won’t ever meet anyone’s mom.”

“Yeah, because I’m not a psycho,” she replies with a snort. “I take it you went premium?”

You nod once. “Levi suggested it.”

Her eyes widen, delighted, and you scowl at your own stupidity.

“Levi?”

Ah.

Fuck.

"Wait." You sit up taller. “Don’t—”

“Oh, that’s a hot name.”

“Annie, I swear to—”

She sours to herself. “Damn, that’s so much hotter than moaning Bert.”

The tea in your cup bubbles from your chortled breath. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, not my favorite name ever, but that’s fine — because it’s more like he’s moaning Annie.”

Paired with a wicked grin, your friend winks at you.

“We have two very different wants.”

You squint, and her grin widens. “Wait, do you—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my god, Annie.”

“What?!” she chirps with a chuckle. “You like the bossy ones, I like being the boss. You’re not allowed to kink shame me. We’re in this shit together.”

“Who said I like being bossed around?!”

She points her finger at your facedown phone.

“Porco Galliard bosses people around. I’m not stupid. And you scream ‘I don’t like being assertive’.”

Great.

The same observation Levi made over the phone without ever meeting you in person.

“Whatever, that isn’t the point,” you wave off, deciding to try and swerve the subject. “I wanted to ask: how many times do you call a week?”

Annie presses the tip of her tongue against her cheek as she considers.

“A week? Maybe two, three at most. It used to be a hell of a lot more, but I’m working a lot of late nights.”

“When you say ‘a hell of a lot more’, do you mean—?”

“Daily?” she finishes for you then tries to recall. “Why? Are you daily right now?” 

You hate yourself for a second. 

“Sort of? It’s only been a few days, but—”

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She reassures in that randomly serious way Annie can pull on a rare occasion.

Making fun of people might be her favorite pastime, but if she can sense true withdrawal from her friends, then she’s quick to stop. 

The blonde reaches over the table to pat your hand, but it’s hardly a comfort.

Annie is about as comforting as raw-dog wearing a hand-knitted sweater by an amateur: it's itchy, too tight, and you want it to stop immediately. 

“You’re a grown woman with grown woman money. If guys can go get blue balled at the strip club, then why can’t we call a hot guy over the phone?”

Again: not comforting at all.

With reluctance, you nod.

“You have a point.”

“I know I have a point.”

“Then again, I don’t know how long term this fix can be,” you reason. “It’s very expensive.”

“Yeah, but you know what’s more expensive?” Annie retorts. “Hooking up with a stranger at a bar who’s abysmal in bed. Maybe not so much for your wallet, but definitely for your ego.”

“And your sanity,” you agree, “if they’re weird.”

“Or a creep.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“A weird creep that happens to be a serial killer.”

You both give each other a look, an unspoken conversation of two delusional women saying ‘exactly’ in a singular gesture, as you sync the sips of your drinks.

.

.

— —

.

.

  “Do you ever — ha — use to — oh — ys?”

You’re not sure why you’re so chatty with your rabbit vibrator barely hovering over the hood of your clit.

A week ago, you would've been trying to smother yourself with a pillow for talking.

However, with each night you’ve called Levi, the more comfortable you’ve become.

More bold, if openly using toys tells him anything.

The avalanche that brought you here was quite swift.

Traffic lights no longer remind you of the cars on the road but the man waiting for you on this hotline.

A willing striptease; a compliance to do what you wish but let him take the lead.

All you had to say was ‘my hand’s getting tired’ during an edging session.

All Levi had to reply with was ‘if you had a toy, I’d allow you to tag it in’.

Allow.

Like you’re completely under his spell.

Like you couldn’t have been using one from the get-go, but you listened.

You said you did.

He said grab it.

(God, you always listen.)

Now you’re here, legs spread in the center of your bed with your phone sitting between the valley of your breasts as you talk to him through the speaker.

“I am right now,” Levi replies in that diplomatic way of his, the lift of his voice telling: he’s amused by the way you try to speak to him, even when you’re ready to scream with impatience.

“I meant on yourself,” you exhale shakily.

“On myself?”

“Like on c-calls,” you stammer, forcing yourself to focus.

