#knk as | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosedom · 3 months

Note

i need childe, he literally makes me foam at the mouth 😞 i just know he has some sort of titty (wriothesley and diluc too!!) and I'd eat his ass so good 🙏🙏

he a family man right? Iim giving him a family alright 😚

"an unnamed player has invited CHILDE to play . . . welcome home, sugar

ⓘ THIS WORK IS FOR 18+ ONLY

✦ㅤㅤ top!amab!reader, sub!bottom!childe, he's a househusband, nipple play, rimming, anal fingering & sex, spouses !!, breeding kink, creampie .

imagine workin' hard and coming home to none other than childe, your husband, on the living room sofa . . . i'm a slut for househusband childe (tho, he's def more of a slut for you)

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Thinking about Childe spread out on your couch . . . He is, honest to god, such a tease. He's got his shirt on, of course, but the top buttons are undone, giving you quite the eyeful.

"Ajax." You shut the front door behind you with a click. "What're you up to?" you have to ask him, because it's Childe—it's your Ajax, your dearly beloved.

He smiles. "Nothin'."

"Nothin'?"

"Not a thing, dear." The mischievous little bastard, he is: always acting innocent, when the sprawl of his body across the sofa is anything but.

You say his name again, a quiet, "Ajax," forcing him to 'fess up. You watch the debate flicker across his pretty eyes—so simultaneously dull yet full of something akin to if not love, devotion—, but eventually, he acquiesces.

"I wanted to welcome you home, is all," he mutters, suddenly so uncharacteristically shy—telling you exactly how he feels, tonight.

Tonight, it seems, is going to be fun.

Fun for you, that is; it'll be nothing but absolute ruination for Ajax.

"So open for me," you murmur, you press into his sensitive skin. He cries out at the feeling of your lips brushing his perineum, your tongue dipping into his hole.

He can't help but whimper at the vibrations of your voice against such an intimate spot.

"Please," he says above you, his thighs tight around your head but not tight enough to obstruct his pretty, wrecked voice. You don't heed his pleas; rather, you tongue in deeper, pressing fingers into him next to it. You've got him so wet with your saliva, thick and beading off your tongue.

You lick and kiss and press, opening him up for you—so that when he'll sit on your cock, there'll be no pain, no sting.

Quite simply, you leave him open—open not just for your cock, but for your cum, too.

Then: God, gods, whatever—you don't quite know who to pray to if not Ajax himself, when you've switched places with the man, his holy body sat snug in your lap. He squirms and whines at you, tells you, "Get on with it," but his cock is hard n' leaking all over you.

You coo, "Be patient," looking up at him through your lashes. His breath hitches—you can feel it, his heaving chest presses against your cheek. Your quick grin, there and gone, is Ajax's only warning; because you tilt your face to the side and start to nip (hah) at his nipple.

Each bite is a gentle, teasing thing; each suck is sweet and tender, but makes Ajax's back arch into you all the same; and each lick is so soothing, a balm to his aching nipples.

"Mm—" he mumbles, quite eloquently.

So, "mm?" you mumble back around a mouthful of soft pink skin. He grumbles down at you, lost in the breathlessness of his voice.

You pull off his nipples with a quiet pop. "So," you begin, wrapping a hand around his neglected erection and delighting in the way his mouth drops open, kiss-bitten lips a striking red against his pale, flushed cheeks. "Gonna ride me, sugar?" Your other hand squeezes his hip; the cool metal of your wedding ring presses so perfectly into the divots of his skin, like he was made for you—made to marry you.

Ah, but it's hard to be sappy, you think, when you've got the heavy weight of your husband sinking onto your cock, lube-slick and achey, just like his own.

"Easy now," you have to whisper. Your husband is an overeager one, so quick to please; you think, then, that it is time you please him, in turn. "You feel so good on my cock, babe."

He'll adamantly deny it tomorrow, the way he whines and clenches around you at your words. "Please," he begs, too, another thing he'll so readily deny.

What he won't deny, however, is how much he wants a family—with you, especially.

"P-please," he begs, his arms wrapped tight around your neck as you've got his legs pressed to his chest, calves hooked over your back, "Breed me, please, wanna—" he hiccups here, a small, pitiful thing, "—wanna be full."

"Is my cock not filling you enough, baby?" He cries out at a particular thrust—tender but deep, budding up against the sensitive swell of his prostate. "How disappointing."

"No, no—!"

"What is it then, 'Jax?" You lean down and lick at his nipples, swollen and sensitive from your earlier teasing. Ajax whimpers, pressing your head further into him and seizing up around you—but he doesn't fall over the precipe, not just yet.

With a breathless whine, he begs, again, "Fill me up—your cum, please. Breed me—!"

Dear, dear Ajax: husband of yours, light of your life . . . man you so dearly wish to start a family with. Sure, you can't actually breed the guy, but hey—nobody said you couldn't pretend, no? Truly, how could you say no to a face like his, scrunched up and tear-stained and begging for your cum, for your seed to take?

"Oh, pretty," you coo, letting his nipple fall from your lips, simply breathless at the heady squeeze of him on your cock. "I'll fill you up, just like you want me to . . ." You pause, though, leaning up and cupping his face, the thrusts of your hips never ceasing. "'Til you're dripping with me."

'Til he's dripping, indeed. You thrust once, twice, and your hips stutter at Ajax's sweet whimpering moan when he cums, himself, untouched, spurting all over his belly.

"So good for me, baby," you blabber, thrusting to let him ride out his orgasm and to bring you to your own. He whimpers quietly, arms tight around your neck, and begs you for your cum, still. "'m gonna fill you up," you say, finally letting your own orgasm wash over you.

He whimpers, again, soft little sounds that make your orgasm ever harder, more intense. You shiver when your cock is spent, oversensitive, and you go to pull out—gently, slowly. A thick glob of cum dribbles past his tender hole, smearing across the head of your cock and his inner thighs.

It's not your fault that you gotta thumb the dripping cum right back into him. He'll mewl weakly, utterly spent, and now you've got a big lap of beefy house husband in your lap <;3

Childe's truly such a family man; you've surely given him that which he craves, already, simply by being holding his hand in marriage.

anon . . . i want ur hand in marriage. i hope this fit ur vision <3!! diluc and wrio tiddy play in future fics . . .

'nd as for the other requests go: i'm getting there, i promise !!

JAN. 25, 2024. @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】#surprised at myself for not adding a daddy knk here #LOLL #dom reader #top reader #top amab reader #amab reader #it's like russian roulette in these tags #hahah russian like childe #ok #sub childe #bottom childe #childe x reader #sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader #🐋🐋

572 notes · View notes

fang-wife · 2 years

Text

saying “aw baby it’s okay” to a sub who’s writhing around from overstimulation, sobbing and out of it, is top ten best dom moments over. makes me giddy.

#thots #knk ;; [ overstimulation ]#or a 'i know baby i know'#10/10

9K notes · View notes

chradi · 1 year

Photo

Feeling normal about blood magic in this chili’s tonight

#atla #knk #dragon age #csm #chainsaw man #kyoukai no kanata #avatar the last airbender #jen rambles #1k #1000 #100 #200 #500

1K notes · View notes

sf9official · 1 year

Text

vlivearchive.com !!

someone has archived several groups vlives on vlivearchive.com

the groups/soloist on the site are listed below:

ace

aespa

ab6ix

ans

banana culture

billlie

brave girls

brown eyed girls

btob

chungha

cignature

clc

cravity

day6

epex

exid

fanxy red

gfriend

g-idle

girl’s day

got7

groovl1n

ha sungwoon

ichillin’

itzy

ive

kepler

knk

lapillus

lightsum

loona

lucy

majors

mamamoo

momoland

monsta x

nmixx

nu’est

pentagon

pink fantasy

pixy

red velvet

sf9

shinee

shinhwa

somi

snuper

stray kids

the boyz

twice

uniq

vav

viviz

wanna one

weeekly

wei

weki meki

wjsn

yena

(i can’t tag everyone there’s more than 30 groups lol)

1K notes · View notes

stylesloveclub · 2 years

Text

Pleasing (sp*nking blurb)

pleasing 3 aka the sp*nking blurb!!! hope u guys enjoy :-)

+++

Traveling has never really been an issue for Harry.

