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trulyhblue · 24 days

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Bf Leah being wound up after a bad game and takes control. Smut pls!!!!

BLED BLUE

leah williamson x chelsea! reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, humiliation, dom/sub dynamics, age gap (legal + consensual), hate sex, enemies w/ benefits, rough, coarse language.

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Part of you wondered how long it would take Leah to take you home. There was not an ounce of blue in her body, taken only by the lifelong allegiance to North London, but the thought of you, a blue-born Chelsea girl, taking up the space under her sheets, was addictive.

Chelsea were the better team. Always was, and always will be. The Blues were better at everything. Their players were more advanced, their game plans had been executed to perfection. Arsenal were sloppy, poor, and unjust. It was embarrassing to the point where it stood out as entertaining to you. Seeing the almighty, reigning Arsenal fall on their knees and succumb to the superiority of your team was endearing, and you found yourself searching for the thrill increasingly more as the game progressed.

And the sight of the woman you hated oh so much angered by the defeated notion of the final whistle was your idea of an indescribable victory.

“What a shame, Williamson.” You snagged, clutching the fabric at your hips, looking down at her bent figure. “I thought you’d play well.”

“Ah, it is you.” She replied with just as much spite. “I thought I saw someone falling flat on their face. Makes sense now that I know it was you.”

You smirked, folding your arms over your chest. “Yeah, tried to show my humility… y’know, after scoring two goals tonight I thought it was only necessary.”

Leah scoffed, straightening her posture to display her authoritative height over you. “Both off deflections… sounds brilliant.”

“Player of the match worthy.” You bit back, stepping forward, pressing your chest against hers, suppressing the heat in your face. “Don't worry, I’ll make sure to credit your own goal in the interview.”

“Always have an excuse to talk about me. Can't stop, can you?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“I don't think of you.” Leah shook her head, grabbing the hem of your shorts and fiddling with them persistently. “But if I did, I’d be sure to let you know.”

“If only I cared enough to hear it.” You tutted, not really caring about the openness of your situation. The stadium was still quite full, with both of your teammates lingering on the field. Fans were banking the barricade, no doubt looking for the two of you.

“I could tell you now if you’d like.”

“Aw, are you thinking of me now, Williamson?”

You felt Leah’s hand move to the inside of your thigh, pressing a tight pinch to gain any type of reaction from you. Biting your lip, you hoped that the post-game redness covered your blush.

“I bet you love the thought of people watching this, don't you?” She asked, glaring at you with such hatred that her words felt bittersweet. “Always so desperate for attention that you’d do it in front of everyone. Fucking needy.”

“You’re the one touching me.” In anger, you snapped. You didn't like the way Leah seemed so confident, so right in what she was saying. You wanted to be right. You were the one who won it for your team. You were better than her. She needed to realise that.

The only separation between the two of you was by your arms crossed over your chest. Leah was drawing furious patterns along your thigh, pressed up against you with her face above you, your height earning her to look down.

“Pull away then.” She uttered, now pulling you into a hug. You knew this would send fans into a spiral. Everybody knew about your rivalry with Leah. It was evident in the tackles, the cards, the teams, the games, the interactions. This was unclaimed territory. You had both teased each other after the games. There was always fire and spite, anger and resentment, but never contact. She told you to pull away, and by the tension that lingered, if you did she would let you have there was something else there. You felt it between your legs, running down your spine, making your core yearn.

It was in the way she kept her hand in between your thighs, deepening her fingers just below where you needed her most. She held you tight, closing any physical gap, forcing your arms to circle her waist as she wrapped her spare arm around the name on the back of your shoulders. You don't know why, but you held her back just as tight, breathing heavily when she started moving her fingers upwards.

“So tense.” She spat, rubbing your shoulder.

You shook her arm off, keeping the contact but still resistant. “I pulled it at training, of course it is.”

“Wasn't talking about your shoulder, baby.” She chuckled, her voice sending goosebumps down your neck. “In those thighs. Clenching them so hard and I'm hardly touching ‘em.”

That was when you knew your cheeks were burning.

There was a hint of humiliation in your tone, but your anger was still prevalent. “I didn't even notice your hand.”

“Yeah, alright.” Williamson grinned, pulling away. You felt the cold air nip your cheeks at the sudden loss of contact. Her fingers were no longer soothing the ache in between your legs. “Alright, baby, no, all that flushed cheeks from the big game, hm? Breathing so heavily cause you scored two goals, is that you’re so wet for me?”

“I’m not— you're so—”

Leah stepped away again, and you were too stupid to step forward in response. “God, is that what you're gonna sound like in the interview? You a mess, Baby, really. All flustered and red.”

“I'm not red.” You snapped. “And stop calling me baby. You're only four years older than me.”

Leah could see straight through you. “But you love that though.” She saw straight past your visible persona. “Why don't you show me how mature you are then? Can't call you baby if you prove that you're not.” She could tell by your flustered state, your wide eyes and your tainted disposition that you were struggling to handle the conversation.

“I don't need to prove anything to you. I just won the match. That's enough to prove that I'm better anyway.”

“But you needed help to get there, didn't you?” She retorted. “It’s not your name on the score sheet, it's mine. Look,” she pointed up to the screen, almost condescendingly, above the stands, where WILLIAMSON (OG) was printed boldly in white below the score. “All that hard work and I still get the mention.”

There was a fight for dominance, but the fight was so clearly won when you audibly gulped, unable to come up with just enough answer to compel yourself into a deeper state of anger. If anything, you were willing to resort to forbidding, but you were stubborn and bled blue.

“You’re just mad that you lost and we won. Chelsea was always better anyway, and you were just too slow… bet that's always the case.”

Leah’s jaw clicked, her lips settling into a thin line.

“In what case?” She muttered distinctly.

“You know what case.” You failed to notice the challenge, finding yourself in a superior position of confidence to realise the hole you were digging for yourself. “Slow and boring… on and off the pitch. You definitely get around, but you never seem to see one person twice. Maybe that's because they don't want to see you.”

Leah grabbed your wrist, yanking you off the field. It was a tradition that you would see the fans after every game, so you tugged back in retaliation.

She pivoted to face you, glaring at you with so much affliction that you yearned for more.

“You seem really interested in how I ‘get around’. Sounds like you wish it was you.”

No matter how hard your body was willing to succumb to her words, you stood firm by scoffing, rolling your eyes at her cockiness. “If only I was so desperate.”

“I’ll show you just how desperate I can get you.” The captain spat, holding your forearm now, easily leading you further down the tunnel where fans or players could no longer find you. “Didn't even properly touch you before and you were a needy mess.”

“You’re always so fucking sure of yourself, aren't you, Williamson?” You snapped back, hearing the clad of your boots fail to drown out your ungrateful tone. You did not care for what Leah was so keen to impress you with. Never had anyone told you that Leah did not impress. She was determined to make sure everyone was supplied with the right things for their needs. She valued giving pleasure over receiving. But if there was one thing she hated, it was brats like you.

You stood outside the Chelsea changing rooms, your kit still adorned on your figure.

“Go get your shit.” She snarled, letting go of your arm and jabbing you forward.

You scoffed, stopping dead in your tracks. “And what? You're gonna wait for me and drop me home? I have a license, Williamson, I'm not your fucking—”

You couldn't finish your rant, yelping when Leah cut you off, grabbing the collar of your shirt and mashing her lips against yours. One of her legs found its way between yours, her knee pushing against your core. A moan fell from your lips, and the woman wasted no time in slipping her tongue in, caging your figure between you and the wall.

She waited until you were kissing her back before grabbing your neck. She instantly moved down to litter harsh kisses down the nape of your neck, using her hands to move underneath your shirt, massaging your breasts. You were a mess beneath her, breathing heavily when the pressure on your clit intensified when her knee started rubbing patterns up and down.

“Swear at me again and see how it turns out for you.” She muttered in your ear, relishing the whines that fell from your lips as her knee continued its work. “If I tell you to grab your bag, that's what you do, yeah? You understand, Chelsea?”

The nickname left you shrinking, her words making your core glisten. You weren't completely sure whether the Arsenal girl was planning on taking you home. You didn't understand why you were all of a sudden pretty much moaning at the friction of her knee.

But you weren't fucking complaining.

“My teammates are in there.”

Leah let out a laugh. “You had no problem letting me touch you in a filled Stanford Bridge, Babygirl. I think it’d be healthy if your teammates realised who fucks their Stargirl after a home game.”

“You haven't fucked me, yet.” Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the thought of the England captain fucking you sending you into a spiral.

“Go get your bag and then I can use that pretty mouth for something other than moaning my last name… not that I mind when you do that.”

You wasted no time in doing as you were told, forever thankful that all of your teammates were either still interacting with fans or showering. You grabbed all of your stuff and quickly followed Leah over to the away changing rooms.

She let you walk through, since none of the girls were present, grabbing your belongings and chucking them inside her cubby. You felt her figure cage you back into the nearest wall, her hands how playing with the hem of your shirt, inching it further up your waist until it was completely disregarded, and you were left in your sports bra and shorts.

“Why so quiet?” Leah asked, kissing down the column of your neck, fondling your breasts. You sighed at the growing ache in your core, throwing your head back when Leah’s knee came back into contact with your clit.

“Some— someone’s going to walk in.”

Leah snorted. “Like you would mind.”

You huffed, grabbing the back of her neck and pushing her head further down your body. Leah’s knee stopped in return, leaving you writhing at the loss of pressure.

“Use your words or you can get off yourself.”

“Like you could get me off.” You retorted.

“I don't make brats cum.” She spat, moving back up to tower over you. “I edge them until they’re desperate and getting themself off my thigh. I treat them like brats, and maybe you need to work a little fucking harder for what you want.”

“You were just teasing me!”

“You're just desperate.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Leah.” There it was. Music to her ears.

“What?”

You whined, using your hips to drag yourself along her knee.

“What was that, Baby? Couldn't hear you under all those whines.”

“Leah, c’mon.” You stated potently, getting more impatient by the minute. “I'm not begging.”

The number six shrugged, looking down at you with wide, innocent eyes like she had no clue what you were going on about. Like she didn't even realise that you were humping her leg longing for some relief.

“Begging for what?” She moved her finger painstakingly down your chest, tracing your abs ever so slowly.

“For you.”

“For me?” She questioned, feigning confusion. Her hand dipped into the waistband of your shorts, circling your clit over your underwear. “Answer me, Darling. What do you want me to do? I'm touching you.”

“Touch me more.”

Leah tutted, moving her hand away. You groaned, throwing your head back when no pleasure was offered. “I'm afraid that's not how you ask. It might get you somewhere at Chelsea, but at Arsenal, we treat our Captains with respect. Even our star girls use their manners in the North end.”

“Touch me more, please.”

“Where, Chelsea?” Leah moved closer to you, peeling off her own shirt, removing your shorts, leaving you in your underwear and bra. “Be a good girl and tell me where.” She asked, her body lowering itself closer to the ground. You watched her kneel before you, hands gripping your waist, kneading your hips, lips biting your inner thigh.

“My clit, Lee, please. I need you to touch me there.”

“Such a good girl for your Captain, aren't you?” Leah ran her tongue along your folds, your underwear pooled at your feet. Your legs were swung over her shoulders, your hands buried in her hair, pulling taunt to her ponytail and the hairs that had fallen out during the game. Your moans were still muffled by the bite in your lips, the nerves of someone hearing your desperation for your enemy is still evident in the way you kept your mouth shut.

It was when Leah’s tongue latched onto your clit, sucking harshly on the swollen bud that your noises fell so adamantly from your reddened lips. You felt Leah’s cocky smile, her chuckles sending vibrations of pleasure through your body.

“Sound so pretty, Baby.”

“Leah— fuck, Lee. I'm gonna—”

“You’re going to hold it. Taste so good, you can wait.”

The coil in your stomach was forming long before Leah had even started, and the more Leah attacked your bud, the more your orgasm led to burst. Your moans had doubled in volume when one of her hands came up to play with your nipple, pinching it and playing with the nub every time her tongue licked up your folds. Her other hand worked its way through your pussy, spreading your slick all over your thighs, letting it run down your shaking legs and make your skin glisten with the glossy arousal.

“Want Stanford to hear you,” Leah spoke from below you. You whined at the thought. You were in a state of pure bliss that all cautionary thoughts of interruption were so far gone. All you could think about was Leah’s face between your legs.

“Feels so good, Lee. Want to cum so bad for you.”

“You can hold it, baby.”

“Mh, Lee, please.”

Leah moaned at your whines, nuzzling her nose up against your clit, pinching your nipple hard, reeling at the moan you let out in response. She saw the way your hole clenched around nothing, smirking at the way you rolled your hips across her face, working your pussy into her mouth so easily. She felt powerful knowing she had you at her disposal. You were stunning always, but there was something about you now that set Leah off. It made her angry knowing that you weren't hers to fuck at her discretion. It made her protective over you in ways she had never felt before. You were Chelsea’s protege — everyone worried when going up against you.

“Leah.”

It wasn't like something had changed, but Leah had realised that her hate was actually protection and adoration. She wanted you for herself. She wanted to steer you away from anyone that would hurt you. She hated Chelsea, she despised the West side more than anything, and it wasn't the sex that made her realise this.

“Leah.”

