#Levi is one of the Big Bad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theragethatisdesire · 11 months

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aot men as dads - headcanon!! some 18+!!

includes: eren, jean, reiner, & levi

i'm still working on some full-fledged one-shots and parts of my series', but i'm nannying for the summer and have BABY FEVER. please enjoy my little headcanons of my fav aot men as dads <3

DISCLAIMER: some of this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

Eren

ok but eren is such a cringe dad lol

buys himself all of the #1 Dad! merch. he’s got mugs, tshirts, hats, all of it, and all of it went on his credit card.

10000% a girl dad. loves all the little dresses and bows; he puts your daughter’s hair in its first bun, nearly tears up when she points at his matching hairstyle and babbles “like da-da!”

you have to parent eren as much as the children. when you turn the corner into the living room where he’s supposed to be having “quiet time” with your toddler only to find that they’re buried in a pillow fort and eren’s signed his own name in crayon on the wall next to your daughter’s scribblings. “babe, we can just repaint it! she’s being creative.”

loves when you’re pregnant. after your first, eren keeps a calendar on the wall marking off the days until it’s safe for him to fuck you again, fuck a baby right back into you. already has a breeding kink before your first. develops a lactation kink after.

TERRIFIED (and i mean terrified) of hurting your little angel. has absolutely zero concept of “cry it out”; if he hears his baby crying, he’s sprinting into the next room, kissing a nonexistent boo-boo.

refuses to admit it but he has no backbone when it comes to your daughter wanting literally anything. she wants it, she gets it.

favorite thing in the world is matching outfits. favorite. “babe, where’s her green hoodie? i’m wearing mine today for the park!” “of course it matters, we have to match! on that note, where’s yours?”

lets your daughter use his hair to learn how to braid. usually has a few pink hair ties or glittery clips sticking out of it when you come home from a mom’s night out.

really big on your baby getting to see the world. drags you on vacation to any place he can think of, even as you try to explain to him that she can’t form any long term memories yet. “but baby, she’ll have pictures. how many kids in her class can bring a picture of them at the eiffel tower to their first show-and-tell?”

accidentally ruins santa and the tooth fairy for your daughter. cries harder than she does over it.

aggressively vets babysitters. ends up settling for a nursing student in the labor & delivery school who’s the oldest of seven children and probably more knowledgeable about child development than both of you combined, but he’s still suspicious.

wants to watch while you push, watch his baby come into the world. you’ve never seen a sweeter sight than eren in his scrubs, crying while holding your baby girl.

Jean

most people picture eren as being the roughhousing dad, but it’s jean, and i will die on this hill.

freaks out every time he drops your first boy while throwing him around like a ragdoll, but he’ll never stop because “listen!! he’s laughing!”. when it comes to the rest of them, he’s experienced enough now to tell the difference between a real booboo and an imagined one, and he simply brushes their little pants off caringly before shouting “now you tackle me!”

jean’s got no gender preference for your first, or the rest of your little brood for that matter. he raises them exactly the same, regardless: tough.

it takes him awhile to get used to the concept of babies’ minds. you’ve walked in on him having full-blown arguments with your shrieking toddlers several times. “what’s not making sense? if you let your goldfish ‘swim’ in the toilet, it dies, simple as that.”

plays “bad cop” for you because you’re terrible at it, but he’s always having to turn around and snicker into his elbow in the middle of scolding because your babies get the same little throbbing forehead vein as you when they’re mad

wants a big family, and gets it. you practically have to drag him to get his balls snipped after your fourth, him reminding you that “it’s reversible!” the entire way there.

the newborn phase is his favorite. he’s rarely home for any longer than ten minutes without scooping your most recent addition into his arms, squishing their little cheeks and marveling at their gurgling noises.

the kids never give him anxiety, but when you’re pregnant??? jean’s a wreck.

“do your feet still hurt, love?” “what do you mean you have indigestion? that could be the baby coming!” “of course we can’t have sex, what if we poke its little head?”

definitely the dad that’s got a delivery bag and a backup bag and an emergency third backup of the backup bag in his car at all times. the first week of your third trimester, he starts watching you suspiciously for any signs of labor, even though this is your fourth together. you think you’ve got it down by now, you tell him, but he won’t listen.

always gets the kids to work together on little surprises for you. every mother’s day they wake you up with breakfast, every valentines day your dining room table is covered in handmade cards, every birthday your kitchen is coated in flour from jean and four little ones attempting to bake

SO HARD to drag him out for a date night. he wants to bring them everywhere: the fancy restaurant, the couples' get away trip

jean's that dad standing in the bar, watching the game, beer in hand, with an occupied baby carrier strapped to his chest

wants to watch during delivery, but he passed out the first go-round, so now he’s content standing up by your head, trying not to turn white as you squeeze his hand hard enough to break.

talks you into just one more on your fourth’s second birthday. “they’re all so big now. don’t you miss it, babe? my baby in your belly? c’mon…” turns out he reversed that vasectomy without telling you

Reiner

another girl dad. hardcore girl dad.

buys his little princess all number of dresses and barbies, is confused when she’s more interested in the baseballs her classmates have.

accidentally raises the most tomboyish, toughest little girl. still babies her, and she hates it.

