#alias's

At your frenzy, he chuckled. “Nice to see you too.” Stepping into your place, knocking his shoes of snow, his gaze kindred, “Sorry for showing up unannounced, I just realized, it’s been far too long since we’ve had a date.”

“B-But, you were over yesterday?” We watched reruns and ordered delivery, didn’t we? Err… Was that yesterday?

“Yeah, well…” Armin brought his hand to his nape and displayed a bashful grin, “I was thinking about it, and I think that - to qualify as a date - I am required to change out of my sweats and run a comb through my hair at least.”

A hand on your hip, brows knit, you teased, “And you didn’t think to text me?”

Armin gave a mild, knowing smile, “There was no need.”

Lips parted but speechless. Hands curled to your old wrinkled t-shirt and looked to him, embarrassed, Does that mean I need to change out of my sweats and run a comb through my hair?

Blue eyes glimmered. Like I said, “No need.”

You did anyways.

And it was only your apartment, only a random Sunday, but he had been right: for the first time in a long time, you were on a date again. Chocolates and crosswords. Record player and word searches. Not only doing your best to make a good time, but an added level of competition as you also aimed to beat the other. Using your minds as actively as you had for all the previous semesters you spent together.

Just like your brain felt that familiar feeling, you realized your heart did too. Golden locks shimmering in the sun. Slender fingers and a particular hold of his pencil. Eyes narrowed and attention deliberate on the puzzles in front of him, every so often, they would sneak a peek at you.

And just like you, he felt his heart aflutter, its pace racing again. The rapid descent of your gaze down the page, curiosity brimming. The love of learning. The thrill of studying a page. He felt it within - how he had really found someone who saw the world the way he did. Finally, there was someone that enjoyed his company as much as he did theirs. At last, found someone who could make the hours pass like minutes.

“We should do this again!” You snapped your gaze to him, enthusiasm sparkling in your eyes, “Armin! What do you think? Tomorrow?”

Whatever. 

The word you grounded yourselves with ever since you had gotten this apartment together. A war within: half of you screamed with elation at the prospect of signing a lease together, the other half tried to silence that side. 

Get a grip. Tame your expectations. 

You’ve known him for two years. All that time, he’s never made a move. 

He sympathized with that inner battle, but about your claim that he had never indicated any interest, Levi would argue otherwise. Maybe you didn’t see him enough to understand: the things he did for you were things that he did for only you. Parts of him that he would never offer to anyone else. A hot, seasonal-special latte brought to each of your study sessions. The speed with which he replied to your text messages, especially on the nights before you had an exam. For the insomniac, it wasn’t that taxing on him to stay up all night and help you review. However, with those late nights, he could be doing things much more fun than schoolwork. In his eyes, he viewed it differently: there was no better way to spend his time than being with you, even if it meant that homework played third wheel to your dates. 

Were they dates? Walking you back to your place at night, grabbing a midday snack after class, getting to lecture abnormally early and lingering long after the professor had left the podium. They were everything but dates, and in that way, the moments you shared were both intensely savored yet incredibly addicting. Each interaction reminded you how saccharine a relationship would be, and upon parting, you suffered painful withdrawal. Sky-high times together were followed by lonely lows that dragged you back down to reality: you two were not a thing. The only cure was to see each other again, after which, separation and its accompanying hurt were inevitable. A convoluted cycle that repeated day after day for semesters on end, that was where you stood.

As to where he stood now, the white tile corner shower of your Jack and Jill bathroom. See-through tempered glass, his bedroom door, your bedroom door, the front door to your shared apartment, and however far away you were - at this hour, it should be English class - were the only physical barriers between your body and his. In this square enclosure, he imagined that you were in there with him - that the hand around his length was yours instead of his, that the drench that coated him came from you rather than the showerhead. After many iterations of this vice, he had found the temperature that could make that fantasy feel most realistic. Dew along his entire figure, in his imagination, it was not the hard city water, but exerted sweat from the good fucking he would give you - was giving you - in his fantasy.

Admittedly, the first times he imagined you, his desires had been much more carnal. Your body was unlike any he had seen: absolute perfection. The curve of your waist, it was magnetic, the way his fingers yearned to trace it. High-waisted jeans to tight leggings, at times convinced that you had chosen them just to tease him. Evident here and now: it worked. That ass, he would squeeze until his knuckles went white. Your breast, he would pinch until you whimpered. Bruises along your neck and scratches up your back would shoo away all other college boys. They wouldn’t give you what you wanted anyways. 

