#war chief zeke

[jeanbie]

WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU #2 ★ masterlist.

pairing: zeke x reader

genre: porn star au | warnings: sexual content, fem!reader | wc: 806

⏤ Imagine the first time they say I love you. Imagine it spoken at night, roughly, in the middle of an intense romantic encounter.

It’s different this time around.

It’s just two lovers on a scratchy, whitewashed blue bed-sheet, with the silence as their soundtrack.

The room is oddly cool, almost as if completely submerged under midnight waters, a draught carrying with a swooping gesture across the bareness of the bedroom. Well, it could be described as a bedroom; instead, perhaps just a room accompanied by a bed and a large lion-footed chester drawers with one or two shirts hanging from over the edges. A messy, rather sloppy sight that was overshone by the heat and the friction of the two bodies atop the double bed, the world theirs to take. A dappled light shone through the half-open curtains by a bay window, the blinds slanted with tasteless effort to close them moments earlier. It doesn’t feel like how it felt before; a blinding light cast down onto a pretty bed with unflattering drapes, the offbeat pop song that choreographed each movement of your partner. No sketchy, planned, rehearsed scene could even dare to live up to the feelings shared this night between two lovers.

His lips began to smother from the underside of your jaw down the smooth expanse of your neck, kissing tenderly at the highlights. Both lovers already bare, shivers coursing through their veins at every small collision their bodies made; his hands smooth across your thighs, his palms merely spreading them apart to accommodate himself between. Your neck, now but a canvas of bruising eggplant shades and red welts upon your collarbones arches back, and you sigh out in delight at the way Zeke explores your body like it is a treasure map- let him be the pirate.

At the absence of his clothes, Zeke pushed himself deeper inside of you, the safe grip on your legs hoisted up to fit around his waist being nothing but strong gestures of encouragement; a gentle squeeze told him not to worry but to instead, keep going, and so he did. 

His teeth move to graze at the juncture of your neck, whispering moans painted across your skin as his body moves like a wave in, out, in, out; a rhythm only you two can keep up with. He tries- you can see- to be gentle, the way a lover should be, but at the sight of seeing your mouth hanging agape, a pornographic groan erupting from the back of your throat, pride swallows him whole and naturally, he grows cockier and cockier by the second. Catching his lips with your teeth when he figures it’s ‘time’ to press kisses to your mouth, he growls– words caught dead on his tongue.

“Yes, baby, like that,” he praises, encourages, “just like that.”

His hands, shakily, move to hold the calf of your leg, adjusting himself so his final movements can be perfect. As the moon shifts at a different angle, and the light changes, you can see his hips falter and slow, shifting to a grinding pace and his hands move in a stuttery movement, callous palms rubbing across your skin.

“M’gonna cum,” he whispers. “Babe-”

“Let go,” is what you reply, lips ghosting over his own. “Let go, baby, let go, fill me–”

Who is he to deny?

The feeling of your stomach sporadically churning and tensing up, a line of sweat builds on your hairline as he keeps up his pace. Soon, he thinks, soon.

“I love you,” Zeke almost whines, “God, I love you so, so much.”

A groan elicits from your lips- “I love you, too- oh, my god, I love you–”

“CUT!”

The lights switch on, blinding you and almost instantly, Zeke falters to turn his head over his shoulder, staring at the crew with raised cameras and artificial lights, clipboards in hands, the small light flickering red.

“…thinking we take it from the third angle, again,” the director suggests. “Cut the love-ending, too, you’ve gotta keep your audience interested. Nobody wants to see a couple actually in love.”

Zeke nods, “sure thing.”

The crew begin to manoeuvre their gear around the set, chattering amongst themselves as you drop to a thud onto the sheets, disappointment evident on your features. At the sound of your breath slipping from your lips, Zeke looks over and gently- almost playfully- shakes your leg.

“Cheer up, babe,” he murmurs. In contrast to the porno, hearing him say babe just makes you feel more disappointed. “You did well.”

He leaves a fleeting kiss on your leg before letting it drop to the sheet where your body lies, and lifting himself up from the mattress. As the bed rises due to his weight moving, your chest sinks with even more disappointment. 

But you are the only one to blame- what a silly thing to do, falling for a guy you can never really have?

[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.

[dollwritesarchive]

𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 — 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!marleyan!reader, obvious manipulation, reader definitely takes advantage of Reiner’s not so healthy mental state so dub con, mild angst, handjob, needy!sub!reiner, body worship, size kink, all characters featured are 18+ 

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ requested by anonymous!! i’m always down to make reiner pathetic. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <; 3

“What would you do for me?” 

“Anything…” Reiner moaned, his hips jutting forward. you slide around on his lap, but you don’t mind. his face is buried between the open buttons of your uniform top, panting hot air against your cleavage. his tiers smear grateful kisses over the tops of your breasts, but he doesn’t dare reach to unclasp your bra without permission. 

bring him back. 

that had been what your superiors told you. 

they could tell that the Armored Titan had changed; whether that meant he was slipping out of Marleyan control or had simply lost himself over the years he spent on Paradise Island, it didn’t matter to them. they’d sent you with Zeke, straight to where Reiner had been resting in the infirmary; the whole time you’d walked side by side with Zeke, you wondered how he could be okay with this. 

how was it that he, like the Marleyans, didn’t mind playing mind games with his soldiers? 

“He likes you.” Zeke had broken silence once the two of you were just outside the infirmary. 

“You’re his War Chief,” you replied, looking away, “he would listen to you if you ordered him to. There’s no need to bring me into it.” 

“He likes you.” Zeke repeated, taking a long drag off a cigarette, “Of course he’d listen to me, but he needs more than orders right now.” he’d given you a knowing look from beneath the rims of his glasses, staring down his nose at you. “I know you’ve done it before, when he first came home.” 

your brows knit together, and you tried to glare at him, but in the end, your gaze fell to your own feet. “I told the general I didn’t want to do it anymore.” you grumble; that familiar, sick sensation twisting your stomach into knots. Reiner was a good man, if not a little misguided, and even though you knew that he must know that the Marleyan military uses you against him, that you only visited him, kissed him, slept with him because you had been ordered to do so, he didn’t seem to mind. you did, though. because you knew he deserved more.

you just couldn’t give it to him, and he wouldn’t seek it out on his own. 

“With all due respect,” Zeke started in a low tone, “I don’t really give a damn what you think of me for bringing you here. If you think I’m wicked for toying with Reiner’s head, then you may be right.” you glare up at him, open your mouth to speak, but he’s no longer looking at you. “My Vice Chief is standing on a metaphorical ledge, and I don’t want to see him jump. If dangling your cunt in front of him will talk him down from it, then I’ll do that. If the general permits it, I’ll drag you to him whether you want to or not. I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you, kicking and screaming, to his bed every night if it will keep his head on straight.” 

you could’ve slapped him— it was well within your ability to make his cheek burn red with the imprint of your hand, and even he wouldn’t have stopped you, but you don’t. something about the way he spoke, with the certainty he used, told you it didn’t matter how you protested. he and the general shared the same sentiments. they didn’t care how badly you messed Reiner up when you played with his heart; they only needed him to fight. 

Pieck was waiting at the door, a lazy smile gracing her lips, and she waved you inside, leaning against one crutch. you pondered, for a moment, about telling Zeke how despicable he was. but, it would do no good. so, you simply trudged forward, slipping inside and allowed the Eldian girl to lead you to Reiner’s room. 

to your duty. 

“Anything?” you repeat, biting back a frown. you didn’t want him to see how much you loathed how easily he threw himself into the flames for you. your svelte digits caress the bulging veins on his cock in butterfly strokes. it stood straight up between your clothed bodies, swollen, jabbing at the air and the palm of your hand when you wrapped a fist around it, begging for attention from you. you tilt your head back and exhale when he sucks hard on your clavicle, both massive arms wrapped around your midsection and keeping you pulled tight against him. he was big, much bigger than you, and that always made you a little nervous. nervous that he might, one day, stop being so submissive. “Reiner—“ you breathe, unsteady, and he whimpers against your skin, rocking his hips more fervently now that you’ve called his name. he always loved the sound. “What would you do for me?” you repeat, the gentle pad of your thumb teasing his slit. precum frosts it, and the muscles in his arms draw taut. 

“Fuck,” he slurs, dragging his open mouth over your breasts, his brows furrowed, “anything! I’d kill for you.” his breath is shaky as he lifts his head, his golden gaze desperate to meet yours. you avoid it, mostly, and stare at the dusky rose colored blush across his cheeks. “I—I’d die for you…” he moans, and you allow your hand to gather all of his essence and use it to ease the friction as your hand glides south, back down to squeeze the thick base. “If that’s what you want from me, I’ll do it, I will…” 

“Sh, sh, sh…” you croon, filling your voice with as much honey as you could murmur, pursing your lips and pumping your fist in slow, firm strokes that had a sordid whine rumbling in his throat, “I don’t want you to die for me, Reiner. I want you to live for me. I want you to fight for me.” 

he was nodding, leaning as close to your lips as he could, his own working to capture your couplet, even as you kept them just out of reach. to kiss him would only make lying to him harder, even if he wanted to live in the fantasy so badly. your pace quickens, only just, and his grip around your smaller frame tightens. “I will, I am.” you knew that, if he wanted to force you, it wouldn’t be difficult. he could easily overpower you, steal what he wanted ( which, right now was your kiss ), and you could do nothing to stop him. but he doesn’t. he begs you, just under his breath, moaning your name until you’re lightheaded. “Kiss me… please…” you knew he was close; he was throbbing in your hand, bucking his hips to hump the tight fist you used to jerk him off. he was going to cum, and he needed your kiss to push him over the edge. 

“As soon as you promise me.” you urge, running your free hand up to grasp at his cropped, golden hair at the nape of his neck. you didn’t have to pull at it, he leaned back willingly, his lips leaving a peppering of needy, heated pecks over your jaw, as if pleading to be able to land one on your tiers. “Promise me you’ll fight for me.” 

“Please…” 

“Promise you’ll fight with me.” 

“Fuck, p—please…” 

“You won’t leave us.” 

Reiner nodded to every syllable, his eyelids fluttering weak, but he managed to keep his eyes on you, sucking on your jawline, inching up, hopefully, to kiss at the side of your mouth. “I s—swear… I’ll fight for you. I’ll fight… I’ll do whatever you want, I’m yours to command… use me on the battlefield or off, I don’t care. Just please… kiss me!” 

you shudder. 

you were using him. he knew that. he was just too obsessed with you to care. 

pumping harder, faster, you allow your lips to part, and a gentle tilt of your head towards him encourages his to find yours, as if rewarding him for being the most obedient toy soldier he could be. Reiner grunts and devours your mouth in hard, desperate kisses, locking you in place with his powerful biceps. you keep pumping, the other hand still buried in his hair as he comes undone, panting and rumbling a pathetic slew of thank yous into your cavern. 

his head drops forward when he needs air, leaving you panting, too, and praises your soft breasts again. his tongue tracing what you thought might be his name as he snorts against them, glazing your hand and his twitching cock in the warm release that erupts in furious, little spurts. he’s still so pent up, even though you’d seen him a couple of months before, and you wonder if he ever slept with any other women. 

or, did he always save himself for you? 

“You’re good, Reiner.”  you whisper, before you even realize you’ve done it, resting your chin on the crown of his head. carefully, you pet the damp tendrils back, and nibble on your lip. “So good.” 

Reiner lets out a partial moan, but it’s mostly a heavy sigh of relief, before he nuzzles into your cleavage. “Don’t leave me yet.” he mutters, shifting underneath you. you move, too, slow to allow him to pick the position. he guides you on to your back, and lays against you, keeping his face buried in your heaving chest. he closes his eyes, breathing easier as you run your fingers through his hair. “You can sneak out later just, please wait until I’m asleep.” 

[jaegersdevil]

boyfriend!eren headcanons pt. 5

u guys love him, so i will provide more......

cw: zeke is a father (his kid is named oliver), use of y/n once

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 / masterlist

children LOVE bf!eren and he treats them like they're his friends instead of actual kids

bf!eren 'hangs out' with his nephew instead of babysitting him. he talks to oliver about the basketball game on tv like he's his best mate..... asking for his opinion, if he wants a beer, about his doctor's visit yesterday, 'hey y/n, can i give him some pizza?'..... when ollie is literally 4 months old

bf!eren wears nba jerseys or oversized graphic tees with sweat shorts...... that's just his style. i really can't see him in anything other than sweatpants, a hoodie, and his bigass dunks when he goes out.... sorry to all the fashion girlies 😔

BUT, if it's somewhere important (team dinner, awards night, a wedding, a ball perhaps etc), then he does wear a suit & dress shoes (all black). he's not THAT laidback ok

bf!eren surprises you with your favourite dessert every friday night (not really a surprise atp, but it's the thought that counts <333)

wherever you sit, bf!eren has his arm over the back of the chair/couch you're on

bf!eren LOVES sci-fi movies from the 70s & 80s, hence the back to the future DVDs (part 4), the star wars funko pops (leia, darth vader, chewie, luke) he has around his room, and the framed dune poster in his living room

bf!eren listens to rap music, mostly kendrick, travis, eminem, baby keem, chief keef, yeat... i could go on forever. BUT he also loves 80s rock (eg his bon jovi vinyl (part 4), inxs CDs, and many more), and 90s & 00s club music

you keep extra snacks in your backpack for bf!eren because he gets hungry in class AFKJSAFJ

bf!eren flirts with you 24/7, and pretends to flirt with you as a stranger in public sometimes because he is SILLY

you both have an obsession with taking photos of each other (but find it annoying when the other does it) (e.g. on a picnic, you've got your phone out, ready to take a picture of bf!eren absolutely destroy his sandwich, but when he sees you, he tilts his head and sighs, covering his face with one hand and his other holds the sandwich to his mouth) (e.g. 2. you're reading on the couch, bf!eren is sat across from you, your legs on top of his. and because eren never turns his phone ringer off, you hear him take a photo of you. you groan instantly and cover your face with the book, whining his name. he just giggles and adds it to his folder of photos of you)

bf!eren throws grapes at you when you ignore him (lovingly)

bf!eren buys your favourite album on vinyl so he can keep it at his house

bf!eren likes being the little spoon but will be the big spoon if you don't want to <3

bf!eren plays with your fingers when watching tv/movies because he can't sit still to save his life

bf!eren is a golden retriever boyfriend, but he can be such an asshole!!

in part 2 i mentioned he can be so condescending and petty in an argument, and that's because he doesn't know how to express his emotions in a healthy way (but he's working on it with you!!)

in basketball games against certain colleges, bf!eren gets so fired up and aggressive and lippy. he talks so much shit on the court (he's known for it), and isn't afraid to take shit either (which pisses off the other team, and the whole cycle starts again)

but, it's a bonus for you when he gets off the court because he's looking extra hot..... and he knows it...... asshole

bf!eren is such a gossip too, like he hears ONE thing from jean in passing, and suddenly everyone in the group has heard about it... but everybody already knows not to tell bf!eren anything they don't want anyone else to know (the group still makes jokes about how poor jean got scammed by a fake protein powder website (he lost $200 HA.... sorry))

lmao bf!eren's such a little shit <3

[oxygenbefore1775]

am i wrong giving my all making you stay tonight

➥zeke x fem!reader

➥tags: canonverse, the year is 850 just before zeke is deployed to paradis

➥cw: major mentions of hatred towards eldians, star-crossed lovers and forbidden relationship trope, zeke is a narcissist and a dick here, the reader is also not that nice tbh, twisted marriage proposal and all that comes with it, zeke has some morbid fascination with his death, derogatory treatment from zeke (it's hella toxic); nsfw! (mdni) but it's at the very end so don't hesitate to scroll all the way down if you wanna skip all the explanation to them fucking, rough fucking, man handling, prone bone, kinda dacryphillia, talking during sex, one instance of hair tuggung

➥wc: 8.4k — no beta we die like my sleep schedule while writing this

➥summary: the night zeke tells you about his upcoming mission on paradis doesn't go without its consequences.