cries more than you do on your first date night out when you leave her with your mom. forgets to order his entree at the restaurant because he’s watching the baby monitor app on his phone.

definitely the best at splitting baby duties with you. reiner’s up before you most nights when she wakes, grabbing a bottle and cooing at her lovingly even as she screams. you always try to stay awake to watch him on the baby monitor, though, heart melting as his massive arms rock the tiny bundle back to sleep.

all the neighborhood kids love him because of his size. at every cookout, reiner can’t help on the grill because he’s buried in the grass in a little army of toddlers, led by your daughter, shrieking with joy.

always taking pictures. literally always. unflattering ones when you fall asleep breastfeeding, candids at the zoo, eighteen identical pictures of the lock of hair from her first haircut clogging up his camera roll.

can’t be the bad cop. literally ever. he just can’t say no to his little princess, can’t break her precious little heart by telling her that throwing her food onto the floor is bad.

takes your daughter to mommy & me classes with him

DILF DILF DILF. all the moms in the classes swoon over him and gossip about him when he’s not there; much to your annoyance, reiner never notices, insisting that they’re his “mommy friends”.

always sporting a little bit of glitter on his face or a sticker on his back from your daughter

coming from a fatherless background, reiner nearly kills himself trying to be a constant presence in your daughter’s life (you have to remind him that he has to rest too)

never misses an open house night at school, even if it nearly gets him fired. coaches all of her sports teams. literally almost cries when she makes her first soccer goal. actually does cry when she tells you the boy sitting beside her in class called her his girlfriend. full-blown breakdown on her first day of school, so bad he has to stay home from work.

the absolute BEST through your pregnancy and delivery. always cooking your craving of the week, constant foot and back rubs, stays up all night with you for the three days before the birth when you’re just too swollen and miserable to sleep.

holds your hand through the entire delivery, gets in the doctors’ way when they’re performing checkups because “i’m her father, i need to know what’s going on”

Levi

levi never pictured himself as having children, but when your little surprise arrives, blinking up at levi with his own grey, owlish eyes, levi can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

very easily irritated with anyone asking questions about your home life.

when his coworkers ask for your newborn’s name, levi simply says “child.” are you two trying again? “why the fuck do you need to know?”

super overprotective. your baby waves at someone in the supermarket, and levi’s leaning down to explain (in words your eight-month-old can’t yet understand) stranger danger.

totally one of those parents that goes half-crazy trying to get their child into the top-notch, snobby preschool in town.

“we’re not wasting his intelligence on the public school”

levi grew up with basically nothing, so he goes all out buying the best baby products on the market. $2,500 strollers, researching “best baby toys for development”, the whole nine yards.

100% spends months trying to get your child to make a game out of picking up his own toys after playtime, but it never works.

has a meal plan for your child to “optimize nutrition” that you have to sneak around to give your baby little chocolates and junk snacks.

“why are there pringles in his playtime bag? they have no nutritional value.”

vets anyone that comes around your child, even other children. “no more playtime with that evan kid. he’s always got a cold or something.”

he’s always been a light sleeper, but once you have your child, levi snores beside them watching kids’ cartoons on the tv like you’ve never seen him, even drooling as his head lolls, arm tucked tight around your little one.

learned everything he could about labor and delivery beforehand

you almost killed him in the delivery room as he explained each medical detail of your labor symptoms to “reassure” you. he finally got the hint when you threatened to decapitate him.

he thinks it’s shameful, but watching you be a mother turns. him. on.

wants to take you right there when he catches you breastfeeding, watches you read a bedtime story, spin your child around laughing. you’re just so naturally good at it and it makes him love you all the more, all that love going straight between his legs.

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katiexpunk · 5 months

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Sex On Fire, Part 1 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them. Part 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~6.7K Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny. Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Part 2 | Part 3 Preview | Part 3

S P R I N G Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them.

Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful.

Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.

That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life.

“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could. You, on the other hand, were the total opposite. After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it.

She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged.

Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK.

++++ You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore.

While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story.

You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.

As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.

After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one.

As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below.

Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug.

You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.

In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it.

Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think.

As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up.

You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram.

With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it.

The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep.

++++

The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await.

It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste.

And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try.

You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts.

You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.

++++

The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone.

While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.

“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl.

More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door.

You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open.

As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.

“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"

The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast.

"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer. “Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door. “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone.

Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.

Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive.

And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door.

“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess.

His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more.

“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even.

“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”

“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman.

Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.

“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious.

“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment.

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk.

Oh god.

You’re so fucked.

++++

Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is. You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it.

Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot.

“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.”

Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.

You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it.

Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note.

The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did.

Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it.

“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.”

Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain.

God, he wishes you would have kept it.

S U M M E R

As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days.

It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden.

Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown.

People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway.

You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it.

Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place.

You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy.

You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself.

The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside.

You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter.

The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help.

As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one.

Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself. Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy.

“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot.

“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh.

Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him.

"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease.

Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.

Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration. “You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country…

You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile.

“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception.

“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box. It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency.

Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt. You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.”

His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt.

He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him.

“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.

“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”

“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive.

“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink.

He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again.

“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off. “Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls.

You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car.

Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom.

Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life.

He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one.

The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.

“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him.

++++

Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected.

If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had.

“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen.

You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.

Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated.

You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment.

He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves.

“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips.

“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips.

“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken.

“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching.

“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him.

His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.

“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.

“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all. “Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room.

“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice.

You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.

“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it.

You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight.

“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop.

“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.

“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.

You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.

Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock.

You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.

You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.

His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him.

The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm.

“Fuck.” Joel groans.

TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedro pascal #new york #firefighter smut #pedro stories

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katboykirby · 7 months

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A Case of Cuteness Aggression

CUTENESS AGGRESSION, a superficially aggressive but unharmful behaviour that is instinctive to demons. Demonic cuteness aggression is triggered by the presence of cute things, most commonly humans or occasionally small animals.

Characters: all demons (Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Diavolo, Barbatos, Mephistopheles) SFW

LUCIFER is the best at controlling his urges. In fact, he didn't feel very much cuteness aggression around you at all in the beginning. Perhaps it was because his work had him seeing you as more of a responsibility than anything else, or because he considered you one of Diavolo's assets that were vital to the success of the Exchange Program. Either way, it took some time for him to start feeling those urges around you. When he finally did realise what he was feeling, Lucifer was reminded very much of the cuteness aggression he'd felt toward many of his little brothers when they were still young. So it should have come as no surprise that he eventually started to feel that way around you, as well. He remains one of the most restrained in his actions, however, and Lucifer only occasionally gives in to his impulses. If you're within arm's reach of him for too long, you might find yourself with Lucifer's hand on the top of your head. He'll press down on the top of your skull with steadily increasing pressure, or maybe he'll rub your head and ruffle your hair without noticing how rough he's being (like he used to do to Mammon and the twins)

MAMMON has absolutely no impulse control at all, so he is on the complete opposite end of the aggression scale as Lucifer. As soon as he'd made his pact with you, all bets were off. Better kiss goodbye to your personal space right now, because Mammon has zero concept or awareness of boundaries. Expect to get tackled in the halls of the House of Lamentation or RAD at any given moment. He's at least careful enough not to actually hurt you, but he's full-body sacked you enough times to send you both hurtling into the floor. He always feels bad afterwards, but apart from a few rug burns you're fine. Please reassure him and tell him that you're okay, otherwise he'll sulk for the rest of the day. It still doesn't stop him though, and Mammon will be back to pouncing on you all over again the very next day.

LEVIATHAN shows signs of his cuteness aggression with fictional characters like Ruri-chan, and even his favourite idols like Sucre Frenzy. But there's a big difference between gushing over what he sees on a screen and gushing over you, and at first Levi was way too nervous and embarrassed to act on his urges. He'd be perfectly happy to squee over you from afar, and at first that's all he does! If you start getting closer to him though, eventually Levi will hit a point where his urges to squeeze you like his beloved Azuki-tan pillow will be stronger than his anxiety. He'll glomp onto you without even noticing what he's doing at first, his arms and legs binding you to his body so tightly it feels like you're trapped in the coils of a massive boa constrictor. And speaking of snakes, is that his tail you can feel wrapping around you, too?

SATAN, much like Lucifer, tries his best to control himself around you. Unlike Lucifer, Satan's cuteness aggression towards you manifested itself almost right away. It takes a hell of a toll on him, trying to restrain himself and not give in to his urges. He'd be absolutely mortified if his brothers saw him cooing and fussing over you like you were a little baby. Luckily, he's had lots of practice controlling himself, thanks to living with his Wrath. Once he's alone with you behind closed doors, though, in the privacy of his bedroom? That's when he lets his stifling self-control go at long last. He treats you much like a kitten during his cuteness aggression episodes, squishing your cheeks and rubbing them with his thumbs. He'll just barely manage to stop himself from babbling at you in baby-talk, but it's much much harder to fight the urge to headbutt you full-on to show you his love

ASMODEUS is another personal space invader. As much as he dislikes being compared to his greedy older brother, Asmo is more similar to Mammon than he might realise. Your personal bubble is his personal bubble, and he's always touching you or caressing you in whatever way he pleases. Unlike Satan, he goes all-in on the baby talk. He loves to cuddle you, sometimes by force, holding you in his arms and refusing to let you go for anything. You permanently smell like sweet roses and sugary perfume thanks to him, and you often find yourself with new accessories and trinkets decorating your outfits after a cuddle session. Sometimes you think you look like one of those little purse dogs, with an absurd bow holding back your hair. Asmo is obsessed with your hair, and he's constantly playing with it. Thankfully, one way that he differs from Mammon is that when you tell him to stop or give you some space, he does so right away without pouting and sulking about it.

BEELZEBUB has to be very careful around you. You trigger his cuteness aggression even worse than Belphie, but Beel knows that he can't be rough with you or use his full strength around you like he can with his brothers. It's easier for him to control himself than it is for Satan, though, and Beel is always good about not going too far. He gives you the biggest bear hugs, squeezing you in his arms and lifting you completely off the ground, until your feet are dangling in the air. He holds you up above his head, grinning happily as he hugs you to within an inch of your life. You usually don't have the heart to tell him to stop (even if it's getting hard to breathe) because he just looks so damn happy. No matter how big or how tall you are, you're still tiny compared to Beelzebub, and he can easily carry you around like a football Fangol ball like it's nothing.

