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< 500 words, hanpeto.  Hange has a new skirt.

It's late in the evening when Levi mentions it.  He happens to actually be drunk, and considering that he was something of a tank when it came to drinking, Petra was starting to worry about alcohol poisoning.  

"Wouldn't mind if you fucked my ass," he says.  Petra almost doesn't process the statement.  His face is buried in her lap, nuzzling her crotch through the sheer fabric of her skirt as he slurs.  But it was the kind of thing that was hard to mistake, even when she was more than tipsy herself.  Petra doesn't know how to reply, and Levi seems content enough to pass out face down in her crotch not long after.  It was probably for the best.  Though they both might have been in the mood to to fuck, they were likely much too inebriated to actually do it.   In the morning, Petra would be more concerned about not puking her light breakfast up then thinking about that little tidbit nesting in the back of her mind.

It's a few days before Petra gets the courage to sneak a few magazines in the house.  Levi wouldn't be around on account of a business trip, and she could do her research in peace.  Sure, she knew about the back door, but most of her knowledge involved the practical functions of the anus.  She cracks open the first girly magazine with a bright red blush.  She's downed two glasses of wine by the time she's made it through the third magazine, and then it's on to the internet.  At least by that time, Petra's learned some of the proper terminology, and she's gingerly typing the words "how do i peg my boyfriend without tearing him" into the search engine, taking a deep breath before hitting search and venturing forward.  The trip to the toy store on her lunch break is unremarkable; a bored college student offers to help her, and Petra manages to not look too embarrassed or overwhelmed as she makes her selections, feeling so proud of herself that she even buys a new vibrator.  She was going to fuck her boyfriend in the ass so hard.  Or gently.  However he liked it--Petra could adjust.

Putting her new knowledge into practice, though, was another matter.  Petra might not have any qualms about asking for sexual favors, but for some reason, the idea of bending her boyfriend over and fucking him in the ass made her shy.  Asking for herself was one thing.  She had no issue showing whoever she was sleeping with what she liked.  If they didn't want to listen to her, then they could get out.  Levi was always interested in pleasuring her, taking whatever suggestions or critiques she gave.  But telling someone to just bend over took a bit more courage than she was used to in the bedroom.

Finally, after a week, Petra decides it's all or nothing.  Levi had been getting suspicious of the box in the closet, almost opening it in the name of cleaning on more than one occasion.  If he had opened it and asked her why she had purchased a strap-on and birthday cake scented lubricant, Petra wasn't sure she would know how to answer him.  She steels herself one Friday evening, making sure that she grabbed a bottle of port to help herself relax.  If Levi noticed she was getting into the wine early, he said nothing.  There wasn't much room for him to complain, considering how she seemed to be that much more affectionate than usual when they settled down after dinner to watch a movie.  He really wasn't complaining thirty minutes in the movie, entirely occupied with groping Petra's tits while she fondled his cock through the fabric of his pants.

"I'm going to put on something more comfortable," Petra tells him between kisses.  It was a terrible line, and Levi doesn't seem enthused by it.  But he lets her go without much fuss, giving her a light swat on the rear as she rises from the couch.

"Don't be long," he says.  It comes out as a growl, and for a moment, Petra considers forgetting her plans and plopping right back on his lap.  But too much time (and money) had been spent on this, and she hurries to their room.  She at least had the sensibility to read the directions on how to put the harness on and tried wearing it earlier in the week.  She had taken the toy off the second she had caught her reflection in the mirror.  Throwing on a chemise is an afterthought.  Maybe the white lace would help her look a little less awkward?  Levi had always appreciated it when she wore it to bed.  Now wouldn't be any different, right?  

It takes an unnatural force of will to walk down the hall to living room with the strap-on swaying and bobbing as she moves, but Petra thinks that she's acting normally when she returns to the living room.  Levi's attention immediately focuses on her breasts.  It gives Petra a little bit of courage to step closer, letting her hips sway as she nears.  She gets about two feet closer before Levi looks lower, and he curses.  "The fuck is that?"  Petra flushes immediately, very much aware of the way Levi recoils just slightly.  Shit, shit shitshitshit.  Petra's not aware of the way her eyes are watering, trying not to let her humiliation show.  Levi, still sober and always observant, notices and his eyes widen just a fraction.  He rises from the couch in an instant and walks towards her.

"Thought you'd like it--just wanted to try it--"  Petra's babbling, almost blubbering.  Had she been sober, she might have stopped herself, or at least wiped her eyes.  But she's drunk, and she just keeps going, even as Levi wraps his arms around her.   "You said it once, thought it'd be fun, and I read about it, and--" Levi strokes her hair with one hand, drawing her closer with the other.  Petra sniffles, burying her nose in the starched collar of his shirt.  If Levi minds a little snot, he doesn't say anything, letting her snivel in his arms for a moment until she's calmed.