➥a/n: so i have this huge-ass zeke fic that i'm writing in my mother-tongue and because i'm sooo original w my content on tumblr rn i'm just gonna translate some parts of it here with some alterations - prepare for some incoherent shit, i warned you, that's like the most delulu zeke i have ever written

He is not to be trusted.

There's a deceit lacing his each word.

Cold and cunning, he was nonetheless charming. You would be lying if you denied the scorching languor that the ice of his blue eyes kindled in you.

Fleeting sentiments filled your mind in his presence, renderring you deaf and numb to your own thoughts. Not to mention his words, their poison failing to fill your absent body as you often lost the thread of the conversation. A lopsided grin curled his lips whenever you found yourself confused and unable to answer his simplest of questions, yet again, your thoughts a molten and twisted mass. You knew no end to his teasing for your frivoulness that he elicited from you with naught but a look.

Who were you, compared to the War Chief Yeager? Neither wits nor status was on your side to rebuke his taunts. Courage was failing you, fleeing at the mere sight of the red gracing his left arm. Retaliatory jabs never landed, the harsh words melted at the tip of your tongue before ever reaching him. How he reveled in seeing you like this, feeble and helpless. Just some stupid Eldian girl, that's what you were in his eyes. Unfit to be by his side.

And yet, he yearned for it nonetheless. Otherwise there was no other explaination to the slight arrogance bleeding into the way he spoke to you, leaving no other interpretation but that of a hunter taunting a mortally wounded beast. A whim, display of power, oversaturated and evident.

Occasionally he would condescend to your polite and humble requests, presenting them in a way that painted him as virtuous, as if you should be overflowing with gratitude and praises for his mere consideration of your proposals. He, however, never stooped to an open request himself, whether it be willful ignorance or inability to put thoughs into words. In such cases you were left to rely blindly on your own insight, forced to navigate through the murky water of his genuine intentions.

But witnessing this facade of complacency that masked his features most of the time disappear never failed to amuse you. How easily it could be shattered with a simle act — merely increasing the distance between you by a few steps during your routine strolls or better yet vanishing entirely from his line of sight amidst the crowd. That's all it took for the cold arrogance to crumble away and give way to a barely palpable unrest as he sought to bridge the unfavourably long gap that had grown between you unbeknownst to him. Not too close, though, being wary of avoiding the contact between your bodies.

The game he played to you was cruel yet he persisted in subjecting you to it, time after time. The true nature of his motives eluded you. The shadow of pleasure he took in poisoning your thoughts was hard to deny. Until he inhibits you whole, there would be no stopping to the suffocating hold over you. You were keep falling victim of this, though, the torment gnawing at your body and mind.

His unbroken gaze was the image etched in your memory for eternity. As well as the burning need to keep you near, by his side. Like you not staying at his apartment for the night could cost him his sleep. Like not laying his eyes one you could cost him his peace.

He remained oblivious to the fact that you noticed all of this. How could he possibly entertain those suspicions? A stupid Eldian girl would never. And still...

His gait lacked definition for someone who got the military drills beaten into him from the young age. Strange — even the deepest of thoughts usually failed to lure out a reaction from his body. Always static and phlegmatical, now he paced up and down the room, forgetting you were here in this room with him altogether.

With quick glances, you attempted to read his expression whenever he would pass your form curled up on the couch, and all in vain. His features remained an unpenetrable mask robbed of any emotion. Maybe it was the coffee. Shifting your gaze to the table covered with dirty mugs, your assumption had some reasoning behind it but you quickly brushed it off. He'd been like that long before resorting to the caffein.

Hesitation coursed through your every movement as you struggled to come up with a proper reaction. As intriguing as it was to find out what exactly had been plaguing the mind of steadfast War Chief, you couldn't muster up the insolence of striking up a conversation first. Who were you to inquire, anyway.

"One could hear your thoughts from a mile away."

His voice shook the cushioned silence of the room, bearing the same shadow of amusement he usually graced your way, as if the last hours weren't filled with restless pacing. Looking up to meet his gaze, a spark of amusement melted the cold of his eyes. The chance to divert his churning thoughts towards such a trivial remark seemed to bring him a little relief.

He prompted you with a quirk of his brow. "Speak what is it you have on your mind, or else you might burst."

There was that grin again, dark and painting his features in shadows. You shifted on the couch, nails digging into the flesh of your palm. At this point, each word you were going to say hardly veiled any obscurity since he'd already knew the nature of her question. He liked being proven right.

"Nothing really," your voice lacked the lively rebuke that usually sounded in your constant bickering back and forth, his unrest had seemed to rub off onto you as well. "You just seem off."

Your overtly careful choice of words elicited his soft chuckle. For a few moments he looked down on you, pondering just how much of information he should tell you. If he should tell you. After all, it was the knowledge not meant for the likes of you, civilians.

The light-hearted tone of his voice bore a stark contrast to the atmosphere and the words he was saying. "They're sending me to the island." His lips pressed into a thin bloodless line once he fell silent, his unbroken gaze on your face.

A deep line etched between your eyebrows. Still puzzled, you looked up at him searching for some sort of visual purchase.

The island of devils — any warrior would be elated at the prospect of proving their worth to Marley in battling the spawns of Paradis. Yet this sense of pride never captivated Zeke. More than anything, frustration seemed to have bled into his fair features.

Question, perhaps stupid in its naivete, plagued you so you let it leap off of your tongue. "Is this good or bad news?"

"And what do you think?" He retorted, pained playfullness still lingering in his voice. "When you send four Titans to an important mission and this is followed by five years of silence, how good can those news be?"

The air in the room became thick with smoke and smell of tobacco — Zeke must've lit a cigarette without you noticing. Your nose wrinkling, you slid to the other side of the couch where the gray thick cloud couldn't reach you. Uncanny thoughts soon started festering in your mind.

You cringed at your own way of thinking yet you couldn't help but to ask once more. "Are you—" unflattering crack snaked its way into your voice. "Is it going to be for a long time?"

He must've found your seeming worry endearing. His shoulders trembled in a fit of silent laughter, taking amusement in you. Like a pet who suddenly pulled a trick unbefitting of their intelligence. Artificial light cast dark shadows on his face as he neared the kitchen table, taking a sip from one of the half-empty mugs.

"I can only imagine." He stole a gaze at you, eager to capture the row of fleeting emotion painting your features. "Those four must've done a gravely mistake and now fear to face the punishment or died a long time ago. Now they expect me to clean up after them." Benevolent grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Warrior children, what a joke to Marley's army."

You shunned the way you had received the news. The insolence to fear, to assume the worst when you'd come to imagine him away on his mission was unacceptable of you, stupid Eldian girl. Your mind shouldn't be a harbor for such doubts. Zeke Yeager is a powerful warrior, the strongest in the unit. The red armband akin to the blood he'd spilt as an honorary Marleyan, a testament to hsi long service for the country. The island devils would be a little challenge for someone like him as his strength a prowess doomed him to imminent success. Your eyelashes fluttered as you sought solace in embrace of your arms, hiding your face in between your knees, away from his piercing stare. And yet you had the worries and you let them slowly eat away at you.

A temper tantrum would hardly influence Marley's decision and rid you of your predicament, but it didn't make you backtrack on your blind desire nonetheless. And he'd be thrilled to see your tears, especially if he was the cause of them.

Solitude started to weigh over your head like a dark stormy cloud. To be apart for such a long time rang so foreign to you. Foreign and cruel. Being at Yeager's side bore its benefits which you didn't hesitate to reap and now that the threat of those upsides being ripped away from you hung in the air, you felt... annoyed. You smiled to yourself at the fact that you'd finally been able to pin down your emotion. Annoyed sounded about right. And nothing else.

Noticing your downcast look, he decided to seal off your state with another barbed remark. "Spare Liberio your distraught sentiments. You weren't supposed to know about this in the first place. And I'd like to keep it that way in the eyes of the other people."

The ice in his gaze was persistent as he locked eyes with you. Not persistent enough to prevent the lopsided grin from twisting your lips.

In a fit of distorted glee, you inquired, your voice barely above whisper, "Why did you tell me about this then?" The words dripped with a mix of curiosity and spite, as if you had unraveled a hidden agenda beneath his carefully constructed facade. Your eyes bore into his, searching for a glimpse of vulnerability or truth amidst the web of deceit that surrounded him.

He was never easy to nail down so you didn't believe your luck when you caught a glimpse of emotion, as weak and light as the candle's flame, flicker in his eyes. And you didn't care for the nature of it — be it the amazement at the precision of your question or the anger with your insolence — it pleased you as long as it wasn't the usual cold spite. You found comfort in the knowledge that he, just like you, may be subservient to something other than his logic. That you're not the only one affected by the news of departure. The satisfaction was short-lived though as his features quickly acquired the same expression as before, a blank canvas you couldn't read.

The nicotine must've cleared his senses seeing as he scoffed at you in a condescending rebuke. "So that you won't make any fuss once you find the house empty." His hand reached to rest under your chin but you didn't accept the gesture, turning your head the other way. Stubborn behavior befitting the image of a stupid Eldian girl he painted you as in his mind. "It's still very much a secret mission so only limited number of people are allowed to know."

His touch rejected, he returned to the table, from which he continued keeping his unwavering gaze on you.

Did his remark suggest that his family was included in this selected group? Meaning, he went out of his way just to tell you? And for what? For you not to worry? Watching him form the corner of your eye, you couldn't help but to adore the stark discrepancy between his words and actions.

"I'll consider this your act of courtesy towards me." You shot back meekly, the tone of your voice suddenly growing more humble. At least you would have the satisfaction of having last word even if it meant resorting to your obsequious self.

Now, after a cigarette or two, he appeared utterly unfazed as if he weren't gambling with his own life by venturing onto the island of devils. When it came to his life, he never seemed to hold it at great value. You were the one to do it in his stead.

Curiosity took the better of you as you turned your head to face him, a hint of concern seeping through your facade. "How dangerous will it be? If the other Warriors had been on the island for five years, then those devils must be strong enough to pose a threat." You couldn't help but shudder at the thought of the mission potentially stretching beyond five years for Zeke. As capable and talented as he was, five years to his life were something that he just didn't have.

Zeke leaned back in his chair, the lazy twirling of smoke rising up out of his cigarette in contrast to the sharpness of the sneer that quickly appeared in the depths of his eyes. "For someone so uninvolved in the military campagns of Marley you seem to have too many questions about this mission. What's with the constant inquiries?" His words dripping with misleading benevolence.

His question momentarily silenced the room, knocking the air out of your lungs. Perhaps you indeed asked too many questions for someone of your station, someone who's supposed to be in a strictly comradely relationship with Zeke. You felt the tension growing more palpable the longer you kept him waiting. The glint in his eyes spoke volumes, a mix of amusement and knowing, hinting at the fact that he'd already got himself a satisfactory answer to his own inquiry. Part of you sensed that he'd guessed it right.

Nonetheless, you rushed to state the opposite in a futile attempt to undermine his own conclusion. "I think it's only logical of any Eldian to take interest in this mission." You pursed your lips before speaking again, feeling how artificial your words sounded leaping off your tongue. "The fate of the whole world depends on its outcome, does it not?"

At this point you'd grown too weary of him, his presence already intoxicating as it is. Why'd he brought you into his house? Just to tell you about his leave, take joy in seeing you shedding a shred of worry towards him but to mock you later for expressing those? Your drilled, bordering on automatic, response didn't win any favour with him yet managed to amuse him to some extent, evident in the way a mischevious grin split his face as he stood up from his chair.

His steps rang louder and louder with him approaching the couch you were sitting on. You let out a relieved sigh, cradling the hope that he'll finally grant you with leave, having had his share of playing games with you.

His eyes told otherwise. "No." He simply shook his head, denying you the last opportunity to leave his house. "I'll argue that there's more to it."

With that, his voice took on more sweetness that he usually allowed himself whilst talking to you which surprised you. At this point of your conversation he'd usually stoop down to tasteful taunts, a stark contrast to the moderation he was currently excercising, making your mind teem with thoughts.