He loves when you lose your mind.

You refuse to cave so fast tonight.

“A mystery for another day,” he teases, before adding in a firmer tone: “You earned it. Touch it to your clit, but don’t go inside yet. I want you wet and ready for me, understand?”

“You’re so mean.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he softens for just a moment. “And don’t talk back.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you joke, before pressing the device against your clit.

The vibrations surge pleasure down your legs, causing your toes to curl.

You’re not sure if it’s the ‘sir’ or the moan you emit that makes him groan in return.

“The answer is no,” he finally states.

For a second, you think you did something wrong.

Then you circle back, remembering what you asked in the first place.

Right.

The toys question.

“You don’t?”

“Not on me, no.” He exhales, slow and steady. “Too busy making sure I’m hitting the script.”

That’s the funny thing about these calls:

The fourth wall? 

Broken.

He doesn’t pretend to be your boyfriend for the night, just as you don’t pretend he’s only yours.

You’re aware he’s a sex worker, just as he seems to open up about his profession when speaking to you.

At first Levi wouldn’t — it was meant to be a fantasy — but each night he’s divulged more.

Like how he used to be in the military. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he has an affinity for tea, going so far as to have a mild cup with you after a session in lieu of a cigarette. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he’s a Capricorn. (Unrelated to sex — kind of.)

In the midst of learning about him, you’ve learned about yourself.

You’re less vanilla than you originally thought.

With Porco, things felt regimented.

Scheduled.

You weren’t willing to open up your heart, much less your legs, because he was too cold behind closed doors.

Focused.

Driven to his work and passions.

Levi, on the other hand, will suggest leaning against the wall with your hand in your underwear, eyes forced to watch yourself in your full-length mirror.

To worship yourself, when he can’t.

To pump your fingers into your weeping core, when he can’t.

To give over complete and utter control with the promise that you’ll come as many times as he asks you to, because if he could be in this very room — this very apartment — he’d easily do it himself.

With Levi, you’re bold.

With Levi, you’re in.

So you’re not shy to arch your back, moaning into the receiver when you feel your first orgasm approaching you like the incoming tide.

“Levi,” you whimper his name, “can I—”

“Shit, baby, you know you can,” he practically purrs, already knowing what you’re going to ask. “C’mon. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours, huh? Just for me?”

“Just for—”

The last word is garbled by the way your teeth clench, legs snapping together as the first climax hits after a relentless twenty-minute edging session.

It’s unreal.

It’s pain.

It’s bliss.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

(Freedom.)

You pant, pulling the vibrator away from your body for a moment to catch your breath.

You hear him hum with approval on the other end, a low rumble against your chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he says after a beat. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” you confess breathlessly.

“You sound better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“Oh shut up,” you scowl before laughing.

Turning off the toy for a momentary reprieve, you allow yourself to catch your breath as you grin up at the ceiling.

“Always so goddamn modest.”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffs, shifting on the other end of the line. “Can’t take a damn compliment to save your life.”

You make a face like he can see you in the dark, but you decide to continue the conversation.

That’s a new thing the two of you have picked up — talking.

Lots of talking.

You get off, sure, but he knows your work drama, your chore schedule — your mailmen even have the same first name, funnily enough.

“I’m serious, though,” you exhale. “Do you ever like… get off? Without toys, obviously.”

“During a call?” he clarifies, and you nod. He answers like he can see it. “No, not — not typically.”

“Wow, so you’ve faked an orgasm with me,” you tease with a blissed out snort. “Shame, shame, I know your name.”

“I what?”

“Faked it,” you clarify, fluffing your pillows behind your head as you situate yourself on your bed. “As if I don’t hear you breathing all heavy and shit over there.”

Then something unusual happens.

The man grows quiet on the other side. 

Nothing shuffles.

No huffs or ‘tchs’.

Just… silence.

“Levi?” you ask, brows knit.

A beat passes, but he answers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good over there?”

“I— yeah, fine,” he clears his throat.

Uh-oh.

You frown immediately, blinking twice. “Sorry, was that a weird question?”

“Not at all,” he clarifies, gruff this time, “just… I said not typically, not never.”