With his job as a world-renowned chef, he’s kind of used to flying out to different countries, cooking for different royal families, celebrities, and anyone else who could afford to book him. It’s something he actually enjoys quite a bit. There hasn’t been a country that he hasn’t enjoyed visiting, and he’ll take any excuse to leave his lonely little penthouse to take an international trip.

That’s one of the reasons why, for the past five years, he’s attended and cooked at a charity dinner hosted at the Pinacoteca di Brer in Milan. It was a fun escape from his day to day life and from the boringness that accompanied his duties as the owner of his restaurant, Pleasing.

But, this year, there’s something at home that’s making going on a trip particularly hard for him. Or rather, more specifically, someone.

He’s never really had a girlfriend or anything exclusive, other than the silly two or three month relationships he had anytime between the ages of 16-23. However, once he started becoming more and more well known in the culinary community and began his rise to a celebrity chef status, he found that sneaky links and quiet hookups worked best for him. He wasn’t all too mushy or emotional… all he was looking for back then was a quick fuck, to be honest.

But now, he’s met a cute college student named y/n, who perks up like a puppy whenever she sees him and makes his heart beat in a way that he hasn’t felt since his first ever crush (Jennifer Aniston when he was 8). Sweet y/n, who’s a waitress at his restaurant and is always perky and bright with the chefs in the back, brightening up the mood of the entire staff. Pretty y/n, who loves sleeping over at his penthouse and is always asking for kisses at the most random times.

Lovely y/n, who’s somehow managed to wriggle her way into his heart and make him never want to leave the country again.

“Harry!” she calls out from his bedroom. “Where’s your toothpaste?”

Today is Harry’s flight to Milan, so y/n had spent the night at his place just so that they could spend a bit more time with each other before being separated for a week and a half.

“In the drawer on the left!” he calls back from the kitchen. He was making them a delicious breakfast whilst she brushed her teeth and washed her face and all the other pretty things she did every morning.

They didn’t have a label on their relationship yet, but with the amount of time they spent with each other and how comfortable they were, he thinks they’re venturing into boyfriend/girlfriend territory pretty soon. They just haven’t said it out loud yet. He knows that she only has eyes for him, and he hopes that she realizes that he’s just as serious about her too. Maybe even more so.

He hears her feet padding against his hardwood floors when she enters the kitchen, hugging Harry from behind as he stands overtop the stove, watching over their eggs.

“Smells yummy,” she says, pressing a kiss to his back.

He grins. “Thanks baby.” He twists around and gives her a quick kiss to her forehead, then gently pushes her towards the barstools behind his kitchen counter. “Sit there. Don’t want you to burn yourself.”

He can practically hear her roll her eyes. “I won’t!”

He turns around and gives her a Look. She’s burned herself one too many times in his kitchen already, and she knows it. She huffs and plops down on one of the stools, “Fine.”

“Put that attitude away, puppy,” he tuts. “M’being nice and cooking you breakfast. If you’re a good girl then maybe I’ll even give you a treat.”

She smiles to herself shyly. No matter how flustered she gets every time he calls her his puppy, she loves it. Loves his teasing and his sly remarks and his cocky smirk… loves how he embarrasses her and makes her nervous. Is she a little bit weird for that? Eh. Could be weirder.

He prepares two plates of food for them and joins her at the kitchen counter. They eat in comfortable silence, enjoying the food and each other’s presence.

+++

The first thing he does when he lands in Milan is call her. Like– literally, as soon as the plane's wheels touch the ground, he takes his phone off airplane mode and dials her number.

“Harry?” she answers sleepily after only two rings.

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs sweetly. “I just landed. Were you sleeping?”

“Mhm. It’s like two in the morning here.”

“Oh, m’sorry. Should’ve checked the time difference before I called.” It was only 11 AM for Harry in Italy.

“No don’t be sorry, I told you to call me when you landed,” she says, voice still sleepy. He can imagine her puffy eyes and how she’s probably rubbing at them right now with her fist. “I was trying to stay up but I fell asleep while reading.”

“What book?” he asks, just wanting to hear her sweet voice talking to him.

“My Year of Rest and Relaxation. The girl in it keeps taking sleep medicine and sleeping for days at a time and it made me kinda sleepy.”

“You should go back to sleep,” he says, even though he’d love to keep her on the phone.

“M’kay,” she hums. “Can I call you in the morning?”

He smiles. “Of course baby. I’ll have my phone with me so that I don’t miss your call.”

“Okay. G’night, Harry.” He can hear the smile in her voice through the phone.

“Sleep well.”

He hangs up reluctantly. How was he supposed to survive the next nine days when he already misses her so much?

+++

They call every day.

She facetimes him every night from her bed, snuggled into her duvet with a fluffy pillow propped behind her bed, and he calls her every time he sees something that he thinks she might like. Whether he’s at a cute vendor market, or roaming the gardens of a fancy Italian palace, she’s always the thing at the front of his mind. He imagines how much she would’ve loved the view of the Italian coast, how beautiful she would look sitting in the tall grass in the park, how she would’ve stopped to smell all the beautiful flowers in the rose garden by his hotel.

That’s one of the things he likes so much about y/n. She’s the type of person who stops to smell flowers, who could brighten up a room just by saying hello. She breathes life into him with her sunshine attitude and rose colored view on life. She’s young and sweet and charming and just… an amazing part of his life.

He sends her pictures of the food he cooks and the wine he drinks, and she sends back silly selfies of herself that made him stop in the middle of the grocery store just to smile down at her picture.

And, when he texts her at 1 AM from his hotel bed about how much he misses her, she facetimes him from the bath as a cute little surprise. The bathwater is tinted pink and is just opaque enough to hide her body under the water, a result of a rose scented bath bomb she’d plopped into the water before she climbed in.

“Baby,” he groans when he sees the round tops of her breasts peeking out from the water, “Why’re you teasing me?”

She giggled, “Thought it would be a nice surprise. I bet you must be feeling pretty lonely all alone in your hotel room.” She readjusts the camera and he can hear the water sloshing around as she props him up on the edge of the bath. He can tell that her breasts are out of the water, her nipples probably hard from the cool air, but she’s mean, and angles the camera in a way that it cuts off right below her collarbones. “I know I’m feeling rather lonely… wish you were here to take care of me,” she sighs prettily. Her hands are rubbing her neck seductively, tilting her head back to expose her throat to him – she knows how much he loves kissing her there. He can see the remnants of one of his love bites right below her ear.

“You’re killing me baby, m’so fucking hard.” He rubs himself through his briefs, his cock a thick, prominent outline under the fabric.

“Mm, I know. I miss you so bad,” she whimpers, her hands sliding down her chest and out of frame. A soft gasp falls from her throat as she begins playing with her tits. She gropes herself, rubbing and pinching at her pebbled nipples, and getting herself all worked up with Harry on the phone. Except, he can’t see anything except for her furrowed eyebrows and pouty lips.

“Come on puppy, stop playing. Move the camera, let me watch,” he almost begs. But, of course, y/n’s in a teasing mood.

“I dunno, Harry. Don’t know if I wanna let you see after you left me all alone here.” She opens her eyes and looks into the camera, her pupils blown out with lust. “M’gonna have to get off all by myself.”

He shuts his eyes and groans to the ceiling, fishing his cock out and sliding his hand down his shaft softly.

“S’not as good as when you do it,” she whines. He can only imagine what she’s doing now. Probably playing with her clit under the water, or still teasing her tits. Maybe she’s even slipped a finger inside herself.

“You’re mean, puppy,” he growls, stern gaze on his face as he watches her get herself off. He’s tugging at his cock at a slow pace, circling around the top and smearing his cum down to lubricate the slide. “Whining all pretty about how much you miss me and not showing me? You’re bein’ a bad girl.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” she teases. “You’re not here.”

“Oh, you’re so in for it when I get back,” he groans, picking up the pace.

The thought of what he might do to her only excites her, so she decides to push his buttons just a bit more. “You sound like you’re busy… I’ll let you get back to whatever you’re doing.” She smiles mischievously. “M’gonna finish myself off here.”