BELPHEGOR doesn't get feelings of cuteness aggression as bad as his brothers, so for a while you thought you were safe. Sorry, but just because his urges aren't as strong as the others (that's just what Sloth is like) doesn't mean he won't get any urges at all. At most, he will pinch you hard. If he's REALLY feeling that itch and you happen to be close by, you'd better settle in for a long stay. Belphie has no qualms about grabbing you and yanking you down into his nap spot, and he's not exactly gentle about it either. He could be innocently sleeping on the couch one minute, then suddenly you're snatched and buried in the blankets with him, and he's using you as his new body pillow. Might as well relax and get some rest, you're gonna be here for a while.

DIAVOLO is in the same boat as Beel, and has to be constantly reminded by both Barbatos and Lucifer that he can't use his full strength around you. Beelzebub has a lifetime of experience holding himself back for the sake of his brothers, but Diavolo does not. So despite his best attempts to be gentle, the Demon Prince is often the roughest with you. Luckily, his restraint is enough that he never actually hurts you, but it's always rather disorienting whenever Diavolo's cuteness aggression takes hold. It doesn't matter where you are, be it a classroom at RAD or the Royal Palace itself, Diavolo has no shame about grabbing you whenever he feels like it and vigorously shaking you. It might feel like your brain it being rattled around inside your skull, but he means well.

BARBATOS is probably the only demon around who bests Lucifer and Satan when it comes to self-control. You will never know what he is thinking or feeling, nor will his expression ever give anything away. However, this does not mean that he is immune to his own demonic instincts. If anything, Barbatos feels a cuteness aggression towards you that is stronger than most. You'll never be able to tell, but whenever he stands quietly at the ready to serve his Young Master, it is always difficult to keep his mind off of you should you be present as well. His face will be calm and unreadable, but behind that placid smile he will be desperately holding himself back. If you were able to read his thoughts, all you would hear is I want to squish them, I want to squish them, I want to squish them, I want to squish them, I want to...

MEPHISTOPHELES likes to pretend that he is above such things, but he's really not. To his credit, he's definitely not as bad as those damnable brothers, and he keeps himself in check as would be expected of a noble demon such as himself. Besides, he can't stoop to the level of Lucifer, just because you're around! He actually does quite well for a long time, mostly due to the fact that you rarely ever directly interacted with him. But that was back then, and recently he's been seeing an awful lot more of you. He knows that Diavolo is fond of you, so he supposes that he'll just have to put up with you - and the irrational, frustrating urges he feels to squeeze your adorable head like a stress ball. Mephisto holds himself together whenever the two of you talk, but as soon as you leave the room he is clawing at the empty air and grabbing at his own cane to furiously shake it like he wishes he could do to you.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #omswd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me mephisto #obey me imagine #imagine #obey me reader

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temis-de-leon · 3 months

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Obsessed with the implications of poly!MC falling under a sleeping curse. Antidote, of course, being true love's kiss.

And true love exists in every type of relationship (look at Maleficent and her motherly kiss to Aurora), but I think the brothers and/or the rest of the cast would only see it as romantic.

All of them want to be the first to kiss MC, so sure of being their one true love, but since they all love them with such a deep force, it wouldn't matter who's the one kissing them, MC would still wake up. It's true love.

Now, I think the one to actually give the first and, consequently, only kiss, would be either Lucifer or Diavolo. It depends on how big the poly relationship is. If poly!MC is dating everyone, like the bad bitch they are, Diavolo would for sure take advantage of his position as future ruler. However, if it's only the brothers, Lucifer would use the privilege of being the oldest.

Mammon could be the first if he cheats and kisses them before anyone notices. "The Great Mammon, your first" and all that.

What are the implications, you may ask? Well, just imagine. Imagine the heartbreak of sharing the love of your life with your family, your best friend, your master or servant, only for your lover not to reciprocate your deepest feeling.

MC may love them, but they're not MC's one true love; at least, according to the sleeping curse.

How much would Satan or Belphie hate their older brother? How much would Levi hate himself? Would Diavolo and Lucifer's friendship suffer? At what extent?

And how fucking funny would it be to have Luke kissing MC's forehead, that kiss being the one that wakes them up?

Masterlist

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bam-here · 1 year

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//Random Obey Me NSFW Headcanons// (Explicit)

Literally random horny headcanons. Should I add the other characters? Feedback is appreciated.

