#terra 🌹

[youre-ackermine]

Got a love letter for you, Val! Please 🐝 mine. Happy Valentine's Day!‎😘 ❤️

Terra Darling, this is so sweet!!❤️🌹

*smooches you* I'm already yours 😘 Sending back this cute moogle with lots of love & chocolates 💝

Happy Valentine's Day ❤️

[I'm so happy you chose my Dazai x Reader prompt for your Valentine's Day event!!! I'm going to read it right now!!]

[cometchasinglove]

The bright side of being a short lady is that you have a big, robot bf to help lift you up for a kiss!

Thank you SO much for the artwork of Prowl and my girl, knnwa_01! Absolutely adorable!

[sultrycomets]

Ahh, I finally commissioned my first ever smutty piece with Terra and Prowl! Thank you so much, not_safy!

They sure do like meditating together, that’s for sure.

Full!

[reveluving]

i can be the one that takes you there ; commander taylor x reader

summary: it's just you and the commander tonight.

warnings: mentions of s~mut (minors DNI!), loads of kisses & a bit of fluff!

a/n: listening to virgo's groove got me imagining a fic with a certain commander because of have you seen that man? yes. please enjoy & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» curious about my writing? come & check out my main m.list!

'And though his heart soared over your darling token of appreciation, you could tell he also sought for more.' ;

You love Skye, Leah, and Sam like your very own, which is why you and Nathaniel took advantage of the house when they decided to stay over at the Shannons’ for the night—a well-needed adult time without the risk of scarring young minds. There was a mischievous twinkle in his sharp blue eyes before he carried you effortlessly to the bedroom, his rare, hearty laugh drowning out your whiny protests.

Imagine the Commander’s house being a mix of the command base and the Shannons’ house. His house would have an upper level, where your shared bedroom is, almost resembling the circular hut of the command base but would obviously be closed off and built with the usual, tougher reinforcements rather than just wood. A perfect combo of cream, red mahogany and the warm sunset hue that naturally sets the mood. Or dimming the lights when the both of you are feeling extra kinky, and tonight was no exception.

Sleep slips are his absolute kryptonite. Terra Nova has just the right amount of cool, especially in the night. You could be wearing anything and Nathaniel would still be getting ideas that could make a celibate run for their life. His other favourite look on you for nights like these would have to be a black bra and briefs combo, plus an untied robe just hanging over your shoulder. Whichever it may be, it would leave nothing to the imagination. 

He's taken off most of his clothes, sitting on the edge of the bed before pulling you to him to straddle his lap. He's a big man, and his thighs were no exception. Encompassing them would mean your legs would practically spread for his convenience.

Staring into each other’s eyes. You love it when he brushes his thumb across the plush of your lips the same way he adores the way you cradle his face. Rough and calloused, yet, careful as he felt you up. Your touches, on the other hand, were naturally soft, and so was your gaze. Though he had the upper hand, chuckling deeply as you look away out of shyness, he was a sucker for your hands. The passion was palpable, thick, begging for one of you to take the leap.

In fact, you did; by kissing his knuckles. The man is not so much into PDA for obvious reasons, but that doesn’t mean the colony don’t know that he is in fact, an absolute gentleman. There is not a single resident who has never seen him kiss the back of your hand or press his lips to your temple before breaking the embrace to kickstart the day. The only ones brave enough to tease him of his chivalrous side are the group of elderly ladies working at the market. Despite the glare he always has on his face, he takes it with stride, for you yourself have a soft spot for the ladies.

So, what better to repay him for unabashedly showing his love than by doing the same for him?

And though his heart soared over your darling token of appreciation, you could tell he also sought for more.

So, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your chest against his face. His scruffy beard tickled and almost prickled your soft skin as he playfully rocked his head between the valley of your breasts. One arm encircled your waist while the other slid up your body before pinching your nipples through the fabric, only to slip under them to roll the buds between his fingers.

He returned the favour by trailing kisses along your neck and shoulders. His guttural groan sent shivers down your spine as he licked a stripe up your throat, his facial hair only added to the sensation. You felt his smirk against your skin as he heard your breathy moan. His groans dissolved into a growl as you massaged your nails across his scalp. He put his whole emotions into rubbing his hands, up and down your sides, prompting you to stare up at the ceiling, silently cursing the stars.

Then, in the heat of the moment, the two of you would either kiss like there was no tomorrow or press your lips against one another in the softest way possible. One of his hands moved up the nape of your neck before settling his palm on the back of your head, deepening the kiss as his tongue slid against yours. 

