#he’s so commanding and has such a presence
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— midnight ventures ˚⁎⁺ levi ackerman x f!reader (18+ MDNI)
You shouldn’t have looked and he shouldn’t have been there.
But Fate can have a funny sense of humor. The punchline that night? Stumbling onto your naked Captain in a hot spring… and doing something about it.
content — Rated E - Canon universe, Snowed-in, Winter, Hot Springs, Power Dynamics, Smut, Orgasm Delay, Oral (f. receiving), Authority Kink, Unprotected sex, Creampie, Biting, Multiple Orgasms, Light dom/sub dynamics, Soft!Dom Levi (wc: 11.7k).
Thanks to my BETA @stellar-smth. Written for @sixpennydame following this prompt: "I can't get enough of you."
Crossposted on AO3.
The mountain is a lonely, cruelly cold place.
Up here, everything is covered by planes of white, endless valleys rolling and coming. Icicles cling onto winding branches, while roots are drowned in bitter cold. Even nature seems to be at a complete standstill here.
Getting lost here would be ill-advised.
And yet, here you are, stranded, with the last person you ever expected to be with.
Captain Levi Ackerman.
“That was our last one, sir,” you say as you lower the flare gun, securing it to the harness strapped to your wool jacket. Gray smoke, usually reserved to warn of the presence of abnormals, now towers above you. It was a last hope to signal someone to your location and unfortunately, no answer has come.
You are, in every sense of the word, lost.
"You grew up around here, didn't you?" comes Levi's voice, that his gravelly and magnetic tone that always makes you instantly zero-in on him. "Any of this look familiar?”
You meet his impassive stare, and you try to ignore the familiar flutters forming in the pit of your stomach.
“I did. But I’m sorry, sir, I don’t recognize these parts,” you answer evenly, glancing at the footprints in the snow. “Everything looks the same to me.”
“I see.”
You rub your hands over your covered arms, trying to create your own means of warmth. "My father used to say these mountains were a death trap come winter. I suppose there was some truth to his words.”
“A death trap.” Levi clicks his tongue. “A novelty in our lives, I’m sure.”
Your chuckle beneath your breath.
Somewhere to the north of here is a military outpost, the destination of your supply round. Unfortunately, as things stand now, you won't reach it on time. Perhaps if you had ODM gear or horses, you might have already reached it. But winter in the mountains renders both useless: the hooks don't secure properly because of the ice, and horses aren't trained to navigate such terrains.
Hence, you are doing everything by foot.
“It's going to be dark soon,” Levi points out in a monotone voice, as if this situation wasn’t a matter of life-and-death.
You stare at the darkening clouds over the horizon. "Yeah."
Levi kicks some snow with his boot, white particles clouding the air. “Let’s head back down, I saw a cabin on our way up.”
“Yes, sir.”
With his directives now laid out, you begin the walk down. Levi sets the pace, keeping a diligent speed that ensures your bodies stay warm and your minds stay sharp. For a while, that’s all there is to it. Nothing but the crunching of footsteps in snow and the wind howling across white nothing.
The silence gives you a moment to yourself, one where you're able to take in your surroundings, including the sight of your Captain next to you.
Like you, Levi’s appearance is marked by the cold. His eyes, red-rimmed; eyelashes, glistening white; his cheeks, flushed with a rosy hue; his hair, flowing and ebbing midnight.
It suits him, this look. All dressed in white, he looks beautiful.
Not exactly a surprise, you suppose. Your Captain could wear a rag and still look good.
It’s an objective, albeit unfortunate, truth. Your Captain is beautiful, magnetic, striking… and you happen to have a big, fat crush on him.
It’s not like it's a secret. You think everyone in the Corps knows at this point. The brats from the 104th love to tease you about it. So does Commander Hange, for that matter—somehow, you think it is no coincidence the two of you ended up paired for this mission.
Meddlers, they all are.
"Oi, focus on the road," Levi grumbles.
Your cheeks warm, feeling like your Captain caught you red handed with your daydreams, even if you know that, objectively speaking, there's no way he did (Levi is many things, but a mind reader isn't one of them. Thank the Walls for that.)
Despite knowing that, you can't help but stammer, "S-sir?"
"You're not focused on the road. You're going to slip and hurt yourself."
And he's right, of course. It is slippery. Dangerous, even.
But how exactly does your Captain even know you aren't focused on the path? He's not looking your way.
(Over the year, you've learned this hard truth: Levi always knows, somehow.)
A snow storm has picked up by the time the cabin comes into view. Relief expands in your chest; you were just starting to lose the feeling of your toes.
The shelter appears to be deserted. Out of courtesy, you knock several times, checking the perimeters for signs of life, but when it’s clear no one is inside, your Captain decides that survival precedes politeness.
He surprises you with a new skill: opening locked doors.
“Dare I ask when you learned to pick locks, s-sir?” you stutter as he uses the tools from his bag. His movements are nimble and practiced, like a well-oiled machine. “S-secret skill from the Underground?”
From his crouched position, your Captain shoots you a blank look. “You may not ask.”
With a click, the door swings open.
You enter, raising your oil lamp to illuminate the inside. A half-decorated living room with a dining table, a sofa, and a fireplace. There are additional rooms to the back.
"Nobody’s lived here for months,” you comment, sniveling.
“They intended to come back.” He bobs his head to the right. "There's fresh wood and supplies over there."
You hum in agreement, teeth chattering. “It’s-s common enough for folks beneath the mountains to have a second house up here. Maybe they plan on coming up come s-summer.”
Levi grunts out a sound, presumably not caring too much as to why the house is well-equipped, but glad that it is all the same. Either way, you're clearly trespassing on someone's property, and you hope that whoever this house belongs to won't mind soldiers occupying it for one night.
Knowing the Captain, they'll probably find it in a cleaner state than the one they left it in, anyway.
But before that, your Captain seems to have other plans.
“Before we do anything else, we need to take care of you,” he declares.
Your Captain’s gray eyes then narrow onto you, roving up and down. His attention makes you straighten in place, feeling uneasy to be in his spotlight. Levi closes the door with a swing of a leg. His stare never strays from his thorough inspection.
A shiver licks your spine. “S-sir?”
“You’re shaking like a leaf. Strip, now.”
Your stomach stupidly flips at Levi’s orders.
"You need to change into something dry," he adds in a rueful tone.
You chuckle nervously while your brain goes into overdrive.
... Shit.
This is going to be a long night, isn't it?
Trying to push aside all the ways you feel overwhelmed by Levi's presence (you are, after all, fucking cold), you begin to remove your ice-coated gloves. This, however, proves to be an exceptionally painful endeavor—you suck in a breath when you realize you can't completely bend your fingers. Oh, no. Why can’t you bend your fingers?
“Damn it, you’re like an icicle,” comes Levi’s sharp voice behind you. Before you can make sense of anything, you feel your Captain by your right side, seizing your hands to inspect them.
You wince.
Levi is right, of course. Your fingers feel as though they are frozen, though you know they’re not. You can still move them, just painfully.
Still, you’re not exactly feeling peachy right now. You’re visibly trembling and your balance is growing more wobbly. And why is your vision so hazy?
“Why didn’t you speak up earlier?” Levi scolds. He shrugs off his own gloves and scatters them to the floor. He grabs your hands into his own, rubbing to create friction.
You stare, watching his slender fingers—rough and calloused and yet, so gentle—encompass your own. It’s the first time he touches you like this, and even if there’s nothing romantic about the gesture, your heart somersaults all the same.
(Stress and romantic attraction cause such similar reactions, you note in passing.)
“I’m s-sorry, sir. I really didn’t realize I was feeling so cold,” you say.
“Do you have something dry to change into?"
You nod.
“Good. Go change while I get the fireplace going,” he tells you.
You do just that.
While Levi works on the chimney, you discover that the rest of the house consists of two bedrooms and a lavatory. You don’t waste time inspecting them; you quickly lock yourself in a room. The first layer to go is your coat, but everything else is eventually removed. You change into dry pants and a sweater retrieved from your bag. Then you lay out your belongings, as well as Levi’s scattered coat and gloves, on wooden chairs, placing them near the starting fire, hoping (praying) that they dry by tomorrow morning.
Levi’s just finished throwing several logs into the fire. He stands up to meet you, looking at you through a half-lidded stare.
Unlike you, your Captain's clothing is relatively dry; only his gray shirt sports wet patches, the fabric clinging to his chest. You try not to stare at his well-defined muscles for too long.
(Even if you really, really, really wish you could.)
The beginning of crackling amber hovers on one side of Levi’s face, creating sunken shadows on the opposite side.
“Looks like cleaning will need to wait. You’re trembling like a drowned rat,” he says.
You conceal a smile. “L-like the ones in the Underground, s-sir?”
“Yeah, and I’ve seen enough for a lifetime.” His eyes narrow to slithers. “Just… sit your ass down on the sofa. I’ll find blankets and make tea.” You stare at him blankly, which he seems to take as some kind of signal to press the urgency in his tone. “Fucking stay awake, got it?”
You give him a confused look, but soon catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the windows. Ah. You're not looking so well—your lips are chapped, and there's shadows plaguing your eyes.
Levi finds several blankets in a wardrobe. With your help, he moves the sofa from one side of the room to the next, positioning it right in front of the fire. Levi forces you to sit (“But sir, I can—” “Stop arguing and sit the fuck down.”), and soon, he layers covers over your shoulders.
The sofa shifts under his weight as he sits next to you.
“You alright?” he asks.
You nod, still groggy. You're still cold, but the tea is helping a little.
Still, you should really try to warm up now. You attempt to take a sip of your drink, but in your excitement, you forget the fact that fresh tea tends to be, in fact, piping hot.
It trickles down to a burning sensation down your throat. “Pah, I think I just burned my tongue.”
“Now I'm starting to think you take pleasure in inflicting pain on yourself.”
“N-no." You gulp nervously. "I just didn’t notice the tea was so hot.”
“It's tea."
"Yeah, well. I guess I'm still not thinking straight. It's just s-still so cold in here.”
You do your best to hug the cup of tea with both hands, still audibly shivering, while snuggling into the blankets Levi threw over you. In front of you, the hearth continues to warm, staining the room with a glow that's oddly comforting.
A log splinters.
Then, Levi’s voice barrels through: “Hand over the tea.”
You turn towards him.
Your Captain is fixing you with a severe frown. Without questioning his orders, you hand him the drink. You think he might add some lukewarm water to it to make it drinkable, but to your surprise, he places both cups on the cold floor close to the edge of the sofa.
A confused look draws on your face.
What now?
“Fucking come here already,” your Captain orders.
And he gestures with two fingers in his direction.
That’s when you realize what Levi’s offering. He’s… beckoning you closer.
He wants to warm you up.
You gape at him.
This isn't happening. Is it?
But apparently not interested in watching you mull this over, Levi doesn’t leave you time to consider his proposal. He yanks on the blankets draped over your shoulders, reeling you close. You heave as the back of your skull collides with his collarbone, and you readjust against the crook of his neck.
“S’ just for a moment,” he mumbles under his breath, arms settling by your side.
And who are you to contest that? He's your Captain, you can hardly disobey him (well, you know you could disobey this particular order, but it's too late for that now).
So you let him tuck you close, and you discover that Levi is warm, and you think how nice that feels after hours of walking in cold weather. In fact, Levi’s body rather reminds you of a furnace right now, burning at its strongest in winter. His embrace creates a little cocoon of body heat just for you; soon, all you can smell is him, the scent of tea leaves and cotton enveloping you into a lovely state of serenity.
(You always did love Levi's scent.)
With enough elements grounding you, you let your head roll back, pressing against his right shoulder blade, trying to ignore his steel muscles (that you can, admittedly, finally feel to some degree—and they are just as hard as you always imagined they would be).
“Fuck, you’re freezing.” Your Captain’s voice rumbles against your back, presumably feeling the cold sting of your cheek as you nestle closer.
In response, Levi’s hands slot over your forearms, something careful and hesitant about his touch. You hold your breath, feeling his fingers spread against your sweater. There, he begins to rub up and down, repeated motions that create tiny tingles down their path.
The added friction renders you speechless.
It was one thing to be so close to him before; now, your Captain is essentially stroking you. His attempts to create warmth spread like wildfire, and in an absence of coherent thoughts, you let the fire consume you.
Soon, even the fireplace growing in size doesn’t seem to phase you. It licks the cold air, spreading from all sides, but it is nothing compared to the burning sensations simmering across your neck, your cheeks, and down to your core. It’s like Levi’s touch is commanding it everywhere, this warmth, leaving you flustered and confused.
Then Levi’s fingers make contact with your bare wrist, and you jolt.
Because unlike the rest of his body, his hands are freezing.
“What… Captain! Your hands are—w-wha—” You let your voice trail, heart plummeting in your chest, when you come to a realization, a realization that makes you a little frustrated. “Hey! You were cold all along as well!”
A clicking sound resonates against the shell of your ear. “Stop yapping.”
You try to move to face him, but Levi grabs your wrists with an iron grip, keeping you locked against the expanse of his chest, making his order quite clear.
“Quit squirming and stay put,” he mutters.
“But, Captain, you gave me all the blankets,” you complain, for once foregoing your respect for him and letting your concern speak volumes instead. A decided frown settled between your brows. “What would I say to Hange if their best soldier died trying to save me?”
“I wasn't going to die."
"But what if you did?"
"Then I’m sure you’d have found a creative way to spin it.”
“You still shouldn’t have done that. I’m not worth Humanity’s Strongest.”
“Stop saying stupid shit and focus on staying warm.”
You sigh. Your Captain and his stubborn ways. He was never good at putting his needs on the line, and years of military service haven’t changed this fact.
Still, not finding the energy to argue back, you allow the conversation to die out.
It is only a minute later, as you try to relax back in your position that you notice that Levi’s breath has mellowed out as well. In fact, your Captain’s attempts at creating frictions have slowed in urgency. His pace is now languid; his fingers are wrapped around your shoulders while his thumbs slide up and down, up and down. Slow.
You imagine that the two of you rather look like two people lounging on a sofa after a long day's work.
Like lovers.
“Tea's ready,” comes Levi's husky voice, making you jump in your seat.
You swallow down all the feelings bubbling at the back of your throat—the ones begging and begging to be let out—keeping your face trained ahead.
“R-right. Um, thank you for that, Captain,” you say. "I feel all better now."
Breaking away from his embrace, you try to avoid his burning gaze. You grab both cups, handing him one without sparring him a glance.
Instead, you move to sit at the edge of your seat, far away from your Captain. Between the two of you, the covers bundle together, discarded.
“So, what do you think?” he asks.
You stare at your flustered reflection in the tea cup. "Mm?"
“Why the hell does it smell like old eggs in here?”
That takes you right out of it.
You finally look up at Levi, meeting his lidded stare. Old eggs?
“... Sorry?”
“The fucking stench,” he mutters, wrinkling his noise. “It reeks in here.”
And that’s when you realize that Levi is talking about the smell in the air, the scent that’s lingered everywhere since you entered the house, but you were too focused on everything else to notice.
An odor you know well enough.
“Oh,” you say dumbly, “that’s the smell of a hot spring.”
“What?”
You finish your cup of tea in one gulp, now just perfectly warm and drinkable, and place it back on the floor. “I think this house might have one.”
You swiftly get up, darting to the bedroom you changed in earlier.
And sure enough, as you pull the curtains open, you notice a familiar sight. The back gardens of the house, all dusted in white, are painted with steam and water.
A hot spring.
.... And you are, you realize, a complete idiot.
Why didn't you think of this before? You could have simply taken a dip to warm up.
“What’s that?” Levi’s monotone voice comes from behind. He’s close to you, hovering just behind your shoulders, but you do not turn around. You’re certain that if you do, that you will find him bathed by the moonlight and that you won’t be able to form a single coherent sentence.
“A natural body of water, sir. It’s what Commander Hange was talking about in their briefing for this mission. Hot springs are found all over these mountains..." You bite your lower lip. "I didn’t realize we were right next to a hot spring. I could have spared you all the effort in warming me up.”
“No thanks, I’ve no intentions in having us swim around in something that smells so foul,” he grumbles. “Besides, it’s not good to go from two extreme temperatures.”
You hum. “True enough.”
“It smells vile.”
“It’s the sulfur. It’s great for muscle tension.”
“Sounds dubious.”
“I promise, it’s true!”
Forgetting your own advice, you turn around to drive your point home, and you realize that Levi is close—that you could count his eyelashes, if you wanted. But you don’t, because normal soldiers don’t think about counting the eyelashes of their superior.
“W-When I was young," you stammer, "my parents sometimes brought me up to the mountains to swim in them. They’re perfectly safe.”
Levi makes a face. “I’ll pass. But I guess it’s good to know the stench isn’t coming from the house itself.”
You snort.
Levi’s eyes seem to soften, half-lidded as they were. And just as you suspected, the moonlight trickling in really does something to your Captain’s face, bathing in with a silver hue that brings out the blue in his eyes.
Don’t look at his lips, don’t look at his lips, don’t lips…
“Looks like titan steam,” the Captain suddenly comments, looking at the steam fogging the windows beyond your shoulders.
He takes a step back.
You let out a much-needed breath, one you didn’t realize you were holding all along. “Uh-huh. It does.”
You glance back towards the hot spring, noticing that the snowstorm is close to subsiding, a cloak of black draping the sky beyond.
“Well, I suppose we should get to work, now that we’re all warmed up, huh?” you suggest.
“Yeah. Let's get this dusty-old house spotless.”
That night, you can't fall asleep.
This in itself isn’t a rare occurrence—most Scouts have somewhat questionable sleeping habits. Between the world of titans and watching comrades die, there's plenty of reasons for soldiers to struggle with sleeping.
The problem is, at least tonight, the culprit isn’t insomnia.
It’s… something else.
Something that's lead your thoughts astray.