Then, he got to know you. Over the partner projects, through the late nights, and then there was the lease and all its fated collateral. You were a quiet and clean roommate, that was all he could have asked for, but you were so much more. His history kept his hopes humble, you were the first thing that had gone truly right in his life, each encounter a reminder. Levi would always pursue them, even if it meant driving his 2010’s sedan through a thunderstorm to save you the couple blocks of walking in the rain. Times that he agreed to accompany you to those silly campus events - the ones you were too shy to attend alone, the ones that had nothing interesting to offer him apart from more time with you. Theater, he found insufferable and cheesy, but sitting beside you in darkened silence made his heart pound in ways that he could not resist. The art history seminar you were curious about, you made him promise to enroll so that you would know at least one of the students in the class. How you had tested him then - he had always had a hard time falling asleep, but staying awake during that three-hour discussion was far more difficult. Even when you volunteered yourself and voluntold him for a campus compost initiative, Levi did not say no - though there were some filthy swears under his breath when he found himself in dirt - or dirty thoughts. 

Levi always seized those opportunities to accompany you, no matter how dreadful the activity was, but he supposed it was all worth it in the end. Having become your default go-to, when it came time to find a roommate, you clung to him all the same. There were the practical aspects of living together. Someone to split the bills with. Grocery shopping for two was easier than cooking for one. Levi knew how to shut up the faulty smoke detector. 

You threw his laundry in with yours and vice versa. 

Those logistical perks paved the way for the true benefits to come. In storms, you trusted him more than your weather app, always knocking on his door or finding him in the living room. Levi’s even tone and calm look kept you assured all the times that rain, hail, thunder assaulted your 700 square foot apartment. Consciously, he would poke fun at that anxiety - Seriously? You’re scared of the weather? Need me to tuck you in and sing you a lullaby or something? Not insulting, but an understanding nature to his methodology - that if you heard him cracking wise in a situation, you would recognize that the situation itself must not have been that severe. 

Keeping up with the hype, you always insisted on watching the newest horror movie. Levi would cross his arms and ask, You sure you want to? Just as consistently, you would nod quickly to try to convince him - Levi wished you could know yourself as he knew you. Slashers were so predictable that he was tempted to nod off - sleep a better use of time than this nonsense. However, the way that you inched closer and closer to him throughout the runtime, the pitch of your shrieks at the jumpscares, and the way your body flinched against him - they killed his boredom. Starting at opposite ends of the sofa, as the movie went on - your knees typically landed across his lap, his hips sandwiched by the backs of your thighs and your heels. His still figure and solid muscle quelled your nerves. In addition, he used his ability to predict the plot to throw his hand over your eyes at just the right times. You never tried to peek through his fingers, but would ask him to tell you what was happening on screen. Blonde baseball boy tried to get his friend’s attention. Bad idea. You can figure the rest. Throughout the movie, he would chastise the characters for their poor decision making. For the particularly stupid moments, he would clutch the sides of your shoulders, look you in the eye, and test you. Just as you would not be able to sleep from the nightmares this film would give you, he would not be able to sleep without knowing that he had taught you right. Someone is chasing you. Do you hide in the closet or scream for help? 

A reversal of your storm dynamic: you would meet his intent with playfulness: I point them to your room and make a run for it.

Levi tucked his lip beneath his teeth, internally parsing. He concluded that if it came down to it, protective adrenaline would probably propel him to victory in that fight, in addition to his lived experiences. He also concluded that he did not need to share that history with you yet. 

This would never be shared, the years of this shameful showertime ritual. He could only imagine the face you would make if you ever found out… 

No, fuck that! Levi grounded himself with his most reliable thoughts, his go-to scenarios, the ones he had come to more times than he could count.

It was with a gentle sigh that Levi admitted to himself that, yes, he was thinking of you. The subtle curve of your smile, the smell of your perfume, and the touches that would drive you crazy - the thoughts he had imagined all too well. Levi dove deeper into your image. With you for every occasion, he had seen you in every outfit, could imagine you in any outfit. Hell, at your own request - he had handled each of your bras and panties. All of your intimates - you would beg him to handwash them for you, because he was so much better at it. 

“Fuck…!” Hand cinched, his fingernails slid into the grout between tiles. Levi’s imagination clung to your laced lingerie: two fingers pressed down the middle of your panties, standing peaks cast shadows on your bralette. Toes curled into your comforter. The back of your hand thrown over your forehead. Back arched up off your mattress, hips rolling in search for release, the one he would give you. Moaning for him. 

Levi… 

He dreamt about catching you in the act. Through the bedroom door you would have purposefully left ajar, crescendoed calls of his name would invite him inside. Eyes rolled back in bliss as you thought of Levi, they would snap in his shadow and freeze at the sight of him. Leaning against your door frame with his arms crossed. His body language would suggest neutrality, but you were fluent enough to read its underlying intensity. The slightest smirk paired with his dark gaze. 

You called? So engrossed, he nearly said it aloud. 