TW/Tags?: size kink, domination, anal, cum play, unprotected, roleplay/dress up, 3 way, and mention of collar and leash, female MC anatomy

Mammon likes to cum on your face and clean it off for you because he gets to look at your beautiful face and admire you covered in his seed

Asmo loves taking you from behind in front of mirrors. He loves watching how your facial expressions change as he pleasures you

When cuddling with Belphie, he likes to rub his dick against your thighs and ass to tease you

Levi now prefers anal because you let him cum in you and he loved watching it drip out of your hole

Lucifer is usually the one in charge, but you convinced him one time to wear a collar and leash. He secretly enjoyed it so much, he wears it sometimes when he jerks off

Beel likes to press down on your belly when he goes deep so you can feel all of him in you

When Satan needs to calm down you help him by giving him head as he reads. He loves it slow so he can feel your tongue

Diavolo is so big that he has to use toys on you to prep before putting it in. You both learned that the hard way and he felt so bad about it

Solomon uses his magic to enhnace your assests while fucking you

Barbatos likes playing with your chest and absolutely loves how much of a blushing mess you become when he gropes them and tells you how lovely you are

Simeon loves going down on you and hiding between your thighs, tasting your sweet privates

Mammon likes wearing jewelry while doing you, specially a necklace

Lucifer moans loudly mostly to let his brothers know you are with him

Yes, Asmo has both and he will absolutely over stimulate you until you're both covered in cum and sweat

Belphie likes grabbing your ass when he hugs you just to see you flustered

Levi makes you costumes to wear when you two role play with special access for him

You and Satan almost got caught by Lucifer going at it in the kitchen when you two were making dinner

Wthout fail, anytime you and Beel try to watch a movie and cuddle, you end up getting plowed from behind or bouncing on his lap. Weirdly enough beel still pays attention to the movie and tells you about it the next day

Barbatos will fuck you with his tail. Especially when you're so impatient and he has other things to do

Solomon sometimes invites Asmo to a 3 with you. So much in fact you guys all have a session at least once a month

Simeon loves when you ride him Specifically when you slowly grind and bounce on him while making out

Diavolo gets so busy with work that he doesn't see you for days on end and requests videos from you touching yourself

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcannons #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #obey me belphie #obey me asmodeus #obey me smut #obey me lucifer #obey me barbatos #obey me leviathan #obey me beezlebub #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me satan #obey me f!mc #obey me female mc

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maegalkarven · 5 months

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Sometimes I think Levi and Gortash deciding to destroy the Elder Brain is unrealistic, but then I remember the state of (not scared because he his clothing protects him from that, but let's call it nervousness. Nerves. Almost but not quite anxious) frenzy Gortash is in the convo near the Morphic Pool, and what canonically neither of them can subside the brain.

Emperor can, turned illithid Orpheus or companion can, but are either of these evil bitches trusting someone else or turning themselves into mind flayers? I don't think Gortash trusts the transformation he can't personally control and Levi was transformed against his will enough, he won't be doing that again, no, thanks.

So destroying the brain is very likely the only choice they have for survival and I believe Levi, with his kind-of-outsider view and added info about Elder Brain (the tadpole connecting them and the convos he had with Elder Brain) can convince Gortash this thing is playing them and it has grown too dangerous and It's either it or them now, so it's really an easy choice.

The need to survive vs The possible power, but I think the need to survive will win, bc if there's a will, there's a way, and there's no will if Gortash dies (he goes directly into Bane clutches and he knows that).

So it's "Destroy the failed project and start anew" for them.

Levi heavily insists in abusing the powers the Hells have. He remembered SOME parts of their raid on Mephistopheles' vault and is now obsessed with what lays behind other doors/locks hiding other treasures. The inaccessibility of the vaults and the difficulty of the task only makes him want to do it more.

#dark urge: levi #enver gortash #i love somewhat grey-ish path they have bc like #levi is not a hero #but he accidentally helped a lot of ppl and defied bhaal so he is perceived as a hero #additionally he doesn't see any point of killing/hurting the powerless ones bc it's boring #they can't defend themselves it's. eh. not worth the bother #dragging the powerful ones off their thrones. now. that is fun #which only solidifies his picture as a folk hero #even as he keeps being a bloodthirsty murderer #and gortash uses levi's fame for his own goals #levi doesn't mind bc he mainly doesn't give a fuck about stuff like that #his is the path of war #me somewhat keeping my char's morals as they are while desperately trying to keep them from being the Big Bad: i am having so much fun #me: *is nervously sweating*#i think levi's case is ppl awfully misinterpreting his actions giving them the meaning they do not hold

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eli0004 · 12 days

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Making Out With The AoT Men

Summary: what it’s like to make out with the AoT boys

Gn!Reader

Warnings: Slight Nsfw suggestion

(Contains: Eren, Jean, Armin, Connie, Levi, Erwin)

Let me know if you all want me to do a more detailed version for any of them.

Eren Yeager is eager. He feels everything intensely, and that includes love. He’s holding your face in his hands, or tangling his fingers in your hair, all but climbing on top of you. He likes a lot of tongue, so his kissing is sloppy, and he’s so quick to become aroused. Eren wants all your attention on him, and you can bet that his is on you. Someone could walk into the room and say words to him and he’d be none the wiser. He gets so lost in the feeling that he quite literally sees nothing but you.

Jean Kirstein is passionate. He’s a hopeless romantic and he loves to be loved. When you’re making out with Jean, his hands will hover until you give him the go to touch you. His brows are tightly knitted together, and he just wants to pull you closer against him. Another one that likes his hair tugged on, but not too hard. Jean is all about gentleness, he values loving touch. If you’re ok with it, he will softly grab at your hips and thighs, not to squeeze or smack, just to touch you. To feel the warmth of your body underneath his palms.

