#very beautiful art in this please...please...check out...for her..

Your favorite part of the day has always been dinner time. The dining hall always gets loud, exhaustion loosening everyone’s tongues so laughter spills easier and smiles come brighter. It’s usually the same thing every night—Sasha trying to barter food from everyone, Eren and Jean arguing about something stupid and menial again before Mikasa cuts in and threatens to kick both of their asses, and Ymir showering Christa with love and affection. 

You’re halfway through your stew, watching how Mikasa has slowly been moving the carrots she doesn’t want into Eren’s bowl while he talks too passionately to realize it. Your conversation had somehow shifted from your last assessment scores to which superior officers would be easiest to flirt with. Not exactly the most appropriate conversation, but hey, it should be expected of a group of twenty-something year-olds.

Jean suddenly snorts into his cup and says, “Captain Levi is incapable of being flustered.”

Connie barks out a laugh. “Captain Levi? Yeah, no. I think if you flirted with him, he’d just tell you your posture was shit.”

“He might blush if someone compliments his cleaning,” Sasha says.

You laugh at the thought of Levi turning pink over you complimenting his polishing of the floorboards. It’s almost charming. But you’re pulled back into the reality of things quickly, reminded by the sure fact that Levi would be the type to make you run sixty laps for even breathing wrong in his direction. At least he would look irritatingly beautiful barking orders at you.

“Maybe he just needs someone hot to compliment him,” Connie says.

Ymir, sitting beside Christa with one arm draped over her shoulders, rolls her eyes. “Please. That man could walk through a brothel and find the mop sexier.”

The table erupts into laughter. Armin drops his face into one hand, already checked out of the conversation. Christa turns scarlet but presses her lips together, very clearly trying not to laugh. Jean wheezes, and even Mikasa lets out a small, polite laugh. You shouldn’t laugh as hard as you do, because if Levi heard your conversation right now he would probably bury you all six feet under.

Then Eren, who has never met a stupid idea he couldn’t charge at headfirst, leans forward with bright eyes and says, “Someone should test it.”

You pause, nervously playing with the charm of your necklace. Jean is the first to look at you. Then Connie. Then Sasha. Then Ymir, a little more wickedly.

“No,” you say immediately, because you know that look, and you know yourself. “No.”

Jean grins. “Come on.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re the only one who could pull it off.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.”

“You say things to the officers that none of us would ever say,” Connie points out. It would be rude if it weren’t true.

“Maybe you could only do it for a week?” Christa offers.

“A week?” you echo, already feeling the dangerous little spark of interest light inside you. The worst part is that they’re not entirely wrong; you are bold, you are blunt, and you have secretly spent far too much time wondering what it would take to make Levi Ackerman’s perfect composure crack, even if only by a little. “You’re giving me a week to flirt with humanity’s most emotionally repressed man?”

“Get a reaction,” Jean corrects.

“Define reaction,” Armin says.

“Blushing counts,” Eren says.

“Stammering counts,” Jean adds.

“Looking away counts,” Christa says.

“No it doesn’t,” Ymir scoffs. “That could just mean he hates you.”

You cock your head. “To be fair, I think he does hate me.”

“He hates everyone,” Mikasa mumbles.

“What if he flirts back?” Armin asks.

Eren scoffs loudly. “Captain Levi? Flirt back? Be serious.”

Your stomach twists at the thought. You can’t even imagine Levi doing anything as human as flirting. But what if he were to step a little too close, lower his voice to a smooth cadence, fix his eyes on yours and then your lips and then smash his mouth against—

Nope. You’re not going down that mental road again.

You set your spoon down and touch your necklace again. Everyone is watching you intensely. The best move here is to refuse. It’s the most sensible move. Captain Levi isn’t a toy for your entertainment. Making a game out of a man who can kill Titans like swatting flies is going to land you in deep shit. You know that.

And yet, you still smile. “A week?” you ask, leaning back with a confident half-shrug. “Give me three days.”

Jean’s grin widens. “That confidence is exactly why we picked you.”

Ymir snorts into her cup. “No. We picked her because she has no sense of self-preservation. And she’s a fucking idiot.”

The worst part is you can’t even argue with that. Game on.

.

Day one, you begin with too much confidence and nowhere near enough strategy, which, in hindsight, is probably the natural consequence of accepting a bet over dinner while surrounded by idiots.

You see Levi just after breakfast, walking through the corridor with a stack of reports in his arms. He looks somewhat more annoyed today, but because Eren and Jean are watching from around the far corner—not very subtly, might you add—and because you refuse to lose your nerve on the first attempt, you slow your steps just enough to pass him shoulder-to-shoulder and say sweetly, “You look good today, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t stop or look at you. He doesn’t even blink in a way that could potentially be considered meaningful, unless you’re desperate enough to start seeing romantic symbolism in basic human functions now. He simply keeps walking, the scent of his soap trailing behind slapping you in the face. You’re left standing there in the middle of the corridor with your mouth still curved into a smile. Meanwhile, at the end of the hall, Jean presses a fist to his mouth to stop himself from laughing and Eren mouths, Nothing?

Nothing. Not a twitch, not a glance, not even a disgusted little sigh. Fine, you think, watching Levi disappear around the corner. Eren and Jean shoot upright and pretend to engage in conversation, though it’s horribly broken and awkward from what you can hear. The moment Levi’s footsteps fade, Jean shoves Eren’s shoulder, and Eren shoves him back.

First shot missed. Happens to the best of us.

.

By day two, you decide subtlety is the coward’s way.

You happen to run into Levi again in the supply closet. While you’re searching for a specific cleaner, the door opens behind you and he steps inside. Suddenly the cramped room seems to shrink even further. There’s barely enough space for both of you to stand without brushing elbows. He doesn’t acknowledge the fact that you’re so close, naturally. 

Instead, he reaches past you for a rag on the shelf above your shoulder. He leans close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. Your muscles lock momentarily. Damn him for being so attractive. Still, you manage to tilt your chin up and say, “Careful, Captain. Any closer and people might start talking.”

He pulls back and looks at you. For a second, you think you’ll get something. A stammer, a blush if you’re lucky, but Levi only looks unimpressed. It’s the exact same look he gives soldiers when he manages to find a speck of dust after three straight hours of cleaning.

“People already talk,” he says flatly. “Usually because you give them material.”

You swallow a laugh. Damn him. You lean your shoulder against the shelf, trying not to focus on the fact that your pulse has just spiked dramatically. “Oh, we can give them plenty of material.”

Levi takes the rag, steps back, then leaves.

.

By day three, you’re beginning to suspect the bet is cursed.

You’re gathered in the yard for ODM training. Your friends have formed a not-so-suspicious circle across the field. You see them gathered with a false innocence, sneaking glances at you, favoring the potential spectacle awaiting them over doing anything useful.

You check your gear and realize one of your straps at your thigh is loose, the buckle hanging awkwardly against your leg. Before you can crouch down to fix it yourself, someone approaches.

“Hold still,” Levi says.

You’re almost embarrassed by how quickly you obey. He crouches in front of you and grabs the loose strap before you can object. There’s nothing intimate about it, nothing that should make heat rush to your face—and yet it does. You look down at his dark hair and the concentration on his face and think to yourself, this is fine. This is normal. He’s just fixing your gear. You’re not going to die.

Then you remember the bet. Now’s your chance.

“You always this good with your hands, Captain?” you ask, nervously toying with your necklace.

Across the yard, Connie visibly folds in half. Eren grabs Mikasa by the sleeve. Sasha’s mouth drops open. Levi tightens the buckle with one tug and looks up at you, his expression so blank it’s almost hostile in a way.

“Only when someone’s done a shit job and I have to fix it,” he says.

You stare at him as he walks away, unaware of the others across the yard silently screaming into the void.

.

By day four, your pride is no longer bruised. It’s limping, bleeding, and asking whether anyone saw the driver of the carriage that hit it. 

You’re cleaning one of the common rooms with a scrub brush in hand and a flicker of annoyance in your heart when Levi comes to inspect the progress. He steps inside, surveys the floor, the windowsill, the table legs, underneath the tables, and even the door handle.

“Do it over,” he says.

You slowly turn your head toward him. “Excuse me?”

His gaze flicks to the windowsill. “Dust.”

You look behind you at the window. Tragically, there’s dust. It wouldn’t matter to a normal person, but Captain Levi is far from normal when it comes to cleanliness. “You’re very hard to impress, Captain,” you say, forcing your voice to carry a teasing tone instead of something that makes it clear how badly you want to throw the rag at his head.

Levi looks at you, and he doesn’t look away. Standing under his intense gaze like this makes your stomach clench in ways you don’t even want to think about. “And you’re very easy to ignore.”

Your smile twitches before you can stop it. That one stings a bit more. You know Levi isn’t above personal insults, but were you really that forgettable to him? You manage to muster up a bit more courage and say, “You know, I’m more skilled in other areas.”

Levi only quirks an eyebrow and tilts his head. That was enough to pull him in, it seems. Success. “How so?”

You smile, because finally, you’ve found the opening. “You’re not the only one who’s good with their hands.”

Silence. Such deep silence that you could hear a pin drop. Levi holds your gaze for exactly one second before he says, almost bored, “Knock it off and get back to work.”

And just like that, he moves on with his day, leaving you standing in the room with a rag in your hand, a burning face, and a grim realization that you may have underestimated both his composure and his commitment to making you feel like an idiot.

.

The moment you sit down at dinner that night, Connie leans across the table and hides his mouth from the view of the superiors’ table with his hand. “Nothing?”

You drop your head into your hand. “Nothing.”

“Not even a blink?”

“He has eyes, Connie. He’s going to blink,” Mikasa says without looking up from her bowl.

Sasha groans and slumps dramatically over the table, one hand still clutching her apple. “We’re doomed.”

You groan too, louder. “No, just me.”

Jean makes a sympathetic noise that’s ruined completely by the fact that he’s smiling. “You still have three days left.”

“Three days to accomplish the impossible,” Eren mumbles.

Armin, kinder than the rest, tilts his head. “Maybe you need to adjust your approach.”

“My approach is fine,” you say.

“Your approach is dogshit,” Ymir says.

Christa gives you an almost apologetic smile, which makes you feel even worse. You stab at the softened carrots in your stew with one hand and toy with your necklace with the other. Every time you touch it, you remember your mother’s hands in yours, the cold metal in your palm, her soft words wishing you safety and prosperity. You long to see her again. Soon, you think. Soon.

You force yourself to not look toward the officers’ side of the hall, where Levi sits with Hange and Erwin, drinking tea without a care in the world—as if he hasn’t spent the last four days ignoring your best efforts. It should be funny. It was funny, at first. But now his lack of a reaction has begun to get under your skin, turning challenge into irritation, then irritation into a feeling that’s far more embarrassing, because it’s one thing for Levi to ignore the flirting and another thing entirely for him to make you feel like he’s ignoring you.

It’s personal now, you decide. 

.

Levi thinks this is the most irritating week of his life, by far.

It’s not distracting enough to matter, and certainly not enough to affect his work, but it’s definitely irritating. And persistent. You are persistent. You’re always there. In hallways, in supply rooms, in the training grounds, always pushing and pushing, waiting for him to break at the seams. 

Levi doesn’t crack. He’s survived this long by being difficult to shake. Still, he thinks about it—about you—more than he should, and that annoys him the most.

Levi walks into the stables. Hay bales are stacked neatly against the wall. The tack is all lined up and organized in the storage room. He’s only searching for a harness clip, nothing more, because apparently grown soldiers can’t keep equipment where it belongs. He barely passes the first row of stalls before voices reach him from the far end. He recognizes them. Eren, Jean, Armin. Levi stops before they see him. 

“Told you,” Eren says with a hint of smugness. “Captain Levi doesn’t flirt.”

Levi’s brows shift by the smallest degree. 

“She still has two days, Armin says, a little quieter. “And honestly, he’s been looking at her more than usual.”

“Looking annoyed doesn’t count,” Jean laughs. “He looks at everyone like that.”

Levi freezes for a moment, then swallows. Then Eren speaks again, painfully unaware of the grave he’s digging with both hands. “Doesn’t matter. The bet was to make him react. She’s been flirting with him for five days and he hasn’t done anything.”

Levi doesn’t know what to feel at first. Then annoyance practically slams into him. Of course the sudden compliments, the lingering looks, the suggestive comments delivered with too much confidence and nowhere near enough survival instinct are not lapses in judgement but a coordinated effort by the loudest collection of children to ever survive to adulthood.