Please… begging for him, I need you…

“Need you…” subconsciously, he spoke to himself, immersed in this scene - the one he indulged hundreds of times before. Drenched and entrenched by the indoor downpour and its bad habit.

His hands would prop themselves beside your head. One swipe of his tongue over his lips before they rained down on you. In the kiss he had longed for, he would consume all of you. Teeth gnawed on your lower lip. Tongue deep down your throat. Determined to savor the taste. Short on breath, you would moan into his mouth.

Levi… 

Your sigh would cast a current on the cusp of his ear, luring him down your body. Caressing your curves, tracing your outline - from your middle, his movements massaged his name past your torso, lungs, throat. 

Levi! 

Along his flexed calves, your ankles would drag. Along with your clenched hands, that grip at last brought him to your core. Levi teased you between your thighs: his smolder and your damp, their complements nearing reach. 

“Please -” his true voice coincided with your conjured yearning. The more he contributed, the more real this felt. His words ran without barriers. Reality blurred, inhibitions now imaginary, “I’ve wanted this…” 

Waited for this…

“…so long!”

Hands warm, dripping with scalding water and overstimulated sweat - in his mind, they were yours. Slender fingers tightened around his tip. The jerks in his wrist accelerated, propelling him further into his favorite mindfuck. His hand was clawing at the shower wall - taking hold in your sheets. The showerhead - your heat - made the steam that blazed his skin. A thousand raindrops, your sandpapering of his composure, stroked each nerve. 

Shamefully familiar sensations ascended, dopamine dripped down. Magnetized - they met at his hips, where involuntary rocking complemented the oscillations of his left hand. 

“Ah! Shit…” Choked on his own curses, “Fuck me!!” Levi recognized he had no control at this point, helpless to his own masochistic physiology. Knees buckled. Tendons strained. Arms weak, yet their pattern of pumping was impossible to halt. Threatened collapse and imminent climax - thrown over the edge. His hand fucked him at an unbelievable pace, one that only nature could incite. Only you could incite.

Objectively, this was all his own doing, but in his headfuck, this was all you. Nothing, no one had ever done anything like this to him - made masturbation this mindblowing, compelling him to climax several times a week. You had poured dosages down his throat, but took the bottle to your room. You fed him crumbs, but never the whole cake. Like glitter, passion fell through your fingers and into his palms. However, without your presence, he had been driven to handle his desires himself. 

“Fuck…!!” His gasps and moans echoed throughout the room as he finished. Hand pushing back dark locks, your name tumbled from his lips. 

And you, home early, could only reply, "Levi?"

// // //

This unit had obliterated you. Nearly every sentence from this romantic classic set your thoughts down a contrived trail: all roads leading to him. When typing your thoughts to post to the discussion board - was it really a coincidence that you always ended up tabbing out and texting him instead? Each time that the characters kissed, there was one pair of lips that came to mind - neutral in shade, more smooth than chapped, and let crass speech spill freely. Unconsciously placing him and yourself in their shoes, you found yourself yearning for the romance to succeed. 

Wait. Which romance? 

Eight weeks into this term. Less than half of the chapters left to this novel. The build-up of the protagonists’ relationship was nothing compared to the history that you and Levi had, yet they were already fucking. If it worked for them, why couldn’t it work for you? 

Because it’s fiction, darling. 

Your inner monologue’s newest phrase. You had grounded yourself with it innumerable times, had even said it aloud on some occasions. Their open-heart conversations. The vivid descriptions of their first kiss. The symbolism and imagery in how they made love - that had been the topic of today’s discussion. Inspired by, but nearly disregarding what the author penned, you projected your own details. The boxers were probably black, because his were. The blend of their sultry whispers must have tasted like loose leaf and spearmint, his and your favorite teas, respectively. When he propped himself above her, atop his navy comforter, it must have been steel eyes through black bangs that met her gaze. 

You had no idea what Levi would be like in that scenario. That was where you appreciated your author’s creative freedom. Nibbling her ear, tongue tracing her neck, painting her body with praise - yeah, those would all be nice. If you closed your eyes and stilled yourself - quiet enough to hear your own heartbeat - your imagination could project his voice into your perception. 

“Fuck…!!”

Daydream interrupted - alarmed hairs stood on end as you walked past the bathroom. Untethered volume and exasperation to that voice, now calling your name? It sounded… real?

There’s no way you heard that right. Regrettable excitement in your tone, “Levi?” 

No response – only a few more moments of water rushing, the squeak of the shower handle, the click! of the glass door being pushed open. Intensely standard sounds diluted your hopes and urged you to run to your bedroom. Rather than sit there and dwell on it - until he stepped out to find you right outside his shower.

Of course that wasn’t Levi… That scream was far too passionate for the deadpan stoic. Your imagination’s gone wild. 