Maybe it's everything that happened with the Captain earlier, maybe it's the snowy setting that feels oddly romantic, maybe it's the cold that zapped your brain but... you keep on imagining what it’d be like to have Levi next to you, doing indescribable things to you. You imagine him turning on his pillow, taking his time to take in every line of your exposed skin. He’d unravel you with his gaze alone, you’re sure of it. Would he bestow the same intensity he reserves in training? Would his fingers hook around your limbs with the same ferocity? You think they might.
You think—
You groan, cutting your fantasies short. You and your damn fixation on Captain Levi—the one person who couldn’t possibly be less within your reach. This crush of yours must be a cruel joke from Maria, Rose, Sina… maybe all three of them combined.
More importantly, why is it all resurfacing now of all times? It's been fucking years that this one-sided crush of yours has been, just, there. In all this time, you've managed to reign in your emotions.
So why? Why won't your mind stop wandering into dangerous territories? Why can't you shut it down even now?
Whatever the reason may be, you need to find a solution to your... predicament. You suppose you could try to be quiet about it here, to bring yourself the release you desire, but you fear your Captain hearing you, given that he's sleeping in the room next to yours. You can’t imagine being caught in the act of pleasuring yourself.
No.
You need to find somewhere private.
Somewhere like…
Oh.
The hot springs.
Of course—why didn’t you think about it before?
At once, you shuffle to a seated position in your bed, glancing out of the windows of the bedroom. The weather has cleared up by now, freckles of delicate white weaving through the air. Just beyond it, the hot spring awaits.
Serene. Lovely. Inviting.
Just the kind of spot you've been dreaming of.
Sure, your Captain wasn’t too keen on the smell, but you can wash afterwards.
Yes, this will have to do.
With your grand master-plan now laid out, you quickly spring into action. You gather your belongings: a towel, boots, an oil lamp.
In the main room, the remains of the fireplace are still dim and warm. Levi is occupying the second bedroom, and his door is closed shut—just as you’d hoped. It’s well past midnight, he must be asleep.
You grin to yourself. So far, your plan is a resounding success.
Outside, the air hangs still. The blizzard's fury has long passed, leaving only delicate snowflakes that twirl gracefully through the air. You pause to savor the newfound peace, taking in the picturesque landscape: rolling hills blanketed in pristine white, majestic forests embracing the mountain's gorges.
And the hot springs.
Nestled nearby, the cabin's springs stretch impressively, their shape narrow and serpentine rather than wide. Smooth rocks jut out over the water's edges, with pines and shrubs clinging to them. Together with the rising steam, they weave a misty veil that softens your view of the night.
Shedding your clothes, you quickly step in.
And oh... the initial touch of warm water is everything you'd hoped for and more. It sends a delightful trail of goosebumps trailing across your body.
The hot spring is shallow enough for ease, yet deep enough to envelop you comfortably as you sit. As you wade deeper, the water laps gently just above your chest, soothing the day’s weariness from your muscles. You let out a contented sigh, a particular knot in your spine coming undone.
This is the respite you've craved these past hours, especially after today's strenuous hike. It's a pity, really, that your Captain was so against the hot springs. This might have done him some good.
You venture further in with a smile plastered on your face. The clear waters mirror the starlit sky above, inviting you to explore every tranquil corner of this secluded paradise.
It isn't until you're midway across the hot spring, shoulders dipped beneath the water, that a sense of unease begins to gnaw at you.
Light.
Movement.
Noise.
With the instincts of a trained Scout, you crouch into the water. Through the shrubs, you suddenly notice a pool of yellow light, too intense and artificial to be anything natural. Strange. It bears the distinct glow of the oil lamps used by the Survey Corps. More troubling still, there's a subtle sound of splashing water.
Your gaze flicks anxiously to where your clothes lie scattered, a distance away. You didn't bring a weapon with you. Should you attempt to go back?
Before you can think further on what to do next, your peripheral catches a glimpse of pale skin.
You freeze.
In the thickening steam, rising like delicate spirals into the chilly air, it’s hard to trust your eyes. This could easily be a hallucination.
But as the figure emerges, shoulders and back surfacing smoothly from the water, the reality sets in sharply.
It's him.
Captain Levi.
The man you’ve had a crush on for as long as you remember.
The man who you were just fantasizing about.
The man who’s currently naked a short distance away from you.
Oh.
Oh no.
This is bad.
Levi is clearly out for a swim. Apparently unaware of your presence, he pauses at the edge of the spring closest to a hill. He tilts his head back, hand brushing back wet hair. He looks up at the sky, oddly peaceful.
(The altitude is so high that it almost looks like your Captain could touch stars if he wanted to.)
But then your attention is drawn inexorably to the droplets cascading down his bare chest, and the full implications of your predicament crash over you.
Sure, water conceals Levi’s lower body, but his upper body leaves little left to the imagination. The curves of his shoulders, sloping down towards well-sculpted biceps. His chest, marked with scars and lines left by ODM use. His abs, well-defined and toned—a feat you know is only possible due to his diligent training ethic.
Already, warning bells ring in your brain.
What are you doing still standing here? By some miracle, Levi hasn’t noticed you. But with his perceptive senses, it won’t be long before he does.
And when that happens, you’re in trouble. Not only are you naked and gawking, but you also have no real reason to be here.
You could try to tell him you couldn't sleep. If anyone could understand, it might be Levi. The man rarely sleeps.
But you’re not entirely sure your Captain wouldn’t see right through your deception. He's sharp like that.
That can't happen. You can't admit to him the real reason you came out here: to touch yourself while thinking of him.
You need to leave. Now.
Which is why you carefully start to back away, eyes trained on him—praying he doesn't notice you.
Unfortunately, while you miraculously slipped past Levi’s attention the first time around, your luck has run out. His focus shifts, honed like a hawk zeroing in on its prey.
Then comes his voice, slicing through the quiet of the night. “Who’s there?”
The familiar timbre sends shivers down your spine and tightens the knot between your legs.
Panic sets in.
Desperate, you dive underwater, hoping to blend into the natural shroud provided by the spring.
But Levi isn’t called Humanity’s Strongest for nothing. With instincts sharper than a knife, you see the blurred outline of his pale body trudge through the water at an alarming speed.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
Levi’s voice rumbles through the water, but the meaning of his words are drowned by the elements. Your lungs burn as you begin to swim away, the mingling bubbles and steam clouding around you, the sulfuric scent of the spring sharp in your nostrils.
You pump every ounce of strength in your frantic escape.
Then a strong hand clamps around your arm, and you're dragged upwards.
“Oi!”
Instinctively, your hand lashes out, grabbing hold as your body is yanked forward. You gasp, air filling your lungs, the cold biting at your wet skin.
Your eyes round when you realize what your hand has landed on: one of Levi’s biceps.
You glance up, eyes locking with your Captain's surprised face.
A choked sound escapes you.
“What...” He says your first name, a frown settling between his militant brows. There's a lull in the conversation, like he doesn't quite believe what he's seeing, but his barking tone soon replaces it. “What the hell are you doing?”
Moments later, his lips press together in a taut line, and his biting grip tightens. He pushes back so that you're pressed against the edge of the hot spring, where he lets you go.
You land with a splash.
At once, you attempt to cover yourself using your hands, dipping into the water so that you're almost entirely submerged. Levi looms over you, apparently not feeling discomfort from being naked before you. The water level arrives below his waist, and you can’t help but notice a trail of trimmed black hair that starts just above his navel.
You want to scream.
Your eyes fleet back up. His expression is inscrutable, but his eyes carry an intensity that you've only seen reserved for training sessions.
“You have five seconds to explain yourself,” Levi grumbles, magnetic and sharp.
“I—” you begin, only to close your mouth again.
You… what? You can’t tell Levi the truth. You would rather drown than admit to your lewd intentions.
But you also have to say something.
“—I didn’t realize you were in here,” you manage with some difficulty.
There. That's not a lie, is it? You wouldn't dare to come in here if you knew your Captain would be around.
Unfortunately, your answer doesn’t seem to satisfy him.
“And why aren’t you asleep?” he asks.
You bite the inside of your cheek, watching the steam envelop Levi’s torso. “I couldn’t sleep, sir.”
“We’ve got a long hike ahead of us tomorrow. You can’t be dead weight because you wanted to go on a midnight stroll.”
You hate this… this feeling that you are letting him down. It’s everything you strive to avoid when it comes to your Captain. You’re proud to be in his squad and you pride yourself on being the best soldier you can be.
“That won't happen, sir. I can carry my weight.” You try to sound resolute, calm and collected. You fear you may be failing. “And Captain… I find it a bit odd that you're saying all of this to me.”
“What?”
Walls. You’re treading dangerous territories.
You clear your throat, waving a hand in the air. “Didn't you say the water was unhygienic? That it reeked? That we should both go to sleep?”
"Get to the point."
"I just assumed..." you mumble, chewing at the inside of your cheeks.
"Oh, I see." Something flashes in his eyes. Torture. "You hoped you could just do as you please, that the curfew rules didn't apply to you. Hate to break off your fantasies, soldier, but that's not going to happen. I'm here and you're caught."
"Well, you also need sleep, so..." you attempt, dipping your chin away from him and into the water. Levi's eyes narrow. You clear your throat. “I’m just speaking out of concern.”
“Then don’t concern yourself.”
You grimace. You're really not doing too well with all of this, are you?
You need to turn the tide, somehow.
“I apologize, Captain. But I don’t think I’m in the wrong," you try to reason. "My track record speaks for itself: I’ve never faltered, even when running on fumes. You know I haven’t. I couldn’t sleep and this seemed like the best solution to reach that end. I wasn’t planning to stay here all night or to be a burden, sir; I just needed to clear my head before going to bed.”
You look at him again, trying to stand straighter for your words.
Levi's expression doesn't falter.
Then, he lets out a long exhale, half-turning away from you. “Look, I'm not your parent. Do as you please. But don’t come crying to me tomorrow if you're tired. You better be able to keep up. I expect nothing less of you.”
Your Captain must recognize that level-headed attitude he witnessed plenty of times out on expeditions, or he wouldn’t let you go down so easily.
Levi rubs his eyelids with the tips of his fingers. “And next time, pay better attention. There are all manners of perverts in this world. Even if this place seemed abandoned, you can never be too careful. It’s unlike you to be so careless.”
You chuckle nervously. If only Levi realized you’re the only degenerate lurking these waters.
“Right,” you answer. “Lucky it’s just you.”
As you say those words, Levi looks at you—really looks at you—and something shifts in his expression. His eyes move away from your face, casting his stern gaze over the rest of your body, as if seeing you for the first time.
His attention makes your breath stop.
“You should still be careful," he says in a low tone. "Men in the military are still men.”
You swallow loudly, a delicious sensation coiling at the bottom of your stomach. There’s something suggestive in Levi’s words, isn't there? You tell yourself that it’s just him showing his concern and that it means nothing beyond that.
“As I said, lucky it’s just you,” you repeat.
Then, Levi surprises you.
He takes a step forward, cornering you further to the edge of the spring. His stare glints like starlight.
Your heart leaps. What is he doing? Outside of training, Levi never approaches you like this.
You try to keep your cool at the sudden proximity. Knowing that just one peek down, and you’d see what lies between your Captain's legs. You briefly wonder what his cock looks like.
If it’s like the rest of him…
Stop.
You need to focus now—your Captain is speaking to you.
“And who’s saying I’m not the sort of man to take advantage of a situation like this one?”
Your breath hitches, unsure if you heard him correctly. His gray eyes linger on your bare shoulders, fixing it like his stare could pierce through them.
Is he... is he testing you?
Your eyes meet again. His pupils are dilated, yours are wide.
“I know you,” you hear yourself say, “you’re not that type of man.”
For a moment, neither of you speak. Snow continues to dust the air, melting into the warm water surrounding you both. A faint gust of wind wheezes from down the mountain.
“You have that much faith in me, do you?” Levi asks quietly.
Your eyes flit back up. Levi has dipped further down into the water. He looks... pensive, eyes fixing his rippled reflection.
The sight of him so close almost takes the air out of your lungs.
And you’re reminded of how handsome your Captain is.
In all the years you’ve known him, all you could do was admire him from a distance—trying to keep your feelings and attraction for him in check. But Levi has always been beautiful, even when you denied yourself the opportunity to think so.
Deep-set eyes that remind you of muted skies—the occasional spark of blue shining when the sun hits his face just right. A velvety undercut that you know he trims himself every other week, the rest of his shiny hair parted in the middle. Rosy lips that appear permanently pressed together—only you’ve seen it: on the rare occasions that your Captain allows himself a downtime to drink a cup of tea with his squad and friends… yeah, the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, and the world is graced with one of Levi’s rare smiles. It’s a sight that you’ve kept locked in your heart.
“Yes,” you whisper, “I do.”
Levi's eyes come smoldering back onto you. “Speak up.”
“I would follow you to the ends of the earth, Captain Levi.”
It's true.
You first agreed to join Levi’s squad because you’d seen him fly, seen the way he handled his ODM gear. You grew to respect him like no one else. You stayed because of the sort of leader Levi proved to be. He didn’t demand authority like the rest, but he exuded it all the same. He didn’t care to be Humanity’s Strongest, but he still garnered hope and made people believe in him.
“I mean it,” you add, “I’m devoted to you.”
Levi's face pinches. “Careful with your words. I don’t like thoughtless sheep.”
“That’s not what I mean. You know I’m not scared to question your orders if I disagree with them. I’m smart and I’m strong. But even so, you’re the person I followed when I joined the Scouts. I would do anything for you.”
His eyes do not blink. “Anything.”
“Anything.”
Levi swallows heavily, taking a step back.
“Don’t say shit like that," he mutters. "Anything is everything. Other people would abuse your willingness. You should be careful.”
A moment passes by. You lick your lips, already moistened by the fog. Suddenly, you recall the actual reason for being here. You’re hot, burning. Like if you don’t get the release you desire, you might just need to cool off in the snow somewhere.
It might be why you dare to say your next words.
“Do you want to abuse my willingness?” you ask.
Levi’s stare darts back to you. Before you can control it, you squeeze your thighs tightly together, finding the tension unbearable. Levi takes notice: his eyes burn up and down, mouth parted.
It's maybe Levi's stupor that makes you act next. You push yourself up on the balls of your feet, rising with an arm draped over your breasts. The water provides a somewhat decent cover over what lies below your waist, but it does nothing to stop runlets plowing down your exposed curves.
Levi’s goes still.
And you push through.
“I lied, Captain Levi,” you tell him.
His brows knit together.
“The truth is, I came out here because," you avert your gaze, "… because I needed relief.”
“Relief.”
“Yes, relief in the…," your cheeks grow warm, "physical sense, I mean.”
“You mean masturbation.”
“You’re putting it rather plainly, but sure,” you mumble. “I.. I’d still like that relief, sir.”
“Look, whatever depravity you’re up to does not concern—”
“With you. I'd like for it to be with you.”
Everything goes still after that.
Levi’s entire face is blank, as if he sucked in all his emotions. All you can hear is the light gust of wind, swallowed by the mountains.
“What..." Levi opens his mouth, then closes it shut again as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. The knot in his throat bobs in what you can only describe as the most painful seconds of your life. You swear your heartbeat must be loud enough for him to hear. "What you're suggesting. You realize that it’s against the rules.”
“I realize, sir,” you say.
“That I’m your Captain and you’re my subordinate?”
Dread settles at the bottom of your stomach. Yikes, you’re in for one of his lectures, aren’t you?
“Yes, Captain Levi.”
“That both of us could get in trouble if this gets out?”
... What?
Your eyes flit up.
Did you hear him correctly?
Levi assesses you. He takes a step forward and you shrivel back as he plants his arms on either side of your body, caging you in. He dips down into the water to come eye-level with you.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, stare never straying from yours.
You blink. Is your Captain seeking to understand your desires?
"S-sir?” you stutter.
“Tell me what you want, if you could have it,” he says.
Oh shit, he is. Your Captain is actually trying to understand what you want.
“Oh, um," you fumble with your words, heartbeat climbing up to your throat. Truthfully, you never expected to make it this far, so you feel unprepared. "Well, in my fantasies, my partner would… touch me, sir.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere. But I suppose it begins with a… kiss.”
Levi’s eyes flicker to your lips.
Oh, fuck.
"Show me."
Your eyes widen. "S-show you?"
"That's what I just said."
Now, normally, you'd be the type to overthink and overanalyze just about everything. So when your Captain says those words, beckons you closer, you stop thinking.
You do as he asks and you kiss him.
And you discover that his mouth is soft, like velvet on skin.
Then Levi leans into you—moving his lips over yours, cupping your cheeks with more vigor—and you realize that it’s truly happening. Your hands fall onto his chest bone and his heartbeat sparks under your fingertips. It's his heart. The heart he dedicated to the Survey Corps—it's yours, if only for a brief moment.
And reality crashes on you.
You’re kissing Levi Ackerman. Your Captain. Humanity's Strongest.
Holy shit.
Not wanting to waste this fleeting opportunity (because surely, this can't last), you slide your tongue further into the depths of his mouth. Levi lets out a hum of approval, and you taste him—taste the chamomile he drinks most evenings and the mint from his toothpaste.
When your eyes venture open, you find that your Captain’s steely gaze is already fixed on you, watching you through a half-lidded stare. You can see the clear blue ring around his silver irises.
It only makes you want him more.
"C-captain," you say through the kiss.
Levi breaks apart briefly. “Tell me.”
You take his hand and guide it to your chest.
“T-touch me here. Please.”
Levi acquiesces, gripping the bud of your nipple between two fingers and pinching, hard.
Pleasure ripples through your body, making you whimper in place.
At that moment, you can only imagine what you look like—flushed, pliant and pleading for more. You’ve never shown this side of yourself to him before; you wonder if it repulses him.
Wrong, utterly wrong. The opposite seems to be true, in fact; your Captain seems to delight himself with this facet you are revealing.
“Desperate, are we?” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, tone dripping with a husky sense of satisfaction.
