𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: As Captain Levi's trusted Lieutenant, you'd done your best to assist in keeping his new squad's morale up during your stay deep within the forest. Guarding the Beast Titan's user, Zeke Jeager, for a month's time had taken its toll on you all—you didn't see the attack coming until it was too late. The squad's death, Zeke's escape and recapture, the explosion...everything happened too fast for you to react beyond shielding your beloved Captain. The next thing you knew, you'd taken the blow, leaving Levi to come to your rescue.
𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽: Themes of grief/loss, descriptions of injury/injury to reader, angst-to-fluff, language
𝓐/𝓝: I'm so sorry this request took so long to publish! I was really off my game for most of 2025 lol. But now that I'm in a better headspace (at the moment), I'm wanting to get back to pushing out requests! I'm pretty self-conscious of this one-
Once again, the writing got away from me; enjoy a 2.8k word count :/ Hope it ended up okay for you lovely!
~𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉~
Just as quickly as it had begun, the chaos came to an end.
Steam from decomposing titans rose up through the trees like tendrils of smoke, enough to nearly obscure your vision entirely—it dissipated all too soon, leaving you with a grim sight just a pace or two away from where you stood on tired legs.
Hadn't you, just a moment before, cautioned your Captain against this? It seemed your concern had gone unnoted, for there Levi was; kneeling onto the forest floor, inches away from the mangled and crumpling corpse of the Beast Titan, reduced to unconsciousness. In one hand he held aloof a thunder spear, curling with steam and dissipating blood—though, the majority of sticky crimson remained, and you had to glance away.
Zeke had fallen captive once more. What remained of him, at least.
Levi had wasted no time in dismembering the blond’s legs and tying back his wrists, but a cruel gleam remained in the Captain’s eyes—malice, rage, bloodlust…you knew he likely wouldn't listen to you now.
Not after what Zeke had done.
And in all honesty, you couldn't blame him.
It had been so quiet just this morning, another day of guard duty in the forest—where had the time gone? One moment, you'd been laying back in your hammock high above the campsite, on break from your “shift” of sorts. Down below you paced your comrades, speaking low or joking quietly. Others read or wrote, some slept or trained.
It had been almost peaceful, if one could call this duty such.
Captain Levi and his squad, yourself included, had been assigned to keep watch over the Beast Titan’s user, Zeke, for a month's time: a long, boring month of detaining a grown ass man within the forest far from the walls. While necessary, many complaints had arisen.
Boredom, homesickness, distrust…a whole plethora of reasons kept Levi’s new squad on edge.
As the Captain’s Lieutenant, you'd done your best to smooth over what you could. If not for them, then perhaps you’d subtract one more stressor from Levi’s long list.
So you’d hoped, anyways.
Even when your companions, and admittedly yourself, had grown restless after the second week, you’d all held out this long. The end had been near, with hopes to return to the walls. The whole ordeal had been stressful, but worth it in the end to see your squadmates lighten up.
Yet now…now, they were gone.
All of them, not a single soldier had been left alive.
They didn't get the chance to return home. To celebrate, to bond outside of duty.
Another squad, gone. Their bodies mutilated in titan form burned into your mind evermore.
All dead.
All but you and your Captain.
So many had been tricked by the enemy with tainted wine and restlessness—the thought made you ill.
You’d been offered a glass, and had declined. Had you accepted…
Levi’s frustrated grunt brought you back to the present and out of your thoughts. Turning to see what it was he was even doing, you froze.
“Captain, I’m serious; this might be too much…” You murmured, quick steps leading you forward to reach for the spear he aimed down at Zeke. But he was quicker, snatching it away from your outstretched hand. He’d had the end of the explosive pressed against the shifter’s abdomen, despite your earlier protests.
“It’ll keep him deterred from disobeying again, once the fur ball wakes up,” Levi scoffed, leveling you with the glare that hadn't left his face since the moment the battle started. You let your hand fall away from the thunder spear he gripped, and sighed.
This was reckless…
"And if he jolts anyways, pulling the wire…?”
“...He won't make it that far. I’ll be watching for the moment he wakes; he owes me a little chat.”
A sickening wet thud followed the moment he lunged forward, and once again you had to look away.
Tying the wire around Zeke’s neck, Levi continued to speak over his shoulder.
“Bet he wasn't counting on both our sobriety’s, the bastard. I…”
He paused, seeming to mull over his thoughts before continuing again, softer this time.
“I’m…glad you didn’t drink, brat.”
“So am I…” you replied meekly, keeping your gaze averted.
“We shouldn't have allowed–”
“Stop that.” Levi cut you off, tying the wire taught before coming to a stand.
“There was no ‘we’, it was me. I gave the okay, I cut them some slack—this is on me.”
He avoided your gaze as he looked around the disarrayed forest, scoffing under his breath. His expression slowly changed from anger to vulnerability, as if the guilt he felt was physically painful and heavy. You knew it was…
“...See if the carts are still intact, and if the horses back at camp are still tethered,’ Levi continued.
“We're taking Zeke to the interior.”
Hours passed by with nothing of interest to note as the horse trotted along the old dirt road.
The forest blurred by as you lost yourself to thought again, watching the horizon color vividly with the dipping sun.
Miraculously, you’d managed to locate a cart still intact, and a horse healthy enough to pull the weight. Levi had taken to placing Zeke upon the floor of the craft and carefully arranging his limp body while you kept a lookout, and then off you'd been.
Your Captain had been more quiet than usual, his gaze never wavering from the blond man at his feet. You hadn't pushed for conversation while you guided the horse’s direction from the front seat: there was nothing to say that hadn't already been felt.
Even as evening turned to night, and night into morning, the pace at which you traveled never slowed. Despite the rain soaking you to the bone, despite thirst and hunger, you carried on.
Chancing a glance back, you were surprised to catch Levi’s eye; the first he’d taken it off of Zeke in hours. He looked about to say something, but hesitated as a quiet murmur above the crash of rain caught both your attentions, and he held up a hand.
Then, and only then, did Levi signal you to pull the reins.
Slowing the horse’s gait, you swept your gaze to the floor of the cart, and cursed under your breath; he’d woken up.
Already Levi had tortured the man, taking out his frustrations after explaining his situation to him—you hadn't expected Zeke to gain consciousness so soon after having his regenerating legs so crudely amputated.
This time, Levi seemed more content to listen to Zeke’s inane rambling before physically lashing out. Even still, you chose this moment to quietly remind him of the time before he could.
“We’re nearly an hour out; it’s best we just keep moving.”
Levi cast you a look over his shoulder, but didn't comment. So, begrudgingly, you turned your attention back ahead and just listened to Zeke’s speech. In the midst of it, you heard Levi scoff.
“Look at that, your legs are growing back already…”
You turned just as he’d unsheathed his blade, but before he could raise it much higher, Zeke began to scream and thrash.
In the moment, you hardly registered what he was saying; because the instant Zeke jerked his head, you were on your feet.
“Cap-!” You started to scream, but already it was too late.
One moment, you felt the slick of rain water slowing your steps inside the cart, and the next you felt nothing at all. Nothing but a vague awareness to the sensation of weightlessness.
The grey skies overhead vanished from sight, the cool chill brought by the downpour warmed, and screams seem to just fade away in your ears. Even the explosion had seemed silent, despite seeing it happen for yourself.
You never registered hitting the ground, nor the sharp sting of injury–everything was blank.
Empty.
Quiet…then still.
The moment you regained consciousness, panic overtook your mind.
Up above you saw a canopy of leaves, swaying in the breeze and bouncing under pelting rain–when had the sky darkened? How long had your eyes been closed?
Where were you? Where was the field, and the burning cart?
Levi…
You hastily swiveled your gaze this way and that, but only saw half of what you expected to; in the way that only one of your eyes seemed to obey your will to open.
A scratchy material itched your face in many places, leaving you feeling a sense of dread.
Who had bandaged your face? What was your condition?
Though, when you attempted to raise a hand up to your face to inspect the covering, you found your arm felt heavy like lead.
Everything felt like lead.
Heavy, bruised, achy, sharp and painful…The explosion, you recalled.
Had you shielded Levi enough?
What became of Zeke?
Where had you ended up?
Why was it so…cold?
All these silent questions swirling around your head only worsened the ache behind your eyes. This wouldn't do…
Sheer determination helped you sit up, despite your brain screaming at you to stay laid down.
The second you did, a firm hand gripped your shoulder, making you gasp.
Levi sat at your side, eyes wide like he hadn't expected you to be awake yet. But upon giving you a once over, he visibly relaxed, though his scowl returned.