It was her name coming from your lips.

“Cum for me, Baby.”

That was all you needed to hear before you were barreling over the edge, your legs relying entirely on the strength of Leah’s upper body to keep you balanced. Your moans exemplified the stimulation of your orgasm riding out, and Leah’s endeavours to lick the result of it up as it poured into her mouth and onto your thighs.

The woman made sure you had somewhat caught your breath before she moved, having a moment to catch her own breath and comprehend what just happened. When she knew you were able to stand independently, she moved over to her cubby, grabbing the baby wipes she always had handy, moving back down to her knees to clean the mess across your legs as you covered your chest back with your jersey, and later your shorts.

Leah moved to do the same, except she watched as you fumbled with what to do. She gave you a pointed look as if to question your thinking, and you simply sighed and waddled over to her, slight humiliation at your wobbly legs painting your cheeks as you grabbed your bag.

“You all good, Baby?” She asked, her voice no longer authoritative and rather empathetic.

“Yeah, thanks.” You nodded. “Erm… sorry for being… rude… actually I'm not sorry but I am.”

“Yeah, same,” Leah replied a cheeky grin settled on her complexion. “I think we can settle for friendly rivalry from now on.”

“If that's what you call this, then sure.” You added, laughing along with what to make of the situation, feeling more out of place than ever in the middle of the Arsenal room. “I better go.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

“Lee, I've got my license—”

“It wasn't a question, Chelsea.”

You stood there defeated, knowing internally that you had no way home after Millie had driven you to the stadium and would have left by now anyway. Leah must’ve known that by the way she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her chest.

“Besides, wouldn't want that Player of The Match Trophy getting forgotten now, would we?”

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A/N — bad ending but oh well… HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!!

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earthtooz · 10 months

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x : SLEEPY FAVOUR :*+ﾟ

in which: you've unwillingly become jing yuan's cuddle buddy for his afternoon naps.

warnings: fluff, 700 wc, bad writing lul, established relationship, dialogue-heavy, gn!reader teases a clingy!jing yuan.

a/n: two fics in two days. wow. who am i. enjoy. (i posted an itoshi rin fic yesterday pls feel free to check it out!)

“you cannot keep doing this, jing yuan.”

sitting up to look at the man, your complaint is hushed quickly by the general, who places a hand on your shoulder and pulls you back down into his arms. he wraps himself around you like a vine and you groan at the suffocating sensation. still, jing yuan does not let up, not giving in to your complaints and grumbles as he draws circles on your arm.

“when you messaged me earlier about paying you a visit, i did not anticipate for it to be because you were simply feeling lonely. and clingy,” you sigh and the white-haired laughs.

“then what else?”

“something of value? something that will contribute to the wellness of the luofu?”

“is this not of value?”

“calling me as your cuddle buddy for your afternoon nap is hardly of value.”

“i object. in fact, i would beg to differ. is the wellbeing of the luofu’s general something to take lightly?”

you huff, turning around in his arms to face him. jing yuan looks at you through half-lidded eyes, fatigue evident in them as he smiles softly. instinctively, your hand reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind of ears and at the graze of your touch, he shuts his eyes, seemingly peaceful and content.

“flaunting your title, are you?” you ask. “what happened to your humility?”

he’s quick to reply. “gone if it will prevent you from leaving.”

a smooth talker. your lover, jing yuan, has always had a way with words, laced with carelessness yet drenched in honey, there’s little of him you can resist. even now, you feel your frustration subsiding with one simple comment.

“and why should the general have a few hours of the day just to slack off?” you ask. “your afternoon naps can wait, luofu’s safety shouldn’t.”

“you say that, yet how many centuries of peace have we lived through?”

“why is everything i’m saying only inflating your ego?” then, just to spite him, you pull your hand away and his eyes open at the lack of contact that grounds him to a realm of peace and comfort. immediately missing your warmth, jing yuan finds your wrist and moves it to rest on his face once more.

you don’t give him the satisfaction, hoping to give him a piece of your mind by once again, retracting your hand out of his hold and his sleepy gaze darkens into something akin to displeasure.

“won’t you indulge in me?” questions the cloud-knight. “i have worked so hard today already, i have been looking forward to taking an afternoon nap.”

“and is that not possible without me?”

he shakes his head with the temperament of a child and a pout to match. what will the court think when they see this side of your feared and revered lover? “ever since you rest with me that day, no, and i will never go back.”

where did his perseverance go?

“you suggest these things as if i am not busy myself. i cannot listen to your every request and demand when i have mountains of work to complete too!”

“i have requested that they be pushed back until later. your schedule has been cleared out for the next few hours.”

“jing yuan!” you exclaim, pushing him away lightly. “you cannot do that!”

“i can, and i have.”

before you can even utter another word, jing yuan has rolled over to lie on top of you, placing half of his weight on you to act as an anchor, effectively preventing you from moving anywhere.

the press of his muscles against you and the tightening of his arms around your torso are like cannonballs against your determination, and considering that he discarded his armour the moment you stepped through the door, it’s only fair if you do the same.

“come on, my love, do you not care for your general?” he asks, borderlining a whine.

“fine.” you surrender, finally wrapping your arms around him as well. “only because i want him to be at top performance.”

“what about your lover? don’t you wish for any benefits for him too?”

“he is of lesser importance,” you tease. “in fact, he should suffer for what he puts me through.”

jing yuan chuckles and his laugh reverberates into your heart. “i would hate to be him, then."

"watch yourself, jing yuan."

"of course, anything for you," murmurs the white-haired before he finds purchase in the bend of your neck. surrounded by you, he wordlessly dozes off without a care in the world.

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan fluff #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff #jing yuan x reader fluff #jing yuan x gn reader #hsr x gn reader #honkai star rail x gn reader

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ohproserpine · 3 months

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lamb to the slaughter

alastor finds heaven kneeling before an exterminator tags. alastor x gn! exterminator! angel reader, religious imagery & symbolism, implied death, blood, dark romance

Alastor holds no reverence for heaven.

He himself was far from holy, his rotten soul resistant to the act of prayer and worship. The humility required to kneel and plead for mercy is an attribute that seems alien to him.

But never before had he beheld such beauty.

Alastor eyes were fixed on you. Before him, you loomed, a majestic creature with pearlescent wings outspread, a radiant halo encircling your horns, and draped in golden robes.

In the grip of your divine gaze, Alastor's thoughts wandered back to the verses he had half-heartedly listened to in the hallowed halls of the church. The utterances of the pastor, the haunting melodies of the choir, and the impassioned prayers fervently uttered by the congregation—all appeared to him as a futile worship. Amidst it all, he remained a solitary figure, impervious to the sanctity of the holy prayers.

Had he known that beauty could materialize into a being such as you, he would have uttered all those holy prayers in your name instead.

"Kneel," you commanded. Something within him seethed, growled, and clawed at his thumping chest.

Despite the tremors in his knees, he feigned composure, sinking to kneel before you. The fabric of his pants tore on the coarse gravel, leaving his knees scraped and bloodied. As he raised his gaze to meet yours, a chilling sensation coursed through him, your heavenly eyes seemingly scorching his skin.

Dimly aware of the pain induced by your blade piercing through muscle and meeting bone, a crazed euphoria enveloped him, numbing the stinging sensation.

Alastor found it somewhat hilarious. Creatures like you, born to worship and embody symbols of holiness, bore wings that were perpetually stained with the richness of cardinal red.

A soft, involuntary groan slipped past the demon's lips as you abruptly yanked the spear from his flesh, forcefully pulling him closer to you. Despite the searing pain, he bit down on his tongue, commanding himself to silence.

"How shameful," your voice cooed, a mellifluous cadence that felt like honey to his ears—soft and warm. Alastor felt the edge of your bloodied spear against his throat, yet he made no move to stop you.

There was nothing heavenly about this, and yet it was the closest he felt to heaven.

What's heaven compared to you anyway?

You moved closer towards him, the spear shifting from his throat, tracing a path toward his jaw before aiming it to strike his head. All the while, Alastor gazed up at you with an expression akin to that of a lamb.

"Beautiful," Alastor spat out, blood seeping from between his teeth. The gleam in his razor-sharp smile held a disturbing charm.

"This praise will not purify you."

His laughter echoed in the air, a breathless and bittersweet symphony that mingled with the metallic tang of his own blood.

Forgive him. Alastor pleaded one last time as you raised the spear high. For he has sinned.

And yet, kneeling before you now, hands bloodied with the golden blood of your kin, he knew he would do it again.

#just a drabble :P wrote it in an hour after i listened to 'little lamb' by jazmin bean #sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor

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opalopera · 17 days

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Hi! I've been a fan of your main blog for some time now (at least I'm 99% certain it's you but I won't mention it here for your privacy ofc)... Anyway I was wondering how you felt about more domtop reader content? I'm specifically thinking about readers (ftm) stepdad being incredibly bratty and just overall rude to him because he really never wanted to deal with a "kid" in the relationship (even tho you're already in your 20s), but man, he's kinda attracted to you... and so he starts pushing your buttons on purpose, wanting you to snap but not expecting it when you do, pining him down to the floor and telling him what a bitch he's been, roughly tugging his pants down his legs and seeing how hes already dripping for you... maybe ensues some degradation and mild feminization yk ... sorry if this was long or you're not a fan of the prompt!

(Btw could I be 🍦 anon if that's not taken? Sorry i started writing this without checking and I don't want to lose what I wrote lol...)

LOL im 100% certain it isnt, the thought is sweet though,,, shoutout 2 whoever it actually is if their stuff is similar to mine mwah :3 also thisis wall sex, apologies for no floor, buti really liked this.............

cw;; stepcest, degredation, dubcon, feminization, ftm stepdad, top male reader, minors, ageless blogs dni

he was just checking up on you!! when your dad should be checking in on you, he sends his husband insteadㅡyour wretched step-father... of course. always pestering, always bothering - he wanted to see what the calm and collected young man would be like when angry as he never sees it!!!

never before seen... he didnt think you would be so .. not sensitive,,, it was usually a bit lighthearted before he would turn up the heat to see how upset you would get. you often brushed it off - so compliant, just a damn doormat! he was commenting on every little thing strung out in your humble abodeㅡbefore his eyes land on a few magazines on your coffee table. he surveys the porn magazines with a look of utter disgust... your father would be so disappointed theyre just laying out in the open-! so disrespectful!

"it's a wonder how he hasn't found about your degeneracy yet." he scoffs - and, that's what makes you snap? hes completely surprised his cruel words have finally made it to your heart!!

ㅡugh-! nearly tackling him and shoving him against the wall ( of course ),,, ignoring his grunts and rather strong struggling and questions ofㅡ"what the hell are you doing, you damned animal-?!"ㅡpressing against him from behind to keep him from moving before shucking his pants down in a brave move of humilating him in your own home. jeez ur stepdad is a slut... wearing womens panties instead of boxers? hm.

"gross, dad." you grumble haphazardly. feeling around. might as well use him, right? he had a fleshlight built in! what better than to use something real than a toy?

andㅡwhy was he being so cruel to you anyway? you trail your fingers along his folds. he calls out your degenerative behavior yet here he is, pussy wet and panties soaked with his disgusting fluids,,, erm, degenerate.

"fucking gross. getting all giddy and wet by degrading me?" you grimace in disgust, yet still; laying your palm against his clothed cunt and relishing in the way he shivers and mewls - whines that he's ah-! sorry! ss-so sorry... he even calls out your name. you admit, it does make your dick tingle...

you grunt, shucking your pants down with one hand with a bit of struggle - so easily handling your soft cock and guiding it along his ass. magically hardening in ur hands as your stepdad whines - "s-shit - do-don't fuckingㅡ" pressing his ass back into you while he grumbles on not touch him...

you scrunch your nose in distaste. he smelled so good. "gross.. ew... yuck..." grumbling into the shell of his ear, that he must be a seriously depraved freak if he's looking to his stepson for some action. it's so very obvious that he's that needy!

and,,, constantly grumbling, "ew" as you fuck into him.,, holding his arms back, plunging deep into his puffy, sensitive cunt you teased before making an entrance. ur stepdad really was a needy mess, huh! so dramatic too... making you get all angry. he likes it rough too, huh? fucking freak. hands slipping from his wrists, traveling over his ass and up his sides - groping at his fleshy pecs.

"nice tits, too..." your tongue flicks out, grazing against his earㅡyou weren't hearing any sobbing 'no's or 'stop's, so obviously without much of a fight; you continue to use your dear old stepdad with a banger pussy! "jeez. might have to make you mine, too. maybe being in love with prissy little cocksleeves runs in the family, haha."

he grits his teeth out of pleasure, eyes rolling back before his mouth pops open in a slutty little o shape,,, gross. looks just like those girls on your gritty porn magazines. he pushes into you,,, a soft moan of - "muh- m-moreㅡ"

you grunt in annoyance, pushing against him and keeping him still. buried deep inside and tip nearly pressing against something hard,,, it couldnt be,,, cum dribbling down his thighs, you couldnt help but make fun of him! he deserves it, obviously,,, he really isㅡ"fucking gross. imagine what your husband, my dad would do if he saw this?" you pump into him roughly, slamming back into his fluttering cuntㅡ"my cum pouring out of your pussy - you're fucking disgusting, man..."