Stepping out from his steam chamber, soles of his feet chilled by the bathroom floor. A few headshakes, the water that remained fell from his locks and slid down his neck until they met the towel tucked at his hips. Hot and cold. Wet and dry. The last waves of his climax were flushed out by the overwhelming contrasts, a shaky yet relieved sigh followed. It could have confirmed that you did indeed hear him correctly, for that exhale was extremely post-coital. 

But he always made that sound when he came out of the shower…

Must just be one of those days. You sighed, cursed your curiosity for the characters’ romance, and began to undress.

There was only one way to recalibrate your perception. Over the years you had known him, you had tried everything you could think of: long runs to cold water, cramming vocabulary to binging shows, touching grass and touching yourself. Only your last resort could bring you to that grounded clarity. Reminded that you were not a thing. Reminded that there was more to your world. In that state of mind, Levi occupied each of your thoughts. There were no classes, only a freshly shaven undercut. Meals didn’t matter, you only needed to nibble at his lip. You forgot how to hold a pencil, but were certain that you could hold him with both hands. 

“Fuck…!” you mused with surrender, recognizing the position you had found yourself in so many times before. Head to your pillows, but makeup still on. Plush comforter met your skin, but you were atop it, not beneath it. In sleep, you kicked around your sheets, unaware of their configuration - but in this afternoon sun, each fold of your ironed sheets was visible, and they smelled like him. 

Index and middle pressed together, fingertips and knuckles wedged in your slit. Through the cotton stretch, your arousal was tangible, forcing the fabric to stick to your skin, the damp touch sent a shiver. God damn, you mused, this had been building up even longer than you thought. 

Hand slid beneath the band of your bra, you imagined it was his, and cupped your curves. You squeezed tighter, just an inkling that he would be the type to do that. Palm fierce on your swollen bud until it could take no more - arm bent backwards and clutched your pillow. Heels jutted into your mattress, granting your hips the leverage they needed to dance with the hand down your middle. Willfully, you sank yourself into blissful ignorance. Lips called for him, further indulging your fantasy, “Levi…”

You projected the image onto your own eyelids: black, like his hair. Blue veins ran down the forearms that he would use to hold himself above you. His tongue hot, breath cool, the combination simultaneously drenched you in sweat and sent chills through your entirety. Watching you writhe with yearning, a bite of your lip would anchor you to his strong figure. The confidence he would take you with, all so non-chalantly, it was as if he had done it a thousand times before - and with how often you relied on this scene - a thousand was a reasonable estimate. 

“Please…” a third finger added to your motions, “I need you…” 

Left hand continued to play with yourself. Right hand grasped at all it could reach. A familiar tide came rolling over your shoulders, down to your belly. A wave of pleasure painted your thighs wet. Your breathy sigh melted into a moan, “Levi…”

Shins moved sporadically. Cool linen sheets began to burn up with friction: legs squirming, hips grinding. Head to toe was aflame. There was only one way, one man, that could extinguish it. “Levi!”

Past the tipping point. Only thirty more seconds for your libido to have complete control over you. It seized the reins selfishly. Fuck all else. Your headboard began to crash against your wall. The hushed whimpers of his name heightened - enough to shatter the glass of water on your nightstand. Had you even shut the door?

In that half-minute, you could not keep up with all the sensations that ran through your nerves. You could not even count them. The dull ache in your wrist was noticeable, but drowned out by the surge of pleasure that had encompassed all other joints. Your mindset went from savoring these precious moments to enduring them. 

“Please -” you begged your fake partner - your actual roommate, “I’ve wanted this…”

Wanted you…

“...so long!” 

Hands trembling. Voice screeching. Thumb circled your clit as the rest of your digits dipped into your ravenous core. Back arched off of the mattress, inadvertently pushing yourself further down those slender fingers. Your deepest insides were twitching and swallowing. Simultaneously drowning in unbelievable euphoria, but still pleading for more - for the real thing. 

No, shut up! “Fuck me…” you sighed. Just let me enjoy it!

You clung to his low moans until they transformed back into your own recovering gasps. You longed for his calloused hands to mark you, but were met with merely your own soft skin. Your lips had gone dry, mouth agape for this long, but his tongue was not there to kiss and replenish. At your side, there was neither dirty talk nor an open heart to converse with. 

If you wanted that, you’d have to get out of bed, get that sex look off your face, and cross your fingers that he’d be in the living room. 

Not pillow talk. Sofa talk.

But he was not in the living room. Nowhere near the sofa.