“Baby, don’t you dare hang up that phone–,” he demands through a moan, but she cuts him off.

“Byeee.”

The call disconnects, and Harry’s left staring at his own reflection in his cell phone screen. Cock angry and leaking, harder than ever and bobbing up in the air.

She’s gonna regret doing that.

+++

The day after the charity dinner, Harry books a flight back home. He’d initially planned on staying in Milan for a couple more days, just to appreciate the country a bit more and have a few more days in paradise. But he made those plans before y/n. Now, everyday spent away from her was a day in hell. Especially after the stunt she pulled.

He didn’t even tell her that he was coming back, opting to surprise her during her shift at his restaurant. He walks into the back kitchen and sees her talking with one of her waitress friends, Grace. He clears his throat loudly. The two waitresses immediately stop talking and turn to him, an intimidated look on both of their faces. Y/n’s eyes, however, also show a glimmer of puppy-like excitement shining in her eyes.

“Y/n, I’d like a word with you,” he says plainly, turning around and expecting her to follow him. Of course, she does so with no hesitation, following him into his office and shutting the door behind herself.

Harry leans back on his office table, half-sitting on it, and motions for y/n to come to him. She bounces on her toes excitedly, a huge smile taking over her face. She practically runs to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his lips. One of Harry’s hands comes up to hold her face steady, while his other hand rests on his desk, supporting his weight as he leans on it.

“Hi,” she whispers giddily. “I missed you so much.”

“Hi puppy.” His signature smirk is planted on his lips. “Missed you more.”

“What are you doing back already? I thought your flight wasn’t for another three days.”

“You think I was just gonna sit around in Italy after that stunt you pulled?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. She gets bashful all of a sudden, looking down at the floor with a shy smile.

“Gettin’ all shy on me?” he tuts. “Where was this shy little girl when you were getting yourself off in the bath, hm?”

“Harryy–” she whines, burying her face in his chest at his vulgar words.

He tsks. “Don’t think that’s what you call me. We’re at work, aren’t we?”

She blinks up at him with her wide eyes. “Sorry, Mr. Styles.”

“Got me so fuckin’ hard, then hung up the phone.” His hand slides down her waist then around to rest on her ass. “Did you go and get yourself off afterwards? Don’t lie.”

She whimpers as his big hands sit heavily on her. “Yes, sir,” she says guiltily.

“You were a bad, bad girl,” he tuts. She hides her face in his chest again, and he decides to test the waters. “I think… you need to be taught a lesson, no?”

She freezes.

“I-I think so too,” she shyly agrees.

He hums, his hands now rubbing large circles on her ass. “Does a spanking sound like a good enough punishment?”

She swallows thickly, excitement bubbling up her tummy. “Yeah that– that sounds good.”

He nods. “Bend over,” he demands, making room for her to lean onto his desk. Her chest lays on the surface of his desk, her face pressed against the wood. Harry stands behind her, admiring her ass that’s sticking out. Her black waitressing skirt fits tight against its roundness, and her sheer black tights hug her legs seductively. He gently rubs his large hand on her bum, almost soothingly, as if he’s preparing her for what’s about to ensue.

“You’ll tell me if it gets to be too much, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” she peeps compliantly.

With that, he brings his hand down for the first smack against her ass. She jolts forward, surprised at the shock of his hand, and her fingers grip onto the edge of the table. Despite the sharp pain, however, her pussy clenches. She likes this.

“Count them for me,” he demands.

“One,” she whimpers against his wooden desk.

Another smack comes down. “Two.”

Three and four come down in quick successions, one on each cheek, and send bolts of pleasure straight to her core. Before he comes down with five, he yanks up her skirt, revealing her ass, covered in her sheer tights. The see through fabric stretches around her soft ass, and it shows off how supple and round her bum is. When his palm comes down against her for the sixth, he can see the way it jiggles satisfyingly.

He takes a break between seven and eight to just rub his palm over her and grab at her ass cheeks, groping them harshly before coming down with a smack. That really makes y/n wet. Feeling him manhandle and play with her ass… it just does things to her. Harry can see it through her sheer tights.

“You like this, don’t you, puppy?” he mocks. “I can see you getting wet, dirty girl.”

She whines. With the way she’s burying her face into her arms, you’d think that she’s super embarrassed, but she wriggles her ass in the air, shamelessly asking for more. She loves it when Harry teases her and embarrasses her… gosh, he’s just getting her so hot and bothered.

“Nine,” she cries out, looking back at Harry for the first time to see the way he’s eyeing her. He’s practically devouring her with his eyes, his gaze fixated on the curve of her spine as she sticks her ass out, on how her sheer tights show off her soft ass, and on her wet center. Her pussy has leaked not only through her flimsy little panties, but also through the tights. He runs his hand over her center and feels that the fabric there is slick. Y/n moans, pussy fluttering at even the lightest touch.

He comes down with his final smack. “Ten.” Her ass stings as he gently rubs his hand over where he just hit. “I think that’s enough for now, what do you think?” he asks her.

“W-whatever you think is best, sir.”

‘What a well trained puppy I’ve got,” he murmurs. “You know exactly what to say to make me happy, hm? If you keep this good behavior up, maybe I’ll go easier on you when we get home.”

She turns around to face him, righting her skirt. “There’s more?” she says with a pout. “Did y’think I’d let you off with just a spanking? You’re smarter than that puppy.” He grabs her face in his hands. “I’ve still got to fuck you and make up for how hard you left me the other night.” She looks up at him with wide, almost hypnotized eyes. “Unless,” he purrs, “you want me to go easier on you, baby. Just say the words.” He knows this is new, unexplored territory, and her comfortability is the most important part of this entire game that they’re playing.

“No,” she murmurs, “I-I think I still need to be taught a lesson, sir.”

He smiles down at her and pats her ass. “M’kay puppy. Get back to work. We’ll talk more when we get home.”

+++

Harry doesn’t say anything to her when she comes into his office after she’s done with her shift.

Nor does he say anything as he opens the door for her as they leave. They sit in tense silence as they drive home, his only acknowledgement of her presence being the hand he rests on her thigh. He rubs tantalizing circles on her skin. It makes her heart race.

They ride the elevator up to his penthouse in silence as well, and y/n feels like she’s going to lose her mind. He stands stoically, facing the elevator doors with his hands politely held behind his back, as if he were the only one in the elevator at that moment. All she wants is for Harry to acknowledge her. For him to touch her, talk to her – even pull her over his lap and spank her again!

But no. He doesn’t even look at her as they arrive at his floor, stepping out of the elevator and letting y/n follow him out like a dumb puppy.

He takes off his suit jacket and undoes the top buttons of his dress shirt, letting himself get comfortable now that he’s finally home. Normally, y/n would have no problem doing the same. She’d take off her uncomfortable clothes and walk around his apartment in her underwear, head towards his fridge and much on his leftovers, or flop onto the couch and convince Harry to cuddle with her. But today, she feels so out of place. The anticipation of what he has planned for her is clouding her mind, debilitating her from making herself at home until Harry gives her an order and tells her what to do.

He disappears into his bedroom. Y/n stands dumbly in the middle of his living room. She wonders if she’s meant to follow him in, but worries that she’s misreading the situation and that he just wants to be left alone. It’d be really helpful if he’d just look at her, she thinks to herself. After a minute of contemplating, she decides to follow him.

She gently makes her way towards the bedroom, her feet barely making noise against the hardwood floor, and finds his door half-way open. “Harry?” she peeps, knocking timidly. She peeks her head in and finds him standing by the edge of his bed, unbuttoning the wrists of his shirt and rolling them up his forearms.

Finally, he spares a glance at her. His eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes stern, but it doesn’t matter to y/n. At least he’s acknowledging her.

He looks down again and purses his lips, thinking deeply. “Oh, puppy,” he sighs, “What am I gonna do with you.” She stands awkwardly in the door frame, nervously toeing at the floor.

Harry sits down on the edge of the bed, his legs spreading naturally when he sits. He looks at her darkly, and pats his thigh. “Come here,” he orders her. She barely takes one step into the room before he stops her. “Crawl.”

She stops in her tracks. “W-what?” she asks, looking up at him skittishly.

“Crawl to me,” he says, unblinking.

