LEVI LIVED BITCHES

He’s not going to lie, you really are good at maintaining the cleanliness of the shop. You even donated potted plants to make the shop look appealing and a phonograph to play classical songs in the background, bringing color and life to the place. It’s only been six months since you started, yet you’ve already brought so much life to the shop (read: to his life), so much more than he ever could and would. There’s not one bad thing he could say about you, not one reason to fire you. You need not be told what to do, always ready to greet the customers with a smile (something he isn’t good at), prepared to help them choose which tea to drink (which, to his surprise, you know a lot of), serve orders right after they’re made, and clean up after the customers left. You’d wash the used teacups without being told, wipe them dry, and organize them on the overhead cupboards just the way he prefers. It didn’t take him long to realize he’s been watching you (and enjoying it) from behind the counter all this time.

And you are so, so good at making him feel good. So fucking nice to look at when you’re on the ground and between his knees, your calloused fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking him slowly while you suck at the head. He forces himself to look at you, eyes half-lidded, his cheeks a faint red, and it always catches him off-guard, makes him choke out a gasp, when he finds you already looking at him. A hum escapes his throat at the sight of your smile around his cock, his eyes rolling back so hard when your lips wrap around his head.

He breathes your name out, setting his eyes on you again. “Go deeper,” he murmurs.

You prop yourself up with your forearms on his thighs, careful not to hurt his knee. He grabs at the shelves on each side of him, gripping so hard his fingers turn white, still unable to make himself touch you with his disgusting hands. You let go of his cock, and he chokes out a moan, head hitting the jars on his back when you take all of him into your mouth, deep down your throat that your nose touches his stomach and you twitch and gag on his head. A sharp pain tears through his knee when his hips buck up in reflex, thrusting his dick further despite already hitting the back of your throat. You pull back with a loud gasp and an admonishing laugh that makes him sigh out another cuss. Levi watches you caressing his thighs. You’re staring back at him, tongue stuck out and pressed against the frenulum of his cock, your hands momentarily sliding up his pelvis and under the fabric of his shirt while his cock disappears into your mouth once more.

“Fuck—” he utters weakly, body shuddering as his cockhead hits the back of your throat.

He can’t believe he’s once again allowed himself to be this pathetic disabled man so easily reduced to a whimpering mess by a girl fifteen years younger than him. How can he let you do this? And in his tea shop, for that matter! How can he disgrace you and his little tea shop?!

How the heck are you so good? How the heck do you look so fucking good with your mouth around his cock?

“Fuck,” he sighs, thighs shaking, the coils in his belly starting to tighten. Your fingers wrap around his girth once more, stroking him while you kiss down his length, earning a twitch from his cock and a stream of pre-cum leaking from the slit. “I think I’m—”

“Please, Captain,” you cut him off, smiling prettily. Knowingly. He loves it when you call him that, you can tell. Even when he says he’s not that person anymore.

“Shit!” His toes curl in his shoes.

You grab at his hips, bracing yourself as you take him back into your mouth. He cries out a moan, and when his head hits your uvula and your throat tightens around him from another gag, the coil in his stomach finally snaps. His body shudders as a huge wave of pleasure takes over. You pull back slightly, fingers immediately wrapping around the base, stroking him hard and fast while you suck the cum right out his twitching cock. Suck harder and his soul might also leave his body. Levi bucks his hips once, twice, and stops when the pain in his knee becomes too much. He lets out a whimper, though he’s unsure if it’s because of the pain, or the pleasure, or the desperation to fill your throat until you’re choking on his cum. You giggle around him, eventually pulling away once he’s finished. Levi lets out a breathy sigh, tired yet very satisfied, as he watches the movement in your throat when you swallow.

Smiling, you wipe the corner of your mouth for a little show. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he answers, breathless. “Are you?”

You nod. “Felt good?”

“Yes.” No doubt about that.

You stand up. He straightens up in his seat when you begin to unzip your pants.

“Brat,” he utters, alarmed. He knows where this is going. You’re going to ride him next, and it wouldn’t even take him five minutes before he’s cumming again.

With the boots you’re wearing, you struggle a little to step out of your pants and underwear. It’s one of the things he likes about you: the not-so-fancy clothes or dresses (not that he’s going to ever say that out loud—at least, not yet).

“What?” you chuckle. “A good soldier should be rewarded, right?”

“Yes, but—” The words die in his throat when you sit on his lap. His hands immediately find your waist, keeping you still.

You lightly poke his nose before draping your arms over his shoulders. “Never had a girl go head over heels for you when you were younger?” A rhetorical question, one you always ask when you’re doing this with him. You know he would’ve had a line of women vying for his attention. You’re sure he was famous not just because he was Captain of a squad. Even until now, despite the broken eye and the scar on his face, he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes upon.