He was in your apartment, but in a new setting. Toweled off just enough, he flicked the bathroom fan on and made for his room. In the hallway, the sliver of light coming from your cracked door caught his eye. Levi smirked to himself, funny, he had just thought of that twenty minutes ago. Not even two paces past the bathroom door, though, that fantasy was further realized. A high-pitched, familiar voice, Levi knit his brow and tilted towards your bedroom. Angelic sounds, the carpet silenced his shifting feet. Before he could regain himself, you snared him. Climactic hints culminated in the stumbling of his name over and over. 

Louder and louder. Undeniable evidence. Until then, he had written off all of the suggestive sounds that snuck past your bedroom. The growls that made his knees weak - you must’ve been frustrated with a group project. A heavenly sigh that felt sinful to listen to - probably unwinding after a full day of power lectures. 

But this - his name, in that tone, and that many times… Of all of the moments that should’ve done it... When you celebrated his birthday with a homemade dinner and dessert, that would’ve been a fairytale. The times that he held your hand to hold you back from tears, romantic comedies would plagiarize. The tender, heartfelt, platonic memories you shared were so plentiful, but none of them had made you a couple. In order to open his true feelings, it had to be the most secretive and unspeakable way for mutual interest to be voiced.

Levi gave a slight shake of his head, a single lighthearted exhale, at the thought of you two trying to explain how you went from friends to lovers. 

I had been thinking of her in the shower. It became routine.

I used to daydream about him in English class, then touch myself when I got back to our apartment.

We hadn’t even kissed yet. 

// // //

On a typical night, you would eat dinner together, or wind down with a show, or at least ask the other how their day was. This one was spent unlike all others. Each of you had locked yourselves in your room. You stared out your window. He drummed his fingers against his cheek. Toiling over this new and intimate information, parsing over the ways to address it. More than once, you checked yourself and eagerly returned to the memory. So certain about what you had heard, but so curious about the things you could not see. Lofted by imaginations, blood began to rush back down again. Enough glasses of ice water and enough breaths of fresh air tamed those lightheaded recollections. 

If you could get this right - 

Just don’t fuck it up -

- You would never have to imagine that touch. 

- You could have the real thing.

At 2 AM, Levi sauntered down the steps, finding your bag against the front door. With two fingers, he tucked the notecard into your backpack.

Heard you calling for me. 

At 10 AM, he was in class. You put your ear against his bedroom door, and when you were confident that he was not there, could not be disturbed, and would not be there to confront you immediately, you slid the stationary over his threshold. 

Keep the door open next time.

// masterlist //

You were effortlessly beautiful and always pristine. On most days, he should’ve been the perfect match for you, but if you saw how fervid he could get in the summer - his chances of a relationship with you were hopeless.

Levi tilted his head back and sighed, how wrong he had been about that. 

That one day last summer, fate or Erwin - depending on which of you was asked - had brought you to the same assignment. Supervising the recruits’ morning training, just standing there in the shade, it shouldn’t have been that hard. However, that particular combination of humidity, hot temperatures, and the sultry air between the two of you had him drenched long before the shift was over.

Despite his sweltering state then, your interest in him did not cool down. That evening, as he was heading home to shower, he found a short but sweet note, a jar of talcum powder, and your signature placed particularly on his doormat. It was then that Levi realized that you cared about him, and he had a feeling that he knew how much. The next several months, you both took small steps to understand each other’s feelings and convey your own. A box of chocolates for your birthday. A tin of tea leaves at the end of each winter week. A kiss, then a longer one. Nights spent together, then weeks. And now, pinning him to his bed.

Levi closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. That day, he thought he had repulsed you. That evening, you let him know that you accepted him. Tonight, you wanted him to know just how much more there was to it. 

Hands snuck beneath the cotton top that you had hiked up to his collarbone. You pressed your palms to his pecs and massaged them in a slim radius with deep, infatuated pressure. Smooth skin slicked in sweat caused your hands to constantly slip from their hold, arousing yet agitating. Keeping him in place, your torso met his front as you propped your chin on his breastbone. As you continued to knead him in your hands, your wrists inadvertently teased his sensitive patches. Head nestled, you laid your cheek on his chest and stared shamelessly. Breath cool on his dampened skin, you admired how his peaks steepened as you spoke, “You’re so flushed… sweating from top to bottom…” Concern in your voice was inflated, teasing. Again, that smile painted itself across your face and aggravated him so perfectly. “Is it the weather, or something else?” 

With his standard composure, he would have rolled his eyes at your obvious self-indulgence, setting yourself up for praise. Just as he opened his mouth, prepared to deflect with snark, you pushed your lap down to his. Your timing deliberate - his reaction leaked through parted lips. Though you continued to grind, squinted eyes and clenched teeth tried to bring him back to coherence. Through a half-lidded wink, Levi asserted, “Record high, isn’t it?”