He can see a few gears turning in her head, before she drops to her knees.

Her hands press against the hardwood floors, her knees bruising as she crawls to him. Her right arm moves forward, followed by her left, moving so elegantly that she wonders if Harry’s done something to alter her brain chemistry and program her to crawl to him without stumbling over herself or hiding with shame. She can see her own reflection in his polished hardwood floors as she crawls, but something about it makes her feel humiliated and weak, so she lifts her eyes and to meet Harry’s gaze instead.

He’s staring at her with hungry eyes. Under his gaze, she feels empowered. Sexy. He’s looking at her like he wants to ruin her. She crawls to him with confidence, excited to be the little mouse in this game of his.

When she finally reaches his feet, she perches herself on her knees between his spread legs. His hand caresses her jaw sweetly and she leans into his touch. Her eyes flutter shut momentarily, feeling comforted by his touch. Then she blinks them open and stares up at him with her innocent wide eyed gaze.

“Are you okay with all this?” he double checks, murmuring softly to her while tracing his thumb over her cheekbone gently.

She smiles and nods. “M’excited,” she even whispers.

He smirks. His gaze falls down to her lips, and he outlines her heart shaped cupid's bow with his thumb. His eyes darken. “Why don’t you go ahead and get me out, then?”

She complies easily, unbuttoning his pants and reaching into his briefs to pull out his cock. His tip is pink and drippy, and his shaft feels heavy in her palm. She tugs his pants down just enough so that his round and swollen balls also hang out at the base of his cock. Y/n feels inclined to press a kiss against his blunt tip, but Harry’s only told her to take him out so far… nothing about sucking him off yet. “Can I?” she asks, blinking up at him cutely. “Please, sir?”

“We’re not at work anymore… I think there’s something else I’d like to hear you call me,” he says darkly. “Can you say please, daddy?”

Y/n’s eyes round out. “Please, daddy?” she says in her sugary sweet voice, testing out how the word feels in her mouth. She finds that she rather likes it, especially with how Harry’s green eyes turn nearly black.

“Go ahead, puppy,” he coos. She takes him into her mouth eagerly. She wraps her lips round his cock as soon as he gives her the green light, assessing how he feels against her tongue and how wide she has to open her mouth to fit his girth. She pushes herself down to see how much of him it takes until her mouth is stuffed full, and finds that she can only take about half of him without gagging.

She lets herself be messy, her spit gathering in her mouth and dribbling down his cock, then pulls off. She glides her hand up and down, smearing her spit down to the parts of his cock that she couldn’t reach, and holds him steady as she kisses his tip. Harry smiles down at her fondly. How could she be so sweet and innocent during such a filthy act, sweetly kissing his cock as if her eyes aren’t watering from how big he is?

“Good girl,” he murmurs as she kisses her way down the length of his cock, down to his balls. She kisses them too, feeling how swollen and round they are under her lips. Taking them into her mouth one at a time, she lulls them around until they’re dripping with her spit. Her tongue rolls around them, licking the seam between them, sucking on each one gently. She’s thankful that he smells good, or else she wouldn’t be able to enjoy him this indulgently. He smells and tastes clean, his skin smooth and coarse hair well groomed. It makes her job so much easier and enjoyable.

She pulls off of his balls with a pop then licks up his entire length, starting from the base and going up until she can swirl her tongue around his tip. Stuffing him back into her mouth, she tries to get him deeper this time – but she’s never been that good at taking cock down her throat. She makes up for it by twisting her hands over the parts she can’t reach.

She’s messy and sloppy, licking and drooling all over him like how an excited puppy licks their owner. Wet noises come from where the thick tip of his cock makes contact with the back of her mouth, and her hands sound slick as they play with and tug at his balls. Harry’s fingers hold her head steady as she bobs up and down, his face unmoving. If it weren’t for how much he was leaking in her mouth, she’d be worried that she wasn’t doing a good job. He remains calm and composed for the entire time she’s been sucking him off, the only indication of the fact that he’s getting sucked off being how he calls her his good girl and pushes her head down.

He pulls her off of his cock by her hair, yanking her head back. Her lips are slick and swollen, slightly hanging open as she softly pants. “Look at you, my eager little puppy. Who knew you’d be so filthy?” he murmurs. She looks up at him sweetly, tongue peeking out just the slightest bit and eager to get back on him.

Really, he never would’ve expected his shy little y/n to suck him off so eagerly, take his balls into her mouth and smear his precum all over her lips. He can tell that she just wants to make him happy. She doesn’t care about being messy, as long as she’s making him feel good. And he loves messy. Seeing her watery eyes and spit slicked lips makes his heart pound and cock twitch. He can’t have her sucking him off any longer or else he’d burst in her mouth.

“That’s enough pup…” he says, pushing her up from her knees. “Why don’t you take off your little skirt for me, hm?”

She stands up and unzips them, letting them fall to the floor and around her feet.

“Shirt too,” he says, tugging at his cock languidly. She takes it off and drops it onto the floor right next to her shirt, standing in front of him in just her little nude bra and thin panties.

He motions for her to come to him. “C’mere.” She steps over the pile of clothes delicately and climbs onto him, straddling his lap. She can feel his bare cock rubbing against her thigh.

He kisses her deeply, his hands rubbing up and down her sides, feeling her soft, bare skin rise with goosebumps under his touch. His tongue licks and the seam of her lips and his lips pucker so beautifully against hers that she can’t help but whimper. She breathes heavily through her nose as the noise catches in her throat, and her fingers desperately work at the buttons of Harry’s shirt. Fumbling only a little bit, she manages to undo all the buttons and push the shirt off of his broad shoulders. Harry helps her with the rest of it, tugging it off his arms and throwing it onto the floor, all with his eyes closed as he groans into her mouth.

She holds onto his shoulders now and ruts her panty-clad clit onto his chiseled abdomen. Harry groans out and pulls away to watch her push her hips forward and grind her wet clit onto his abs. He can feel how warm and wet she is through her panties, and it makes his eyes roll back into his head. He kisses her again, this time twice as hard and as eagerly.

His fingers undo her bra as he kisses her, sliding it down her arms and throwing it somewhere behind him. He honestly feels like it’s a crime that he doesn’t get to spend enough time with her pretty tits, that she confines them to a bra and hides them away from him. She should walk around his apartment shirtless 24/7, he thinks, so that he can have free range to them.

He plays with her tits contently now, cupping one breast in each palm and thumbing at her nipples. Her tits are made to fit into his hand, round and supple and filling his hand perfectly. He rolls them around, squeezes them, jiggles them – plays with them as if he were a prepubescent boy seeing tits for the first time. It sends shocks down to her pussy, every time he grazes her sensitive nipples, and she mewls desperately.

“Daddy, please,” she cries, pulling away from his lips. She feels hot and tingly in her core, “Please fuck me.”

Harry doesn’t hesitate, releasing her tits with one final grope. His hands find her hips, holding her steady with one hand, while his other hand feels her soaking panties. He rubs his index finger against her slit through her panties and can feel the way she’s sticking to them, the outline of her lips so perfectly huggled by the thin panties. The material is slick, literally drenched with her wetness. He pulls the center of her panties to the side, revealing her dripping pussy, and she can feel her slickness clinging to the fabric.

With her panties now out of the way, Harry grabs his cock and aligns it with her hole. He paints his leaking cock against her slit, rubbing his tip through her lips for a few strokes, before he lets himself sink into her. She gasps and hides her face in the crook of his neck, letting him guide her hips down slowly. His cock is the biggest she’s ever had, and any time he fucks her he needs to give her a few seconds to stretch out and adjust. Plus with her on top of him, he somehow feels even bigger, reaching deeper into her.

Harry thankfully doesn’t push her, simply holding her hips so that her thighs don’t get sore from holding herself up, and guides her down at an easy pace. “Ready?” he asks when he feels her try to lift herself up on his cock. She nods eagerly, her face still buried in his neck. He uses his hold on her hips to pull her up and down. Each time she goes up, he pulls her down a little bit father, inching his cock deeper and deeper into her.