But Levi sighs, quietly as if he doesn’t want you hearing it. There’s a sad smile on his face, almost regretful, that you would’ve missed if you aren’t looking closely.

“I didn’t know,” he says, thumbs lightly brushing your hips. “With the threat of titans and all the fighting to survive, I didn’t have time for such things.”

Your shoulders drop. Levi lost half of his life battling monsters because of your people. Because of you. You begin to wonder how he could keep you with him at the shop. By his side. You can’t understand how he could still look at you so gently like you weren’t someone who killed his people during the war.

A gentle squeeze on your hips pulls you back to reality.

“You’re in there again,” he murmurs knowingly.

You shrug it off, then respond with a coy smile, “well, now you’ve got all the time in the world.” He only hums, and you take that as a positive response and begin rolling your hips, rubbing your wetness against his cock. “And we’ll make every second of it count.”

His hands trail up, staying at your waist. “I’m too old for you.”

You pause just to click your tongue at him, as if scolding a child. “Only I get to say that.”

“It’s true though,” he insists.

Pressing your foreheads together, you resume rolling your hips into his. “Fifteen years isn’t a lot.” You place a chaste kiss on his lips.

“You do know how much fifteen years is, don’t you?” he chuckles.

A loud knock from the main door startles the two of you. Levi glances at his wristwatch.

“They aren’t supposed to be back in another hour!” you cry out, pulling yourself away from him. “Ugh!”

Gabi’s shouting outside, calling your name and Levi’s. You quickly put back your underwear and pants on, glancing at Levi as he pushes himself up from the chair. You hurry over to help him pull his pants up to his waist.

“Go. Tell them we’re stocking up the shelves.”

You look over at the boxes of tea, none of which are open.

“Five minutes.” You close the door behind you.

Levi straightens his clothes and starts unboxing, get things moving even a little bit. Outside the stockroom, he hears you asking the trio how their days went, making small talks. You discuss your plan for dinner, a little belated celebration for Falco’s birthday. It doesn’t take long before Gabi’s asking about Levi while walking towards the stockroom. 

“Hey, old man,” she calls over to the man in question, who has just opened the second box. “Let’s get going! It’s the weekend!”

“It’s only Friday,” he answers.

“Friday night,” she points out.

Levi glances at his watch. “Ten minutes to four.”

“Come on, Grandpa,” Gabi chuckles, rolling her eyes. “You need to relax sometimes!”

Huh. He does need to relax after what you’ve done to him. He could still feel his heart hammering in his chest after his last orgasm!

“I’ll just finish this second box,” he answers with a sigh.

“Falco’s gonna help with the rest of the boxes!” Gabi volunteers, turning to the boy in question. “Right, Falco?”

“Of course,” he answers in a “do-I-get-a-choice” sigh.

Thirty minutes later, your group heads out to a steakhouse downtown, where you wait for another half hour before a table big enough to accommodate your group is cleared. You each get a steak meal, fruit juices for the kids, and a bottle of wine for yourself, Levi, and Onyankopon. A simple celebration. Quiet, but a happy one. Gabi recounts memories when she and Falco were still with the Warriors, birthdays they celebrated with Udo and Zofia. There is bitterness in her voice even though she’s smiling through her stories. You hate reminiscing. There’s nothing nice to remember when you were still in the military, not when the only friend you had died in battle. It was your fault after all. He may still be alive if only you didn’t run away. He may still be alive if you took him with you when you ran away.

You have been selfish. You still are, choosing to show up before Levi everyday despite knowing you were once with the people who made their lives a living hell.

“So, tell us what you’re grateful for, Falco!” Gabi’s voice pulls you out of your thought bubble.

You glance in Levi’s way, realizing he’s watching. He must’ve noticed you zoning out, knows what thoughts are in your head. You look away, pretending to stir your wine.

Falco’s reluctant for a moment. “Well… I am grateful that we are all here and that you remembered my… my birthday,” his voice cracks, tears clouding his vision. “It’s been a while since we’ve celebrated this peacefully.”

“Aww, you’re such a cry-baby!” Gabi teases. “What else?”

“That’s it,” he sniffles.

“That’s it?!” She complains.

“A-huh. Your turn.”

“What? It isn’t my birthday!”

“It isn’t, but the birthday celebrant wants to hear what you all have to say too,” Falco says with a chuckle, looking at each of you across the table.

Gabi smacks her forehead, earning a laugh from Onyankopon, who volunteers to go next. He says he’s grateful for the food and that he got a job to keep himself from starving and to keep a roof over his head. Then, he passes the spotlight to you.