"All the correspondence is forbidden for the Marleyan warriors whilst on the mission. Were you aware of that?" Still lacking a full comprehension of his motives, you nodded your head, your eyes big and doe-like. Nonetheless, he accepted your curt response, elusive benevolence seeping through his features. "Not if it's meant for the close family members, though. Also honorary Marleyans, like me. On that front Marley had been exceptionally allowing."

Again with the obscureness, as if expressing his thoughts in straight sentences would rob him of his last breath. Still, you continued to look at him, your eyes fixated on the enigma that was the fleeting chain of emotions lacing his features. The tips of your ears burning, the supressed frustration at having to sit here and listen to him welled up inside you. His monologue had just took off yet he was already dousing you with mental excercises you were unwilling to solve at this late hour.

Feather-light touch grazed against your temple, his fingers tucking an unruly strand behind your ear, bringing you back to the sound of his musings. "Wouldn't you be worried not knowing about my whereabouts on the Paradis?"

You rushed to deny his groundless assumptions but you found your lips too heavy to utter a word. Thus, he continued, a sliver of benevolent amusement in his tone. "Who knows, perhaps I would be captured or even killed and you would have no idea of my fate?"

The words sounded strange coming from him. He never paid any mind to the morbid consequences that may happen to him whilst on a mission and now that he was shedding light to it in front of you, it filled you with more confusion.

Still, you leaned in closer, intrigued by this newly discovered oddity of his, wanting to her what else he had to say.

"Aren't you?" He called out to you yet there wasn't a hint of condescention to his voice. As if he genuinely took interest in your answer, waiting for you to respond.

And you did answer, with a shallow "yes" whispered in the room. Usually you refrained from such vulnerability as this was often followed with barbed taunts, punishing you for the display of affection to someone as unfeasible as him. But this time, he seemed to had welcomed it.

The spark in his eyes was warm, an exception of his facade you rarely got to see. "Well, I just might help you to get rid of your worries. Would you like that?" You let him touch under your chin, lifting your gaze to see his.

In that moment, the fog of confusion clouding your mind began to lift, revealing glimpses of his true nature. Your eyes widened in surprise as you finally captured what was lurking behind the blue irises. He captured your gaze, too, as well as the sudden recognition, hence the smile, soft and warm, melting the curve of his lips as he opened his mouth to speak. You didn't have to listen to him to know what he was about to say yet it didn't substract from the surrealism of the situation.

"Be my wife."

Out of all the blows, this was by far the most cruel and perverted. The idea seemed too far-fetched, too out of reach for it to have any meaning behind it. You had grown accustomed to his teasing, his banter and the way he seemed to enjoy keeping you on your toes. Can this be another one of his games? Another way to rattle your composure?

Your gaze quickly turned skeptical. You couldn't risk remaining vulnerable in his presence and at this moment. You kept waiting for the mask of pretense to slide right off his face, for him to announce that he had indeed tried to trick you. Yet it stayed all the same, as if the expression was genuine, eyes brimming with inviting warmth like before. Still, doubt lingered within you.

Why should this day be a precedence? An upcoming operation on Paradis couldn't possibly cause this shift inside him. He'd been on other missions before and never before had his unwavering level-headedness left him.

He is not to be trusted. The words that were still echoing in your head are not to be trusted. The mantra sealing your lips, you tried to ward off the terrible temptation to give into what he was saying. He wouldn't hesitate to drag you through the mud if he finds out that you'd fallen prey to his words.

"You can't mean that." It was your final verdict. If he wasn't the one to aknowledge it then you had to be.

The smile on his lips gave way to a lopsided grin, as if your response didn't come as surprise to him. So it had been a game after all, you mused as you allowed yourself a mental praise for your own foresight.

"But I can." The rebuke remaining soft, he kept looking at you, waiting for your eyes to meet again.

It was of no use to you, though. All that you would see in the icy pools would be either that inviting warmth again or a blind wall. And neither of those would cast any light on what had been truly driving his actions all along.

The air felt silent and still. This — all of this — wasn't happenning to you. No night being spent at his house, no awkward pause between you two, no twisted words of proposal. It was all too much for the likes of you, common Eldian girl.

Regardless of your thoughts, he rushed to crush them, bringing you to the undeniable and inevitable reality.

He called out to you again, "So what?" the grin that seemed to appear on his features so often suddenly faded. "Will you be my wife?" You could only chuckle at his courtesy to having finally asked you, instead of bluntly stating his wishes.

With that, he sanked down on the sofa cushions, sitting next to her. The knowledge of his taunts, sometimes ruthless in their nature, implored you to momentarily refrain from answering his question and allowing him to continue, instead. The sincerity had no place in the words he was directing towards you. His statements were not to be held at face value, you had to remind yourself.

Nevertheless, you succumbed to the temptation that had been gnawing at you for a long time as you let your head fall onto his shoulder, the precise movement leaving no room for interpretation of your intentionall gesture. He would be hardly angry with you for such a display of weakness. Quite on the contrary, as your begrudgent vulnerability flattered him immensly.

The weight of the gone day suddenly crushed over you in waves, robbing you of any strength. "A lovely young captain's wife." The saccharine in his tone started to taste bitter. "Mrs. Yeager who would wait for her husband to return from military operations, her body and and soul devoted to him only. Who would meet me with joy and every evening after a working day take off my boots for me."

Wrinkling your nose, you otherwise didn't let your momentary disgust become apparent to him via your posture.

Alerted by your silence, he turned his head in your direction. His breath, hot and tart with tobacco, seared your face. "What do you say?"

Wife. The time had long come for you to forget this word. At this moment and in your position, it was an unthinkable thing for you. Who were you in comparison to the prized asset that Zeke was to the country? He was also no exception, even if the red armband signified otherwise. Bound by his service to Marley, he would never be allowed to dedicate even a sliver of his attention to something not pertaining to his warrior duty.

But on rare occasions you granted yourself the indulgence but also the freedom to your own dreams and you intended to do it today as well. Even if it was the first time for you to voice your hidden desires to someone else, let alone someone who figured in your dreams so often.

The warmth slid along her thigh where he ran his palm across your skin in a thoughtless caress, his touch radiating with heat. Just as thoughtlessly, you caught his movement, taking two of his fingers into your palm.

Being an Eldian in an internment zone, your fate had been sealed long ago yet you found comfort in the knowledge. With your future set in stone, you had all the freedom to fantasize about your chimerical impossible life.

Soon enough you started speaking, your words bearing the same bliss that his were. "Then your huge bath would be all mine and I would bathe in it every day. Definitely with bubbles. And you wouldn't be able to tell me anything against it."

Your ears caught a faint chuckle escaping his lips, accompanied by a subtle exhale.

The prospect of sharing a life with the captain held an irresistible allure. Despite all the taunts lacing his words, a grain of truth resonated within them. This was perhaps the best outcome an Eldian from the internment zone such as yourself could ever hope for. A sharp-tongued and occasionally unbearable husband aside, the advantages of such a union far outweighed the disadvatages. As the capitan of the warrior unit, his duties would often take him outside of Liberio, leaving you to revel in the opulence of your home for many days and even weeks to come.

Contrary to his words though, you would hardly harbour any sentiments over him not being by your side as he had teasingly described to you. Your heart would be unlikely to languish in lamenting the frequent separation, seeing as the luxury of your home would occupy your whole mind, sparing not a single thought for your warrior husband. Even in your sweetest dreams the love that typically exists between the spouses was conspicuously absent in your marriage. Such an emotion was barred for the two of you, as you remained essentially strangers to one another.

Your eyes dropped to the entanglement of your fingers from which he was in no hurry to free himself.

You started to forget yourself, as the most sincere of words weighed heavy on the tip of your tongue. "But also the coffee that you would brew every morning. I really like it."

His lips momentarily twitched, as if your timid praide had either amused or touched him.

A casual impudence found its way into his retort. "Oh no. After I get married I won't go into the kitchen at all so it will all be the responsibility of Mrs. Yeager." He dragged out the last words a little. "I don't want a wife who can't even make me coffee."

The warmth of his body enveloping you, you pulled your knees to your chest and settled into the comfort of your position. Usually, neither of you was insolent enough to seek proximity in each other's presence in this way. Besides sex, your bodies rarely touched, but at this moment it was all too tempting to mind your self-restraint. And yet, your move didn't provoke irritation in him. Instead, it seemed to have awakened a temporary surge of affection within him. He even opened his arms wider, as if embracing you more deeply. However, you couldn't ignore the subtle stiffness in his gestures, a reminder of the hopeless underlying truth about your relationship. You two were far from being a married couple and the likelihood of you ever becoming spouses seemed increasingly remote.

Possible or not, the illusion was sweet enough to numb the cynicism of your predicament.

Yet another breath of his scorched the shell of your ear. "But will you teach me? How to make coffee?" Your inquiry laced with naive politeness, you smiled as you felt his chest, a barely audible hum rumbling the air. "Will my husband have any other expectations of his poor tireless wife?"

In a feigned attempt to challenge him, your palm closed around his fingers even tighter, as if she wanted to attract even more of his attention to her.

This ploy of yours appeared to be succesfull, seeing as his hold of you grew closer. "Your husband would like you to spoil him with your cooking every day." He said with a soft chuckle. "Not that I have tried your food but that is all trivial. My regeneration can withstand the effects of any poison so your cooking would hardly deal any damage to me, no matter how disgusting it may be."

You fell silent at the lack of a proper rebuke, letting yourself get lost in this moment that you doubted you would see again any time soon.

And you were proven right. Just as you began to embrace the newfound comfort of your position, your hopes to have this moment last a bit longer were swiftly shattered. The warmth in his voice dissipated, replaced by a chilling tone as he leaned in to whisper into your ear. "Why deceive yourself?" His words dripped with cold determination. "I know all too well why someone like you would like to meddle with someone like me."

With no further explanation, he presented you with his armband, bright red fabric carelessly thrown onto your hand. The shift in his disposition was so sudden that you took a second to even register the feel of rough cloth against the skin of your palm. Disturbed by the intrusive nature of his inquiry, you tried to pry yourself away from him yet he didn't let you, his fingers finding their place under your chin to turn your face to him. The pools of his blue eyes were colder than ever, studying your expression, not losing sight of each fleeting emotion painting your features, as if the silent observation would provide him with more answers instead of just asking you directly.

Yet you didn't feel fear. In all the time that you had known each other, he never gave you the reason to be afraid around him. This surely had to be attributed to his charms since his each action, no matter how twisted or condescending, held a certain allure over you. Even now as you were pinned down in your place and forced to continuosly look back at him, all you could feel was frustration welling up inside you.

Your exasparetion started to overflow, evident in the way your brows knitted together. "You're hurting my neck," you voiced your discontent in a soft manner, only to be met with his unamuzed gaze.

He only got closer to you, your bodies pressing up against each other, his lips so near to yours that your mouth began to water at the bitter taste of tobacco dancing on your tongue.

Your protests were heeded, and he released his hold on your chin, seemingly satisfied with gazing at you. Another whisper, hot and sibilant, flowed into your ear. "It was hard not to notice, you stared at it too often." Instinctively, your hand tightened its grip on the red fabric, drawing it closer to your chest. "But I can understand your fascination with that thing. What is it that you want exactly?"

Considering all his past actions, his question sounded almost too caring, too soft and too thoughtful for someone like him. Were you a bit more perceptive in that moment, perhaps you would have been touched by his genuine interest but instead you couldn't help but to feel exposed. Maybe you did stare at it too much, as hardly a conversation with him went by without your excessive attention being drawn to some piece of fabric instead of the person it belonged to. You hoped that he hadn't been awake during the nights when you dared to harbor enough insolence to take the armband from his nightstand and pose with it in front of the mirror, the reflections of you with a red ring circling your left arm looking so dreamy and beautiful.

Hardly any Eldian in the internment zone didn't want to be an honorary Marleyan, and you were no exception. In fact, you were the most trivial showcase of this bold desire. It can give you a better life and safety and freedom, most of all. Freedom to go beyond the stone walls of the internment zone, even if for just a while.

In all your life you never came to think that the armband could be attained through the means Zeke had proposed to you not so long ago.

You were thankful to him for still keeping his composure. At least one of you had to. "So what is it? Everything, I assume?" You felt his breath hitch as soon as you answered with a curt nod. "Then everything it is. And I will give it to you."

The right words were coming hard to you yet you couldn't wait any longer to voice them. Pulling away, you finally put some distance between you two, finally free from his suffocating warmth. "Are you hearing yourself right now?"

Your attempts to reason with him were quickly put to rest with a single gaze he graced your way. The intensity in his eyes made your words falter on your lips, as a knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Right now, each of my word has weight so listen to me while I'm still talking."

Surprisingly, it worked. But it wasn't for his concise argument but rather the oddly familiar expression in the depths of his eyes. As you gazed deeper into those pools of blue, you saw a reflection of your own yearnings, a crack in his flawless facade. A pained smile bent your lips as you reveled in the realization that Zeke had given way to the same sentiments as you. And you thought once that he was insusceptible to this. A dark chuckle escaping your lips, the gravity of your predicament started to set in. Fools, both of you.

In a haste you took off his glasses before kissing him. You didn't want the metal frame to poke you in the eye again should the angle be not right.

His lips felt dry against yours, the tart taste of tobacco doing little to prevent you from sliding your tongue into his mouth. He smiled into the kiss as he felt you settling back into his embrace, the cushions collapsing under the collective weight of your bodies.

Your aggressive initiative was a welcome dynamic, with you quickly straddling his lap as he was left to take in the feel of your body. The coil in your stomach began to wind up with each painstakingly slow movement of your hips. The sloppy sounds of kissing rang loud in the room, interrupted only with your breathy whimpers whenever you grazed your sweet spot.

It took him all his strength to pull away, fake and long-soiled paragon of self-restraint lacing his tone when he spoke to you. "The couch would be too narrow for this." The voice barely above whisper.