She’s slick and so warm, and it feels heavenly around Harry’s cock. Sucking him off had aroused her massively, as well as how he’d played with her tits. But getting on her knees and crawling to him, feeling so dirty and degraded, that’s what really got her going. Plus the way he’s manhandling her right now, bouncing her on his cock without her doing any work… it makes her head spin.

He grabs her by her hair and pulls her head back, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes are dreamy, and she can barely keep them open when she feels him rubbing against her g-spot. Her mouth drops open in a high pitched whimper, and Harry takes it as an opportunity to kiss her, sticking his tongue into her open mouth and rubbing against hers hotly. Y/n loves the feeling of his tongue in her mouth, loves how dirty and erotic their open mouthed kiss is. While they make out sloppily, Harry starts bouncing her faster, sheathing his cock deeper into her each time he lifts her. Y/n, who’d been enjoying herself like a princess while Harry did all the work, now swivels her hips so that she feels his cockhead rub against her front wall deliciously. Her nails dig into his shoulders as she feels the pressure building in her tummy, and her moans grow higher and more frequent.

Harry bites her bottom lip, kisses her open mouth, and breathes in every single one of her whines and whimpers. Her tits are bouncing against his chest, and his back burns erotically at the feeling of her clawing at him. He can feel y/n’s pussy fluttering around him and knows that she’s just about to cum, her voice breaking around a moan and her arms tightening around his shoulders. He’s moving her on his cock like a rag doll, and all she can do is hold on as she finally cums, shrieking out with her orgasm. Harry doesn’t even give her a minute to come down from her high, lifting her off of his cock and throwing her onto the bed next to him. Her body is still twitching with the remnants of her orgasm from being on top of him, but he’s already rearranging her so that she’s on her hands and knees for him.

He stands at the edge of the bed and strips himself of his pants that had still been around his hips while she was riding him and strokes his cock, shiny with her slickness. It’s quite the sight for Harry, seeing y/n holding herself up on her shaky arms with her holes spread open and ready for him. Her poor little pussy looks wet and fucked raw, thoroughly stretched by the size of his cock.

Harry gets on the bed behind her and steadies himself on his knees. He guides his cock to her hole once more, and thrusts into her in one, smooth motion. Y/n cries out, fingers gripping at the sheets desperately. There’s no wait for her to adjust this time – Harry just starts pounding into her mercilessly, using her to get himself to his end.

Her ass jiggles with every one of his thrusts, skin slapping against her already sore bum. High pitched moans fall from her lips, little uh, uh, uh’s that match the rhythm of his hips. His hands hold her hips so tightly that he’s leaving indents in her soft skin, keeping her in place while he rams into her. Then he starts using his grip on her hips to yank her backwards, making her meet his thrusts halfway and bouncing her on his cock.

He’s going so intensely that her entire body is shaking, pounding so hard that she can’t even hold herself up. The upper half of her body collapses onto the bed, her arms numb as they lay next to her head and grab onto the sheets. Her back now arches beautifully as she lays there, head down ass up, and Harry decides that this is his favorite view of her. Her ass is up in the air and spread open in front of him, and the view of his cock pistoning into her is magnificent like this. He leans forward and braces his arms on either side of her head, and somehow manages to plow into her even harder. Y/n squeals, she feels her toes curling and her fingers twisting into the sheets.

She makes no move to take control over her body, letting Harry do anything and everything he wants while she lays there and takes it. She’s losing her mind, and can barely comprehend her own thoughts with how good Harry’s fucking her.

Her face is pressed into his sheets and her hair is a mess behind her, sweaty and sticking to her face from how exerted she is. Harry grabs a fistfull of her hair and pulls their bodies back so that they’re both back up on their knees, with her back pressed against his chest and his chin resting on her shoulder. “That’s my good girl,” he whispers, his thrusts not missing a beat, “Taking me so well.”

“Daddy,” she whines, her voice weak and watery.

He groans into her ear, “m’gonna cum baby. Can you take me in your mouth? Be a good girl and swallow daddy’s cum?”

“Yes daddy, yes!” she mewls.

Harry lets go of the grip he has on her hair, pulling out of her and immediately bringing his hand down to jerk himself off, not wanting to lose the high that he’s already gotten so close to. Y/n, despite not being able to feel her limbs from how hard she’s just been fucked, manages to get on her hands and knees in front of Harry. She lines up her face with his cock and sticks her tongue out, looking up at him with her puppy eyes. He taps his tips against her tongue as he strokes himself, his hips jerking into his hand harshly and his balls tightening. He cums with a low groan, streaks of his cum painting y/n’s pretty little mouth. She’s good, so good, keeping her tongue out and not even flinching when he misses her open mouth and spurts onto her lips. When he’s done, she swallows all of him down in one big gulp, her throat bobbing, and it makes Harry want to take her all over again. She licks up the little spurt of his cum that had landed on her lip too, and Harry pulls her up by her arm and kisses her deeply.

“Say thank you daddy,” he says, their lips making a soft click sound as he pulls away from her.

She obeys easily and repeats with her raw voice, “thank you daddy.”

He groans. “My good little puppy,” he leans down for another kiss, “You’re filthy, baby.” She has to wrap her arms around him to hold herself up, her legs too shaky to support her own weight. Her eyes are watery, her lips swollen and bitten raw, and best of all, Harry thinks, her cheeks are glowing with an orgasmic shine. Despite how ruined she looks, she smiles at him sweetly.

How in the world did he get so lucky to have a girl as sweet as y/n?

+++

NEXT PLEASING BLURB (JEALOUS PLEASINGRRY/ WHAT HE WOULD DO IF ONE OF THE OTHER STAFF MEMBERS FLIRTED W Y/N) + EXCLUSIVE PLEASINGRRY COLLAR/LEASH CONCEPTS ARE NOW POSTED ON PATREON!!! :D HOPE U LOVED IT <3

#harry smut #harry styles smut #daddy harry #daddy harry styles #harry styles daddy #daddy!harry #dom!harry #dom harry #dom harry styles #harry styles daddy knk #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots

2K notes · View notes

summer-arts · 5 months

Text

how unpleasant

speedpaint | commission info

#i show this in the speedpaint but this is a re-draw of some official knk art that i've always really liked #mirai kuriyama #kyoukai no kanata #knk art #my art

168 notes · View notes

anlian-aishang · 1 year

Text

He could feel you staring. And indeed, you were. God, you sighed to yourself, he was so fucking beautiful.

tags: levi x reader, angst, smut, hurt-comfort, gun mention, injury descriptions, self-sacrificial thoughts, caretaking, insecurity [felt by levi], body worship, canonverse, fem!reader.

word count: 5400

It was a miracle you found them, even more miraculous that Hange did not snipe you first. Over the barrel of the gun, their hazel eyes ran bloodshot. A murderous, fight-or-flight fear you had never seen on the commander’s face. If not for the moonlight that outlined your surrendering hands, surely, you would have joined the two corpses on the ground between you both.

“Hange!!” Your frantic scream scared sleeping birds off their branches. Flaps of their wings matched the spasms in your nerves. “It’s me!”

Your ears picked up the graze of metal as their finger twitched along the trigger. Eyes focused in to meet theirs in promise. Your jaw fell further, not at the proximity between you and death, but at the single tear that slid down their cheek. Trauma spilling over Hange’s bright and bubbly facade.

They lowered the rifle with a sigh, one you could see in the thick white cloud of their breath. With an exhausted exhale, beneath their hood, they offered.

“Do you want to see him?”

// // //

Hange walked slower than you would have liked. On the other hand, they probably thought you were going too fast. They had not had the time to blink, let alone sleep, in days. It was what you reminded yourself as you dampened your pace for their sake, the sedative to your aching legs, yearning to sprint to him.

They made intentional small talk, asking how your intelligence missions were going - wondering if you had a good grasp on what the Yeagerists were up to. Of course, it was all pointless now. Obviously, Floch and his faction had succeeded. The end of the world had already started.

The commander could tell, and you knew that they could. They would not ask you such blatantly meaningless questions, unless there was something to hide.

“Hange,” your voice was deathly low, “just tell me.” Eye contact deliberately, mutually avoided. “How bad is it?”

Another heavy sigh. Twigs crunched beneath boots. A silence that felt like forever, that almost spoke for itself. Hange looked to the starry sky above, and for a moment, your heart sank. Is he…?!