He almost steps out. He almost makes them regret every syllable. He almost assigns all three of them stable duty until their hands smell permanently of horse shit. He almost leaves to go find you and drag you into his office and inform you that if you have enough free time to treat your commanding officer like a tavern dare, you have enough free time to scrub every inch of the barracks.

But he doesn’t. He remains where he is, half-shadowed beside the tack shelves, and thinks of you when you were in the supply closet with him, your chin tipped up and your mouth spilling smooth words you clearly expected to land, of the flash of irritation in your eyes when he refused to give you anything back.

So, you’ve been trying to break him in front of an audience. Bold. Stupid. And mildly interesting. You want a reaction from him. No. More than that. You want proof that he can be moved, that there’s something you can reach underneath all the discipline and deadpan remarks if you’re reckless enough to keep trying.

Fine. Let’s see how well you handle it when he stops being polite.

He turns without a sound, leaving the missing clip for someone else to find and the three idiots still talking at the far end of the stable, none of them aware that the terms of the bet have just changed.

Two days then. If you wanted a reaction that badly, he could give you one.

.

Day six begins badly, which, considering the trajectory of the week so far, should not surprise you. The morning vanishes beneath papers and one disaster involving Connie dropping a crate of replacement gas canisters. You’re on the last thin shred of your patience. By the time late afternoon rears its ugly head, you’re tired and hungry, having spent five days throwing stones at a wall. You’re considering whether you should just run headfirst into it. But you can’t give up. That would be mortifying. Also Jean would never let you hear the end of it. 

So when you turn the corner into the east corridor and nearly collide with Levi himself, you decide the universe has not abandoned you entirely. He stops before you can hit him, and you catch yourself with one hand against the wall, your heart giving a stupid little kick as you look at him. He looks as he always does: composed, mouth set in a flat line, irritatingly clean despite the hour. 

Fine, you think, dragging your confidence up by the collar. One more time.

You let your smile come slowly, forgetting how the last few days have been consistent public humiliation. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me, Captain.”

Normally, this is where he would keep walking. Normally, he would ignore you and tell you to find something useful to do. But Levi stops beside you, close enough that the corridor feels smaller, close enough that you can smell the last cup of tea he had still lingering on his lips. He turns his head, eyes meeting yours from the side. Your smile falters.

“Why would I?” he asks. Your breath hitches—stupidly. The words themselves are nothing, barely a response, but it’s the way he said them, in a way you’ve never heard from him before, that makes the world stop for just a single second. Then his gaze drops, briefly, and he says, “You wanted my attention, didn’t you?”

You forget how to answer. Your mind produces absolutely nothing. You can’t find a single comeback or tease. You technically got him to react, and you should be celebrating, but you can only focus on the fact that Levi has just taken the same game you’ve been playing all week and held it against your throat.

Before you can recover emotionally, he turns and walks away. Just like that. 

You remain there, your hand now nervously touching your charm necklace, staring at him while your heart nearly explodes out of your chest. The worst part isn’t that he answered, but that he answered like he knew exactly what it would do to you.

No. Absolutely not. This is not happening. You are the one flirting with him. You’re the one with the bet, the plan, the reputation for saying things no one else dares to say, and Levi is supposed to be an immovable force. He is not supposed to look at you like that. 

And you are not supposed to feel this way in return.

.

Dinner approaches, and you almost manage to convince yourself that you imagined it. 

He was probably being sarcastic. You’re tired and frustrated and maybe starvation has you seeing seduction where it doesn’t exist. Levi’s voice is always low, his eyes are always intense, and your imagination just lost its grip because you’ve spent too many days thinking about him. 

The mess hall doors open onto chaos. Everyone is trying to leave and enter at once. Soldiers are pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in the crowded corridor, laughter and complaints tangling with the clatter of dishes from inside. You’re caught near the doorway, half-turned as Jean calls to you from the table and Mikasa waves to you.

You start to step aside when you feel a hand settle at the small of your back. Levi moves behind you, close enough that his chest nearly brushes your shoulder as he guides you smoothly out of the flow of traffic. His palm rests low on your back for a moment longer than necessary. Your lungs practically stop working.

“You’re in the way,” he says. 

You turn your head, because apparently you’re feeling particularly self-destructive tonight and want to look directly at the weapon killing you. You find him already watching you. Your mind tells you to take the mercy of silence and leave with whatever remains of your dignity.

But because your survival instincts are apparently the worst and will always lose to your mouth, you say, “You always touch your subordinates like that?”

His hand slips from your back, his eyes holding yours as he answers, low enough that the noise swallows it before anyone else can hear. “You always like getting touched by your superiors, or is it just me?”

Your mouth parts. Nothing comes out. Levi’s eyes flick, very briefly, to your lips, then he steps around you and walks into the mess hall like he didn’t just completely make you short circuit. You stand there in the doorway, heat rushing to your face so fast it nearly makes you dizzy. You reach up to touch your necklace again. You still feel the burn of his palm against your back.

No, no, no. That did not happen. Captain Levi did not just say that to you in a crowded hallway. Captain Levi, who has spent five days ignoring your every attempt to flirt, did not just choose now, now, in front of the open mess hall doors where your idiot friends are sitting within view, to say that.

You turn slowly toward the dining hall. At the table, every single one of them is staring. Eren has a spoon halfway to his mouth. Mikasa is watching you calmly, as she always does. Ymir is smiling widely. Jean’s eyebrows are raised to his hairline. You walk to the table on stumbling legs and sit down shakily.

Jean speaks first. “Well?”

You reach to pick up your spoon, then you realize there is no spoon. You haven’t even gotten your food yet. “W-what?”

“What happened?” Connie demands. “We saw him stop.”

“Did he react?” Eren asks. “Did he blush? Stammer? Look away?”

“Nothing happened,” you say a little too quickly.

Armin tilts his head. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” you repeat, trying not to spontaneously combust from the inside out.

Eren squints at you. “Why do you look like you just ran thirty laps?”

“Because I hate all of you.”

Sasha gasps softly. “Even me?”

“Especially you,” you joke.

“Oh, come on. Something happened,” Jean laughs.

“Nothing happened.”

“You’re flustered,” Christa says gently. Damn it, of course it had to be her who noticed.

“It’s hot in here.”

“It’s winter,” Mikasa says. You glare at her.

Ymir leans forward, elbows on the table as she rests her chin on her linked hands. “Oh, something definitely happened.”

“It didn’t,” you insist, even though your skin is still burning where his hand touched your back. 

The bet was supposed to be simple. You flirt. Levi refuses to react. You keep pushing until you either win through charm or lose with enough grace to pretend you never cared. At no point was he supposed to turn around and make you feel like the bet had never belonged to you at all.

You stand up and grab your food, your cheeks still hot and shoulders stiff. When you sit back down, Ymir’s gaze follows you. She knows. She absolutely knows. But you tell yourself again that nothing happened as you stab a potato hard enough that it breaks apart in your bowl.

Nothing happened. And if that’s true, then you’re in far more trouble than you thought, because apparently Levi can do absolutely nothing and still ruin you.

.

It’s the final day. The day you either make Captain Levi blush, stammer, or lose composure, or you lose the bet and spend the rest of your life—however short that may be—listening to Eren and Jean taunting you and becoming the most smug humans to ever exist on this earth. You’re much less confident than you were when you started, and truthfully, you’re ready to take the loss and humiliation.

The training yard is blue with the early morning, fog clinging low to the ground while the first soldiers trickle in with their gear half-fastened and their faces pinched against the chill. You stand near the equipment racks with your ODM harness hanging around your hips. Your fingers feel slightly clumsier than usual as you tighten the buckle at your waist. It’s not that you’re nervous. You’re just tired and cold. You’re aware that Levi has spent the last twenty-four hours looking at you as if he knows something you don’t, touching you where he doesn’t need to touch you, speaking in a voice that, franky, should be illegal, and then walking away like nothing ever happened.

You tug the buckle too hard and it nearly pulls the breath out of you. Then it falls loose, and you mutter a low, “Shit.”

You feel someone move behind you. Your heart reacts before the rest of you does.

“Your waist buckle is loose.”

You close your eyes for a brief second. Damn the universe for sending him. If you’re going to lose, you might as well go out strong. “I’ve got it,” you say.

“You don’t,” Levi says.

Before you can argue, he steps in behind you. His hands rise to your waist, grabbing the buckle you were fumbling with, and your spine straightens so fast you might as well have been pulled up by a wire. He’s so damn close. Too damn close. 

There are people in the yard. Not many, but enough. Enough that you can’t turn around and ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, enough that you can’t grab his wrist, enough that you can’t do anything except stand there and pretend him correcting your gear isn’t an act of psychological warfare. 

His voice lowers near your ear. “You’re distracted.”

“I’m not,” you say a little too fast.

Levi pulls the buckle tight, enough to force a little “mmph” out of you. You swear you hear him scoff in amusement. “You are.”

“I’m perfectly focused.”

“You’re slower.” His knuckles brush, barely, against your stomach as he tightens the leather. “Your breathing’s off.”

As if your body is eager to prove him right, your breath hitches. You hate him. You hate him so much you want to bite him. You angle your head just enough to speak over your shoulder. “Did you come over here to critique my breathing?”

“No.” He leans in just enough that his next words touch the edge of your ear. “I’m wondering what’s on your mind.” Your first name falls from his lips. You despise how much you like to hear him say it.

Your brain, which has faced Titans, blood, death, and the endless exhaustion of military life, simply abandons you. “I—nothing,” you say, the word catching in your throat. 

Levi freezes for a breath, then finishes buckling your gear. He withdraws his hands, but he doesn’t step back immediately. The absence of his touch feels somehow worse than the touch itself. 

“Save your filthy little thoughts about me for later,” he says.

You freeze. There’s no possible response. Nothing clever nor dignified. Nothing that doesn’t immediately reveal your thoughts, filthy or otherwise. But you realize they’ve already been dragged into broad daylight and inspected by the one man you least want to have that power.

Levi steps around you casually with a perfectly neutral expression, acting as if he hasn’t taken your last functioning nerve between his teeth and smiled around it. You stand there, frozen, your entire body burning. 

Maybe this bet was a bad idea.

.

By midday, you’re coming to terms with the fact that you’re no longer trying to win the bet. You’re just trying to survive the damn thing.

The realization comes to you somewhere between drills and the deeply inconvenient moment when Sasha asks why you keep looking like you expect someone to sneak up on you. Because that’s exactly what it feels like right now; like every corridor has become a battlefield and every corner might contain Levi with another clever line ready to slide under your skin and make its home there.

He’s only doing this because he knows, somehow, because he’s figured out the bet or sensed weakness or simply decides that torturing you is a productive use of his time. That’s what you try to tell yourself, anyway. But none of those explanations quell the heat in your stomach. None of them make you stop remembering the low cadence of his voice. None of them help when you take the stairwell after grabbing a stack of reports to deliver and find him descending from the floor above, eyes already fixed on you as if he knew exactly where you would be.

Your first instinct is to step aside. Your second is to flee. Your third, which is unfortunately the one you choose, is to fight. 

Levi reaches the landing and moves as if to pass you, not stopping, not granting you so much as the satisfaction of another look, and you feel your pride explode in your chest. This is reckless, but when have you ever not been reckless? It led you here, after all.

“If I didn’t know better, Captain, I’d think you were coming onto me,” you say.

Levi stops. Slowly, he turns. His face is unreadable, but his eyes are not empty. They are darkened, focused purely on you and filled with so much control it feels more dangerous than if he had simply smiled.

“You’d know if I were coming onto you,” he says.

A warning. A door. A line on the floor with your toes already over it. Leave it alone. Let him go. Remember that there are only a few hours left in this ridiculous bet and the safest thing in the world would be to stop poking at the man who’s already proven he knows exactly how to make you forget your own name without even touching you.

Stupidly, you say, “Would I?”

For a moment, nothing happens—then Levi steps closer. A single step that takes the distance between you and closes it. His boots echo quietly against the stone. Your back doesn’t touch the wall yet, but every part of you understands that it could. He leans in and you go still. It’s just enough room to move away. But you don’t. His breath brushes your ear as he speaks.

“You’d know,” he says, voice so low the words barely survive the air between you, “because I’d have you backed against this wall and make damn sure you remembered who you were teasing.”

You swear you feel your knees give out. There’s no other way to describe it. A part of you dips, a violent little swoop of heat and shock and want that leaves your fingers tightening around the reports until the papers bend.

Levi draws back just enough to look at you, almost patiently, able to see every ruined thought passing across your face—and he has all the time in the world to watch you suffer through them. You force your mouth open, but nothing coherent arrives. His gaze drops once to your hands clenched around the reports, then he steps past you, the sleeve of his jacket brushing your arm.