…oh.

Oh.

Suddenly you abandon the rabbit and sit up in bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Wait.”

“Scarlet.”

“No, did you actually—”

“I already said too much.”

“No, wait, you can’t just imply that you’ve gotten off with me then abandon ship here, Levi!”

“I’m not abandoning ship — why do you say such weird shit sometimes?”

“How many times?!” you yelp.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Holy shit,” you exhale, “I’m so mad I didn’t pay attention.”

It’s like you can hear Levi squinting, narrowing his eyes with uncertainty on the other end of the phone. “...why would you be mad?”

“Because maybe I want to hear you get off, too?” you suggest simply.

Another agonizing breath of silence.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you place your phone on your sheets and pick up the vibrator, contemplating your next move.

“Because I would totally love to just… I don’t know, make you moan, too? See what you taste like? Feel you lose control, pull my hair, hold my head down while I wrap my lips around—”

“Baby.”

Two syllables shoot out of his mouth, as if overwhelmed with shock.

Huh.

An Uno reverse in your favor.

You’re no Shakespeare, but what you say is as honest as words can possibly be.

“I picture you all the time,” you confess softly, pressing the rabbit vibrator’s first function.

A low rumble begins, and you guide it between your legs.

You’re already soaked from your session.

There will be little give to the toy.

“When we’re not on the phone together, I wonder what it would be like. I could be at work. I could be at a coffee shop. Like, holy shit, I was meeting with a friend today and all I could think of is how badly I’d love to just take you to it — maybe disappear in the back hall, find a bathroom? I’d bend over a sink. I don’t wear skirts all the time, but I’d wear one for you.”

You hear shifting on the other end of the line, but Levi is deathly silent.

Mindlessly, your hand takes hold of the vibrator and you press against your entrance.

With a tiny whimper, you push in, deliciously enveloped in a sea of vibrations.

“You wouldn’t need to wear a skirt.”

Suddenly his voice appears, and you accidentally push the vibrator further in, causing a strangled moan to exit your mouth. 

“Le—”

“Pants are just as easy,” Levi cuts you off, a thread of a whisper. “Couldn’t take that much effort. Wouldn’t give a shit if anyone saw your damn clothes at your ankles.”

Suddenly the room burns.

“I just know you’d fill me up so good,” you whine, and there’s a sharp hiss on the other end.

“Jesus Christ.”

There.

You hear it: the waver in his voice.

“Yeah, baby,” he concedes. “I’d fill you so fucking good.”

You whimper, a pathetic little noise at the base of your throat, and he exhales a large breath — as if he’s been holding back this entire time.

“Promise?”

“When have I ever led you astray?” he challenges, a bit more strained now.

It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” you breathe, ragged and wrecked, and there’s a small groan on the other end of the line.

“You already do, baby.”

“Not how I want to,” you argue in return, body pulsating with the growing need to release a second. “You’re so good at making me cum, but all I want is to take it how you want me — bend me over and fill me up, push me to my knees and stick my tongue out—”

“Fuck,” he curses sharply. “You’re so good for me. So, so fucking good, not fuckin’ fair.”

“Wanna cum with you.”

He groans, louder this time, and inhales the most deliciously jagged breath you’ve ever heard.

“Right there, baby,” he forces out. “C’mon. Give me one more. Just one more.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You purposefully bite your tongue when you come a second time, squeezing your eyes shut with all of your senses focused solely on your ears.

A grunt, as if he’s holding back just the same before exhaling, slow and languid.

In your mind’s eye, you see it: how he uses his teeth to hold up his t-shirt, painting his abdomen with streaks of white as he holds himself back from climaxing too loud. His whole body trembles. He squeezes the tip, milking himself for all he’s worth.

Pulling the vibrator from your body, you turn it off and toss it elsewhere on your bed. Your body curls around your phone, trying to stay quiet so you can listen.

Shaky.

Exhausted.

Not typically, not never.

You say nothing, can’t, but a small giggle of euphoria emits from your throat.

Surprisingly, Levi chuckles back with that drugged slowness that comes with exhaustion.