Your eyes were just as lidded as his, drunk and dazed, though you had a small smile, contrasting his parted lips as his chest heaved a little. His nose barely brushed against yours as your breaths mingled.

You slowly pushed him by his chest so he'd lay on his back, bending over with him. The mere feeling of your forefinger nail on his torso is enough for him to adhere to your wants without question. 

Straddling him, you splayed your fingers on his chest, dragging your nails down his chiselled body. You take good care of your hands; skin as smooth as silk and nails that could rile him up. Nails that almost seemed like they were perfectly manicured at a salon. Not too long, given your position at the laboratory, but enough to always have Nathaniel imagining them digging into his back as he’d bounce you on his lap or force you on your back to savour your warm, tight pussy at an angle that would make you scream, gasp, all the noises that would get him going.

His thoughts would linger on how in the midst of reaching your high, he’d purposely thrust into that one spot, hoping to feel your nails nearly break the skin of his back—envisioning his wants, no, needs as if he doesn’t fuck you often.

Kissing his scars and dragging your tongue across his old wounds while maintaining eye contact and feeling him buck his hips against your tummy. Ugh. You swelled with pride at the sight of his muscles flexing as it took everything in him not to grip your hair and drag you back up so your face would be mere inches away from his.

You pushed his boxers down just far enough that you could see fine hair that trailed from his navel. You savoured the way he twitched, breath hitching as you lightly ran your fingers over his happy trail before sitting up to do a little ‘show’ for him. 

He was seconds away from turning you over, to hold your head against the mattress when you offered him everything of you. He didn’t know whether to focus on the blissful smile or when your hands travelled up and down your body. Throwing your head back with a flourish and a blissful smile on your face. Displaying your goddess of a body for him and him alone. His beautiful goddess was bestowed upon him, in this new world, the new age in Terra Nova. 

Your giggles were one of many sounds he wanted to hear as he gripped your thighs, rolling himself against yours before dragging you back down, chest to chest for another heated kiss. 

“My turn.” He whispered against your lips.

Sensation after sensation and you weren’t in the best part yet.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» I get my SLang fix off of @underratedcharactersimagines; THIS IS FOR YOU, KHAT (been a fan for years now! but babe, your search bar is broken broken lol. isly tho, your writing is just 🤌🏼) ;; gorgeous red rose divider by @firefly-graphics ❤️

[thehangetomylevi]

Livia 🤎

Thank you for your support! Every reblog, like, kudos and comment from you truly makes my day. I’m so appreciative of the time you take to send them.

(P.s I’m currently writing something just for you :) ) ✍️ 🤎

Oh lovely Terra 🤎

Thank YOU for your amazing fics!! It's easy to support someone who is so talented and nice as you are!

May I send you more requests? I love your writing style and reading something you wrote is like eating a delicious chocolate after a hard day's work 🤎

Love you lots!!

[maitohammmas]

Terra🌹

[lidia-vasconcelos]

"O deserto e a terra ressequida se rejubilarão; o ermo se encherá de felicidade e florescerá como a tulipa." (Isaías 35:1) 🌹

[moodymisty]

hello❤️‍🔥I hope everything is fine with you in life✨Congratulations on the beginning of October🥰 Lion El'Jonson/reader-aristocrat Let everything revolve around the official ceremonial portrait (well, you know those huge full-length paintings when women are sitting on a high-backed chair in a ball gown, and a man is standing a little behind with his hand on his wife's shoulder and they are holding hands) Lion in the days before the Heresy was very skeptical about the idea of making such a portrait, but in the end the reader persuaded him. Cute moment Then skip all the way to Heresy. There is confusion everywhere, war. The reader is either on Caliban or Terra. Lion sent them there, thinking that she would be safe. And so he looks either at the portrait itself or at a small picture and feels anxious and longing for quiet days. And skip up to 41k. Lion woke up after so many years, everything changed around. But he still has this little reproduction and he looks at it when it gets hard. Lion is transported to pleasant memories where everything was fine. He does not know what has become of the reader and the original portrait🥺 Hope for a happy ending or an open dramatic ending - the choice depends entirely on you how to complete it🌹

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: Hey! Sorry this took so long, it took me a hot minute to get it going but once I did I really like how it came out. I hope you enjoy, and it's close enough to what you wanted :3

Summary: Azrael asks a newly awoken Lion about a Chapter relic with a curious history.