“...We never left the forest,” he mumbled, as if he’d heard your silent question. His voice was rough, like he hadn't used it in a while.
Reaching up to adjust the cloak haphazardly thrown over your abdomen, he scoffed.
“...How are you feeling?”
Despite the myriad of thoughts swimming around your head, you finally found your voice–scratchy, quiet, hoarse. Your words came out in a hazy ramble.
“Shitty. Cold, sore, weird–but Zeke, he-”
Levi raised a hand, cutting you off.
“Got away. I got distracted, and…dammit, you paid the price for that.”
His look concerned you enough to sit up a bit straighter, and immediately he tensed like he might reach out to grip your shoulder again.
“Dont,” he warned, short and simple.
With a huff you leaned back a little.
“Captain…what exactly happened?” you pressed.
For a moment, you weren't sure he’d respond. But eventually he let out a weary sigh of resignation.
“...Let my anger overrule my judgment. Shouldn't have put us in that kind of situation—put you in that kind of situation. It cost you a damn eye and some fingers. Shit, Y/N, I–This is my fault.”
Anything you'd wanted to retort back with died on your tongue in an instant as you absorbed his words.
An eye? Some fingers?
You had to look down–with partial vision–to confirm, but looked away from your wrapped hand only after a brief glance as your stomach dropped.
If you'd had the strength to, you might have vomited. Or cried. Or both.
But you had to stay in control over what little you could.
“...How bad…?” You hesitantly asked, shifting on the makeshift cot he had apparently supplied.
You must have been out a long while…
“All of it–me.”
“Not great, not the worst,” Levi supplied lamely, his eyes transfixed on your hand before they swiveled up to your face–what of it was visible. A frown tugged at his lips, and his expression softened–like guilt, or pity.
You didn't like that look so much. Not aimed down at you.
“Captain…” you murmured, fixing him with a stern gaze. He met it with one of his own, then scoffed.
“Do I look like a damn field medic? I don't know; but you're alive, and that's what matters. We’ll figure out the rest.”
“What is the rest, Captain?” You again pressed, sitting up straighter and moving aside the cape covering half your body despite his glare demanding you didn't.
You ignored it in favor of getting adjusted through the discomfort.
This time, he didn't try to stop you.
“...Concussion, bruising, blinded eye, missing fingers, you feel feverish, bruising–that’s all I can determine for now. You’re lucky camp still had some supplies I was able to scavenge.”
You already regretted moving so soon, but refused to show it as you ground out through grit teeth.
“You went all the way back there?”
“Made sure your body was covered first.” He reassured, taking his eyes off you briefly to look around the clearing you both inhabited.
“But yes.”
“Covered? What–”
“...We're being hunted, Y/N.”
The statement froze the blood in your veins and made your stomach queasy.
Hunted?
Your mind spun with many possibilities before you even asked; by Zeke? By someone else? More Titans? Marlians?
“‘Jeagerists’ turns out,” he continued, seeing your confusion. Your raised brow made him shake his head, and start to backtrack.
“That was his plan all along; taint the wine, turn the soldiers, reunite with Eren, escape and rally with Eren’s ‘followers’. A few showed up with Hange in tow, after the explosion. I'd just gotten to my feet and grabbed you when their guns went off.”
“Hange-” you gasped. They weren't anywhere within sight, and naturally you assumed the worst.
“They’re fine. We got you out of sight and picked off the strangler as best we could with limited ammo. They’re keeping watch while I watch over you–we’re taking shifts.”
You both fell into silence for a long moment, in which time you took to look around and gather your wits about yourself as relief filled your mind.
They were safe…for now.
Everything still ached, still felt like lead; but you were safe. All three of you.
“...They scolded me, you know. For not thinking to look for your fingers after the explosion while getting shot at. They would have had a field day trying to reattach them to your hand, I imagine.”
His sudden comment made you huff with amusement; leave it to him to comment something so dryly and so unprompted.
“I can imagine,” you mumbled, looking around the clearing as if expecting to suddenly spot the Commander somewhere amidst the underbrush. You didn't, of course, and leaned back a little further. Exhaustion felt like a plague…
“Tired?” Levi murmured, glancing back your way again with a raised brow. When you merely nodded, he sighed and leaned his weight forward, resting his forearms onto his knees.
“Rest then, damned stubborn brat. Only thing you're missing right now is watching the shitty grass grow. We’re gonna need you healed up before winter sets in, you know.”
He paused when you actually attempted to lay back, and immediately shifted to sit on his knees and help lower you down. Much to your muted surprise, he even fixed the way his cape rested over your abdomen and shifted the roll under your head once you were settled.
More silence followed as you attempted to relax, yet never took your half-lidded eye off his.
That damned expression of his was back on his face–guilt.
“...I’m sorry,” he whispered, catching you off guard.
“I’d rather it be me than you.”
“I wouldn't, Cap’n” came your muffled reply. Damn the thick bandaging covering the majority of your face, and damn the way the sutures pulled at the skin of your cheek and mouth for every word you spoke. He frowned at that, and turned his gaze away.
“...Levi.”
You perked up a little, forcing your heavy eyelid to open and concentrate on his face–inches from yours.
“...Huh?”
“Just Levi; enough with this ‘formality’ bullshit. Haven't we known each other long enough? You're not just a damned Lieutenant.”
His words caught you off guard for the nth time, and if you could muster up a visible smile in the moment you would have. For now, you settled for a quiet grunt and reached for his hand.
Warm, calloused, steady and grounding. He didn't hold on, but didn't pull away either; it was enough for now.
"I suppose so…Levi…”
Maybe it was the concussion you no doubt suffered from, but you could have sworn you caught the faintest shade of pink spread across his cheeks to his ears the moment you addressed him by name. But the sight vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. He turned his gaze away and sat back onto his heels, leaving you to wonder what you'd really seen.
“...Get some rest; no tossing or turning, you’ll just pull sutures. I didn't save you to watch you aggravate the wounds I stitched.”
Even as you let your good eye close and you relaxed your posture, you noted his loyal presence still right at your side.
And maybe, just maybe, you caught the faint sound of his voice as you drifted off into unconsciousness once more: peacefully, this time.
“I'm not going anywhere, so relax. We’ll figure it out in the morning. You're safe…I’ve got you, Y/N. Always…”
~More Levi Ackerman Content Here~
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DATING METALHEAD!EREN!!!(CUZ PLUG!EREN LOWKEY LAME)
Metalhead!Eren who has his very own band with his childhood friends Armin and Mikasa (He’s the lead guitarist and singer, with Armin on drums and Mikasa on bass and backup vocals) He started the whole band thing back in high school, when he was young, starry-eyed, and filled with optimism. They were mainly underground at first, doing gigs here and there in basements or metal bars that would let teenagers play. Then, during their senior year, they got signed to a record company and the rest is basically history.
Metalhead!Eren whos music is a mix of heavy metal with hints of punk and grunge (Kurt Cobain was literally his savior). But beyond that, he’s deeply into all kinds of music. He’ll honestly listen to anything as long as it’s good. Just don’t offer him country he’ll exile you from his bedroom. His room is filled with records, old and new, from bands that disbanded in the ’90s to rare vintage finds. It’s a shrine to music history, really.
Metalhead!Eren who you meant in your AP History class back in university. He seemed so normal calm, collected, and a little shy. A quiet nerd who knew way too much about ancient empires. So when you later discovered that the shy guy who always tied his hair back to keep it out of his face while taking notes was actually a metal-obsessed guitarist with a damn good voice it was a shock, to say the least.
BFMETALHEAD!EREN
BFMETALHEAD!EREN Who has songs secretly about you? Well, actually, their lyrics are hidden beneath melodies and perfect timing. Of course, he can’t just outright put your name in the song that’s too forward. That would be horrible. So instead of doing that, he hides secret messages within the lyrics. Little details only you would notice your favorite color, the food you love to eat, the strange habits only he knows about. They’re woven into every verse, tucked between harmonies and chords that sound like home.Everyone else might analyze his music for deeper meaning, searching for symbolism or hidden lore. But the truth is simpler, softer.
BFMETALHEAD!EREN Who has mixtapes and playlists dedicated to you? Eren does. He’s always been a lover of physical media CD players, records, turntables, MP3s. There’s something about the crackle of a record or the soft hum of a disc spinning that feels more real to him than any streaming app ever could. One of his favorite gifts to give is a burnt CD or an old iPod he’s had since high school, filled with songs that mean something to him. Each track is chosen carefully, each lyric a quiet message. The CDs are always custom-designed, decorated with doodles, stickers, or handwritten notes, and tucked into a special case made just for you.