Hange shot you a smirk, pained but genuine. “He’s a tough lil guy, isn’t he?”

He’s alive.

“Anyone else would be sauteed to bits, and to be honest -” Hange parsed, “- I still can’t figure out how he made it.”

Sauteed. Fire? Bits. An explosion?

“I can only think -” they gave a loose tug of their hair tie, “- it’s because he’s an Ackerman.”

You had not put it all together, but the bloodstained patch of grass, the worn handle with lone fingers attached, the bodies of former comrades rotting outside - all the traces you tracked along your journey here painted an awfully vivid picture. Through those tiny details, you constructed the larger story. Levi had been targeted, and if not for Hange’s intervention, your partner would have been murdered by either Zeke’s or the Yeagerists’ hands.

Yet, in the commander, you could sense a tremendous guilt. Blinded by Levi’s current critical condition, or perhaps the recent killings of their subordinates, they saw themselves as no hero. Finally, you recognized why Hange was slugging along: a delay. Conscious or not. Procrastinating the revelation of the new Levi to his old lover.

While they wallowed in their own failures, you only saw their successes. Each trudge of their steps against the earth felt heavy, you longed to lighten them, to have Hange see themselves as the savior they were.

“No, Hange.” A gentle hand to their back. They startled, then soothed, at your touch. “It’s because of you.”

With hesitation, they finally met your gaze. Their skin a staunch pale even in this pitch black night. A stark frown, regrets within. And Levi would not have liked that.

“He’s alive, not because of his last name, but because of you.” Your delicate touch morphed to a fierce grip, shaking them. “Hange, please,” clenched teeth, quivering lip, “you know that, right?”

Certainly, they were smart enough to know that.

Hange pushed a single finger to their glasses, “Y…Yeah.”

“Hange.” Your smile was both sincere and serious. You clutched their hand with both of yours and squeezed, “Thank you.”

They cleared their throat and swallowed, an awkward, guilty laugh. “Maybe you should save your thanks until you see him.”

// // //

Nauseous with both fright and excitement. Anxious as you anticipated touching him, counterbalanced with the fear of causing him further pain. Relief as you watched his chest rise and fall. Disheartened at how labored those breaths were. The emotions you felt at his sight, all but indescribable.

Considerate as you always were - even to your own detriment - it was what everyone loved about you, especially him. Knowing how defeated Hange felt, and in the wake of all the reassurance you had provided them on your walk, you knew all your comforting efforts would have been dismantled if you started to break down. Subduing yourself, you clenched fists at your sides and dug your nails into your palms. Trembling lip dipped beneath your teeth, biting down to still. Toes curled within your leather boots, stabling yourself as knees began to buckle.

Witnessing your reunion, emotions were contagious to Hange. They artificially lifted their voice and offered instructions - a thin veil of distraction. “Well!” Hange gleamed, “He’s been out for a couple hours now, ever since Eren's… well, you know.”

That was one way to put it.

“I really have no idea when he’ll wake up, but he will.” Hange promised. “If he doesn’t get up on his own, you may have to help him. Bandages need changing in a few.”

Bandages? You had yet to notice until then. Upon entering the camp, you froze the moment you saw him. At that distance, he was just a bundle of blankets. You brought your sleeve to your eyes and wiped away the blur, and only then did you see the gauze that engulfed his face.

Another pang of nausea. Mouth gaped to sob. You threw your forearm over it. A contrived cough to conceal your reaction, it failed.

Behind you, Hange frowned. This time, it was their turn to cup your shoulder in their hand. In your peripheral vision, they pointed to a decorated tree stump. “When you do, make sure to clean his wounds first.” Atop the makeshift table, an even more crude construction was this mobile infirmary. Missing even the bare minimums of battlefield first-aid. More horrific than not: black thread, long needle. Thin vial of clear liquid was significantly less than full. Its alcoholic sting, you swore you could smell it from here. The thought of pouring that shit on him made your stomach flip again.

“If you didn’t come, I was going to have to do it,” they chuckled this time, instead of severity, Hange used a lighthearted approach to comfort you, “but I’m sure he’ll be more receptive to you putting him through pain! It seems you’ve got the magic touch.”

If Levi was awake, oh - a swift ass-beating that would’ve been, but you were much more merciful, happy to share a harmony in crude humor. A moment of blissful ignorance in an ignorant, humorless world. Your smile widened to a grin and you tossed a playful shoo, “Get out of here, you.”

You had not expected them to take you seriously. Hange smiled contentedly, turned on their heel, and strode even deeper into unexplored forest. A dramatic shift in mood as you swerved from joking to panicking, “Wait - where are - what are - where are you going?”

Hange shrugged their shoulders, palms turned up to the sky. No slow in their pace, not even a glance back to you as they called, “Can’t save the world on no sleep!”

As their figure grew tinier, your jaw that had fallen open gradually began to close. Their footsteps faded away, from faint to silent. Whether they eventually flopped from fatigue or continued their stride, you never found out for sure. You saw how exhausted they were, mentally and physically. At the same time, you could only imagine the pressure and responsibility they must have felt. Insomnia or collapse? Likely a coin flip.

And just like that, the two of you were alone.

// // //

Survivor’s guilt, you were familiar with. After this long in the Scouts, among those you knew, those who had experienced it outnumbered those who had not. You yourself had lost count of your diagnoses.

But what the fuck was this?

He had not died. He wouldn’t die, that’s what Hange said. You had not taken your eyes off him, not for one moment, and his breaths were as recognizable as your own. Undeniably alive, so why were you grieving?

Perhaps it was regret. Without him there to talk you out of it, you wondered why you shouldn’t feel any and spiraled into its acupuncture. If only you had been at the right place at the right time - there were so many chances to stop it! You could have overheard any conversation about the wine and warned him: stay the hardass captain, the wine’s dangerous! More intelligence about Zeke could’ve shown you how reckless he was, and if you had communicated that to Levi, he would’ve known better than to bring thunder spears anywhere near him. Fuck, even if you had just been there! Maybe you could have thrown yourself between Levi and the explosion. Better me than him.

Your hand snapped to your head and seized a punishing pull of your hair. You knew better than to think such thoughts. Not even for your own sake, but for his: he wouldn’t want you to feel that way!

It was disrespectful to him, and let us respect the wishes of the dead.

You fucking idiot, he’s not dead!

Angst of this intensity, at any other time, you would scream, throw things, thrash about. But with your insomniac sound asleep beside you, you would not even allow yourself that release. All you could do was mewl silently, rip grass from the ground, and hug your knees to your pitted chest.

That lasted a couple hours, and it may have even longer, but the chill hit you like an early winter. Goosebumps had pricked your skin, chattering teeth had become audible. And if you were cold - he must be freezing.

Selfish. Selfish! You chastised yourself as you stood from your stone turned seat. Seemed like there was some spare wood from whatever Hange’s latest project was, you set it gently atop the fire, cringed when it collapsed with a series of clatters. You winced and checked on Levi. Still sound asleep. The last two logs, you set them on the side closest to him, simultaneously the least and most you could do to keep him warm.

But was it?

He looked so tiny on the forest floor so vast. So lonely on that slate of tarp. The crickets began to chirp: there’s room for you, too.

Still, you stood there debating. Weighing internally: better to lay beside him or leave him be? You did not want to wake him, for he appeared to be in a semi-comfortable peace. At the same time, each time he shivered, you felt your veins run cold with responsiblity. Not doing a very good job at the whole caretaking, significant other task.

Nature made the choice for you. A merciless gust of wind hissed through the trees, breaking branches along the way. Acorns and twigs tumbled to the ground with the gravity of heavy hail. Icy was its howl, providing only seconds of warning before the sharp drop in temperature. Almost immediately, the captain whimpered himself awake and bunched the blanket to his body. Even faster, your sprint to his side.

Like a survivor to a raft, a plant to spring rain, that was how you clutched him. “Levi…” you soothed, “Levi, it’s me.”

Trying to open his eyes, eye, induced a splitting headache. Thankfully, his hearing had recovered from the piercing explosion and was able to recognize: it was you. Throat scathed dry, Levi failed to summon a response. The apple of his neck twitched in his attempt at a swallow. Water.