///if doing long asks like this in the future,,, could you please use the small font,,, its much easier for me to read especially without breaks.,,,

#cnc free use #corrupt!on kink #seme male reader #x dom male reader #x top male reader #sub male character #bottom male character #tw stepcest #fauxcest #fauxc3st #{☆🍦}

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yeokii · 9 months

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# arguments w enha hyung line !! — part two (maknae line ver)

₊﹒ wc! 0.9k

₊﹒warnings! fighting, angst

₊﹒note! ty to my dookie @redm4ri for helping me with the members (im crying) luv ya my dooks

# lee heeseung

"It's not what you think," Heeseung pleaded, irritation visible on his face.

In his head, he thought he was right. But, boy, was he off. Both you and he went to a gathering, but he had ignored you the entire day and spent time with his best friend. You trusted Heeseung with your entire heart, and seeing him do this broke your heart into little pieces.

"She came back from the states two days ago, yn," He tried to reason, "I haven't seen her in four years, for fuck's sake."

"That is no excuse for you to ignore me, Hee," you sternly said.

"God, yn! Why can't you get it in your fucking brain? She and I are fucking friends!" He scoffed, frustrated as he brushed his hair back with his hands.

"Do you think I'm stupid? She looked like she wanted to kiss you! Are you kidding me?" It was your turn to scoff.

The tension thickened as hateful words spewed from each side.

"God, yn, why are you overreacting?" He asked, annoyed. "Stop being a fucking child; she's like a sister to me."

"Do you realize she spent more time with me? Of course, I'd miss her."

"Alright, if you miss her that much, feel free to go to her. I don't give two fucks anymore." And with that, you took your jacket once again and left the apartment.

₊﹒other members under the cut !!

# park jongseong

11:34.

The clock read.

He wasn't home yet.

Your worry grew more with every minute passing. The fact that Jay wouldn't pick up the thousands of your calls. You were a nervous wreck. You couldn't sleep at all. He was never late.

The door opened, finally.

In came a tired jay, his eyes worn out and his hair all ruffled up, his tie loose.

He took one look at you and his eyes automatically rolled.

"What the fuck Jay?" You spoke.

"God, please." He said. "Not now, yn. Im too fucking tired to hear your lectures."

"Jay?" You were astonished by his behaviour. He never spoke like this which took you off guard.

"Why are you speaking like that to me?" You asked, your heart heavy. "I was so worried about you, I called you a hundred times."

"God, I just don't wanna deal with this right now. I had a long day at work. " He massaged his temples as he started to head for the bedroom.

"You could've told me you were coming late."

"Stop being a fucking baby and stop being clingy. I'm a grown ass man. Your not my fucking mother."

You had nothing left to say. You gave him a stern look as your worried expression vanished. You headed to the bedroom and slammed the door not wanting to hear anymore out of your so called boyfriend's mouth.

# sim jaeyun

"Baby, can you please tell me what's wrong?" Your boyfriend pleaded due to the silent treatment you were giving.

You ignored him as usual, continuing to do the dishes.

"I would know whats wrong if you would tell me about it." His eyes holding a desperate plea.

You looked at him with disbelief written all over your face.

"How could you forget Jake?" You asked him, your voice sounding like a slight whisper.

"What?" He uttered with confusion.

"I waited for you all day last night. How could you forget?" You held back tears that threatened to spill out of your eyes.

"Forget what baby?" His eyes searched for some sort of answer from your face.

"Our anniversary Jake."

His eyes widened, as a wave of shock washed over him.

"I'm so sorry baby, It must've slipped out of my mind I-"

"It was raining Jake. I couldn't go outside because it was raining. I had to sit there at our date waiting for you to come. I had to go back home in the rain, Jake." You let out a sob. The familiar emotion of humility emerging over you.

"Yn, I'll make it up to you. It's not a big deal."

"It is, you asshole." You looked at him, tears leaving your eyes nonstop and you left the kitchen.

# park sunghoon

"Hoon please stop." You let out a mutter to your boyfriend, slightly tugging onto his hoodie.

You both were out with your friends and you and Sunghoon were having a good time until him and your friends started joking a little too much about you that made you uncomfortable.

"What? We're just having fun." He shrugged it off, laughing.

"No Hoon. I don't feel comfortable." A rush of insecurity roamed through you.

You tugged onto Sunghoon more which showed a bit of irritation on his face.

"God yn, learn how to take a joke." He said, a frown showing on his face.

"Please, I don't like when you talk about me like that infront of my friends."

"It's just a joke, babe."

"It's not Hoon." You sternly said.

"God! Stop being a fucking baby!" He yelled at you infront of your friends.

"Oh my god! Did yn's boyfriend just yell at her? Yikes.." One of your friends told the girl next to her.

You looked around and then back at Sunghoon. Shame washed all over you. You felt so humiliated, tears started to fall out of your eyes. Everyone's eyes were on you. You felt so isolated and outnumbered.

"I'm leaving." You told Sunghoon and with that you left.

perm taglist!! @flwoie @zuyairus @bubblytaetae @yenqa @haknom

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constantcrying · 4 months

Text

Anger is a secondary emotion.

m!yandere x gn!reader

TW: obsession, some violence

This'll be my first post! If you have any feedback, I hope you'll share it.

He's trying. Honestly he is. He's putting in the work, biting his tongue and keeping his fists clenched. He'll never pick another jealous fight or cause a scene for the rest of your lives. He'll stop taking souvenirs from your home after every visit. Maybe he'll even go to therapy and unpick the fucked up weave of his childhood to find the origin of his every maladaption. Who knows, he might come out of this rough patch a better human being.

Promises between the two of you are worth something. You always say what you mean, do what you say. That consistency is another thing he loves about you, another one of the countless reasons he couldn't bear to lose you. It was why the look on your face that day had terrified him, as you confessed you were sick of his shit and struggling to be his friend—you meant it when you said you would go no-contact because he was obsessive.

It was bad enough being relegated to a mere friend after two years of adoring you. What was he supposed to do if you left him altogether? As much as he hated sharing your time and attention with the rest of the world, he couldn't bear to lose his humble slice of it. Before he met you, he hadn't cared so deeply about anything or anyone. He hadn't known what to do when he fell for you, except sink his teeth in and never let go.

Just the thought of life without you made him so sick, he fell to his knees on the spot. He fought his shaky voice and managed to utter an apology, begging for a chance to correct himself.

He isn't good with humility or patience or prostration. But he is honest. He does love you. He'll do anything for you, even act right.

You knew him well enough to believe his words. You also (rightly) pitied him. In the end you agreed that if he cleaned up his act, you wouldn't cut him off.

For now, he's on probation, seeing you once every eight days or so. He's not strong enough to go longer than that without being near you. In between those pressure control days, he journals, meditates, and reads self-help books. He'll even exercise more than he ever did before, because studies claim that it helps with emotional regulation. He thinks it's all stupid. He hopes it works and you think better of him. He continues this way for months.

The result? He isn't biting off your male friends' heads anymore. He isn't trying to monopolize your time. He doesn't obsessively check your location and text you like crazy. A touchy friend says hi to you at a cafe, and he doesn't get angry at them for interrupting and hugging you, he just says hi back. It's actually pleasant to hang out together in public again. For you, it's like the friend you made so long ago has actually come back. You don't ever say it, but he thinks you might believe he's actually over you.

He forgives you for that, and for the threat of leaving. He knows your peace is important to you, so you just said what you thought was best. And him...he'll stop with the outbursts, bury all of the feelings he's wrestling with. See? He changes for you. How many of your ex friends and lovers can say the same?

But there's nothing you can do about your missing possessions ex post facto. He still struggles, like anyone with bad habits. There's always an urge to come closer to you, to cradle you to his chest, to kiss you stupid. Just...let him keep the chapstick and the t-shirts, at least. He can tide himself over with the lingering scent of your favorite products.

And, of course, the anger remains simmering under his skin. It comes in waves, he notices, after every doubt and concern. Your casual smile at another person, for a split second, makes his gut churn before the heat of rage washes over him. After he sends a text you don't respond to, his heart sinks, and then it catches fire. He's always scared first. Maybe the journaling isn't so stupid if it can show him these patterns.

The problem is, he can't kill the source of his fear unless he can have you all to himself. That's not happening anytime soon.

So he's still struggling his way through your time together. You hang out like normal people, having dinner at a new restaurant before strolling down the street on a cool summer evening. Almost no one is outside, creating the sense that you two exist in your own little pocket dimension. You decide to go down a little alleyway, a shortcut that never presents any problems.

Somehow, a throw-away comment of his makes you laugh, and he wants to take the sound and inject it into his veins. The glory of your approval is bittersweet. He dreads the way this night will end: with you going to your place instead of coming home with him. It is all he can do, not to break the unspoken barrier between you. He wants to be optimistic. He wants to say that it's enough if you're happy, beside him right now.

As if you couldn't be happy elsewhere. As if he could be.

He can't handle thinking this way anymore, so he looks away. Just for a moment. Just to take some breaths and be something close to functional.

That's his big mistake.

The second you cry out, he turns back. You've been knocked to the ground by some staggering man, who trips over your leg and lands against a trash can. He must have come from the bar down the road because he reeks of bottom-shelf liquor.

"Son of a bitch!" The man growls. "Watch it! Watch where you're fucking going! You think you own the fucking street?"

"Fuck you!" You respond, trying to push yourself up off the ground. You hiss and stop, bringing your hand up to see that the palm is a scraped mess.

The drunk man mumbles some more curses at you and, in a fit of dionysian inspiration, kicks you.

It's not a hard blow. He's hammered, and totally out of shape besides. And maybe he never meant to hurt you at all—maybe he's just being childish and weird, his inhibitions drowned by a night of heavy drinking.

It doesn't matter to your friend.

His body has moved, he realizes, as he stares down at a pulpy mess. It used to be a face. His knuckles are raw, split from overuse. It feels like nothing at all. You're hurt, though, and the perpetrator is still breathing, so he needs to do something about that.

Without a hand gripping his collar, the drunk man splatters on the ground. He doesn't have the wherewithal to protect himself from further attacks, so with no resistance, your friend can just swing his foot into a perfectly vulnerable stomach. He does. He does it again. And again. And in the middle of this, even in his high-running emotions, he finds a sense of clarity that he's rarely afforded. Finally, someone pays the price for touching you. What a relief it is to have something nice and solid absorbing all the rage that he's always stuffing down.

You have apparently been calling his name nonstop. He only notices now as he's being yanked back by the arm. Like a spell is wearing off, he hears your voice. You sound far away, at first, the way you do in dreams. As he becomes aware of his pounding heart and aching knuckles, your muffled voice becomes clear.

"What the hell are you doing? Stop! You'll kill him!"

He's obedient, if you recall, so he stops. He turns to you, panting and shaking out his hand. Strangely, you flinch and back up. Your eyes are wide, your mouth pressed shut.

You've...never looked at him that way. He's irritated and embarrassed you, but nothing he's done has ever scared you.

He should worry about this, but he can't help smiling. You're so cute when you're frightened. You belong in his arms, where he can keep you safe.

He pulls you into him and squeezes you tight. As much as you do tremble, there's not an ounce of resistance from you as he does this. You are having the same epiphany is him right now—that he would never hurt you, that anyone who did would pay sevenfold.

But while he is imagining himself as your knight, you're thinking of all the strangers and friends who may be unkind, however briefly, to you. You're thinking of how sharp this man's memory is and how casually you complained about exes or classmates or coworkers when you thought everything was okay.

"It's okay. You're safe," he whispers into your hair, relishing the close contact.

He's going to stay good for you. It'll be easy now, knowing where to put all the excess energy.

#yandere angst #yandere x reader #yandere #male yandere x gn reader #male yandere x reader

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haezen · 1 year

Text

how he apologizes

suna, makki

haikyuu!! genre: hurt/comfort

a/n: they’re so silly and i’m in love with them (heheehehahaha) if you guys like this, show it some love. (i love seeing you guys reblog with # ! i read them and they make my day!) maybe i’ll do sakusa and atsumu next :>

dedicated to my lovely best friend @nami66m !

HOW SAKUSA APOLOGIZES

masterlist

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

SUNA

Rintarou is unbearably stubborn.

He says things that he doesn’t mean and his words are venomous. When the two of you got into a fight over something that didn’t even really matter, you are shocked when he spits your biggest insecurity back in your face. He will never forget the pained expression that washed over your features and almost instantly, he regretted ever saying it in the first place.

You held your head up high, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat and the tears threatening to spill, before heading out of your shared home. He could tell that you were heartbroken to hear something you told him in confidence thrown back in your face. He knew that he fucked up, but yet he stood there unmoving like a statue, too afraid to move a muscle or utter a word. As he watched you storm out, he told himself that he never wants to see you leave out that door, running away from him again.

He stood in that same spot for a while, frozen. Why did he say those things? What were you even fighting about in the first place? How can he fix this?

He doesn’t know what to do. Before, all he did was run from his problems and avoid people he wronged like the plague. He’d ignored their texts and calls. He’d act like he wasn’t home when they’d knock on his door, begging for an explanation on why he went ghost. He’d even act like he didn’t know them when seeing them in public.