BFMETALHEAD!EREN Who takes you to shows especially the underground ones hidden beneath bars and back alleys? Eren does. He always knows where the best local bands are playing, the kind of places where the walls shake with bass and the lights flicker like dying stars. It’s loud, chaotic, and perfect. But he has this annoying habit of talking through every concert. He can’t help himself. He just wants to tell you everything he knows. He practically knows every band in the city and every song they’ve ever released. While you’re trying to lose yourself in the guitar riff, he’s leaning close, shouting some random fact over the noise. “Did you know this song was actually about the lead singer’s ex-girlfriend? Yeah, crazy, right? I heard she overdosed on ketamine,” he says mid-concert, grinning like he didn’t just drop the most unsettling trivia imaginable.
Levi has a tendency to let his fingers skim along your hand at the beginning of your relationship, a fleeting motion so delicate it could almost be mistaken for happenstance. It’s a gesture he reserves for moments when he’s moving past you or seated quietly at your side—so soft, it barely lingers, like the faintest ghost of a touch. A silent acknowledgment of his presence, his way of murmuring “I’m here” without uttering a word.
One particular evening, as the two of you are absorbed in separate tasks, his fingers don’t retreat as they usually do. Instead, his touch trails deliberately from the back of your hand to your wrist.
You glance up at him, a question on the edge of your lips, but he’s already watching you, his expression as neutral as ever, giving away nothing.
“Something wrong?” His voice is level, unruffled, yet there’s an almost imperceptible flicker of impishness in his eyes.
You arch a brow, scrutinizing him. “You’re not usually this… bold.”
For a heartbeat, his face remains impassive, as if he’s carefully weighing his next move. Then, with a barely-there smirk, he leans in, just enough to make the space between you feel nonexistent. His words slip out, quiet and calculated, brushing the edge of your ear like a soft gust of air.
“You don’t like it?”
Your breath hitches, and you blink, caught completely off guard. But before you can muster a reply, he continues, his voice dropping even lower, with a subtle edge of unusual playfulness.
“Tch. Didn’t think you’d get shy over something so small.”
The heat creeping across your cheeks betrays you instantly, and though you try to look unimpressed, Levi doesn’t miss a thing. His smirk doesn’t widen, he’s too composed for that, but the twitch of his lips and the quiet glint in his eyes speak volumes. He pulls back and resumes his task without ceremony, as if the moment had been inconsequential. But you know better. You know Levi, and you know he’s enjoying this far more than he’ll ever let on.
After that, it becomes a pattern. A hand lingering on the small of your back as he passes, his lips brushing your temple in a rare stolen moment when no one else is watching. It’s always so matter-of-fact, so seamlessly woven into your interactions that it almost feels accidental. Almost. And yet, every time, you find yourself thrown off balance, your heart betraying you with its frantic rhythm.
Levi doesn’t have to say much (he never does) but the subtlety of his actions, the precision of his timing, makes it clear: he knows exactly what he’s doing. And the faint flicker of amusement that plays across his otherwise stoic face each time proves just how much he enjoys your flustered reactions.
Because for Levi, there’s a certain charm in seeing you unsettled, in watching you scramble to regain your composure. And for you? There’s no preparing for it. No matter how much you try, he’s always one step ahead, catching you unawares with the smallest gestures that linger long after they’ve passed.
Your phone rings from the kitchen counter, you walk over and look at the caller ID– “unknown caller” If it’s a scam you’ll just scream into the mic again, it seemed to work last time.
“Hello?” You answer, putting it up to your ear, standing in the kitchen of your apartment; the lights of your apartment bright despite how dark the windows are.
“Hello.” A gravelly voice answers, okay… definitely not a college friend or something.
“Yes?” You say into the phone, trying to prompt whoever is on the other end into telling you why they called you.
“Who is this?” The gravelly voice asks, it’s not like they’re a scam call– should probably just see what they want.
“Who are you tryin’ to reach?” You ask back, not fully wanting to give out your name to a stranger quite yet.
“What number is this?” The voice asks.
“What number are you trying to reach?” You roll your eyes and tilt your head a bit, even though the caller couldn’t see you.
“I don’t know.” The voice says, even lower than before.
“Well, I think you have the wrong number.” You respond, a small smile on your face despite the slight annoyance. “Do I?” The voice asks. “It happens, take it easy.” You press the button to hang up, setting it down on the counter again and going to walk back to your living room; getting a few steps before your phone rings again.
You let out a small groan as you answer it again. “Uh- hello?” You respond, now slightly more annoyed than entertained.
“I’m sorry, I guess I dialed the wrong number.” The voice sounds from the phone again.
“So why’d you dial it again?” You ask, equally amused and annoyed at the phone call that was interrupting your night.
“To apologize.” The voice says, it sounds like the person was smiling on the other end despite their spoken remorse.
“You’re forgiven, bye now.” You smile as you say it, nodding your head as you go to take the phone away from your ear once more.
“Wait wait, don’t hang up.” The voice begs, stopping your motion.
“What?” You ask, turning around– the window behind you drinking up the light from your kitchen like a blackhole.
“I want to talk to you for a second.” The voice purrs into the phone, you narrow your eyes.
“Ugh, they’ve got 900- numbers for that. See ya.” You hang up the phone and step over to your stove, pouring out the packet of popcorn into a pan.
Br-bring-br-bring! Your phone rings again, you roll your eyes and answer it again.
“Hello.” You say, somewhat annoyed at this point.
“Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” The gravelly voice asks.
“Who is this?” You ask, covering the pan with a lid as the popcorn starts to pop.
“You tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine.” The voice offers, no way in hell are you telling a random person your name.
You laugh, rolling your eyes at the cheap attempt, “I don’t think so.” The popping gets louder as the pan heats up.
“What’s that noise?” The voice asks.
“Popcorn!” You answer with a smile.
“You’re making popcorn?” The voice asks. “Mhm.” You hum your response as you shake the pan a little. “I only eat popcorn when I’m at the movies.” The voice states.
“Well, I’m getting ready to watch a video.” You say, turning away from your stove and walking over to the other side of your kitchen.
“Really, what?” The voice asks as you lean down on the counter, resting your arms on it.
“Oh just some scary movie.” You shrug with a smile.
“Do you like scary movies?” The voice asks, “u-huh.” You nod. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” The low voice asks.
“Uhh… I don’t know.” You say, shrugging again, tilting your head as your arm props your phone up– your elbow against the counter.
“C’mon you have to have a favorite. What comes to mind?” The voice goads, wanting an answer.
“Uhh… Get out.” You take a knife out of your knife block. “You know the one with the family who trades brains with black people.” You say, holding the knife in between your fingers for a few seconds before dropping it back down in the knife block. Standing up fully.
“Yeah.” The voice hums. “What’s yours?” You ask, walking out of your kitchen and over to the table near your front door and grab the DVD your parents had given you.
“Guess.” The voice says mischievously.
“Uhmm… The Hills Have Eyes?” You guess, shrugging as you walk to your living room.
“Is that the one where the people eat each other?” The voice asks.
“Yeah, the people who got turned into human eating monsters.” You add, slowing down your walk as you talk more with the mysterious person.
“I liked that movie, it was scary.” The voice says.
“The first one was, the remakes were just alright.” You add, finding yourself smiling at the cryptic voice the more you talk.
“So… you got a boyfriend?” The voice asks, and you smile even more before biting your bottom lip.
“Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” You tease, slowly making your way over to your living room.
“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?” The voice asks.
“...No.” You lie. I mean… you were planning on breaking up with Bertholdt tonight anyways, so why not have a backup.
“You never told me your name.” The voice states.
“Why do you wanna know my name?” You tease as you walk over to your Tv, clicking it on and setting the DVD case on top of the stand.
“Cause I wanna know who I’m looking at.” You still, you feel as if your blood froze inside your veins.
A dog starts to bark, probably one of your neighbors’ dogs. “What did you say?” You ask, looking around to all of the visible windows.
“I wanna know who I’m… talking to.” The voice corrects.
“That’s not what you said.” You state.
“What do you think I said?” You turn on the patio light, looking out– being on the ground floor you could see the woods behind your apartment complex. “What?” The voice asks as you squint, searching through what you could see of the woods. “Hello?” The voice again, snapping you out of your search.
“Look, I gotta go.” You stutter out, locking the door.
“Wait wait, I thought we were gonna go out.” The voice calls out as you turn off the patio light.
“Uhh… nah.” You lock the patio door just in case. “I don’t think so.”
“Don’t hang up on me-” You hear the voice say as you pull the phone away from your ear and hang up, still staring out the patio door.