You nearly pass out when his footsteps finally fade away.

.

Hours later, after dinner, you and your friends gather in the yard, warm with lantern light and the fading noise of the day. The sky above the barracks deepens into a royal blue. You sit on the grass with your friends, trying to look as normal as possible and most likely miserably failing.

The bet is nearly over. You’ve technically won it, but for some reason, you don’t want to admit it, because if you do, the things Levi said and did become real. Still, you don’t tell them anything. Connie is looking at the stars, Sasha is finishing the last of her crackers that she snuck out of the mess hall, Jean is laying down with his hands behind his head, Mikasa is watching the yard, and Ymir keeps glancing at you with an expression that suggests she knows there’s blood in the water and she’s simply waiting for you to admit you’ve been bitten.

Eren is the one who finally breaks. He waits until the last bell rings from somewhere inside the barracks, marking the end of the day. He smiles and looks at you so smugly it makes you want to slap him.

“That’s it,” he says. “Told you. Captain Levi doesn’t give a shit about romance.”

The others groan, laugh, and argue, immediately debating technicalities, because Jean insists there may still be time if Levi walks through the yard in the next thirty seconds, and Connie says you should just sprint inside and say something ridiculous in case it works. 

You hear it all from very far away, because you know with certainty that Levi didn’t blush, nor stammer, nor look away. He didn’t lose. Not where anyone could see, at least. Eren is right. Jean is right. Everyone is right. 

But they don’t know about the corridor, about his hand at your back, about the training yard and the filthy little thoughts he somehow spoke into existence just by naming them; they don’t know about the stairwell, about the way his voice lowered just for you, about the wall that never touched your back but has been haunting you for hours anyway.

You sit there in the grass with your face turned toward the darkening yard, letting the others mourn and gloat around you, while the memory of his words presses insistently at the forefront of your mind.

You’d know.

You press your lips together and say nothing, because the truth is yours now—and Levi’s.

And that might be worse than losing.

.

Several days pass, and in that time, Levi Ackerman becomes a ghost. He’s somehow everywhere and nowhere at once. In the courtyard while you’re sharpening your blades, standing at the edge of the formation while you run drills, passing through the dining hall with a cup of tea in one hand; and every time you see him, every time his eyes flick over you, your mind drags itself to the stairwell again. 

You try to be normal about it. Privately, you fail, but in public, you’re a master of composure—or at least that’s what you tell yourself every time you miss a cue or spend a full three seconds staring at Levi’s mouth during morning briefing. You spend too long trying not to think about him, and the act of thinking about him suddenly becomes the only thing you know how to do.

Then the summons comes, delivered after dinner by a junior soldier, who says, with a nervous little glance over his shoulder, that Captain Levi wants to see you in his office.

“Did he say why?” you ask.

The soldier clears his throat. “Performance issues.”

The others at the table look at you with a mix of confusion and pity, but you don’t look back at them. You simply stand, smooth down your jacket, and walk out of the dining hall while desperately trying to ignore the fact that your heart is about to explode.

Outside Levi’s office, you lift your hand to knock, but you pause when you become aware of the warmth gathering underneath your collar. This is ridiculous. You’re a soldier. You’ve faced Titans. You’ve bled, trained, survived, laughed in the face of exhaustion, taken orders from men twice as loud and half as terrifying, and you are not going to break down just because Levi asked to speak with you behind a closed door.

You knock.

“Come in.”

You open the door. Levi’s office is exactly as it always is; painfully neat, the shelves orderly and every stack of papers aligned neatly. A single lantern burns on his desk, where he sits with a report open in front of him and a cup of tea sitting near his right hand. He doesn’t look up immediately, and it makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

“You wanted to see me, Captain?” you ask, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.

Levi lifts his eyes and says, “Sit.”

Your spine reacts to the order first as you enter the room and sit in the chair opposite his desk with as much grace as you can muster, which isn’t a lot under the circumstances.

“Am I in trouble?” you ask.

Levi leans back slightly, his fingers resting against the edge of the report. He studies you carefully. “Depends how honest you plan on being.” You smile despite the cold chill running down your spine. He narrows his eyes at you. “Your focus has been shit.”

Well. Not the line you expected, maybe, but the tone is familiar enough to turn into irritation, and you’d rather deal with irritation than the other feeling gathering in your stomach.

“My focus is fine,” you say, more meekly than you’d like.

“No, it isn’t.” Levi closes the report. “Your turns were wide during drills yesterday. Your reaction time was slow this morning. You checked your gear and didn’t realize your gas pressure regulation valve was broken.”

Your lips part, then close again. Damn him. “That was one mistake.”

“Several mistakes.”

“I was tired.”

“You’ve been tired before. You’re sloppier when you’re distracted. And you’ve been distracted.”

Heat starts rushing to your face. “Is that what this is about? My form?”

“It’s about performance issues.”

Your body locks up. Levi’s expression doesn’t change, and that’s the worst part, because his face remains perfectly neutral while the words crawl under your skin, dragging every memory of the last two weeks with them. His hand at your lower back, his voice at your ear, his proximity in the stairwell, his near-command to save your filthy thoughts for later. You try to breathe through your nose.

“My performance is fine,” you say.

“It’s shit,” he says.

You grip the arms of the chair a bit tighter. “Did you just call me in here to insult me?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

Levi sits in the silence for a moment, then he says, “Next time you make a bet involving me, pick a group of idiots that won’t talk about it loudly.”

You swear your stomach drops so fast that the whole room spins around you. Your vision blurs and your mind scrambles backward through every report, every hallway attempt, every bold little comment you’d thrown at him. He knew. Levi knew.

You stare at him, completely frozen, shame flooding through you before anger surges to meet it. Not only did he know, but he had let you keep going, watched you struggle, and taken the game from your hands and turned it against you.

“You knew?” you say.

“Since day five.”

Your face burns. The air in the office suddenly feels suffocating. “And you just let me keep going?”

You swear you see Levi’s eyes glint with amusement. “No. I started playing.”

You stand suddenly, chair scraping back against the floor loudly. “That was petty, Captain. Were you trying to embarrass me?”

“You’re the one who was trying to make me blush in front of half the regiment.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out, because he’s infuriatingly, humiliatingly right, and he knows it. “That was different,” you say weakly.

“How?”

“It was a bet.”

“Mm.” Levi steps out from behind the desk. “That makes it better?”

You hold your ground as he rounds the desk, though you become increasingly aware of the closed door, his desk behind you as you turn around, how his shoes make almost no sound against the floor. Your pulse skips.

“It was harmless,” you say.

“It was stupid.”

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

His eyes lock onto yours. “No. I didn’t.”

Your back suddenly meets the edge of the desk. You hadn’t even realized you were stepping back. Levi doesn’t touch you, but he steps close enough that the space between you becomes a silent dare, and when his hands come down on either side of you, palms braced against the desk, you’re caged without being held. Trapped only because neither of you has chosen to move.

He’s left you room to step away. You could step away. But he’s so close. He’s close enough that you can see the shadows beneath his eyes and the faint scar above his eyebrow. Your breath thins. Levi’s gaze sharpens on you.

“You’re very bold when there’s an audience,” he murmurs.

You swallow, but your throat feels dry. “And when there isn’t?”

For the first time, something almost like a smile threatens the corner of his mouth. He cocks his head slightly. “That’s what I called you here to find out.”

The office goes silent. It presses around you, filling the space between your faces, making you conscious of every small thing surrounding you: the desk biting into your thighs, the faint scent of tea gone cold, the lantern flame shifting in its glass, Levi’s hands braced on either side of you, close enough that your own fingers could reach his wrists if you dared.

Your anger is still there, and your embarrassment too, but beneath both, beneath the humiliation of being caught and the fury of being played, something else opens its eyes, a recklessness that’s starving for touch. It’s been alive since the corridor, since the stairwell, since the first time Levi turned the game back on you.

His gaze drops to your mouth. Yours drops to his. Neither of you moves. You can hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears now, unsteady despite your best efforts to calm it. Your hands grip the desk behind you. The urge to say something snarky leaps to your lips, but you have nothing. You’re completely, utterly speechless.

But you feel the smallest flare of courage. And with that courage, you’re able to whisper three simple words.

“I dare you.”

The kiss is nowhere near gentle. It’s controlled for a single second, just a firm press of his mouth against yours, like he’s giving you exactly one moment to pull away; and when you don’t move, when your hands leave the desk to grab his cravat and pull him deeper in, his restraint breaks. He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s been counting every reckless word you threw at him and has finally decided to answer all of them at once.

Your legs press into the desk as his body leans in, one hand leaving the wood to rest on your waist, the other sliding to your jaw. You make a small sound against his mouth that you would absolutely deny under oath, but Levi hears it, feels it, and answers by tilting your head exactly how he wants it. Your thoughts turn into complete static, but only one breaks through.

This is the reaction you wanted. Not a blush or a stammer. This.

Levi pulls away to breathe, his mouth still close enough to brush yours. His hand is still firm at your waist. You don’t speak, and neither does he. You notice the darkening of his eyes. Yours are fixed on his mouth. Then his thumb moves along your jaw.

“You wanted honest,” he says quietly.

You smile against his mouth and whisper, “I wanted a reaction.”

Levi scoffs. “You got one.”

His mouth crashes back into yours, tongue sliding against yours. One of his hands fists in the fabric at your lower back, pulling you against him. The other cups the nape of your neck, holding you exactly where he wants you. You feel the way his breath hitches once before he deepens the kiss even further. He’s done waiting.

He tears his mouth away again, voice low and rough. “Bedroom.”

“Is that an order, Captain?” you tease.

Levi’s mouth twitches into something almost resembling a smirk. “It’s an invitation. Don’t confuse the two.”

His fingers lace through yours and he leads you out of the office, down the short hallway to his private quarters. The door shuts behind you, and then he’s on you again, mouth hungry, hands already working at your straps. You push his cravat aside and unbutton his shirt with equal urgency. Every brush of his hands against your skin sends sparks racing through you. 

You reach up to your neck and unclasp your necklace, setting it carefully on the small table beside his bed. You’ve never taken it off, so the absence doesn’t register at first. When it does, you feel more naked, despite already fully being so. Then you turn back to him. Levi watches the movement, then his hands return to your bare waist, guiding you backward until the edge of the mattress meets the backs of your knees. He gives you the gentlest push and you sink onto the bed, the sheets cold against your skin.

Levi follows you down, bracing on one forearm as he kisses you again. His free hand trails along your side, mapping the curve of your waist, the flare of your hip. He breaks the kiss to move lower, pressing his mouth to the hollow of your throat, then the slope of your collarbone, then lower still. 

When his lips close over once nipple you arch, a soft sound escapes you. He sucks gently at first, then with more pressure, tongue circling the sensitive bud while his thumb teases the other. The dual attention makes your walls flutter around nothing. You thread your fingers through his hair, feeling the satisfaction that rolls through him at every gasp you give.

He continues downward, kissing a path over your stomach and your hipbone. He bites gently, leaving a whisper of a mark. His hands part your thighs and then suddenly, without warning, his mouth is on you, tongue stroking slowly. At the same time two fingers slide inside, curling so perfectly that your vision blurs for a moment.

Levi’s thoughts are focused on only one thing: he wants to feel you come apart, wants to hear every sound you make when there’s no audience left to perform for. He works you steadily, tongue flicking and sucking at your clit while his fingers stroke that perfect spot again and again.

Your own thoughts scatter now. The bet feels distant, ridiculous compared to the reality of Levi’s mouth and hands. Pleasure builds fast, coiling tighter with every pass of his tongue and every thrust of his fingers. Your hips move without conscious thought, chasing the sensation. Levi’s free hand presses your thighs wider, keeping you open for him. The quiet growl he lets out against you vibrates through your core. Your inner walls clench around him, urging him deeper.

“Levi, please,” you whimper, hands tangling in his hair as you grind against his face. “Need more.”

With a low chuckle, he adds a third finger, stretching you deliciously as he picks up the pace. His tongue dances over your clit, sending a wave of ecstasy through you. He doubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue. Your thighs close around his head. One hand flies from his head to the sheets, gripping tight.

In a moment of surprising tenderness, he reaches out for your hand with his free one, lacing your fingers together. His other hand is still preoccupied, fingers thrusting deep and curling against your g-spot. The tension inside you winds tighter and tighter. Your quiet moans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure that seems to drive Levi on.