Relationships: Lion El'Jonson/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Reader's fate is vague but given the amount of time passed largely spoken about as if dead, Typical 40kness, Far less fluffy than perhaps you wanted but I got carried away with the angst

Word Count: 1196

"Father,"

Azrael looks towards the man he calls his pater, who only spares him a sparse glance. They stand side by side, and while the Primarch in all of his glory dwarfs the Chapter Master, Azrael still feels more on equal terms that he thought he would- in the presence of their Primarch.

The Lion however still finds himself unfamiliar with the Chapter Master, and it has proven difficult for the two to navigate around each other. It has been many years since The Lion drew breath of his own accord; Much has changed since then. The Dark Angels have grown more suspicious, secretive; The Fallen have grown in number. The Necrons, the Tyranids, his father being nothing more than a rotting corpse splayed across his golden throne in a mimicry of what once was.

He stares at the 'relic'- as Azrael had called it when they'd first approached- ahead of him, and it serves as a beacon to a place he can no longer go.

He knows this isn't the original.

The original was put in a gold frame with a delicate filigree, this one is in one of the distinctive Dark Angel green. To match the surroundings, or perhaps the actual art was removed from it's old frame and into this one. Damage, perhaps. The canvas is torn, yellowed with age and the signature of the artist who'd captured this moment in time is unreadable. He can barely see your face, with how much the paint has fallen away.

He can barely see his own as well. Perhaps it's all for the best.

"Who is she?"

The Chapter Master holds his winged helmet in his hands, a rare moment of him not being fully armored. He glances towards the portrait with a stoic curiosity and continues speaking.

"We, know vaguely of her mention in texts from the Heresy, but nothing else. Not even her name." The Librarium is quiet. Only he, Azrael, and a few others occupy the monumental space. The painting is surrounded by other relics of the chapter; Statues, weaponry from warriors of old, scripts and written texts.

"We've never known. Years of searching lead us nowhere, so we had given up our attempts. It was thought to be knowledge lost to time." He hesitates. "Lost to the Heresy."

The Astartes faces trouble with identifying the expression on his Primarch's face, as they both stand paces away from the tattered relic. When he accepts that it's unreadable, he casts his eyes back towards the old painting.

Azrael can tell from what paint is left on the canvas that you're clearly smiling.

Even thousands of years later the warmth of that smile is still palpable; Multiple Dark Angels have found an odd, abit unfamiliar solace in it. It's not uncommon for the Captains and Commanders of the chapter to ponder it in the rare moments they need a form of clarity. It seems to help, and none of them have ever found why.

The dress you wear in the portrait matches the green they cast their armor in, though the paint has lost it's vibrancy over the years. It still matches The Lion's armor however, as he stands behind you the chair you're seated in. You're on a small platform, to make it easier to fit the Primarch who is massively taller into the same frame. His hand rests firmly on your shoulder, and your much daintier, unarmored hand softly grasps two of his fingers.

It's peaceful. It makes the Chapter Master think as to what life was like before the Heresy took it all away. It makes him wonder how a clearly baseline human could have had such a bond with a god; A Primarch.

Meanwhile, it makes The Lion think back to when it was first being painted- the original one- before he'd lost so many of his brothers.

"Smile for once, Lion."

He doesn't, but he does look down on you with a familiar glare. His face barely changes orientation, but you can still so clearly see his desire to scold you. Tucking a single bit of hair behind your ear, you make sure to keep the same position you'd started in. The artist has already requested once you do so, as to avoid any errors in the painting.

Still as you possibly can be, you try not to hurt your cheeks from holding back a smile.

"Roboute was actually right about you having such a sour moue all the time."

Again, he doesn't say a word. His hand stays heavy on your shoulder however, as he stays remarkably still. He can't feel your gentle grasp through his armor, though he can glance down towards it and his nerves attempt to simulate the feeling; a dull accuracy from the memories of previous times.

He thinks this is all pointless. But it's clearly pleasing you, so for once he'll begrudgingly allow it.

After towing you all the way to Terra, to tear you from everything you knew to surround you with thousands of fresh Astartes all hungry for battle, looking to you for orders you aren't yet trained to give. He supposes he can gift you this rare platitude. Perhaps it will serve as a memory to this time that can be looked back upon in the future. To remember how hard they fought to make the galaxy free of the scourge that fills it.