You go to walk back over to your kitchen and your phone rings in your hand again. You stop and wipe your face before answering it again.
“Shit.” You whisper before answering. “Yes?” You try to seem intimidating as you answer.
“I told you not to hang up on me.” The voice growls from the other end.
“What do you want?” You ask, trying to sound more annoyed than scared. Maybe this was a prank.
“To talk.” The voice purrs again, switching from such an angry growl to almost playful so easily.
“Well, dial someone else okay?” You hang up before they can say anything back. Walking back to your kitchen as you hear the popcorn no longer popping. You reach for the knob to turn the stove off but your phone rings again in your hand. You’re getting really sick of this.
You bring it up to your ear once more. “Listen, asshole-”
“No you listen, you little bitch, you hang up on me again I’ll gut you like a fish you understand?” The voice sounds from the other side, anger laced into every word of the threat. You look around your apartment, the fear continuing to grow in your stomach. “Hah, yeah…” The voice laughs.
“Is this some kind of joke?” You ask, hoping the voice would say yes. Hoping it was one of your friends and you could have a laugh about this. Fuck, even your boyfriend. Anything other than this being real.
“More of a game, really. Can ya’ handle that… pinky?” Your eyes flick down to your sweater sleeve, baby pink. Utter terror, you run to make sure every door and window is locked in your apartment. Locking the front door’s deadbolt before flicking the window locks of your living room and kitchen closed.
Running to your bedroom and shutting the window you had left open in there. Quickly making your way back over to the kitchen, leaning over your sink to look out the window.
“Can ya’ see me?” The voice asks playfully. Fuck, whoever this is really can see you.
“Listen, I am two seconds away from calling the police.” You tell the voice, trying your hardest not to cry.
“They’d never make it in time, it’s a Saturday night.” Fuck, the voice was right, it would take at least an hour for an officer to even get here. You stumble back to press your back against your front door. The sound of the popcorn sizzling completely forgotten.
“What do you want?” You ask through tears.
“To see what your insides look like.” The voice growls through what sounds to be a cheshire cat-like smile. Doubling over as a sob wracks your body, hanging up the call with your thumb. Fumbling your way down the entrance hall to your living room.
Ding-dong! Your old doorbell rings, and you can’t help but yell and turn back to the door. Your apartment was old, the doorbell was connected through exposed wire throughout your whole apartment– which made it all the louder.
“Who’s there? Who’s there!” You call out in a moment of desperation before pulling out your phone again. “I’m calling the police.” But as soon as you can dial one number you get a phone call causing you to yell again. Picking it up and putting it to your ear, feeling helpless.
“You should never say ‘who’s there’, don't you watch scary movies? It’s a deathwish. You might as well come out here to investigate a strange noise or something.” The voice says as you back your way into your living room.
“Look, you’ve had your fun now so I think you better just leave or else.” You hit your leg on the coffee table as you walk backwards, not hard enough to hinder you– just bruise.
“Or else what?” The voice goads.
“Or else my boyfriend’ll be here any second, and he’ll be pissed when he finds out.” You hold your stomach, feeling nauseous from all of the fear.
“I thought you didn’t have a boyfriend.” The voice says back.
“I lied! I do have a boyfriend, and he’ll be here any second so your ass better be gone.” A cry makes the end of your sentence turn into a whimper as your tears continue.
“Sure.” The voice goads, almost gently– making all of this worse.
“I swear.” You cry out a little more, taking a breath to yell into the phone, “He’s big and he plays football, and he’ll kick the shit out of you!” You yell out, standing in the middle of the living room. Doesn’t matter if he only started playing football because his friend plays it, he still plays.
“I’m getting scared, I'm shaking in my boots.” They voice toys.
“So you better just leave.” You whimper into the phone.
“His name wouldn’t be… Bertholdt, would it?” The bone chilling voice asks.
“How do you know his name?” Your voice sounds almost silent, your lungs feel like they’re collapsing in on themselves. Your skin burns like you’re in an ice bath, your head feels light.
“Turn on the patio light. Again.” The low gravelly voice says. You flick it on, your sleeve of your sweater over your hand as you do. Looking out to see Bertholdt tied up on one of your patio chairs. His tall frame sat in the chair, his mouth covered with duct tape, his brown hair messy.
“Oh god!” You squeeze the phone in between your head and your shoulder and you unlock the door, pulling it open just an inch before the voice sounds again.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” It growls and you shove the door closed, locking the door again.
“Where are you, where are you?” You press your hand against the glass door.
“Guess.” The voice sounds. “Please don’t hurt him.” You beg.
“That all depends on you.” The voice says, clearly smiling through its tone.
“Why are you doing this?” You ask, tears streaming down your face.
“I wanna play a game.” You shake your head, crying out a refusal.
“Then he dies right now.” You wail out, blubbering out “No” after “No” Bertholdt starts to yell from under the duct tape covering his mouth. “Which is it?” The voice asks once.
“Which is it?” The voice asks again, this time harder.
“Well… what kind of game?” You ask, the voice almost sounds like it lets out an excited giggle.
“Turn off the light. You’ll see what kind of game. Just do it!” You press your forehead against the glass as Bertholdt starts to beg you not to, his words muffled. Reaching over and flicking off the light, with an arm that felt like it was made of lead. Leaning against the wall and sliding down beside your Tv, crouching next to it.
“Here’s how we play. I ask a question, if you get it right Bertholdt lives.” The voice says as you tug out the lamp cord from the outlet beside you. Your Tv displaying a blue screen into your living room.
“Please don’t do this.” You beg, you feel like it’s the only thing you can say.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.” The voice says. “Please.” You interrupt to beg. “It’s an easy category.” The voice continues. “Please.” Your voice is quiet, almost a whine. “Movie trivia. I’ll even give you a warm up question.” The voice offers, like it was a saint for doing so.
“Don’t do this. I can’t.” You plead.
“Name the killers in Get Out.” The voice demands.
“No.” You press your head against the wall, wanting to just disappear into it.
“C’mon, it’s your favorite scary movie, remember.” The voice purrs, it makes you sick how it’s using that against you.
“I don’t know!” You cry quietly, secretly hoping that if you were quiet enough it would disappear.
“C’mon yes you do.” The voice encourages. “I-I can’t..” “Bertholdt’s counting on you.” You swallow, thinking for a moment before answering.
“Arm-armitage family.” You stutter out.
“Yes! Very good.” The voice purrs, you dip your head down as you blink away tears. “Now for the real question.” You had forgotten that was a warm up round, it meant nothing.
“No!” You cry out.
“But you’re doing so well. We can’t stop now.” The voice states.
“Just stop, leave us alone!” You beg, wiping at the tears on your face.
“Then answer the question. Same category.” The voice lowers, now serious.
“Please stop.” You beg.
“Name the killer in Friday the 13th.”
“Jason! Jason! Jason!” You jump up, declaring the answer as you step in front of the glass door again.
“I’m sorry, that’s the wrong answer!” The voice apologises, but it sounds ecstatic as it says it.
“No it’s not. No it’s not. It was Jason.” You turn your back to the door, debating with the mysterious voice.
“Afraid not! No way.” It growls, clearly happy about your mistake.
“Listen, it was Jason. I watched that movie last week with a bunch of college friends!”
“Then you should Jason’s mother, Mrs. Vorhees was the original killer, Jason didn’t show up until the sequel!” The voice spits into the phone as you realize your mistake. “I’m afraid that was a wrong answer…” It trails off.
“You tricked me.” You whine, bumping into the coffee table again.
“Lucky for you there’s a bonus round. But poor Bertholdt… I’m afraid he’s out.” The voice says, gurgling loud enough to hear through the door coming from him as he struggles against the restraints. You dip over to turn on the lights, looking back to see Bertholdt gutted– still mumbling as his head lolls forward. You can’t even get out a noise, just slide down the door and back yourself into the corner again as you hear the voice laugh over the phone.
“Hey, we’re not finished yet.” The voice sounds, you pull the phone back up to your ear and take a breath. “Final question. Are you ready?” You can’t help the shaky breath that your lungs pull in the second you open your mouth.
“Please… please leave me alone.” You whisper out.
“Answer the question and I will. Where am I?” The question confuses and scares you.
“What?” You whisper out.
“Your apartment is big, has a couple rooms, if you answer correctly… you live.” You reach up to grab a screwdriver you had left out when fixing your shelves earlier that week. “Very simple.” The voice says as you shrink back into the corner.
“Please don’t do this. I can’t… I won’t.” You try to reason with it.