Your orgasm comes so suddenly it catches you by surprise. Your body clenches around his fingers as wave after wave rolls through you. You cry out, back arching off the bed, your hand in his hair tightening its grip on his locks. Levi doesn’t stop until the tremors ease, drawing every last ripple of pleasure from you with careful strokes of his tongue. When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are dark and intent, lips glistening. He kisses the inside of your thigh once, then moves back up your body to press his mouth to yours.

Your heavy breaths turn into small, hitched inhales as your pulse races. Levi’s weight settles partly over you, one hand stroking your side. You feel his cock twitch against you. You reach for him, pulling him closer, and he comes willingly, his chest pressed against yours as he grinds his hips down to meet yours, his length sliding over your wetness. 

He then pulls back, eyes searching your face. There’s a softness in the way he lifts his hand and brushes his thumb across your cheek. He feels the rapid flutter of your heart through your chest. He’s been denying it for days now, but he’s wanted this. He wanted it since the first time you tried to make him react, but he needs to know you do too.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks.

You nod without hesitation. “Yes.”

Levi watches you for another second, looking for any signs of doubt, then he settles between your thighs. His hand guides himself to your entrance, and the first press of him stretches you in a way you never could have prepared for. He’s thicker than you expected, the tip parting you slowly. The sensation is overwhelming at first. You feel every inch as he sinks deeper. Your body yields around his solid girth. A quiet sound escapes you, half gasp and half moan. Levi stills once he’s fully inside you, giving you time to adjust.

He takes both of your hands in his and lifts them above your head, pinning them gently to the mattress. His fingers are laced through yours. He begins to move, slow rolling thrusts that you feel the full stretch each time he pushes in. The push of him inside you is deep, hitting places that make your toes curl.

Sensations layer one over another: the slickness, the pressure against your inner walls, your hips tilting to take him deeper. He lowers his mouth to your neck, lips brushing first. Then his teeth graze in a light bite, the sensation racing down your spine. You feel the sting melt into heat, and he soothes it with a slow kiss before biting again, a little harder this time.

Against your skin he murmurs, “You feel so good.” 

The words spread through you in a rush of heat. He shifts your hands and grips both of them with just one of his, while he slides his now free hand down to grip your hip, steadying you as he thrusts again, deeper. You kiss him when he lifts his head, mouths meeting in an open exchange that still tastes faintly of you. He pulls back enough to speak, still moving inside you with long strokes. 

“Is this what you wanted?”

You nod, a moan threading through the motion, your body arching to meet each thrust. The stretch is constant, a fullness that blanks your mind. Levi feels the way you clench around him and the small tremors in your thighs. He slows deliberately, hips rolling in a lazy pace that keeps him buried deep but denies the hard friction you’re starting to crave.

“Yeah?” he says, tilting his head. “Wouldn’t like it if I stopped now, would you?”

You shake your head, no words yet, just the desperate cling of your legs wrapping tighter around his waist. Your hands flex under his hold. You feel the strength in his grip. You couldn’t break free if you tried, and somehow, the contrast of tenderness and control makes heat flood through you again.

Levi’s mouth curves slightly. “That’s right. You want me to keep going, pretty girl?” He leans down, his lips barely ghosting over yours. “Come on, use your words.”

You nearly crack under the weight of his words. Your voice comes out breathy and urgent. “Please don’t stop. Keep going, Levi. I need it. Need it harder.”

He obliges without hesitation. His pace shifts, thrusts growing harder, the bed creaking softly beneath you as he drives in with more force. His thickness fills you completely with each stroke. The wet sound of it mixes with the quiet moans he lets out against your neck. He bites there again, teeth sinking just enough to mark without breaking skin. He kisses the spot, tongue soothing the sting. 

A rush of emotion floods you through the physicality of it all, a mix of being wanted so thoroughly and the unexpected gentleness in how he holds you even while fucking you harder. The moment Levi releases your hand to brace himself properly, you drag your nails down his back, the urge to mark him back rising. The scratches start light but deepen with the next thrust. Levi’s voice comes low near your ear.

“Not too hard, love.”

You nod quickly, the word settling somewhere low in your stomach. You know why he said that. Marks like that would be impossible to hide in the showers. Questions would rise. Explanations you couldn’t give. You ease the pressure of your nails, letting your hands smooth over his skin instead. You feel the flex of his muscles beneath. 

Levi doesn’t falter, his hips snapping down in a rhythm that pushes you higher again. He kisses you to muffle the louder moans that slip out of you, his mouth claiming yours while he drives deep. The tip of him brushes your cervix with every stroke. You feel the tension coiling in him, the way his breathing grows rougher, the subtle tremor in his arms holding his body up. His own pleasure builds, the quiet sounds he makes rising in volume, murmured words of how perfect you feel around him, how much he’s thought about this. 

The pace stays relentless, but he still holds enough control that he doesn’t get lost in the haze. You cling to him with your legs. He kisses your neck again. You feel the precipice approaching for him, the way his thrusts grow slightly erratic, his quiet moans turning into messier, louder groans.

When he pulls out at the last moment, it’s with a low moan, and he shoots ropes across your stomach. The sight of it, the claim on your skin, the way his body shudders through his release, almost makes you cum again on the spot. 

Levi stays close afterward, breathing hard, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. He kisses you gently, fingers stroking over your wrists where he held them before to check without words that you’re alright. You nod silently. He suddenly stands on slightly shaking legs and crosses the room to retrieve a cloth. He sits beside you and wipes you carefully before lying beside you, one arm draped over your waist. 

You turn into him, closing your eyes, not worrying about what the morning will bring. Right now, it’s just you and him, and the very distant thought that you’ll have to thank the others for throwing you into this bet.

.

The morning after is painfully awkward.

Surely, you can survive sitting down with your friends after spending the night with Levi. Surely. Probably. Maybe, if no one looks at you too closely.

You slide onto the bench beside Sasha, trying not to remember Levi’s hands on your waist, Levi speaking against your lips, Levi’s breath finally turning uneven in the dark when your fingers dragged through his hair and pulled a rough sound from his throat that absolutely would have counted as a reaction if the rest of these idiots had been there to witness it.

Then again, fucking your captain probably counts as a reaction too.

Sasha looks up from her breakfast. “You’re late.”

“I slept in,” you answer smoothly.

Ymir, sitting across from you with Christa close at her side, narrows her eyes immediately. “Did you?”

“Yes.”

“That sounded defensive.”

“That’s because I’m being attacked before I’ve had tea.”

Jean and Connie snicker. Then Connie sighs and shakes his head, saying with genuine disappointment, “I still can’t believe you couldn’t get the Captain to react. I was so sure you could do it.”

Oh, you did it alright. 

“I did my best,” you say.

Ymir props her chin on her hand and smiles lazily. “Please. No one could ever make Levi blush or stammer. The whole thing was a waste of fucking time.” She pauses, then adds, “A funny waste of time, though. That was pathetic.”

Jean points his spoon at you without looking at you. “She did get him to talk to her more than usual.”

Armin suddenly says your name. All eyes turn to him. He tilts his head, eyes locked onto your throat. “Where’s your necklace?”

Your hand goes to your throat and meets bare skin. Your heart drops through the floor, through the earth itself where it can lie down and die in peace. You know where it is. You know exactly where it is. But you cannot tell the truth, because you would absolutely never hear the end of it.

“I must’ve forgotten to put it on,” you say, and immediately slap yourself in your mind because you have never forgotten to put on your necklace, because you never take it off except for showers.

Then you feel it on the hairs on the back of your neck. Someone’s approaching. But before you can turn around, a hand enters your vision and sets something down on the table in front of you. Oh gods, you know those hands. They were all over you last night.

You look up and your entire soul leaves your body.

“You left this,” Levi says.

You look down at what he set down. It’s your necklace. Right there, on the table, beside your hand. In front of everyone. No one speaks. No one breathes. You stare at the necklace and it feels like its staring back in disappointment at you.

Levi turns and walks away without another word. When you look up, every single head is turned to you. You look back down at the necklace, your face absolutely boiling with embarrassment and the memory of last night. Fuck, fuck, fuck—

“Why did the Captain have your necklace?” Connie asks.

You pick it up with slightly shaking fingers. “That is… a great question.”

Jean leans forward. “And?”

“And I’m admiring how great it is.”

Eren’s eyes are now huge, both horrified and fascinated. “Wait, did you manage to get him to react?”

You look down at the necklace of your palm, remembering Levi’s hands lacing through yours, his mouth lavishing attention on your neck, his body settled between your thighs, his praises and moans and whispers—all things you will be taking to your grave and beyond it.

Then you smile.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

thank you for reading, and for allowing me to reach this milestone <3

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tags: @saccharinefool @bunbun6casp @hoebuns @levkuna @strangeeaglepost @how-interesting-wow @d1leviglazer @y44washere4somereason @ddilfs4life @nickibunny23 @slaytherinthoughts @levishart @gloomyveil @levislolita @nerdskillz @angierb05 @elegantmakercoffee @444anya @miaszt @vmxz6 @daisyy-lev @naxymoon @caliope13

divider by: @angeliicide

“Fuck me.” He breathed as her shirt followed by her own hands, tossing the cotton off to the side to reveal her body to him- and the hot pink panties with a very clear damp spot that had him wanting to crumble. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are. I don’t know where to look because you’re so perfect." He swallowed, deciding on his guilty pleasure first- and where he knew she liked. 

He knew what he liked and that was this view. It stole his breath, seeing her bare chest, almost all of her exposed to him like a work of art. This was a view he would always want, one he’d thank whoever was up there listening for allowing him to not only witness but put his hands on.

Hands gripped her hips and tugged, letting them adjust to where he wanted them. The squeak of surprise was followed by a sharp inhale from her as his thumbs played with the waistband of her panties. 

“I love when you do that. When you… You picked me up and then what you just did, so easily. It’s so hot.” She admitted, lifting her thigh up to wrap it over his back. “Come and kiss me. Please.”

There was no way he could deny her such a request, so Harry did exactly that, leaning down to capture her lips in a searing kiss that had her arching into him with a soft moan against his mouth. His thumb continued its exploration along her hips, teasing the edge of her panties where they dipped into her thighs while the other held himself up above her head.

He could feel how soft they were there- how much they would give way easily if he wanted to push them aside and touch her pussy directly. She was pliant and pretty, which was a danger to his self control. 

The restraint he had in this current moment was something he would need to remind himself of one day when he thought he couldn’t do hard things- because this was the hardest. Not his current highest benching weight, or the clients that pushed his sanity, or keeping the right water perimeters for his fish tank. It was this. 

Having Y/N wet and willing under him and still resisting pulling those panties off of her, spreading her thighs open to fit him and pushing his cock into her fully. 

“Told you, I’ll do that any time you want. I’ll toss you around whenever you ask.” A lot of people didn’t like that idea, but he would openly admit that the concept excited him. Y/N liked that part of him enough to find it exciting and even more so trusted him enough to use his strength for her. That was no small thing. “Want to kiss your chest. M’losing it a little bit, baby.”

Y/N nodded quickly, her hands moving up to tangle in his hair as he began to trail kisses down her neck and collarbone, trying his best to pace himself. 

It was hard when he wanted to devour her, eat her up, but he was going to give himself a little taste. Just enough to keep him at bay. 

Reaching her chest, he didn’t hesitate to start sucking on the swell of her breast, his tongue laving over the soft, sweet and slightly salty skin there before he moved to pay attention to her nipple.

His tongue flattened against her, licking it slowly as he could feel her shiver underneath him, her fingers tightening in his hair in the way she had no idea he loved, but he did.  He loved it so much that his cock kicked up in his briefs and he exhaled harshly against her skin, feeling her nails brush over his scalp. It seemed like she always knew what to do to make him feel a little insane, but he didn’t have an explanation for it other than the fact that she was on the complete same wavelength. 

With a soft moan against her flesh, he opened his mouth and suckled more her nipple between his lips, the gentle suction making her let out a whine of her own that pleased him to no end. It only got a bit louder when he began to massage her other breast with his free hand, doing his best to keep himself balanced while his fingers plucked at the neglected nipple,

 "You have no idea how much you’re wrecking me, just by letting me do this.” He whispered as he switched over to her other nipple. 

It should be fair after all.

Y/N sucked in a breath beneath him as he continued his worship of her breasts, switching between gentle suckling and light grazes of his teeth that made her arch into him beautifully, and he felt like he was a little drunk. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so captivated by simply touching someone like this- but then again, no one had ever felt like this in his arms before.

“Harry, please.” Y/N’s voice was strained as she watched him look up through his lashes, a hiss leaving her as he pulled back from her wet nipple with a ‘pop’. 

