Queen At Rehearsals For Their First Tour – July 8, 1973 Photo By Michael Putland

Can you write a sequel to the sparring levihan where they actually spar and end up doing the dirty? 🔥🔥💦

Hello!! Long time no see :) This is a sort-of sequel to the sparring fic but I'm afraid there's no sparring, only a heaping helping of frustration and sweet, blissful relief when the tension finally breaks. Anyway they fuck in a tent.

Ever since the sparring incident, Levi had found himself itching to be close to her, restless whenever they were in close proximity. His fingers would twitch at his sides and his eyes would wander helplessly, searching her, examining every inch until he had her form guiltily memorised, but he had always maintained some distance. He had deliberately kept Hange at arm's length, in spite of every screaming, feral instinct that begged for the opposite. His own apparent lack of control unnerved and frustrated him. Levi had been very careful, until now, not to put it to the test.

**

"Absolutely not."

"Oh c'mon Levi, it's one night!"

"No."

"You're being unreasonable."

"I'd rather crawl up a titans asshole and die than share a tent with you."

"That's a little hurtful, you know."

"Don't care."

Hange folded her arms and glared over at him. Levi averted his gaze coolly, rolling his eyes sideways to stare at the pasty, shivering recruit beside them, the ripped canvas of their own tent dangling pathetically from their hands. Levi had chewed them out enough already—this situation would have been perfectly avoidable if the idiot had checked their supplies before they set off—and they looked suitably abashed by the entire affair, but Levi curled his lip at them for good measure. They wilted under his gaze.

"Well, tough," Hange said. She turned to the recruit with an appeasing smile and handed over her own pack. "Use this for now. Please don't forget to check the condition of your own equipment in future."

The recruit nodded and snagged Hange's tent, scurrying away with a few fleeting, terrified glances at Levi as they went. Their fear was justified; Levi was feeling a little murderous, watching Hange scoop up his tent and march to a suitable location. He clenched his fists at his side and followed after her.

"Oi. Share with Mike."

Hange snorted. "He barely fits in his own tent."

"Nifa, then. Or Moblit."

Hange looked over her shoulder at him. "That'd be inappropriate."

"And this isn't? Piss off, Four-eyes."

"What's inappropriate? We're equals aren't we, Captain? It's just one night, I'm sure you can manage."

Levi disagreed. Vehemently. But he clamped his mouth shut, and watched Hange with some apprehension as she laid out the canvas and poles for Levi's tent, wishing it were simply an imbalance in status that bothered him so much.

Ever since the sparring incident, Levi had found himself itching to be close to her, restless whenever they were in close proximity. His fingers would twitch at his sides and his eyes would wander helplessly, searching her, examining every inch until he had her form guiltily memorised, but he had always maintained some distance. He had deliberately kept Hange at arm's length, in spite of every screaming, feral instinct that begged for the opposite. His own apparent lack of control unnerved and frustrated him. Levi had been very careful, until now, not to put it to the test.

They set up the tent in very one-sided conversation. Hange chatted endlessly as they worked, and Levi offered her half-assed grunts and monosyllabic responses until she ceased expecting anything from him at all, and talked continuously instead. Levi ground his teeth when her hand brushed his to pass him the hammer, her fingertips rough and warm, electric where they grazed his palm.

They had limited room to manoeuvre, within the tent. Hange laid their mats and blankets inside, and Levi managed to wedge both of their bags down where their feet would go, but the tents weren't designed for two sleepers—they were compact little things, just long enough and narrow enough for one well-built soldier. He eyed the mouth of the tent, and then slid his gaze sideways to where Hange stood, stooped to peer in as well.

"It'll be a squeeze," she said, straightening up. She jammed her hands on her hips and grinned at him. "But we'll manage."

Levi scowled. "Eat shit."

Hange seemed as unbothered as she ever was by his churlish response. She stretched well, her arms reaching high towards the pink sky, as though already preparing for the long, cramped night ahead. Levi followed the line of her body from her feet right up to the tips of her fingers; her long, lithe, lean frame was only accentuated by the belts of her gear, and Levi noticed for the first time how tight they were against her. They pinched into her thigh, the muscle bulging between the thin leather straps. Levi's mouth watered with the unbidden urge to sink his teeth into the firm flesh. He swallowed reflexively, and pulled his gaze away from her legs and up to her face, where, to his mortification, he found Hange watching him with a curious tilt of her head.

"Something wrong?" She asked. Levi curled his lip and turned away quickly to hide his flush, stomping towards the stone pit and throwing a few sticks into it to start a fire.