You know what to say but somehow, the words won’t come out. You don’t want to ruin the mood, but besides the fact that you get to do whatever you’re doing with Levi—which, you obviously can’t disclose to anyone around the table—the only other thing you are grateful for is that…

“...I ran away,” you say, almost inaudible. Then, you look up, meeting Levi’s eyes, and in a louder voice you continue, “if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here with you all. What I did was a disgrace, but I’m glad I did it.” You swallow, remembering your late friend. “Somehow,” you added shakily, unsure suddenly, shame immediately eating up your insides.

“You still fought,” Falco points out. “And you kept us safe. Remember?”

“Mhm!” Gabi agrees eagerly. “You looked after our families!”

You nod, although weakly, as if you aren’t convinced yourself.

“None of you kids should’ve been there,” Onyankopon adds.

There’s a bitter smile on your lips when you turn to him. “I’m no kid. I’m twenty-five.” But you understand him. You were nineteen when you were conscripted. No one at that age should’ve experienced being in the frontlines of war.

“You did what you had to do to live,” says Gabi. “We all did.”

You shrug, turning back to Levi. “Not so good a soldier, am I?” 

He doesn’t answer. You know he thinks otherwise. He always tells you what you did isn’t wrong. That you should’ve had a choice back then.

He holds your gaze for a moment, and knowing it’s his turn without you having to voice it out, he says, “I’m grateful that we are all here celebrating.”

“Come on, you can do better than that,” Gabi protests.

Levi looks at her, unbothered. “Your turn.”

Gabi purses her lips. And then, she sighs and smiles softly. “We made it out alive.”

“That’s it?” Falco counters.

“That’s it!” She raises her glass of juice. “Cheers to us!”

That’s something you all easily agree with. Glasses raise and clinks together for a toast to what’s ahead and to the birthday celebrant.

They’re right. What matters is you being here. You are alive. What’s done is done, and you only did what you had to do to stay alive. You will forever bear the guilt of running away, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy anymore.

The day ends sooner than you would’ve wanted. You and Levi part ways from Onyankopon, Gabi, and Falco, whose houses are in the opposite direction. You pull your coat tighter around yourself, closing the space between you and Levi after looking behind you to confirm the trio are out of eyeshot. You shove your hands into your pockets, kick at the thin sheet of snow that covers the ground, before latching onto Levi’s arm.

“So cold,” you chuckle.

“Take my scarf.”

You squeeze his arm. “I’m good. Thank you.”

The two of you walk in silence, side by side, until you finally reach your house.

Standing at your doorstep, you turn to face him with a shy smile. “It’d be nice to have someone to cuddle with on this cold night.”

“Just ask, brat,” he says with an eyeroll and a chuckle.

You open the door and take his hand. “You should come in.”

And he does, closing the door behind him. You kiss him slowly, your cold hands trailing up his chest and hooking over his shoulders. It’s so quiet all you hear is the sound of your lips against his, none of his breathing nor yours, for time seems to have stopped and with it your lungs from needing air. He is your oxygen, your blood. Everything you need. He gently wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. Pulling away slightly, you smile at his pink cheeks and smoldering eyes.

“Stay for the night,” you hum, touching his cheek. Warm. They feel so nice against your fingers.

“We both had drinks.”

“Nothing will happen,” you promise.

You both know that’s a lie.

You take his hand and turn to face… the stairs. “Shit. I forgot.”

“I didn’t.” He squeezes your hand. Reassuring. “Go start heating water. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I can still walk, brat,” he points out, no heat in his voice.

You let out a little cheer before placing a peck on his lips and then heading upstairs.

He steps out of his shoes, pushing them aside by the main door, which he makes sure is locked before following you upstairs. Levi tries not to be negatively affected by it, but it still takes him almost a minute to climb just an eight-step staircase. Forty six seconds, to be exact, for just eight steps. For fuck’s sake.

He’s not the kind of man you should be with.

When you come out of the bathroom, you’re humming to a song, dressed in just your plum sweater and underwear, walking into your room to get a pair of sleepwear for you and Levi. He takes a moment to catch his breath and lets the burning sensation in his knee subside. You always remind him to be patient with himself. Healing and recovering takes time, you always say, and you’ve always been patient with him even when he’s too much of a burden. You deserve better.

But he can’t leave you. Whatever it is he feels for you, he feels so intensely, he can’t bring himself to walk away.

“You good?”

He lets out a deep sigh. “Yeah.”

You hug the clothes and towels against your chest and take his hand, leading him to the bathroom. You help him undress, unbuttoning his trench coat, taking his shirt off, then his slacks, underwear, and socks. He watches you fold them neatly on the counter before starting the shower, letting the water run for a few seconds until steam fills the bathroom and clouds the mirror. You help him step into the bath with you, enjoying a short moment of comfort under the hot water that pours over your heads and down your bodies. When it’s time to bathe, he leans back against the wall while you scratch his hair to wet it thoroughly. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why he doesn’t want to go: he likes how you take care of him. He likes this kind of affection.