“Hm? What is it, honey?” 

“I need more. I’m going… I feel all hot and I’m aching, I need something.” Her pleas were music to his damn ears, fingers gliding back down towards her panties. 

“Oh, S’okay. It’s alright, I’ll take care of you. I just needed a little taste of these, okay? They’re so pretty… You’re so beautiful, I can’t help myself.”

She wasn’t the only one feeling it. The pink patch of arousal on her panties had grown since his exploration of her tits had begun, but with Harry’s cock was aching in his briefs there was a stain of his own from the pre-cum dribbling out from the slit. It was difficult not to have his body react so strongly, throbbing with every whimper and moan she made, every time she ran her fingers in his hair.

It was ridiculous, but it was a long time coming. He had wanted Y/N for fucking ages, and seeing her sprawled out in front of him was like a dream come true. 

He liked that she could see it, how it affected him just as much. There was no shame in letting Y/N know just how much he adored her- but right now, he wanted to focus on making her feel good, on taking care of her needy body. Even if it meant his own discomfort for a little while longer.   

“Spread your legs wider for me, love. Let me between ‘em.”

Maneuvering his body between her parted thighs, he let out a shaky breath of his own as he aligned himself perfectly on top of her so that the head of his cock pressed right against where she needed him most - through the thin layers of their underwear. 

The quiet groan vibrated off the walls of his living room as he slowly dropped his hips, letting the thick head of his shaft glide along the slick seam of her panties until he felt it settle right against her swollen clit.

"Fuck.” The thick swallow was audible as he dropped his head to look between them momentarily before dropping his face to her neck, kissing the slightly salted skin. “Feels so good, doesn’t it?" He murmured against her neck, holding himself up on his forearms so she could feel his weight pressing her into the couch.

Her back arched, pushing her breasts against his chest as she let out a low sound in her throat. Y/N had never felt small before, never felt delicate, but with him on top of her? That feeling was more achievable. The guys she had dated prior had all been leaner, shorter, and there was nothing wrong with that at all- but this? 

This was her wet dream come to life. 

"Yes... God, yes." Her legs spread, welcoming him between them as she wrapped them around his thighs again, pulling their centers flush. 

He had mentioned wanting her thighs around him and she was making it happen for him, just as he was giving her something she had always wanted. The movement made his cock slide against the slick lips of her cunt through their underwear, making her more wet by the minute. 

Truthfully? Getting wet sometimes had been a struggle in the past, but with Harry it had been strangely effortless. Easy. There was no denying the power he held over her body, and she loved every bit of. "You’re so warm... and big." She muttered softly, hiding her face in his neck to hide her embarrassment. Talking during things like this wasn’t something she usually did but it felt impossible not to tell him how pleased she was. How much she loved feeling him, how she wanted him all over her body, how she wanted him to stretch her open. 

There was no doubt in her mind that he would do it in the way she had always craved but never was brave enough to attempt. "You're-You’re huge compared to my toys... and they stretch me well."

"Mmm..." The sound was husky and pleased as he let his tongue brush against her neck, his hips rolling gently, experimenting with the pressure. "M’gonna stretch you so much better than those toys ever could, honey." His voice was a deep rumble against her skin as he continued grinding, relishing in the heat of it all. The wetness he could feel as he rubbed himself off against her, the feel of her thighs, lush and pretty as they wrapped around his waist. 

If he was a weaker man, he’d say fuck it and take her, but he knew he wanted to try and do it right. 

Besides- he knew he wouldn’t be able to last too long if he did. This was the perfect middle ground. 

“I know you will.” Her breathy voice panted in his ear. “It feels so good just like this. Having you so close and- and feeling how big you are, you’re hitting right against my clit n’I feel so good, I can’t believe it.”

"That's my girl... Believe it. Just take what feels good. That’s what I want you t’feel. Just let me take care of you." He murmured against her skin, his hips moving in slow, steady rocks as he ground against her core. The friction was intense in a way he hadn’t really expected, his cock throbbing through his briefs as he felt her begin to properly soak through the fabric of her panties and to his own. 

Harry had plenty of sex before, but if he was being truthful it felt more intense just rutting against her than it had with some of the real sex he’s had.

"Your little pussy’s so wet already... can feel it through your panties. M’gonna love seeing how wet you get when I touch you properly. When I finger you and stretch you open... Since y’said I was so much bigger than what you’re used to." His words were hoarse, his lips wet from licking over them, every nerve feeling sensitive as he felt her touch over him with the featherlight strokes of her fingers.

 Fuck, he couldn’t wait for that. He wanted it, he wanted to feel her soak him in every way possible, but he couldn’t deny that this alone was enough to get him off. 

“Shouldn’t feel this good, touchin’ you like this. Rubbing off against you… Feels so fuckin’ hot against my dick, honey. Getting my briefs all wet with you, can nearly see through your little panties. Fuck me.” The hiss was through his teeth as he pulled away for a moment to look at her.

Just the view between her legs alone was priceless, the tight feeling in his balls making him want to groan as he really let himself take it in. 

The fabric of her panties were soaked through, the soaked spot spreading outwards as he looked down between their bodies. The sticky, almost see-through material clung to her, outlining the shape of her puffy pussy so perfectly it felt unfair. He could see the plump folds of her cunt pressing against the damp fabric, leaving little to the imagination.  

It wasn’t just the sight of it either. 

The heady scent of her arousal was heavy in the air, nearly making his mouth water because- god, he wanted to lick her. He wanted to clean her with his tongue, make her squirm as he held her thighs against his head, bury his tongue in her leaky little hole, but he was trying to be good. 

“Harry.” Y/N breathed, pulling her panties taut. It gave him an even better look, her thighs spreading all the way open to spread her out and gave a peak of her swollen clit through the fabric- the slick, nearly translucent excuse of a covering. “I-I know you said we have to keep our bottoms on but you can take yours off. T-That’s okay, right? I’ll just keep these on, n’you can keep going.” Her words were a little jumbled but he knew what she was feeling. 

The undeniable urge to have more, to be greedy, to take and take until they were as close as they could be despite the boundaries they’d laid out.

He was feeling the exact same thing. 

Horny beyond belief, desperate for more, but trying to keep some semblance of his promise. 

If he was a better man, he may have said no- but it wasn’t entirely against the rules, was it? Keeping her barrier on, even if it was barely there, it was fine. Maybe he was clutching at straws but he didn’t particularly have the ability to think it through. 

Instead, he jumped at the opportunity. Pulling his briefs off, he let his cock free of the confines and watched her lip pout as he stood momentarily to get them down off of his ankles. 

“Holy shit, Harry.” She breathed, eyes slightly wide. “It’s… wow. How do you-”

Before she could finish her sentence, he was lining himself right back up against her, grinding his bare cock against her soaking panties. The absence of even the thinnest layer made everything feel so much more intense - the heat of her pussy against his shaft, the slickness of her arousal soaking through the cotton to coat his shaft properly, the way his pre-cum was now freely leaking onto her fabric- it was sinful, it was filthy, and he wanted all of it and more.

"I know. It’s big compared to your little cunt, but we’ll make it work. I’ll make sure it’s all good for you, all the time.” Letting himself get wet with her was an experience he wasn’t going to forget. Ages of daydreaming about her didn’t do any of this justice, though he knew that whenever he got inside of her that his life would be ruined. 

Y/N was ruining him for any other woman, so it was good that he wanted her and her alone. 

“Does that feel better, baby?" He groaned as he dropped back to let their lips linger against each other, his hips rolling with more force now that they were skin to damp fabric. “S’this what you wanted?”

"Mhm... yes." She murmured, her answer muffled against his mouth, lips sliding against each other before she kissed him hungrily. The hot push of his tongue into her mouth had her whimpering, brushing over her own. Prior to this she had never been kissed back with the need, the hunger she had always imagined feeling, but he gave anything she tried to hand over tenfold.

It was absolutely filthy, feeling the string of spit against her chin as he pulled back to take a breath, but his smile was filthier. The flash of teeth, dimples in his cheeks and the heat behind his eyes had her clutching the nape of his neck to pull him back down for more.

Her legs threaded back around his waist, pulling him closer as she arched up to meet his grinding movements. "It feels so much better. You're so warm and thick and... Oh."  She let out a soft cry as he hit her clit perfectly, the bare head of his cock nudging right against the swollen bundle of nerves through barely there barrier. "God, Harry. You're gonna make me cum like this."

"Yeah, that’s what I want." He growled against her mouth, the prospect making him want to increase the pace. The whole point was to make her feel good, make her cum on his cock- even if it wasn’t the way they both likely craved- and give them both a taste. 

A sampling of the chemistry they had, confirming the inevitable.

It was safe to say that the levels were off the damn chart. “Sweet little pussy’s so fucking sensitive, huh?" He groaned, rubbing against her again as he felt her hips jerk up against him. "Feels so good rubbing against your clit, baby. S’fucking perfect. Just want you to cum for me, just want to watch you feel good, feel you fall apart just for me.” 

Lips dipping down to her ear, he gently nudged his nose right under it before he kissed the spot, letting himself indulge in the behavior he knew she wanted. “Don’t you want to give me what I want?”

"Yes." She whimpered, head tilting to the side to give him better access to her neck. "I want to give you everything you want. I want to be good for you." Her words were slurred, the haze of pleasure making it hard for her to think of anything but Harry, Harry, Harry.

 It was like a drug, the feeling of his body on top of hers, the heavy weight of his hips pressing down on her clit as he rolled against her. Nails dragged down the back of his neck towards his shoulders, the heavy breath accompanied by soft little whines as the pressure of orgasm that had settled in her lower tummy started to expand.

"Knew you would.. so be a good girl for me and cum. Let me have it, let it go. You’ve been so good today, you deserve t’feel good." He murmured against her neck, sucking gently on the skin at the hinge of her jaw as he felt her nails dig in harder. 

The bite was delicious, and he wanted more of it. Feeling her come undone, losing control of her usually measured actions, he wanted to see what she was like when she needed something and he provided.

"Want you to make a real mess of me with your pretty cunt, okay baby? I know you can do it. Love how wet you are for me, love that I can feel your precious little clit throbbing. You’re so close, yeah?" He panted, sliding a hand under her hair to cup the back of her neck and tilt her head up. “C’mon, honey. Let me watch you cum.”

“Yeah, yeah, M’gonna.” The slightly panicked whisper died out as the slow burn of her orgasm was a wave that started to roll through her, the pleasure that had built in her lower tummy growing hot, making her thighs start to tremble as it finally crested and boiled over. Her eyes fluttered closed, her mouth opening in a soft ‘o’ as she gasped for breath, her body tensing underneath his as her clit throbbed against his cock while it rubbed right against it with the perfect, messy thrust that she had craved.

"Good girl...That’s so good, S’fucking perfect. Just like that." He groaned, feeling the shift in her body immediately. It was beyond beautiful, watching her face contort with pleasure that he had been the cause of as she made that wild, needy, perfect sound that he loved. "Look how pretty you are when you cum." He panted, rolling his hips with softer motions against hers, letting his cock rub her through it.

  “Knew it would be gorgeous, but you blow me away.”

With his mouth back on hers, he kissed her as he worked her over the end of it. Tasting her tongue, feeling her pant against his mouth, all of it fueled him as he felt his cock get a little more slick. Her orgasm was the end of her poor panties, not a semblance of dry fabric anywhere on the gusset of them. They’d ruined them.

Just as he wanted.

"Too much... Too sensitive." She whimpered, her hips bucking sharply against him, pushing his cock away from her over sensitized clit before pulling him back again. The contact of having him close felt incredible, but the pleasure was too much.

The knowledge he hadn’t finished yet wasn’t lost on her, though, and she wasn’t about to let that slide.Even with the haze of her orgasm, she knew she had to do it. Giving him what he had given her felt like a need more than want.

With a small sound, she gently pushed at his shoulders, breaking the kiss as she looked up at him with pleading eyes that were still hazy with the pleasure still running through her body. Warm and happy and now needy in a different way. 

Y/N wanted to give him something he had wanted, make him cum, and though she was slightly embarrassed to ask, that embarrassment didn’t outweigh the want to provide.

"You… You mentioned that you wanted to fuck my thighs. Can I give you that?" The hands gliding up his arms had her momentarily distracted by ink and muscle and how badly she wanted to bite them, but she refocused as she felt his cock twitch against her cunt. “Don’t know how to do it but I want you to do it, want you to cum like that.”