With that, he grabbed you under your knees, drawing your legs closer to his body for a better purchase. Instinctively, you wrapped your hands around his neck and leaned into his chest so you wouldn't fall when he picked you up. His fingers sank into the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he carried you into the bedroom, your body barely a burden for him. A curt laughter rose from your chest and got lost in the tussels of his fair hair. You hadn't thought him to be so strong outside of his Titan form.

The springs of the mattress wailed as he let go of you, initiating your short fall. He looked down on you, his movements suddenly lacking resolve but his eyes still transfixed on your form. Reluctant to give any more thought to the ponderings teeming his mind, you didn't intend on waiting idly for him to join you. In the growing heat of the room your clothes became a nuisance, just another one of the barriers standing between you two.

Your fingers untypically spry for the state that you were in, you reached for the rows of buttons on your clothes, unburdening yourself layer by layer all the while watching him watch you.

Evidently, the sight of your naked form helped him come to his senses quickly as he stepped closer to the edge of the bed. In a bout of anticipation coursing through your veins you extended your arms towards him in an alluring invitation, starving to taste the tobacco on your tongue again.

All the same dark grin of his told otherwise. Instead of granting you the satisfaction of having his mouth on yours, he grabbed the hold of your hips to flip you over, tight grip sure to leave marks on the skin in the morning to come.

His weight came crushing over you, knocking the air out of your lungs and pinning you in place. Although he was using both of his hands to support his body, with each at the either side of you, it brought you little relief.

"Like I was saying," his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, you felt as if the reverberations of his voice reached your brain. "Marley allowing me to marry is more real than you think. Don't think they would refuse their most valuable asset in such a trivial matter. Maybe I'll even start winning more wars for them."

Your mind refused to give any more attention to his words, demanding a tangible satisfaction instead. You tried to arch your back in hopes that the sudden contact of your pelvises would make him forget his musings, forcing him to stoop down to the same level that you found yourself on, but it was all futile. Under the immense pressure your lower torso was rendered immobile, as if fused with the plush mass of the mattress.

The skin on your shoulder tingled with faint prickles where he rested his chin. "The armband, as significant as it may seem, is not the solution to each of your problem in the internment zone. A glorified scrap of fabric signifying that you're just a bit less miserable than all the others, that's what it is, really." he spoke, his voice tainted with sullen knowledge.

You absolutely hated how he remained so stationary while in arguably the most compromised position and how you lacked the power to change it. "Then why are you willing to go through the trouble of giving me one?" You hissed into the cradle of your palms, tone brimming with impotent dissatisfaction.

The next moment you felt him grabbing a fistful of your hair, with a violent tug forcing your head to turn to the side, your neck almost snapping from the sheer power of the motion. You were met with his gaze, angry yet at the same time seemingly insulted by your insolence to question his motives again. You responded in kind, your eyes watching his lips in anticipation of yet another one of his countless self-serving musings to be voiced. But you didn't hear any. He let go of your hair just as suddenly, nudging you to face away from him.

Sitting up straight, his body weight shifted towards your thighs as he was straddling them. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his shirt falling to the ground. The sound of the belt buckle coming unfastened was the next thing you heard, the soft clang of the metal clasp filling you with thrill.

His hand snaked its way to your abdomen, pressing against the small of the belly to make you raise your hips and you felt happy to oblige, displaying yourself nicely to him. His touch lingered on you for quite some time after that as both of his hands traveled to the back your thighs, absentmindedly caressing the supple flesh in lazy broad strokes. A surge of goosebumps cascaded across your body, each wave driven not only by his scorching touch but also by a sudden flash of realization.

He must have noticed how shamelessly wet you were. The positioning of your hips left barely any room for his imagination and presented him with the delectable view of your slit, slick covered and pulsing with heat. Exasperated, you bit down on your lower lip to supress a desperate moan all the while he took his sweet fucking time to revel in the way your cunt flutterd around nothing begging to be filled. As much as you wanted to feel him inside you, you kept your pleas to yourself, left solely at the mercy of his self-restraint which you hoped had started to diminish already. You'd rather die than make your weakness for him known again, as if your body wasn't enough of an indicator already.

Eternity might have passed but he eventually moved, shifting some of his weight back onto his arms as he mounted you.

You couldn't help but gasp at the way your walls enveloped him, struggling to take his girth at first. A drawn-out raspy fuck emitted from his chest once he entered you, his motion slow yet persistent as he slid his cock deeper inside you. Careful not to harm you, he halted whenever your breaths became too shallow and frantic from the stinging of the stretch, not moving any further without your leave.

Minutes later you felt him reach the deepest part of your cunt, the immense pressure from his continuous thrust built at the bottom of your stomach, so unbearable that it rendered all the other sensations non-existent. There was no way he couldn't feel your body tensing up below him. Nonetheless, he kept on pushing, as if trying to break you. Even as you tried to get away from the uncomfortable feeling, he stopped you, putting his palms over yours as another way to pin you down. The weight of the pressure bore down on you relentlessly, within mere seconds, tears began to bead on your lashline, threatening to cascase down your cheeks and fall onto the sheets.

The skin of your nape grew hot where he doused it in kisses. Twisted sense of comfort welled up inside of you in hopes that his caresses, so out-of-place yet so warranted, would at the very least provide some relief to you. It seemed that he would persist until you fully succumb to him. A whispered praise poured into your ear once all the struggle left your body and your flesh became pliable to him.

Only then did he back down. Letting you catch your breath as one of his hands traced its way to your face, brushing a strand aside to get a better look of your eyes glistening with tears.

Little did you know that it would be the final act of gentleness he bestowed upon you for a long time, leaving you yearning for more. You didn't even had the time to savour it as he set a new unforgiving pace.

Beyond the tingling sensation of his cock dragging against your walls in a brutalizing manner, sharp hissing grazed your ear. "Why in hell would I go through the trouble of giving you one," he tantalised, each of his thrusts only adding to the mockery. "So you won't forget that you're mine while I'm be away".

"Mine and safe," he murmured then, confident that you won't hear him.

It wasn't his voice. It sounded so unlike him in this moment, frail and vulnerable, but you were the only people in the room so it must've been him.

A jolt of pleasure railed through your body with the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over again, driving you wild. Your pleasure became apparent to him as well, his motions gaining more precision to increase the blissful sensation for you.

Struggling to form words you nonetheless tried to, your lips and tongue heavy. "So this is what comes with being your wife?" You couldn't believe the tenderness lacing your tone at this moment. The sentiments were a cruel thing, not something you were supposed to have towards him, nor he towards you.

His reply was overtly eager, as he leaned closer to you, your bodies pressing together almost seamlessly. "Pretty much," his voice rang in your ear. "You must admit that you're very fortunate."

You craned your neck to face him, curiosity sparkling in your eyes. Taking in your alluring look, he couldn't resist the glowing skin of your shoulders, so transfixed on tasting the salt of your sweat on his lips that he ground to a halt inside you.

All you could do was rile him up even further, a chuckle escaping your lips. "Oh yes, the prospect of having you cater to my every whim sounds like a remarkably enticing endeavor on my side."

As your words hung in the air, a mischievous glint danced in your eyes, reveling in the effect they had on him. The corners of his mouth curled into a sly grin, mirroring your own playful demeanor and growing heavy with somber tone. With that, his hold on you became tighter, his hand groping at the fat of your thighs.

His hips snapped against yours with such a force that you nearly mewled, feeling the reverberations of his thrust echoing throughout your body. "Enjoying it while you can." His voice dropped to a low, husky timbre, tinged with a hint of challenge and sneer. "You've got only five years left for that."

This level-headed bordering on indifferent demeanor in a blind disregard of his own words struck a nerve with you. You gulped some air, desperate to conceal the outburst within you.

You wished he hadn't remind you of the imminent futility of your secret musings. You wished he would just carry on with pounding into your leaking heat with no thought to it. As he moved inside you, sinking his cock inch by delicious inch, the pleasure of it faded even if your own body continued having visceral reaction to the process, your gummy fluttering around his girth. Now, only lament had residence in your mind. If it wasn't for your unfortunate fate of having been born as Eldians, perhaps you could have a chance at a normal life. Without the constant thoughts of him slipping away.

His resolve undying, he pressed your body deeper into the mattress, the pressure of his hands driving the air out of your lungs all the while his cock kept winding the coil in the pit of your stomach.

"Widowhood would suit you so good."

His voice remained just as mocking as before, as if the life that was put on the clock wasn't his. You, on the other hand, were precisely the one not entertaining such remarks. "Tell me." You could barely make out the words amongst the squelching sounds. "Tell me, will you mourn me? Funeral would be hard to organize, admittedly, with no body left for you to bury, but-"

You rushed to hide your face in the sheets. You heard enough. You didn't want to hear anymore of his taunts.

The words still reached your ear. "Will you cry for me like a good wife should for her husband?" He came to a halt deep inside you yet again, ready to break you should you not answer. "I've never seen those eyes cry before. So will you or will you not?"

The satisfaction wouldn't come so easily to him as you remained motionless under him. Only your shoulders quivered with subtle tremors, betraying the hidden distress that stirred within you. As simple thing such as breathing brought you a lot of struggle so you could only hope that your poise would last through all of this.

"It's not like I've taken your tongue away," he mocked.

A gesture of feigned compassion, you felt his fingers card through your hair, lulling you into false sense of security in hopes of luring out a desired reaction out of you. The sweet tone of his voice came off as cruel and mocking as he coaxed you for an answer, his fingers toying with your clit only adding to the torture.

Sick twisted pleasure, that's what he was getting from all of this. Your answer to his inquiries evident to him, he nonetheless wanted to hear it falling from your lips, dry and bitten at.

Yet, when he spoke again, his voice shed all its malice, barren as it trembled slightly. "At least remember me after I'm gone, would you do that for me?" He called out your name and it sounded vulnerable coming from him, his tone etching deep within your memory.

With a lump forming in your throat, you struggled to find your voice as well as enough air to form a response. There was no purchase for your mind as a scorching wave of orgasm coursed through your body, your face contourting in pleasure and your cunt squeezing in around him. With that, the last bit of poise left you and you broke down completely.

"Yes!" you pushed past your lips, hot tears streaming down your cheeks and your shoulders shaking with each sob.

In this moment you suddenly grew unaware of your surroundings, deaf to his whispers pouring into the ear and numb to the tingling stretch of your core as he was chasing his own high.

The skin of your inner thighs soiled with his seed, you would normally rush to the bathroom to wash away the stench of sex but this time you thought against it, curling up on the bed instead once he rolled off of you. Only now you began to feel the weight of your confession. Why did it have to be you alone to crack under the surge of sentiments that held immense power over you?

He decided to stay in bed as well, watching you struggle to come to terms with what you had just said, complacent grin plastered across his face. Evidently, you made him very happy this night.

"When are you leaving?" you asked in a raspy voice, watching him as he watched you in the enveloping darkness.

His fingers reached for a stray strand, sliding it behind your ear. His tone was thick with mindless glee. "In a couple of weeks, plenty of time for me to convince Marley to green light the marriage." The kiss he left on your lips acquired a bitter taste with time. "What will you say?" At the lack of suitable words, you just nodded dumbly.

He is not to be trusted.

There's a deceit lacing his each word.

But as you gazed deeper into his eyes, glinting in the dark shroud of the night, you let him deceive you yet again.

(phew)

[rescue-ram]

Losing myself in ideal post-war outcomes for MASH characters daydreams

Hawkeye and Trapper start an air ambulance and trauma surgery clinic

Ho-Jon takes over Daniel's general practice and helps his family resettle in Maine

Me Lay Marston has two sons- Ezekiel Bradbury Marston VI ("Mutta" in Japanese, Zeke for short) and Ezekiel Bradbury Marston II ("Jiro" in Japanese, Izzy for short)

Oliver is head of neurological surgery department in San Francisco hospital

BJ has very comfortable general surgeon position at that same hospital and spends a lot of time with his family

Margaret is a nursing professor

Charles never quite gets that chief surgeon position he covets but is extremely well respected in his field and a part time professor at Harvard Medical School.

Radar writes his memoirs and becomes a modestly successful author.

Klinger and Soon-Li hustle about 12 different businesses in Toledo, gets up to lots of antics to keep everything afloat, and he helps dozens of draft dodgers during Vietnam

Potter retires and cherishes Sophie and other horses; his grandkids come up for the weekend often to ride with him

Frank joins a commune and works in a free health clinic

[arminsumi]

hiii ^^ (It’s me again, sorry that I’m writting so many request but the way you wirte is something)

so, i have been thinking if you could wirte pt.2 for ,,Marley’s Guaradian” — and if you dont have any ideas, honestly I have one — so basically Armin brought reader to the aircraft, and Levi is obviously upset with him. while they are having a little argument, where Armin tries to explain Why did he brought someone so dangerous here, reader tries to knock out Eren, since he has the Founding titan, and Marleyan Army wants it back, Armin obviously stop reader before anything serious happens + reader finds out about Zeke’s betrayal

sorry if It’s too much, i’m sending you virtual cup of motivation and thumbs up for whatever you are working on! take care and dont push yourself too much!

p.s. i wirte the request again beacuse something went down with my Tumblr — if you see another one from my acc with the same text you can ignore it, beacuse i dont know if i actually sent it ^^

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Marley's Guardian Ⅱ

Armin x fem!reader / part Ⅰ

Overview; Armin brought you back to the airship and you found out the truth about your War Chief.

Content; drama, angst, canon!au, Marleyan!reader, switching sides (obeying Armin's commands)

Warnings; S4 spoilers!!! mild violence (hair pulling, Levi giving verbal threats, reader scratching Eren and drawing blood), profanity, S4 Sasha scene, total cliffhanger ending because i'm mean lol

Note; ah dw i love to receive your requests! actually i originally planned to write about armin bringing Y/n back to the airship, but i wasn't sure on the length so i just deleted like two paragraphs' worth of content 😂💀 also SRRY IF THIS IS AGONIZINGLY LONG but i had too much fun writing it while listening to the most dramatic aot ost lol

Armin's hands were trembling.