“You’re too damn giddy after two orgasms,” he chastises, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Uh-huh, Huff ‘n Puff,” you tease right back, and he tsk’s right against the phone.

And in your heart, you know—

Know you’re in deep shit.

Know that you like Levi, even if it’s impossible to like a stranger.

Maybe when you get this month’s credit card bill, you’ll sober up from your crush.

But not right now.

Just not right now.

.

.

— —

.

.

  The next morning, you’re up bright and early.

Skip the elevator to the apartment lobby.

Walk down the stairs to kickstart your adrenaline.

Skip the coffee at the local shop.

Choose a small cup of chai instead.

By the time you make it to the gym, you’re more ready than you ever have been in your life to take on the day.

.

.

— —

.

.

  Forty-five minutes later, your sweat even has sweat.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, the endorphins from a tough workout only make you feel that more excited to get your shit together. To be more mindful of your time.

(Totally not because your last call with Levi was unreal. Nope.)

Overall, you went from hating your life to — well, this.

Whatever this is.

Owning your self agency and worth after a pitiful breakup?

Unfortunately joining this gym had been Porco’s idea — he’s a treadmill hamster, and you got swindled by the sea of abs under his tank tops.

A ‘couples activity’, whatever that meant.

(Being sweaty and tired without an orgasm to finish it off never did feel rewarding.)

After the breakup you considered trying to get out of your 6-month contract, but Porco dipped first.

He joined Pieck’s crossfit endeavor somewhere else in the city, leaving you and this dingy little gym to commiserate together.

Now?

Now, you excitedly get ready in the morning to the gym — not to get thin or look a certain way to appease anyone else. A revenge body is bonafide stupid.

No — you don’t want to be anything but stronger.

Because Levi would probably think it was hot if you were stronger.

Maybe the next time you call, he’ll be impressed that you’ve taken to strength training. 

Maybe he’ll give you some pointers — one more topic of conversation to be had.

Setting down the free weights back on the rack after a thorough cleaning of the equipment, you step out of the way of the other regulars gearing up for their workout and head towards the locker rooms to shower.

In the small pocket of your leggings, you hear your phone vibrate. 

Digging your hand in to fish it out, you see a familiar name on your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Yo [A. LEONHART]: We’re all going out Tuesday for drinks – u in?

All.

All means the department.

All might mean Porco and Pieck.

Annie must sense your apprehension, before adding:

[A. LEONHART]: Porky probs not going, Pieck’s got a family thing

 

Well, that’s two positives.

[ME]: I’ll think about it. [A. LEONHART]: Think about it????

[A. LEONHART]: 🍅🍅🍅

Her and her fucking tomatoes.

You snort and begin to write back—

But not before accidentally slamming chest to chest into a stranger.

The phone flies out of your hand like a bar of wet soap.

Like a Scooby Doo short, it alley-oops to the sky then smashes down against the black-speckled rubber gym floor.

Before you can even react, the person you’d bumped into is bending to crouch on the floor.

“Shit. My fault.”

Every cell in your body freezes.

Time ceases to exist.

They scoop your phone into their hand, flipping it over checking for damage. 

Luckily, the screen is intact. 

No fall damage.

But that isn’t why you’re frozen.

As they rise to full stance, your eyes are still downcast. 

From their sneakers your eyes crawl up, up, up — noticing the basketball shorts that cut just above the knee with compression under armor peeking beneath.

On his torso is an emerald green tank top, clinging to his flexing abs, the fabric speckled with sweat. 

His collarbones are defined; chin just as sharp as his cheekbones.

Then you meet his eyes.

A blue-ish gray.

The man standing before you runs on the shorter side — under average height for a man.

His ebony hair dangles and sticks to his sweat-slicked forehead, the ends pointed and shaggy.

It takes a moment until you realize you’ve seen that hair before.

While you’ve taken to walking on the treadmill for your warm-up these last several weeks, he’s typically nestled in the strength training corner of the gym alone. 

Every morning that you’re here, he is also here diligently working on his physique.

He’s always in some squat position or lying on a bench, so you never paid attention to his face—

He’s fucking gorgeous.

“Looks like it’s fine,” he says casually, and your stomach falls out of your ass.

Baritone.