It feels so nice he wants time to stop so he could be with you for as long as possible. You always make him feel that way.

Maybe it isn’t so bad to want to be cared for the rest of his life.

He places his good hand on your back, the one with complete fingers, letting it sit at the top of your bum. You take a step closer, right thigh between his thighs, so close that it rubs against his cock whenever you move. He keeps his eyes glued to yours. You stare back, a ghost of a smile curling your lips. You know what you’re doing to him, what each barely-there contact does, sending jolts up his belly, rousing his body from sleep. The first twitch comes when you scratch at his undercut, and he barely manages to suppress the moan that escapes his mouth.

“Don’t tease,” he groans, and you only laugh. A bit late for that, because by the time you’re done washing the soap from his body, his cock’s already up.

“You sure you don’t want to?” You ask with a lilt in your voice.

No. He swallows down the word and says, “let’s not waste water.”

You chuckle. “Okay, gramps. Your back, please.”

He turns around, hands pressed on the wall for support. He notices the holes. 

“What are these for?”

“Oh…” you hesitate, but you know there’s no point in keeping it from him. “I was going to install handrails for you to hold onto at times like this.”

His lips part, but nothing comes out of his mouth. Why would you do that? Why would you go through such lengths for him?

You pull closer, pressing your body to his, arms wrapped around his body. “Don’t you like it?” You ask, thinking his silence must’ve meant he disliked the gesture.

“I— I do… I appreciate it,” he forces out. “But you didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” You place a kiss at the nape of his neck. Your left hand inches up his left pectoral, while the other takes his cock and starts stroking it. “It’ll help especially when I do this.”

“Shit—” He murmurs your name.

“Hmm?” You twirl his nipple in your fingers, pulling at it to stiffen. “How about this? Do you like it?”

“Y–yeah…” So much that his knees almost give out when your fingers focus on the head of his cock, stroking deliberately in a circular motion.

“I knew you would,” you murmur with another chuckle, pressing your thumb against the frenulum and then dragging it up the slit, drawing out some precum. That also pulls out a whimper from him and causes his hips to jerk back, which, unfortunately, sends a sharp pain down his bad knee.

Levi says your name in warning. You pull back with an apology.

Fuck. Fuck! He should be the one apologizing.

He shifts his weight on his other leg, but the discomfort in his knee wouldn’t go away.

You grab the soap and start cleaning his back. “Sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You did not.” He turns his face to look you in the eyes.

That brings a smile to your lips as you continue to wash his back, all the way down to his legs and feet. He still can’t believe how you’re patient with him, how you make things so much easier for him without asking anything in return.

How did he get this lucky? Does he even deserve this? Does he deserve you?

When you’re done with his back, you ask him to face you once more so you could wash his front thoroughly. He turns without a word, then pulls you into a hug.

“Oh,” you chuckle, hugging him back. For a moment, it’s just the sound of the shower that can be heard until you look up at him to ask “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says, even when all he wants to say—to ask for—is that you never get tired of him. “Do you have the rails? Let’s install them tomorrow.”

You smile widely, and it steals his breath away.

When he’s all rinsed, he steps out of the shower to start drying himself with a towel. He watches you wash the shampoo off your hair, his heart swelling with emotions while thoughts race in his mind. He wishes he could do the same to you: wash your hair for you, scrub your body clean, fuck you under the shower, make you cum with his fingers, make you cum some more with his mouth (and his cock, if only his knees could handle his weight.)

He wants to be better for you, but he knows he can’t rush himself to heal. He does have to be patient with himself like you are with him.

“Did I forget anything?” you ask, realizing he’s still in the bathroom.

He shakes his head and starts getting dressed. “I’ll wait for you in bed.”

“Be there in a few minutes.”

Levi prepares the bed for the two of you—that’s the least he could do. And when you finally join him fifteen minutes later, he no longer stops you when you pull his trousers and briefs down and then lay on your stomach between his legs. He watches you closely as you kiss his still soft cock, nuzzling the head with your nose before taking him and stroking him with your mouth, so slowly until he’s hard as a rock and he comes. He doesn’t stop you when you mount him (he does choke out a ‘wait!’, but doesn’t get the chance to ask if you still have pills because you’re already taking him back inside you with your other set of lips). He doesn’t stop himself when he grabs your waist gently, a reminder that he’s got you should you get tired. He doesn’t stop you when you lean forward, pressing him down on the bed with your hands on his chest, as your hips move fast and your moans grow louder, more desperate, even louder, until you’re a twitching and whimpering mess on top of him.

And he doesn’t resist when he says he’s cumming and you tell him to do it inside you.