"You brought their god damn dog on board? Are you trying to kill us, Armin?!" Levi spat.

"Sir — " Armin choked. " — sir, I couldn't leave her to die. I'll accept the consequences for anything that happens from here — could... could you please stop holding her by the hair?" he asked nervously.

Levi's eyes became slitted with anger as they flitted between you and the blond, bloodied soldier. It required incredible strength to fight an Ackerman as a sword-wielding combatant, but with words it required an otherworldly courage.

"Sure." he said slowly, dangerously, and hauled your weight by the hair — a searing pain spread across your scalp.

Everything was a bit blurry, but you felt cool wind brush your face. You were high up... up in the sky? The Scout's airship door was slid open, turbulent airflow filled the gondola. You were forced into a kneel at the edge, too weak to fight back yet Levi still held apprehension in his chest because of you.

"Shall I let her hair go now?" Levi asked sarcastically.

"No!"

You saw Armin's eyes glaze over with fear, you heard him babbling desperately to his captain.

"If I toss her off this airship right now, I will sleep soundly tonight."

"Captain! Please hear me out!" Armin exclaimed desperately. "It would be senseless murder, she's no longer hostile! Like I said earlier, she could have killed me, but she didn't!"

A long silence ensued after his words, one impenetrably thick and jarringly apprehensive.

"Captain..." Armin's voice weakly punctured the silence. He sounded like he was using the last of his strained vocal chords to plead with Levi.

"She's their weapon. Don't mistake her docile behavior for surrender, Armin, she's just out of ammo after fighting."

"Captain."

"She's their weapon." Levi repeated through gritted teeth, "Unless you intend to keep her as such, I'm kicking her off right now."

Armin's mind buzzed for solutions as the longest silence yet ensued.

"C — can we bring her to Commander Hange first?" Armin asked.

After a small moment of begging, another silence ensued, one broken by the harsh and grating sound of your whimper as Levi flung your body in the opposite direction of the airship's exit.

Without regard for his comrade's bewildered stares, Armin rushed to you. "Are you okay?" he asked. The smallest head tilt from you was enough to settle Armin's high-strung nerves.

Levi let out a forfeiting sigh, "Sleep is for the wicked..." he grumbled under his breath. "Alright, let's take her to Hange and that mutt. Mikasa, come with us."

Now, you were supposed to be at your weakest — or so that's what Levi and Armin and the rest of their comrades in the gondola thought.

But when the door leading into the airship's control slid open to reveal Eren Jaeger, you lunged for him like a dragon.

Though he had quick reaction time, you clawed at him much faster than he could shield his face, resulting in three stripes of red across his cheek. He bore a grimace of wolf-like canines.

It required both Levi and Mikasa to restrain you while you thrashed around, but they didn't have to for long.

In your fit of blinded vengeance, you didn't notice a very familiar face sitting besides the owner of the Founding titan, whose hurt face healed over, whisps of steam rising out from your claw marks until they disappeared entirely.

"Stand down, Y/n." Zeke's voice penetrated the atmosphere.

You looked at him wide-eyed, utterly shaken.

"... War Chief?" you croaked confusedly.

But your confusion dissipated at once. Understanding dawned on your face, causing your features to be dragged down.

"Treacherous bastard!" you screamed piercingly, Armin winced. "I once revered you! Bastard! Bastard!"

You ran your foul mouth on the War Chief, calling him audacious, calling him vermin, calling him a lot of things until the atmosphere felt aflame; Armin stepped in with a voice smooth like flowing rivers.

"Stand down, Y/n." he commanded simply, and you obeyed like a dog. He knew something very important about you that you weren't even fully aware of.

See, when you bore witness to your War Chief's treachery, these invisible threads keeping you sewn to his command snapped. Armin could tell, so he played a little experiment, sort of like throwing a stray dog a bone — to see if it would go for it.

It surprised everyone else to see you cease at once after Armin told you to. His blue eyes brought a calming sensation over you. When you looked into them, it felt like you were being stared at by an angel, although that was laughably ironic, considering what people called Eldians in Marley.

"Commander Hange, I have a proposal to make." Armin stood to his superior confidently, while Hange willingly listened.

The air in the airship's gondola shook with celebratory roars from the Eldian soldiers, Floch at the center causing it all.

But packed away into the quiet area were Jean, Connie and Sasha.

"Like hell she's on our side... I'm sleeping with not just one eye open, but two eyes open 'till we get back on solid land." Connie huffed.

Jean looked over at him, "Connie... that just means you won't be sleeping, if you have two eyes open you're awake." he sighed at his friend's stupidity.

"I know! It was a joke — " he began, "Anyways. No one trusts that reaper, so why does Armin?"

Jean shrugged.

"I think she may genuinely be on our side." Sasha chimed, her tone lighthearted for the fact it was a very wild situation. The enemy who had slain countless people in the Eldian army was on their side?

"Seriously?!" Connie began argumentatively.

The door slid open. Jean's eyes spotted you as soon as you emerged.

You squeezed into the celebrating crowd of Eldian soldiers, without Armin by your side. In the other room, unbeknownst to the others, he was previously wiping blood off of your cheek with his handkerchief. He reared his pretty blue eyes at you, and softly commanded that you wait for him in the other room.

Now he remained in the control room, discussing the future with Hange and Levi, while you tried to discretely blend in with everyone else.

"Heya, nice 't have ya on our side." Sasha greeted you.

Because Floch flashed a hostile look your way, you decided to stay with these three.

The conversation staggered due to your blunt responses. But it ceased completely in a moment, a quick yet slow moment.

Your keen senses felt someone clamber onboard the airship, and your lightning reflexes shielded Sasha from taking her fated gunshot wound to the chest.

BANG

Wispy fumes curled up out of the shotgun's muzzle. At the end of the gun's neck was none other than your little sister, Gabi.

🏷️; @chuuyasballz

[sailorspica]

had the warrior program continued the stagger between shifter terms would have been so weird thanks to marcel and ymir and tbh grisha, start years as of the end the RtS arc:

beast (ksaver -> zeke): 842

armored, female, most likely cart: 844? i think, could also be 845 but we don't know when they were all on that campaign where they wiped out a country

attack and founder (grisha -> eren): 845

jaws (ymir -> porco) and colossal (bertie -> armin): 850

warhammer: ????

so the overlap between porco and zeke's terms would have only been five years(!!!); if colt inherits the beast, porco would work with him for longer than zeke, 7-8 years, and porco would be the weirdly oldest one of a batch of warriors who are mostly falbi's age which sounds.......... very lonely (@mochalate probably stuff you've thought of already), not as dramatic a gap as zeke's 8-9 years on RBA, but probably made more dramatic by the difference in their term starts moreso than their birth years, i'd see him and colt as war chief and vice war chief

even more implications and questions:

it may just be because we're with reiner and falbi for most of the marley arc, but no one seems concerned with "who will inherit the cart??" even though zeke, pieck, and reiner all inherited their titans within two years of each other

it's possible ymir and porco held the jaws for almost exactly the same length of time depending on what months we think RBA's attack on shiganshina and eren's attack on liberio take place

frieda also inherited the founder in 842 (snk 64), a point for the zeke-frieda parallels agenda @meare-hisu

[jikubodypillow]

It must be dehumanizing to be seen as everything other than yourself. Zeke's parents saw him as a savior of Eldia, Marley sees him as the assiduous "war-chief" (dumbass title btw)... even ksaver viewed him at an angle that wasn't scaled to how he truly is.

I believe that he did see Zeke as his own being, but I also believe that in the early development of their relationship, he didn't. And, i mean, he practically admitted that. He wasn't viewing zeke as he was, he was trying to find remnants of his dead son.

He doesn't have an identity of his own, really. He's kind of what everyone else wants him to be, may it be the savior of eldia or what have you, and that's really sad to me.

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

28 DAYS: CHAPTER TWO

*Spoiler alert: he's not.

Summary: Dean Winchester is an addict and an alcoholic, a USMC veteran, a father, and an older brother. As Battalion Chief with Lawrence Fire & Medical, Dean comes under investigation when he makes a dangerous and impulsive decision, defying his superiors and abandoning the team he is supposed to lead. He is given the choice to go to rehab for 28 days, or jail. His lawyer insists on rehab, and Dean begrudgingly abides.

Chapter characters: Dean Winchester, Nick (Iblis), Zeke Gadreel, Missouri Moseley, Jack Kline, Pamela Barnes, Gabriel, Crowley, Meg Masters, Rowena Macleod

Chapter tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY, references to sexual activity (everyone is 18), references to underage drug addiction and prostitution, Dean’s heading into withdrawal, he’s injured and unmedicated

Chapter WC: 3,200

Author’s notes: Sunrise Bay is the fictional soap opera in which Schitt’s Creek’s Moira Rose starred. I couldn’t resist giving it to Rowena.

I don't have ample words to thank @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker for their continued support and readings, but I will thank them and declare my undying love.

Text divider by @talesmaniac89

CHAPTER TWO

Dean’s chest is tight with panic. 

“It wasn’t my fault.”

John is furious, driving erratically, and hurling threats and accusations. 

“Of course, it’s your fault, Dean — you’re a man. Men don’t get to play innocent.”

If John had learned about Dean’s mushroom-enhanced threesome with Jamie and Carmen any other way than from Jamie’s pissed-off mom, he’d be slapping him on the back and handing him a beer for earning another couple of notches on his belt.

But nobody likes to be told they’re a shitty parent, especially not John Winchester.

“They were trippin’ and half-naked when I got there, I didn’t-”

“Gimme a break, kid. You went there to get high and get your dick wet. I was 18 once, too, ya know.”

Dean’s mind races as John speeds through town. “What about Sammy?” 

“What about him?! You gonna go home and tell him you got caught fuckin’ his English teacher’s daughter?! Ya think that’ll make him proud, somethin’ to live up to?!” 

John is roaring loud as he pulls into a parking spot in front of the USMC recruitment center. He kills the engine and turns to Dean, but Dean can’t look his dad in the eye.

John scoffs. “Don’t worry about Sammy, I think I can handle it.” 

Dean knows John can’t handle it. John doesn’t even know what time Sam’s school starts or how much money he needs for lunch. John barely even knows what day it is half the time.

Dean’s voice is quiet when he speaks. “They’ll send me to Afghanistan, Dad.” 

He’s afraid — for his own life and to leave his little brother behind. He doesn’t want to go to war, and he doesn’t want Sam to have to navigate his teenage years, dodging bullets from John. 

Dean doesn’t realize he’s crying until his tears drop to his hands in his lap. 

“Oh, man-the-fuck-up, Dean,” John growls, wrenching the door of the Impala open. “Let’s go!”

Twenty-four hours after waking up in the hospital with multiple injuries and the acrid contempt of his little brother, Dean is informed he’s being transferred to a rehab facility.

He isn’t allowed any real pain medication, and he’s riding a class VI hangover, even with fluids being pumped into his body. His head, shoulder, ribcage, and hips are throbbing. He’s starving, too, but he knows there’s no way in Hell he’d be able to keep any food down.

In the early afternoon, he’s escorted to Discharge by hospital security. He wishes he’d showered because his skin is itchy, and he knows he looks like hammered shit. When the guards walk him outside, he sees Nick and Zeke, waiting for him in Zeke’s 4Runner. 

“Fuck,” Dean mutters under his breath.

Sam undoubtedly hand-picked the Green Berets to transport Dean’s sorry ass to Kansas City. Not only do Nick and Zeke not give a single shit about other people’s drama, but they’re also brick fucking walls of defense.

The security guards disappear back inside the building, leaving Dean no other choice than to limp toward his former teammates. As he nears the vehicle, Nick climbs out of the passenger seat and opens the back door. 

Dean floats an attempt at good humor, which promptly falls flat on its face. 

“You two suck at Roshambo, or what?” 

Nick’s silent, answering smirk is devoid of any trace of mirth. 

Dean purses his lips and bobs his head before ducking to gingerly slide across the backseat next to his familiar duffle. He immediately pictures his Dopp kit inside the bag with his trusty bottle of pills. 

With the combination of his injuries, this epic fucking hangover, and his escorts’ chilly reception, he could really use a Vicodin or two right now, but Sam’s no idiot. He chose Nick and Zeke for more than their lack of investment in bullshit or their multiple factors of intimidation; Dean can only assume that everything in that bag has been thoroughly searched and stripped.

“D’you pack my SpongeBob toothbrush? It’s my fave.” Dean asks from the back as Zeke wordlessly pulls away from the curb. 

“Packed what was on the list and nothing that wasn’t, Chief,” Nick replies, confirming Dean’s suspicion. 

Dean nods, slipping his phone from his pocket to thumb out texts to Gordon and Lydia, letting them know where he’s going. He tells them both that he’ll be in touch soon, each for different reasons. Then finally, he pulls up a video game and slumps into the seat for the longest 50 minutes he’s ever endured.

The facility looks like a high school in a John Hughes movie, but with a bunch of weird-ass people standing around outside, hugging and singing and chanting. 

Dean rolls his eyes and hoists his bag onto his good shoulder with a wince. Every second of consciousness reminds him of broken bones, twisted ligaments, and fragments of self-loathing that thrive under his itching skin. The last thing he needs right now is a round of kumba-fucking-ya. 

He peeks over his shoulder to see Nick hanging out the window with a savage grin. “Go on.” He waves Dean off like he’s shooing a fly. “Have fun, and make lots of friends.” 

Dean scowls before turning back to face the entrance and trudging inside, careful not to move too fast. His hip is killing him even more than his slinged shoulder or his ribs, probably because he’s injured it twice before. Fidgeting in the backseat of Zeke’s ancient SUV for almost an hour didn’t exactly help.

Once the facility’s revolving door spits him inside the bright lobby, a warm, welcoming voice calls to him from the centered reception desk.

“Dean Winchester?”

The voice belongs to a pretty, middle-aged black woman in a nurse’s uniform, rounding the desk to greet him. He continues forward, eyeing her sideways. 

“Yes, ma’am?” He doesn’t know what he expected from rehab admittance, but kindness was not it.