Smooth like honey, low like a rumble.

There’s no way.

There is absolutely no way it’s—

“Here.”

The man holds your phone out for you, brows knitting curiously. 

You can’t speak. 

Hell, you can barely breathe.

He shakes his hand to wake you from your shock.

“Take it.”

You know that voice like the back of your hand.

Wordlessly, you reach a shaky hand towards the phone to take it back.

You part your lips to speak, but no words exit.

All you can do is grasp your phone and pull it to your chest as you catch the scent of his deodorant with a mixture of musk when he passes by, none the wiser.

By the time you turn to say something, anything—

Levi from Scout Services Hotline dips into the men’s locker room.

.

Author's Note:

...oops.

Thank you for reading part three of P4! I continue to be blown away by the response. Because of your encouragement, I wrote one of the fastest updates I've made in ages. How are we feeling now? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

[xanaxspritz]

read me!!

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎ

hello im nami! i'm black, 24 and i write fanfic. i use she/her pronouns. my current fandom is jujutsu kaisen, but i like attack on titan, yuri on ice!, fire emblem and a lot more weeb adjacent media. ask box is always open ♡

im a pisces ♓︎. i also love art and cats 🐈‍⬛

this is a 18+ nsfw blog. minors DNI.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˋˏ ♡

AO3

headcanon series: toji, gojo, geto, professor!nanami how each jjk man cums

gojo

gojo's big dick

geto

geto loves eating you out,

nanami

making a movie, teasing nanami, perv!nanami, perv!nanami pt.2 stepdad!nanami (cw:stepcest)

choso

taking his virginity, breast infatuation, lactation kink, coffee date

toji

fucking your bf's dad pillowprincess!reader

sukuna

breeding you with 2 dicks, soft!kuna

✨more to come✨

[juicezone]

Hi! I'm TL, and I do agere/petre art requests! You can find my queue and open status on my header! Please read the rules below, thank you! It helps to reblog this to spread it around :D

you must obey the dni of this account. especially please do not request or reblog if you are k!nk, nsfw, generally not safe for kids. you will be blocked.

If reqs are closed, you may DM me and ask me to send you a message/heads up when I re-open then!

please be kind when asking :) these are not commissions, i am not required to do them!

if your request is something i’m not comfortable with doing, i’ll priv answer so you have the option of sending another if you’d like! (this is easiest to do if you're not on anon/you leave an @ of your sideblog! If it's a nameless anon, it's likely to just be deleted, sorry ^^'

please put separate requests in separate asks! IE: if you ask for Character from Fandom A and character from Fandon B, please send two asks! (Unless you want them together which is fine :P)

not a rule but feel free to give suggestions! IE: “Can you draw character with a green paci” or “can you draw character as a fox pet-regressor?” or “can you draw character and character as cg + regressor?” "character in a dip" (just make sure to specify who is who!) Honestly, detail helps a lot with being able to draw and do the req!! (NEW 4/28) I will draw stuff like characters being upset, crying, ect. I'll draw characters in dips but atm i'm not necessarily comfortable drawing accidents themselves (unfortunately, i had a problem with one post i made + deleted being basically immediately snapped up by unsavory blogs ): so)

I’d prefer to not draw your persona/sona/ect! I don’t mind drawing in a “blank/YN” type character, but I no longer would like to draw personas/sonas/ect. Sorry! (NOTE: THIS IS EXEMPT FOR FRIENDS LET ME DRAW YOUR AGERE OCS/INSERT SO BAD)

Requests may take a while! I work 30-40 hrs a week on top of being a full time student. I might get it done immediately, it might get done in three months or longer. Usually I do them in order, but not always! If you come into my inbox and repeatedly ask abt it (esp if ur rude) i will delete it. and i will block you.

FANDOMS I'LL DO

I'll do most any media! It's REALLY best to just ask me!! Bluey, MCYT (characters ONLY. *), Star Trek, Pokemon, FNAF, Warrior Cats, Nintendo, Disney - Honestly, it's best to just ask! As long as the media isn't primarily NSFW in the 18+ way, I probably don't mind! Complex chars like in Genshin Impact are fine as long as you're okay with me simplifying/putting them in different clothes (free free to request them in diff clothes even!!)