The evening passed strangely. Time seemed to drag on, caught between pointless conversation, listening to Hange talk animatedly with her squad while his own team listened with rapt attention over their steaming bowls of stew. It was, at the very least, a good excuse to watch her. It wasn't so obvious that he was staring when Hange was the centre of everyone's attention. And then, all too soon, the sun had fallen beyond the horizon and the sky had grown dark, lit by the pale glow of a full moon, and the soldiers were retiring to their own tents.

Hange stayed up to clear the dishes. She had waved away her squads proferred help, but it felt rude to go to bed without her, and so Levi squatted down beside her and wordlessly began rinsing the leftover bowls.

"You don't have to," Hange said, though gave no objection when he fished the bowl from her hand and dipped it into the pail.

"You'd do a shit job on your own," he said gruffly. He ran his thumbs around the inside of the shallow dish, sweeping greasy residue from the polished wood. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hange green. She shifted in her squat, settling by his side and taking the bowl when he held it out for her, running a grotty towel over it. Levi scowled. He wanted to berate her for using the dirty fabric on freshly washed dishes, but then she moved again, and her knee nudged into his own, and all decent thought was wiped abruptly from his mind.

Stupid, how such simple contact unbuckled him so easily. Her knee was warm through the fabric, and pressed more firmly against his own whenever she shifted to pile the bowls into their crate. It took an inordinate amount of concentration for Levi to continue his task; he slowed considerably, taking his time to rinse each dish, focusing intently on the feel of the grain beneath his fingertips, the way carved wood sloped in a low curve and rose again, catching his nail on the thin lip around the rim of the bowl. Anything to keep his mind occupied, to keep his thoughts from straying.

Hange hummed contentedly as she worked. The crackling fire was dimming, embers glowing bright in the darkness, and there was a constant, low hum of chatter as the soldiers readied themselves for bed. In any other circumstance, Levi might have called the atmosphere peaceful.

But the dishes were almost done. The food had been packed and hiked up a height, safe from any scavengers. The tents were set, and the first watch had settled at their posts. There was nothing peaceful at all, about the prospect of what was to come next.

Hange straightened up when the last dish was dried and packed, hefting the crate up into her arms. It must have been heavy, loaded with pots and pans, bowls and utensils, but Hange lifted it with little more than a quiet grunt as the weight settled in her arms. Levi's gaze caught on her hands. Long, thin fingers, rough and dry from manual labour and a chronic lack of self care. Veins webbed from her knuckles to her wrists, over her forearms, disappearing beneath the turned cuffs of her sleeves where she'd rolled them up. She gripped the edge of the box, her knuckles white under the strain.

"Thanks," Hange said. Levi blinked dazedly, and rolled his eyes up to her face. She blew a few loose strands of hair from her eyes and smiled brightly down at him. "I'll put these away and then we can settle for the night."

Levi's stomach knotted. He nodded mutely, straightening up and dusting himself down as Hange loaded the crate onto the cart, securing a tarp over it. Without her cloak, Levi could see the curve of her ass as she bent forward, accentuated by the leather straps curving beneath each cheek. He bit the inside of his mouth and turned away, painfully aware of the growing tightness in his groin.

Hange met him outside the tent. They stared into the mouth of it for a long while, silent. For Levi's part, he was prolonging the inevitable. Spending the night pressed up against Hange in a tiny one man tent was the stuff of his every fantasy; feeling the length of her body flush against his own, long, strong legs tangled with his, hearing her every breath panted in his ear. It was exciting. Tantalising.

It was also his worst fucking nightmare.

The Hange in his fantasies was a very different person to this Hange, who stood at his side, blissfully unaware. For all her smarts, Hange had failed to notice exactly what she did to him. She treated him like she did anybody else, all bright smiles and casual touches, ignorant of all the nights Levi spent with his hand down his pants, fisting his cock to the thought of her.

"Which side do you want?"

Levi rolled his eyes to the side, though he barely dared to look at her. He didn't much care either way. Finding comfort was going to be an impossible task, regardless of which side he slept on.

"Left," he said anyway. Hange nodded, and began toeing off her boots. Levi did the same, setting them just under the canopy in the slim chance it rained, and crawled quietly into the tent, flopping straight onto his side with his face to the canvas. He waited with his breath held for Hange to climb in behind him, but was met instead with the metallic click of buckles outside. Against his better judgement, Levi looked up.

Hange had already unfastened the strap across her chest and detached the back panel of her gear. She deftly unbuckled the belts at her hips and her thighs until they were loose enough, and then she wiggled, shimmying out of the leather harness. Levi choked. He covered the little noise with a gruff, "Oi. The hell are you doing?"

Hange looked up at him. Bent forward the way she was, her hair fell haphazardly about her face, messy and unkempt as ever. She blinked at him through her fringe, and cocked her head.