Armin Arlert is soft. So so soft, his fingers in your hair, his blue eyes hazy and full of adoration. He’s humming softly against your lips, and he whispers little “i love you’s” in between kisses. His hands are soft, his lips are soft, the pink heat spreading over his cheeks is soft. You can run your fingers through that thick, silky blonde hair, tug a little at the roots and hear him whimper. He gets worked up too easily, his hips are softly raising off the couch cushion to find some relief. Honestly i’d say he’s in top 3 best AoT kissers.

Connie Springer is lazy, but not in a bad way. He could spend all his time wrapped up in blankets with you, safe inside, just basking in each other’s affection. He smiles a lot between kisses, so you’ll accidentally kiss his open mouth and he’ll just giggle at you as you scoff at him. His eyes get all droopy and he moves slow and deliberately. You make him so happy he can hardly contain it. Another one on the list that will blow your mind with his kissing skill.

Levi Ackerman is nervous. No matter how many times you make out with this man, your close proximity never fails to make his heart skip a beat. He does get comfortable quickly, however, and he’ll reach out and grab onto your forearms or search for your hands to hold. I like the idea that Levi is endearingly awkward, he doesn’t always know what to do and he likes for you to lead. But his head absolutely swims with love and desire, sometimes he’ll flutter his eyes open briefly just to look at you and soak in the feeling of being held so close. It took him a while to become comfortable with french kissing, but now, from time to time you’ll feel the tip of his tongue poking gently at your lips, and who are you to deny him?

Erwin Smith is just happy. He’s simply content to be in your embrace, letting out happy little sighs between your kisses. He’ll confidently place his hands on your thighs, squeezing gently, or traveling up under your shirt. His hands are so big and warm, calloused against your back and he’s so sensual with his affection. His hair becomes all disheveled and messy and the content expression on his face, the adoration in his eyes is so attractive, you cannot resist this man. Best kisser out of all of them.

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strawberry-cowmilk · 7 months

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the brothers after accidentally making mc cry

mc's gender is not mentioned, not proof read

(did I do this before??)

content warnings: kind of mean/ concerning behavior for some of these men, crying

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Lucifer

he knows he messed up the second he sees you tear up and he wants to hug you and apologise but guess what his prideful self said

'stop crying mc, you're being ridiculous.' with his arms crossed

and what was it all for? lucifer was a little too stressed and took it out on you

he'd distance himself from you for a while before giving you flowers on a random tuesday afternoon in hopes you'd forgive him

Mammon

mammon immediately panics when he realises you're crying because of me

he reaches out to hold you and say 'I'm sorry' over and over again but then realises that's not the best move right now

after you've been alone for a while in your room mammon slides a note under the door saying 'you okay? can we talk'

if you say yes mammon apologises (while nearly crying himself) and buys you a whole car the next day

Leviathan

he's gonna hate himself for the next week

plus he thinks you're gonna hate him forever now

levi literally runs away from you after you start crying because he feels so bad and doesn't know what to do

about an hour later he comes back with his azuki-tan pillow, gives it to you, and then leaves again

if you tell him you forgive him he won't believe you for a moment

Satan

he's maybe a little mean about it and realises that after he said the little mean stuff

'look, mc, I'm very sorry but is this reaction really warranted for?' (hons thought everyone cries once per blue moon like him for a while there)

after realising those words only made it worse he decides to give you some space, he'll apologise properly after you've stopped crying

he also takes you to the street cats he regularly feeds if you want to see them

Asmodeus

oh no what did he do what if you hate him now? what if he messed up so badly that the mere sight of him is enough to make you feel revolted, distressed or afraid?

he's like 'nonono mc look it's fine, here I'm going to paint your nails'

asmo has trouble giving you space because he's so afraid of the possibility that you hate him now, but he does realise he needs to leave you alone

after what happened you have to tell him you forgive him because he might not approach you

Beelzebub

he instantly regrets getting mad over a slice of cake in the fridge

beel immediately apologises after spotting tear number one in your eyes

if you're okay with it he'll give you a big hug and will rub your back to help you calm down again

even if you tell him you're not upset anymore, beel doesn't fully believe you

this mistake of his will be haunting him for a long time, he keeps trying to 'win your trust back' by doing sweet things

Belphegor

'oh.. I'm sorry' and then leaves because he doesn't know what to do and he's ashamed of himself

belphie doesn't know when is a good time to check on you, or should he even check on you at all, does he buy you a gift?

because this man doesn't care too much when he upsets one of his brothers (other than beel) but when it's you? he can't sleep properly for the next week

in the end he does decide to get you a stuffed animal to really show you how sorry he is

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me scenarios #obey me swd #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #gn!mc #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #asmodeus obey me #beelzebub obey me #belphegor obey me #obey me angst

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bigwishes · 2 months

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Terms and Conditions

Levi arrived at the train station late at night. Nobody else was on the train on his way home let alone on the platform when he got off. Levi took his ear phones out of his pocket ready for for his walk home but to his disappointment realised they were dead. He sighed folding up his earphone case shoving it back in his pocket preparing for the quite walk home in the dark. As Levi approached the station exit he heard what sounded like arcade music and saw flashing lights out of the corner of his eye. Tucked away in a small room was a table set up, arcade music was playing in the room as cheap disco lasers spun around. On either side of the table were posters of chiselled abs with the words "FREE TRANSFORMATION BECOME THE ULTIMATE MAN" written over the top in what looked to be a rushed photoshop job. Levi had been thinking about getting a personal trainer for a few weeks now and he didn't want to pass up on the chance for a free session or two, even if the trainer was this bad at advertising. He looked around for any information but all he could see was a QR code taped down to the middle of the table. Levi scanned it and it took him to a website just as corny and asked him to upload his 'before' photo. Shrugging it off he scrolled through his photos and selected one he had taken on a night out a few weeks earlier.