*Will not do dsmp at this time. May do people related to DSMP (ie philza for ex [i think? i dont know the people of that group]) but i will not do: Wilbur/soot or d/ream.

FANDOMS I WON'T DO

Harry Potter, Hetalia, IRL People (as in the Content Creator - see below for more detail), Attack on Titan, Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss, Country humans/Country balls/Anything based off the countries, Rick and Morty TBA

ABOUT IRL PEOPLE

Will do: MCYT for example! Because my design is based off their MC skin. It's like actors v their characters if that makes sense Won't do: Things like Sanders Side or Marki/plier ego stuff, because it's like. there's nothing there for referencing other than the literal person. idk its hard to explain TLDR: thats just my comfort level sorry ^^''

[lolahauri]

✎ Introduction ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Requests are always open, and you can send as many as you want, as detailed as you want! I just get to them whenever i can/feel like it.

Anon's: 🌹-🕯️-🍁-❤️-

Other Accounts: @lolas-favfics @lolamultifandom @lolahaurisfw

AO3: Here

-> MASTERLIST <-

DNI: MAP, ZOO, Pro-Para, Pro-Ana, TERF, Zionist, Bigots, Minors!!!, Discourse Blogs. ❤️🖤🤍💚

Things I Won't Write:

Sex Crimes of ANY KIND, Super Violent/Xtreme Kinks, Inflation, Feederism, Abuse, Puke, Shit, DDLG, Age Play, Raceplay, Wound Fucking, Gore, Vore, Misgendering, Stepcest etc... no exceptions!

Fluff, Angst, Platonic. (Go to my other fanfic blog for that.)

Things I Will Write:

Mild Yandere, Daddy/Mommy Kink, Cheating, Mild BDSM, CNC, Dubcon, Monsters, Hybrids, Sex Pollen, Legal Age Gap, Power Imbalance (Prof/Student, Boss/Employee), Feet, Armpits, Piss, Breeding, Mild Bloodplay & Knifeplay, Cock Warming, Dry Humping, Voyeur, Public Sex, Orgy, 3somes, Sex Toys, Overstim, Edging, etc... etc... :P

*if you aren't sure, just ask!* :)

HC's, One Shots, Multi-Chapter, Drabbles, F/O Imagines.

Canon-friendly, AU's, Canon Divergence, Out of Character.

Ch x Ch / Ch x Reader / Ch x OC / OC x Reader / Poly Ships of any kind.

F/F, M/M, F/M, GN/F, GN/M, Poly Ships of any kind.

Now that that's out of the way, here's the list of fandoms and characters i'm familiar with and will happily take requests on! (you can request other characters from these fandoms, but it might take me longer!)