The painter gestures to his serf to gather another color for him, and the young man quickly scurries off to go retrieve it. Meanwhile the artist continues, working in a fashion far more slowly and inferior to the current technology of the time.

The Lion considers it a waste, though unlike him you come from a planet with an emphasis on the arts; Same as Fulgrim and Roboute. There's something in this you value, and while he doesn't consider himself as soft as some of his brothers, the love he has for you prevents him from squandering your joy.

Sanguinius will surely find this all hilarious.

Azrael glances upward again towards his Primarch. He thinks he hears him mumble something, but The Lion is silent by the time he realizes something might've been said.

The Primarch could taste your name on his lips, but speaking it would only make it worse. He silenced himself before it was spoken aloud for the first time in thousands of years.

He knows that after his 'demise', after he was put in the dreamless sleep deep within The Rock, you briefly issued orders alongside his old council. That's all the Chapter's records have left, after so many centuries.

Not a single one of those texts even mentions your name, let alone your fate. You're a ghost of his own mind. Your memory is but a relic in a Librarium locked away for untold years.

Part of him is glad he acquiesced to your silly, human desire. Another part is hateful, because now he has a memory he can do nothing with but feel the way it aches.

He never answers Azrael. And so the Astartes files the question away in his mind, discontent but accepting to never ask it again.

[eroscandy]

⸤ 🌹 ⸣ ⸻ WITH ALL THE PRETTY FLOWERS IN THE DUST ，

Headcanons de Candace Lovegood sobre o Fechamento da Fenda.

Contrariada por deixar uma das irmãs convencê-la sobre mudar a cor dos cabelos, Canda pegou o discurso de Circe na metade. O que, felizmente, não foi difícil de acompanhar. Os deuses sempre foram muito esquivos quanto as próprias histórias e, convenhamos, tudo é muito conveniente para quem 'ganha' o direito de ditá-la. Sua confiança nas crias de Hécate ainda balançava, salvo alguns nomes; e seu olhar para cada rosto era avaliativo. Marcou em seus pensamentos de evitar qualquer contato até ter certeza.

Candace foi uma das que foram atrás dos documentos e que não se assustou quando não encontrou nada. Seria fácil demais. Contudo, ainda leu os arquivos de antes e depois, atrás de qualquer pista que tenha deixado passar. O plano frustrado quando o tempo passou rápido demais e ela precisou se juntar aos outros no ritual de fechamento. Mais uma nota de continuar as pesquisas e de trazer seu cérebro a tiracolo.

Escolheu o terreno mais alto perto dos curandeiros. Não era de combate de perto, não adianta; mas a rapieira confeccionada pelos Ferreiros estava em mãos. Candace sentia o nervosismo dar nós no estômago, um misto de sentimentos preocupados e ansiosos, muito estranho para a confiança que exibia independente da missão. Talvez alguma coisa estivesse diferente, talvez fosse o cabelo castanho-avermelhado. Ou talvez fosse a mudança de cenário, de estar acostumada à segurança de Circe e relutante em aceitar a nova (e de sempre) realidade.

Dizer para não acreditar em monstros bem reais? Não não. Candace acreditou em cada um deles e não perdeu tempo em lançar suas flechas à distância. O ângulo era estranho, pela quantidade de semideuses na linha de visão, mas ela improvisou como deu. Os tiros iam em arco, cada flecha mágica com uma rosa envolvida. Ao cair atrás dos monstros explodiam sonoramente. Suas mãos tremiam quando encaixava firme, mas... Até quando?

Cada explosão mexeu muito com a filha de Eros. Três traidores? Ela esperava dois, afinal, não acreditou em momento algum no bode expiatório do primeiro. Agora dois? Seus passos iam para trás, na direção da enfermaria, o cérebro meio confuso demais para enfrentar aqui tudo. E quando a fenda começou a puxar? Ela se agarrou a uma árvore chorando, cravando as unhas no tronco e arranhando o rosto pela força que segurava. Foi o momento mais assustador daquele ano (perdendo para Hidra). Por quê? Não tinha como combater a terra querendo engoli-la.

Quando a poeira baixou e as ordens foram dadas, Candace criou uma rosa mágica e a lançou na direção do chalé. Fogos de artifício coloridos iluminando a fachada do chalé de Eros e, assim, chamando-os de volta. A contagem estava certa, graças aos deuses, mas ela ficava na ponta dos pés para ver os outros. Seu coração acalmando a cada rosto conhecido respondendo seu olhar desesperado. Sua visão aguçada enxergou a maioria antes do primeiro nome ser anunciado. Melis. As lágrimas escorreram imediatamente. Aí... Vieram os outros. Brooklyn. Tadeu.