“Hm, yeah…” you tipped your index to your lip, overacting, and countered, “But that wouldn’t explain all the wet I feel down here…” You wiggled your hips until his length was wedged below the strip of your panties, the only barrier between your dampening passion and his warm precum. 

Levi bit his lip and tried to avert his gaze, an attempt to hide his tell. Battling within himself - continue to be humiliated like this or bring you back down to earth? His flickering eyes allowed you to spectate that fight. If he looked away, he could get a grip of himself. But at the same time, how could he not stare? You were so clearly enjoying yourself - a blissed out look on your face, the rock of your hips accelerated - it made it even harder for him to hide his enjoyment. Voyeuristic satisfaction as you watched him struggle between pride and pleasure - all worthless in the end: no matter his facial expression, his hips don’t lie. 

Hands snapped to the sides of his traps. Fingernails scraped his undercut. By that hold, you turned him this way and that way, allowing you to have your way with him. Bites on the cusp of his ear. Lipstick outlined the path from the cut of his jawline to the tendons that stood from his neck. Yanking his collar down, saliva swiped at his clavicle.

In trying to wear him down, though, you were drowning yourself as well. Hardened member forced your wet folds and dry lace to meet, layers of friction overstimulated vulnerable nerves. Hands desperately anchored to his shoulders in your endeavor to regain the stability that you yourself had worn out, but they only allowed him to sense the trembles in your arms and the twitching of your fingers. Eyes rolled back in your head, Levi let a smirk slide by, realizing that his desire was not something he had to fight, but indulge. In that way, your command would continue to weaken and control would be his - your composure in the palm of his hand, his goddamn horny mess wrapped around his finger. 

Feet ground into the mattress, Levi arced his thighs and calves to lift himself from the bed and solidify the marriage of your bodies. Hip bones punctured your inner thighs. Muscled V smooth against your pressed clit. Through his canvas pants, he could feel your warm wet start to seep through. Levi huffed, “You are filthy…”

Your hands were shaky as they fumbled for his belt. Loud clangs as you freed the leather out from under the metal buckle. A sudden snap as you tore at his button. The sound of a zipper’s rapid pull had become an aphrodisiac. The damp, spreading patch at the tip of his bulge drew a habitual lick of your lips. Maybe he was right, maybe you were disgusting, but the regiment’s neat freak still slept with you night after night. He knew what he was in for. Over his cotton briefs, you traced your tongue along his shaft and swirled over his head. When it rose to your mouth, you snickered, “And you love it.” 

He didn’t object, but merely bunched his fists in the sheets at your sides. Smiling, you beckoned, “Show me how much.”

You had hardly uttered the last syllable before you found yourself on your back. Whiplash intense - for a moment, you forgot which way was up. Flipped around, your head nearly hit his solid wooden footboard, but in Ackerman’s arms, you had no need to fear. That was what you told yourself as his shadow overcast you, lip twitching. Dilated pupils had pushed his irises to the brim - his gaze completely dark. Lake blue eyes had disappeared, dyed by lenses of black ink. Insane? Maybe.

“And you’re sure you’re ready for that?” His face was impossible to read. Crimson cheeks contrasted with his flat lip. Beads of sweat contradicted the idle in his gaze. His eyes scoured your body, craving confirmation of what he already could read. Hardened peaks at your chest stretched your t-shirt fabric thin. Your sex was so thirsty, underwear nearly disappeared between your folds, your pussy’s vain attempt to swallow. Levi bit his lip and salivated, “You can handle me?”

You couldn’t handle him, but that was the point. A man on the brink, singed by the sun and ignited by his lover. Ferocity personified - you wanted to be consumed by him. Just one more drop of fuel, you threw your hand in his hair and tugged him to your front. Eyes locked, you dared him, “Get on with it.”

Consumed was how you had phrased it. Devoured was more accurate. Jaw stretched, Levi slid your neck between his teeth. Tongue flickered against the sensitive skin. Where his mouth could not reach, he grabbed with his hand. A pressure just below the choke point. Thumb massaged the lump in your throat, calloused fingertips swooped to your nape. Levi noticed that your skin felt startlingly dry - but it forced him to reconcile that he himself was just that soaked. He grit his teeth, annoyed - an annoyance that flared his actions. Ultimately, you were his reprieve. 

Levi ripped your shirt off and dove to your chest. He pinched your nipples and turned them as if they were faucet handles, the ones that would release the quench to his thirst. Hickeys left, sucking you vigorously, like a pour about to overflow out the glass, audibly salacious. Levi drank you down as if you were the last water on earth - the oasis in his desert. The sight of your arousal spilling out your panties and onto his sheets was such a waste, he pulled the garment to your ankles and used his length to fill the space where it had been. Swollen cock hardly fit into your cunt, but was the perfect fit to stop your flooding. Eyes fluttered shut, head tipped to the side, relaxed and relieved that your fluids were reserved for him. Repletion refreshed. You arched your brows at the irony: as he coated himself in your juices, his sweat dripped down to you - consistent, heavy, surrounded - as if you had been caught in a rainstorm. The most crass water cycle.