Rintarou doesn’t know how to admit he’s wrong because he believes that if he admits it, then you’ll find somebody better. You deserve somebody who wouldn’t hurt you in the first place: someone who acknowledges their faults and overcomes them with humility. And he has never done that — he doesn’t know how to.

So as he sits on the couch with his head in his hands and unbecoming tears streaming down his face, he decides that he needs to drive to the only person he can trust to ask for advice: Osamu.

You finally come home at midnight. Your cheeks and nose are red and he instantly realizes you’ve been walking out in the cold.

But when you open the door, you’re greeted by the warmth of the fireplace, candles lit everywhere you look, and Rintarou standing right in the kitchen like he’d been waiting there for hours. He offers you an uneasy smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. He smiles like he’s unsure of what to say or what your reaction will be.

Deep down, he wants to run and hide like he usually would. He’s afraid that you will leave him first because you’ve seen how ugly he can be.

He gestures to the kitchen island, and you see he’s made you your favorite food. It’s not perfect and the display looks awful, but the hopeful look in his eyes is begging for your acceptance and validation. You know he’s never done anything like this before.

The gesture makes you want to cry all over again, but you’re hesitant to forgive him so easily. When he’s met with silence, he continues.

“I made it all myself.” He explains, “But...I had to ask Osamu for help because I didn’t know where to start.” He admits, voice a little lower than before.

You step into the kitchen to take it all in — the kitchen is a mess, the sink full of dishes and it looks like he spilled something all over the stove. But you know he’s trying, in his own stupid way, to make it up to you.

He approaches you carefully, scared that you’ll storm out again. To his surprise, you await his embrace. He wraps his arms around you while you hesitantly wrap yours around him.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers for the first time, “I didn’t mean what I said.”

You think he might be crying.

“I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

MAKKI

He hates to think that he could’ve done something wrong in the first place.

Because it was only a joke.

You had invited your family over for dinner. While all of you are having a good time and getting along for once, Makki decides to make a joke in an attempt to make your family like him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the time or the place for this particular joke — it’s inappropriate and borderline offensive, especially to you. You, most out of everyone, are appalled and shocked that he’d even bring something like that up. It makes everyone stiff and the aura is suddenly uncomfortable; the air is stuffy and no one knows what to say in response. You excused yourself from the table, dragging Makki outside to the balcony by his ear. He groaned in complaint and once you left the table, everyone shared knowing looks. By the time the both of you returned inside, everyone had already finished their food and was ready to leave, eager to leave the tense atmosphere. You were beyond embarrassed and disappointed that the night had gone awry.

You pointedly ignored him for the rest of the night because you decided that you were too upset to fight. You cleaned up by yourself despite Makki’s protests to let him help you. You shouldered him off and he didn’t know what to do. He was starting to get frustrated, but he knew not to say anything in retort.

Unfortunately, like most men, Makki has his pride. But, he realizes that he would much rather admit he’d done something to upset you rather than sit, brood, and refuse to apologize. Of course, since it is Makki, he has to put a fun and exciting twist to it.

He’ll usually give you your space for a few hours, acting like he is oblivious to the silent treatment you always give him when you’re upset. He looks past all the harsh glares you throw his way and he ignores the scoffs you make when he walks past you in your shared apartment. He even gives you a flippant, ‘bye!’ when you leave to get some fresh air because the tension is so thick that the both of you feel like you’re going to suffocate.

While you’re gone, he scrambles to get things ready as he prepares to build a blanket fort for the both of you. It might be childish, but the two of you have never been afraid to indulge in ‘kiddie’ activities. And he knows how much you love to watch movies together. He even makes the quickest trip to the convenience store in his life – rushing to get you your favorite snacks and drink.

He barely makes it home before you return. He's putting the final touches when he hears you unlocking the door.

As he whips around, you walk in and your eyes go wide.

“What’s this?” You question, eyeing his guilty expression.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he says.

You scoff for probably the hundredth time today. As you unlace your shoes and shrug your coat off your shoulders, you hear him messing around with the television. Your heart is racing as you try to decide if you’re still upset at him.

“Do you know how uncomfortable you made everyone? You’re so–”

“I shouldn’t have made such a stupid joke.”

“You think?”

You fail to realize that your boyfriend has closed the distance between you two. He sweeps you off your feet, strong arms picking you up to hold you bridal style.

“Hey!” You scream.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs with a soft smile, before he playfully throws you inside the fort, your back hitting an array of pillows. You squeal in response and he is quick to follow you inside. You look around and he’s put a lot of effort in – he even used the bar stools so that you’d have more room. He sits beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulls you to his side.

“Please forgive me.” He whispers into your ear, kissing all over your face and neck as you protest.

“‘Hiro!” You laugh, trying to fight him off but it’s fruitless. You enjoy his proximity and even, you recognize the fact that he’s doing his best to cheer you up.

You can’t help the giggle that bubbles up from your throat as he restlessly starts attacking you with his affection.

Then, you forget why you were even mad in the first place.

#i love me some makki #ooomg #suna is a baby #crybaby #hanamaki takahiro #suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #hanamaki takahiro x reader #makki x reader #hurt/comfort #hq hurt/comfort #hq angst #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #suna rintarou x you #haikyuu scenarios #suna rintaro x reader

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noroi1000 · 1 year

Note

Please 🥺 I beg you for more Yandere Geto❣️ What about...love at first sight with y/n , she's the only kind and lovely whit him? The only thing, she's a not sorcerer. I hope you want. Thank you ~💖

Little Monkey, My sweetheart

Paring: Yandere Geto x reader

words: 2k

warnings: kidnapping, yandere behavior, Mention of murder, stalking

summary: When he met you, he knew you were an ordinary person who had no place in his world. But you were so cute and kind and pretty that he thought he couldn't hurt you. No one will forbid him to have a cute little pet whom he will love.

Ever since he walked around the city after leaving school, he looked at people with disgust.

Every time someone pushed him in the crowd or bumped into him, he would shoot a deadly glare at that person, and sometimes he would quietly utter some insult.

So what if it offended the people who stood next to him, and there were moments when someone became more aggressive towards him.

When he passed there, he didn't care that those people had their own lives and minds. They didn't respect anyone...

And the dumbest were such that they only respected themselves. Even if their lives had no meaning at all.

When someone was attacking him, he didn't care if anyone was watching or not.

He killed without even looking at who was lying next to him in a pool of blood.

He was already a mass murderer, and all sorcerers knew that if they saw him, they were to catch him. Even though if they tried, they would die...

He had no joy in life.

He didn't need toys to play with.

Monkeys are boring. People are ugly. Their lives are terrible and selfish.

That's why he hated them.

Well, he had a family that supported him.

However, there was no one in this family who was love for him.

And now he had no way of finding a female sorcerer who would fall in love with him.

He could take her. But there was one problem. There was none he was interested in... There was no one who had cute features and also the will to fight. Who would even accept him. Sorcerers are different, crazier. That's why he had no way to find a normal girl he liked.

He would have a chance to get such a girl among normal people.

But it would also be difficult to find a person who will show humility and that someone is weaker in some moments.

Such people exist.

However, the search would take an eternity. And also this search may not be fruitful at all.

Because things that can be good often happen by accident.

When he was 23, he still continued to walk around the cities. Despite his disgust with this noisy place. He went into stores, looked at things, and always kept to the free space. He exuded an ominous aura, which indicated to people not to approach him.

It worked.

Until one day he felt something land on his back.

He sighed as he stopped.

"Monkeys..."

Slowly, he turned around and stared at the shorter figure who quickly moved away from his back.

His pupils dilated a bit as he saw a small blush of embarrassment on the face of the girl who was standing there nervously, and she started apologizing to him.

"I'm really sorry... Someone pushed me and I... I didn't mean to bump into you... It's... I'm sorry.” You said nervously, still being nice.

You bent down to grab the small bag you were carrying.

You showed that you were sorry, tilting your head slightly to let him know you were sorry. You were nice.

But he had something else to test.

He put one hand in his pocket, unhooking the shiny dark ball Mimiko and Nanako had given him for his keys, and quietly tossed it onto the pavement.

If you really are what his gut tells him, he somehow needs to know who you are and where you're going.

Before the ball fell out of his pants, he quickly imbued it with his cursed energy as much as he could at the moment.

He walked away, giving you a small smile, saying that nothing happened and it's fine.

And that was his first nice encounter with a normal human being.

In a moment he felt a light tugging on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

He knew it was you. You exuded such a pleasant and kind energy. He could immediately sense that you had nothing to do with the cursed energy.

"I'm sorry sir, you must have missed it." You said as he looked at you.

In your open hand lay a shiny ball with the clasp of the keychain unfastened.

He took it from you, and suddenly put it in your hand again.

"You can keep it." He said giving you a smile.

"But-."

"You will pay me back next time." He grunted and started walking away.

It's possible that when he comes home, the girls will kill him because he "lost" a gift from them. But if he explained the situation to them, they would surely understand.

You always kept that ball with you. Hoping you'll see this man and give it back to him.

You didn't know that you were being watched by this little object.

It bothered him a bit that you weren't a sorcerer, but his gut told him that you were someone for him.

You're the only normal person who doesn't disgust him. Because you don't think you're more important than him.

But he could have made you more important than all the other non-sorcerers in the world.

You're not a sorcerer because you can't see the little curses he's unleashed in your house to keep track of whether you're where you're going, and know everything about you that was possible for him to know.

To meet the same man two years later. Whose hand closed around your neck as you walked quietly in your house.

He stopped you with his hand, and stepped out of the black hole that appeared behind you.

He stopped in front of you, covering your mouth gently with his other hand.

"I've come for my property." He gave you a smile that seemed dark but combined with a kind one.

Something grabbed your back and started pulling you into blackness.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at the man's smile.

While your hand itself remained uncovered in black, you felt his lips place a small kiss on the back of your hand.

"My property. My little Monkey. My sweetheart~."

You woke up feeling completely different.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was clothes with a golden cover on a man.

Your head rested on his thigh as he sat with one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee. Leaning the book he was reading on his upraised leg.

"You're awake." He said without taking his eyes off the text.

What moved on your head in a nice way was his hand gently stroking your hair.

You felt a bit like a pet to be petted.

Or maybe he thought you were something like that?

He came for his property... Then why did he kidnap you?

Why are you now lying on his thigh and he is stroking you?

You looked at your body.

You were wearing a white kimono.

Someone changed you?

"I see you moving your head. Is it the clothes?" He said, now looking at you seriously. You nodded, unable to speak from your nervousness.

You were awake and scared, but at the same time you felt so calm and sleepy as he stroked you.

But that's not right. You don't even know him! He kidnapped you!

You must call the police!

You felt pressure on the back of your neck and his fingers digging into a spot near your spine. Even a nice shiver ran through your body, and instead of tensing up, your body fell softly.

"Your eyes got a little dizzy. You panic because you don't know where you are or who I am. Although I sincerely believe that you remember me." His fingers massaged your neck.

He put the book down and straightened the other leg before pulling you onto his legs and with you on top of him he sat cross-legged, placing you between his knees. With your back against his leg on one side and your legs against his other leg.

His arm started to hold you, resting your head on his chest.

"You're taking it better than I expected."

"What did you give me...?" You asked quietly, feeling slightly tired.

"Absolutely nothing. I promise." He smiled and raised his eyebrows sadly. "It's just that I know human anatomy well, and you were knocked unconscious by one blow to the neck. Perhaps your whole body hasn't woken up yet. And it's possible I accidentally woke you up. Sorry."

"Who are you..."

"I know you met me. My name is Geto Suguru. And I have some options for you. You are my pet and you call me Geto-sama, Suguru-sama, or Master. You are my love, and you call me baby, honey, sweetheart, at first it may just be Suguru. Or there is another option. You refuse me and die as the monkey without the cursed energy."

You widened your eyes at his smile.

And as he started to get closer to you, you pushed him hard, and clumsily jumped out of his grip.

You fell off the step he was sitting on, and, ignoring the pain, you were moving away from him, staring in horror at the dark man.

Are you going to be his pet, love, or die?

You have to run away from him...

You don't want to have to choose...

If maybe you had a chance to know him longer... Maybe living with him would be nice, but you don't know anything about him!

You got up and started running, turning into the first nearest corridor in his house, in this temple...

"Oh." He grunted as he looked at you. Suddenly he smiled. "I like a little bit of aggressiveness. If you get tired of running, why don't we talk?! You won't make it out of here!" he shouted for you to hear.

You were running blindly, you didn't even know where.

You just ran ahead.

You turned around to see if someone was chasing you. There was no one behind you.

Was it a trap?

You turned another corner, suddenly running into something large.

Before you could pull away, two strong hands grabbed you and pulled you into a hug.

"Don't do that again." He said holding your head against his chest. "You can't escape from here, and if you keep running like this, something might happen to you."

You heard some concern in his voice.

And he hugged you too. And it wasn't done to upset you. He was hugging you to keep you next to him.

But somehow you managed to escape from him.

He sighed with the same smile.

"I can see that cute little monkeys need some running to calm down, huh... I'm starting to like it more and more."

He slowly started to follow you where he ran.

You came to a corridor that ended in a door.

You pulled the handle to open the wooden door, but you couldn't. It was closed.