FNAF Movie: Vanessa, Mike, William/Steve. Turning Red: Ming Lee, Jin Lee. YOU: Joe, Love, Beck, Peach. Encanto: Isabela, Bruno, Dolores, Julieta. Regular Show: Mordecai, Margret, Eileen, CJ, Benson. (Human Ver) Attack on Titan: Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Sasha, Levi, Hanji, Annie, Historia, Reiner, Erwin. BNA: Michiru, Shirou. Stardew Valley: All Adult Humans. (Including SDVE & RSV) Total Drama: All season 1 contestants, Chris, Chef, Blainley. SheRa: All Adults (Except Rogelio) King Of The Hill: Hank, Peggy, Luanne, Nancy, Dale, John Redcorn, Kahn, Min. Shameless: Lip, Fiona, Kev, V, Tony. Riverdale: FP Jones, Jughead, Veronica, Hiram, Betty. Creepypasta: Ben, Jeff, Jane, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Slenderman, Masky, Hoodie, Toby, Nina, Clockwork, Splendorman, Kate. Gravity Falls: Stan, Ford, Soos, Giffany Steven Universe: Jasper, Amethyst, Blue Diamond, Peridot, Lapis, Garnet, Rose, Bismuth, Greg. Adventure Time/Fiona and Cake: Princess Bubblegum, Marceline, Marshall Lee, Winter King, Candy Queen, Simon, Ice King, Fiona. COD: Konig, Ghost, Mace, Keegan, Krueger, Valeria. Desperate Housewives: Bree, Gabby, Edie, Mike, Lynette. DC: Batman, Harley, Joker, Ivy, Lex Luthor (Jesse Eisenburg). Slashers & DBD: Brahms, Ghostface (general), Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees, Pyramid Head, The Spirit, Wraith, Huntress, Trapper, The Trickster, Pearl, Carrie White, Jennifer Check, Stu Matcher, Billy Loomis, Tiffany Valentine, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Eric Draven. Nintendo: Link, Zelda, Peach, Daisy, Rosalina, Luigi, Waluigi, Bowser. Squid Games: Gi-Hun, Sae-Byeok, Ali, Sang Woo. Rick and Morty: Rick, Beth, Jerry. Stranger Things: Robin, Billy, Eddie, Chrissy, Hopper. Bee & Puppycat: Bee, Deckard, Cass, Toast. Princess & The Frog: Shadow Man, Tiana, Lottie, Naveen. Ratatouille: Collette, Linguini. The Nanny: CC, Fran, Maxwell. Full House: Danny, Jesse, Joey. BigBang Theory: Raj, Leonard, Amy, Penny. Spiderverse: Miguel, Jessica Drew. Black Dynamite: Honeybee, Black Dynamite. Breaking Bad: Skylar, Jesse, Walter. National Treasure: Benjamin Gates, Riley Poole. Superstore: Jonah, Amy, Dina. Spongebob: Man Ray, Dennis. Tangeled: Flynn, Rapunzel, Mother Gothell. Lisa Frankenstein: Lisa, Creature, Taffy. Jane the Virgin: Jane, Micheal, Rogelio, Petra, Xiomara, Rose, Luisa. Young Sheldon: Mary, Connie. Twilight: Edward, Carlisle, Alice, Charlie. Scott Pilgrim vs The World: Kim, Gideon, Ramona, Wallace. American Animals: Evan Peters (Warren), Barry Keoghan (Spencer). The Batman (2022): Batman, Riddler. Little Mermaid (2023): Ariel, Eric. Bob's Burgers: Linda, Bob. Avatar: Jake, Neytiri. Frozen: Elsa, Anna, Kristoff.My Hero Academia: Dabi, Hawks, Aizawa. Futurama: Leela, Amy, Fry, Bender. Earth Girls Are Easy: Mac, Wiploc, Zeebo, Valerie. Supernatural: Dean, Sam, Castiel.

Sherlock (2010): Sherlock Holmes, John Watson. Silverado: Slick, Rae, Mal, Paden.

Nani Palekai (Lilo & Stitch) Paul Cable (Last Stand at Saber River) Peter Mitchell (3 Men & A Baby) Randy Marsh (South Park) Charles Ingalls (Little House on the Prairie) Master Chief (Halo) Ian Hawke (Alvin & The Chipmunks) Poe Dameron (Star Wars: The Force Awakens) Linda Gunderson (Rio) Bruce (Beyond Therapy) Jack Harrison (Transylvania 6-5000) Peggy Bundy (Married… With Children) Kitten (Breakfast on Pluto) Scarecrow (Batman Begins) John Wick (John Wick 4) David Levinson (Independence Day) Jackson Rippner (Red Eye)Mike (5lbs of Pressure) Santa/Babbo Natale (Violent Night) Dan Conner (Roseanne) Tate Langdon (AHS: Murder House) Lt. Robert 'Bob' Floyd (Top Gun: Maverick 2022) Francine (American Dad) Beverly Goldberg (The Goldbergs) Fujimoto (Ponyo) Thomas Magnum (Magnum, P.I 1980) Doug Remer (Baseketball) Ian Malcolm (Jurassic Park 1993) Rose Tyler (Doctor Who) Moe Doodle (Doodle Bops) Astarion (Baulders Gate 3) Trevor Phillips (GTA5)Shaun Murphy (The Good Doctor) Georgia Miller (Ginny & Georgia) John Doe (John Doe Game) Paul Blart (Paul Blart Mall Cop) Fezzik (Princess Bride)