Before you can answer to his teasing, his mouth moves over your neck, while his hands continue to caress your breasts. The contrast of temperatures is so stark—the hot spring so warm, his skin so cold—that it makes you audibly gasp.
Your hands slide up towards his nape, and you brush the brittle undercut and twist, tugging him closer.
That’s when you feel it… the hardness—his hardness, pressing against your plump flesh.
At the contact, the Captain groans against your throat, biting down without restraint. You whimper, attempting to push back, but Levi's teeth don't let go.
"Quit squirming," he mutters.
Your warm breath clouds the air. “C-captain, please.”
“Mm?”
"Please touch me. I can’t bear to wait anymore.”
In response, Levi slides his free hand to tug at your hair. He pulls on your locks, exposing the side of your neck for him to ravish, nibbling from the tip of your ear to your collarbone.
“Don't you know that all good things come to those who wait?” he says.
Vindictive that your Captain is depriving you of what you’ve asked, you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. You roll your hips forward, grinding against him, a fleeting attempt to make him just as desperate at you are.
Levi hisses as your soft curves plow against his erection. “You little minx.”
He pulls you back to shoot you a glare. Dangerous move, his eyes convey. And yet, it also gives you a glimpse into his state and, oh... interesting. You aren’t the only one who’s flustered, you realize—rosiness dusts his cheeks and his pupils are wide-shot black.
Your lips quirk into a playful smile.
Levi shrugs with one arm, looking away. “Be patient, will you?” His voice is hoarse. “I’m not someone who does things half-way.”
You roll your eyes. “Uh-huh. Believe me, I’ve noticed.”
Levi lets out a grunt that’s so decidedly him.
Suddenly, Levi completely lets go and your body drops into the water. You frown. One of Levi's lids twitches.
“What are you doing?” you ask.
“Teaching you some patience. Wait here and stay put."
"But, you said—“
“—that's an order.”
You close your mouth, shivering at the commanding tone in his voice. You aren't sure how you'll be able to go back from this after tonight—listening to his orders on the battlefield is going to be a nightmare.
Nonetheless, you do as he says, watching as he swims offshore where the oil lamp is placed.
And the whole situation hits you like bricks.
Holy shit.
You just kissed Captain Levi. And you're about to do more with him.
Why exactly is it happening now, of all times, you wonder? Why is your Captain allowing this?
In all the years you’ve been working alongside the Captain, you always thought your crush had gone unnoticed, or if Levi knew, that he had ignored it altogether.
Your observations are cut short as Levi comes back, holding up his towel and his green cloak above the water's surface.
You raise a questioning brow.
“I’m not touching you in this water, natural spring or not.” Your Captain unfolds the towel as he places it neatly over the smooth edge of the hot spring that's snow-free, casting the cloak behind. He shifts his blank stare on you, and taps on the ground with one hand. “Sit.”
You gulp, self-conscious at the idea of exposing yourself like this. Sure, it’s nighttime, and sure, the steam obscures the air, but he’s demanding a level of vulnerability that you hardly give out.
Levi picks up on your hesitation in a flash of a moment, reading you like a book. “You can still back away from this, you know.”
“I… no. No, I want this.” And you do—the way your core pulsates even now should be a telltale sign of just how much you want this. “I really want this.”
“Then what? You’re never uncertain during expeditions.”
“That’s because I know my shit out there. It’s not that easy with you. This is scary.”
Levi scoffs. “You think I’m scarier than a titan?”
“Of course not. But I overthink.”
Levi traps your chin between two fingers, tilting your head so you’re forced to look at him. “Then don’t think.”
You falter, mouth parting. Levi skims a thumb over your lower lip. The sudden gentleness behind his words, combined with his actions, makes you falter.
“Okay,” you find yourself whispering back.
“Okay, what?”
You meet his stare head-on. His eyes are no longer a muted silver, but turning towards a stormy gray. They demand an answer.
And you have just the thing to give him.
“Please help me not to think, Captain.”
Levi lets out a long hum as he slides closer. There, he takes the time to kiss your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your neck, all the while his hands create a path down your body, exploring for the first time.
“Is that what you want?” he asks in a low tone. “For me to help you stop thinking?”
“Y-yes." You swallow loudly. "You have complete control. Do whatever you want to me, just... get me there.”
In one movement, Levi plucks you off the ground, his hands gripping your ass as if you weighed nothing at all. You squirm in his grip, clutching his back for support as your wet flesh slides against his own. He then carefully places you onto the towel so that you're sitting on the edge of the hot spring, your calves dipping into the water. The rocks under you are smooth, and you now tower over him.
Levi takes a step back to admire you, his eyes roving over every facet of your body, tracing your curves with meticulous care.
It makes you squirm in place. “Captain…”
“Levi,” he answers without missing a beat, engrossed in admiring your body. He parts your legs as he anchors himself in between them, where he draws circles along your rib cage, thumb slotting along every dip.
“Huh?”
His silver eyes look up to you, a fire in them that wasn’t there before.
“We’re not here as soldiers, so. Just call me Levi,” he says.
One hand nestles along the flesh of your waist while you tremble in his arms. Levi angles your head sideways with his other palm, siphoning your neck with kisses before finding a sensitive spot that makes you gasp.
“Alright… ah, Levi,” you say with some difficulty. It feels strange to call your Captain so informally, but there’s something arousing about it too.
"And if I do anything that displeases you or that feels too much, just so."
"Say what?"
He pulls back for a moment. "I don't know, pick something."
"Anything?"
He nods.
You think about it for a moment when the idea hits you. "Okay... Green, red. Formation colors."
Levi scoffs. "Titan formations."
"You said to pick, so I picked. Still a soldier through and through, right?"
"Whatever you say."
Levi’s hand trails to your chest, moving to cup one of your breasts between his nimble digits. His thumbs toy with it while his tongue finds its place along the valley of your second breast.
His hot breath drifts against the tip of your hardened tit, “I'm gonna go down on you.”
Before you can answer, Levi flicks the bud of your nipples with his teeth, swirling his tongue in circles that sparks pleasure everywhere—leaving you to moan and hold onto his set of hair.
Your words tumble mid-breath. “Are you s-sure?”
Levi’s stare lock with yours, his lips still sealed to your breast. He pulls away with a pop, a thread of saliva connecting between his mouth and your nipple.
The sight makes you want to scream.
“Have I ever said anything I didn’t mean?” he asks.
A shiver runs down your spine.
“No… I guess not. I… fuck, okay, yes. Go down on me, Levi. Green, so fucking green.”
Levi takes a step back, using your name to usher you into execution. “On your back, then, and put my cloak on. You’re not catching a fucking cold from this.”
I don’t think I’ll be getting cold with what's ahead, you think to yourself.
Nonetheless, you comply with his orders. You slide his cloak over your shoulders and prop your elbows down. Before you can blink, Levi pulls you towards him by the grip of your thighs, causing your back to lie flush with the ground. You glance at him, bewildered.
Levi has wrapped his hands around the meat of your legs, parting them to have full access. There's a wild glint to his eyes, like what you have between your legs is making him lose himself. Before you can blink, Levi begins to heed kisses on the inner parts of your legs, his touch slow and treacherous. It makes your hips buck, twitching beneath him.
“Sensitive, are we?” Levi tuts, his warm breath tickling your skin.
Any clever answer you might have given him is snuffed out as his warm breath falls on your sex. His hot tongue dips into your folds, something almost wicked in the way he rams in. You jerk up, calves sliding out of the water to wrap themselves around his neck.
You shoot up to grab a fistful of his hair.
But Levi stops you in your tracks. He pulls back, gathering your wrists in one hand. “Stay put. You can look but you can’t touch.”
And with that, he flings your wrists to your stomach, clinging onto you as his other hand pins one leg down. Then, he relishes in the wetness between your legs, slowing down in a manner that’s oh so sensual.
That wicked little man.
“Captain,” you complain, trembling beneath his touch. You can’t take it anymore—not being able to move, being held down as he unravels you, and now he teases you with his tongue?
It’s too much and at the same, it's not enough.
In response, Levi doubles down on his efforts.
“S-s-shit,” you breathe out, your mind going into overdrive from being pinned like this.
You knew of Levi’s strength, of course. Everyone within the Walls knows about Humanity’s Strongest. You’ve even had the privilege to witness it firsthand on expeditions.
But seeing it used in his lovemaking, well… it's something else entirely.
“You fucking tease. You're doing it on purpose, aren't you?” you mutter.
His voice hums against your sex. “And what if I am?”
That’s when Levi hits your spot, tenderly sucking on your clit in a way that makes you heave. This time, you can’t help but release a louder moan, hips arching up to meet his lips.
But just as you're about to reach that bliss you've craved all along, Levi pulls away.
You're left cold. Aching.
You tilt your head to gape at him. Levi’s mouth glistens with your slickness, but it does nothing to quell down your frustration.
What the hell is he doing?
You’re about to mouth him off when his expression shifts, stormy eyes narrowing.
“Patience,” he grits out.
It’s painful, the way he just delayed your orgasm. In the absence of his touch, your core throbs, begging for some kind of release.
So despite him being your superior, you can’t help but let out disgruntled words, “I don’t like being delayed, sir.”
Levi scoffs as his hands travel back onto your dampened skin. “I always knew you’d get bossy in bed.”
Your brows raise, wondering if you heard him correctly. Does this mean your Captain has thought about you… in bed?
Before you can ask, Levi moves on, dipping back into the task at hand. He shoves your legs apart, pinning you in place with an iron grip. His other hand trails over your damp inner thigh, positioning one finger at the entrance of your vagina, a digit sliding in. You feel your walls clench around his finger, pleasure ebbing through you as he discovers that magic spot that makes your toes curl.
“Perfect fucking cunt,” Levi slurs against you, cheek pressed against your shaking leg as he glides his deft finger with steady movements, mouth nuzzling closer to your silky clit.
You whimper at his praises, hips bulking up to chase his tongue. You try to keep quiet, but the more your Captain learns where to hit your points of pleasure, the more you think you may not maintain this charade for very long.
You realize that the way he delayed your orgasm has made the buildup now so much more intense. Your muscles tense, like a spring about to let loose.
So the relief that comes from Levi’s mouth wrapping against your clit again brings tears in your eyes. Pleasure seeps in. You try to grind against him to chase it even faster, but Levi remains unwilling to allow you to assert your dominance here—he keeps you pinned, keeping complete control, like he said he would.
More—you need more.
“Please, Captain. Please, please, please.”
In response, Levi doubles down on his efforts. It's as if all he needed was to hear you plead to give you exactly what you want. His digit rams into you, the pad of his thumb moving to tease you while his tongue flicks your clit with increased fervency.
Your heart drums quicker than a horse’s canter.
“… shit, shit, shit,” you choke.
When you open your eyes again, you find that Levi’s face is locked on you already—his compact muscles tense, his usual steel-eyes now a smoky haze. If only you knew what this is doing to him. His mouth seals on your bundle of nerves with a groan, his digit curling to rub your g-spot, thrusting with well-timed movements.
And then, he hits the point you were begging to be touched all along, groaning into your folds…
Right.
There.
The coil splits and your climax flares.
Your mouth opens to release a silent scream, skull rolling back as tiny warm tingles swim through your body.
Holy hell.
Levi stays with you through the orgasm, riding the bliss with you. He takes in the sight of you coming undone for him—learning from it, committing it in his memory.
Legs shaking, you don’t even register Levi tending to you as you come down. He licks your wetness pulsating in his mouth, enraptured in the taste of it as he takes it all in. With meticulous dexterity, he slides his coated fingers into his mouth, watching you as he goes about it.
“Oh, f-fuck,” you stutter out.
In response, Levi only continues to pepper kisses over your trembling legs. A madman, you think.
After a moment, Levi’s touch slides away. The sound of water sloshing as he pushes himself out of the hot spring.
Your head lulls sideways to admire him.
Levi’s neck is flushed—whether from the stream or from going down on you, it’s hard to tell—but it’s about the most bewitching sight you’ve ever seen. He sinks to his knees, like a religious man kneels before the Three Goddesses, and your breath falters as you catch sight of his erection.
He’s hard, tip flushed red. A trail of black hair paves down from his navel to his erection, while the rest of his body glistens under the moonlight. Sinewy muscles and tendons, locked together—years of relentless training and surviving on display.
The sight of it makes it impossible to think.
“Captain Levi,” you say with some urgency.
“Mm?”
“I’m gonna need you inside me. Now.”
“Are you ordering me around?” There's slight derision in his voice, twisting your insides.
“Yes,” you lick your lip, eyes locking with his, “that’s right, I’m ordering you.”
Levi huffs, forearms flexing as he crawls towards you—slowly, like a predator does its prey. With his body still warm from the hot spring, it creates a fog around him, his pale skin gleaming like gossamer.
Levi's voice remains steady, eyes impassive, but there's a hint of something in his eyes that tells you he enjoys being spoken back to.
“Someone thinks highly of herself, ordering her Captain around,” he chastises.
“Said Captain has yet to say no.”
“And why would I refuse you?”
At that, your Captain captures your lips. Your savor the way his body molds into yours, tasting your muskiness on his tongue. A wonderful sensation overwhelms you then—knowing you allowed your body to succumb to his touches, knowing he wanted to taste you in this manner.
As he breaks away the kiss, you can't help but continue to ask for more.
“Sir…”
Levi tugs at your waist, sliding you back down with force. “What did I say about calling me by my name?”
He looms over you, his bangs dusting his face. Your lips twitch into a coy smile, sliding your fingers into his slick hair. It's so soft.
“And what if I want to call you by your title?” you ask.
“Oh, is that how it is?” Despite the neutral tone in his voice, there’s something dark in his stare, heightened by pink cheeks and red ears. He strokes the ball of your shoulder with his thumb. “You’re one of those people who gets off on authority, huh?”
You grip his arms, turning your head away. Levi rubs his cock over your clit, teasing you and spreading your wetness. You mewl.
“You're lucky I'm feeling generous,” Levi says in your ear. “You better use it well."
Your breath catches in your chest as the tip of his length enters you. His warm hands skim over the flesh of your body, letting you slowly adjust to him, cradling you.
“That will all depend on you, Captain Levi,” you manage to pant out, letting the l sound roll of your tongue.
He grates out your name. “So fucking mouthy.”
“Well, I learned from the best, sir.”
Levi’s stare locks onto you, gazing at you like he was in a trance. His Adam's apple bobs. He almost looks vulnerable for a split moment.
“You've watched me, have you?” he says in a low tone.
Your cheeks warm at the suggestion in Levi’s words, mouth parting to contest when you feel his forefinger run along your lower lash line. Your eyes meet his piercing gaze.
He leans close, mouth hovering close to yours.
“I've watched you too,” he confesses.
And then, Levi slams into you.
Your cry mixes in with Levi's groan. Reaching blindly for something to hold on to, wanting—needing—him to understand just what he’s doing to you, you settle on clawing at his back. Levi’s thrusts are treacherous—painfully slow at first, pounding with full intensity.
The way of a man trying to ruin you.
“Holy s-shit,” you breathe, puffs of white clouding the air.
Levi holds you close as his hips roll forward to settle on a cadence that matches your vices, his flushed cheeks pressing against yours. You hook your fingers, grinding into his touch—your mind edging towards complete absolution.
“F-fuck,” he mutters, voice decadent. "You're so. Perfect.”
His words cause something delicious to swirl within you.
Levi slings an arm around your back, the other hooking up one knee to position himself deeper, slipping out and back into your wanting heat. You watch as his lips press together like he were trying to contain back a moan, but it’s obscured by your vision blurring at the sensation of his length stretching you out.
With one traitorous jerk, your walls throb in pleasure, eyes brimming with tears as you stare at Levi’s pale skin and the snow mingling together. Your nails scratch his hips, leaving red marks on his soft, plush skin.
“Levi,” you plead.
Levi, what? You aren’t sure what you’re calling out to him for. You’re too forgone, too dizzy, to notice you used his first name, let alone find the words to finish that thought.
His back muscles go taut under your fingertips, his spine moving in accordion with the rolling of his hips.
More.
More.
More.
“Captain, please, please—.”
“Be patient,” he grits out. His tousled hair clings over his forehead, lips parting as your bodies merge into one. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”
Suddenly, he pulls out of you and flips you over so that you’re on all four. He angles your waist up, one hand pinning your neck down, the other holding onto your hair, as he slides back in..
Then Levi moves down on you and bites your right shoulder—hard. Pleasures ripples through your body, feeling his mark on your skin.
"Color?" he asks, voice shaking.
"Ngh... green, so fucking green." You whimper, nails scratching at the soil. “Do it again."
And Levi only delivers, his bite turning to something strong enough to bruise as he thrusts into you.
You wonder what Levi looks like up there, gripping at your waist while the rest of your body curves face down. You wish you could frame a picture for yourself to stow away.
If you could see your Captain, you’d see that his eyes are trained on the sight of your naked body glistening with sweat. You’d catch him fixing his cock getting lost inside of you, your walls clamping around him. You’d see the way his eyes marvel at your curves—how your body blends with valleys of snow over the horizon. You'd see the blush spreading from his neck to his ears, burning the way you are.
A state of euphoria.
“F-f-fuck. I can't get enough of you,” you hear him confess.
Can’t get enough of you? Are you hearing him correctly? Since when does your Captain speak like that?
Still, his words seem to ignite something inside you, emboldened to see more of this side your Captain is revealing.
“Tell me,” you murmur, pleasuring building and building.
His answer doesn’t miss a beat, straightening up to pound into you harder. “You drive me crazy.”
Levi’s fingers dig into your flesh, something needy, something bruising, about his grip.
“Yeah? Then let me let you in on something, Levi… Captain, ah,” you mutter, eyes fluttering as he continues to fill you up. “The reason I came out here in the first place was because… ngh, I wanted to imagine your fingers touching me. Wanted to imagine it was you fingering me.”