“Mm, babygirl,” Levi moaned into your ear, “so wet...” 

Could say the same to you. A sweaty, leaky mess of a man.

Each admiration of your arousal was accompanied by accelerated thrusts. The thought of you dripping for him was enough to make his drive surge, but then there was the feel of you: a block of ice down his back, the first swig of water after a long hike. your walls squeezed him nearly too tight, but it made withdrawing that much more satisfying. Incentivized to rinse and repeat. 

As his dives went deeper and as your sex sought satiation, the sound of your slams reverberated off the walls and throughout the room. You wondered if the rest of headquarters would hear. Levi was in too deep to care. Even as your gasps and screams heightened, as his mattress springs bounced, as his bed frame scraped the wooden floor beneath and rammed against the wall - the insinuations of these noises were useless to him. If anything, he longed to sustain their symphony. 

His sweat came in drops at first, but now, your bodies were melting together. His susceptibility to heat made temperatures contagious: each fuck he fed you was fuel to the fire in your core - its embers sizzled, frying each of your nerves. Soon, you would explode. If not soon enough, you would burn out before you could experience the high.

The fucking grew faster, deeper, more powerful. Metrics approached the particular combination that always unwound you - the one he had meticulously memorized. A card he kept pocketed to induce your orgasm. This time was the first that he did not consciously whip it out, but rather, you had forced his hand. Knotting your ankles at the indent of his spine, knees hugged at his waist. The breathless, pathetic attempts at his name, how fucking good you felt. As your lover, he would say it was to make you feel good, to watch you feel good. For Levi Ackerman, it was to fill you up with his seed and make you limp in the morning, reminding any passerby who you belonged to. 

You threw your hands past his traps and dug your nails into his shoulders. Infatuating yet infuriating: his skin was so slickened that your hands could not secure him, but instead slid down his figure. By your legs, enveloping yourself around him, clinging to his body as if your life depended on it - finally, you had set him up for mocking revenge, “You just can’t get enough, huh?” 

Purposeful or not, you couldn’t tell and you didn’t care - his pace and strength were considerately merciless. Your speech was nearly incoherent now, but Levi had grown fluent in your vulgar dialect, “Levi, Levi please!” You arched your back off the bed and squirmed, straining to push yourself further down his length. “M’Make me… Let - Ahh!! - Let me…!” 

Levi rolled his eyes and spat, “No shame at all…” In that same breath, he aligned his arm with your spine and gripped your nape in his opposite hand and snatched you to a seat on his lap. It should have been hard for him to fuck you like this, but the ravenous chase of your climax and his evolutionary need to cum in you freed him from resistance. Muscles began to pulsate with how much Levi demanded of them, but they held out, knowing that they would soon be relieved by an all-consuming, otherworldly pleasure.

Sweat encased both of your bodies, it was no longer discernible where yours stopped and his started. Arousal filled your cunt and coated his cock - your lubrication and his anticipation had blended. Two became one. It was only natural that the climax would be shared as well. The ripple of his flexing muscles expelled into your core, your middle rhythmized to swallow all he had to give you. Ringing ears, sharp inhales, shaky exhales - nearly all sensations were felt simultaneously and endured longer than either of you were used to. Cycled back: Levi drained himself to fill you, but was replenished by your gratitude - the pour of your cream doused his body. Soaking wet all over, yet both of your throats ran dry. Your gasping was unbelievably high. The husk in his voice sank him by octaves. 

Comedowns were mirrored in one another. Your hand cupped the crown of his head - with the little control you had, you convinced your arm to work past its twitches and comb his hair back in order. Levi tipped his forehead to the inflection between your breasts - warm breath and dishevelled bangs tickled your tummy. Oh - Levi, fuck, fuck me shuffled and repeated until the two of you could see again, hear again, breathe again. 

Fuck again.

Levi propped his hand behind him and used it as a pivot, rolling himself over and throwing your back to the bed. You giggled at first, but when that determined look from earlier revived, you shivered, “Wh-What are you doing?”

Levi cocked a brow and swiped his tongue against the bottom of his top teeth. “I thought you knew -” he growled, “I’m the type to save the best bite for last.”

You hadn’t even come down, but he was already scaling back towards your peak. Clammy hands clamped below your mid-thigh and hoisted your legs up - the top of your foot and kneecaps both visible, head over heels. Even though you had been together for many months, this angle was absolutely shameworthy. There was no way to hide, but you had seen him in that state long ago - for all that time since then, this was always what he sought in return. Propped like this, all of you on display, you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment. Now, it was your turn to sweat. 