“Sam called. Wanted to make sure you got in OK. Nice boy.” She looks him up and down, and her brow furrows. “Let’s get you checked in so you can get settled and rest up.” 

The warmth of her tone and gaze hug him like a thick, soft blanket.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean responds.

Her ID badge reads ‘Missouri’. Dean doesn’t know if that’s her name, or where she’s from, but it doesn’t matter much to him because she’s already soothed his senses more than anyone he’s spoken to in the last 36 hours.

“Come on, right in here,” she says, showing him to an open office space. 

Inside the room is a male orderly who helps Dean unload his bag before pulling it open and searching its contents.

“Not gonna find much more than Visine in there, buddy. Crocket and Tubbs already got to the good stuff.”

The orderly remains focused on his work, and Missouri focuses on Dean.

“You mind your manners, boy, and let him do his job,” she says. 

Dean drops his eyes to the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”

As the orderly continues his examination of Dean’s belongings, Missouri rattles off some basic rules.

“There’s no fraternizin’ with other patients, no phone calls ‘cept once a week for 10 minutes at a time...”

Dean nods along as she speaks. He flicks his gaze up to watch the orderly drop his iPhone, its charger, and his AirPods into a plastic bin, and Dean shakes his head but remains silent. When the orderly finds the Swiss Army knife Emma bought him last year for Father’s Day, his heart clenches in his chest. 

“You’ll get that back when you check out, Dean,” Missouri assures him, warmth seeping into her tone and eyes. “Now, just a quick pat down, and I’ll show ya to your room.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean nods. He’s relieved to realize that he likes Missouri. She’s a bright spot in this quagmire of misery he’s brought upon himself, and that’s a gift.

The orderly pats him down and checks his sling for anything else the place doesn't allow, and once he’s been stripped of all things sharp or shiny, Missouri leads him through the building, pointing out public sitting areas and restrooms. He’s fucking exhausted and beginning to suspect his hangover is actually withdrawal, which he’s been dreading since he woke up this morning.

Before long, Missouri pauses a few feet from a recreation room with several round table and chair sets, some mismatched lounge furniture, and finally, a single flat-screen TV on a low table. 

“Folks, this’s Dean Winchester,” Missouri says.

Dean takes note of three people piled onto a small couch, another guy next to them in a side chair, and two petite women settled on pillows facing the screen. Some Marvel movie is paused on the screen, by the balding man in the chair. 

“Pills,” he says with an accent, narrowing his gaze as the corner of his mouth twists upward.

Dean’s eyebrows and lips quirk.

“Hmm... sex and booze,” declares the tiny, familiar-looking redhead on the floor. She also has an accent, and Dean wonders where all these Brits are hiding in the middle of America.

“Sex and anything he can get his hands on,” says the bright-eyed brunette from the center of the couch. Her gaze sparkles and dances in a way that makes Dean instantly begin to calculate how to get around the no-fraternizing rule.

“You guys’re good,” he says.

The brunette rakes her appreciative gaze over Dean and licks her lips, as a goofy-looking blonde guy reaches across her to grab a large bowl full of popcorn from the lap of some floppy-haired kid.

“Well, kiddo, since your roommate’s here, I’ll take this off your hands. And, uhh, my money’s on coke,” says the blonde guy as he burrows back into his corner of the couch.

The kid brushes his hands along his thighs before standing and turning to face Dean and Missouri. As he approaches them, he holds up a single hand like he’s swearing to God.

“I’m Jack.” 

Dean darts his eyes to Missouri, who’s smiling reassuringly at the boy.

Dean wants to ask, what kind of crack therapy team thought it’d be a good idea to pair a literal fucking child up with the likes of himself? 

Instead, he waves back at the kid with a weak smile. 

It’s awkward, and Dean is far too undermedicated and stressed to have to deal with a kid. The anxiety makes his heart race and his stomach roil. 

“I can introduce him and show him to our room,” Jack offers with a blush.

Everything about this kid and this room and... everything is making Dean’s skin crawl.

“That’d be real helpful, Jack,” Missouri replies, then turns back to Dean. “This’s your roommate — Jack Kline.”

Dean glares at her before drawing a shallow breath. “Yes, ma’am. I gathered that.”

“I’ll head back to the desk, now,” Missouri says with a pointed look before walking away.

Jack motions toward the group and begins introducing everyone. 

“That’s Pamela,” he says, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Mother of two and meth addict. Next to her is Gabe. He’s a compulsive liar and gambler.”

Gabe salutes as he cheerfully munches popcorn with his mouth full. Dean shakes his head, amazed that Pamela and Gabe seem perfectly comfortable with this little shit airing their dirty laundry all over the rec room.

“Crowley’s on the end, in the chair,” Jack continues. “He’s an alcoholic, and usually very cranky — probably because he killed one of his patients—”

“That was two years ago, you twat,” Crowley drones with an eye roll back to the screen in front of him as he presses play.

“It’s part of your story,” Jack adds matter-of-factly before gesturing to the two women sitting on the floor with their backs against the couch. 

“Meg...” Jack says, and Meg waves. “...was a prostitute and heroin addict — like me.”

Dean’s heart jumps into his throat, and he thinks he might throw up right there. Jack can’t be a year older than Emma. He’s a fucking minor, for christ’s sake.

Meg throws Jack a wink before chiming in.  “I second Pamela’s bet — sex… and anything else he can find.”

Meg holds Dean’s gaze for several beats, and Dean feels like the air’s been sucked out of the room. The buzzing in his ears almost drowns out Jack’s last introduction until he hears something familiar.

“...a retired soap opera star and opioid addict—”

“Rowena Macleod,” Dean says with a small huffed laugh. “My, uhh...” He snaps a few times, shaking his head, trying to jog free fond memories from decades before. “My babysitter watched Sunrise Bay. You were amazing.”

“Ohh,” Rowena coos and Pamela chuckles as she nudges Rowena’s delicate shoulder with her toe.

“Seriously, so much of my childhood is wrapped up in those episodes.”

He remembers Spaghettios and hot dogs, animal crackers, and cherry Kool-aid. His babysitter used to paint his toenails, even though he’d make her take it off before John got home.

“Why thank you, darling,” Rowena preens. “‘Twas so long ago, I barely remember a thing anymore—”

“Might be the morphine,” Gabe mutters, and Pamela smacks the back of his head.

Rowena ignores them both in favor of reminding Jack to bring his “new friend” to dinner.

“Don’t forget, Jacky — four-thirty sharp.” She bats her eyelashes and fusses with her jewelry. 

Dean gives her a warm smile even though he feels hollowed-out, heavy and hot. His skin’s tight and prickly, yet he feels like he’s falling apart. He knows what’s happening, and he fucking hates that he can’t do a damn thing about it but get through it.

“Do you want to go get settled and cleaned up first?” Jack asks, startling Dean to attention.

Jack’s eyes are so wide and so blue, Dean thinks he might fall in and drown. He wants to fall in and drown. Anything but this.

Instead, he nods in answer and follows Jack to the staircase.

It isn’t long before they arrive at their room.

“Curfew is at 8 PM, but I usually read until Lights-Out at 10.” Jack stops in front of their open door, and Dean peeks inside.

The bare bed closest to the door holds a stack of folded bedding and a single pillow. The nightstand is donned with a non-descript lamp and a pad and paper.

“That’s me.” Jack motions to the far bed, which is neatly made with what appears to be a furry dragon dead center of his pillow. On that nightstand is a short stack of comic books and a bag of Milky Way candy bars.

Dean is sure he’s being Punk’d at this point.

“Nice dragon. What’re you, four years old?” Dean asks, pushing inside the room and dropping his duffle to the floor beside what is now his bed.

Jack stands in the hall with his furrowed brow. “I’m 17. And that’s a gryphon; dragons don’t have fur, Dean.”

Dean huffs an ironic, pained laugh and shakes his head before dropping his chin to his chest and letting his heavy eyelids close. 

“My bad,” he mutters, rubbing his burning eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his good hand.

Maybe if he goes to sleep, he’ll wake up, and this’ll all be over with. Maybe he can find someone somewhere in this place with something, anything, to put him to sleep so he can wake up without feeling like a bag full of broken glass.

“It’s OK,” Jack replies with a shrug as he wanders inside the room toward the toy in question. “Not a lot of people know what a gryphon is. They’re guardians of the divine. My mom bought it for me before I was born because she wanted me to always be safe. She died in childbirth, and I never knew my dad-”

“Kid,” Dean interrupts Jack’s monologue of fantastical tragedy. “Can we save the overshare for when I’ve had at least a few hours’ sleep and some food?”

Jack absently pets his stuffed guardian, curiously eyeing Dean. “Openness agitates you. I noticed downstairs that hearing everyone’s stories made you... uncomfortable.”

Dean scoffs. “Well... yeah. I don’t need to know everyone’s dirty little secrets — especially not on the first day.”

Jack shrugs, and Dean watches him carefully replace the plush toy atop his pillow. 

“You’ll get used to it. Honesty is the first step.” Jack looks up as he rounds the foot of Dean’s bed on his way back to the door with a wide, satisfied grin.

Judging by his posture and careful pronunciation of the word, Dean has a feeling that learning the importance of honesty was a big lesson for Jack. Dean isn’t ready for any lessons right now. 

“I’ll see you downstairs when you’re ready. Just follow the signs. The dining hall isn’t far.” 

Jack disappears out the door and around the corner, and Dean sighs with relief to finally be alone. 

As he unpacks his clothes and puts them in the dresser, he tries to ignore his runny nose and full-body chills. He distracts himself by wondering how long the kid’s been in this place, which leads to speculating what landed him here, and then he’s chewing the inside of his mouth bloody thinking about the fucking pieces of shit who sell dope to kids, and — worse — the kind of sickos who pay to touch them.

He slams his dresser drawer hard enough to rattle the mirror on the wall beside it, closes his eyes again, then inhales in through his nose and exhales out his mouth. 

Tessa, one of the nurse practitioners in the Medical division of the department, taught him breathing exercises. He went to see her under the pretense of managing work-related stress, but really he just wanted an in to meet the hot newbie. Turns out, Tessa isn’t just good-looking; she’s also great at her job because the stupid exercises work.

He and Tessa also talked about spirituality from time to time. She’s been trying to convince him for weeks that asking the universe for help doesn’t make him weak. He’s not so sure he agrees with her, but at this point, he’ll try anything to help him get through the next few weeks without losing his god damned mind.

“I feel... fucking ridiculous doing this,” he starts, quiet as a whisper. “But I’m fresh outta ideas.”

He breathes in deeply and out again, dismissing the sharp pain in his chest that every breath brings him, yet tears begin to flood his closed eyes. 

“C’mon, Dean, you got through two tours in Afghanistan, for fuck’s sake!” he berates himself.

Maybe the universe is punishing him for going overboard. Maybe if he promises to reel it in, he can do this without his usual vices to lean on and places to hide.

“Listen, I swear to dial it back when I get out. No more all-night parties, no more mixing- just, please. Gimme somethin’.” 

He sniffs and wipes his eyes, still shivering, cramping, and swallowing back bile, but at least he has a plan. 

“OK, you can do this,” he tells himself, grabbing his Dopp kit and heading to the bathroom for a hot shower.

As the steam from the shower fills the stall and he stands under the hot spray of water, he continues to tell himself that he can get through the next 28 days without imploding. 

Chapter 3

Please let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist

MJ's Masterlist

[dollwrites]

𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 — 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!marleyan!reader, obvious manipulation, reader definitely takes advantage of Reiner’s not so healthy mental state so dub con, mild angst, handjob, needy!sub!reiner, body worship, size kink, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ originally posted on 02.28.2023. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ perverted by elita

“What would you do for me?”

“Anything…” Reiner moaned, his hips jutting forward. you slide around on his lap, but you don’t mind. his face is buried between the open buttons of your uniform top, panting hot air against your cleavage. his tiers smear grateful kisses over the tops of your breasts, but he doesn’t dare reach to unclasp your bra without permission.

bring him back.

that had been what your superiors told you.

they could tell that the Armored Titan had changed; whether that meant he was slipping out of Marleyan control or had simply lost himself over the years he spent on Paradise Island, it didn’t matter to them. they’d sent you with Zeke, straight to where Reiner had been resting in the infirmary; the whole time you’d walked side by side with Zeke, you wondered how he could be okay with this.

how was it that he, like the Marleyans, didn’t mind playing mind games with his soldiers?

“He likes you.” Zeke had broken silence once the two of you were just outside the infirmary.

“You’re his War Chief,” you replied, looking away, “he would listen to you if you ordered him to. There’s no need to bring me into it.”

“He likes you.” Zeke repeated, taking a long drag off a cigarette, “Of course he’d listen to me, but he needs more than orders right now.” he’d given you a knowing look from beneath the rims of his glasses, staring down his nose at you. “I know you’ve done it before, when he first came home.”

your brows knit together, and you tried to glare at him, but in the end, your gaze fell to your own feet. “I told the general I didn’t want to do that anymore.” you grumble; that familiar, sick sensation twisting your stomach into knots. Reiner was a good man, if not a little misguided, and even though you knew that he must know that the Marleyan military uses you against him, that you only visited him, kissed him, slept with him because you had been ordered to do so, he didn’t seem to mind. you did, though. because you knew he deserved more.

you just couldn’t give it to him, and he wouldn’t seek it out on his own.

“With all due respect,” Zeke started in a low tone, “I don’t really give a damn what you think of me for bringing you here. If you think I’m wicked for toying with Reiner’s head, then you may be right.” you glare up at him, open your mouth to speak, but he’s no longer looking at you. “My Vice Chief is standing on a metaphorical ledge, and I don’t want to see him jump. If dangling your cunt in front of him will talk him down from it, then I’ll do that. If the general permits it, I’ll drag you to him whether you want to or not. I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you, kicking and screaming, to his bed every night if it will keep his head on straight.”

you could’ve slapped him— it was well within your ability to make his cheek burn red with the imprint of your hand, and even he wouldn’t have stopped you, but you don’t. something about the way he spoke, with the certainty he used, told you it didn’t matter how you protested. he and the general shared the same sentiments. they didn’t care how badly you messed Reiner up when you played with his heart; they only needed him to fight.