"Hm? Taking my gear off."

Levi scowled. "I can see that, shit head. Why?"

"...so I can...sleep? Comfortably? Like a normal person?"

She looked down again, stepping neatly out of the leather pooled around her feet. She tucked the straps under the canopy with their boots, and then, to Levi's horror, she unfastened the button on her pants, and pushed those down her legs, too.

"Hange," he hissed, barely averting his gaze. He was thankful for the darkness. The heat in his face was unbearable; the moonlight would hide his blush, at least a little. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"It's hot," she said. She ducked into the tent, stuffing her discarded pants down by their bags. "I'll sweat if I keep those on."

She was still kneeling in the mouth of the tent. Levi flashed his eyes to her, intent on keeping his gaze up, towards her face, but Hange's fingers were making quick work of her button-down shirt, and the fabric was beginning to splay open, revealing smooth skin, and the wrappings around her breasts.

"For fucks sake," he grumbled. He threw himself back onto his side, scowling at the canvas.

"What?"

"Have some fucking decency," he bit out. To his immense irritation, Hange only laughed.

"It's nothing you haven't seen before," she said. Which was true, technically. But Levi had pictured far more than this, far more than she could ever imagine, and the guilt of that sat heavy in his gut.

Levi lay stiffly as Hange finally clambered into the tent. She pulled the flaps closed, knotting the straps together tightly, and then flattened herself out over the mat and let out a long sigh.

"What a day," she mused quietly. Levi felt her shift behind him, and heard her small, strained groan as she stretched. Levi had wedged himself as close to the side of the tent as possible, but he could still feel her, brushing at his back whenever she moved.

He kicked his foot back, finding her calf and shoving her away. "Stick to your own side," he said, nudging her again. Hange kicked him back and she had the audacity, again, to laugh at him.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," she said, and Levi felt her move again. Her finger poked into the middle of his back. "But this tent is a little too small for sides. We'll just have to make do. I should warn you, I'm a hugger."

"Hug me and you're sleeping outside," Levi snapped. Hange snickered.

"You'd make a lady sleep out in the open?"

"Some lady. Stripping in a tent with a man."

Hange snorted, then made a dismissive noise, and Levi could picture her waving him off. "It's just you, so it's fine."

Levi frowned. He wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, and whether he was supposed to be offended by it or not. Either way, it wasn't fine. It was so fucking far from fine.

"I suppose I'm not much of a lady, anyway," Hange said, almost absently. Levi grunted his agreement. If she had expected him to refute her, she didn't sound at all disappointed by his lacklustre response. She laughed quietly, and shifted again. Her body felt hot at his back, too close. "Say, Levi?"

"What."

"Do you like women?"

Levi thought guiltily of Hange and his every sordid fantasy, every wayward thought he'd had about her of late. Did he like women? It was hard to say. Levi had never given it much thought before. He'd had sex, a handful of times, but his experiences had not been limited to women, and none had been borne of any distinct attraction. Before Hange, Levi had never particularly desired any one person.

"None of your business," Levi said, in lieu of a proper answer.

Hange huffed behind him. He could picture that pout of hers, the comical, exaggerated jut of her lip, and quick as a flash it was gone again, replaced by a grin that reflected perfectly in her tone when she said, "I'm curious. For all we've talked, I don't know a whole lot about you."

"Stay curious."

"Gaaah, you're no fun, Levi," she drawled. Levi felt her loom closer behind him. He snatched up one of the blankets lumped beneath them and yanked it free, pulling it over himself. It was a thin barrier, but a barrier nonetheless.

Hange must have taken the hint. She said nothing more, but she tossed and turned for a long while as she tried to get comfortable, sighing and huffing in the heat.

Levi was acutely aware of her presence. It set him on edge, body stiffening every time she so much as twitched behind him. His brain worked in overdrive, listening for every little noise outside the tent, or counting the stitches along a seam in the canvas, anything to avoid thinking about Hange. She was so, agonisingly close, and in the confined space he could smell her, salty and earthy as usual, and he could hear her breathing, settling into a long, slow rhythm as she fell into sleep.

It was too easy to imagine a million different scenarios. How simple it would be to roll over now, cover Hange's half bare body with his own. To nudge her legs apart with his knee and settle into the cradle of her thighs, kiss her lips—softly parted as she sleeps—and rouse her awake. He could so vividly imagine the way she would feel, hot and wet through the thin fabric of her underwear, pliant against the press of his cock as he grinds into her. It would be so easy. Too fucking easy.