In the pocket of your cape, a full canteen, “Thirsty?”

A subtle nod was all he could muster. Mouth sealed off, streaks of red tainted the white gauze, you supposed it was time. Time to strip off his bandages, to see him again, to learn what had happened.

Hange had debriefed you. There was no need to ask. His pupil was a lens through which you could see it all. The disbelief still raw, the disappointment in himself, the trauma glazed over. Curiosity screamed within you, longing to know everything from the tiniest details to the major events. Louder, though, was your urge to tend to him - and you knew that an interrogation was not the right remedy.

There was something more subtle, and perhaps even more telling than words.

“Levi, let me see.”

Hesitation.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

Normally, he would slip in a snide remark. His own take on a joke. Tonight, it wasn’t there.

But you were right, it was time. He felt disgusting. Gauze glued to his face - blood and sweat - the neat freak squirmed. The cool air of a wilderness night and spring water down his throat sounded most refreshing.

Refreshing - like the new perspective you would have of him. Levi had not seen himself yet, but based on the immense pain he felt, his face of all places, he knew it couldn’t be pretty. In that way, perhaps it would have been easier if it was Hange. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him, but you were the only exception. You alone could scare him, the fear of how you would react to your lover turned monster.

Slowly, you reached to your hip and unsheathed your dagger. Trustworthy eye contact silently conveyed that you would cut him free. Levi answered with a slow blink, an attempt at a smile, an attempt that was quickly retracted by his newly irritated nerves. They screamed at him for it, he subdued them by digging his nails - all eight of them - into his palms. With a mere fraction of his face visible, your ever stoic Levi looked even more so. His mouth completely covered, you misread his response. Your first hint towards a long road of recovery ahead, your relationship forever altered.

You crawled behind him and aligned your arm with his spine, “Can you sit up for me?” Like a true combat nurse, you did not wait for an answer before getting to work. Slow but sturdy, you lifted him just enough so that you could get to his nape. Though your care was tender, his reaction was harsh: sharp hisses and exasperated groans. It saddened you, how these strained grunts no longer frightened you - you had heard so much worse from both him and others.

At the tail of his undercut, you pinched Hange’s knot and lifted the ties from his scalp. An inch of space, you slipped the point of your blade between them. New breeze on his most sensitive spot, knife at the back of his neck, Levi shuddered in your arms.

“Don’t worry,” you rubbed your palm against his shoulder, “I’ve got you. I won’t hurt you.” I won’t let you get hurt anymore.

One swift swipe! You slit the gauze, almost like pulling a zipper. Hand on his thigh, you pivoted to his front. Left hand was both hasty and soft, pulling the wrapping from the top of his head all the way past his chin.

The mask was off.

With his face now unveiled, you withdrew a handful of inches. A habitual up and down to evaluate his state, just like he trained you.

The irises that snared you, there was now only one of them. Fresh stitches. Unforgiving black pierced his ivory skin. Crimson blood between the threads. A red so raw, you knew it was never meant to be seen.

Your throat tightened, the words retched out. “It’s not -” you swallowed, “- that bad…”

A bad liar, you always were. Adorable at other times, gut-wrenching now. You had totally frozen, and all he could do was blink helplessly in wait for you to accept him. In those few seconds, voices in his head made a thousand comparisons. Uglier than a titan. More jarring than a corpse. All the shit you’ve seen, and you’ve never reacted like this. As your eyes glassed over, his reflection became even clearer to himself, confirmed his fears: hideous, he was hideous.

Even though you stared, you gawked, he could not blame you. In fact, blaming you was his furthest thought, far beyond his first: blaming himself.

“I’m sorry.” Levi whispered. “I’m sorry.”

No. I’m sorry. Again, you ran through all the ways you could have prevented this. If only you had spied better. If only you had been there! He had absolutely nothing to be sorry for.

“I really…” Levi sniffed, his voice raspy, “I screwed up.” A single, silent tear rolled down his cheek. Then another, and another. “...stupid, fucking stupid.”

Seeing him cry always made you do the same. This time, though, your typical techniques left you. This Levi was unrecognizable, not just his physicality, but his personality as well. Even after the bloodiest expeditions, you had never seen such defeat in him before.

Levi barred his teeth, blood had pooled in his lower lip and leveled with the rim. As tears spilled into open wounds, stinging relentlessly, he did not even flinch, for he felt he deserved it. Not just because he had put himself in that lethal situation, but because he had killed his former self - the only version of him anyone had ever loved - your soulmate.

“Levi…” your fingers ran down his chest, extra delicate this time. Beneath your touch - its insinuation familiar - his heart fluttered, “you deserve to feel good.”

Despite your kindling fire, Levi remained cold at your contact and stayed startlingly still. He couldn’t even meet your eye contact, instead, choosing to stare straight down at your knees, as if needing to absorb and accept that you were actually knelt before him.

His words wavered, but his voice was a constant low. Hardly audible. Deeply depressed. “You… still want me?”

Instant, unfathomable heartbreak. Chills, widened eyes, and a ringing in your ears, disbelief at what you had just heard. Against his chest, your fingertips dwindled. Overwhelmed with pity, nevertheless, he still could not bear a glance towards you.

“Levi,” you cupped his cheek, beckoning his gaze. Tilting your head, a smile both teasing and kindred, “don’t tell me you’ve got amnesia, too?”

He scowled - halfway between too soon and smitten admiration. Only you would dare test him at a time like this.

“Cause it seems you’re forgetting all we’ve been through already.”

In each other’s eyes, everything came flooding back. The death of his squad and the months of ensuing grief. The broken leg that held him back from the tower, Eren’s capture, and the rescue mission - the one that costed Erwin’s arm and many more their lives. The return to Shiganshina, even fewer - including the late commander - returned from. Tremendous weights both physical and emotional, you had always been there to shoulder them with him. This was just another one of those spells, and you were a veteran by this point.

“Prim and proper without any problems… that’s not the you I’m used to.” Curled knuckles tucked stray locks neatly behind his ear. Nails scratched the cusp on the way, summoning shivers from the man beneath you.

You took his hands in yours. Fingers intertwined, two were notably missing. No matter, you concentrated, determined to hide your adjustment to this new hold.

“What I am used to, though, is the way you’ll recover - even stronger than before.” You tugged his hand to your lips and spoke gently, confidently against them, “You always have.”

Levi shook his head and grit through clenched teeth, “I don’t know if I’m coming back from this one, sweetheart.”

Indeed, the path forward was hard to see. His body had been torn to true shreds. The Ackerman bloodline was gifted, but they were human. Regeneration of his sight and his grasp were impossible. Humanity’s strongest soldier had been knocked down a permanent rung.

Suddenly, you feared that the superlative title had done him more harm than good. Love was not something you measured, and his combat abilities meant nothing to you, least of all now. Who said he had to climb that particular ladder? Why must he be a Scout first and person second? Levi had embodied the hope of humanity - and you could not blame the population for placing their faith in him. However, you were not just another member of the population. And to you, Levi was far more than his labels. Foremost, he was alive and he was yours.

He’s alive! He’s yours!

“For fuck’s sake, Levi…” tears fell, your smile rose, the words tumbled out, “all you have to do is breathe and that’s already enough.” Tenderly, you hooked your fingers over the seam of his blanket and tugged down. Shamelessly, your gaze swallowed him, relishing in his flushed chest and its heightened pulse, “and look at you, you’re already doing that.”

The end of the world, nearly the end of his life, but your tears were what broke him.

It started with a couple shakes of his head. Matted bangs fell over his features, but the shaking of his body and his crackling voice revealed all. Levi pulled his hand from your grasp and clutched his wrinkled forehead. Thumb ground his temple, a coping technique from childhood. A few deep breaths, after then, rattled and shaky: the telltale start to his breakdowns.

Salted tears poured into his split lip. On instinct, your thumb seeped into his mouth, replacing the burn with your sweet taste. God, how he needed it.

He needed it. He needed it. A painkiller, but not a pill. Warmth, but not a blanket. To be loved, adored, and made to feel useful, no matter what it was he could do. He could hardly talk, could not even sip water on his own. But there was one thing you knew he could do, one thing that would lift his spirits, if only the length of an endorphin release.