Pieck was waiting at the door, a lazy smile gracing her lips, and she waved you inside, leaning against one crutch. you pondered, for a moment, about telling Zeke how despicable he was. but, it would do no good. so, you simply trudged forward, slipping inside and allowed the Eldian girl to lead you to Reiner’s room.

to your duty.

“Anything?” you repeat, biting back a frown. you didn’t want him to see how much you loathed how easily he threw himself into the flames for you. your svelte digits caress the bulging veins on his cock in butterfly strokes. it stood straight up between your clothed bodies, swollen, jabbing at the air and the palm of your hand when you wrapped a fist around it, begging for attention from you. you tilt your head back and exhale when he sucks hard on your clavicle, both massive arms wrapped around your midsection and keeping you pulled tight against him. he was big, much bigger than you, and that always made you a little nervous. nervous that he might, one day, stop being so submissive. “Reiner—“ you breathe, unsteady, and he whimpers against your skin, rocking his hips more fervently now that you’ve called his name. he always loved the sound. “What would you do for me?” you repeat, the gentle pad of your thumb teasing his slit. precum frosts it, and the muscles in his arms draw taut.

“Fuck,” he slurs, dragging his open mouth over your breasts, his brows furrowed, “anything! I’d kill for you.” his breath is shaky as he lifts his head, his golden gaze desperate to meet yours. you avoid it, mostly, and stare at the dusky rose colored blush across his cheeks. “I—I’d die for you…” he moans, and you allow your hand to gather all of his essence and use it to ease the friction as your hand glides south, back down to squeeze the thick base. “If that’s what you want from me, I’ll do it, I will…”

“Sh, sh, sh…” you croon, filling your voice with as much honey as you could murmur, pursing your lips and pumping your fist in slow, firm strokes that had a sordid whine rumbling in his throat, “I don’t want you to die for me, Reiner. I want you to live for me. I want you to fight for me.”

he was nodding, leaning as close to your lips as he could, his own working to capture your couplet, even as you kept them just out of reach. to kiss him would only make lying to him harder, even if he wanted to live in the fantasy so badly. your pace quickens, only just, and his grip around your smaller frame tightens. “I will, I am.” you knew that, if he wanted to force you, it wouldn’t be difficult. he could easily overpower you, steal what he wanted ( which, right now was your kiss ), and you could do nothing to stop him. but he doesn’t. he begs you, just under his breath, moaning your name until you’re lightheaded. “Kiss me… please…” you knew he was close; he was throbbing in your hand, bucking his hips to hump the tight fist you used to jerk him off. he was going to cum, and he needed your kiss to push him over the edge.

“As soon as you promise me.” you urge, running your free hand up to grasp at his cropped, golden hair at the nape of his neck. you didn’t have to pull at it, he leaned back willingly, his lips leaving a peppering of needy, heated pecks over your jaw, as if pleading to be able to land one on your tiers. “Promise me you’ll fight for me.”

“Please…”

“Promise you’ll fight with me.”

“Fuck, p—please…”

“You won’t leave us.”

Reiner nodded to every syllable, his eyelids fluttering weak, but he managed to keep his eyes on you, sucking on your jawline, inching up, hopefully, to kiss at the side of your mouth. “I s—swear… I’ll fight for you. I’ll fight… I’ll do whatever you want, I’m yours to command… use me on the battlefield or off, I don’t care. Just please… kiss me!”

you shudder.

you were using him. he knew that. he was just too obsessed with you to care.

pumping harder, faster, you allow your lips to part, and a gentle tilt of your head towards him encourages his to find yours, as if rewarding him for being the most obedient toy soldier he could be. Reiner grunts and devours your mouth in hard, desperate kisses, locking you in place with his powerful biceps. you keep pumping, the other hand still buried in his hair as he comes undone, panting and rumbling a pathetic slew of thank yous into your cavern.

his head drops forward when he needs air, leaving you panting, too, and praises your soft breasts again. his tongue tracing what you thought might be his name as he snorts against them, glazing your hand and his twitching cock in the warm release that erupts in furious, little spurts. he’s still so pent up, even though you’d seen him a couple of months before, and you wonder if he ever slept with any other women.

or, did he always save himself for you?

“You’re good, Reiner.” you whisper, before you even realize you’ve done it, resting your chin on the crown of his head. carefully, you pet the damp tendrils back, and nibble on your lip. “So good.”

Reiner lets out a partial moan, but it’s mostly a heavy sigh of relief, before he nuzzles into your cleavage. “Don’t leave me yet.” he mutters, shifting underneath you. you move, too, slow to allow him to pick the position. he guides you on to your back, and lays against you, keeping his face buried in your heaving chest. he closes his eyes, breathing easier as you run your fingers through his hair. “You can sneak out later just, please wait until I’m asleep.”

[kaigarax]

Take 452

Or This is How to Over Come

Zeke Jaeger x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love by overcoming boundaries with another."

It is of the utmost importance, regardless of someone’s age, gender or race, to be excellent in at least one thing. One must not merely excel at this single task but be fundamentally better than anyone else within similar circumstances attempting to accomplish that very same task and in a location relative to yours.

Of course, this entire theory can be ultimately tossed out and entirely forsaken if one does not wish to become important (in any way whatsoever) and hopes to maintain an ordinary life. It should be noted that by choosing to ignore this most radical and sensible piece of advice you are outright denying oneself of all human pleasures that fall into either category of dreams or desires.

This piece is, of course, only one of seven different instructionals to help guide you into a world of excellence. One should hope to not just entertain themselves with these pieces of work but look to apply them into their everyday life. Once again, it should be noted that all pieces should be read and thought on for a maximum absorption of the materials.

Now, without further ado, this is how to over come.

---

Love, to Zeke Jaeger, has always felt like a foreign concept. Something that couldn’t be explained but simply understood by those it's shared between in that moment. And if love is something kept deep within the heart of those it is shared between then falling in love is the words whispered in the silence of night.

---

“Hands up,” you shouted, “get into your ready stances, everyone.”

Zeke was surprised at how quickly you had taken to training the Cadets. It seemed almost like second nature to you when you began. As if falling back into an old habit. You seemed to know everything, from which technique each Cadet would be best in to little quirks each one had while training.

It was good.

Most of the training, at least when they were cadets, had been taught by your father (the former Crystal Titan Shifter). It seemed more than fitting that you would be the one to take his place.

It also meant that Zeke wouldn’t have to train them himself. Not that he couldn’t, of course, but one less thing on his plate was one more minute of being relaxed.

You walk around the Cadets, correcting their forms every once and awhile before allowing them to begin again. The length of the fights, depending on the skill difference between the Cadets, range from just a moment to a good few minutes. The most interesting fight happens between a red haired girl and a blonde boy.

Your own gaze lingers on that specific fight longer than any of the others.

But not for long.

Your eyes never stay on a single thing for very long. At least not without you getting that dazed look. That strange expression that most children (though you’re eighteen) don’t get. It’s an expression that reminds Zeke of your father. As if you’re looking off into the distance. In another world that he can only seek to be a part of. Not that he wants to be in that weird dream world of yours but sometimes one can’t help but wonder.

Does that look have something to do with your family line? The way you were raised? Or perhaps Titan Shifting abilities? Zeke would bet on the latter of the three options.

“War Chief,” you smile when you spot him, though your eyes don’t meet with his own, “here to help the Cadets with training?”

Zeke shakes his head, “just here to… inspect the future prospects.”

“Oh? And has anyone caught your interest?” You ask, a sparkle in your eyes.

“No.”

“Really,” you sigh, though you don’t seem all that dejected, “that’s a shame. I guess we can’t find a genius every generation.”

Zeke smirks, “perhaps it’s the fault of the teacher.”

If you’re insulted you don’t show it. Unphased. As if you were expecting an insult of the sort. But Zeke expects such a reaction from you. It’s rare that something phases you, though not for lack of trying on his part. You’re just that kinda person, he presumes.

Well, he can’t exactly claim that’s who you were but it certainly is who you are now. It’s a shame he didn’t know you very well before the initial transformation. Not that he would have cared to have known an eight year old. But it would have been interesting to have compared who you were then to who you are now.

“Gather up, Cadets.” You call.

The class scrambles to stand in an orderly formation.

You grin, “Our War Chief here has just agreed to help us with some training.”

“Really?” Asked the Cadets.

“Really?” Zeke asked.

“Of course~” You smile, “so you’ve all gotten the chance to fight someone around your size but on a real battlefield most of the people you face will be larger, faster and stronger than you.”

“Are we going to fight the War Chief?” Asked the red haired girl.

“No Emanon,” you laugh, “you’re all going to fight me. But first, I will be showing you how to take out a larger opponent. The War Chief is here to help me demonstrate.”

Zeke swallowed.

He isn’t usually one to play around with your shenanigans, Pieck does enough of that for all the Warriors, but the large doe-like eyes of the kids staring up at him seem to move his cold dead heart. Sure, he doesn't even like kids all that much but something about showing them how to fight lights a fire in his soul.

That or he’s too scared to actually move.

He’s seen what you can do with crystal outside of your titan he definitely doesn't want to be on the receiving end.

Zeke turns to you, trying his best to muster up whatever baseless confidence he’ll need, “and how do you plan to show that to the Cadets, (L/n)?”

“Don’t worry, War Chief,” you smile, your eyes meeting with his own, “I’ll surprise you.” You lower yourself to the ground and hold your arms in a fighting position of some sort.

Huh.

Zeke isn’t familiar with this one. Being a Warrior, he obviously sparred with you before and seen you spar with others but this particular form surprises him. Puts him on guard so he isn’t charging in immediately.

“Why have I chosen this starting formation?” You ask.

“To make use of the ground?” Asks one Cadet.

Another shake raises their hand, “to better gauge your opponent?”

“Both wrong.” You exclaimed. Zeke takes this moment to make the first attack, aiming to grapple you to the ground. You seemed to have predicted that as you swiftly take a step to the side, use Zeke’s momentum to push him further aside. “Emanon!”

“Yes?” Chirps the red haired girl.

Zeke manages to keep himself from falling over into the dirt. You don’t seem very keen to give him a moment of rest as you’re immediately running towards him, closing the distance and aiming a kick towards his upper body.

He brings an arm up to protect his torso.

“Why do you think this is the best form we should take?” You ask, suddenly dropping lower and kicking Zeke’s legs rather than his upper torso.

“To make it harder for him to hit you?” Asks the blonde girl.

“Partial points.” You say, having forced Zeke to the ground, “Grice.”

“There’s less surface area.” The blonde boy from earlier answers, “because you’re smaller there’s less area for him to target, especially when you make yourself smaller.”

Dazed from trying to keep up with the conversation and from your constant barrage of attacks Zeke suddenly finds himself laying on the ground, you standing above him dusting the dirt off your pants.

You flashed Zeke a smirk, “good explanation, Grice.”

The blonde boy smiles brightly, “thank you Miss. (L/n).”

You hold out a hand for Zeke to take, an offer of peace and an attempt to help him up, but he declines. Not while a large majority of the Cadets are snickering about it. Damn him and his pride.

“Now, who wants to try first?” You ask.

---

Defeat becomes him, or at least that was what Commander Magath said when he entered the dining hall that evening. Zeke had mentally prepared for some ridicule (the entire Cadet class was there and they definitely couldn’t keep a secret if their life depended on it) but Commander Magath teasing him was a level of low even he hadn’t prepared for.

Commander Magath rarely ever told jokes and when he did it was even rarer for the mess hall to burst out into laughter along with him. Sure, it was common for Pieck or Porco to crack a joke or two at his expense. Even you joined in on the fun every once awhile. But everyone? It truly was an all time low.

And Zeke was in no mood to deal with such… nonsense.

So, he escaped to the only place he thought best.

The swings in the middle of nowhere.

Well, they weren’t exactly in the middle of nowhere but it was he and the other Cadets had called it when they were younger. A playground made in the middle of the training center for the Cadets. It was just an old wooden swing set surrounded by a small pile of sand but it had meant everything to the Cadets when they were young.

It’s long forgotten by now. Nothing but a memory. So Zeke finds himself surprised when he spots you swinging there alone seemingly lost in another memory.

You look pretty under the moonlight. Huh, he doesn't ever think he’s ever realised how pretty you were. He supposes it was never something that crossed his mind when he was young.

“Oh, Jaeger,” you don’t bother looking up at him, instead continuing to swing your feet back and forth, “what’re you doing here?”

Zeke takes the swing beside you, “needed somewhere to hide. It seems word of today’s training sessions has made its way through the barracks.”

You smile, “it could be worse.”

“How so?”

“You could’ve lost to Galliard.”

“Hah!” Zeke chuckles, “as if I’d ever lose to Galliard.”

“Oh, you definitely would lose.” You pause briefly, “no Titans abilities, of course.”

“What?” Zeke frowns. He hadn’t lost a hand to hand fight since he was a Cadet… until today.

“Galliards better at hand to hand combat than I am - and we all saw how easily I beat you today.”

“Last time Galliard and I spared I was the clear victor.”

“That was two years ago, Jaeger. Back when Galliard and I were still scrawny little teens. We’ve both grown since then. You don’t have the same advantages of being fully developed over us now.”

“Two years ago already…” Zeke trails off.

He can barely believe it’s been so long. It feels like just days ago he was just a Cadet getting chased around by the others for any bit of information they might be able to get to string themselves higher in the considerations of being a Warrior. He, of course, knew that you’d obviously get in. Nepotism was always a guaranteed way of making it in. Then Pieck and Annie, the smartest of the bunch. The Galliard brothers, both witty and strong hearted. The Hoover boy. The only one he hadn’t guessed making it was Braun, though his determination was something that did catch his attention.

“23.”

“Hm?” Zeke perks his head up.

“You’re 23, right?” You asked.