Depois de assegurar-se que todos os irmãos estavam bem, Candace foi atrás dos três. Perguntou novamente para os irmãos, correu para onde a fenda estava atrás de alguma coisa. Uma saída secreta, um túnel remanescente. Custava... Custava muito não passar o resto do dia tentando achar uma maneira de ir buscá-la, mas seria em vão. Sabia que era em vão. Então refinou seus esforços. Confiou na esperança de que estava viva. Estavam vivos. E queimou oferendas para todos os deuses que pudessem ajudá-los a encontrar o caminho de volta.

@silencehq e @hefestotv

[io-sono-la-tua-favola]

La vita ci riserva delle sorprese…

A volte belle …

A volte brutte …

si può rinunciare alla vita ?

No non si deve …

Si cade …

Ci si rialza …

Si cade ancora …

E ci si rialza ancora …

Ancora e ancora …

Mai e poi mai rimanere in terra !!!

📖🌹

[youre-ackermine]

For the ask game - Cyber

Terra Darling ❤️🌹❤️

Cyber: yeeesss!!! I'm online almost 24 hours a day, my Tumblr & Twitter moots live mostly in North & South America or in Asia, so I must be awake if I want to interact with them lmao

But don't worry, sometimes I fall asleep (at least for 2 hours) or I have to work / do irl stuff or I'm with my family so I'm afk 😉

Thanks for asking, I didn't mean to make you worry about me 🥺🥺 I'll touch grass & breathe fresh air & enjoy nature in a few days in the Alps 🏞️

Lots of love for my Darling 😘🌹❤️

[cometchasinglove]

Imagine Terra asking Prowl to show her some ways to take down ‘Cons and him doing that little smirk that says he thinks she’s precocious but he loves her so much. And of course he obliges her

Anon, this is so damn sweet. She would, too! She's a tough and focused gal! Very eager to learn new things.

Prowl does a lot to make sure that she is safe and protected, including teaching her how to defend herself.

[sultrycomets]

Tender Meditations

Warnings: 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 525

Deep within the peaceful outskirts of Detroit, Terra and Prowl sat together in a clearing surrounded by grassy fields and trees. The air tickled the woman’s nose, her short, blonde hair swaying in the soothing breeze. Her green eyes reflected the light of the sun, the blue sky glowing high above her. 

As Prowl held her in his lap, he meditated in silence. Terra tried to follow his lead, but it was rather difficult to even steady her breath. Why? She was nude, entirely exposed to the woodland elements with her breasts and womanhood out on full display. The mech’s gentle servos roamed her lithe and petite body, rolling his thumb across her hardened nipples and rubbing the outer folds to her pussy. During one particular rub, she whined, her eyes closing shut as she unraveled in front of him. 

And just like that, he stopped his ministrations. Terra couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit disappointed. 

“Terra?”

The woman blinked open her eyes again, biting her lip.

“Mhm?”

Prowl’s voice was as docile as ever.

“Focus,” he said. “Breathe.”

Terra giggled at his words, shaking her head in a playful manner.

“Easy for you to say, Prowler.” She attempted to lift her head to glance upwards at him. “How are you so…calm during this?”

Prowl smirked down at her.

“Practice…as well as patience and dedication.”

Terra’s bare shoulders fell. To him, it was that easy. Although she considered herself to be a quiet individual, she was even more determined to make it rather difficult for him.

Terra tossed her head back against his lower chest, drawing fake moans from her stomach as her face contorted into exaggerated, lewd expressions. Sadly, Prowl didn’t even flick a digit at her efforts. Rather, he hovered them over her breasts, grazing them but never truly touching them.

It nearly drove her mad.

“Hm.” The Ninjabot’s cyan visor glimmered against the sunlight. “Personally, I find Bumblebee’s fake moans to be more convincing.”

The girl pouted, her hands holding on to what she could of his thighs. She frowned at her defeat, sulking silently. And then, that was when Prowl leaned forward against her back.

“Here. Allow me.”

His servos made a slow but hasty return to her breasts and cunt. She gasped once she felt a tender pinch of her tit while the other digit stroked her slick, wet slit. 

“P…Prowl!”