"This is the entrance to my room. You're tired? I can let you in to rest and sleep. I can also offer you food and a warm bath if you wish. Because here you will stay." He continued to smile. "You look so pretty in that kimono. I chose it especially for you. A white kimono for a nice, innocent girl. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you here. Because you are already my love. And I can tell you without hesitation that I reject option three."

You leaned against the door as he approached.

But as he stood in front of you, he extended his hand towards you, and waited for you to place your hand.

And he waited until you finally realized there was no point in running away if he was going to catch you anyway.

You placed your hand on his hand.

He immediately connected your fingers with his and moved closer.

Kissing your forehead tenderly, he leaned down to hug you.

And he spoke in your ear:

"You will be my pet whom I will love. You will be my beloved person. And I will always love you."

#jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen geto #jujustu kaisen #geto suguru #geto jjk #suguru geto #geto x y/n #geto x you #geto x reader #yandere #Yandere Geto Suguru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader

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tnsophiaonly · 5 months

Text

"A shift within reality hurts."

Devotees stated, feeling their body duplicate and travel within different realities.

Part 1, Part 4

TW:

Bad words, (word) graphic mentions of tearing limbs, uhm very bad bad writing (as always) and short (?)

—y—t—i—l—a—e—R—

Out of all the odds in your room, it has got to be that little mirror ball. It reflects your reflection.

It's like those things fortune tellers use to know your fortune? Like this -> 🔮

You don't know how or why you have that but you just kept it, what if you somehow need it soon?

—t—f—i—h—s—

The Zapolyarny Palace, a cold and magnificent establishment where the Cryo Archon, The Tsaritsa orders her subjects.

The Tsaritsa's orders were simple yet held so much meaning and danger, "The Creator has descended upon this lands, and has ascended back to thy's world, they have the answers to this world that we don't, the power and the position. They will be a critical need against Celestia. Bring them here, alive."

It echoes through the halls, the order, sharp and clear. The tinge of cold lingering in her voice.

The 11 Harbingers are currently in the Il Dottore's laboratory,

Only a certain ginger was excited, hopelessly waiting to be able to get to his creator's world.

"Could you cut it out already?!" A purple puppet punched a ginger's arm as the ginger won't shut up about the Creator.

Apparently, only Childe was a devotee, and some Fatui agents too. But the others can't be said the same.

Example.. well The Balladeer. The Balladeer, well is self explanatory...

—s—l—a—o—g—

On the other hand, researches among other nations were also moving, thrilled of the possibility of being in their creator's world.

After the spreaded news of the creator descending, and with the Oracle, '(S/M)' finally talking about the creator event,she has given out wisdom that those who are gifted are finally capable of ascending to the creator's world.

—n—i—a—p—

"Devotees and Acolytes, I, the creator's humble oracle, hereby knowledge that it is my utmost honor and privilege to deliver a message of the utmost significance, Our Grace, who has descended to bless the flowers and very terrestrial of Teyvat has ascended yet again, but now, with a way for us to reach that heaven. The time has finally come for all those who seek ascension, for the pathway to our heavenly paradise has finally opened. Only those who possess the strength and determination to overcome the rigors of the world shall emerge victorious and bask in the eternal glory of our Grace. Let us now offer ourselves in humility and devotion, for our purpose has been revealed. The paradise we seek is within reach, and we shall reap the rewards of our efforts in this life and the next. Come forth, and I shall guide you through this gateway, which will lead you to eternal bliss and utter contentment.." every exact word the creator's oracle spoke with every possible happiness and admiration. As they set off to Mondstadt, other nations were envious of the nation but as so still came either way, (S/N or M) has led them to the very Creator statue, sitting in mid air with its hands in offering,

The statue looked ethereal, but didn't match the Creator's actual look of graciousness, but then, no statue or anything can ever match the Creator can it?

As they stood, (S/M) walked slowly, then, the blonde traveler came in a swoop out of nowhere, in the creator's hands, with a look of shock and confusion, a transcendent mix of the color blue, pink and gold appears in a stair like form.

Guiding and ending to the heavens above. The traveller went up first, then disappeared on the top, turning into primogems, then (S/N) went, turning into primogems too, then archons, then gods (even non-playables), then adeptus, then just at this point every character playable, then vision users, then the last ones were the npc's some were able to get in, some were not.

All came except for the Fatui Harbingers, The Tsaritsa, fully knowing what they're up to, decided to let them be under orders, because unlike Dottore's machine, there's no knowing where this gate will take them. Then she went in, then turned into primogems.

—r—e—w—o—p—

Ever since the creator's descending, deceased ones lived again, La Signora became alive again, Teppei, Tomo... Etc... But those who perished without the Traveller with them were not saved again. They lived in peace yet.

No one knew how Scaramouche came back, but he was definitely with Dottore now, apparently, Dottore exchanged Scaramouche and his clones for the electro and Dendro gnosis to Nahida in the negotiation. That's what they were told then.

And here they were,

Here in Dottore's lab with the help of Sandrone's machinery and Dottore's knowledge and shit, they were able to create a machine to be able to shift.

It was understandable that some were skeptical about the choice, it had a 49.88% out of 100% chance to work isn't it? But, there was no choice but to comply, as it is strictly under the Tsaritsa's words that they should go through a legitimate machine that can bring them to the creator.

Then one-by-one they entered the metallic machine, then felt immense pain as soon as they got in,

It's as if their body was warping with another, their body ripping apart, limb-to-limb, if you were a normal person, it would feel like a punishment for trying to shift into another reality,

Unlike the gateway from the Creator statue that'll feel like going to heaven and all, this machine felt like you were a doll that's been ripped apart when two little girls fought over you, stretching your body apart that it ripped into two.

—-—-—-—

Holding on to your consciousness in class as math class/history class started, it was Monday again unfortunately, school started yet again, you just want to bop your head and cry, why are you studying when you die it's all just gonna get tossed away either way? You wasted your life struggling in stress, pain and all, but it was all for nothing, then again if you just sit there it's also considered as wasting your life isn't it?

Suddenly you want to go back to that strange dream, lucid dream..? Or..

"(Y/n).."

Your name was called out by a classmate, asking for an extra pen sheepishly. You stared at them, eyeing them, then went through your stationary and gave them an extra pen, with a thanks, they started scribbling again. You look at the board, oh shit, you had to take notes or else!

Then you started writing again, with few silly doodles on the pages,

As class goes on, you're unaware that the world you've just went to, has come to you.

Pls ignore to the fact that I disappeared then just appeared out of nowhere, class started becoming HORRID and really a pain in the ass-

+I was not satisfied with the things I wrote in here so it took so much time 😭

Anyways here ya go, I'm dropping another thing connected about this dw.

Taglist

(I still don't know what is this)

@khalhaimdad @yourlocalstranger123 @undecidingfate @urog1 @mmeatt

#genshin impact #yandere #yandere x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #reader

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wellwhatnowlove · 8 months

Text

“He looks down at his feet, searching for words. When he finds them, he looks up at me with the raw emotion of his father, but without the anger or the pain. “Mother, your inheritance was guilt. Father’s was surrender. Because of you, because of Father, mine is struggle. That is better than guilt. It is better than surrender. I do not blame you. I thank you. You never pretended the world wasn’t broken, even when a broken world favored you.”

Light Bringer, pg.144

I GOT TO THINKIN TODAY ABOUT WHAT PAX SAID ABOUT HIS PARENTS’ INHERITANCE AND I HAD A REVELATION. okay sorry VERY LONG WINDED ESSAY BELOW. (Light Bringer spoilers too)

If Darrow’s inheritance has always been surrender and Virginia’s has always been guilt, then Light Bringer is a study in how they’ve swapped those burdens, and both grew immensely because of it. Virginia is forced to face the reality of surrender to keep Mars from falling. She must learn to sacrifice lives on an unimaginable scale. She literally has to surrender Phobos in order to hold Mars and save lives from a bloody battle over pride. She routinely seeks out the injured and dying to confront those she sacrifices. It’s heart breaking and hard to read at times, but not once did she not feel like the character we grew to love. She stays true to herself while mentioning multiple times that she now understands Darrow’s plight more than ever from the last decade.

Then on the flip side, Darrow is forced to reckon with his insurmountable guilt when he is put on trial before the daughters in the rim to answer for betraying them in order to secure a victory for the core rising/republic. He talks about how that guilt put a wedge between him and his family. That guilt made him feel unworthy of love, and, therefore, unable to properly express his love to those he would give everything for. This mirrors Virginia’s past struggle with one particularly potent example being her inability to believe that Darrow could love her after he reveals his true identity as a red in the tunnel under Lykos at the end of Golden Son. She says

“They are my family!” she shouts, face collapsing into grief. “My father hanged your wife. He hanged her. How can you even look at me?”

I think it’s this guilt (and probably some feelings of utter betrayal, panic, and overwhelm) that led her to leave Darrow in that tunnel and indirectly led him into the Jackal’s trap. Which I’m sure she also feels immense guilt for. But I think a large part of her journey off page and into morning star is her coming to terms with that guilt. In confronting it she learns to be vulnerable with Darrow again and comes to accept that he loves her despite the insane complexity of their history. This culminating with her leaning into her understanding of her part in the society and realizing that it puts her in a place to make a true change. All of this accomplished with an education in immense humility, flexibility, and compromise. Which is the lesson Darrow grapples with and I think truly leans into throughout this book. In a way, he is forced to reckon with how his guilt drove him away from Virginia and Pax and even veered him away from Eo’s dream.

I think on a character based level, this will exponentially strengthen their relationship when (please please Pierce) they finally reunite, and will make them a more formidable pair than even before. They now understand each others struggles in such intimate ways that idk if anyone can stop these two.

Then, on a larger plot based level it speaks to the larger themes of resilience, understanding and the fight for humanity. Virginia finds strength in surrender and Darrow finds redemption in humility and compromise.

Then, add in some struggle, grit and pixie dust (and a cool head tattoo I guess. WE SEE YOU OVER THERE PAX AKA ADEPT AUGUSTUS. HELL YEAH KEEP IT UP BABY WOO) and the rising might just have a true shot. Not only at victory, but at redemption and continued effort in the name of what is just and good.

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stilemawillow · 1 year

Text

Heat Has Never Felt So Good [Levi | Cadet! Reader]

Silence - heavy, taut with tension like a guitar's string and gelid in the middle of the most scorching summer heat the generations had encountered - such silence was a bringer of dreaded rejection and shameful humility. Struggling to stay erect and stoic subsequently to the inappropriate suggestion you'd voiced a moment prior, you observed the desk before you with excessive fascination in spite of the painful brightness it reflected straight into your eyes. The cool air in the office hindered not the nervous beads of sweat in their journey along your temple and so they travelled, inexorably reminding you of the reason for their unwanted presence.

Your diffident gaze adroitly slid over to the figure sitting behind the desk you'd considered your saving grace mere seconds ago - the man with his slicked-back ebony hair whose natural response to the heat outside was nowhere to be seen. Levi was staring at you, silent and frowning, as his fingers soundlessly held the collar of his button-up shirt. The window behind his back was closed in order to preserve the room's blissful temperature but you could still hear the birds twittering outside, innocent chirps mashing with the anguished groans of cadets in the training field - cadets whose pained calls you were supposed to be apart of. Instead, you'd been summoned to the Lance Corporal's office, admonished for your poor performance following the coming of summer and prompted to offer a suitable explanation.

In truth, everybody's performance had been severely affected by the heat, but your case was exceptional because you were contending for a place on the Special Operation's Squad and such a show of inexplicable weakness was a big chink in the seemingly perfect armour of reliability and potential you'd created for yourself. Levi wouldn't make such a chink part of his squad and, despite having won his sympathies as a person, you had no way of softening the merciless nature of his role as your strict superior. So you'd tried to explain with as much dignity as possible that your disgraceful mistakes were a result of sleep deprivation, which, in turn, was caused by the terrible heat. Since early childhood, you'd shown signs of susceptibility to hot weather but this summer had evidently hit you harder than any other.

Levi had glared in a rather condescending way before questioning if your only problem was truly the lack of proper sleep, to which you'd nodded your head, recklessly adding that he had no way of relating to your experience since the stone walls of his office and personal quarters shared no similarities with the dorms' wooden edifice and its incapability to ward off the summer heat. Then, to his sarcastic question of 'what can be done about that?', you'd flippantly stated that a good sleep in a cold bed such as his would appear to be the perfect remedy - in fact, knowing he seldom slept in his quarters, maybe he could lend you them for the summer weeks to come.

And here lay the moment of truth, tugging at the painful silence and rushing it out of the closed window as you fearfully eyed the ebony-haired superior and his oddly slovenly appearance - his white cravat carelessly draped around his neck, the first three buttons of his shirt undone and its entirety untucked - the uncanny negligence made the orderly man look quite unlike himself. Maybe his attire had wrongly led to you believe his character would also bear a particular change for the better. His ashen hues glared but his furrowed brow briefly twitched as a reluctant sigh slipped past his pouting lips.

"... so be it. If sleeping in my bed will affect your skills positively I'll be escorting you back here after dinner this very evening." The cold voice left no place for objection, filling your whole body with heavenly alleviation and colourful butterflies, flapping their wings in exultation. You saluted, a dopey smile on your lips as your mind attempted to dispel the overwhelming feeling of complete and utter transfixion holding power over it.