At first Zeke thinks he should mock you. Tease you about forgetting his age but he thinks twice about that. Age is a difficult thing to talk about with women and sure you’re still young but he certainly doesn't want to get a lecture about something stupid like that. So, Zeke simply nods.

“23 years old, huh? Time really does fly by now doesn't it? My dad was 24 years old when he had me.” You smile teasingly, “are you planning on having kids any time soon?”

Zeke reels back, scrunching his nose in disgust, “oh God no.”

You laugh, “didn’t think so.”

“Children are loud, needy, and uncontrollable. Conniving schemers.”

“And you aren’t~”

“Touche.”

“I was just teasing,” you begin swinging your feet back and forth, “though only because I’m envious.”

Why - Zeke doesn't ask, but you answer anyways.

“I’ll never reach the age of 23.” You say, your voice suddenly more present than Zeke can ever recall, “forced into this endless cycle of death and inheriting. Inheriting contracts, Titans and wills.”

“Wills?”

“Everything you are, everything you would be and everything you will be is the cumulation of all the previous shifters before and will pass onto the one that inherits your Titan next.” You flush, “sorry if that doesn't make any sense. It’s always been a little hard for me to gather my thoughts together after so many years of being a Crystal Shifter.”

Zeke shrugs, “sounds kinda sad if you ask me.”

“Inherited wills or gathering thoughts?”

“Both, though mostly inherited wills.”

“How so?”

“Everything we are is simply who we were before us?”

“Not every shifter. Some with strong wills are able to hold onto themselves. Others-”

“Like you?”

“Yeah. Others, like me, tend to have our own feelings drowned out by the feelings of our predecessors.”

Zeke’s own swinging comes to a halt, “how come you’ve never told me this before?”

“Oh, I haven’t?”

“No.”

You shrug, “guess you just never gave me the chance to open up.”

“Well,” Zeke begins, “I don’t think you’re like your father.”

“Really?” You smile, “thank you.”

Zeke shrugs, looking away, his face tinged red, “it’s whatever.”

Your swinging comes to a halt, “say, Zeke?”

“Hm?”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“No.” He lied.

Love. Such a strange thing, especially now as Zeke Jaeger stares down at you. The girl he could never quite understand. Even now, he still isn’t sure exactly what you are. What he is certain of thought is you. How he feels about you beneath the stars in the middle of the night with bright and clear eyes. At least now, no matter how brief this moment was, she was here.

“Here.” You hold out a gold band.

“What’s this?”

“A bracelet I made. It reminded me of your eyes.”

“My eyes are blue.”

“I know.”

“Then why would you give this to me?”

“Because your eyes are like gold.”

Fall in love by overcoming boundaries with another.

[oxygenbefore1775]

I hc Zeke as a horrible war chief of the Warrior Unit. It's not that he doesn't do his job well — he's just not cut out for the management position and not exactly a paragon of leadership.

Zeke can't be bothered to do all the mundane tasks that his position implies such as writing reports and keeping records — there's much more fun stuff out there for him to do (like scheming behind Marley's back and preparing the execution of his plan).

So the people to whom Zeke would delegate those mundane tasks would be Reiner and Colt. Reiner — because he's Zeke's vice chief. Colt — since (according to Zeke) he has to gain experience and the hang of the bureaucratic stuff. But mostly Reiner has to do it — otherwise, if Zeke enlists Colt's help, it'd mean he would also have to stay up and actually put in effort by teaching Colt how to do everything properly.

I can imagine it — Reiner finishing up his tasks at the warrior HQ. Getting up ready to leave and spend yet another afternoon depressed when Zeke comes into his cabinet — in his hand a pile of papers and reports due tomorrow — plopping it on Reiner's desk. If Zeke feels like it, maybe he'll grant Reiner some half-assed explanation of things to be done and a request to do it in his stead. And then just leaves, not even waiting around if Reiner'll actually agree.

[mirrorsblogs]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐥. 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 (𝟐)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁

Lina arrived in Paradise years before any of the shifters did, she was a test experiment. Sent for a specific mission of analyzing the progress of those in the Walls. She had a sole purpose of being in the Walls, it was never supposed to be him, Levi.

“I’m sorry,” she would cry to his sleeping form after he was so exhausted he could only sleep. The guilt clawed at her insides like a dull parasite waiting to be hatched and evolved. Sometimes, to comfort herself, she would stay up the whole night and watch him sleep to make sure he stayed safe.

Like the biggest danger to him was not lying next to him.

“Why’re you still up?” He sleepily asked, pulling Lina closer to him.

“Couldn’t fall asleep,” she muttered. “Now I can.”

Levi laughed when she cuddled closer into him, his warmth enveloping her.

“Night, sunshine.” She stiffened in his grip at the pet name he used. His upbringing made him value what the surface offered, mainly the light. He was calling her what he valued most. She felt acidic internally, how could she put him through this?

“Night, Lee,” Lina murmured dutifully. 

I’m sorry , she would think when she made eye contact with him.

You deserve the world , she would think when he saved a slice of banana bread for her.

How did I do that to him , she thought when she stood on that wall looking down at his ailing form.

Lina took a small step forward, about to surge towards him and abandon her role, her purpose.

“Don’t,” Zeke commanded. “Think about your duty to your country.”

As if my every waking thought has not been about that.

“When’s the boat back?” Her voice was hoarse from crying previously. 

She rode atop Zeke’s shoulder in his titan form, forced to abandon the majority of her scout uniform safe for her basic blouse and slacks. For a minute moment, Lina turned to look at the fleeting Maria Reiner had toppled so many years ago.

Levi. He’s back there, fighting for everything he holds dear. That doesn’t include me anymore.

The ride back she stayed silent for the majority of it, avoiding War Chief Yeager’s questions on Paradisian society and politics. He was entirely uninformed and asked cringe-worthy questions about the world she had been immersed in.

“Do they hate themselves for being devils?”

“Is there brainwashing to believe otherwise?”

“Is there a hierarchy and class divide and can that be used as a weakness?”

On and on, hilarious questions were asked. Reiner was more forward about actually answering straightforwardly, he was exempt from the ‘rehabilitation’ program. His enthusiasm to return to Marley and clear outward disdain for Paradise made Command suspect him of being less likely to defect. After all, he only became the Armored Titan because of his faith in Marley.

“Who are you loyal to?” They asked periodically throughout the day, constantly preying on the lone fact that Lina had barely enough food and water to sustain any average thought. 

“Marley. I am loyal to Marley,” she sobbed over and over, desperate to be free of this cell so far beneath the surface. 

“Who is the enemy?”

“The island devils,” she said, the only acceptable answer her torturers accepted.

“And who are you?”

“A tool for Marley, a nameless soldier in the fight for good.”

 When she was released the first thing she relished in was the sunlight. She understood Levi craving it after being so deprived of it for so long. Levi. What would he be doing right now?

“Why can’t I make your afternoon tea, Lee?” She whined, trying to grab his stirring spoon which he expertly snatched away.

“You don’t make it right,” Levi said, looking up and finally meeting her pleading eyes.

“Harsh.”

“Accurate. Now go sit and I’ll have both of our tea ready, ok sunshine?”

“I’m not a child.” Levi stood still waiting for an appropriate answer. “Fine.”

She grazed the wide variety of tea flavors the markets of Liberio offered, it had tea leaves from all corners of the world. It never tasted the same no matter how she prepared it to how Levi made it. Always lacking the right thing.

“Wanna try?” A large clown said from behind Lina, she shirked away and glared at the man.

“Try that again and I stab you,” she said, harsher than she intended. Paradise had hardened her shell into something mainly impenetrable. 

“Sorry, miss.” The clown scurried away which made her laugh loudly. People stared but passed by quickly, they had all seen weirder.

She wandered further through the coastal market, trying to find a tea flavor she had not already tried. Her hand stopped on a batch of leaves, they looked similar to the ones in Levi’s cabinet, then again every batch looked similar.

“I’ll take this bag.” 

“That one, are you sure?” The stall worker asked.

“Yes, why?” Lina was tempted to drop the bag.

“It’s from an island near to Heaven, most people wouldn’t want it.”

“I’m not most people,” she said, passing coins to the worker.

“No, it appears not.” The worker grimly took the coin, pocketing it, and went off to help another customer. Lina sighed and continued walking further down the pier, failing to look ahead of her. Levi always said her head-

“Is your head up in the clouds?” Levi reprimanded, dusting his jacket off after colliding his body first with someone else. He looked up and blanched.

Shit , Levi thought.

Fuck, Lina thought.

“What are you-” She started yelling. Levi grabbed her upper arm and dragged her into a decrepit alleyway, some rats scurried away when they entered. He pushed her up against a brick wall, knife already at her throat though somewhat sheathed by his sleeve. “Levi, what are you doing here?”

“Why should I tell you, traitor?” She deserved that but it still hurt deep within her.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lina whispered, she dared to push the knife away gently. “I had to do it for my country.”

“Your country? Do you mean the one that oppresses you? You would choose this hell instead of me,” Levi hissed, pressing the knife back against her throat with a new vengeance. 

“If it were that simple I would have chosen you time and time again.”

“Why?” Levi felt his mind leave him and got a distant look in his eyes, Lina took full advantage and snatched the blade from out of his wrist. She used his heartbreak against him and pinned him to the opposite wall. 

“Levi-”

“Why isn’t it that simple?” He did not look surprised that his blade was stolen.

“If I betray you I betray myself. If I betray the Warriors, I betray my country.” Tears lined Lina’s eyes. “My country is very dear to me.”

Images of young warrior candidates flashed through her mind, all so little. She wanted to protect them even if it meant sacrificing her own happiness.

“Dearer than I?” Levi asked, his chest cracked open again. There was nothing left to pick, yet Lina found more things to take from him.

“No,” she gasped. “No, not dearer than you.”

“So what? You’ll kill me now?”

“You don’t think I will?” Lina raised her voice, digging her knife further into his neck, careful not to draw blood. “You wouldn’t be so unphased otherwise…well, I can kill you!”

“You deceived me, you lied to me-” Levi listed before he was rudely interrupted.

“I’m tired of listening to you drudge this up,” Lina whispered. 

“Then what are we fighting about?” Levi emphasized every word with a grit of his teeth, conscious of the persistent blade.

“You gave me your heart. You’d like me to hand it back to you, whole again so that you may finally spend an eternity without me.”

“I’ve had everything stolen from me, won’t you give me that small mercy?”

“Never.” Lina stepped away and removed the knife from his neck.

“I hate you,” Levi whispered again and again, pushing her into the wall. He whispered it against her lips, neck, and even her collarbone.

“I wish you did hate me. It would make this easier.”

Levi stayed silent, if he spoke it would ruin this perfect moment. He felt filled again, he could feel his own beating heart. He felt alive. This was profound, this was it.

“Go,” Lina pushed him away. “Go to your people. I’ll pretend I never saw you.”

“Come with me.” Levi extended his hand, the one he held the knife in previously. 

Lina looked at his hand longingly, desirable. She turned around and exited the alley on the other side, Levi stood there with his hand still outstretched.

Country first, everything else is second. He is second.

𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘰3

[104thsquadfam]

@hopeformankind​ continued form x

     Captured him? Reiner felt like he was being interrogated right now, he didn’t capture him! He wasn’t even aware they had taken a prisoner until Zeke casually brought the Commander over to him and Bertholdt....he wasn’t aware they were taking a prisoner so how should he know what the War chief wanted with him.

     “You don’t think I know that? The whole reason we came to this damn Island was to get the coordinate! So why the hell did Zeke even capture you?! To torment me!? Hell if I know! It’s not like I asked him to capture you, do you think I just missed you or something?” his head was spinning, even he was trying to make heads and tails of it....what did Zeke want with Commander Erwin?

     It had to be to lure the others back....though he would have taken a guess that they would have come anyways! The damn basement was over here, why wouldn’t they come ? It’s the one damn thing keeping the Survey Corp afloat, the only reason their regiment wasn’t disbanded....was because of the basement and what could be inside.

     .....Is Zeke messing with me? Does he resent me that much? Is he that disappointed that he thinks having Erwin around is amusing? And why me? Why ask me to watch him?

     “.....Stop....” the blond muttered repeatedly, staring down at the ground his eyes wide as he moved his hand to grip at his head, flinching only when he heard the other move and quickly regretted it as he made eye contact with his former Commander. For some reason....he couldn’t talk when he made eye contact with the other blond...why? What was it about them that just choked every word out of him? Why did his mind spin, thousands of words, memories of what he’d done and what he still needed to do....it was all to much, if he didn’t get away now he’d be driven insane....he’ll lose it.

     It...makes sense? What made sense? What was he talking about??

     “.....W-what....what do you....mean it makes sense?” he asked completely disoriented “ Nothing...nothing makes sense, what the hell do you mean it makes sense?! What do you know that I don’t? You think you can just read my mind by looking into my eyes?!” he snaps at Erwin clenching his fists so tight his knuckles pale, and his nails dig into the palm of his hands drawing blood.

[layingwithlay]

Zeke asking Reiner the most random questions about Eren pt2

Zeke: Ah Reiner, how are you?

Reiner: *looking skeptical* Why do you wanna know?

Zeke: can’t I be curious on the vice War chiefs life?

Reiner: i mean I suppose so-

Zeke: what was Erens mothers name?

Reiner: what???

Zeke: are you deaf or something?

Reiner: I can’t remember her name.. it was either Cassie or Darla

Zeke: hmmmmm Alright got it

Porco: *drinking his coffee*

Zeke: Hello Galliard

Porco: huh? Oh hey Zeke

Zeke: can I ask you a personal question?

Porco:…. Uh okay…

Zeke: is there anything A big brother could do to make thier little hate them forever? Please name said things.

Porco: leaving them behind, Sabotaging them to “help them” and disappearing without a single word.

Zeke: *Writing everything down while nodding*

Colt: you want me to promise you… that when i inherit the beast Titan, that I’ll watch your brothers back if I ever meet him?

Zeke: *Nods*

Colt: Eren Fucking Yeager

Zeke: his name is actually Eren Lotte Yeager-