She nearly bucked her hips as he entered his smooth, warm digit inside of her, fingering her by providing her with careful and thorough stimulation. 

As the two proceeded with their endeavors, Prowl finally shuddered, producing his own moan from deep inside his frame. Delighted, Terra emitted her own little cry of victory before coming undone with a clench of her pussy around his single digit.

“You know, Prowl,” she winked at him, “I believe that sex in nature helps you become more…at one with it.”

His voice then turned into a whisper, lifting her up to press a kiss to the back of her neck. Terra shivered and gasped, her eyes bright with warmth and desire.

“Well, Firefly, it may please you to know that…so do I.”

Divider Credit: @/inklore

[thehangetomylevi]

Happy birthday Livia! 🤎 🎂

Thank you so much Terra 🤎

I'm sorry to reply only now but I had a lot of work to get rid of!

And I just saw you posted chapter 2 of your new fic ; I can't wait to read it!

Sending love 🤎

[dont-f-with-moogles]

Terra Darling ❤️🌹

Smut Scribbles? Levihan brainrot mode on! How about 13? Levi saying "touch yourself" to Hange [yes, dom!levi for a change hehe] 😈

Love you ❤️ Mwah 😘

Smut Scribbles 13: “Touch yourself.”

Waiting (Modern AU/established relationship/NSFW) Characters: Levi x Hange, Erwin Word Count: 2405 words

For over two weeks, the apartment had stood quiet, clean and decluttered, with every item in its place. The countertops gleamed, the freshly-mopped floors shone, and Levi felt content. But ever since Hange had departed for the other side of the country, excited to assist on a summer programme at a prestigious university, the walls had contained a heavy silence. Hange had taken their mess and laughter and light-hearted chatter with them. They had taken the steps of a well-rehearsed evening routine; all the things that had once made sense to Levi. Now, alone and restless, he cooked meals for two and placed the leftovers in their fridge. He snorted quietly at spurious comments on the television and glanced to the empty space beside him. Compulsively, he tapped at his phone screen and watched Hange’s smiling face illuminate the surface of their low table. In the picture, they were hugging a large Titan plushie so that it obscured half of their body. Their eyes were turned away from him, to where something else had already piqued their attention. Levi sighed. No new notifications. Then again, it had only been five minutes since he had last checked.

From day one, the very moment that Hange’s first message had announced their arrival, Levi had tried to reach them. Often he would sit with a hand clasped to his eyes, uttering an audible sigh as the automated voice invited him to leave a message. On other, less common occasions, and when he least expected it, Levi’s phone would suddenly begin vibrating loudly across the table. In the space of one phone call the apartment felt like home again, rather than three rooms filled with their belongings. The sound of Hange’s voice was like technicolour bleeding through his monochrome existence.

By the end of the first week, Levi had sat scrolling through train times and ticket prices. The one insurmountable obstacle to his visitation plans was getting time off work. Defeated, Levi dragged himself off to bed. Some nights, he would return to the sitting room with a book. Finding temporary peace in his low-back armchair, Levi finally settled into a light sleep.

Other nights Levi would stare at the ceiling, willing himself to sleep rather than permit his mind to wander to the subject of Hange’s current whereabouts; what they were doing and who they were with. It had taken mere days - two in fact - for Levi’s imagination to meander in a more vulgar direction. Bedsheets flung back, he grasped himself with a firm hand. Eyes closed, head sunk against the pillow, the reel of images came to him. Their last time together had been a hurried affair; Levi standing with Hange propped upon the kitchen counter, legs wrapped around his waist. Alone in the darkness of their bedroom, heat rolled over Levi’s skin. He pulled back with quickening movements, his mouth falling open in sweet agony. But it was never enough to pretend that his touch was theirs. Nothing could compare to the press of Hange’s lips; the sensation of their body; the ecstasy that he could only reach with them clenched around him.

Each morning Levi would slope off to the train station. It had become a daily game of endurance, resisting the impulse to remove his phone from his pocket. As his carriage lurched on the tracks, Levi swayed amongst his fellow passengers. Clinging to the rail, his free hand lifted his cell, its screen alight in the morning gloom. No new notifications.