Staring down at her momentarily, it registered that she was serious. With only a brief mention of it just minutes prior, she was ready and willing to give him something he had been thinking about for ages, and that had him clenching his eyes shut. "Fuck." He hissed, his self-control was close to breaking. She was being so damn perfect for him, giving him exactly what he needed and wanted in the best ways possible. 

There was no way he was going to fuck this up. He needed to make sure she was his, that he locked her down completely. The date was going to be planned as soon as humanly possible, because he needed her, and he’d waited quite a while to have her. 

Admiration from the other side of the reception desk, her friendly face, their quick conversations and how pretty and sometimes shy she would get when she had to ask him questions about his schedule? It had made him so disgustingly fond over her, the crush building up quickly- but seeing her like this? 

It was his undoing. 

"Yeah, baby. I want that. Wanna fuck these pretty thighs until I cum all over them." His voice was strained as his eyes opened and he carefully pulled back from between her legs, sitting back on his heels as he took in the sight of her spread out before him, panties ruined and thighs shaking slightly. 

His wet dream. 

Her inner thighs were already wet. It would be easy, but considering he was so close to busting that wouldn’t matter.  “M’not gonna last long at all, honey. I’m close already, and you look so fucking gorgeous… Can barely think straight.” His hands moved to her hips, adjusting her a little before he let them glide over her thighs with a curse. 

So soft. They were so pretty, her perfect thighs, and they were all for him right now. She offered them, given him his desire on a silver platter, and he wished he could last longer… but he knew from the pulsing of his cock that it was impossible. 

“This is how we’re going to do this.” Letting his hands (sadly) leave her thighs, he moved them to her calves and slowly raised her legs up. One ankle in each hand, he pressed her legs together with a nearly delirious laugh, kissing the left ankle. “Just let me hold your legs up, and all you have to do is squeeze those thighs together. Can y’do that for me?”

"Mhm. I can do it." She hummed, her legs easily moving into the position he wanted. Her ankles resting against his chest, knees straight and pressed together tightly, making a perfect little pillow for him to rest his cock against. "Like this?" She asked softly, peering up at him with a shy smile as she squeezed her thighs together.

“Yeah, baby. Jus’ like that.” 

It was unreal, seeing just how cute she managed to be even when they were in this situation. It was filthy, his cock slick with her and dribbling precum onto the back of her thighs and yet she made him have fucking butterflies with that pretty smile and shyness that always had him wanted to treat her with the tenderness she deserved. 

Thankfully, he was getting a chance to show her that he could to that and make her feel good in the ways she wanted, and he wasn’t going to waste it. 

Sliding his prick between her hot, lush thighs was a religious experience. He would vouch for that as he looked down at the view, feeling her squeeze them like he’d asked.

“Oh, god.” The thick swallow was audible as he rocked forward, letting himself feel her. “I’ve dreamed of this.”

A nervous giggle left her lips as she watched him, his length sliding between her thighs, back and forth. She loved the way he looked at her, like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, like he was in awe. Nothing made her feel more appreciated than that, even with it being so new. He’d always given her all his attention, even when they were just simply friends, but it felt like so much more at this moment that she didn’t know how to handle it. 

It was arousing, yes, but his attention had her giddy and nervous, giggly in a way she had never been. Sex had never made her feel so strangely happy to give to her partner. The stuff she had done before was mostly tame, and she’d never had her thighs fucked before, but she was going to like it. She just knew it. 

It was obvious that he was trying to hold himself back, that he was trying to make this good for her even though he was clearly barely hanging on by a thread. 

“Be selfish, Harry.” She whispered up to him. “I already came. It’s okay. You don’t have to hold on for me. Take what you want.”

Harry wanted to insist, really- he wanted to try and give her more, to be more gentle with it, but she didn’t want that. He could see it on her face that she was curious and she wanted more- so again, he gave in. A curse came out on a moan as her permission undid something in him and unraveled the coils he had tried to keep wound up. 

The gentle rocking turned into something more purposeful, his hips rolling between her thighs with more force as he chased his own orgasm. The sight of her lying there, letting him use her pretty thighs for his pleasure had him close to tears almost because it was so fucking sweet and hot and everything he had wanted. "Thank you, honey. Thank you, s’so fucking good. They’re so soft, so pretty, m’obsessed with them.”

He wasn't lying when he said he was obsessed. Being between the both of her thighs was everything he had dreamed about and more, and he knew instantly that he was fucked. 

Feeling this wasn’t just a passing fantasy, it wasn’t a one off experiment- it was something he’d be thinking about for the rest of time. 

There was something inherently intimate about fucking between them, being able to look down and see his cock disappearing between those soft, plush, thighs that squeezed him between them and were wet with the both of them. See the tip press out of the other side, feel the base snug against the backs of them before he pulled back out and started it over again. Every thrust had him panting, the wet sound of their combined arousal costing him slicking the path.

The way her thighs felt around his cock was a dream come true. He had jacked off thinking about this exact scenario more times than he could count. The softness, the heat, the way they squeezed him and gave into the friction, it was like a fucking heaven between her legs and he hadn’t even been in her cunt yet.

 "Fuck, I'm gonna cum." He warned her, voice strained as he looked down at where his cock was disappearing between her thighs over and over again. The sight was obscene and perfect and everything he had wanted, but now he was about to make even more of a mess of her thighs and he wanted to warn her because he knew it was going to be a lot. "S’gonna be a lot cum coming out of me, baby." The warning did little to hide how wrecked he was, hips stuttering as he felt it raise up to the top, overflowing.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, baby..." The warning gave way to groaning as his orgasm ripped through him suddenly, making his hips jerk forward sharply as he spilled between her thighs. 

Thick ropes of cum dripped over her skin, coating the insides of her thighs and spurting over her panties as he rode it out with rough thrusts between them. He heard her gasp, felt her thighs squeeze around him harder as if trying to hold him in place while he painted her with his release. His hips jerked forward again, this time a long line of cum landing on the little bow on the front of her panties and the softness of her stomach before settling the tip between her squeezed thighs, the rest dribbling out and coating the tops of them. 

"Fuck, look at you…” He panted weakly, slowly coming down from his high as he looked down at what he had done to her. The sight made his spent cock twitch weakly between her thighs. 

Thighs coated in his cum, her panties completely ruined and stained with it. The translucent fabric having pools of him over the puffy lips, downright nasty in a way that made his cock twitching it’s spot between her legs. He had made such a mess of her, and he kinda hated how much he loved it.  "Didn't know I'd cum that much, Jesus. M’sorry."

“It’s okay.” She smiled up at him, saccharine and soft before her eyes went back to the filth he has painted her with. “Is it weird that I like it?”

“No, it’s not. But we can’t talk about that right this second because I’ll get hard again, and I still need t’get you the gelato we’ve been talking about.” His eyes clenched shut as he tried to push away the arousal but it was fruitless when her thighs opened up and let him go, seeing the pearly load smeared all over them.

That was an image he wished he had photographic evidence of, but he would be revisiting that view in his head later on when he had to get off. It was going to go platinum in his spank bank, that’s for sure. 

 “Let me clean you up. Just sit right here, I’ll be right back.”

“Oh! Gelato, I forgot!” Her face absolutely lit up as she kicked her feet in the air with her toes flexing as she swiped her finger over her stomach to clean up some his cum before pointing towards the bathroom. “Okay, let’s be quick, cause I’ve been thinking about it since you mentioned it this morning.”

Dropping a kiss to her cheek, he walked towards his bathroom with a newfound pep in his step. He let himself be silent as the water warmed, letting that buzz run over his spine again at the realization that she was waiting out there for him. He had made her cum, she’d let him fuck her thighs, and she wanted to be with him. 

itoshi rin

“... i knew something was off.” 

lies. he did not know anything. he’s just salty that you were better than him in the last scrimmage. 

lowkey respects your ability to deceive the system. no one else could’ve pulled it off. 

“well, if you're still here, guess it doesn’t matter. just don’t think I’ll go easy on you because you're a girl." 

surprisingly neutral, but his eyes linger on you more often now.

nagi seishiro

“oh. huh. that’s why your hands are so soft.” 

not phased in the slightest. 

honestly thinks it’s kind of cool that you tricked everyone. “that sounds like a pain. but also kinda genius.” 

keeps accidentally calling you “dude” out of habit and then awkwardly correcting himself: “uh. dudette? nah that sounds weird…”

karasu tabito

laughs SO HARD he literally cries. 

“bro. BRO. you mean to tell me you were out here breaking ankles and gender norms???” 

starts making up fake backstories about how you smuggled a fake mustache into the dorms or used voice-changing tech. 

100% wants to know how you did it. every detail. for science (and blackmail).

otoya eita

the flirt switch FLIPS IMMEDIATELY. 

“so you're saying i wasn't crazy for thinking you were kinda hot?” 

annoyingly smooth about it. calls you “princess” just to see you get flustered. 

absolutely refuses to stop flirting. even more now. 

“if you needed help keeping the secret, you could’ve asked me. i’m great at keeping things under wraps, baby girl.” 

yukimiya kenyu

dramatic gasp. glasses off. slow-motion blink. 

“you… you’re a her?” 

the poetic side of him kicks in: “like a rose blooming in a battlefield…” 

would never admit it, but he starts fixing his hair more often around you now. 

supportive as hell though. tells you he respects your drive and the risks you took.

aryuu jyubei

strikes a pose and fans himself with his own hand. “mon dieu… the betrayal… you mean to say… all this time… i wasn’t the only icon here???”

says you’ve raised the standard of beauty and elegance in blue lock. 

insists on giving you a makeover “to match your true self,” even if you’re like, “bro please no.” 

might actually fight otoya for flirting too much.

bachira meguru

gasps in dramatic anime fashion. 

“NO WAY! you’re a GIRL?! THIS IS AMAZING!” 

he’s totally hype about it. takes it as a challenge, like, “you were able to sneak by the whole blue lock team?? you’re a legend, let’s be best friends forever!”

starts calling you “mystery girl” and constantly refers to you as his “partner in crime.” 

“i knew you were special, but this is next-level. no one can keep a secret like that and still play like a monster!!”

chigiri hyoma

goes very still. blinks. stares. 

“... wait. you're serious?” 

he has a lot of emotions. probably more than he expected. 

part of him’s like, “hell yeah. girl power.” and the other part is like “oh no she’s hot.” 

quietly covers for you when needed. he gets what it’s like to be underestimated.

niko ikki

poor boy.exe has stopped working. 

you tell him and he literally just stares with wide eyes like a deer in headlights. 

doesn’t know what to say for the longest time. then mutters, “i... always thought your voice was kinda nice.” 

gets super flustered afterward and avoids eye contact for three days straight.

gagamaru gin

“HUH???”

pure confusion. “but… you tackled me last week. and cursed at me. in a super deep voice. i thought you were just… intense?”

he's like a golden retriever trying to understand algebra. but he means well. 

“wait does this mean we weren’t supposed to share toothpaste???”

Leia fiddled with the hem of her shirt and then crossed her arms, an unconscious echo of Clark when he was nervous. “Um. Can we talk? Like, privately?”

That got your full attention. You set your mug down and nodded toward the empty chair beside you. “Of course.”

Leia sat, still fidgeting, and then blurted, “Please don’t tell Dad.”

Your brows lifted. “Okay,” you said slowly, fighting a smile. “That depends on what this is about.”

She took a deep breath. “I have… a date.”

You blinked. “A date?”

Her face went bright red. “Please don’t make a big deal out of it!” she hissed, looking over her shoulder as though Clark might appear at any second.

“I just…Damian asked me to go to an art museum with him, and I said yes, and I don’t know what to wear or what to do, and I’m freaking out!”

You froze for a second, trying to process. “Damian… Wayne?”

Leia nodded miserably, lowering her face into her hands. “I know, I know! I can already hear Dad’s heartbeat going all boom-boom-boom from wherever he is. That’s why you can’t tell him. Please, Mom. He’ll freak out. He’ll fly to Gotham and demand a background check or something.”

You tried not to laugh. “Sweetheart, your dad already knows Damian’s background. He’s Bruce Wayne’s son.”

Leia groaned. “Exactly! Which means Dad and Bruce will probably have some weird superhero dad stand-off and scare him away forever!”

You reached over and touched her hand gently. “Okay, okay. I won’t tell your dad. For now.” You gave her a look. “But you’re going to tell me everything, starting with when and where.”

She nodded, relieved. “He asked me to go with him to the art museum this afternoon. Said he’d pick me up at three.”

You tilted your head, smiling softly. “That’s very… proper of him.”

Leia sighed dreamily. “He’s not as grumpy as everyone thinks. He’s actually really sweet when he’s not pretending to be all mysterious.”