"When did I say anything about that?"  He asks, and Petra mumbles something about the weekend a few weeks before, after Erwin's wedding.  Levi grunts in response, but keeps stroking her hair.  Petra's afraid to look at him, afraid to move too much lest the dildo rub against him and embarrass her more.  After a moment or two, he stops petting her hair, instead taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, guiding her chin up and pressing a gentle kiss on her mouth.  Petra's almost too afraid to kiss him back, but Levi's insistent, tongue gliding against her lower lip.  She lets her lips part, shyly tangling her tongue with his.  It's nowhere near the heated making out they had engaged in early.  It's almost sweet.  Levi pulls away from the kiss first, not releasing her chin.  It forces her to look him in the eye, and she doesn't know what to say.

"Go wash your face and drink some water," Finally, Levi releases her, stepping back.  Petra looks at him with wide eyes, feeling a little stunned as she watches him sit back down on the sofa.  He leans forward, taking the bottle of port she had left on the coffee table and pours himself a glass.  "Sober up before you try fucking a man with that."  Petra looks down, then to Levi, then back down to the dildo.  She had thought it was reasonable, should she have gotten something smaller?  But that wasn't a no, though it wasn't a yes.  A slightly more reasonable part of Petra's mind knows that sobering up would be a good idea now; it wasn't as if there was anything left to surprise him with.  She follows Levi's directions without a fuss, first detouring to their room and changing out of her bedroom attire before going to the bathroom.  She does feel a bit better after washing her face, though her pride is still stinging.

When she returns, now dressed in her pajamas, she finds her boyfriend in the kitchen downing the last of the port straight from the bottle.  If he feels any shame at being caught, he doesn't show it.  Petra doubts he does.  The bottle goes in the recycling, and he hands her a glass of water he had poured for her along with a couple aspirin.  It's a little thing, but it makes Petra smile as she watches him bustle about the kitchen like a proper housewife, taking a moment to wash out the wine glass she used earlier and setting it in the drying rack.  After chugging down the last of the water and swallowing the pills, Petra follows suit.  Levi would grumble if there were any dishes left in the sink overnight, even if it was just a glass for water.  He waits for her to finish washing the glass, and when she's done, he takes the opportunity to move behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.  He's warm behind her, and Petra melts against him.  

"Not gonna fuck tonight?" Levi asks.  There were more polite ways of asking, but Petra's long since used to his coarseness.

"Think I ruined the mood pretty well," she replies with a shrug.  Her head was starting to hurt, and she just wanted to crawl under the blankets and pretend that her ego wasn't feeling bruised.  Levi gives a grunt in response, beginning to rock her gently, swaying between the balls of his feet.  Petra doesn't hold back a soft giggle, letting him soothe her in his way.  After a few minutes, he speaks again.

"I'll make dinner tomorrow," he says as he presses a kiss to her hair.  Petra wonders if that's his way of trying to make up for the evening.  Her notion is quickly dispelled as he continues.  "You'll put on that little dress for me after, and then you'll fuck me face down in the mattress."    Petra's head whips around to stare at him, jaw dropping and just a little speechless.  Levi's expression doesn't change.  "You don't want to?"

"N-no," Petra knows the flush is returning to her cheeks.  That had been a bit more than coarse.  That was dangerously close to dirty talk.  "I just didn't think you really wanted to."  Again, Levi's expression doesn't change.

"I don't want you tearing me a new asshole with that thing.  You get overexcited when you're drunk."  It wasn't untrue, and Petra looks away with embarrassment.  Levi gives her a squeeze, kissing her hair again.   "I'll let you fuck me as long as you like."  A pause, and then, "You didn't get mad and throw it away, did you?"  Petra shakes her head.   It was back in its box.  She hadn't put it away nicely, but it was still there.  "Good."  There's a low tone in his voice that hadn't been there a few seconds before, and it sends a shiver down Petra's spine.  There's another pause, though brief.  She can feel herself becoming heavy in his arms, eyelids drooping.

"Are you going to stay up much later?" She changes the subject, not wanting the previous subject to go much further.  As nice as it would be to have sex that night, she also knew that a headache was starting to form in the base of her skull.

"I'll be there in a bit."  It's not surprising to hear.  Levi didn't sleep well.  He never did.  If he went to bed with Petra, he often would leave a few hours later, puttering around the house for a few hours before joining her again for the last hour or so before the alarm went off.  Petra knows he rarely slept in the last hour, not unless her came to bed late.

Hange catches her by surprise one evening. Petra had been waiting for Eld in the hall--they had been assigned some last minute paperwork and Captain had arranged for them to use one of the unused officer's quarters so that they could complete the job in peace. Petra can see Hange out of the corner of her eye, but she takes no particular note of them. She was more concerned with her squadmate's unusual tardiness. Had he eaten something bad? Did she have the wrong meeting place?