“Your call.” You hear a thud from your bedroom, you forgot to lock the window after closing it. You get up and run to the now smoky kitchen, grabbing the knife you had picked up earlier. The popcorn on your stove now a small flame. Ditching the letter opener for the bigger knife, you look down the hall to your bedroom.
Ca-thunk! Something smacks into your window– causing you to spin around to look at it in horror. A bird on your windowsill, shaking before flying away. You forcefully blink before turning back around to see a figure standing in your kitchen. A white mask on, you recognized it as ghostface. Fuck, how didn’t you put two and two together before? And a black robe cascading down the figure.
“Please, no. I don’t wanna die.” You beg, holding the knife out towards it. The figure tilt’s its head at you, then brings a gloved hand up and waves at you. You run at it, shoving your elbow into its chest and pushing as hard as you could. It’s back hitting the front door as you run into your living room. Smacking your hand on the glass door to your patio, dropping your phone to try and unlock it as two hands grab hold of your shoulders.
“No!” You scream as it pulls you away from the door, wrapping its arms around your waist to lift you. Carrying you away from the door, down the hallway to your bedroom. It throws you into your bedroom and closes the door, locking it as well.
“I-please! I don’t want to die! I’ll do anything.” You beg as it pulls a knife from its pocket, holding you onto the ground by a strong hand on your chest, the figure sitting on your legs. It tilts its head and leans down, the mask pushes against your neck as you cry. The knife pressing right underneath your chin as you push your head against the carpet. Your hand on the gloved one holding the knife to your throat, pushing against it.
The figure’s hand comes up to its mask and lifts it just enough for it to drag its tongue across your cheek to collect your tears. Pushing the mask back down before moving back to look down at you. You lift your hips to try and buck the figure off of you, but you just push the figure’s face down to yours and your hips up into a rather big bulge in the figure's pants.
“Please, if you don’t kill me, I’ll never tell anyone. I haven’t even seen your face. I promise, I’ll do anything to live.” You beg, tugging at the black robes as it sits back up– putting more pressure on your legs again.
“You lied to me.” The voice growls, a higher whiney one intertwining with the gravelly one. You give the figure a confused look, your hold on the gloved hand relaxing a little as confusion takes over. “You said you didn’t have a boyfriend. I don’t like liars.” The mask tilts.
“I’m sorry! I only said it because I was going to break up with him, I promise.” You blink the confusion away and start to push against his hand holding the knife again. The hand staying in place, the tip of the curved blade touching your skin just enough to remind you it’s there.
“You want a replacement?” The figure asks, you can hear the hint of the person underneath’s voice and you get an idea.
“Yes! I do. Want-want a replacement. Someone stronger, scarier.” You respond, looking up at the mask with wide eyes. It leans down to you, the mask almost touching your face.
“I don’t believe you, yet.” It whispers at you.
“Promise, wouldn’t lie. Would die if I lied right now.” You tap his hand holding the knife to your neck, shifting your hips under him– feeling him against you again.
“Good job, you’re learning.” The voice purrs, pushing the knife into your skin a little more. Not enough to break skin but enough to scare you.
“Please, don’t kill me. P-promise I won’t turn you in. Won’t tell anyone about this.” You beg, the figure sits back up again. Grabbing the back of your neck and lifting you up enough to take away the hand shoving the knife against your skin to tug your pink sweater off. Throwing it across your room and pushing you back down to the ground.
“Promise?” The voice almost sounds like its mocking your pleas. You nod vigorously, he brings the knife down to your sweatpants and slices the drawstring with one clean movement. You watch with wide eyes, feeling your blood in your body rush around– your heart beating fast and heavy. The figure sits up off of your legs to tug your sweatpants down to your knees, seating himself back down the second they’re far enough down.
The knife presses against your throat again, causing you to cry a little bit. Feeling the sharp tip of the knife against your skin, your body trembling underneath the masked figure. He leans forward again, lifting the mask once you can’t see the bottom of his face. Liking your tears away again, his hips slowly rolling against you. A hum leaving him, his voice no longer low or gravelly. He quickly tugs the mask back down and leans up just enough to look into your eyes.
“You're enjoying this more than you want to admit.” The low gravelly voice claims, rolling his hips against you again and you bite your lips into a small line. You hear the voice laugh a little, a small wicked giggle that sends chills through your bloodstream.
“I’m sad you got the Friday the 13th question wrong, here I was thinking you were enjoying the movie.” The voice laments, the mask tilting to the side in almost a pout.
“I was, I enjoyed it… wait, you were there?” You question, did he slip up and make a fatal mistake? Shit, what if he kills you over this?
“Of course I was, you looked so good all curled up on that couch. Laughing along at everyone’s jokes. Couldn’t get it out of my mind.” He grumbles out, rolling his hips against yours again. You can’t help the rush of blood you feel everywhere, your cheeks heating up and the thin fabric of your underwear slowly getting sticky at the gusset.
“Do-do I know you?” You ask, trying not to give in to the sensation; stilling your hips from pushing off the carpet of your bedroom to lift against his.
“Do you?” The voice mocks as he rolls his hips into you again. “Guess you’ll have to figure it out. Don’t worry, I’ll help.” He rocks his hips into you hard causing you to bite your lip to muffle a whine that escapes from your throat. He leans down, backing up to look at your now soaked underwear with an inscrutable expression due to the mask. Bringing the knife down and slicing your underwear off, and in one clean motion it was in tatters on the ground around you.
You hear his breathing hitch before he brings a gloved hand up to your face and covers your eyes. You hear some fabric shuffling and then you feel it… a hot heaving breath ghost over your thighs and pussy. You can’t help but lift your hips off the ground and towards the sensation. He brings his free hand to your stomach to push you against the ground.
He brings his tongue down and licks a stripe up, swallowing heavily as he pulls away and tugs the mask back down to grunt out. “So sweet, fuck, addicting.” The gravelly voice heaves out, his legs propped in between yours to keep you open, fighting to not squeeze shut to give him some pressure. He tugs the mask back up and leans back down, all but attacking your mess of a cunt as he shoves his tongue through your lips.
“Fuck, feels so good.” You puff out, wondering how experienced he was to be this good. He greedily laps away, you feel his eyes boring into you as he surveys every little movement and noise you make.
He flattens his tongue on you, you feel his nose bump your clit and your body jolts at the sensation. His tongue warm and inviting, you start to narrow down the people you know who could be capable of such strength. Not Eren, he has a metal tongue piercing you would’ve noticed right away.
He brings the tip of his tongue up to your clit, circling around it before pushing down and your back arches at the feeling. “Ah– please…” You bite your lip, your hands gripping the arm that was covering your eyes currently. You feel him pull back and you can’t help but let out a pathetic whine at the loss of heat. A string of glistening spit snapping as he pulls away.
Tugging his mask down as hard and quick as possible to rasp out, “So wet… all f’r me?” As he replaces his tongue with his thumb, dragging it up and down your folds as the fabric of the glove soaks not even a small portion of it up– his thumb on the inside now drenched and smelling of you. He circles it around your bud gently, just enough to get you to squirm.
And squirm you do. “Please, want it so badly. Want you.” You grip his arm tighter, and his resolve all but snaps. He tugs the mask back up, your whines of his thumb being pulled away quickly interrupted by moans as he shoves his tongue into you. Somehow reaching so deep with it that you swear it was impossible. His nose bumping against your aching clit, his free hand squeezing the fat of your thigh, kneading at the muscle.
“Oh fuck, feels so good. So good at this.” You whimper out, feeling him rut his hips down. His hot huge cock pressed against your leg through his pants. You feel him dive even deeper into your sopping wet cunt, his hair tickling at your skin. You bring a hand down to yank at his hair. A high pitched whine leaving him, his grip on your thigh tightening.
“Please, more.” You moan out, tugging his head up to your clit. Feeling him take a sinful sniff as you move him, his tongue retreating from your walls to lick at your red bud. His face pressed against you as he slurps and nips at your swollen clit. A huff leaving you as you feel your brain start to turn to mush, feeling your body start to tingle angrily. Your hips lifting to grind against his face. He hallows his cheeks as he sucks at you, tumbling you over the edge with a loud yell.
He greedily laps his tongue on you as your back arches off the ground, his hand on your thigh snaking up to support you. The cold sticky feeling of your own wetness feeling like ice against your hot skin as you ride out your orgasm. You pant out as you finally start to come down from your orgasm, your eyes blinking open to the dark glove still covering your face.
Your brain feeling like jello as you feel him lower your back onto the ground once more. Pulling back from your pussy with pained breaths. Gulping in air as if he was deep sea diving, did he breathe that entire time?