“F-fuck,” Levi hisses.
He grips your hips with full-blooded vigor, siphoning into you with a quickened pace.
“Captain, I—”
But your words die out when three fingers find a place on your swollen clit. Your brain short-circuits.
Your orgasm splinters into the night.
You go boneless, sagging into pure bliss, while Levi continues to thrust into you. Feeling your walls clench so tightly, creaming his length, he follows soon after—the rushing heat of his climax answers your own, his pulsing cock engulfed by your heat.
And your brain? Your brain is numb.
For a moment, all the two of you can do is pant and attempt to regain your senses. One of Levi’s hand rests on the small of your back, while you slowly uncurl your fingers from the ground.
Eventually, Levi slides out of you. He uses the towel to help you clean up. You watch him go about it, mind still delirious, something almost coy about the way he handles the aftercare of your lovemaking.
When all is said and done, a comfortable silence fills the air.
It’s now well past twilight, and both of you only have a precious few hours before you’re back on the road.
Neither of you are particularly tired. You let your sore body slide back into the warm water with your Captain by your side. You watch the mountains slope down, elbows perked on the edge of the hot spring, basking in the utter peace that comes from this sort of silence.
You lean a cheek on your propped hand to watch him. A light breeze tousles Levi’s black hair, faint snow dusting the air. You count the scars twined on his torso, wondering about the story behind each one.
Maybe one day, your Captain might open up about each of them.
"Did it work?" Levi interrupts the trembling silence, watching as you draw circles over the smooth edge of the hot spring.
Your eyes circle around to meet his cloudy stare.
You raise a brow. "Did what work?"
"Did you stop thinking?"
You snort, recalling your pleading request. "Yeah. I stopped thinking. And... thank you, by the way."
Levi hums. There's another lull in the conversation, filled with comfortable silence.
“I guess I don’t need to tell you that this should remain between us,” he says.
That makes you roll your eyes. “Aw, you wound me, Captain. Here I was hoping to gossip with everyone about the way you like to eat people out.”
Levi shoots you an unimpressed look.
“I’m not stupid, Levi,” you add.
Levi clicks his tongue. “No, just too fucking ballsy. Never knew your mouth ran so wild.”
You smirk. “Well, sorry to say, sir, but you’ve not seen half of what my mouth can do.”
You swear a a rosy hue dusts the ridge of his nose. “You're a shameless thing, you know that?”
You laugh, tilting your head sideways. “I told you. I know what I want.”
“Clearly,” he remarks, eying you. “And you’ve wanted this for a while.”
Despite having just had his face buried between your legs, you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed at that comment and the confession it demands of you.
“Never said that,” you dismiss.
“No? What were your exact words? That you—”
“Don’t repeat what I said!” you hiss, glaring at him. “It was in the heat of the moment. You can’t hold it against me.”
Levi grunts in an amused way, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, unsure how he might use this knowledge. You didn't think about any of it before, but where do you go from here?
Levi gives you that answer seconds later. He raises a hand to your face, tugging a strand behind your ear and swirling his thumb over your jaw.
“Well, next time you dream of my fingers, just come to me,” he says simply.
There’s an intensity in his gray eyes that wasn’t there before.
You go still.
Next time?
Is that a promise?
His thumb presses over your neck, feeling you gulp against his fingertip. Your stomach contracts in anticipation.
Oh, it is a promise.
You could get used to this new side of your Captain.
And then Levi retreats, eyes never wavering from yours, and bobs his head towards the chalet.
“Now to the shower, we’re not reeking come morning.”
“But—”
“That’s an order, soldier.”
You sigh.
There’s the Captain you’ve grown to like so much.
— Masterlist / Join my taglist / Spotify Playlist that inspired this fic
Heart divider by saradika-graphics - the rest is by me ~
Taglist: @l3visthighs, @bejewelledd, @nube55, @thephantomtheory, @levilxvr, @halloweenmedic, @notgoodforlife, @sixpennydame, @youre-ackermine, @starrylevi, @loyal2rin, @levistealeaf, @queen0sharena, @levisecretgfblog, @bitchymanlet
#users on my taglist - sorry for tagging you all so late tumblr was bugging on me#levi fanfiction#levi x reader#levi ackerman#aot levi#levi x oc#levi x y/n#levi x you#attack on titan fanfiction#attack on titan#levi ackerman x reader#captain levi#ao3 fanfic#levi smut#levi ackerman smut#flo's fanfics#flo's oneshots#n.sfw
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(Since you were asking for a thirst HAHDNDJDNDSN)
My man (Fukuzawa) has few smut here in tumblr, he needs justice.
And I needed to be manhandled by that fine dilf.
— 🌊🪷
crucible // fukuzawa yukichi
tw ⇢ jealous!fukuzawa, possessive!fukuzawa, so much sexual tension, fukuzawa in denial, making out, teasing, office sex, sir kink cx its fukuzawa, rough sex, manhandling ofc, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, creampie, dirty talk, spanking
wc ⇢ 5.2k
a/n: anon, you just reawakened my love for fictional characters nearly twice my age
The oppressive August heat blanketed Yokohama, the air heavy and thick, clinging to your skin like a damp cloth. In the offices of the Armed Detective Agency, the ancient air conditioner wheezed and rattled, providing little relief from the sweltering temperatures. Beads of sweat gathered at your brow and trickled down the back of your neck as you sat at your desk, trying to focus on the stack of case files in front of you.
But your mind kept drifting, your thoughts inevitably drawn to the Agency's distinguished leader, Yukichi Fukuzawa. From the moment you'd started working here, you'd been captivated by him - his sophisticated air, his commanding presence, the way his steely gaze seemed to pierce right through you. It was more than just physical attraction, though that was certainly part of it. There was something about him, an aura of power and control, that drew you like a moth to a flame.
You knew it was risky, knew that getting involved with your boss was a recipe for disaster. But you couldn't help yourself. Every interaction with him left you wanting more, your skin buzzing with a kind of electric anticipation.
It started small, innocently enough. A smile that lingered just a beat too long, a brush of fingers as you handed him a file. But as the months went by, you grew bolder, more overt in your flirtations.
Each morning, you greeted Fukuzawa with a smile that bordered on coy, your voice low and honeyed. "Good morning, sir," you'd purr, leaning in just a little too close as you handed him his daily schedule. The subtle widening of his eyes, the almost imperceptible hitch in his breath, was all the encouragement you needed.
You started putting more effort into your appearance, choosing blouses that hugged your curves, skirts that fell just an inch shorter than was strictly professional. You told yourself it wasn't for him, that you just wanted to feel good about yourself. But deep down, you knew the truth. You wanted him to notice you, to feel the weight of his gaze on your skin.
And notice he did. You'd catch him watching you as you moved around the office, his eyes following the sway of your hips, lingering on the exposed slice of skin at your throat. His face would remain impassive, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers would tighten around his pen.
It became a kind of game, a forbidden dance of push and pull. You'd lean over his desk to point out a detail in a report, letting your blouse gape open just enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. You'd brush past him in the hallway, your hand grazing his arm, letting the contact linger a moment longer than necessary.
Each small victory sent a thrill through you, a heady rush of power. You were getting to him, chipping away at that legendary self-control. It was only a matter of time before he snapped.
But it wasn't enough. The more you got, the more you wanted. Stolen glances and fleeting touches only fanned the flames of your desire, leaving you aching and restless. You found yourself daydreaming during the long, humid afternoons, your mind conjuring up vivid fantasies of Fukuzawa's hands on your body, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin. You'd imagine him bending you over his desk, his fingers digging into your hips as he finally fucked you, claiming you as his own.
The fantasies were so real, so visceral, that you'd often snap out of them flushed and breathless, your heart racing and your pussy throbbing with need. You'd clench your thighs together, trying to quell the ache, but it was never enough. You wanted him, needed him, with an intensity that frightened and exhilarated you in equal measure.
And so, you started pushing harder, growing bolder in your advances. Determined to shatter his iron self-control, to make him admit that he wanted you just as desperately as you wanted him.
You began openly flirting with the other men in the office, particularly Atsushi, the youngest and most naive of the bunch. You'd perch on the edge of his desk, leaning in close as you pointed out details in case files, letting your breasts brush against his arm. You'd laugh just a little too loudly at his jokes, tossing your hair over your shoulder and fixing him with a dazzling smile.
And all the while, you'd feel Fukuzawa's gaze burning into your back, his eyes tracking your every move. You'd see his jaw clench, his fist tighten at his side, and a dark thrill would course through you. He was jealous, you could tell. The knowledge was intoxicating.
Late one sweltering evening, as you were leaving the office, you suddenly felt Fukuzawa's hand close around your wrist. Before you could respond, he was guiding you into his office and shutting the door behind you. Your heart raced at his proximity, the air practically crackling between you.
"Your behavior has been quite inappropriate," he said in a low voice, his eyes boring into yours. "If you continue this way, there will be consequences."
His gaze drifted to your lips and for a wild, breathless moment, you were sure he was going to kiss you. But then he released you and took a measured step back, leaving you dizzy and aching for more.
In the days that followed, the memory of that charged moment in Fukuzawa's office lingered, a constant distraction. Your skin prickled with awareness whenever he was near, your body attuned to his presence like a tuning fork. You tried to focus on your work, but your mind kept conjuring up the phantom sensation of his fingers wrapped around your wrist, the heat of his gaze on your mouth.
You dialed back on your flirtations with the other men, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop teasing Fukuzawa. If anything, you became bolder, more overt in your intentions. You started staying late at the office, finding excuses to be alone with him. In the evenings, when the rest of the staff had gone home, you'd slip into his office with flimsy pretexts, perching on the edge of his desk and leaning in close as you spoke.
During one such encounter, emboldened by the late hour and the intimacy of the dimly lit room, you placed your hand over his as you pointed out a detail in a case file. Fukuzawa stilled, his eyes flickering to yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his hand over beneath yours, his palm hot against your own.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he said quietly, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. His fingers curled around yours, just for a moment, before he drew away.
You knew he was right, knew that you were both wading into treacherous waters. But you were too far gone to turn back now, too intoxicated by the simmering tension that coiled between you.
As the summer heat rose, so did the stakes of your forbidden dance. Stolen glances turned into fleeting caresses, plausible deniability becoming paper-thin. The air grew heavy with unspoken desire, with the tantalizing promise of what could be.
And then, one storm-dark night, the levee finally broke.
You were working late again, poring over witness statements, when the power suddenly cut out. The office was plunged into darkness, the only illumination coming from the occasional flash of lightning outside the rain-lashed windows. You heard Fukuzawa's office door open, heard his measured footsteps approaching.
"The whole block is out," he said, his tall silhouette appearing in your doorway. "We might as well call it a night."
You nodded, your tongue suddenly feeling too thick for your mouth. A strange anticipation crackled through you as you gathered your things by feel, every nerve ending alight. You startled when you felt Fukuzawa's hand on the small of your back, guiding you out into the pitch-black hallway.
In the darkness, every sensation was magnified. The sound of your breathing, the warm press of his palm against your spine, the electric awareness of his body mere inches from yours. Your heart was beating so loudly, you were certain he must hear it.
And then, between one step and the next, Fukuzawa halted. His hand slid slowly up your back, his fingers curling around your nape. You turned to face him, dizzy with want, scarcely daring to breathe.
For a long, suspended moment, you hovered there in the charged darkness. The air felt thick, weighted with expectation. You could just make out the gleam of Fukuzawa's eyes, could feel the tension emanating from him in waves.
"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice rough as gravel, "and I will."
But you didn't want him to stop. You wanted him to keep going, to finally unleash the pent-up hunger that had been consuming you for months. Throwing caution to the wind, you closed the last breath of distance between you and captured his lips with your own...
Heart pounding, you melted into Fukuzawa's embrace, your lips moving feverishly against his. His mouth was hot and insistent, his strong hands gripping your hips as he backed you up against the wall. You gasped as your back hit the cool surface, the contrast with your overheated skin sending sparks rushing through you.
Fukuzawa took advantage of your parted lips, deepening the kiss with a low groan that reverberated through your body. You clung to his broad shoulders, dizzy with sensation, your head spinning with the headiness of finally, finally having him exactly where you'd wanted him for so long.
His hands roamed your curves possessively, setting you alight even through the barrier of your clothing. His hands slid up your thighs, under your skirt, his fingers digging into your flesh. Dimly, you registered the rasp of his stubble against your skin, the throaty sounds of desire he made as he kissed you senseless. It was better than anything you had imagined, the reality of him overwhelming your every sense.
Lost in a haze of lust, it took you a moment to realize that Fukuzawa had suddenly stilled. His lips broke away from yours and he drew back slightly, his breath coming harsh and fast. Confusion cut through the fog of your arousal as he grasped your shoulders and gently but firmly set you away from him.
"We can't do this," he said, his voice strained. Even in the darkness, you could see the conflict etched on his face. "It's not right."
"What?" you managed, your kiss-bruised lips still tingling, your body thrumming with need. "But I thought-"
"This is a mistake," Fukuzawa cut you off, running a hand distractedly through his hair. "I'm your superior. I have a responsibility to maintain professional boundaries. No matter how much I..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. This ends now, before it goes any further."
You felt like he'd doused you in ice water, shock and hurt warring within you. You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. Your throat felt tight, your eyes stinging with the sudden threat of tears.
Fukuzawa exhaled heavily, his expression pained. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have let it get this far. It won't happen again."
And with that, he turned and strode away, leaving you alone in the dark hallway, your lips still swollen from his kisses, your heart in shreds at your feet. You hugged your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling chilled despite the muggy heat.
The storm raged on outside, rain lashing against the windows, wind rattling the panes. But it was nothing compared to the tempest inside you - a maelstrom of frustration, rejection, and an ache so sharp it stole your breath.
How were you supposed to face him after this, knowing how good it could be between you, only to have it snatched away? How could you just forget the searing press of his mouth, the urgency of his touch?
Somehow, you'd have to find a way to lock down your treacherous heart, to bury your desire so deep that even you couldn't feel it anymore. The alternative - pining for a man you couldn't have, burning for his forbidden touch - was unthinkable.
But as you finally turned to leave, your legs unsteady beneath you, you couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't over. That the undeniable pull between you and Fukuzawa was too powerful to be extinguished by duty or propriety.
One way or another, you knew you'd end up back in his arms. It was only a matter of time.
In the days following your heated encounter with Fukuzawa in the darkened office, you couldn't stop thinking about the electrifying feel of his lips on yours, the urgent press of his body against your own. The memory seared through you at the most inopportune moments, leaving you aching and distracted.
Though a part of you knew you should heed Fukuzawa's words and maintain a professional distance, you found yourself incapable of letting go. If anything, his rejection only fanned the flames of your desire, your need to prove yourself irresistible. You became utterly determined to shatter his iron self-control.
You began putting extra effort into your appearance each morning, choosing outfits that clung to your curves, leaving tantalizing slices of skin bare. You made sure to bend over just so when placing documents on his desk, relishing the way his eyes would follow the lines of your body before he caught himself.
In meetings, you started openly staring at him, your gaze heated and unwavering. You'd trace your lower lip with the tip of your pen, gratified to see his eyes dart to your mouth, his fingers tightening imperceptibly on his pen. Under the guise of friendly touches, you'd graze your fingers along his arm or shoulder, feeling the way he'd tense at the contact.
But you didn't limit your newfound boldness to Fukuzawa. You dialed your flirtations up with all the men in the office. You'd perch on the edge of their desks, crossing your legs so your skirt rode up just a little too high. You'd casually touch their hands or face while laughing at their jokes, tossing your hair over your shoulder coquettishly.
All the while, you could feel the weight of Fukuzawa's stare boring into you, his jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with a potent mix of disapproval and barely suppressed jealousy. You reveled in his attention, positive reinforcement for your provocative behavior.
Late one night, as you were once again working overtime, you decided to up the ante. Slipping out of your heels, you padded silently to Fukuzawa's office, easing the door open without knocking. He glanced up sharply from his paperwork, his eyes widening when he saw you leaning against the door frame.
You smiled, slow and feline, stalking towards Fukuzawa's desk with deliberate sways of your hips. Each step seemed to echo in the charged silence of the dimly lit office. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken desire and anticipation. You could feel Fukuzawa's gaze on you, tracking your every movement with an intensity that made your skin prickle with heat.
As you reached his desk, you placed your palms flat on the polished wood, leaning forward slightly. The action caused your blouse to gape open just a little, offering a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. You heard Fukuzawa's sharp intake of breath, saw his eyes flicker down for the briefest of moments before he wrenched them back up to your face.
"What are you doing here so late?" he asked, his voice carefully controlled.
"I thought you could use some company," you purred, your voice low and sultry. "And I had a few...questions about the case."
Fukuzawa's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. His hands, resting on the desk, curled into fists as if he was physically restraining himself from reaching for you. "It's late," he said, his tone carefully measured, but you could hear the undercurrent of strain beneath the words. "Any questions can wait until morning."
Undeterred by his dismissal, you circled around the desk, trailing your fingertips along the smooth surface. Fukuzawa watched you warily, his body tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. When you reached his side, you perched yourself on the edge of the desk, crossing your legs slowly, deliberately. The hem of your skirt rode up, revealing a tantalizing expanse of thigh, the lacy edge of your stockings just peeking out.
Fukuzawa's gaze followed the movement, his eyes darkening with barely suppressed hunger. His hands clenched on the armrests of his chair, the leather creaking under the force of his grip. You could practically feel the heat radiating off him, the air between your bodies crackling with electricity.
Emboldened by his reaction, you leaned in closer, placing your hand on his thigh. His muscles tensed beneath your touch, his breath hitching almost imperceptibly. "But I want your input now, boss," you breathed, your lips just inches from his ear. "I'm sure we can find a way to...stimulate some insights."
For a long, suspended moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was the ragged tempo of your breathing, the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears. Fukuzawa seemed frozen, torn between the compulsion to maintain his professionalism and the undeniable pull of his desire. You could see the conflicting emotions warring in his eyes, the desperate struggle for control.