“Sweet,” you repeated, amused. “That’s not a word I’ve ever heard used to describe Damian Wayne.”

Leia shrugged, smiling shyly. “You just have to see him when he talks about his animals. He has this little grin…”

You chuckled and shook your head. “Oh no, my poor daughter’s got it bad.”

Her face turned red again. “Mom!”

“Okay, okay,” you said, laughing. “Let’s figure out what you’re wearing.”

You both spent the next hour upstairs, trying on outfits. Each one discarded because it was either “too fancy,” “too casual,” or “too something.” You helped her braid her hair, applied a touch of blush and lip gloss, and finally found a simple sundress that she loved.

When you were done, you stepped back and smiled. “There. You look beautiful, Leia.”

She turned to the mirror, nervously smoothing her dress. “Do I look like I’m trying too hard?”

“You look like yourself,” you said softly. “That’s what matters.”

Leia turned and hugged you tight, burying her face in your shoulder. “Thanks, Mom. I knew you’d understand.”

You stroked her hair gently. “Always, sweetheart. Just… be yourself. And remember, first dates aren’t about being perfect. They’re about learning who someone really is.”

“What was your first date with dad like?”

You smiled, reminiscing. “It’s…complicated. We would go on dates…without even realizing it. Though, it definitely felt like a date to me, with flowers and milkshakes and everything. I didn’t really know that he liked me like that until a bit later.”

“Were you nervous?” Leia asked.

You shook your head, “Nothing made me feel more at ease than being with your dad. Guess everything just felt natural when you’ve known each other for so long.”

Leia nodded, pulling back just as you heard the faint hum of an engine outside. She froze. “Oh my god, that’s him.”

You peeked out the window. Sure enough, a sleek black car was parked at the curb, and Damian Wayne stood beside it in a dark turtleneck, looking more nervous than you expected for the son of Batman.

Leia grabbed her small bag and turned back to you. “Okay. Deep breaths. You won’t tell Dad, right?”

You smiled. “Not a word. But I expect details later.”

She grinned, kissed your cheek, and hurried out the door.

You stood at the window, watching Damian open the car door for her, your heart swelling with pride and the faintest touch of nostalgia. Your little girl wasn’t so little anymore.

-

You were sitting on the couch, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone when you heard a familiar whoosh of air.

You watched his expression suddenly falter, his brow furrowing, his head tilting slightly. That look. You knew it well.

“Hey, baby,” you said cautiously, “what is it?”

He landed softly beside you on the couch, looking concerned. “Hey, honey. Leia’s heartbeat sounds different. Is she nervous about something?”

Your stomach dropped. “Her heartbeat?”

You forced a casual smile, though your pulse spiked instantly. “Well, she’s fifteen, Clark. Maybe she’s just…out with a friend.”

He squinted. “A friend? Where?” His voice had that distinct, protective edge that came out whenever Leia so much as scraped her knee. “She didn’t say she was going anywhere today.”

You rubbed your temples. There it was, the inevitable moment. You had hoped this would come later, maybe after she got home. “Clark,” you started carefully, “before you overreact—”

He froze, eyes narrowing. “Overreact to what?”

You sighed. “She’s fine. She’s at the art museum.”

He blinked. “The art museum?”

You nodded. “With… a friend.”

His jaw clenched. “Which friend?”

You met his eyes, gave him the softest smile you could manage, and said in one breath, “DamianWayne.”

The silence that followed was palpable. You could practically hear the gears grinding in Clark’s brain as the realization sank in. His expression shifted from confusion, to disbelief, to full-blown paternal panic.

“WHAT?” His voice cracked slightly, more in shock than anger. “Damian Wayne?! Bruce Wayne’s son?!”

You winced, standing quickly and pressing your hands to his chest before he could do something rash…like accidentally break the sound barrier in his panic. “Clark, honey, calm down. It’s just a date. She really likes him, and I promise you, Damian’s being a perfect gentleman.”

Clark’s eyes widened even more. “A date?! You let her go on a date with the son of Batman?! Do you know how dangerous his life is? Do you know how…how violent that boy’s upbringing was?!”

You couldn’t help the amused smile tugging at your lips. “You say that like you didn’t fight crime before breakfast in your teenage years.”

“That’s different!” he sputtered. “I wasn’t trained by the League of Assassins!”

You chuckled softly and squeezed his arms. “Clark, sweetie. Leia is safe. Damian would never hurt her. You know Bruce raised him right. And you know Leia can handle herself. She’s half Kryptonian, remember?”

Clark opened his mouth, then closed it, scowling. “Still. I don’t like this.”

“I know you don’t.” You smoothed a hand along his tie. “But maybe this is one of those times where you have to let her grow up a little.”

He sighed, clearly fighting a war between logic and instinct. “I just…she’s my little girl. My baby.”

“She’s also fifteen, and she’s fine,” you reassured him.

But then he frowned, that stubborn line settling between his brows. “...We should check on her.”

“Clark—”

“Discreetly!” he added quickly, holding up a hand. “Just to make sure everything’s fine. From a distance.”

You groaned, though part of you knew this battle was already lost. “You mean ‘discreetly’ as in hover outside the museum window invisible or ‘discreetly’ as in follow them around pretending we’re strangers?”

He gave a sheepish smile. “The second one.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, laughing despite yourself. “Fine. But if she catches us, you’re explaining this.”

-

Within half an hour, you found yourself at Metropolis Art Museum, strolling hand in hand with Clark, who looked simultaneously casual and painfully obvious as he tried to “blend in.” He wore his glasses, a ball cap, and the world’s most awkward “I’m totally normal” smile.

You couldn’t stop laughing. “Clark, you’re six-four and built like a professional athlete. You don’t blend in anywhere.”

He huffed. “I’m trying.”

You slipped your arm through his. “Relax, Mr. Super Spy. You’re lucky you have me to make this look natural.”

You wandered through the exhibits, pretending to admire sculptures and paintings while subtly keeping an eye out for Leia and Damian. Finally, you spotted them in the Impressionist wing, standing in front of a Monet, laughing quietly.

Leia’s cheeks were flushed, and Damian was looking at her with that soft, almost awkward admiration. He offered her a small cup of gelato, and Leia took it, smiling shyly.

You felt your heart melt. “Look at them,” you whispered. “They’re adorable.”

Clark didn’t respond. He just stared, tense, arms crossed.

“Clark,” you murmured, tugging his arm. “Breathe.”

“I am breathing,” he said through gritted teeth. “Barely.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “She’s happy. That’s all that matters.”

He sighed, finally relaxing as he watched Leia laugh. “She’s growing up too fast.”

You squeezed his hand. “Yeah. But you know what? So are we. We get to see the result of all that love and work we put into her.”

He turned to you, a small, genuine smile finally softening his face. “You’re right. As usual.”

You looped your arm through his and leaned your head against his shoulder as you both strolled to the next exhibit. The museum was quiet, filled with warm afternoon light filtering through the tall windows. After a few minutes of walking in peaceful silence, Clark whispered, “You know, it’s been a while since we’ve had a museum date.”

You smiled, glancing up at him. “Are you saying spying on our daughter counts as a date?”

He grinned. “Well, now that she’s safe and we’re here… why not make the most of it?”

You laughed softly, letting him lead you toward a quieter gallery. You walked through rooms of sculpture and paintings, his hand warm against yours, the two of you stealing quiet moments: small smiles, teasing comments, a kiss shared in front of a marble statue when no one was looking.

So the two of you spent the next hour wandering through the museum, occasionally peeking at Leia and Damian from afar but mostly just enjoying each other.

Clark leaned down, pressing a slow, tender kiss to your forehead. “You’re the reason I can do any of this,” he whispered. “Even the crazy dad stuff.”

You chuckled softly. “I’ll remind you of that when Leia’s prom rolls around.”

He groaned. “Don’t even start.”

-

You and Clark walked through the museum’s softly lit halls, your hands linked, the sound of distant conversations echoing like a melody between the marble floors and high glass ceilings.

Clark had finally relaxed, though you could tell he still peeked over his glasses every few minutes to “casually” check that Leia and Damian were still within visual range. You had long since stopped trying to stop him because, honestly, it was adorable. Superman, reduced to a worried dad in a baseball cap.

You were standing together in front of a painting, admiring flecks of gold and blue that caught the light just right, when you noticed Clark tilt his head slightly, that subtle shift that meant he was listening to something.

You raised an eyebrow. “What is it?” you murmured.

He hesitated, looking faintly puzzled. “...Footsteps. Familiar ones.”

You sighed. “Clark, you know half the people in this city. Who could possibly—”

And that’s when you saw them.

Turning the corner, trying far too hard to act casual, were two of the least discreet men on the planet.

Wearing a dark coat, a fedora, and a pair of sunglasses so oversized they looked straight off a movie set…was Bruce Wayne. And beside him, Dick Grayson was sporting a hoodie and baseball cap, holding a folded museum brochure upside down like he was trying to blend in.

You blinked. Clark blinked.

All four of you froze mid-step, like actors caught off-script.

Bruce’s sunglasses slid slightly down the bridge of his nose, and for a moment, no one said anything. Then, in perfect unison, Clark muttered, “...You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You stifled a laugh behind your hand.

Dick looked at Bruce, then at you and Clark, eyes wide. “Uh…hey, fancy seeing you guys here!”

Clark crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Really, Bruce? You too?”

Bruce’s jaw twitched. “I’m not here for any particular reason.”

You laughed. “Right. So the billionaire in sunglasses, sneaking through an art museum on a Saturday, isn’t here to spy on his son’s date?”

Bruce’s silence said everything.

Clark gestured between the four of you. “This is ridiculous. We’re all supposed to be the world’s greatest heroes, and we’re stalking our teenagers through a public museum.”

Dick raised a finger. “Technically, I’m just here as moral support.”

“Translation,” you said with a grin, “Bruce blackmailed you into tagging along.”

Dick’s guilty half-smile was all the answer you needed.

Meanwhile, Bruce’s expression didn’t shift, though you could see a vein twitching in his temple. “I was ensuring Damian’s safety. He can be... impulsive.”

Clark gave him a flat look. “He’s with my daughter, Bruce.”

“Exactly,” Bruce replied dryly.

The two men glared at each other for a beat. The world’s greatest standoff over two fifteen-year-olds who were, at that very moment, standing peacefully across the hall, admiring a Van Gogh like civilized young adults.

You stepped between them before the tension could escalate into an intergalactic-level dad standoff.

“Alright, alright,” you said, trying not to laugh. “How about we all agree that both our kids are alive, safe, and probably mortified if they ever find out we’re here?”

Clark’s shoulders eased slightly, though his mouth twitched. “Fine. But if Damian so much as—”

“Clark.” You gave him a look, one he recognized instantly as the “don’t you dare finish that sentence” kind.

He sighed. “Okay. Fine. I’ll behave.”

Dick grinned. “You know, we could all just make this a family thing. Grab coffee, pretend we didn’t all just get caught being paranoid parents.”

You smiled at him. “That’s the most sensible idea I’ve heard all day.”

Bruce gave a noncommittal grunt. Clark still looked mildly annoyed. But you slipped your hand into his and squeezed it, softening his glare.

“Come on, Mr. Kent,” you teased. “You can write an article tomorrow that Superman was spotted on a double date with Batman. That’s one for the history books.”

-

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C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

Kyojuro’s incredibly flustered after cumming onto your body, anywhere really. Especially if you swallow it all, that’s when he’s beginning to ascend. He let out one satisfied, deep groan before finishing and staining your beautiful body. His abs and abdomen would be all twitchy, trying to control the overwhelming pleasure of his organism by redirecting the feeling onto other areas of his body.

He’s hesitant to ask, but your husband wants you to squirt onto his face. Kyojuro is curious on what it’d taste like to be honest. He’s eaten you out before and does it almost everytime you two sleep with each other, but you never squirted on his face before. He isn’t actively trying to make you do it, but he really, really wants you to do it. He’s too shy to ask though.

“Y-You make me burn s-so brightly- Ah!-“

D = Dirty secret (a dirty secret of his)

Something that surprised even himself was how Kyojuro began fantasising about taking you in more public spaces. Not exactly somewhere where people can really see you, but he’s imagining dragging you aside into a secluded area like a forest or just a room inside the residence where the risk of being caught is a little higher. It makes him nervous to think about, taking you while also needing to look out for any other people that may come too close. He would pump his cock into his fist faster and faster while thinking about it…

E = Experience (How experienced is he?)