"I hope you'll give me some time to collect my belongings beforehand." The tremulous timbre of your voice didn't go unnoticed by your superior, who was obviously set on presenting your wistful self with his point of view. Both, as was to be expected, differed greatly and while yours had been a plan of action borne of embarrassment meant to excuse your imminent appearance in his personal quarters, his had committed to the idea of your residence and taken the liberty of being as efficient and prompt as possible.

"There would be no need, I'll get them." The curt statement made your clenched fist flinch in startlement as the ebony-haired male gazed down at the papers on his desk after giving your wide eyes a good calculating look. "Dismissed. I'm certain the remainder of your training will be flawless, seeing as you've secured your good night's sleep." The latent derision holding hands with his stern command unfailingly managed to chip away at your armour additionally. Your brows furrowed in repressed defiance as the natural compliant response you had to speak struggled to come into being, making the male curiously glance at your hesitant countenance.

"... it will, sir." Shamefully dropping your gaze to the ground at your feet, you turned to the exit and frowned all the way to the training field, unaware of the involuntary sigh Levi's lips had delivered at the fading sound of your footsteps. Slender fingers coming to pinch the bridge of his nose, the Lance Corporal angrily berated his stupidity in a low voice full of disappointment as the image of your childish pout kept surfacing. The next five minutes he spent leaning back against his chair and muttering curses at himself, with the occasional fatigued sigh making an appearance. Once he concluded nothing inappropriate would come of your temporary stay in his quarters he resumed his work, spitefully clicking his tongue twice as often for the rest of the afternoon.

His hand prompted you to walk through the door with a gentle motion that made your lips purse in rigidity so inane it would've drawn laughter from a corpse. You looked at the interior of the superior's room with hardly masked zest, nightwear clenched by your fidgety fingers as Levi closed the door behind himself. A floorboard gave a moaning creak when you made a small step forth, making your brows knit in halting uncertainty as your shoulders tensed, intimidated by the big bed under the window you were to sleep in. It was strange, you could feel the trickling sweat down the back of your neck though you were well aware it wasn't there - a vaporous phantom that made goosebumps complain in their wake down the length of your arms.

"You won't receive an official invitation, (L/N)." The deep voice made your shoulders jump as the stoic male opened the wardrobe in the corner of the relatively empty room and took a simple cotton shirt and pants from its insides. You caught a glimpse of three separate shelves, each of which was stacked with clothes painted in different representatives of the colour spectrum - white, grey and black respectively. A pair of piercing ashen hues bore into your orbs before their owner snorted in mild amusement. "I'm taking a shower. You may use it as an opportunity to change and tuck yourself in since I'm not your mother and I don't plan on babying you."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry for the inconvenience." You forced out as calmly as was feasible, the tinge of guilt coming out raw and genuine. You heard the short male mutter something under his breath as his cold gaze scrutinized your diffident countenance, but he didn't address you directly and you did your best to not provoke him. The tips of your ears were left to burn in embarrassment when he closed the bathroom door with a small click and you silently marvelled at the plain furnishing of his personal quarters. It was like they belonged to everybody and nobody at the same time - the wooden floor was equipped only with the bare necessities: a bed, a wardrobe, a small chair tucked into the corner with a lit candle sitting on it and a shelf buckling under the weight of the thick books on top.

You glanced at the door of the adjoined bathroom when the shower started running, then your hasty fingers began struggling with your uniform straps. You changed into your nightwear - a comfortable short-sleeved shirt and a plain pair of shorts - and curiously stepped towards the frail bookshelf, ignoring the bed altogether though it was the biggest benefit you could draw from this situation. (E/c) hues fervently flickered from title to title, devouring the letters with utmost vehemence as your fingertips gently glided over the spine of the seemingly oldest book, feeling the dents of each character with longing. Your mind went back to the busy training routine that prevented the indulgence of your favourite hobby and you wondered when the Corporal had found time for these books.

"For once I hoped you wouldn't live up to my expectations." Your hand withdrew from the book like it had stung your fingertips when, in reality, the abrupt sound of the male's voice had been what truly pricked your senses. You swivelled, guiltily clasping your blameful hands behind your back. "I felt you might snoop around." Levi had showered and changed, but even the little droplets of water that dampened the towel draped around his neck couldn't disperse the shame nestled in the centre of your chest. "Go ahead and look, you'll hardly find anything of interest." The dismissive whisk of his hand, paired with the disinterested snort dripping past his lips made your brows furrow in uncertainty. You hadn't exactly gone looking through his underwear but the heat creeping up your neck told you touching the spine of that book had been a crime way worse.

"I'm really sorry, sir." Your muttered apology made his frown deepen as his orbs locked with yours, so acute you felt as if some part of you had gotten cut. The pang in your chest grew in intensity at the sight of his harsh glare but then he blinked, sighed and when his eyelids lifted the anger your naive apology had induced was gone. His grey hues dropped to the floor and you watched a stray water drop hesitantly trace the outline of his strong jaw prior to taking a leap once having reached his chin. He, in turn, watched it hit the wooden floorboard under his bare feet.

"Drop the formalities, (L/N). I feel like a predator when you call me 'sir' in my own bedroom." It wasn't a snarl per se but the self-directed indignation it contained was heard, though unspoken and left unaddressed. Levi left the room before you could respond and you breathed a sigh of relief upon detecting the shuffle of papers coming from his office. Your shoulders relaxed and your guilty stance gave way to a calmer pose but the pang in your chest remained heavy and stubborn.

You sat at the edge of his pristine bed and gave his last command a few minutes of deep thought. Calling him by his first name wasn't something you'd ever considered despite the fact you felt some misplaced affection for him, not only as your mentor but as a member of the opposite sex as well. Now you were going to be sleeping in his bed and having to use his first name because he clearly disapproved of his official title - your adolescent brain was sizzling with bad kinds of thoughts you weren't supposed to have about your superior.

As a result, you laid your head against his cool pillow with a red face and a twitchy conscience. Burning up and wishing you could pinch yourself awake from this surreal experience, you revelled in the pleasant scent enveloping your body. Your mind struggled to let go of the image of Levi's narrow eyes glaring at the floor in an unfathomable manner, so you tried to focus your thoughts on the distracting fragrance oozing from the cool pillowcase you'd subconsciously burrowed your nose into. You were sure you knew what it was but the exact piece of information had slipped past your store of knowledge and was currently dawdling uselessly around in your head. You drifted off to sleep and it came to you just as your brain had decided to pull the plug on your consciousness - lavender. It was lavender.

Your first night in the Corporal's bed didn't quite live up to its inappropriate label. The frowning male spent about five hours doing paperwork only to then doze off in his chair, where the irritating rays of the rising sun found him less than three hours later, frowning even in his sleep. Your eyes fluttered open when you heard him unlatch the window in his office with a creak and your body instinctively flinched in response to the unfamiliar surroundings your pupils observed in the golden sunlight. Then it came back to you in a hasty wave and your tense muscles gradually relaxed, allowing you to sit up and look out the window to your left with the disoriented gaze of a person who'd slept more than well. Yes, as you boasted later to your Corporal, a seven-hour slumber in his bed had been immensely refreshing, to the point you swore you'd show him even better results than you normally did during your training.

The doubt his features had shown in the beginning started to fade - with an inward tinge of pride at that - around the second week of your deal. Your dark circles made way for healthy patches of skin on day five, your tired waddle was gone by the first week and your previous glory came back by the thirteenth day - the tripping down the halls and during laps, the lousy job at cleaning, the slow manner of speech, the shortened attention span during lectures and the visibly worsened state of your reaction time and physical strength in close combat training were no more. The 3DMG exercises were the only presentable part of your resume that didn't suffer any drastic change due to its location under the shade of the trees past the sunlit training fields, but the gradual increase of productivity and stamina you went on to show put them in the same group as your lame mistakes.

Your poor social skills during missions and your inept way of always freezing in place when you thought you were going to deal critical damage to an opponent stayed, but Levi was determined to draw them into a corner and exterminate them - similarly to how a person squished a bug with his foot and looked at the sole of his shoe with abhorrence right after. As your mentor, he had graced the sole of his leather boot with such a look during the budding of springtime after he'd gotten rid of your annoying habit of recklessly storming into battle headfirst, overzealous and a tad bit conceited. Nowadays you occasionally allowed yourself a certain amount of arrogance but it was a controlled exertion of confidence which stopped eliciting anger from your peers, which, in turn, strengthened the trust and reliability you shared with them.

In this case, it took some time but soldiers slowly came to notice the odd change in your skills - something inevitable since they'd watched your abilities deflate until your performance put you in last place amongst every soldier in the building and now they bore witness to grace, strength and agility so unlike your miserable skills up until a week ago it was uncanny. Suspicion rose until it became overwhelmingly obvious, but nobody dared question your bizarre transformation. It contrasted the rest of the soldiers so brightly some superiors approached Levi in order to seek permission to recruit you for their own squads. In all six cases that took place, Humanity's Strongest Soldier would glare, snarl and prohibit it with such vigour it made four out of six Squad Leaders flinch.

"She's contending for a place on my squad," he'd almost growl in that cold voice of his, "so you can recruit her when I say she's unfit to be part of it, which, considering her performance, might not happen at all."

In a world where he hadn't already let you sleep in his bed, you'd probably faint upon hearing how vehemently he defended his position as your mentor and the spot in his squad you might just come to fill by the end of summer. But in this world - this blessed, albeit titan-infested, world - where you slept in his bed and saw him half-naked once every three days you forgot all about flaunting your skills and only focused on the thought of making him proud. Praise didn't matter so long as he kept scrutinizing you with that calculating gaze of his yet never uttered a single reprimand. It didn't matter in moments when he woke you for breakfast and accepted the tea you made for him in the evening with a grateful nod. No compliment in this world would equal the significance of the timid approval in his ashen hues each time you bashfully added his name at the end of a sentence. It wasn't praise you were chasing ever so desperately since your enlistment in the Corps - it was him.

A kind of meticulous routine came into being by the third week you spent in the comfort of the Lance Corporal's cool bed. Whoever woke up first - which mostly happened to be Levi - woke the other when it was time for breakfast. He had his morning shower and you changed into your uniform, then you swapped rooms and whilst he got dressed, you combed your hair and brushed your teeth (with the toothbrush he'd required you bring from your dorm). Each afternoon you showered after training (because he'd have you sleep on the floor if you weren't thoroughly cleaned), had dinner and crept up the staircase to the ebony-haired male's room, supplying every superior you bumped into with the same excuse of being called into the Corporal's office. Sometimes you went out of your way to make tea for him, which was something he was openly appreciative of - especially on nights he had more paperwork than usual.

You also came to establish several unspoken rules during your coexistence: cleanliness was above all for Levi and the moment you disrespected that you'd receive harsher treatment for the remainder of the day - the same, however, went for your personal space. Each rule was learned the hard way - with you running fifty laps for seemingly no reason when you left the bed unmade one morning and Levi coming dangerously close to getting roundhouse kicked into the wall when he walked out of the bathroom a bit earlier. A few others declared that you could get away with leaving the bed unmade if you delivered Levi's finished paperwork to the Commander before waking him up and that, by letting you read his books, Levi could spare himself some of your unprofessional humour the following day.

There were other little things too, but they weren't exactly rules - just periodical occurrences. On nights when the short male left the window open, you'd sneak into his office and drape a thin blanket over him so the cool night wind wouldn't make his muscles cramp. Some nights he spent in bed with you, lying on his back and struggling to keep his eyes closed as you calmed your erratic heartbeat and feigned sleep. Some evenings you indulged in conversing - the topics were both diverse and multitudinous, but the use of his name instead of his title remained constant. Quiet embarrassment painted the tips of your ears and the apples of your cheeks in hot red and you often caught Levi watching you during those moments with a gaze you were yet to decipher. There was something about it, in the candlelight, that made your heart clench - something he pretended not to have noticed himself, because it was too soft to be him, too improper to be allowed and too genuine to be overlooked.

Those few summer weeks, when you weren't busy pretending not to be dying of the heat outside, your thoughts were dedicated to becoming stronger so you could stay at Levi's side and your heart was overcome by an ecstatic feeling akin to that adolescent love you hadn't had the chance to experience prior to this moment. The earnest admiration that had rooted itself into your heart as a child grew a slim stem when you enlisted in the Corps, slowly morphing into the deep attachment of a determined student that would always follow their mentor. There were buds now and, despite having missed the season, they were blooming - how beautiful that feeling of love - inside your chest, blooming and screaming to be let out. You couldn't let them out. That flower - so aromatic, beautiful and pure - would be considered ugly by everybody else, ugly and improper. Maybe even by the very Corporal who'd seeded it.

At night you'd lay in his bed, tangled in the sheets and pressing your twitching face into his pillow. You'd toss and turn, chest constricting painfully at the thought of the frail flower and its untimely existence, and you'd think of your Corporal sleeping in his chair, imminent ache awaiting his muscles as he furrowed his brows at the nightmares and the memories that were by no means any less horrible. You'd think of him and your shut eyes would sometimes sting with unshed tears, then you'd force your thoughts elsewhere but the smell of lavender would keep them in place, desperate and scorching. And somewhere inbetween them, tangled and struck motionless, stood the image of the flower having bloomed in your chest - frail and small. A stalk of lavender.