“Fuck–” You hear a higher pitched voice almost whimper before he presses his lips into yours hard. A deep passionate kiss, filled with your own release on his tongue as he pushes it into your mouth. Sucking at your tongue, grinding his bulge into your sensitive cunt as you shiver. Your hands pull at his hair again to hear his high pitched whine. Your brows furrowed as your fucked out mind tries to figure out who the fuck that is.
“Taste so good. Think ‘m addicted.” He whispers against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip– licking it gently after he lets go. “Just means I’ll have ta’ come back to it later.” He connects your lips again, shoving his tongue past your lips; you feel yourself suffocating in the sensation, but not wanting to pull away.
Gliding your hand through your hair, it stops just a little past where his ears start, his undercut neatly shaven. “If… if you’re going to come back later, you-you can take that hand away from my face.” You pant out, your lungs utterly parched for air at this point.
“That’ll be your treat for being good.” He whispers, you hear some fabric fumbling around and then feel him swap his hand on your face for his other one and flip you around. Propping yourself up with wobbly forearms and knees that he promptly pushes further apart.
He leans down to press his face in the crook of your neck, his wet chin chilling your skin as he presses a soft gentle kiss to your neck. A stark contrast to how roughly his now naked length grinds against you.
“Promise I’ll be good. Can’t… can’t just let you walk away if you’re this good. Almost made me see stars.” You push back, grinding your hips against him in return. He sucks gently on your neck, holding your shirt collar out of the way before quickly taking his hand off of your face to tug your shirt off before covering your eyes again.
“Oh, I’ll make sure you see stars.” He drags his tip up and down your sensitive swollen lips, a whimper leaving him as he buries his face into your neck. His leaking red tip pressing against your entrance. His free hand holding your hips in place as he slowly pushes in, huffing against your neck.
“Fuck, too-too much.” You whine, shifting forward to try and escape the splitting feeling coming from your walls.
“You can do it.” He grunts out, biting down gently on your neck. Holding you in place, pulling you back on him. He feels impossibly long, and so thick it’s driving you crazy.
“Don’t-don’t think-don’t think I can.” You drop your head against the ground, your eyes watering under his glove as you squeeze your eyes shut. His hand over your eyes pulls your head back up as he slows down and licks your tears away. Your breath almost completely stolen as you swear you can feel his tip poking at your lungs.
“Shh, you got this. Just a tiny bit more.” He pushes in the rest, his hand on your waist going down to hold your stomach. His chest pushed onto your back, small huffs coming from the both of you as you try to relax around him.
“So big, Jesus fuck.” You pant out, heavy thick breaths.
He leans his head down again into your neck and gently kisses away. “I know, take it so well. Feel so good around me, so good.” He mumbles in between kisses, running his hand over your stomach gently as he tries to soothe you. You take a few deep breaths, relaxing around him slowly as you adjust to his size.
He sucks away at your neck, too caught up in your scent to notice the way you relax around him. You rock your hips back onto him, grinding him inside of you to nudge at your bulbous g-spot.
“Coulda’ just said you wanted some motion, lovely.” He grunts, lifting his upper body off you as his hand on your stomach retreats. You can feel him shallowly thrust, your wetness and his precum collecting at his base in a sinful dripping circle around him.
You feel the cold point of his blade drag down your back, circling and pressing ever so slightly more into your skin as he thrusts in again. A gasp leaving you as his mushroom tip presses against your g-spot, your walls clenching as he pulls away to thrust even deeper.
“Fuck, feels–” You’re rudely interrupted by a hiccup before continuing, “So goood.” He tosses the knife to grip your hips again, bending back down to press his face into your neck. Inhaling so deeply you forgot what the noise was for a second until you felt his hot breath ghost over your skin. Your forehead starting to drip sweat, you can feel his hair start to stick to any skin it can touch as he sets a forgiving– almost caring– rhythm.
You can feel his tip kiss your cervix with each thrust, his gloved hand covering your eyes pushing you back down on his cock with every thrust. Your mouth lolling open as you clench around him. His cock twitching inside you, bumping his head against your cervix with a dizzying thump, thump, thump!
“Ah-fuck! Feels so good, keep-hck!-keep going please.” You beg, barely able to close your mouth to speak, your jaw hanging wide open as he sucks a deep purple hickey onto your neck. You can feel his veiny long length draaag against your walls with each thrust of his hips.
“C-clenching ‘round me so nicely, fuck.” He mumbles into your neck, biting down to stop a whimper from escaping. You feel yourself grow even more wet at the small burst of pain, and he does too. Speeding up his thrusts as he starts to litter your neck in small bite marks.
“Please, want-wanna cum. Please!” You moan out, your mouth falling open as you start to drool from the pleasure. He aims his hips and slams into your g-spot at a bruising pace.
“Ah-ah-ah!” Leaving your throat at every connection of his mushroom tip to your insides. Your walls clenching around him as you feel your body start to turn to mush, your arms holding you up growing tired– almost sore. He trails his hand on your hips to your back for a moment to puuush you down into an arch that makes him crazy.
Each thrust of his pushing more and more of his precum out of you– it gently hits your carpet with a soft plat! each time; a growing puddle of intoxicatingly sweet liquid that you’ll have to clean when you can stand again.
“Almost there, can feel you getting close.” He mumbles around your skin, sucking and biting near your pulse point. You can’t even bring yourself to form a response, your mind filled with him too. You feel him take his hand off your hips, his thrusts continuing as he removes his hand from in front of your eyes. Instead grabbing a fist full of hair to keep your head from lolling forward.
“Let me see that pretty little face, darling.” The gravelly voice says before you’re blinded by a flash of light– a camera pointed at you two. His arm retreats from its position as he continues to thrust into you.
“Fuck, you look so good. Gonna hav’ta keep this one in my nightstand.” He says in his normal voice, his hips moving at such a punishing pace the only thing keeping you from scooting forward away from each thrust was his hand holding your hair tightly. He leans down again, kissing at your neck, each thrust making him whine against your skin.
“P-plea…please.” You manage out, your knees getting weak from the position. You feel him widen your stance even more before somehow going even deeper.
“God, fuck. Shoulda’ done this sooner. Sho-should’ve taken you after you leaned against me f’r the whole movie. Gigglin’ and playing with… with my hoodie strings.” He rambles as he starts to near his edge. Your brain finally clicks it into place through the haze of sex.
“A-Armin?” You whimper out, turning your head just enough to get a glance of his blond locks, stuck to his forehead.
“Heh– yeah. Hey,” His grip on your hair tightens and he tugs your head back even more. Bringing his head around to suck at your throat, sinking his teeth into your skin. “...pretty.”
“Fuck! Armin!” You yell and he twitches inside of you, smearing more of his precum across your cervix as he slams his head into it over and over again at a bruising pace.
“Just-fuck-you just got even wetter.” He continues his bruising pace and you feel your body start to stiffen as you near your release. Thump, thump, thump, thump it feels like your heart rate and his pace is one in the same. He tugs your head back and connects your lips, his sweaty blond hair sticking to you as he shoves his tongue in your mouth.
You moan into his mouth as he moves to suck on your tongue, his hips slapping against the curve of your ass with each thrust in his punishing rhythm. He pulls away just enough to bite down on your bottom lip, the pain sending you tumbling over the edge.
“Fuck, just like that.” He mumbles out around your lip as you milk him, continuing his pace as you ride out your orgasm. A small droplet of blood drips from your lip into his mouth. The iron taste sending him over the edge, his hips stuttering as he whimpers against your mouth.
Wispy hot velvety ropes spilling into you as you come down from your high, his hips continuing to stutter as his release drips out of you with each shallow thrust. Your body collapsing under his, him following on top of you. He releases his hand in your hair to run his hands over your side gently.
“Think… think I blacked out for a second.” You whisper out, too tired to actually speak. He laughs against your neck, gently kissing all the marks he had made.
“Told you I’d make you see stars.” He smiles against your skin, his hands gently trailing over your body. You shiver, finally cooling off as you lay against the carpet of your bedroom. He pulls out of you, a whine leaving you as he does. His cock dripping with a mix of your releases, a sight he can't peel his eyes away from.
You glance back. “Need to clean off?” You watch as he smiles and kneels in front of you.
“Clean it for me?” He tilts his head, holding his softening cock in front of your face with a smirk. Lifting your head up by your chin, you dart your tongue out to lick him clean. Small whines coming from him as you trace each vein down his long shaft, his hand going to your hair to cradle your head.