Once uploaded the website brought up a page 'TERMS AND CONDITIONS'. Levi began reading but after the first sentence assumed it was the basic bullshit all websites have, he tried to skim read it but after realising that the terms and conditions document was over 400 pages long he just speedily scrolled his way to the bottom ignoring all of it until a large blue button labelled 'ACCEPT' showed up. Levi pressed the button and his phones web browser instantly closed. Levi tried to do the whole process all over again but the browser couldn't even open the website anymore. Rolling his eyes in disappointment it became clear whoever was running this program was struggling to get their career off the ground because they were so bad at marketing or even basic tech. He put his phone in his pocket and left the station to head home and go to bed.

The next morning Levi woke up and felt groggy, his body was sore all over like he had just done a week long boot camp and he felt slightly heavier. He stretched and felt like his shoulds and quads were much tighter than usual. He put one hand on his shoulder to try and help stretch it but it felt larger, bulkier...

Looking down he saw that his shorts had split open in the middle of the night and out of the shredded fabric poked strong thicc smooth muscles. his abs were more defined and and his arms were pumped up with definition. He had always been fit but somehow over night had transformed into a complete jock. He covered himself up and took a picture, surely this was all just a dream.

Whilst trying to find his gallery he came across a new app on his phone labelled 'Ultimate Man' when he opened it he was saw just a page that looked like it was written in the notes app with a few sentences on it.

"congratulations on embracing masculinity, through your free transformation we are going to turn you into the ultimate man! get ready to embrace manhood big guy"

Levi cringed at the terribly written message but whoever was behind it clearly was doing something right, even if they came off like an idiot.

Suddenly Levi began to feel warm and could feel his heart pumping. But it didn't feel like exercise or even anything strenuous it just felt like he could really notice all of the blood in his body moving around. Levi felt himself get hard and he looked down under the covers. Even his dick looked bigger. He opened up his browser app and went to his favourite website to look at videos and images of hot guys. On the home page happened to be an image of a buff Olympic swimmer climbing out of the pool, instantly Levi moaned as he came without even touching himself. He looked down at his twitching manhood, it continued to drool over his bare abs. He cleaned himself up and put a pair of shorts on and tried to make his way to the kitchen. It didn't even take two steps before Levi moaned loudly again and his knees locked together causing him to fall to the floor. He felt his underwear fill with warms and he felt his dick pulse and twitch, he took a breath thinking it was over before it fired off again.

Levi squirmed on the ground moaning unable to stop as his body forcefully went through cycles of pleasure. He didn't even have the strength to sit up. His shorts had become drenched and were stuck to him but it didn't stop. Levi tried to take them off but his hands never even made it to the waist band he simply stopped and massaged his throbbing pelvis as waves of pleasure were sent up to the rest of his body. He didn't know what was happening and couldn't even think he just laid on his bedroom floor squirming in pleasure as he was forced to come over and over again.

After a few hours it finally stopped. Levi was stuck on the ground panting like a dog in summer but after a few minutes he was able to pick himself up. He pulled off his shorts now 3 shades darker and coated in a layer of sticky gloss. He went to put them in the wash basket but ended up just dropping them on the ground next to his bed and by the time the loud wet *shlop* of his shorts finished echoing around the room he had already forgotten about wanting to wash them.

Levi put on a basic black shirt and another pair of shorts, both felt so tight it was almost like a second skin. He passed the mirror in his hallway once again he looked bigger, more defined and the imprint of his dick stood out like a sore thumb. He was still hard and his sorts were so tight every second step made him wince in a mix of pain and pleasure as he had become so sensitive down below.

Levi went to make breakfast and realised it was almost lunch

"fuck I really need to get to the gym"

he thought to himself, forgetting that he didn't even have a gym membership. Mindlessly Levi started to make his way to his car and drove to the closest gym. He was panting like a dog the entire way as the vibrations from the car gently stimulated his manhood but to him it felt like the best pleasure his dick had ever received. He felt his shirt and shorts become tighter, a few tears began to form around his thighs and the shirt started to ride up revealing his abs, it was almost like his clothes were shrinking. His toes curled as his shoes felt tighter. Finally he arrived at the gym.

Levi needed to take a moment after parking his car, he was still panting and he couldn't help but rub his groin which alone was enough to make him feel like he was edging. After almost half an hour of sitting in his car trying to collect himself he finally got out and made his way to the gym entrance. His car somehow looked smaller to him, and all his clothes felt like one wrong move and they'd all rip off. He tried his best to pull his shirt down to his waist but there was still a few inches of skin that could be seen. His shorts where the worst, he could see in the reflection of the gym windows how they hugged his thighs forming a nice V shape and he could feel how they rode up his ass, like he'd put on a pair 6 sizes too small.