The loud thunk to the side of her head jerks her out of her worrying, registering the odor of a few days worth of sweat and garlic before she realizes Hange is suddenly much closer than they had been before just a few seconds ago. Too close. Petra's cheeks flush and her eyes widen. This was definitely not good--Hange knew they were right in the halls and there were plenty of other soldiers still out and about, men and women bored with their own personal lives and happy to chat about the lives of others instead. Petra would know. She was one of them until just a few weeks ago. They say something to her, garlic and hot mouth smells tickling her nose, but Petra can't hear them over the way her blood is rushing.

It happens one day in the women’s bath; Petra had spied Hange out of the corner of her eye, trying to drag an old, spindly brush through a mass of matted and tangled hair, hissing low complaints through clenched teeth. Petra had just watched at first, morbid curiousity keeping her rooted in place, but a nasty sounding rip drags her from the entryway of the bathroom and to the tub, fingers wrapping around Hange’s wrist to try and stop the violence before any more hair could be ripped from Hange’s skull.

"Squad Leader!" Petra cried, suddenly feeling a wave of empathy for Moblit. Hange turned their head to look at her, smiling cheerfully. "You can’t do this to yourself," she continues, moving to try and untangle the brush from Hange’s hair. Confusion flickers over Hange’s face for a brief moment, but then they laugh, trying to retake the brush from Petra.

"It’s always like this," Hange explains, sounding way too cheerful for someone who had been cursing the knotted mess not just thirty seconds ago. Petra scowls, wrestling the brush away from Hange’s hands and hair, dropping it behind her with a loud clatter. She examines the mess in front of her, brow furrowing as she realized just how severe the problem was. Snarls, mats, and maybe a hairband or two were caught in Hange’s hair.

Really, Petra thinks, it’d be better for Hange to wear their hair short like Nanaba if she was going to let it get that bad. “Do you always brush it like that?” She asks—Hange nods, looking as if Petra had just asked her whether or not titans liked to eat people. Petra sighs, running a hand through her hair. The letter to her father would have to wait for anther night. “Seriously? I’m going to comb and wash your hair,” she says after a moment, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You sound like Levi," Hange replies, turning around to face her. Petra pretended to not hear it, choosing instead to find the basket she had left in the entryway, grabbing a a comb and conditioner from it and dragging a stool over to the side of the tub.

"Turn back around," Petra orders, only belatedly realizing that she was trying to boss around a superior officer. If Hange minds, they say nothing, simply placidly following her command

The evening drags into night, hours marked by the toll of distant bells. Petra hears the nine o’ clock bell, and pays no mind to the ten o’ clock bell when it rings. Hange chatters idly about this and that while Petra works on the tangles and mats, working her way slowly from the bottom to the top, and using conditioner as she needed to help loosen the hairs. Hange’s chatter is only interrupted occasionally with a curse or a whine for Petra to be more gentle. The lanterns are low by the time Petra is finished with the final snarl, letting Hange’s wet hair fall flat around their face. Petra sits back on her heels, admiring her work. She holds back the urge to tell Hange that more men would look at them if their hair was nice; men had never seemed to ping Hange's interests, not even when they all went out drinking together. Instead, Petra tells Hange to dunk her head in the water so she start working the conditioner out.

By the time they're done, the hallways are dark, lit by only the occasional lamp for safety purposes. No one has any business being up at this hour; only the night guards patrolling the halls had any reason to be out of bed. Petra's mildly surprised that no one had come in to scold them, but there had been a few other women coming in and out of the baths. Most likely, word had gotten out that someone was taking care of Hange's bath, and whoever somehow got landed with that responsibility was going to be given a little more leeway regarding curfew.

"I'm done," Petra says after a moment, carefully rising to her feet. The floor was wet, and her knees were sore after kneeling for so long. Hange turns around to face her again, a small smile on her face. Petra flushes a little without realizing it, her cheeks only getting pinker as Hange speaks.

"Thanks, Petra." It almost sounds tired; it's the kind of tone that would normally make the hair on her neck stand on end. Tired was not something Hange did. Drunk, maybe, but Petra couldn't think of a moment that Hange had sounded like that before. Maybe that was the reason she rarely brushed her hair if it exhausted her that much. Petra nods, leaning down to gather her things up, not taking her usual time to properly dry them and put them in the basket before she's standing again.

"It won't take as long if you comb from the bottom, ma'am," Petra says, again feeling like she's breaching protocol. Squad Leader hadn't asked for help, after all. but Hange just laughs, running their fingers through their now straight hair.

~500 words, hanpeto and a fat cat. levi cat inspired by februeruri and oeilvert's art ofc