“Fuck, careful. Made me so sensitive.” He tightens his grip on your face as you slowly lick across his tip, eyes locked on his as you do so. “Fuckin’ whore.” He smiles down at you, wiping away a small dribble of drool you didn’t even notice was running down your face.
You wrap your lips around his tip lazily before he pulls you off. “Another time, I’ll definitely be back.” He smiles down at you, his thumb rubbing over your cheek gently.
“Maybe without the murder next time?” You try to lift yourself, your arm wobbly as you prop it on the carpet. He moves behind you again, lifting you with ease and laying you out on your bed.
“No promises, have to make sure no one gets in my way.” He leans down, licking the spit on your chin away. “Don’t worry, it’s all gone by now. Like he was never even there.” He stands up, the black robe covering him as he leaves the room. Coming back a few minutes later with a cup of water and a dopey smile.
He lifts you up and tilts the cup against your mouth as you drink from it, placing it on your nightstand when you are done. Tucking the blanket over your naked body gently before walking over to his pants, quickly slipping them on.
“Sleep well, pretty.” He kisses your forehead before leaving. You turn over in bed and feel a cold metal thing hit your chest. Bringing your hand up to it and looking down, a shell necklace to match his own, now around your neck. Another way of him marking you to come back to.
divider by @/cafekutsune
@supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl your wish is my command <3
Summary: Want to know what dating Porco feels like? Well, no worries, old chap! I've got the fic just for you!
Content: fluff with a bit of angst, mention Of YumiHisu, mention of Marcel, No beta we die like Bert, bad grammar
Word count: 1k
Notes: I'm trying a different theme for my fics (you could say this is like a test fanfic)
Porco is known to have a sharp tongue and very brash attitude. He's never one to hold back on insults, and call someone out on their bullshit. Whether it's his fellow warriors or a soldier, he can come across as arrogant, dismissive, and downright rude. However, with you, he's a completely different person. His tough exterior melts when you're around and he becomes unexpectedly protective and preceptive.
He still keeps his edge—his sarcasm and stubbornness are still there, but it's reserved just for others. With you, he’s surprisingly gentle, his cruel remarks no longer meant to hurt but rather to tease in a playful way. His action speaks louder than words, he will wrap an arm around you in public, especially in a crowded area, so you won't get lost or get separated from him.
At times, Porco's possessiveness becomes clear, especially when you get close to the other Warriors or random soldiers. He may act distant or frustrated, not hiding his irritation when he notices their attention on you. While he doesn’t openly admit it, his protective side kicks in, and he subtly keeps an eye on you, ensuring that no one gets too comfortable.
Porco’s love language is physical touch and acts of service, and he shows his affection through these in subtle yet meaningful ways. He enjoys touching you often, whether it’s a hand on your back or a gentle squeeze of your hand. When you’re walking together, he’ll instinctively hold your hand, guiding you to your destination with a firm but gentle grip. It’s his way of keeping you close and making sure you’re never lost, both physically and emotionally. Porco's acts of service comes through in the ways he quietly takes care of you without making a big deal about it. He wants to make your life easier. For example, he will take the initiative to handle tasks you're too tired or stressed to deal with. Whether it is housework, errands, or even just opening a jar of jam he will do it without you asking. To him, showing love through action is more genuine than anything else, he takes pride in being a reliable boyfriend.
Porco runs hot, both literally and figuratively. He has a naturally warm body temperature, which often makes him sweat more than others, especially during training or in stressful situations. It's not uncommon for him to feel uncomfortably warm after a long day of fighting or sparring, and he’ll often complain about it, grumbling as he wipes sweat off his brow. When you cuddle with Porco, his body heat is more than enough to keep you warm—so much so that you won’t need a heater during the winter. His naturally warm temperature makes him the perfect source of comfort on cold nights, and as you snuggle close, you'll feel the heat radiating from him, instantly soothing the chill.
Porco’s biceps are a point of pride for him, though he doesn’t always show it. As a warrior, his training is intense, and his muscles reflect the hours he’s put into honing his strength. His biceps are particularly noticeable when he's wearing his uniform, the fabric of his sleeves stretching just enough to highlight the toned, powerful muscles beneath. Though he acts nonchalant about it, he’s secretly proud of the work he’s put in.
He’s also the type to lightly tease you about his strength, perhaps making a show of flexing his arm when you’re near, just to get a reaction out of you. Though his arrogance comes through, it's also a playful gesture—a way for him to boast without saying it outright. When he catches you glancing at his arms, he might smirk and give a cocky remark, all while secretly enjoying the attention, even if he won’t admit it.
Porco’s flirting style is sharp, teasing, and often wrapped in sarcasm. He’s not the type to be overtly sweet or romantic, but he knows how to push your buttons in the best way possible. His flirtation often comes through as playful banter, with just the right mix of confidence and arrogance. He’ll throw a quick remark like, “You know, I usually don’t put up with anyone, but for you, I might make an exception,” or “Try not to get too distracted by my good looks.”
Porco is surprisingly shy in his own way. While he may come off as tough and arrogant around others, with you, he’s a more reserved and bashful man. He struggles to express his vulnerability, so whenever you show him affection in private, he becomes flustered. He’ll blush and quickly respond with a snarky remark to cover up his feelings, but deep down, he absolutely loves it. Though he finds it difficult to admit, those moments of tenderness mean a lot to him, even if he tries to hide it behind his usual tough exterior.
Porco wants to keep your relationship private, but at the same time, he has a strong desire to show the world that you’re his. He’s afraid that people might perceive him as weak because of his love for you, even though he doesn’t believe love makes someone weak. He doesn’t want anyone to think less of him, especially not his fellow Warriors or his late brother, Marcel. Deep down, he fears that Marcel, in particular, would be disappointed in him for allowing his emotions to show, even though Porco’s love for you is something he treasures deeply. This internal conflict makes him more guarded about your relationship, trying to balance his desire to protect you with his fear of what others might think.
Every time Porco experiences a vision of Ymir showing her affection for Historia, he feels a deep sense of envy. He envies how Ymir was never afraid to express her love, regardless of what others thought. Unlike Porco, who hides his feelings out of fear of judgment, Ymir was fearless in her love for Historia, even when it put her at odds with others. To Porco, Ymir’s ability to love openly, without worrying about how it would make her appear to others, stands in stark contrast to his own struggles. He wishes he could be as strong and unafraid as Ymir, who, in the end, found courage and conviction in her love for Historia, even in her final moments.
Content: college!AU; when a study date turns into your virgin boyfriend asking you to do a little more than kissing <3
~ 1.4k words ~ MDNI |
Eren is adorable, cheeks red, hands fidgeting as he invites you into his dorm, pleasantly empty, Armin ushered out before you came over. He offers a Coke, which you happily accept, setting it on his neatly organized bedside table. You didn't expect his dorm to be this... not chaotic, and maybe - you realize - he cleaned up just for you... the idea makes you grin innocently. Your boyfriend is too cute for his own good.
He carries a bunch of books over to the bed where you sat down already, the material lying between you and him as he sinks onto the mattress, movement stiff and awkward. You're not sure why Eren is so timid all of a sudden, but you decide to bask in the adorably shy look in his eyes when you speak, or he glances up at you from his notes. The unexpected twist of a boring study date turning into this cute display of your boyfriend is not something to be complained about.
Studying with Eren is far more enjoyable than studying alone, but nonetheless, it is exhausting. Your attention span soon reaches its capacity, eyes beginning to dart to your boyfriend restlessly. Eren doesn't seem all too concentrated himself, fidgeting with the edges of his course book, teeth occupied with the soft flesh of his lip.
"Hey, Eren, let's take a break," you suggest, lowering your notes with a small grin, not hiding the implications of the proposal.
He looks up, eyes big and pretty, before he agrees. "Yeah, sure." His cheeks heat up when you climb over the various papers and straddle his lap. He's so perfect under you, shy and pliant, as if you haven't been on top of him about a million times by now, and although it's never led to more, you still couldn't get enough.
"What's with you today?" You chuckle while playfully leaning down to kiss his wanting lips, "You're so quiet..."
He lets himself be pushed back onto the mattress, eager to return your kiss. His hands are shy as they reach for your sides, holding onto you softly, keeping you close while Eren's lips work with yours in harmony, sending pleasantly warm tingles down your spine. He pulls back slightly, his breath caressing your face, green eyes blinking up at you.
"... just... missed you..."
His statement is so obviously an excuse, you barely contain the doubtful look on your face, but Eren pacifies the suspicion by pressing your lips together again. He's soft and warm and perfectly irresistible, and impossible not to melt into. You couldn't imagine a better study break. You fully drown in his lips, getting carried away in the sensations, still feeling hesitant hands by your sides, too shy to move or grip you harder.