Then, in a sudden flurry of movement, Fukuzawa surged to his feet. His chair clattered backwards, forgotten, as he gripped you by the upper arms, hauling you up with him. Before you could even gasp, he had spun you around, pressing you up against the wall with the solid heat of his body.
Your breath left you in a rush as your back hit the hard surface, your chest heaving against his. Fukuzawa's hands slid down to your wrists, pinning them beside your head as he loomed over you, his face inches from yours. His eyes were wild, almost black in the low light, boring into you with an intensity that made you tremble.
"You just can't leave well enough alone, can you?" he rasped, his voice rough and gravelly with barely leashed hunger. "You're determined to drive me to madness."
Your lips parted, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but it dissolved into a soft moan as Fukuzawa ducked his head, his mouth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. A shudder rippled through you at the contact, heat pooling low in your belly. You arched into him instinctively, craving more, desperate for the feel of his hands, his lips on your body.
"I only want to drive you to honesty," you managed to gasp out, your fingers threading through his silver hair, holding him to you. "Admit it - you want me as badly as I want you."
Fukuzawa groaned against your throat, the sound vibrating through you like a tuning fork. His grip on your wrists tightened reflexively as he fought for control, his breath coming in harsh pants against your skin. "We shouldn't," he ground out, even as his hips pressed more insistently into yours, betraying the depth of his need. "It's wrong. But..."
You writhed against him, desperate for more friction, more contact. "But what?" you prompted breathlessly, already knowing the answer but needing to hear him say it.
Fukuzawa raised his head, his eyes locking with yours. In their depths, you saw the last vestiges of his resistance crumble, the iron bands of his control shattering like spun glass. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough, weighted with promise and dark, delicious threat.
"But...I can no longer stand by while you openly flaunt yourself at every available man in this office," he growled, his gaze dropping hungrily to your parted lips as if he was resisting the urge to claim them with his own. "No more games, no more teasing. You're mine, and I intend to make sure you never forget it."
You felt a delicious shiver rush through you at his tone - was this the unraveling you had been hoping to provoke? Boldly holding his smoldering stare, you replied, "Is that so? And what’re you going to do to me...Sir?"
A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw as he seemed to wrestle with his self-restraint. Then, quicker than you could react, his hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back roughly.
"This..." he growled an instant before crushing his mouth against yours in a searing, hungry kiss.
You gasped at the ferocity of his passion, all the built-up tension he had been holding back now pouring into his ardent caresses. Your hands clutched at the front of his kimono as you met his fervor with your own desperate want.
Your fingers fumbled with the fabric as your mouth hungrily moved against his. He groaned into the searing kiss, the vibration sending sparks of need coursing through your veins. You managed to part the fabric enough to rake your nails over his toned chest, relishing in the way his muscles twitched at your touch.
Fukuzawa broke away with a ragged breath, his forehead pressed against yours as he gazed at you with molten eyes. "You've tormented me for far too long with your wanton behavior," he murmured, his voice strained with restrained desire. "Did you think I was blind to the way you paraded about, taunting me?"
You opened your mouth to respond, but any retort was swallowed by another kiss. This time he didn't hold back, pinning you firmly against the wall as one calloused hand boldly skimmed over the curve of your hip and thigh, squeezing your ass. You shuddered and arched shamelessly into his touch, silently pleading for him to continue his intoxicating exploration.
He trailed scorching open-mouth kisses along the column of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your sensitized skin. "Perhaps now you'll learn there are consequences for playing with fire," Fukuzawa rasped, his husky tone and the roll of his hips against yours making you dizzy with longing.
With your pussy throbbing and breath coming in shallow pants, you sought purchase by clutching at the broad planes of his back. All this time you had been determined to make this unshakable man crack - but now that he had, you were overwhelmed by the force of his smoldering passion. You wanted to drown in it, consequences be damned.
Fukuzawa's normally immaculate appearance was in delicious disarray - his kimono hanging open, hair tousled from your roaming hands. He pinned you with a look that made your insides liquify as his large, calloused hands skimmed over the bare skin of your thighs and lower back.
"Look at the temptress now," he rumbled, his voice husky and laced with want. "So responsive to my touch after batting those pretty lashes at every other man here."
You opened your mouth to respond, but only a breathy whimper escaped as Fukuzawa rolled his hips firmly against yours, allowing you to feel the undeniable hardness of his cock. Heat lanced through your cunt at the delicious friction.
"I should have acted on this long ago," he murmured against the sensitive skin just below your ear. "Shown you exactly where your teasing leads..."
His words had you trembling with heady anticipation. You fisted your hands in his kimono, tugging him even closer as your pulse thundered in your ears. "Then show me," you managed to rasp, throwing caution to the wind.
Fukuzawa's intense gaze searched yours for a molten moment before he captured your lips in another searing, demanding kiss. His large hands cradled you almost reverently as he walked you backwards towards the sofa, your sense of surroundings fading until there was only the roaring need between your entwined bodies.
With a resolute tug, your clothing began to peel away, his fiery caresses branding your bare skin as you finally surrendered to the lust that had been simmering for far too long. The air was thick and heavy with the weight of your desire, the office silent save for the mingled sounds of your heated breaths and moans.
The sofa bumped against the back of your legs and you tumbled onto it, gazing up at the imposing man towering over you. Even in this compromising position, Fukuzawa radiated authority, his gaze dark and intent as he drank in the sight of your naked, sprawled form.
"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he rasped, the slight tremor in his voice betraying his barely leashed control.
You could hardly breathe, your heart pounding as his burning gaze devoured every inch of your exposed flesh. He knelt between your legs and you could only watch, entranced, as his rough hands skimmed slowly over your trembling thighs.
"Such a tempting little vixen, teasing her superior," he continued, his voice low and gravelly. "And now she's finally within reach."
He parted your legs further, his thumbs tracing torturous circles on the tender skin of your inner thighs. "I'm going to show you exactly what happens to girls who flaunt themselves."
You shivered as his breath ghosted over your damp folds. The anticipation was torture, the aching need between your legs throbbing with each passing moment. He continued to torture you, peppering kisses all across the taut skin of your inner thighs.
Then, just when you thought you couldn't stand it anymore, Fukuzawa's tongue dragged along your slit. You arched into him with a startled moan, his large hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place. His tongue delved deeper, slipping right between your soaked folds.
"Oh God," you whimpered, fisting your hands in his silver hair as pleasure coiled within you, winding tighter and tighter.
"That's right," he rumbled against your slick pussy lips. "I want to hear every sound you make."
His words were punctuated by the firm press of his tongue against your clit, sending a bolt of electricity arcing through you. Your head fell back against the sofa, a cry of pleasure escaping as he licked and sucked at the swollen bud.
Your breath came in ragged gasps, the pleasure so intense it was almost overwhelming. You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, every muscle coiling tight, desperate for release.
Then, just as you were about to cum, Fukuzawa pulled away. You whined in protest, the loss of his hot mouth on your dripping pussy nearly painful.
"Not yet," he said, his voice thick and hoarse with arousal. "I'm not finished with you yet."
With a strength that sent another surge of heat to your core, he flipped you onto your stomach, his hand pushing the small of your back to arch your ass into the air. Your breath caught as you felt him kneeling behind you, his thick length pressing teasingly against your folds.
"You have no idea how many nights l've imagined doing this to you," Fukuzawa growled, the head of his cock sliding slowly up and down your soaked pussy. "How many times l've had to stop myself from bending you over my desk and fucking you senseless."
You moaned and wriggled against him, desperate for him to fill you. "Please, Yukichi," you gasped, his name slipping past your lips without thinking.
At the sound of his name, he grinned widely, one hand coming up to swiftly slap your rear. "You will address me as 'sir'."
Another, harder, smack had you whimpering, the stinging sensation reverberating through your core. "Yes, Sir," you breathed, fingers baring a white-knuckled grip on the couch cushions.
He teased your folds with his cock, his hand kneading your reddened flesh. "Good girl," he murmured, watching the mushroom head of his cock disappear between your puffy lips.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of teasing, he gripped his thick length and guided it to your slick entrance. You moaned as the tip slid into your cunt, your walls stretching deliciously around his girth.
"God, you're tight," he groaned, slowly easing himself deeper.
You gasped as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. The feeling of being so full, so stretched, was exquisite. You pushed back against him, wanting more.
With a deep groan, Fukuzawa began moving inside you, his thrusts slow and deep. He built a steady rhythm, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounded into you.
The sound of his skin slapping against yours was obscene, echoing in the quiet office. Pleasure coiled tighter within you, the tension ratcheting higher and higher with each thrust.
You could hear him grunting with exertion, the soft, guttural sounds of his pleasure driving you wild. The heat, the fullness, the overwhelming sensation of being fucked by the man who had consumed your every waking thought for months was almost too much to bear.
"Sir. Yukichi…fuck!" You gasped, your words dissolving into incoherence as his cock rubbed against that sweet spot deep inside you.
He grunted, his thrusts growing faster, more erratic. "Say my name again," he growled, his voice strained.
"Yukichi," you moaned, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.
At the sound of his name, he groaned, his cock throbbing within you. He pounded into you harder, his fingers digging into your hips almost painfully.
You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, the wave of pleasure cresting inside you.
Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, his thumb found your clit, circling and rubbing the swollen nub.
That was all it took. You came with a wail, your walls clamping down on his thick cock. Your vision whited out as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, rippling through your entire body.
As you trembled through the aftershocks, Fukuzawa continued to fuck you, his pace erratic, his breathing ragged. He groaned as his cock pulsed within you, spilling his hot release.
He paused for a moment, his weight holding you down before he slowly pulled his hips back, letting his softening cock slip out of your cunt. He hissed softly as he watched his seed slowly seep out of you, unable to resist the urge to use his fingers to push it back where it belonged.
The room was filled with the sound of your labored breathing, the air heavy with the scent of cum and sweat.
You were spent, your body languid and boneless in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. Fukuzawa gathered you tenderly into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he settled onto the sofa. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as he held you close.
For a long moment, you simply sat there together, catching your breath, your racing hearts gradually slowing. The silence between you was comfortable, weighted with the significance of what had just transpired.
Eventually, Fukuzawa shifted, pressing a kiss to your temple before murmuring in your ear, "Come home with me."
You pulled back slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's wise?" you asked, a hint of playfulness in your voice despite the seriousness of the question.
Fukuzawa's mouth quirked up at the corner, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and determination. "Probably not," he admitted, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your bare shoulder. "But I find myself throwing wisdom to the wind where you're concerned."
You couldn't help but smile at that, a rush of affection and exhilaration coursing through you. This was uncharted territory, a leap into the unknown. But the thought of not taking that leap, of letting this chance slip through your fingers, was unthinkable.
"Well then," you said, your decision made, "lead the way."
Fukuzawa's grin widened, his hand tightening on your hip. "With pleasure."
#bsd smut#bsd x reader#bsd x reader smut#bsd fukuzawa#fukuzawa yukichi#fukuzawa yukichi smut#fukuzawa yukichi x reader#fukuzawa yukichi x reader smut#fukuzawa x reader#fukuzawa smut#fukuzawa x reader smut#yukichi x reader#yukichi smut#yukichi x reader smut
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WIP not-Wednesday
Tagged by @welcomingdisaster to share a WIP snippet! Some tfs:
One thing about Maglor is that he needs a Job or he will go a little mad.
He is like Maedhros in that, Fingon reflects, and tries not to indulge the stab of the thought.
Unfair, to blame unhappy Maglor for not being his brother, for not having Maedhros' smile and Maedhros' bright thoughtful eyes and Maedhros' commanding presence—
Anyway: usually this does not pose much of an issue, because Maglor has made Maedhros his Job and attends to him both capably and contentedly.
Now, on the other hand, he is restless, and when Maglor is restless he hovers.
Fingon does not mind this most of the time. He likes his cousin's company, despite everything, and also Maglor is a better and more sensible advisor than most would give him credit for.
But there is really not that much for him to do today, and he is maybe driving Fingon a little crazy.
"Makalaurë," he says, "you might go down to the armoury."
Maglor smiles drily at him. "Trying to get rid of me?"
"No," Fingon lies, "only it occurred to me that you are certainly the most skilled person here at testing the metal for minute flaws – the same way you use its resonance in swordplay. And it would be good to make sure everything is in good shape while Morgoth seems to be unwiling to attack again."
“You are trying to get rid of me,” says Maglor, not really offended.
An hour later finds him in the armoury, sorting swords that need mending from those whose metal sings cleanly; he is so absorbed in the work that he does not at first notice there is someone else in the room, until Maeglin comes to stand before him.
Tagging @melestasflight, @leucisticpuffin, @meadowlarkx and @eilinelsghost!! What are you all working on?
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hello hello friend, i have a writing request!
can i get a commander mayday x reader? something along the lines of reuniting after him surviving barton 4, just some fluffy fluff (and maybe a little angst sprinkled in if you feel its necessary hehe)
much love <3
Hey there! Interesting request, we don't see much of Mayday round here but I totally get the appeal!
Obviously some changes to the show, but all for us to enjoy ;)
Hope you like it!
Xx,
Sky.
"COLD WITHOUT YOU"
SW REQUESTS –MAYDAY/(GN)READER 📩💔💖
WARNINGS: FROSTBITE&INJURY, OTHERWISE FLUFF.
It is a cold day in Barton IV; and that is saying a lot, considering the ever present freezing air on the almost desolate planet currently ruled by the Galactic Empire. You are somewhat of a nomad, having left the troubles of your past life behind; living a mostly solitary life in the mountains. It isn't the most comfortable of lifes; but you appreciate the peace and quietness that blankets your little home cavern after so much pain and destruction.
You step inside your home, instantly feeling physically better. The cave you live in shields you perfectly from the howling wind; and once you lit up a small fire in your humble living room of sorts, the temperature rises slowly but steadily. Today has been one of those days where the cold seems to slip it's thin fingers inside your clothes; leaving them humid and sticking them to your skin.
You disrobe and change to an entirely new set of clothes. You're shaking while you do so; but soon you're dressed with a dry set and you sigh in relief, sitting down next to the fire and pulling your socks off, smiling at the warming heat inches away from your frozen toes. It feels like heaven, such a small thing.
You stay close to the fire for some minutes, warming up. Once the tingling sensation has reduced and your skin and muscles feels something akin to normal, you reach over to your vault and take a pack of rations out.
"Cheers, Mayday" you joke out loud, and take your first bite into it.
It's not your everyday dinner; not you're favourite. You're pretty self-dependant. You know how to hunt your food –wether it's edible plants and fruits, or a small or large mammals–. Birds are more difficult to catch –unless they're injured–; but you've definitively had them more than once too. Hell, you've even had lizards and other small reptiles for lunch. However, when the temperatures are extremely cold and you aren't as lucky as to find much of a prey, you always have Mayday's extra rations. That's actually how the two of you met; he was scanning the perimeter of his base, once, and you were inmerse on the hunt. He watched you kill a mountain cat; and made a comment about that being a good ammount of food for two. You had been shocked by his presence and his suggestion; but loneliness had started to pull on the strings of your heart back then, and you had nodded dumbly. That night you had shared your first dinner and the warmth of your bodies; and the rest was history.
In present time, you go to sleep with a tired but soft smile on your face.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Hours later, you wake up with shuffling steps and grunts right outside your cave. You instantly frown and grab your blade, standing up quietly and slithering towards the entrance in alert. It sounds human, so your first instint is to think of Mayday; but there's more than one set of wobbly steps, and he would never bring visitors unannounced. No, it's definitively a stranger.
You see him first. He's tall and skinny; you can see that even with his armour on. It's different than those you've seen before as well; almost black, and paiting a dark contrast against the white of the snow behind him. He's got a riffle attached to his back and a visor on his helmet; some sort of sniper. He's covered in snow, shaking visibly; his companion too, who has to be almost dragged inside in order to...
"M-mayday?" You stutter, freezing on the spot and lowering your blade, abandoning your agressive possition instantly.
"W-we're going to n-need some... help..." the stranger grunts, teeth clashing violently against each other, and you spring into action, quickly standing at your partner's other side and holding some of his weight.
The three of you stumble inside; and collapse near the fire.
You're frenetically checking him inmediately. You rip his helmet of; for once having no care where it lands while you cup his face trying to get his attention and then take his pulse when he barely responds. It's faint but it's there.
"What happened?" You question the stranger in pannick.
You quickly work on taking his armour off; piling it up fast and methodically at your side. You feel the stranger studying you, but you don't even glance at him. Mayday is all that matters now.
"Avalanche" he answers, voice raspy "he hit his head. The most worrying thing now is the frostbite, though. I'd take a look at his feet if I were you".
You nod in understanding.
You're both silent for the next handful of minutes; while you leave Mayday in just his underware before covering him with one thick blanket after another. You take up some heating packs of your vault too; breaking the sticks and pushing them under the blankets so he warms up even faster. You throw some other things at the stranger too; hear him change as well in the silence of your home.
Mayday's still shivering half an hour later. His skin still looks dangerously red and blue; body trembling in his unconsciousness. You've already pushed him close to the fire, used some heat sticks, changed his wet clothes and covered him in blankets. There's only so much you can do.
Without worrying on the other soldier seing you half naked, you take your clothes off, and cuddle up close to Mayday inside his refuge of blankets. He's so cold it makes you wince and tremble; but you clench your jaw and stubbornly press your whole body against him. He needs you, and the cold isn't going to stop you. Mayday mumbles and you soothe him with a caress and a Keldabe kiss.
"You better not try anything or you'll end up dead" you warn the soldier, who's still looking at the both of you, either from mistrust or surprise.
"Won't" you hear him grumble, shakily. "You're my best chance of survival. Besides, I owe him".