A smile both sweet and seductive, innocent and intimate. “You’re going to make me cum. I’m gonna make you feel good.” One hand on his stiffening lap. One hand on his cheek. “And I’ll show you that you can still do both.”

// // //

It was not the same, and you would not pretend that it was. Not worse, just different. Even better in some ways.

Inexplicably adorable. Learning to work with his left hand, he would lift his right hand to your buttons only to halt halfway and switch to the other. Pure, flustered concentration as he learned to communicate with his non-dominant hand, the most intimate practice possible. In the glaze of moonlight, his red blush radiated. Internally, he cursed the buttons and belts of the Scout uniform. Externally, he released exasperated sighs and frustrated moans. Undressing you used to take seconds, but after many minutes, your shirt was only halfway undone. Despite his mental irritation, it seemed neither of you truly minded: your arousal stirred with anticipation, his pupils dilated as he savored every second - every inch of your skin. Sex taking longer, who would complain about that?

Extra weak. Each of his movements was accompanied by shakes, emphasizing the efforts he put into making love to you. Twitches in his reawakening muscles kept his touch active, keeping things exciting. His vice grips of your skin had melted to grazes and dances. His squeezes no longer cut off your circulation, but coerced blood into every capillary. Entirely conscious, desperately yearning for more. You realized: it was not his strength that overcame you, but the craving that faint touch incited. Exerted grunts and curses under his breath were melody to the hum of mosquitoes and crackle of campfire. The most surprising setting to be spicing up your sex life.

Hyper-sensitive. The strain embedded in every motion had unraveled him quickly. And then there was you. Licking his wounds, tracing your tongue along his scars, you had thrown him off the tightrope balance of pain and pleasure, leaving him to scream in freefall. Teeth grazed his jawline, drawing screeches that felt sinful to listen to, but that didn’t stop you. Lips on his navel drew back-breaking arches of his spine. Acute and uncontrollable rolls of his hips. Touch-starved. Love-deprived. The feeling of unworthiness made every bit of affection that much more treasured. Every touch, a lightning bolt. Each wake, a calm. Mini orgasms wherever, whenever you felt him.

So conscious of his body, of his injuries, your diligent attention revealed perfections you never noticed before. Tendons in his arms cast contrasting shadows over his skin, they flexed with every sensation he felt and every one he provided.

You had always assumed it was the color of his eyes that was so magnificent, and indeed it was a lovely shade, but it was his angular brows and straight lashes that highlighted them so beautifully.

New appreciation for his muscles - not just eye candy, not just strength - but their persistence and importance in keeping him alive. Across his abdomen, seamless symmetry, pair after pair of ridges. Overstimulated sweat covered and complimented every curve, his own spotlight.

Your goal was to kiss every inch of him, make love to every inch of him. Lips curled to meet his crevices, leaving saliva and praise all throughout your path. “You’re perfect, Levi.” Again, you were crying. Tears dripped to his skin, medicine. “Perfect.”

Having danced with death, Levi was also experiencing a new infatuation with you. After hours of seeing nothing but black, your body was a constellation to explore. He had lost some digits, but two were enough to run his fingers through your hair. Smooth skin invited his hands to savor you, further welcoming with your singing nerves and satisfied sighs. Likewise, after hearing nothing but silence, your whines and whispers moved mountains within him. When he felt so broken, so useless, you managed to lift him up. You tugged him free from his constraints and marveled at his livelihood. Long and admiring was your stare at his erection, forcing him to acknowledge the proof that one thing still worked.

Labored was his attempt to sit up, to take hold of you, but you placed your palms to his pecs and pushed down, “Levi, it’s okay.” Leaning over, your breast met his chest as your lips fell beside his ear, drawing shudders as you cooed, “I’ll take care of you tonight.”

Mindfully, you reversed the roles: using him as a crutch, signaling his worth and aid to you. By your hold on his shoulders, you sturdied yourself as you lowered your sex down onto his lap. You were ready. Your bodies were ready. Anticipation clearly coated his cock from tip to base. Your folds yearned to be filled, drooling onto your thighs with hunger.

The back of your hand grazed his forehead, brushing his bangs - slick with sweat - aside. Unbroken eye contact. Unbroken vows: to love each other in sickness and in health. You smiled, he nodded. You inhaled deeply. He exhaled shakily. Lowering yourself down, he pushed himself up as much as he could. Enveloping him. Within you. Together at last.

In that moment, the separation nearly felt worth it. In the sea of your love, a current of sympathetic sadism. The strife of his injuries had strung him to his last wit, making the second he entered you that much more intense. Levi strained beneath you, immaculate curses fallen past his cracked lips. Bringing Levi to tears and to the brink of bliss, you were certain there was no bigger confidence boost, no greater incentive to fuck him with all you had.

But then, when you did, you realized the true motive: how he made you feel.

Face scrunched with each rise and fall, fingernails threatened to pierce his skin. Clutching him, you stumbled through your words - breaks between your repetitions. “It - It feels… You feel…”

Levi swore his heart could have exploded with tension over what you were going to say, that was until you uttered the words that made his heart stop, “so fucking good.”

On his face, relief. Within your walls, elation. “Y-Yeah?” Levi moaned, a combination of clarification and pleasure. “F’Feels… good?”

“Oh yes, baby…” So good, you couldn’t stop. So good, you lost yourself. His passion so lively, so blinding, you nearly forgot about his critical condition. Rolled back eyes snapped open, checking on him. You nearly halted your pace and panicked, “You doing okay?”

Canines bit his lip, but its sting was washed away in your presence, captivating. Squinted eyes, narrowed brows, Levi threw his hand over his mouth and muffled himself, nodding instead.

You smirked, too cute for his own good, that was how you usually reacted. Tonight, though, after all the loathing and depreciation you had both witnessed and felt, your vision was swayed. Lightly but deliberately, you pinched his wrist and lifted it above his head. “No need to hide, darling.” Tongue pried his lips open. “Let me see you. Let me hear you.”

Levi managed just a sliver, but that shred of his silver gaze was enough. “I - I’m f’fine!” He stressed. “I… promise.”

You lowered one brow in dubious concern, but he insisted breathlessly. “Please…” he whimpered, “Please keep going!”

Finally, you rolled your head back and sighed, he asked you for something. Something you could provide. Something you could fix for your lover so broken. With this goal in reach, you shared his desire for utility. Sex was survival, evolutionary, feral. The only thing that could make you fuck a patient senseless. The only thing that could make him forget his failures. The only thing that would heal both of you.

Oh, how he needed it. So hard against your soft insides. A length that reached for the stars. Warm passion mortared with yours, inciting smacks and screams that echoed for the voyeuristic pines.

“P-Please…” Levi begged. Let me cum. Don’t leave me. Stay mine forever. He yearned to say everything, but with your tidaling sensation and his fogged mind, the most he could manage was just the one word. Louder and louder, “Please, (Y/N)...” until his own climax cut him off, “P-Plea - hah’Ahh!!”

Steep and rapid thrusts, you were made speechless - not only by the pleasure they brought within you, but by how impressive they were. So much about him had changed, and he had every reason to be lethargic, but the power he demonstrated had not faded. Your heart sang with admiration, humanity’s strongest for a reason.

You hummed, unabashedly drinking up the symptoms of his release. Well familiar with his display, your hips knew just how to match the rhythm of his convulsions. Eventually, they slowed. Eventually, he was able to open his eye again. You saw his panic, the embarrassment, having finished first. When his seed hit your furthest depths and you seized around him, though, it was wordlessly communicated: he had no regrets, nothing to be sorry for, for his climax was what brought you to yours.

Well, wordless in a sense. Your incoherent cries and broken syllables were of no lexicon, but a language he was fluent in. Eight fingers clutched your back, helping you through your last few rhythms, “Come on. Come on, I’ve got you.”

“Fuck!” You reveled. You were the luckiest person in the world. Even before the pillowtalk, in the midst of your orgasm, you could already see: no one else would mute their stinging nerves just to make you feel a bit better, no one else would prioritize your happiness over their own, no one else would share your tears in the same night they shared your bed. In this dying world, there was only one man alive who would love you as you did him. And he was yours.

All yours.