Your tongue darts out almost on its own, teasing his lips before retracting. The gasp your action pulls from him makes you smile against his lips. There's a shift under you, unfamiliar and surprising, revealing that today, Eren seems more worked up than usual. You pull back slightly, scanning his face before deciding to ignore the awkward shuffle of his hips - if Eren was ready for more, he'd tell you.
Eren's hands start to shift, trailing down to your hips and back up to your sides, clammy and shaky against your clothes. "Something the matter, baby?" you mumble against his lips, stopping the kiss to let Eren respond. His face is red, eyes darting away.
"I thought..." he starts, trailing off shyly, "maybe we could do a little more than just kissing..."
Your eyes widen. You expected him to ask at some point but now seemed so... random. Or maybe it doesn't - inviting you over to study, empty and clean dorm, the fresh scent of his body wash still clinging to his skin... Eren must've planned this. You couldn't help the smile on your lips if you tried.
"You wanna do more? Like what?" you ask, knowingly teasing, sitting up in his lap. Your eyes never leave his, continuing to watch his shyly dart around while his hands find hold on your hips awkwardly.
"You know what," he can only hold eye contact for a few seconds before having to look away again, surfacely annoyed you're trying to make this even more embarrassing for him.
"No, I mean," you grin while your hands find his to intertwine your fingers and pin them next to his head, leaning over him, "do you want to be inside of me... or me inside of you?" you can't help but giggle as he becomes infinitely shyer, the muscles of his shoulders flexing against your restraining, "or start slower, let me touch you all over~?"
Eren turns his head sideways, stubbornly looking away from you. "... the last one." Your shamelessness makes this both harder and easier.
You bite your lip, feeling excitement build while adjusting your position on him, aligning your crotch with his to grind onto him, only softly to initiate the first contact. You feel how hard he is immidiately.
"Fuck," Eren gasps, the muscles of his lower stomach twitching. He's adorably sensitive. His hands hold onto yours tightly, eyes fluttering shut, fully closing when you lean down to kiss him again, continuing to gently roll your hips.
"You can stop me whenever you need," you mumble against him, pecking his lips between words. Eren nods, and he whines the smallest bit when you lift yourself off him, hands leaving his to pull the black sweatpants downward.
Your movement is slow, ready to be stopped by your virgin boyfriend, but he lets you, propping himself on his elbows to watch you slowly reveal the dark red boxer shorts underneath, dented by his needy dick. Your eyes find his for reassurance, finding Eren's clouded by desire and embarrassment and trust altogether. The look is new but very welcome.
You bite your lip while slipping past the waistband of his underwear, getting too impatient to tease him any more. Eren's dick is warm, and the tip is slightly wet, waiting, pulsating for your touch. He throws his head back when you wrap around him, sighing shamelessly into the room, letting the sound linger as you explore his length from top to bottom.
His thighs flex when you squeeze, gently dragging your palm upwards, jerking him mildly paced. You lean forward to coax his lips into another kiss, feeling the faltering of his pace, Eren's brain completely occupied by the new sensation of a foreign hand tempting his cock into an embarrassingly premature orgasm.
Your thumb swipes the tip, feeling how hot and leaking it is, a smile creeping onto your busy lips. "Feel good?" you mumble against him, slowing the movement of your hand slightly, wanting to cherish this for longer. Eren can only moan in response, his hips twitching in an attempt to reclaim the previous pace, unsuccessfully.
Your boyfriend's breath gets heavier, chest and shoulders visibly expanding with each attempt to retain oxygen into his blood. His lips detach from yours with a sharp inhale, the strength in his arms leaving him as he falls back into the mattress, a hand covering his whimpering mouth. You have to grin at the sight.
"F-faster," Eren gasps, visibly cringing at his demand, "please-"
You hum, thoroughly enjoying the sight below you before giving in to his request - it'd be cruel to deny him this first time. The hand that wasn't desperately clasped over his lips grabs your forearm, not to stop you but to keep you there, to ground himself as his hips twitch into your hold. You didn't expect him to be this fidgety when he comes, the uncontrolled jerks of Eren's muscles letting you watch in fascination.
He whines and chokes on whimpers while his tip spurts creamy white onto his stomach, the squirting rather weak but a lot, like his balls haven't been emptied for weeks. The thought makes you throb.
The pool of his semen is disturbed by your fingers as you absentmindedly run your fingers through it while leaning down to kiss your boyfriend again, unbothered by the sloppiness of his lips. No way you'll ever be able to get enough of this sight, flushed and sweaty and covered in sin and still so innocently adorable. A part of you doesn't want to take the remainder of his virginity, strangely turned on by his inexperience.
not a request and please don't feel pressured to respond, but I need to talk to someone about levi with a sub!reader and I think you're just the right person (I love your works)
I can't help but think that levi is naturally inclined towards power and that the idea of submission might be strange and perhaps even disgusting to him, so he might feel that his relationship with reader would be complicated and unbalanced (the reader being physically taller and intimidating than levi). So what a good surprise it would be for him to discover that despite the impressions, reader simply accepts Levi's imposition and, as if this had been expected from the beginning, naturally falls into the position of submission.
Just levi with his short stature and sharp tongue parading reader around as if they were an obedient guard dog for their owner. He is amused by the reader's absolute submission. Just imagine if the reader was so passionate and submissive, willing to do anything to serve and please and be useful that as soon as Levi commands (not at all seriously) that you instead of talking use your tongue to clean his boots; you obey, without hesitation. Levi would be caught off guard, of course, but the sight of your tongue licking wet stripes on his dark boots, your eyes sparkling, and the little sounds of delight you make is enough for him to smile and relax, ready to test exactly how far your willingness to please go.
what a magnificent mind you have, anon. Sorry for disappearing, life is crazy and honestly, I've been too lazy and tired to write anything. (tw: sub!reader, dom!levi, gender neutral but reader is taller and stronger than levi, boot licking, enthusiastic consent, cock warming, implicit rimming (levi receiving), light breath play, foot worship, footjob, humiliation, pet play (?))
He immediately slumps against the chair, dark eyes watching as you diligently work to carry out the order. The initial disgust that hits him disappears under the excitement of your obedience, the leather glistening under your wet tongue, your knees on the dirty floor. His breathing quickens and when you look up and say you're done cleaning, there's a noticeable tent between the captain's slender legs. The air grows thick between the two of you. What else could Levi make you do?
Levi will certainly take advantage of your disposition. It ranges from basic everyday things, '[name] clean the table', 'eat this', 'I think you've had enough, no more spending money on nonsense', 'iron the clothes again. I can still see the wrinkles from here' (he says for the third time while watching you work), 'go to sleep, it's late' — he says, looking exasperated and exhausted after you spent the entire day trailing after him like a lost puppy. He commands you with a tone that leaves no room for questioning, not that you would do anyway: the Captain's orders are absolute.
And it goes beyond that. He expects you to fall on your knees at his feet as soon as he sits down in the chair behind the desk, ready to start working or on the couch, after finishing. He doesn't speak out loud, just expects you to know that this is what he wants from you. Levi loves the intoxication of power that is having you on your knees for him, your tall, muscular body so much bigger than him, your hands that were big enough to completely wrap around his waist. You could use the height difference to impose yourself over him, fight him, but you didn't, you just naturally accepted your position at his feet, serving him.
And Levi is very happy about it.
You become his pet, his guard dog, docile behind closed doors. The Captain's lapdog.
He uses your mouth for hours on end, letting his cock rest on your tongue, pushing down your tight throat. Sometimes compliant, Levi doesn't punish you when he ends up with his cock and pants drenched in your saliva, though he does make you lick him clean after. He sits on your face and makes an attempt to smother you with his small body, sweaty balls over your face, your hot breath hitting his thighs and ass. Your murmurs are silenced, there is no struggle in your body. He likes to push your limits. Levi immediately gets hard when he sees the lack of resistance in your body, even with the muscles, the huge hands, the training that wasn't useful just for killing titans.
And he allows you to kiss his bare feet, lick his toes and use the friction of his soles to pleasure yourself — you whimpering and begging, asking for permission to come only with the painful pressure of the boot heels digging into your throbbing member. Even when he says you are disgusting there is a smile on Levi's lips.
And when he finishes and showers you with the compliments, and a lot of 'you did well', 'good job, soldier' and 'now tell me what you need', makes it all even more worth it. But even without the rewards that followed, you were still willing to worship him completely and let him use you to the point of exhaustion. He could break you, humiliate you, use you however he wanted.
Such a good little puppy you were to your captain.