By the end of the second week, Levi’s irritability was driving his colleagues away from his desk. He was, however, content to be left alone. It made it easier for Levi to throw himself into his work or to take a break, unnoticed, and head out onto the terrace of their building. If he was ever asked, Levi gave the excuse that he needed some air. In truth, the roof boasted the best cell signal. It was, unfortunately, an area veiled in cigarette smoke where a small population of staff would gather to gossip. The stench was both faintly nauseating and painfully familiar to him. It reminded Levi of when Hange would sneak a cigarette out on their own balcony at home or down in the car park below the apartment. Of course, he would always chastise them for such a disgusting habit but, for now, he seemed to mind it less.

It was upon this very terrace, at the start of the third week, mid-afternoon, that Levi stared over the rooftops and dark tower blocks of the city. Leaning upon his elbow, he rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand. Then the murmurs around him were drowned out by a sudden crescendo of music. It was all Levi could do to prevent himself from dropping his cell phone off the balcony in panic. His finger hovered over the lit screen and then slid across the bar which had appeared.

“Hange…?”

“Sorry I haven’t managed to call until today!” their voice chimed in his ear; a playful arrangement of notes which lifted his heart whenever he heard them. “I managed to drop my phone in the sink. I left it at the store to see if it could be fixed and only just got back with a new one today.”

It was at this that Levi scowled. “Why should I be surprised?”

“Come on, Levi…” Hange whined, ”we’ve both been busy so let’s make the most of this opportunity! Today has been my first chance to take a break and-” They hesitated. “Aren’t you meant to be working now?”

“It’s fine. Erwin’s got bigger things to be concerned with than me ducking out to take a quick call.” Levi folded his arms upon the stone balustrade, phone held tightly to his ear. “So - how’ve you been enjoying your break?”

“I’ve literally just got out of the bath. I called you before I grabbed any clothes.”

“You’re… just sitting around in a towel?” Levi’s tone was huskier than usual. It was on the tip of his tongue to berate them for sitting around in nothing but a damp towel, practically asking to catch a cold, when the other, less chivalrous part of his brain caught up. Levi could not unsee it; Hange perched upon the desk chair in their accommodation, one foot on the seat cushion, the other bare leg tucked beneath them. Their dark, clean, shining hair would be pulled into a messy bun, loose strands falling about their face. The lenses of their glasses would be misted. Perhaps Hange would slide them to the top of their head, pulling back tousled strands of dripping hair from their neck. Levi imagined a bead of water trickling down until it pooled in the hollow of their throat. Close enough for him to lean in and catch it upon his tongue. Levi swallowed.

“Uh… well, technically the towel’s on my head.”

All at once the white towel that he had pictured, a little see-through from its soaked edges, vanished from Levi’s construction. Now he could see Hange’s hair wrapped in it; water dripping onto their bare shoulders. Their skin glistened, the smooth edge of their collarbone shone with moisture. Droplets coursed down the narrow valley of their chest.

“I feel too hot to put anything on… besides, I’m very comfortable right now. Just like this.”

Levi glanced around conspiratorially. A few of his colleagues were standing along from him, stubbing cigarettes out on a metal bin. Levi turned away, only to notice Petra’s red hair as she weaved around a couple of women standing by the door on the left. Surreptitiously he passed the large congregation encircling the bin and took the door on the far right.

“I’m in public!” Levi hissed, striding past rows of work desks until he had arrived in the empty stairwell beyond the office. He drew to a halt by the large floor-to-ceiling window and scraped his shoe upon the topmost stair.

“Why’d you say that, Levi?”

“You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?” Levi pinched the bridge of his nose. His efforts at self-control were failing. How could he keep his mind away from Hange, seated upon that chair, their long, tanned legs stretched out. He could see their hand reaching down; a nail gliding up the inside of their thigh.

“What… you think I’m trying to torment you or something?” Hange laughed. “I just called to catch up! You would know if I really wanted to drive you crazy. I’d only need to mention… the Kitchen Incident.”

They left the words hanging like bait. Levi swallowed again. Of course Hange knew, all too well, that he would bite.