Kyojuro was raised well and saved himself for you, his future wife. After making sure you’d agree to marry him and that you are willing and happily ready to sleep with him, he’ll try to do some research beforehand. Your then-boyfriend snuck around his father’s house, but to no one’s surprise, found nothing on anything remotely related to sex or similar. After finding nothing, he moved onto the archives of the demon slayer corps. Of course, there was nothing there either, only scrolls and books on ancient breathing techniques, tactics on how to fight demons and all that stuff. He was hopeless and decided to give up, going in unexperienced and with the hopes to perform well enough to satisfy you.

“My flame, do you think Shinobu keeps some kind of records or books on reproduction?… Why I’m asking? No reason. I-I’m just interested in the biology of it!”

P = Position (his favourite positions)

1. Mating press

That way, he can push himself especially deep inside of you while having your legs rest on his shoulders. Kyojuro especially loved leaning down to you, watching your face heat up and how your eyes roll back. By staying so close, he can closely watch how close you are, how pretty you look like this and how intimate it feels being so close to you.

2. 69

Oh he loves the feeling of making you squirm and shudder above him while you’re struggling to take him with all the stimulation he’s giving you. Kyojuro gets easily lost in your essence, often switching form the 69-position to you just sitting on his face while his own cock is twitching and aching for stimulation, but the way he’s eating you out, you can’t concentrate on anything else but not grinding onto his face for even more stimulation.

G = Goofy (Is he more serious in the moment? Or humorous? etc.)

You know Kyojuro as a rather energised, outgoing and loud individual, but while having your legs rest on his shoulders while his hips thrust deeper and deeper, he hets much more passionate. He’s trying not to be funny, but sometimes he accidentally makes you giggle by not being able to control his hair. If he makes the mistake of not tying it together beforehand, his bright flame like hair will be falling into his face or just fly around everywhere, maybe even tickle your nose by leaning downwards during an particularly pleasurable movement.

“A-Agh, my hair- Apologies my love, can I borrow your hair-tie just for during… this?”

H = Hair (How well-groomed is he?)

Kyojuro doesn’t really like being completely shaven. He prefers keeping it more natural and let his hair grow out a little, but not too much. He trims it regularly and of course washes himself. It’s extremely important to him to stay clean snd healthy, for both you and himself. Colour wise, his pubic hair matches his eyebrows, being very dark, almost black.

Regarding you, Kyojuro does not care if you shave or not, it all tasted the same and makes you sing those pretty moans for him. The most important thing is that you stay clean for him, that’s all.

I = Intimacy (How is he during the moment? Romantically.)

It almost surprises you how attentive and intimate your husband can get, even after years of marriage. For him, sex isn’t only about pleasure, but about lovemaking and being attentive to all your needs, physically and mentally. Kyojuro takes his time beforehand to kiss and maybe even flirt with you, as if courting you for the first time ever.

During sex, he would stare at your face during the whole time, covering your skin in kisses and caresses, his hands exploring every inch of your gorgeous body. His moans would consist mostly of whimpering broken praises while his brows furrow together and sweat runs down his skin.

“I love you, I love you, gods!! H-Hah, I love you…”

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Kyojuro doesn’t masturbate very often, but he does get aroused more often than he’d like to admit. Sometimes, he has to relief that pent up over the weeks. What turns him on the most is your scent. Any clothes of yours or just rolling over in bed onto your side switches something inside his brain. So, he mostly masturbates with the help of something you wore before and gave to him (with your consent of course). It doesn’t matter if it’s panties, shorts or a shirt, having your intoxicating smell near him makes him shudder and cum almost immediately.

One time, you gave him one of your panties for an extremely long mission. You alone just handing it to him so casually almost made him cream his pants.

K = Kink (one or more of his kinks)

1. Praising kink

It goes both ways, but hearing you praise him makes him cum almost immediately mid thrust. Kyojuro’s eyes would go wide and he’d lean down to you, peppering your face in kisses while burying himself deeper within you with a loud moan while thanking you quietly, his large hands squeezing your waist and pulling you closer to himself.

Your husband lives, laughs and loves praising you all day every day, that also means during sex. Seeing you blush just a little boosts his confidence greatly.

2. Exhibition

Kyojuro shudders everytime he thinks about the idea of being caught. Perhaps somebody hears your loud moans or his grunts and comes to investigate, catching you in the act. His heart races a little when thinking about asking you to help him out in the alleyway, looking out left and right to check for anyone coming. He doesn’t want to have a thing for being risky or doing it in semi-public spaces, but your husband just can’t help to fantasise about trying to make you scream louder and louder, risking being caught by a poor and probably afterwards traumatised kakushi.

3. Light Bondage

Kyojuro wants to know that you can fully trust him, and sometimes you can demonstrate it by be willing to be a little restrained. Just some loose ropes around your wrists to keep you from squirming too much. While you can’t escape, your husband, he’ll use the opportunity to its fullest to tease and play around with you by just barely using his fingers on you, instead of eating you out just giving you light kitten-licks or just caressing your body in admiration.

“Louder, m-my flame, please- Gods, I-I wanna hear you.”

L = Location (favourite places to take you)

He’d prefer to take you in your shared bed where it’s the most comfortable, but sometimes, Kyojuro would like to make love to you in the hotsprings. The steamy warmth surrounding you two, your naked body pressing right up against his, it may stir a couple of things within him like the overwhelming desire to mount you right now. The scents, the water, just the moment in general makes the perfect place to make love, don’t you think? Beneath these beautiful stars and admits the rocks and woods surrounding the hot springs…

M = Motivation (What turns him on, gets him going?)

1. Your confidence

Kyojuro is drawn to your enthusiasm and confidence like a moth to a flame- whatever you’re proud of, he’ll be 100% prouder, even if it’s just you managing to flip a pancake by tossing it in the air. Impressive non the less! But seeing you be confident in your own abilities and not needing him for a task makes him feel needed by you. If you don’t need his strength opening that jar of jam, how about Kyojuro satisfies you in other ways?

2. Being close after a long day

Your husband is often cuddly during the evenings of a long day. He still refuses to stop training even after retirement, so he’s still exhausted after a long day. Kyojuro loves to pull you closer and shower you in affections by peppering kisses all over your neck. He smiled against your skin when you squirm under him when he rolls on top of you, pinning you against the bed, his palms cupping your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Darling, can you… uh.. can we cuddle while I put.. myself.. into you? You’re just so warm and I promise you I’ll make you feel good, my flame…”

N = No (something he wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’d never degrade or humiliate you, even if you may be into it. Kyojuro fears he might hurt your feelings or make you feel worse about yourself, wich is exact opposite of what he’s trying to do during sex. He’s trying to make love to you, not… degrade you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving)

Receiving

Kyojuro can barely look at you while you’re sucking him off. His wide eyes would be staring at a random point on the ceiling, his mouth agape and a little drool running down his chin. His hands would be tightly gripping both sides of your head, trying to get even more pleasure from your warm mouth. If you ever dare to tease his tip with your tongue, prepare your face to be covered in his essence in a matter of seconds. He’s extremely sensitive and cums embarrassingly quickly when you pleasure him orally. If you go on your knees while he’s leaning against a wall, Kyojuro would be concentrating on not breaking down with the amount of shaking his thighs are doing.

Giving

He’d rather give than receive any day, you being his absolute favourite dish besides sweet potato and miso soup. Kyojuro’ll drop onto his knees whenever you need him to, willing to take you anywhere at any time. His hands would be tightly wrapping around your legs, pushing them onto his shoulders for support when you’re laying down. Although he prefers it if you sit onto his face, that way he can solely concentrate on eating you and playing with your clit. Sometimes, he’ll try to overstimulate you just to make you squirm and jump away. It makes him grin every time.

“My flame, my love- you taste divine… hah.”

P = Pace (Is he fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Kyojuro tries to be slow and sensual, savouring every second of feeling you wrapped around him, how you squeeze and squirm around, but that is also the reason he really can’t be slow and sensual. His waist snap against yours in an incredible speed, chasing his own high while trying so hard to bring you the exact same feeling he’s feeling right now. But when you take control and straddle him instead, your husband loves to watch you struggle taking him in fully and how slowly you’re is moving up and down his shaft- if you decide to be quicker, his hand would quickly slam against the headboard in a desperate attempt to hold onto something while you make him see stars.

Q = Quickie (his opinions on quickies)

Kyojuro enjoys the playful nature of them and how spontaneous they are- you pulling him aside from his task just to seduce him? How perverted.

He enjoys them but doesn’t prefer them over full sessions. Your husband has surprisingly a lot of desire pent-up and is ready to bed you anytime you want, so he always has time for you coming onto him first. It’d feel like a break from a stressful day or a distraction from a particularly boring task— so he enjoys it!

“A-Ah, such a needy wife I-I have.”

R = Risk (Is he game to experiment?)

Yes! Kyojuro likes keeping things spicy in the bedroom by willing to experiment with you- whatever you like, he’s down for it (except humiliation of course)! He also has a thing for semi-public things, so he’d be more than willing to try things out in that department. Overall, if you want to try out spanking, food play, hair play, temperature or just plain vanilla, he’s down for everything! Please, use him for your pleasure! He’s even open to a little more… experimental things.

“P-Pegging? Really? Ahh… I trust you, I do, but… could you give me some time to think about it?”

S = Stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)

Kyojuro can and wants to go as many rounds as possible. Even after years of neglecting endurance and stamina training, your husband still has the stamina of some kind of beast. He fights through overstimulation like a soldier, if that means bringing pleasure to you then so be it. He can handle a little sting.

It also takes a while for him to cum in general. It’s not particularly hard for him to cum, he just doesn’t to. Besides, it makes him grin how you whine about already being spend and he has not even finished once.

T = Toys (does he own toys? does he use them?)

You two share one rubber dildo. No further comment.

U = Unfair (how much does he tease?)

Given how much Kyojuro enjoys making you squirm and moan, he does like to tease a little. Not to the point of making you beg, but just to make you pout a little. It just turns him on all over again.

Also, he likes to tease you during the day by slipping his hand under your skirt or pants, cupping a feel of your assets before smiling brightly at you like nothing ever happened. Maybe he’ll even slip in a finger or two.

“What’s that look, my flame? I’m just feeling up my wife!”

V = Volume (how loud is he, what sounds does he make)

Kyojuro grunts and moans a lot, not shying away from showing how much he’s enjoying himself. Sometimes he might get a little embarrassed by moaning too loudly, so he’d bury his face inside your neck while keeping a steady pace, whining a little at the feeling of you tightening around him. It makes him blush a little hearing the sounds he’s able to produce thanks to you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for him)

Kyojuro loves to have cuddly sex with you. Cuddles are already his favourite, so cockwarming him while he holds you close is the closest he can get to the holy gates of heaven. Feeling your warmth around his length makes him almost feel a little droopy, his face buried in your neck while trying to subtly grind his hips against yours to stimulate you as well. His hand would be tightly gripping onto your waist, steadying you while he gently thrusts inside you, not being able to handle just being inside you without moving.

“Can I move a little? I-I promise I’ll be gentle, love… Gods, I love you so so much..”

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes…)

He’s physically impressive, just like the rest of him. Kyojuro is well endowed and proportional to his tall, broad and muscular frame. Sometimes he’s nervous about hurting you, but your delightful moans reassure him pretty quickly. His thickness watches his wrist.

His pubic hair is taken care of but he’s not completely clean shaven.

(Again, sorry for this being so short and having no measures. I honestly have no idea XD)

Y = Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

Your husband’s drive is quite high given his passionate and energised personality, wich only increased after retirement. He will barely act on it though, being insecure about being too needy or too much for you. Instead, he suppresses his desires and waits until you come onto him first. That way he can be sure you really, really want him and are not just acting like you want to have sex just because he is horny.

The downside of him suppressing his lust is that it all comes out once you two have sex; he’ll eat you out, he’ll make you cum twice before even thinking about sliding his length in, and after he does, his hips smack against yours, creating an incredible lewd rhythm and loud moans.

Z = Zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterwards)

After a particularly long session, Kyojuro would be spent. He’d doze off almost immediately after making sure you’re okay and he didn’t got too harsh with you. His soft cheek would be pressed up against your arm, his snores vibrating through your whole body. His heavy arm would be draped over your chest. You couldn’t help but smile a little at how his squishy cheeks looked so cute and how cuddly he always got after sex. You can’t help but look forward to cooking together with him in the morning.

🎃

Hope it was worth the wait @akazasfiancee ! <3

Finally got this done! I hope you all enjoyed reading it<3 Again, thank you @erexart for the beautiful cover art, I’m so grateful for you being so patient and kind to be. I’ll be looking forward to seeing more of your gorgeous art!! Please go check her out!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3