You only desperately wish Mayday survives the night as well.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
You wake up with your man mumbling incoherent words and pressing further into you, cold –but normal cold– nose hiding on the curve of your neck. You blink sleeply, and scan him instantly; a relieved sigh escaping your lips at the feeling of his no longer alarming body temperature stealing some of yours.
Your hands come up to cup his face; brushing his long disheveled hair aside and staring at him with raw adoration and love. You can't help yourself and kiss him, then; a soft, heartfelt press of lips.
Mayday groans and groggily opens his eyes; scanning the situation –gaze lingering on Crosshair's lying form a pair of meters away– before returning to you. He hums, and hides his face in your neck again, kissing your skin gently.
"Morning, cyare" he whispers, voice hoarse but sounding like a dream to you. "Sorry for stealing your heat tonight".
You sigh in content and wrap your leg around his hips. One of Mayday's strong big hands reaches down to hold your thigh against him.
"Just happy you're safe and sound, May" you whisper back at him, pulling back to look at him in the eyes. "You scared the shit out of me".
Mayday hums and tugs you closer to him. The warmth feels delicious below the blankets. You can't help but feel a slow, unhurried tingle of arousal building inside of you. You don't do anything to chase it.
"Mm. I know. I'm sorry, mesh'la. Yesterday was a mess".
You stay in silence for some time; both of you caressing each other's skin softly.
Your eyes glance back at the other soldier sleeping on your cave.
"Who is he?" You whisper to him.
Mayday takes a moment to answer.
"Imperial sniper. A clone, though obviously different than me. I Think... Think he's starting to get tired of it. Some part of him clinges to the Empire like it's the only thing he has left; but I think it's just a matter of time before he let's go".
You hum distractedly. Your nose brushes against his.
"You trust him?"
Mayday sighs.
"Trust is a powerful word" he carefully answers. "I think he's made some bad choices, like me. But he's a good kid".
You give him a soft smile and kiss his lips once more. His beard and mustache tickles your skin.
"You can't save everyone".
Mayday smiles; a small, nostalgic tug of his lips.
"I know" he whispers, closing his eyes and cupping your cheek with his hand, foreheads pressing together. "I'll just focus on you, then".
THE END.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Boom! This oneshot came up being a mix of fluffy and nostalgic/melancholy angsty! I hope you liked it!
Next work will be a non romantic Echo&Omega angsty/comfort convo. After that we've got a cryptic pregnancy with Hunter, and then some more fun&light oneshots too!
Stay stunned,
Xx,
Sky.
PS. Still not knowing how to link works with just the title. I accept help xD.
Back to my main masterlist here:
#commander mayday#star wars#clones#fanfic#tbb#hunter tbb#tech tbb#clone wars#echo tbb#fics#wrecker tbb#tbb crosshair#the bad batch crosshair#clone trooper crosshair#cross#tbb au#arc trooper echo#the bad batch#tech#clone force 99#clone au#cuddles#huddling for warmth#one shot#oneshot#request#open requests#clone trooper wrecker#x reader
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Honestly I feel like Jayce would be the "oh yeah sex with men. Yeah I've done tons of it. Several dozen. I'm a pro at this Vik, I swear 😏😏😏" type
(Viktor can see right through his bullshit tho)
Hahahaha yeah he kinda does doesn’t he. And to a certain point, Viktor just plays with him, sees how far he’s willing to take this little lie. And Jayce just keeps letting it go, and Viktor can tell he’s silently freaking out, so he’s finally like Jayce I know you’ve never done this before.
And Jayce turns bright red and says me?? Nooooo totally done this like a million times, so many times, in fact it’s like a daily routine now…
Viktor interrupts him: you are a terrible liar.
Jayce’s blush only intensifies, and Viktor decides to stop teasing him. It’s alright that you’ve never done this before. I’ll be gentle.
#ughhhhhh soft dom Viktor makes me go absolutely feral#he’s so commanding and has such a presence#but he also knows how delicate Jayce is#and he takes gooooood care of his precious sub#arcane#jayvik#jayce talis#arcane Viktor#asks#ace answers
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omg childe’s story quest, he is such a great older brother and that makes him x100000 hotter, also him using foul legacy again, but at the cost of his health 😞💔 sir pls be careful
#he really said he wants to take us to his house to meet his family#if i wasn’t delusional before i sure am now#people referring to him as ‘master’ and ‘sir’ i just know he has those kinks#and the way he is so commanding and has such a strong presence#it’s adorable the way his little brother looks up to him#i wonder what his other siblings are like too#tartaglia 𓆩☆𓆪#risu’s rambles ☆
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im so glad that you're alive
#homestuck#dirk strider#dave strider#dirkdave#stridercest#homestuck^2#Yeah it is supposed to be a post hs2 thing#I think that Dave will forgive Dirk but he will getting used to his presence and recover from all things quite long#Dave has a pouches under his eyes because when he slept he was seeing nightmares when Dirk command Dave to kill Dirk and he didn't like it#Obviously#Dirk seeing that Dave is looking more tired overall and he KNOWS why this is happened he knows he knows that Dave is morally broken again#Because of him Dave again#They're so gay
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One of the thing I love about IDW Op is that he's technically an atheist war pope. It's interesting that he didn't believe in religious aspect himself but was willing to use it for the power. Made his character more complex to me. Do you have opinion on this topic?
I have a lot of mixed feelings about it tbh. On one hand, I think being an atheist/agnostic fits IDW Optimus' character well (I've tried to imagine him as religious and just...can't), but on the other hand, I kind of have a problem with the way most media depicts religious people, and it's a bit disappointing that the Matrix has canonically been associated with multiple miracles (reviving OP and Hot Rod from death, creating new sparks, even Primus/Rung being able to make them) but Optimus still calls the Matrix 'nothing but a bauble' at some point like. Really bro? So there is a part of me that is disappointed at the Matrix being treated as a Plot Device rather than a proper, respectable religious thing. On the other hand, that's just not what the story is about, and I can't call a story/character bad because it didn't go in the exact direction I wanted.
TLDR: I think Optimus being agnostic/atheist makes sense for him, but I really dislike the way it was handled in the story because it feels more like it was used as a plot inciting device than some sort of journey of Optimus trying to discover his purpose. Also, the way he interacts with other religious characters had a lot of wasted potential, so I just feel like it wasn't written in a very interesting way? Basically, the writing is such a mixed bag of interesting concepts with mediocre/bad execution that I can barely focus on the in-universe implications and mostly just get mad at Barber's writing.
My feelings are also complicated by the fact that I don't like Barber's writing at all (it's like 90% dislike and 10% like) because of how bad he is about prioritizing plot over character emotions and stuff. Earlier on in phase 2 it seemed as if Optimus was genuinely curious about his religious role as a Prime and asked the Camiens for guidance on who he should be as Prime (Windblade, Aileron, the Mistress of Flame). In Death of Optimus Prime, OP literally wished he was dead when he woke up. He made a very big deal about how he's Orion now, not Optimus. In Dark Cybertron he had a whole crisis about whether he's Orion or Optimus. Basically, he was set up to have a huge identity crisis (especially since the war is over and leadership of Cybertron fell to Starscream), but any amount of introspection was quickly derailed into PLOT PLOT PLOT OPTIMUS ANNEXES EARTH AND FIGHTS GALVATRON. The story just devolved into bullshit plot on Earth that was just action, action, plot, things happening, with pretty much no room for the characters to stop and breathe and talk and have relationships with each other. I barely felt any emotional investment for most of exRID.
I think the only scenes we got with Optimus actually getting to reflect on this new role of his was 1. when he first met Aileron and asked her and 2. when he's telling Aileron he doesn't believe and then Pyra Magna comes in and gets mad at him.
Speaking of Pyra Magna, the story writing also annoyed me because from the moment she was introduced, Pyra Magna was SUPER self-righteous about how she should be the Prime instead of Optimus and she said that she would try to make Optimus into a better Prime. But then guess what happens? Her and Optimus barely talk and Pyra Magna is basically just there to form Superion and punch people :/ And then later on when Onyx Prime is introduced, all the sudden Pyra Magna goes from having strong opinions about what a True Prime should be and believing she's destined to be the true Prime........ to talking about how she's never trusted Primes and she left the Mistress of Flame for trusting a Prime too quickly??? I know Pyra Magna isn't Optimus, but the reason I'm bringing her up is because she seemed truly religious and opinionated, she SAID she was going to "teach" Optimus things, she seemed like she was set up to be a rival to Optimus, but instead they barely have interactions and the ones they do have early in the series end up being retconned later by Barber's shitty writing that puts plot over consistent character development so. :/ I really expected Pyra Magna and Optimus to have some meaningful interactions, some mix between a rivalry and a mentor/student situation, but instead all she does is shit on him like half the case of exRID/OP and it just made me mad.
(There was also Slide who went from worshipping Optimus to saying that his leadership style is "literally fascism" and monologuing about how Optimus is a conqueror while fighting Unicron and Trypticon is being killed in the background. She's so fucking annoying and comically stupid that I genuinely thought she was going to betray them or do something evil just because she was so unhinged.)
But if you want my actual in-universe opinion on atheist pope Optimus, I do think it's an interesting concept. It shows off Optimus' sense of duty where even though HE doesn't believe, he thinks that what other people think of him his more important. He sees that being a religious figure can help him do what he thinks is right, so he willingly plays that role as a means to a greater end. He's already a "patriot and hero" to the Autobots thanks to his military feats; he's used to being venerated (sometimes to unhealthy degrees) and knows how powerful his influence can be whenever he makes political decisions. I think that he basically saw the Camiens' worship of him as just a new form of the admiration he was already used to receiving. He's spent his whole life commanding armies so simply adopted the colonists into his ranks as well.
(Also, side note, it's so fucking hypocritical for Pyra Magna to call Optimus a piece of shit for "using belief, but not believing" only for her herself to admit a few volumes later that she's never trusted Primes. Why do you wanna be one so badly then if you think Primes are so awful? If it's because you think you could do a better job than past Primes, that literally makes you the same as Optimus, who is also trying to redeem the title of Prime, so you have no right to be punching Optimus in the face lmao. But I also genuinely can't tell if that hypocrisy is supposed to be deliberate or if Barber just did what he usually did and ignored character emotion/motivation/self-reflection in favor of shoving some backstory in for Pyra Magna that tied her to Onyx Prime.)
At least Optimus tried to discourage the blind worship and used the Camiens to do things he had already spent his whole life doing (fighting genocidal colonizers aka Decepticons and protecting organic lives) so I don't really see it as out of line for Optimus. It shows how IDW OP can be a politician as well as a military leader. I think it shows how Optimus can be clever and take advantage of his reputation to achieve his political goals (protecting Earth) and it makes him a more realistic character. Sometimes things that are good aren't done through noble means. Sometimes people do good things by being not very nice.
Also, for what it's worth, I think IDW OP is less manipulative than someone like Starscream, who constantly flaunted his "Chosen One" status while admitting he didn't believe in it (or wavering in his belief) and doing things like creating secret police and trying to kidnap sparklings. Like damn at least Optimus risked his life in the same battles he asked his followers to fight in, he ruined his reputation for the sake of protecting Earth from the Decepticons. Even if the guy is an atheist pope at least he puts his own ass on the line for things he believes in for the sake of protecting people who pretty much hate him lmao. That's why I'm more inclined to view Optimus sympathetically; he's living a lie for political means, but his politics are literally "protect humans and Earth from the bullshit war and destruction Cybertronians forced onto their planet", and the burden of leadership is making him depressed and passively suicidal, and eventually he literally sacrificed himself by jumping into a black hole to save millions/billions of people so like. Let the guy fucking rest lmao.
#squiggle answers#idw op love#hot take but when you think about it#if idw op hadn't annexed earth then cybertron would have had no allies against unicron#unicron would've destroyed all the other planets and come to earth#then the humans would probably be unprepared for the battle and not used to working with cybertronians#and they might all have died#and also the remnants of the cybertronian race would have had no planet to live on#so like. i'm just saying this to put it on the record#OP is pretty much directly the reason why earth the human race and the cybertronian race aren't extinct#which i think makes him a very effective and realistic politician/military commander#he did shit things because that's the nature of war and politics#but also without his presence then the world/galaxy would be immeasurably different probably for the worse#which is why i get so mad when people just go 'he did bad things!' and hate him because of that#yes. he did bad things. he also did good things#he's a fucking military commander did you expect him to be a squeaky clean uwu daddy who's nice to everyone and has never done anything bad#sorry the ask was about religion but i also derailed it into idw op's politics#i thought this would be like a 10 minute answer but fucking OOPS#i should've been in bed like an hour ago
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Also on the subject of me being unnecessarily mean to people, someone asked me why I refused to buy the new P3 remake and I just replied that if I wanted a Persona game with dumbed-down gameplay I would just replay Persona 5.
#im not asking for every Persona game to have SMT levels of difficulty#but I called that they were going to dumb down Tartarus wayyyy too much and from the gameplay footage ive seen im comfortable saying i#was right#maybe if they do remakes of Persona 2 IS and EP ill consider throwing my money#only because its the best in the series and has the best cast#sloot bitches about things#and holy fuck Orpheus's awakening looks like some SFM bullshit now#and i like the new tracks a lot but theres a giant shoji meguro shaped hole in the remixes and arrangements#and its painfully obvious. like none of the remix tracks sound good to me#also the voice acting is actually pretty nice but i prefer most of the original voices#Tara Platt gave Mitsuru a commanding presence the new va doesnt have#aigis's new va misunderstood Aigis's entire portrayal and that shes supposed to be ROBOTIC. not just a monotone person#junpei/Yukari/Door-kun are easily the best. esp junpei. i prefer him actually lol#And Alex Le is clearly putting so much passion into this role. good on him#personally tho i have a...weird relationship to Sega's English localization#like in Infinite Wealth the dubbed versions was starting to piss me off bc its so different from the subbed#and when it comes to scenes like Kiryu's reason for joining the waste disposal it muddles the actual thing hes saying a lot of the time#that said sega hires very professional talented vas even if i dont always agree with their translation choices#p3r is no exception
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Me: the beauty ab roger’s character is that he is truly human. He is a being made of love and so selfish for it in a way that is so human. He has no Devil Fruit or magical weapon, only sheer willpower of his haki. His humanity is a core-aspect of his being
Also me: heeho,,, inhuman au’s,,,, literal god or monster goes brr <3
#[ ooc ] ✧〖 bid farewell to weaver’s town 〗#[ i am not immune to inhuman aus....#[ its ab the symbolism#[ roger being an actual deity or some form of....#[ or former#[ imagine loving humanity and humans so much that you choose to become one#[ and experiencing it all with love in your heart#[ and just. imagine seeing this man who can feels as though he commands a room wit his mere presence#[ who has the stars in his eyes and sun in his laugh#[ who doesnt seem to really get being human but willing to learn#[ /happy/ to learn#[ who doesn't know what grief is and in turn brings hellfire with his rage#[ unhinged....#[ i!! am going to be so normal about this concept and Not make a verse about it Surely
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x : LUNCH BREAK :*+ﾟ
in which: you don't visit wriothesley during his lunch break after last night's argument, so he goes to the court of fontaine just to see you.
warnings: approx. 1.9k words, PURE FLUFF, gn!reader x pathetic and soppy and lovesick wriothesley, canon setting, reader works at the court of fontaine, post-argument so very minimal angst, probs not in character LOL
a/n: there's not a lot of content regarding fontaine or wriothesley rn so i apologise if this isn't completely in character. what i do not apologise for, however, is the urge to make him as lovesick as possible.
There is a notable tension in the Fortress of Meropide, and although a prison isn’t a place for rainbows and sunshine, today it feels especially devastating. It seems that the lord of the prison is the one responsible for it.
Brooding at his desk, Wriothesley glances occasionally at the clock on his desk, growing more and more impatient with each document he has to read through. He is waiting for something: a knock on his door. He is waiting for the call of his name, the reason for their interruption, then your name will reach his ears and an unmatched excitement will bloom in his chest. Then you’ll slip through the doors with lunch for two, he’ll pull out a chair for you right beside him, and mask professionalism that betrays the eagerness your presence always brings out.
Your absence must be because of the argument that happened last night. One that remained unresolved because he went to bed before you, too furious to try to talk it out. Yet, when Wriothesley woke in the morning, a wave of guilt washed over him when you weren’t pressed against him like usual. Instead, you were on the other side of the mattress, further than an arm’s length away whilst turned away from him and Fontaine’s chilly mornings had never felt colder.
If he didn’t need to go to work much earlier than you, he would have waited until you had woken up to leave, but being the lord of the Fortress of Meropide meant that his presence was demanded. So, with a lingering kiss to your cheek and then your temple, he leaves into the dewy mornings of Fontaine, looking forward to his lunch break that the two of you often share together.
Except now, lunch is almost over and there hasn’t been a knock on his door. No one has called his name- not people he cared about, at least. You haven’t slipped through the heavy set of doors. You haven’t come down from the Court of Fontaine to visit him, and Wriothesley’s patience is thinning.
His fingers itch with the need to hold you, to tuck you close to his chest and just keep you there for a few moments as time pass by. Especially after last night, Wriothesley needs you now more than ever.
By the time there’s only one hour left in the work day, he snaps. Stands up from his seat with an unmatched sense of fervour because of the unnervingly quiet day and snatches his coat from the hanger, leaving documents unread as he makes a beeline for the exit of the prison. The guards listen attentively to Wriothesley’s final commands for the day in his absence and once the information is cemented, the dark-haired is off without another second wasted.
You, on the other hand, sit in your office drowned in piles upon piles of papers. Wriothesley is a passing thought every now and then, the memories of last night’s harsh argument settling like weights in your stomach. You miss Wriothesley, very dearly, and all you want is to settle things with him. However, the image of his furious eyes and clenched jaw terrifies you beyond belief, you’re not even sure if he’ll be calmer by the time you get home, so for the first time ever, you dread the idea of going home.
What you are completely unaware of, however, is your lover that is storming your way, desperate to receive the medicine that will cure his moodiness and irritation.