Thumb started at the bottom of your crest and slowly slid up. After tracing your right side, his thumb would apex at your clit, press, and give a few slow, strong rotations. Then, reflected on your left side. Pattern repeated until the ache of your eager bud was visible. Inner folds massaged until they were arid enough to crave his mouth. When your arms autonomously reached down, fingers threaded in his hair - before you could pull him towards you, Levi dove in. 

Eating you out, drinking you down - strategy was conveyed in each of his movements. Tongue plunged past your entrance and licked along your curves and ridges. Scraping your walls, when the unspeakable jam pooled on the tip of his tongue, he viciously gulped it down. The way his veins rose in his neck constantly communicated that he craved more and savored the taste. You never thought he would, in fact, he was the last person you would expect this from. You dipped your head back into his pillow and sighed, perfect pleasure but also the fine memories of all the times he had performed on you before. Levi consumed you like candy, his goal always to let you know that he was first in line for your flavor. At the same time, he was the last person you would predict to eat you clean after the act, but he was the first person you would anticipate it from. Head spinning, he could tell: steel eyes gazed up to you and solidified your understanding. His mouth was occupied, but for you to know how much he enjoyed this - words were not needed, perhaps even insufficient. The white-knuckle grip of your thighs, the crude slurping sounds, the involuntary and instinctual thrusts into the mattress, and the reawakening solidity that you could sense - there were no words for them, nor the pleasure you felt. No lexicon could do his oral justice. 

You settled for the loving yet fierce caress of his head, silently encouraging. Your moans begged him to keep going, but your angelic sighs took the choice away from him: he could not help but chase another. He would do anything to hear you like this - the amplitude of his desire could make everything feel like nothing. The taste of your syrup on his tongue - sugary sweet positive reinforcement, he had been conditioned to salivate. From over the tops of your hips, his long, slender fingers met at the top of your opening and pulled you apart, making space for his stern brow and straight nose to join the play. Each time he came up, you noticed more and more of his facial features glossed with your arousal - no, it was his, too. His white outlined his eyebrow. Your clear turned his rosy cheeks into a bright, illuminated red. Now and then, he would pull himself away yet angle himself specifically so that you could watch him pinch his chin clean or lick his lips pristine again. 

The sight of him turned your vision hazy. You struggled to make out - was that a smile or did you imagine it? Was he getting drunk off this or was he inebriating you? Your mind sprinted between a thousand theories, searching for the most desirable among them. Heartbeat accelerated, sex throbbing - physiology prevented your ability to arrive at an answer. All at once, he was everything, your everything. 

It may have been the most unexpected place for such a sentimental epiphany. Fucked out, filled with cum, overflowing onto his face and down his throat - maybe it was just overstimulation, but you felt yourself choke up, tears threatening to dawn. The way that he loved you in all of your ways and for all that you were, how he praised you when you were most vulnerable and grounded you when you were most riled - your cunt hummed, your heart sang. For as long as you could remember, from that very first sweltering day, Levi had become your world. The way that he fucked you, ate you, and treated you reciprocated: you were his world, too.

Your whole body was shamelessly displayed, but the reassurance you saw on his face and felt through your sex gave you the confidence needed to cum. Cum, Levi was about to encourage it or demand it - whichever would get you off in that second - but your release interrupted him before he could ask for it. Your sudden jolt forward and its accompanying, startling cry caused him to momentarily flinch, but he strengthened his hold and gifted you the stimulation that always got you there. Tendons rose from his hand. Forearms flexed hard. Fingertips curled into your skin, trembles shared. Teeth scraped your sensitive skin. Soft tongue was quick to soothe. Each wave of your pleasure, he gulped down eagerly. Finally, an enamored sigh, he had found the cure for hot summer days: a hot summer night in bed with you.

As you thrashed in orgasm and whined in ecstasy, Levi carried you through all that you felt - as he always had - in good and bad. Warmth flowed throughout your bloodstream, cooled by both of your exertions: a return to endurable temperatures. Breaths regular, heart rate standard. Nearly all of your body was blissed, but the sting of nerves that had endured two rounds with Levi Ackerman - they demanded to know why you had such unrealistic standards for them. No one could be expected to take him twice in one night, but that was just one of the traits that kept him crawling back to you and between your legs. You took him in and accepted him like no one else could or ever had.

Just how much the heat got to him, the hot mess he perspired into - those weaknesses had been revealed to you despite his long standing endeavor to hide them.

How you longed to drown in his sweat and saliva, the kinky disposition that was unparalleled and unbound - you had grown comfortable enough to disclose your desires to him, for him. 

How filthy you could get with each other - that was a secret best kept shared. 

// masterlist //