"You're ogling." Levi's sharp statement made your shoulders jump in fright as you averted your gaze from his bare back with a pout. The earnest - albeit pouty - 'I'm sorry' that slipped past your lips into the still air clearly hindered the process of him getting dressed because the black shirt he'd picked hung from his slender fingers as he turned to look at you, sitting on the bed with one of his books on your lap. "You're not going to deny it?" The question drove your eyes away from his but you kept your face impassive, achieving success through months of trained experience and turmoil. Only the nervous flickering of your orbs betrayed the feeling of embarrassment that had crept into the crevices of your mind. Admittedly, your superior was far from being unattractive, but you wondered if he was aware of it. Even if he wasn't, giving him compliments would be considered inappropriate. Still---

"It's not like you're ugly, sir--- I mean, Levi." Your clumsy correction made his momentary glare fade but the unmistakable sensation of his hues on you remained, austere and anticipant. You glanced up, hastily avoiding the sight of his abdomen and chest to deter the heat from spreading through your body before it reached your face. "Also, I was looking at the marks, nothing else." The brownish bruises adorning his torso, sitting where his uniform straps usually did, gave the impression of something painful - maybe something you wouldn't be able to handle daily. Levi made a few steps forward until he was standing in front of you and you were struggling to sustain eye contact with his cold ashen hues.

"They're just permanent discolouration of the skin. Pity is unneeded." He'd seen it on your face, maybe in the furrow of your brow or the flare of your nostrils or the unintended curl of your fingers, he'd witnessed the sad admiration and he'd called it pity because giving it another name would lead to questions you wouldn't want to answer. You didn't dare dip your head or do as much as nod in understanding, but something had changed in your orbs; something that made Levi snort in mild exasperation. "They don't even hurt." He declared in a cold voice as you blinked, youthful forehead crinkling with doubt and scepticism. "Do you wish to confirm it?"

The fleeting confusion that clouded your uncertain gaze at the inquiry was all Levi needed to see in order to take advantage of the moment and act. His fingers grabbed your hand and lifted it to his chest, quickly coming to sense the alerted tense of your muscles - similar to the involuntary flinch of a person touching something he'd been prohibited from ever coming in contact with. Too shocked to offer resistance, you felt your palm rest over his skin and your mind devoted all coherent thoughts it could produce to the smoothness of it paired with the firmness of the muscle underneath and, of course, panic. Your engines were going into overdrive but once they short-circuited you felt calm enchantment grasp your senses, guiding your fingers up and down the bruises so you could trace their outlines and feel the diminutive dent of his skin.

"How many years did it take for them to form?" Your head tilted to the side as Levi relinquished his grasp on your wrist, letting your fingertips roam with odd composure. You were wholly enthralled by the feeling of it - this closeness - intimate and unplanned. The scent of lavender his body exuded and the lilac colour mingling with the brown - a bruise that would never heal. The male's reaction to your touches was absent on the surface, but your fingertips graced his skin with such light tenderness he found the contact alien. Having been deprived of gentleness his whole adult life, Levi thought the ginger movement of your dainty fingers strange, but not repulsive.

"About three." The low husk of his voice was something neither of you seemed to acknowledge, too hypnotised to process a detail of such subtlety. Gentle grew into compassionate, fear obtained courage - and the wholeness of your palm caressed Levi's chest, up to his collarbone. Your gaze was still hazy when you craned your neck to look at his hues - and when you did they hit you as oddly soft, a muted graphite having lost its conscious glimmer in the dim candlelight. Taken aback by the peculiar change in your superior's eyes, you felt your hand pause in its journey over his pale skin, just having arrived at the crook of his neck in its daring spontaneity.

"Most cadets surely don't live enough to get them." His skin was burning hot under your oversensitive fingers. Hot and damp from the shower he'd taken. Maybe the dampness was what quelled your advance and broke the spell. Or maybe it was the smell of lavender - reassuring and painful - that told you this was too good to have been happening. It might've been the strange grey as well - such an ugly hue, lacking brightness and resolve, lacking gelidity and austerity, lacking everything you'd fallen for. It was the same hue that kept your hand in place only so it could sear it seconds later, so abruptly you felt pain when there was no source.

"Make sure you're part of the minority then." You couldn't stop thinking of how you disliked the unreadable look in his eyes and the one yours were very eager to reciprocate despite not knowing of the exact meaning it bore. For a very small second you could hear him telling you to survive so you could be with him, live and anticipate the moment when he would finally profess his feelings for you, wait and strive for strength and approval until the flower in your chest made its violet blossoms choke you to death - far from the noble demise every soldier looked up to. One moment you heard all that and the next it was nothing - just the muted hue of his orbs and the scorching feeling of his skin. And the words were a rueful phantasm that left your eyes wide and your lips pursed.

"With my performance, I don't think I'll have a problem." Your hand was at once withdrawn, so sharply it made him blink in mild surprise and the relentless glare returned to its rightful place - glimmering with intelligence and something else, something perturbed by the shameful predecessor of its existence. Your Corporal was back and though your mind leapt with jubilation there was a little part of your heart that was a smidge too discontented to witness the detached frown weaving its way back unto his handsome features. He made a step back. Then another one. His ebony locks swayed as he turned his back to the bed and approached the door, latent disgruntlement hidden along the edges of his clenched jaw.

"Just don't get too cocky. You're still a brat." His steps were heavy but his firm voice was a tad bit lighter. His hand settled on the doorknob when he remembered he was still shirtless. Quick to fix that, Levi snorted with condescension before scratching the side of his neck which you immediately recognised as the exact spot your hand had been touching mere moments ago. Your brows furrowed when the door slammed shut after him, leaving you solitary and bewildered - an emotion that had less to do with his out-of-character moment of mellow approachability and more with the perplexing contrast between his words and actions.

For the next two hours neither of you slept and while he sat at his desk - stiff shoulders, furrowed eyebrows and angrily protruded bottom lip - writing and trying his best not to think or make inward inquiries that would be vouchsafed no answer, you lay on the bed - tangled thoughts, clenched heart and sad eyes - with the book in your hands and the question 'why am I sleeping in your bed then?' echoing inside your head. And, much like how your problem was not graced with a solution, his own compulsive list of questions received no satisfactory reply. It didn't make sense - not one fragment of it all - but, as both of you were yet to learn and acknowledge, nothing did when one was under the influence of love.

Some mornings were familiar, natural and lacking in discomfiture. Normally, you woke up, got dressed and went your way, with Levi not sparing you an additional glance, but the longer you stayed, the warmer the candle on top of the chair in the corner felt and the mornings after - all the fresher. In those moments you looked at the sky with new eyes - a bright pair that saw an oddly clear future. Nothing weighted your heart down and your shoulders were never slouched, the flower in your chest was singing. Levi, too, appeared a tad bit softer. He would make a calm entrance with a resting pair of brows and a sharp gaze, and sometimes a cup of steaming coffee would be clutched by his pale fingers.

"You're such a goddamn nuisance." The ebony-haired male had already put on his uniform. You'd slept through his morning shower and the distinct smell of fresh caffeine had made your lids lift some minutes later. He was crouching by the bed and the bored expression sitting on his face failed to convey the exasperation his words had been so desperate to voice. You took the cup from his hand with a grateful smile, a smidge too lopsided to be described as beautiful. With ice rimming his grey hues, the male gave you a warning look and you took a sip from the beverage with a contented sigh.

"Thank you, Levi." You observed the nonchalant pout of his lips when he stood up and turned the other way, just in time to miss the endearing adoration in your orbs as they gazed up at his noble profile. An inaudible sigh escaped your lungs while your superior busied himself with his uniform straps, reminding you of the brownish bruises clinging to his torso under the white shirt he wore. That, in turn, called forth the date you'd seen yesterday in the callendar you had in your room. Autumn was coming, as the first week of September dictated, and with it - the end of your deal with Levi. Your flawless performance no longer required the comfort of his cold bed, which made a prolonged stay in his room pointless and negated the improvement in your relationship. Back to square one, as your peers would say.

"I'm supervising today's training session so we leave in twenty." His imperative voice brought you back to reality, where he was standing by the wardrobe with folded arms and a harsh frown and you were still in bed, enveloped by the enticing smell of coffee and lavender. You sat up with a small snort and nodded your head obediently, warm fingers locked around the cup in their hold. The air of responsibility and promise you wore did nothing to soften your superior's sharp features or melt the pungent shimmer of his hue as he scrutinised the tangled mess your bed hair was.

"Roger that." You saw his eyes narrow in mild suspicion when your gaze averted from the coffee you were holding but there was no spite along the crease between his drawn brows so you concluded you hadn't gotten in trouble with your carefree response; it was so unlike the salute you would always perform at the beginning of your acquaintanceship with the cold ebony-haired male it made your heart clench in bashful shame and guilty delight at the same time. Was this the beginning of an actual friendship or just a strange exception in your superior-subordinate relationship? Such a baffling concept - to befriend the man you felt so much for.

"Get that shitty smile off your face unless you wish to be running laps in the sun." The abrupt appearance of Levi's biting tone brought awareness to your senses, making you realise your facial muscles had adapted themselves to a joyous grin - genuine and peculiar in the eyes of a person who saw no reason whatsoever behind its existence. You let out a weak chuckle and nodded your head once more, to which he clicked his tongue in visible dissatisfaction prior to fleeing the room in order to focus on the little paperwork he hadn't finished the previous night.

You sat on his bed some more, taking small sips from the coffee he'd brought you and struggling to bite back a smile. Two cubes of sugar and no milk - just how you liked it. You never told him that was how you liked it, though. Unable to dismiss the warm voice of the aromatic flower caressing the insides of your ribcage, you didn't think much of the man's earlier vexation and thus missed how its cause wasn't your unjustified happiness but the concerning reaction it evoked in him. Glimmering hues matching your own, Levi stared at the blank sheet of paper he was yet to touch and the only thing he could feel but couldn't comprehend was the worrying beat of his heart. Too young for problematic palpitations and too old for love - that was what Levi thought of himself - but the image of your smile refused to leave him until the very moment you had to leave for your training session.

The same night you were having a hard time falling asleep. Stripes of lightning stained the indigo night sky, creating a contrast that made it seem jet black and eerie. Thunder sounded in the distance, shaking the wet ground and pushing you from one side of the bed to the other with its deafening roar. Big raindrops fell from the endless abyss, splattering closed windows and steady buildings, wetting stone, soil and grass, and singing a chaotic tune that made your body instinctively pull on the thin blankets Levi had supplied you with. Storms had never been your thing but you hardly considered them scary. The weather was clearly undergoing a change for the worse this year, so the conclusion of rain and snow exceeding their expected amount wasn't exactly hard to reach.

You groaned in exasperation when another lightning struck the forest behind the training fields and its echo reached your ears some moments later. You rose from the bed and stared out the window before deciding a glass of water would suffice to distract your fidgety thoughts. You carefully opened the door leading to Levi's office, all the while labouring under the delusion he was sleeping soundly in his chair, too tired to stay awake in spite of the discomfort. Your assumption couldn't have been more wrong. The moment you stepped foot in the office his aquiline gaze found your face and pinned you in place as you closed the door behind yourself, finding it too late to turn back once having been spotted.

"It's late. Why aren't you sleeping?" A cold question and an even more gelid frown to go with it. You shivered, moving to his desk in your nightwear and glancing at the window behind his back before meeting his eyes in the dim candlelight. His ebony locks were slicked back and messy, and his tired expression bore a pair of heavy lids shadowed by intimidating brows. He lacked the energy to scold you for being awake and you knew it. Judging by the unbuttoned shirt hanging from his shoulders and the shocking eyebags clinging to his pallid skin he wasn't in any condition to even think of it as something troublesome. You were well aware he could kick you to the curb no matter how exhausted but that didn't stop you from gaining a diminutive amount of confidence for the time being.

"The rain woke me up and I couldn't fall asleep after that." Your voice sounded small and weak in comparison to the unsynchronised dance of the raindrops against the glass window, but Levi felt no need to command you to speak louder. He liked the timid sound of the tone you used as it was. "Hindering your work process too?" Your curious inquiry led his calculating gaze away from the window in the direction of your drowsy figure as it leaned against the edge of his desk, ponderous and far from graceful in its unsettled condition. You wouldn't consider in a thousand years that Levi would have found you pretty at that moment, with your droopy eyes and dishevelled tresses, and the big shirt slipping off your bare shoulder as your capable hands awkwardly scratched at the back of your head.

"The weather's gone batshit crazy." Was his only retort, drained of both amusement and wit - a noticeable absence which just went to show he was way past the point of joking as well. You nodded your head whilst facing the window and contemplating this year's unpredictable seasonal weather: early bloom of flowers and trees in the spring, blistering summer temperatures and now daily bouts of torrential rain when September's second week hadn't even commenced. Winter would be a dreaded season - ice and blizzards all the way, as far as your imagination went anyway. The white visions of the cold made your brows furrow as you stumbled upon an impending problem of bigger vicissitude that was more deserving of your apprehension.