On the morning of their departure, Hange had busied themself with a half-packed bag, whistling, as Levi watched them over his coffee. They had prepared for this; said everything that needed to be said; savoured every inch of each other’s bodies whilst they had the chance. So it had been a simple goodbye, standing in front of the door. Levi had brushed a stray hair from Hange’s jacket. And Hange had mocked him, before holding out their arms. A farewell embrace had turned into a lingering kiss. Then, without warning, Hange’s bag had clattered to the ground, their flask rolling across the hardwood floor. Stumbling footsteps took them back into the kitchen, and then Hange was on the counter top, knees pressed against Levi’s sides. He remembered the feel of them, hot, pliant, their legs wrapped around him. Levi’s tongue glided across the roof of their mouth as he leaned into them. Breathlessly, Hange reached down, their hands fumbling with the button on his trousers. Levi slung them around his knees; Hange’s suit trousers and underwear were flung to the ground. How tightly he had clutched their hips. How urgently and harshly he had fucked them. Hange lay back against the countertop, their feet pressed into his back. Beneath him, they struggled to gasp out his name, only stuttering broken moans. Levi’s quickening thrusts; Hange’s frantic breaths in his ear; the sting of their nails embedded in his skin…

“I nearly missed my train, you know…”

Levi’s breath burned in his lungs. Here he stood, painfully, shamefully hard, whilst Hange was relishing in the effect that they could have on him even at such a distance.

“You’re really asking for it, huh?” Levi’s voice was as dark as smoke. “You fucking wait. The second you walk through that door, I’m gonna bend you over-”

“Levi?”

“Yeah?” Levi covered his cell phone with a hand and lowered it to his side. “Sorry. I’ve got this asshole on the line. Wants to play hardball. I told them that we’re expecting the minimum payment at the least.” His superior eyed him dubiously.

“I never question your intuition, Levi,” Erwin replied approvingly, “...but do remember that this is a charity organisation, not a corporation, and that all donations are gratefully received.”

He turned away. Levi raised his hand.

“...you are getting fucked so hard that you’ll never walk again. Better get used to working from home, Shitty Glasses.”

Erwin had stopped to glance back over his shoulder.

“And Levi, don’t forget our three o’clock. I’ll let you know when they’ve arrived.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” As he watched Erwin’s retreating form, he lifted his phone once more.

“Already, huh Levi?”

“Shut up. What, do you want to get me fired?”

“Fired up.” Hange laughed again. “Anyway, Erwin would never fire you. He loves you too much. And he can do without you for five minutes… right?”

“Five minutes…?”

Hange’s voice dropped to a throaty whisper. “I heard Erwin say three. You’ve got enough time to join me.”

Levi descended to the lower level, crossing the quietened corridor. He had no idea where he was heading. There were still colleagues from the upper floors carrying their laptops and collecting photocopies. No where was entirely safe, secluded…

“How are exactly are you going fuck me? Let’s hear more about that, shall we?”

“Wait-” Levi had arrived at the men’s bathroom; he nudged the door open with his foot.

“You’d better hurry…” There came a rasping giggle. “...I’ve already started without you.”

Levi felt a delicious pull below his abdomen. A dirty picture here and there, with the odd, suggestive message thrown in, had hardly been enough to reignite the fading memories from a few weeks ago. But with Hange’s trembling voice in his ear; knowing they were hot, wet, longing for him…

Levi glanced under the bathroom stalls as he moved along. None bore the shadows of feet beneath them.

“Tell me what you want to do to me, Levi…”

Ravenous. Levi was overcome by hunger for their lips; for the taste of them; the heat of their skin against his. How desperate he was to yank their hair from the roots; lose himself between their legs over and over again…

Levi nudged open another door, disappeared inside and slid the lock in place.

“Don’t you dare touch yourself yet.” Levi shifted his phone to his other ear. His other hand drew down the fastening on his trousers.

“That’s kind of the point-”

“No,” Levi’s voice lashed, despite it carrying no further than a whisper, “not until I say you can.” There came a low crackle down the receiver.

“Put your fingers on your lips,” he commanded. “I…” His pulse throbbed in his throat. “I want to kiss you everywhere. Your mouth, your neck…”

Hange gave a muffled sigh.

“I want to have you up against this stall…” Levi looked doubtfully at the scuffed wall. It was a testament to Hange and his own arousal that he could overlook the questionable cleanliness of his surroundings.

As Levi continued his descriptions, Hange’s shaking breath came louder through the phone. He drew himself out of his underwear and, with a tight grasp, began to pull back in measured strokes as he talked. Eyes closed, he pictured Hange’s long body sprawled out across their bed. He saw himself kneeling before their spread legs, savouring the heat of their thigh against his cheek as he dipped his head…

“Levi?”

There was a crash as Levi’s elbow collided with the door.

“Shit!”

“Understood,” answered Erwin from the other side of the stall, “and I apologise for disturbing you in the middle of it, but our visitors have already signed in at reception.”

[chico-centavos]

O último romântico da terra 🌹