Levi opened the door and went to the reception desk as his body began to feel warm again. He rapidly dinged the bell on the desk a few times before hearing a slight click noise, looking down he noticed the top of the bell had caved in and he gritted his teeth with a slight look of embarrassment on his face. A receptionist walked over from the other side of the desk and took one look at Levi, without even thinking he said,

"forgot you member ship again big guy?"

the trainer sighed and buzzed the small plastic gates open, Levi was confused but didn't question it, he quickly walked through the gates feeling desperate to work out. As he walked he felt his thighs now rubbing against each other, he felts he biceps and pushing past his pecs as his arms swung, and he felt the monster python in his pants creep slightly further to the elastic in his underwear.

Levi set up the cable machine almost by instinct. He began pulling the weight and didn't even realise he had it set to the most weight possible, and it didn't even feel like anything.

His shirt felt tighter and tighter as the sleeves pulled up above his biceps and the waist pulled up almost to his pecs, by now it looks like he was wearing a crop top. Levi struggled to pull his shirt off and was stunned by the amount of mass on his body. He could barely pull his eyes away from the mirror as he watched himself workout, he was hypnotised by the way his biceps moved and the way his pecs bounced with each movement.

Levi felt himself get heavier and heavier to the point simply moving between machines now had him out of breath, his shorts were now so tight and pulled up they practically looked like a thong. Finally Levi stopped working out feeling the enormous weight of his size falling on his. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and stared at the freakishly massive man in the mirror.

He took a step back whilst flexing and felt something bump up against his ass. He turned around expecting it to be a bench but it was one of the gym staff.

"hey man, watch where you step hahah" the staff member laughed

It took Levi a minute to get the joke, he thought the staff member was sitting at first, but his eyes widened as he realised he was in fact standing. Levi scratched his head trying to work out if this guy just happened to be short but it was hard to work out when half his view was blocked by a massive shelf of his muscles that were his pecs. It was him finally realising he was half barefoot that finally made it click in his head. He looked in the mirror at the remains of his size 12 shoes torn to pieces and bits of fabric and rubber barely around his enormous feet.

He walked through the gym to the changing rooms trying to gauge how large he had become when he saw the weight station people used to track their stats. As he got closer to the station he watched the plank of wood used to measure height get smaller and smaller until he found himself in front, looking down at the number 8FT that was barely up to the bottom of his pecs. Levi stepped on the scales and watched the digital numbers rapidly shoot up until it began to slow around 700lsb. Levi took a deep breath as he moved his mass off the scale back down to the ground, even the 3 inch drop was enough to make small things on shelves near him rattle and shake.

Levi caught himself moving towards the changing room in the mirror, he thought he was walking normal but in reality he had a ridiculous wide waddle that took up the entire walk way. As he walked through the doors to the changing rooms a large thud caused everyone in the gym to turn their heads. Levi, not used to his new size had smashed his head into the door frame but it felt like someone had flicked him rather than walking face first into metal, as he took a second to recover he saw that the door frame had actually bent slightly from the impact.

The massive giant sat on the wooden bench alone in the changing room, it comedically bent in towards the centre, his massive weight almost causing it to bend to the ground. Levi scrolled his phone to find the app hoping there was a way to size down. He opened the app he saw a few notifications but clicked the latest one.

"Congratulations, you are almost the perfect man, one final step and you will be the optimal man! FINAL STEPS: Intellect deletion protocol and Personality Rewrite"

Immediately after reading those words Levi's head felt funny, felt almost blurry, all the embarrassment about turning into a literal giant went away, all the worries about clothes fitting him were gone and new feelings started to come in. Levi looked up into the changing room mirror and smiled.

He flexed his massive bicep

"OOOOOOH YEEAAH THATS NICE"

he rose his second arm to flex his other

"FUCK IM SO BIG, BEING THIS HUGE IS AMAZING"

He stood up once again feeling his insane weight

"Oh fuck, im so heavy, but damn, so big" He said as he struggled to reach across his own body to reach his bicep

His phone pinged loudly and Levi opened it to the app, but it looked like gibberish, he couldn't make out a single word, he scratched his head with confusion, Suddenly an audio file played

"Congratulations on becoming the Ultimate Man, we are currently offering a one time special offer for only the manliest of men, increase size by an additional 2 feet and 130 pounds, to claim say "I'm a manly man"

Levi's eyes lit up with glee, he didn't understand a single thing it said other than the words 'increase size' without missing a moment he yelled at his phone

"FUCK YEAH, IM A MANLY MAN"

He watched as his hands became thicker, watched as his dick print started to look like it was gonna rip through what was left of his clothes, his head turned to the mirror and he flexed his hulked out frame with all his might watching as it started to expand even bigger.

"FUUUUUUCCCKKK YEEEEAAHHH MAN" He screamed panting, completely out of breath as the giant before him got bigger and bigger and it was almost too much for him to even move......

#male transformation #muscle #muscle transformation #male tf #tf story #transformation #gay transformation #reality change

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