"Agreed. On the topic, I should probably gather my stuff in the morning." Levi raised a quizzical brow that made your gaze stray back to the window. This was the fourth night you spent in his bed after the coming of rains and lower temperatures. Everybody sensed the weather's scarcely subtle change but you and your mentor were extremely adamant to keep up an oblivious act. At this point, you could take advantage of his reluctance and continue using his bed for the remainder of the year, but that was a line of indecency you weren't willing to cross. "With the autumn rains coming, I think my stay has expired." You explained meekly, dismissing the glare at your temple as a messenger of surprise. Giving simple looks bigger meanings than the ones they possessed was an unhealthy habit you had to rid yourself of.

"Winters are colder here anyways." He responded with an approving hum, making you steal a glimpse of his profile when he turned in his chair to observe the raindrops hitting the window. So immensely handsome, even when overwhelmed by extreme fatigue, as dictated by the curve at the tip of his nose, the outline of his thin lips, the austere beauty of his frown and the sharp edge of his clenched jaw. There was something about the shadow falling over his bloodshot eyes that made their shimmer times brighter and more piercing. It was profusely childish of you to get distracted by such things, but inevitable nonetheless.

"Thank you for humouring me, Levi." Sentences such as “do you want to sleep in my bed then?”, “wood is better at preserving warmth than stone” and “I'd be a fool not to return the favour” lifted their tempting heads at you, expectant gazes awaiting your choice. But you wouldn't make it, mostly because you knew the Corporal would shoot you down, offering immediate refusal in the form of a pointed glare or a stern “no”. So you settled for simply voicing your gratitude, seeing as it was something he would have little reason to glare at you for.

"The least I can do for the newest addition to my squad." Deep voice, cold eyes, nonchalant huff - adjectives you were incapable of matching to their suitable nouns due to the shock that struck your body, abrupt and piercing like a blade. Levi gifted your gaping mouth and uncomprehending hues a brief amused glance. You could swear his lips twitched in restrained mirth - a twitch that would've taken the form of a genuine chuckle had the ebony-haired male been less sombre and strict. "Don't swallow your tongue now. I haven't given the final form to Erwin yet. I was filling it out tonight." It took you some time to negate the bemusement his statement had caused but the result left your body light and your mind full of euphoria.

"So you'll call me 'cadet' from tomorrow onwards?" The crestfallen words were spoken curiously as your chest swelled with gelid pride and warm misplaced disappointment, and you distinctly felt the drop of your stomach when your superior gave a curt nod after a moment of contemplation. "And I go back to addressing you as 'sir'." The flat statement could hardly be labelled a question but its confirmation arrived nevertheless, making a small pang pull at your heart. "That's surprisingly disappointing when I just got used to calling you 'Levi' without flushing in embarrassment." The weirdly unabashed admittance made your Corporal's features contort in mild confusion and you could almost see his lips mouth the word “embarrassment?” as his calculating orbs inspected your countenance for any traces of said emotion. "It's hard to get used to the idea my hero lets me use his first name like I'm not just a child looking at him in the street."

Your bashful explanation - accompanied by a pair of tense shoulders and a nervous flickering gaze - made the male's wan features contort in an abrasive scowl as he turned to face you instead of the window. His lips were pursed so tightly they painted a straight line across the lower half of his visage and his stormy hues shone with additional spite upon locking with yours. Then his voice came out, biting and imperious: "Your hero is too idealised to be worthy of actual worship." The animosity and reproach it held, you realised, were things directed at himself he couldn't help but let slip past the chinks in his own armour. Your tense shoulders slouched as you smiled - more so at this part of him he was unintentionally letting you see than him.

"He's not. He's a flawed middle-aged man with a lot of duties who is often tired. His temper's bad but he's patient when he needs to be. What he lacks he makes up for, with no exceptions. That's what I like about him." Your confession, smooth and steady, lacked the usual shyness with which you often took it upon yourself to talk. The drumming of the rain was a rhythmic background you couldn't rid yourselves of, but neither seemed to mind. All it took was a glance - Levi's silver hues searching for yours in dubious surprise - and your halting resolve to be confident crumbled completely. "I've said too much, I apologise if it made you feel uncomfortable, sir." Downcast gaze, sucked in breath and a lavender stalk tickling the back of your throat. You never saw the man's pallid features adopt a borderline embarrassed expression, nor did you bear witness to the doubtful glances he sent around the room, little messengers to ask all inanimate objects the office contained if he was in his right mind, thinking the things he dared come up with.

"Reverting to that shitty title. Why don't you prove you've learned how to use my fucking name, (L/N)?" He snarled, annoyance slipping through the wall of composure he tried to build. Your shoulders shrunk a size but you didn't distance yourself from him or the desk, you didn't have the heart to do it - not when you felt this warm and this tense, this pleasantly embarrassed. “Keep calling my name,” his enchanting orbs whispered imploringly, and you would try adhering to the command though it was not real. "Mute when speech is required. And red to top it off. Have I embarrassed you?" The redness creeping at the base of your neck and the tips of your ears spread further upwards, tinting the apples of your cheeks crimson and making your pouting lips part in mild defiance.

"A little." The humble admittance made Levi snort as you leaned back against his desk - something he would never allow under normal circumstances - vouchsafing his cold eyes a look of mild suspicion that made his thin eyebrow raise challengingly. Your lips pouted in annoyance, glare almost as half-hearted as his when he reprimanded you during training. "Are you by any chance having fun by doing it?" The flow of your blood circulation was still heavily focused on the sides of your face but that didn't stop you from attempting to intimidate your Corporal, who seemed, besides extremely unimpressed, quite amused by the peculiar show of confidence on your side.

"I don't know. You tell me. Would I let anybody sleep in my bed if I couldn't benefit from it?" There was something - something twinkling - in his orb that drowned out its grey colour and the relatively big size of its pupil. It was something that prevented you from noticing his hue was grey contrary to silver and that his eyes had come to narrow in that way you'd seen some weeks ago during your ogling. It was something pretty - almost mischievous - and it attracted you with its simplistic beauty to the point you couldn't think of anything but the man possessing it. Prosaic as it was, the waxen colour of his complexion was made to look extraordinarily healthy and his tired visage's wan features suddenly seemed handsome and uplifted, the lilac crescents disappeared from their shallow nests and, for a single second, he officially became the one man on this world you had eyes for.

"Despicable," you muttered, overcome by the irrational hypnotising urge to reach out and touch the pale temple at his side with its little throbbing blue vein - a result of all the stress and fatigue. Was that because he'd been filling out forms to finalise your transfer to his squad? Was it because he'd been writing reviews about your performance that justified his choice? Was that terrible expression on his face because of you? Your fingers clutched the edge of the desk until your knuckles turned white - a subconscious reaction the ebony-haired male's observant hues immediately pinpointed. It took him very little to understand a nasty thought had wormed its way into your mind but it would have never occurred to him that it concerned him directly, much less his well-being.

"Make sure you're faultless before judging. The fact I pointed out your ogling only once doesn't mean I didn't notice the rest." Determined to distract you from your worries, Levi opted for the one option he knew would undeniably reap success - embarrassment. His mocking words made crimson blossom over your cheeks and erased the dutiful air of responsibility and morbidity your features often held when not busy portraying another emotion. Levi forced his eyes away from the endearing sight with a scoff, once more telling himself he was too old for this - for you. "Go back to bed now, (L/N). You've entertained me enough for one night." The dismissive whisk of his pale hand prompted your gaze upwards and away from the floor you'd admired ever so fervently a moment ago. Uncertainty gathered in the crease between your brows and your heart clenched as you pushed yourself off his desk, the lavender stalk reaching up to chase the air from your throat and hinder your speech.

"Could I ask you to join me when you finish here?" Insecure and small, close to a bluish colour in the dim lighting and muffled by the loud drumming of the rain, the question hung from the ceiling in the cool air, swaying from side to side in an attempt to attract Levi's attention. The male's lips visibly pursed as he glared at the papers on his desk, eyes not daring to look at you. Mirroring the action, you anticipated his answer with a pleading furrow of your brows, contrary to his displeased one. There was silence - heavy, taut like a guitar's string and burning amidst the first of many gelid nights to come - a silence that was a bringer of feared refusal and shamefully crushed hopes. There would be no miracles this time because your ludicrous inquiry crossed a line neither of you had dared confront prior to this moment.

"No." Strident, succinct and stoic - a proud genuine response that wouldn't push the boundaries of your future active superior-subordinate relationship and thus hinder communication or teamwork. Feelings and intimacy weren't a good mix when you wouldn't be anything more than a mere cadet to him as of the following morning, much less when expressed vocally. And you seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. You fled the office with a despondent nod and not another word, softly closing the door behind yourself. Moping because of a reaction you knew you'd receive was useless, so you ignored the tears gathering in the crevices of your ribcage and lay on the big bed, tucking yourself into the corner by the wall under the window so the rain could block all unwanted notions.

You didn't know how long you lay there, clutching the covers and pressing your knees against the cold stone, but at one point the salty taste of tears you couldn't feel yourself shedding wet your lips and you snorted, engulfed in the dim light of the murky moonbeams and the disappointment clinging to your heavy bones. At the window frame stood the shards of your shattered hope, assembled as to beautifully shine and reflect the glistening raindrops gliding down the glass window. Levi's pillow lay on the opposite side of the bed as you pressed your forehead against the wall, desperate to escape the scent of lavender and the thoughts of its owner it would trigger. Slowly drifting off, you didn't hear the soft click of the door, nor the quiet footsteps coming to a stop at the bedside.

No matter how inconveniently unfortunate your situation, you dreamed of nice things - such as the ones you couldn't have in reality. You dreamed of a training session in the sun, a small word of praise and a tight hug in the shade of a nearby tree, bathing your being in lavender and making your knees give out in alleviation. You pictured a gentle but desperate embrace, and though you knew no words of affection would exit Levi's lips, you heard the echo of his thoughts, telling you he didn't want to let you go. Images of your hands clutching his body for support appeared in your mind, followed by a moment of serene mutual understanding. You both knew this was wrong. But there was no “but” glued to the last word. There was a period instead - a hopeful little end that would allow no further arguments on the topic.

In your dreamland, Levi's fingers were confident as they cupped your face whereas yours were shaking in unbelieving elation on his shoulders. In your dreamland, Levi's hues were silver and glimmering with a burning resolve, a goal in mind. In reality, when the mattress shrunk under his weight you didn't feel the insecure touch of his fingertips caressing your cheek to wipe the tear stains, nor did you connect the smell of lavender coming off his body to anything real. And when he cleared the messy tresses from your face and wrapped his arms around your shivering form you felt the confident embrace of a self-assured man who knew exactly what his feelings for you meant. In your dreams Levi was never insecure, never uncertain, never indecisive - those traits had not once represented him in your eyes. How would you feel knowing they had formed a ball at the back of his throat as he buried his nose in your hair, trying not to choke or recoil in self-contempt because of what he was doing?

That question, much like many others, would be gifted no tangible answer. All you knew, for the time being, was that the malnourished flower in your chest kept singing amidst your misery and would keep blooming until its aromatic petals fell from your lips or its stalk wrapped around your beating heart and crushed it. The next morning you awoke bright and robust, distancing yourself from melancholic notions that would only serve as a distraction. You sat up, noticing the figure sitting at the edge of the bed when it entered your line of sight. The air was heavy with the smell of lavender and fresh coffee, and the sky was an optimistic baby blue. Levi, having sensed your movement, turned to hand you your drink. You took it with a grateful nod and a shy smile, failing to notice the affectionate glimmer in his hues as he watched your visage.

The ebony-haired male didn't speak - not of your recruitment, not of the imminent training you'd face, not of the end of your stay and not of last night's conversation. You sat there, watching the bed hair he never had after sleeping in his chair and the creases over the sheets you'd hardly touched, and your tongue was made of lead but your heart felt light. Your lips pursed as you bit back a smile and sipped your coffee, hiding your conflicted endearment behind the china's thick rim. Levi was, of course, already quite aware of it, but had no intention of shattering your delusions on the topic of his oblivion. So he turned and sat across from you on the bed, drinking the tea he'd gotten for himself from the kitchen and not forgetting to omit the fact he'd slept in for the first time in his adult life. Past the closed window behind your back, the twittering of birds mashed with the faint voices of your comrades having breakfast in the mess hall - faint voices yours was supposed to be a part of.

Skipping breakfast was Levi's last gift to you for the time being - a few peaceful minutes filled with comforting silence and a strange sense of mutual understanding. There were no passionate hugs or declarations of undying love. There was the lingering scent of coffee and black tea, and two pairs of glimmering hues locked on each other as the owners hid their quiet content behind cups' rims and fidgety hands, equally satisfied to have indulged in their selfish urges and unravelled that summer heat had come to reveal itself as the least of their problems. If nothing else, it might've subjected you to a big amount of torture but it also gave you the opportunity to feel closer to Levi and the chance to get to know him before things between you turned professional. Heat had given each of you an opening - you to accept your love and Levi to fall victim to it - so it was a pity neither of you thought of thanking it.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman fanfiction #snk x reader #reader insert #if you didn't know already i love building up the feelings and not exploring them inside the frame of a romantic relationship #so yet another open ending for you #i do be very interested in the emotional dynamics #should've studied behavioural sciences or psychology lol #levi is too soft and too in denial as usual #reader here is just a bit melodramatic #but that's the whole point so my metaphors can be employed lol #hope you enjoy

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