The knock on your door distracts you from the piles of papers on your desk.
“Who is it?” you call out, voice reverberating around the spaciousness of your office.
“It’s Wriothesley, can I come in?” His tone is sharp and leaves no room for you to reject him, but the mere sound of his voice causes you to stiffen, grip on your pen tightening as the papers before you lay forgotten.
What is Wriothesley doing here? He normally never comes up to the Court of Fontaine just to see you because leaving the prison would be far too neglectful. There was also half an hour before he was done for the day, so could there be official business that needs to be discussed? Something urgent, perhaps?
If it was urgent, then why come to you and not Monsieur Neuvillette- or even Lady Furina?
“Yeah- yes, you can come in,” you mutter.
When the door clicks open, Wriothesley practically barges through, door shutting behind him as he marches towards you. Getting up from your chair, you’re frightened with anticipation due to how intense his stance is.
“Is something the matter?” You begin, panic seeping into your voice as he pauses before you, determination setting his eyes ablaze as he eyes you down like prey. “Wriothesley, you’re scaring me, did something happen at the prison-”
“Where were you at lunch?” He demands.
You blink. “Excuse me?”
“Why didn’t you come visit?”
“Is… is why you came up here? To ask why I didn’t visit you during lunch?”
He nods, expression stern as usual save for a small pout.
“I was swamped with work,” you half-lie, gesturing to the desk behind you and although there is clear evidence on your table through the form of stacked folders and paper, a storm of uncertainty brews in his blue eyes. “I couldn’t visit if I wanted to get these done, I apologise.”
The dark-haired frowns. “Is that it?”
“Yes. That’s all.” His eyebrows furrow, creating crease marks in his forehead that you want to kiss away, alleviating his worries, but you hold yourself back from doing so in fear that Wriothesley does not want you touching him.
However, a switch is flicked when Wriothesley’s stern expression softens, melting into one resembling a kicked dog. “So you’re not upset with me?”
“Oh, is that also on your mind?”
“Of course, I don’t like it when you’re upset with me,” your lover mutters, looking away bashfully to conceal the reddening of his cheeks. “You aren’t though, right?”
“No, not upset. Scared, maybe, but definitely not upset.”
His eyes are glossy when he looks back at you. “Scared, why are you scared?”
“W-we didn’t end on a good note last night,” you rub your wrist nervously. “I didn’t know if you would be happy with seeing me. On top of that, you can be really intimidating sometimes, so admittedly, I was a little scared to come see you just in case that you did not want me there.”
Wriothesley visually deflates with your last statement, shoulders dropping and eyes glistening as he murmurs a small, pathetic, “is that so?”
He wonders what part about him ever made it seem like he never wants you beside him, and the thought that he had frightened you enough to prevent you visiting him is an upsetting one. You must see it in his eyes with the way you frantically begin to explain yourself.
“Oh no, darling, I didn’t mean it like that-”
He turns his head away again, disappointed in himself. It’s one thing for his prisoners to consider him intimidating but it’s another for you, his own lover, to think so as well, and the thought that he had scared you creates insurmountable shame to swell within him. Yet, his whirlwind of anxieties ceases when your hand goes to cup his cheek, gently prompting him to look at you. Then, a kiss is pressed to the corner of his lips, and his heart skips a beat at the sensation, love blocking his airways when you pull away to smile up at him.
“As scary as you might be, oh great lord of the Fortress of Meropide, I also know you will never hurt me,” you reassure. “Rather, I feel safest when I’m around you, please never doubt that.”
Wriothesley sighs, hand snaking up to grip your waist and pull you closer to him. “Thank you, my love. But I beg, even if you assume I am upset with you, please keep visiting my office during lunch, it is the part of the day I look forward to most.”
“If that is your request then maybe you just need to be good and listen to me instead of arguing until your head pops off,” you tease, patting his face twice and he huffs before muttering an ‘understood’. Anything to see you. “Is there something else you need from my office?”
“No, just wanted to see you,” he looks at the brown paper bag in his hands. “I brought you lunch, just in case you didn’t eat.”
“Wriothesley,” you melt, “how thoughtful of you. I’ll make sure to eat it when I finish reading those contracts.”
“You should eat now, though. Don’t drown yourself in work, it’s not healthy.”
“I wish it were that easy, but these piles were dumped on my desk this morning and were assigned to be done by the end of the week.”
The hand that was on your waist comes up to gently hover over your cheek and Wriothesley studies you, icy eyes hardening due to the fatigue present in your expression. You grab his wrist, trying to diverge his attention, but you should know better than assuming that your wellbeing isn’t of utmost importance to him. “Unacceptable, I should have a word with your supervisor-”
“-no, no, Wriothesley! I insist, this is manageable.”
He frowns, deep and serious before surrendering to your pleas. “Fine, but if it doesn’t get better by the end of the week, then I will be interfering.”
“If you do so, my supervisor will be too scared to come in for a month,” you squeeze his wrist and gently guide it away from your face, ignorant to how your neglect for your own health hurts Wriothesley as well. He knows you love your job, but he still thinks that you deserve to live life carefree, that you should get everything you want without ever lifting a finger. “It’s alright, dear, you mustn’t worry about me when your work is a thousand times more stressful.”
“Impossible.” He worries about you every second of the day. Telling Wriothesley to stop fretting over you would be like telling him to stop breathing. “Now eat.”
You yelp when he pulls you towards your chair, sitting you down. From the paper bag, he takes out a sandwich, one that you recognise is from one of fontaine’s favourite cafés, and he carefully unwraps it before raising it to your mouth.
“Wriothesley… this is a little embarrassing,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself.
He doesn’t say anything, just persistently stares at you, gaze intense enough for you to give in. As you lean in to take the first bite, you are bashfully looking away from your lover, who wears a pleased expression, satisfied with the fact that you’re letting him take care of you.
The tension from last night’s dispute hasn’t completely melted away, there are still things that need to be discussed calmly, but as you keep trying to push his hand away and battle Wriothesley’s indestructible stubbornness, he knows it will work out in the end. You love him and he loves you, and if you ever forget to visit him during lunch break again, then he’ll have to tear himself away from the prison and come up, just to meet you.
© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
#genshin x reader#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley fluff#wriothesley x reader fluff#wriothesley x gn!reader#genshin fluff#genshin x reader fluff
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࿐ husband neuvillette headcanons (f!reader) ࿐
neuvillette, the most respected man in the nation of hydro, more than their archon focalors. he commands respect wherever he goes, his aura still polite, ever so approachable. however, the power of his position cowers people. they are often rendered scared to approach him, some of them literally profusely sweating around his nimble aura.
you, were his wife now, his significant other. someone he cherished more than life itself & someone who made you feel safe, heard, protected. it was said that he was the most sought out bachelor in fontaine before he left his heart for you one day. “break it or keep it. it isn’t mine anymore.” is what he said, when he proposed you. oh the words ring into your ear like the finest melodies till date.
the steambird/ the media was eager to cover everything about the wedding; but to their surprise— neuvillette took you outside fontaine. the city of freedom — monstadt is where you two tied the knot in the presence of a certain, melodious and a high alcohol simp bard.
truth be told, once you were married. there were people who forced false allegations on you. how you manipulated the chief justice into falling in love with you. how you are fake and you act in accordance to his liking to be loved by him. some people even tried to forge false cases against you. all of which— deeply entertained furina. thankfully, neuvillette was never someone to pay attention to any of these things. at one time, he himself fought for you in a false trial. you couldn’t be more thankful.
rains— the legend of hydro dragon weeping causing the rains was famous throughout the country of fontaine. one day, when neuvillette came home a little early, looking distressed, you noticed a harsh, unforgiving thunderstorm drenching the country. you walked towards the terrace, looking up and gently, soothingly whispering. “oh- hydro dragon. please don’t cry.” the rain… lessened. it was as if the intensity had been lessened.
it wasn’t more time until neuvillette confessed to you about him being a hydro dragon. ever since then, whenever there had been rains in fontaine, you make sure to find your beloved husband and hug him tightly, kiss his forehead and tell him everything will be alright. it breaks you apart seeing him like this after all.
sometimes when he comes back home, he always brings your favorite flowers, maybe your favorite desserts, along with a beaming smile only you have seen. people who are aquainted to you often ask if neuvillette being the chief justice and being the most powerful man in fontaine makes your married life difficult. truth is.. it could never. they just haven’t had any access to the good that your beloved dragon holds.
things do get riff-raffy when furina acts a little too childish around him. he pays no attention to her self-centered, self-absorbed behavior but it pinches you how she bothers him for every little thing. once, there was a celebratory banquet held for the same and your displeased face told neuvillette in that very instant — how you’d like the archon to ‘behave’ around your husband. he has been extra careful ever since. <3
your husband might look stern, but he is a soft man. you have witnessed this first hand with how respectfully and tenderly he treats you. on the bad days of your period, the chief justice is nothing but a doting husband for his wifey. you can always be snuggled up to him and cry, or just spend time.
he is a HUGE cuddle bug. would love to destress off work by wrapping his big arms around you and peppering your face with tender kisses. he smells amazing too! always making you feel warm and fuzzy inside.
#neuvillette#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin fluff#genshin comfort#neuvillette x reader#neuvillete fluff#neuvillete genshin#neuvillette x reader fluff#genshin impact fluff
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• Life •
Sukuna grappling becoming a father while you give birth.
CW/TW: GN! reader, Labour/Childbirth, Sukuna typical violence mentions, BRIEF suggestive stuff, Nothing graphic, Religious metaphors & LOTS of life/death talk, (LMK if I should add anything else!)
Characters: Sukuna x Reader
AN: Nobody dies in this fic! It's fluff-ish. (It's Sukuna and reader giving birth, as fluffy as that can be man), prequel to this Descendant fic
Life was such a fickle thing, not that it mattered to Sukuna. He was above life, death sickness and health, beyond it, above the proper empathy to care for it. It wasn't that he didn't understand, because he did, once mortal himself, and existing on this earth surrounded by the humanity that populated on it for years as a curse, he understood. But there was no legitimate reason for it to matter to him unless he could gain from a life, there was no reason to mind it.
And by the loose, greedy and otherwise just gluttonous standards of what it meant to be a creature of 'gain' to Sukuna, you fit it to the T, your life mattered to him. Your life, it was something he wanted, no needed to maintain to be kept satisfied, if you weren't there to be by his side, he'd be left starved.
To lose such a thing, would only ignite a certain wrath inside of him.
The screams of agony that parted from your pretty little lips had his chest twisting into a feeling of irritation. He much preferred your screams of ecstasy, making you scream his name in sweet pretty moans when he bedded you. Not this, screams of something he was also the culprit of in fairness, sobbed screams of pain as your body tore to birth his child.
Sukuna enjoyed such screeches of terror, weak defeated sobs he could rip and tear from the pathetic lot of mortals he terrorized, all of whose lives served no purpose to him. The issue is, yours does serve purpose, a great purpose to Sukuna. You're always there, by his side, and when you're not, it bothers him, he's greedy, hungry for you.
Your pain only infuriates him, he doesn't like it at all, no, he loathes listening to it.
Finally, finally, it stops after what felt like torturously long, it comes to a stop. Like that, the tightness inside his chest unwrapped, Sukuna didn't think he'd ever feel relief, he wouldn't need to, he had never fought an opponent he couldn't defeat, pillaged an army that would come close to his strength there was no concerns or worry for him to have to be relieved from. Yet here he was basking in such relief. Your screams stop, now instead replaced by the bothersome cries of something much more smaller. Squeaky small wails, that of an infant. his infant.
"Lord Sukuna." A muttered voice of one of the midwives comes through the door separating Sukuna from the delivery room. The door opens to the midwives attending finishing up and then all bowing in submission, their heads hanging low as Sukuna stands by the door-frame.
"Done?" He asks, more so a statement, a demand as everything he speaks is.
"Yes-" The meek voice of a midwife responds, she not daring to look up from the floor of the delivery room.
"Then what the hell are you dimwitted fools doing? OUT." There's the slightest growl in his voice at the command, one that though slight works wonders on any who dare stand in his presence, and to which without a moment of hesitation has all the midwives scatter out of the room, rushing out with their heads low. Only one pauses to shut the door behind herself, not wanting to risk the stupidity of leaving the door open.
Now, only the sounds of a baby's cries echo in the room, the small thing wrapped, protected in a small blanket. The moment is deafening as it is loud, there are as many thoughts as there is nothing in his eyes as he stares at the small baby you held. Yes, you made his child, 9 tedious months of him practically carrying you around everywhere and it was out now.
Sukuna was, well Sukuna, he didn't bother thinking much of the specifics, but rather the obvious reality of the situation during those passing months, and didn't see a reason to. He could still sleep with you, could still have you around, could still listen to your voice speak with him in converse. Was it different? Sure, but in no way that bothered him. Cravings? The King of the Curses can provide feasts. Tired? You needn't walk, he has four arms for a reason. The bodily change? Sukuna guts humans like pigs, the size of your stomach was far from grotesque to such a demon like Sukuna.
But now, he is met with the reality, the sight, the sound the smell of the newborn babe, absolutely reeking of familiarity, a literal complete being of two halves, Sukuna and you. It's overwhelming, and not in the way Sukuna likes, not in the hedonistic pleasures he enjoys but rather overwhelming in thoughts. Thoughts as rampant as blank in his mind, fogged like he was considering all of this.
"Sukuna." A clear call of his name comes from your throat despite its audible hoarseness of exhaustion, still as captivating as always, catching his entire attention. No one can command the Sukuna, but he doesn't need to be commanded when you call for him, because it's in his full will and gratification to come to your side, which he of course does. Stepping softly to where you are laid, surrounded by stained sheets, tools and incense presumably used in aid of the birth.
"What?" His throat rumbles, a question with no particular answer aside from the obvious literal whole baby you had birthed in your arms.
"Look at them... Beautiful, aren't they?" And perhaps by the grace of a god he'd doubted existed, there was a moment of serenity now, the fog cleared from the depths of his sick mind as he gazed upon the small bundle in your arms. That was your grace perhaps, no definitely, definitely your grace, you had bore his child.
That damned sinister grin came over his face as he reached down to the infant, the large monstrously large hand of his ever so delicately traced the cheek of the little one, a comical contrast between himself and the child. For the entirety of you and Sukuna's time spent together, he had considered you the only life that truly mattered to him, and now you had created a life from the mere womb, you've given him another life he'd find true importance in.
His child's life, blessed by the sanctified arms that cradled it.
"Divine, rather." He rumbled, a short snicker leaving his twisted tongue, but laced with genuine adoration. Utter devotion to this small life, to both two lives he had found himself so graciously gifted. Of you, of his child.
#jjk x reader#sukuna x reader#dad!sukuna#jjk#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x you#no use of y/n#true form sukuna#dad sukuna#jujutsu kaisen x reader#sukuna jjk
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Alpha!Ghost who has never had an omega on his team, most of them comprised of other alphas and betas.
Alpha!Ghost who gets you on his team and can immediately tell something is different and whatever it is, he can't tell if he likes it.
Alpha!Ghost who starts to find his instincts to fight and protect turn to growling at you, backing you into a corner and feeling his pride swell when you submit with the equivalent of a pup in trouble.
Alpha!Ghost who likes to push you around, show you his strength. Grabbing your arms and telling you where to go, getting an extra thrill from being in command of you.
Alpha!Ghost who stays up late at night, remembering those times he saw you bow under his tone and nearly whimper when he told you to do something. Fisting his cock to the memories of you submitting and willing yourself to his command.
Alpha!Ghost who smell your heat before anyone else. He knows it's there, he's never done anything sexual with you, but he knows about it.
Omega!Reader who tries to block their scent and hide, curling into their nest and humping their pillow desperately while whimpering.
Omega!Reader whose heat only gets worse, scent getting thicker with need and arousal. Getting the attention of other alphas along the base.
Alpha!Ghost who is locked in his office, smelling you through the vents and ruthlessly fisting his cock. Thinking about sticking his knot inside you and making you his.
Alpha!Ghost who can barely contain himself and the thought of someone else getting to you first drives him.
Rushing to your room and pushing anyone else away. He heads inside, closing and locking the door.
Omega!Reader who can smell Ghosts scent immediately but is too snuggled in their den, too high on arousal that they can't care to do anything except mewl and arch in the presence of his scent.
Alpha!Ghost who feels his cock getting 7xs as hard with being so close. Seeing your cute little den and the idea of taking you and filling you up in your safe space.
Alpha!Ghost who has both instincts to be dominant and also caring, crawling over you and pressing his chest to your back, cupping hour skin. Kissing along your neck and nipping your ear, asking if you want it.
Omega!Reader begging Ghost incoherently to stuff them and fill them, to make them his. And Ghost who listening.
Wasting no time in getting his cock out, shoving his fingers inside your dripping, aching hole and stretching you out while listening to your lewd, unfiltered filthy noises.
Growling to silence you, grabbing your throat to keep you in your pillows.
Alpha!Ghost who tears off his sweater and shirt, putting them in your den and forcing your face into them so you can smell his sweat and cologne. So you can get off smelling your alpha.
Alpha!Ghost who gets his cock inside you, unable to control himself any more as he relishes in your tight hole. Shoving his swelling cock inside your desperately, eager entrance and pounding you deep into your safe place.
Alpha!Ghost who can smell the other alphas outside and is licking his lips because he gets you. He gets this pretty, soaked hole, he gets the little omega who he's been fisting his cock to for months.
Knowing he's won. And he gets to fill you, he gets to drive his seed inside you and knot you with his pups.
Alpha!Ghost who growls at you purely so you'll whine more for him and arch your pretty little ass. Clawing at your hips and burrowing you so deep into your pillows by force.
Omega!Reader who cums multiple times in 20 minutes just from smelling Ghost's clothes. Then having his cock stretching them and making them feel from another universe.
Spluttering and whimpering to be filled.
Alpha!Ghost who slams his knot deep inside you, grunting as he fills you up with his cum, your stomach pushing out a little, his knot keeping him tied to you.
Omega!Reader who whimpers and shivers as Ghost rubs their tummy, gently guiding them down to the bed, cooing in their ear and kissing their lobe.
"Oh I got you sweetheart... Easy, love." He'll whisper, laying down behind you, holding you gently.
Pressing soft, slow kisses to you, making sure you're comfortable. Letting his cock remain in you, even well past his knot swelling down he stays inside you. Relishing it.
"There it is... Took me so well, so good, love." He'll praise, rubbing your tummy gently to try and soothe you. So so proud of you, taking his cock like that...
Part 2, 3, 4
#cod smut#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x female reader#simon riley x reader#cod mw2#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader smut#alpha simon riley#omega reader#alpha!ghost#omega!reader
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Under the Opulence - Max Verstappen
⋗ Pairing - Max Verstappen x Reader
⋗ Summary - Your family isn't kind to you, and in fact, they all think Max would be a much better fit for your sister. Max likes to differ.
⋗ Word count - 3.4k words, hurt/comfort
⋗ Masterlist - This has been finished for some time, but I've only gotten around to given it a name Feedback and reblogs are appreciated
The grandeur of your family's foyer, adorned with polished marble and intricate chandeliers, set the stage for Max’s introduction to the world you came from. As you and Max entered, the echoes of your footsteps reverberated through the opulent space, the air charged with excitement and anxiety, but most noticeably on your side, dread.
Gabriella, your sister, emerged from an adjoining room, her presence demanding attention. With her radiant smile and effortless poise, she seemed to glide into the scene like a queen entering her court. She was the star of the family, the golden child who effortlessly commanded attention and adoration. With her striking looks and sharp intellect, she had always been the one to effortlessly charm anyone who crossed her path. Even your past romantic interests had succumbed to her allure, leaving you with the bitter taste of never good enough.
"It's okay, we're sisters," Gabriella would nonchalantly reassure you. "They weren't good enough for you if they wanted me more."
Her eyes, adorned with an air of confidence, locked onto Max, acknowledging his presence with a subtle yet unmistakable hint of curiosity. Bluntly scrutinising Max, she drank him up with her eyes, then she battered her long eyelashes a few times before slotting into the role of the perfect twin sister.
Max, a bit taken aback by the unexpected encounter, met Gabriella's gaze with a polite smile. That was all your sister needed before stepping forward, presenting her hand gracefully, a subtle gesture that belied the underlying power dynamics at play. Max, being the gentleman he was, reciprocated the greeting with a warm shake. However, as the customary exchange lingered for a moment longer than expected, you felt an unspoken tension building.
“Gabriella, but you – my dear – can call me Gabbie.” Her voice sang in the foyer, bouncing so wonderfully off the walls. You wanted nothing more than to leave. Their hands were still intertwined.
Instinctively, you began to withdraw your hand from his left, realising that you were caught in an awkward silence. Gabriella's grip on Max's hand tightened imperceptibly, and you hesitated for a split second, torn between asserting yourself and avoiding a confrontation. Finally, you reluctantly released Max's hand, a subtle concession that felt like surrender.
However, your parents made their grand entrance, drawn by the commotion in the foyer.
Gabriella finally let go of Max. She stepped back, allowing a brief respite from the charged exchange.
Your mother, an elegant woman with an air of sophistication, approached with a warm smile. "Oh, there you all are! We were starting to wonder when you'd make it to the heart of the festivities."
As she spoke, her eyes lingered on Gabriella and Max, a subtle but knowing gleam in her eyes. It was as if she sensed the unspoken currents beneath the surface. Your father, a more reserved figure, stood beside her, observing the scene with a discerning gaze.
"Mom, Dad, this is Max," you introduced, trying to steer the conversation away from the palpable tension that lingered.
With an air of practised nonchalance, Gabriella returned her attention to Max, a playful smile gracing her lips. "Well, Max, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you," she purred, her words leaving an ambiguous trail of intentions.
She tried to grasp his hand once again, but instead, he started helping you out of your coat to keep his hands busy.
Max, still wanting to leave a good impression, responded with a friendly smile. "Likewise, Gabriella. Your sister here has spoken highly of you too," he said, casting a glance in your direction, before he extended a polite hand toward your parents, exchanging pleasantries as he tried to steer the conversation towards the two newcomers in the foyer.
Gabriella subtly positioned herself beside him, a silent claim reaffirmed. The atmosphere remained charged, your parents seemingly ignorant of the intricate dynamics playing out before them. The dreadful feeling returned to you as your mom made eye contact with you once more. You averted your eyes.
Gabriella, seizing the opportunity, looped her arm through Max's, as if marking her territory. "Max, let me give you a tour of this magnificent place. There are so many things you haven't seen yet," she exclaimed, her tone holding a mixture of innocence and mischief.
Your heart sank as you watched them disappear into the lavish corridors of your family home.
“Let them go, honey. I’m sure he will be quite interested in our family’s history.” Your mother commented, foregoing the formality of any other type of recognition or greeting to you as she and your dad disappeared after Gabriella and Max.
Leaving you on your own in the opulent foyer, you wished to leave once more.
Determined to regain some semblance of composure, you wandered into the adjacent parlour, a room adorned with plush furniture and rich tapestries. The soft glow of antique lamps cast a warm ambience, but even the comforting setting couldn't dispel the growing unease. You settled into a chair, the plush upholstery offering little solace for the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. The room seemed to close in on you as you anxiously waited for Max and Gabriella to return. The dreadful feeling intensified with every passing moment, and your mind raced with unsettling thoughts.
Finally, the door swung open, and they entered the parlour. Gabriella's laughter echoed through the room. Max wore a polite smile, seemingly having enjoyed the tour, but you couldn't shake the feeling that Gabriella was orchestrating an elaborate performance.
"This place is quite… something," Max said, casting a glance in your direction as if seeking reassurance or acknowledgement. You tried to smile at him. Gabriella, however, continued to dominate the spotlight.
"We have quite the family history," she replied with a sly smile, her eyes flickering between Max and you. "It's a shame you won't be able to hear all the juicy details."
You forced another smile in response, but the unease gnawed at you. As they settled into the room, Gabriella strategically took the seat next to Max, her gestures and expressions aimed at enchanting him right before your eyes.
The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, a dance of words that excluded you from its rhythm. You felt like a mere observer in your own home, watching as Gabriella captivated Max with tales of the family's past, her laughter ringing like an enchanting melody.
Your attempts to engage in the conversation were met with fleeting glances as if your presence were an afterthought. Gabriella was ever so quick to recapture Max’s attention, despite your valiant efforts to seek a way into the discussion.
Desperate for a reprieve, you finally excused yourself under the pretence of attending to something in the kitchen. As you escaped the room, the weight of the evening bore down on you, and you couldn't shake the sinking feeling that this family gathering had become a stage for a performance in which you had no choice but to play a reluctant supporting role.
In the kitchen, you busied yourself with trivial tasks, the rhythmic clinking of dishes providing a brief respite from the orchestrated drama in the parlour. The tension that had followed you from the foyer to the parlour lingered like an unwelcome guest, and you desperately sought a moment of solitude to collect your thoughts.
As you absentmindedly stacked plates from the dishwasher, your mother entered the kitchen, her gaze lingering on you with a knowing expression. It was as if she could sense the turbulence beneath the composed facade you were desperately trying to maintain.
"Oh, dear, are you alright?" she inquired, her tone carrying a hint of concern.
You forced a smile, attempting to deflect the obvious discomfort. "I'm fine, just needed a moment away from the chatter in there."
Your mother's eyes softened, but there was a glint of curiosity. "Well, I must say, Gabriella and Max make quite the pair. They look so good together, don't you think?"
The question hung in the air, a subtle prod at the heart of the matter. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach as you processed the implications of your mother's words. It was a commentary that cut through the facade you were desperately trying to maintain.
"Oh, Mom, they're just chatting. It doesn't mean anything," you responded, attempting to downplay the situation.
Your mother, however, seemed undeterred. "I don't know, dear. They do seem to have a certain chemistry, don't you think? They'd make a handsome couple."
The weight of her words settled on you like an anvil, and you struggled to find a suitable response. The kitchen, for a brief moment, had been a sanctuary, but now felt like a confessional where you were forced to confront the complexities of your feelings.
"I...I don't know, Mom. It's just an introduction," you stammered, your attempts to maintain composure faltering.
Her gaze lingered on you for a moment, and then she sighed, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You know, sometimes we find unexpected connections in the most peculiar places. And if they happen to find something special tonight, well, we should be happy for them, shouldn't we?"
You felt a surge of frustration and helplessness.
“It’s such a shame his looks just aren’t quite there, but he certainly has other features to make up for it. Wouldn’t you say so as well? Yes, a shame, but Gabriella has always been so kind-hearted. I’m sure she doesn’t mind either.” Your mother continued, before finally smiling at you.
Her message was loud and clear, as she had expressed her approval of Max as a suitable match for Gabriella.
Your mother wanted you to break up with Max and hand him over.
It was as though Max was a commodity to be exchanged, a possession for your sister to play with until she grew tired and moved on. It made you feel sick to the stomach.
“Dinner is all ready, your father just put down the roast on the table.”
You followed your mother into the dining room, the scent of the roast filling the air. The grand table, adorned with fine china and polished silverware, became the stage for the next act in this familial drama.
As you took your seat, Max seated next to you, your parents strategically positioned Gabriella opposite Max. The tension in the room was palpable, and you couldn't shake the feeling that every word and gesture would be scrutinised.
"So, Max," your mother began, her eyes flickering between Max and Gabriella, "how did you find our home? Quite exquisite, isn't it?"
Max, thankfully pr-trained, nodded appreciatively. "It's a stunning place with so much history."
Gabriella's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and you braced yourself for what would come next. Your mother, however, wasn't finished.
"And speaking of history," she continued, casting a pointed look at Gabriella, "our family has quite a rich one. Gabriella, why don't you share some of the highlights? Max might find it fascinating."
“It’s alright, I think I heard enough earlier,” Max told your mom, “I would much rather hear childhood stories about her.” He turned his head, making himself able to look into your eyes, and you felt the dread spread. Despite the way he looked at you, it did nothing to calm you down, knowing your parents would not deliver what Max was expecting to be told about.
Max's genuine interest in hearing about your childhood seemed to momentarily disrupt the carefully choreographed performance. Your mother, however, skilfully manoeuvred to maintain the narrative she had meticulously constructed.
"Oh, Max, you're sweet," your mother said, offering a polite smile, "but Gabriella's achievements are the true highlights. She's always been the shining star of our family."
Your sister, seizing the opportunity, began to regale Max with tales of her academic triumphs, artistic pursuits, and social accomplishments. As she spoke, you felt the distance between you and Max widen, a chasm fuelled by your parents' insistence on casting Gabriella as the focal point of the conversation.
Max, sensing the discomfort, tried to redirect the conversation toward a more inclusive narrative. "I'm sure there are some other stories you could tell, perhaps some that aren’t about Gabriell-?"
“Please Max, do call me Gabby.” Gabriella interrupted Max.
Your mother exchanged a knowing glance with your father before responding, "Oh, there are plenty of stories, but I think Gabriella's achievements are what make our family truly special. Don't you agree, Max?"
Max hesitated for a moment, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. However, not wanting to create a scene, he nodded uncomfortably, "Yes, I guess Gabriella is quite accomplished."
Gabriella shot you a coy smile, her triumph was evident in the subtle control she exerted over the narrative. As the conversation continued to revolve around her, Max's attempts to steer it in a different direction seemed to hit an invisible wall.
Your parents, seemingly oblivious to Max's growing discomfort, continued to extol Gabriella's virtues. The room buzzed with the clinking of silverware and the murmur of praise, all while you sat there, a silent observer of your own family dinner.
As dessert was served, Max couldn't hide the subtle tenseness in his shoulders. He glanced at you, a mix of empathy and frustration in his eyes. Despite the challenging circumstances, you appreciated his efforts to bridge the gap.
When Max tried to ask about your childhood again, your mother skilfully redirected the conversation. "Oh, Max, we can talk about that another time. Let's focus on the present moment and enjoy the evening."
Your sister, seizing every opportunity to keep the spotlight, interjected, "You know, Max, I've always been curious about your interests and aspirations. Tell us more about yourself."
The shift in attention to Max was noticeable, but it wasn't the genuine interest he had hoped for. Instead, it felt like another tactic to steer the conversation away from you. Max, his patience waning, briefly shared short anecdotes about his work, nothing he hadn’t already told to the media. However, his eyes kept returning to you, his fingers intertwined with you. As though you were oblivious to the way your sister's feet – under the table – were trying to urge Max to look at her.
The night wore on, and Max's frustration continued to build, a silent storm brewing within him. The genuine smile he had worn upon arrival had now transformed into a tight-lipped expression, betraying his growing discontent.
Your dad had taken it upon himself to serve a glass of whiskey to him and Max, while your mother brought forth an array of finger foods and other light and savoury snacks. Your family settled around the nice fireplace in the big sitting room, it’s even more extravagant and opulent than the smaller parlour room you had tried to take refuge in earlier in the day.
When your sister, seemingly oblivious to the tension, leaned closer to Max, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "You know, Max, we're so thrilled to have you here. It's not often we get such distinguished company."
Max, no longer willing to play along, shifted uncomfortably on the beige couch. "Thank you for having me. It's been... quite an experience," he replied, his tone carrying a subtle edge.
Your father, still under the illusion that the evening had gone splendidly, raised his glass. "A toast! To family and new beginnings."
Max's frustration reached its peak as his eyes locked on your dad’s raised glass. Max abruptly stood up, the sound of him slamming his glass down echoing in the sudden silence. The tension in the room was palpable as he looked directly at your parents.
"I appreciate your hospitality, but I can't ignore the blatant disregard for your own daughter," he said, his voice measured but firm. "I came here hoping to learn more about her, but it seems the spotlight is reserved for someone else."
Gabriella's eyes widened in feigned innocence, a practised mask that Max wasn't buying. Your parents exchanged uneasy glances, finally sensing the budding cracks in their carefully constructed facade.
"I won't be a part of a charade that dismisses her existence," Max continued, his frustration now laid bare. "If you can't appreciate the amazing person she is, then I want no part in this. Goodnight."
Without waiting for a response, Max pulled you from the couch. As you both retreated from the sitting room, leaving behind the echoes of tension and shattered illusions, you felt a strange mixture of relief and sorrow.
Max led you through the ornate hallways of your family home, the grandeur of the surroundings now feeling suffocating. The air outside was cool and crisp as you stepped onto the front porch, the distant sounds of the night providing a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere within.
He turned to you, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and concern. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect it to be like this."
You managed a small smile, appreciating his genuine intentions. "It's not your fault. Thank you for trying."
Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Your family... it's not what I expected."
You nodded, feeling a lump forming in your throat. "It's never been easy."
"Look, I don't know what's going on, but you deserve better than this," Max said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I'm here for you, no matter what."
As Max navigated the darkened streets, a palpable tension and heavy silence filled the car ride home between you and him. The glow of streetlights cast fleeting shadows across his determined expression, the lines of worry etched into his brow.
You sat beside him, lost in your thoughts, the events of the evening replaying in your mind like a broken record. The weight of the strained interactions with your family weighed heavily on your shoulders, a burden you couldn't shake.
Max glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, breaking the silence that had enveloped the car.
You sighed, your gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. "I don't know, Max. Tonight was… a lot. I’m sorry for Gabriella."
“They shouldn’t have said any of that.” Max ignored your comment, “that’s not- even I know that’s now how you treat family.”
“I’m sorry for Gabriella.” You tried to tell him once again, instead finding his hand reaching out to tangle it into yours.
As Max's hand intertwined with yours, a comforting warmth spread through your fingertips, grounding you in the present moment. His touch was a lifeline, offering solace amidst the turmoil that had consumed your family gathering. You squeezed his hand gently, appreciating the silent support he offered.
Max pulled the car over, letting him turn to you and gaze into your eyes.
"I know you're sorry, love," Max whispered, his voice laced with understanding. "But you can't take responsibility for someone else's idiotic words. Gabriella's actions were uncalled for, and it's not your parents should have stopped it, not… Encouraged it."
His words resonated deep within you, reminding you that you were not solely accountable for the strained relationship with your parents. The weight on your shoulders began to lighten as if Max's presence alone could alleviate the burden.
You turned to him, finally meeting his concerned gaze. "Thank you, Max. Your support means the world to me."
He smiled softly, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what. We'll get through this together, alright?"
A surge of gratitude washed over you, grateful for the unwavering love and understanding Max consistently provided. You squeezed his hand once more, as he pulled out of the ditch.
The car continued to glide through the darkened streets, but the heavy silence had transformed into a comforting embrace of shared vulnerability.
As the glow of streetlights continued to cast fleeting shadows, you realised that it was in the darkest moments that the strength of your relationship with Max shone the brightest. And with his hand clasped firmly in yours, you knew that together, you could weather any storm or awful family dinner.
⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, sorry that it took so long to post this one
#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#max verstappen#mv1#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fic#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#max verstappen x female reader#f1 imagine#max verstappen x y/n#red bull racing#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen drabble#delias own writing
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Batman: Dark Detective # 5
#why... YOU'RE LYING!#WHAT FUN! I WARNED YOU AND STILL YOU LIE!#NoW I gEt tO TORTURE YOU-#scariest Joker.#Englehart's script#Rogers' design and body language.#Workman's lettering.#all of it. ugh.#Skimming back through too the SWAT team trying to storm the house and just all being picked off by the deathtraps and floors is so...#everyone just vanishes with a scream and never seen again. Not even corpses.#Steve Englehart#Marshall Rogers#Batman Dark Detective#I love how BIG Rogers' Joker always was. He has a presence and commands a panel the way not a lot of the other 70s or 80s designs do.
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