He shook the thought from his head, curling his hands into tight fists. He felt too hot, a little dizzy in the cramped space. His cock was hard, and Hange made a soft sound in her sleep, somewhere between a sigh and a moan. Levi bit his lip and turned his face into his pillow. Torture. That's what this one; some cruel punishment, and Levi suspected he deserved it, the way he had been thinking about her lately.

He willed himself to calm down, breathing evenly, deeply. His eyes stung, itching with tiredness, but his every muscle was too tense, on edge. And whenever sleep threatened, his mind wandered,  straying dangerously to thoughts of Hange, her bright smile and the lilt of her laughter as Levi pins her down, her wrists clamped above her head in one of his hands. The tent is small and cramped and Hange's breath misted on his face as she giggled, sweet and lilting, breaking into a moan when Levi slid his hand down between them, over her belly, beneath the waistband of her underwear.

He jolted awake again. Cursing quietly, he shifted, adjusting the crotch of his pants to alleviate some of the pressure. Sleep fogged his mind, pulling him under time and time again and teasing him with dream after agonising dream of Hange. Sometimes she was just looking at him, her head cocked in that curious way as she waited for him to speak, to do something. And sometimes her gaze was darker, low and hooded, and her hands and lips met him half way when he moved to her. Sometimes she was already putty in his hands, whining and writhing against the rumpled blankets, and sometimes the tight heat of her was frighteningly real, vice-like around his cock.

He woke again and again, sudden and disoriented. Struggling to shake the pictures from his mind before he tumbled back into sleep.

In the next dream, Hange was pressed snug up against his front. He was molded to the curves and contours of her body, his knees wedged into the crook of her legs, hips flush to her ass, his chest to her back. Her hair tickled his nose, and he tucked his face into the nap of her neck to escape the feathery feeling. She felt so warm against him, and the curve of her ass was soft against his cock. He was sleepy, in this dream, drifting in and out of consciousness, but Hange's body was a constant, pressed tightly back into his front.

She shifted against him, wriggling her hips back, and Levi snaked an arm around her waist to pull her in tighter. His hips pressed forward, slow and lazy; she felt good on his aching cock, deliciously pliant. He let out a breathless moan against her neck, and Hange made a quiet, pleased sound in return.

The pleasure built slowly, this time around. Levi was in no hurry, content to sleepily rut against her. Hange's breathing picked up some, shorter and shallower, broken now and then with tiny, thready moans when Levi ground harder into her. He flattened his palm on her belly—the skin was softer than he'd ever imagined before, smooth and hot, twitching beneath the tickle of his fingertips. A memory swam forward, of Mike, all those months ago, pinching so easily at her side, and he wondered if Mike had ever touched her like this. The thought reared something ugly and possessive in him. His fingers dug into her skin, dragging her back, and his mouth nudged against the skin of her shoulder, teeth scraping there. Hange gasped, but made no move to pull away.

He could taste the sweat on her. Her skin was gritty on his tongue from the dry, dusty air. It should have been unpleasant, maybe, enough to turn him off, but Hange tilted her head against the pillow, exposing more of her neck to him, and Levi obliged helplessly.

"Ah, Levi..." She breathed his name like a prayer, quiet, but it boomed in the cramped tent. Levi's cock jumped, hips flexed. He nipped at her again, revelling in the way his name had sounded, spilling almost silently from her lips.

Everything was so vivid. The way she tasted, the way she felt. Her quick, panted breaths and the quiet little whines that bled through, bitten off to keep quiet—sensible, Levi thought, sucking a bruise into the crook of her neck. They were in a tent, after all. Anyone could hear them.

Except, Hange had never bothered keeping quiet before, in his other dreams. She had been incredibly vocal, whether she was laughing, or moaning, or crooning obscenities in his ear. He had never been able to taste her, either. Never felt each grain of dirt on his tongue.

He blinked groggily.

Moonlight crept through thin spots in the canvas where the seams connected. The spilled like light through a cracked door, slanting into the tent, but Levi's view of it was obscured by a head of messy brown hair.

He blinked again.

Hange—Hange, real and whole, not a dream—was pressed flush to his front, and she was panting breathlessly, her stomach rising and falling sporadically beneath his hand where he held her tight. She squirmed, and Levi bit off a groan. He was hard. Painfully hard, cock wedged against Hange's ass.

"Shit." Levi's voice was thick and hoarse from sleep and arousal. He moved sluggishly, pulling his face away from her neck, the beginnings of shame and disgust roiling in his gut. What had he done? Lost control, is what he'd done, humped his comrade—his superior—like a dirty fucking dog. An animal. "Shit. Fuck. Sorry, Hange—"

He had tried to slide his hand from her waist, but Hange caught him about the wrist and held him tightly. He stilled, frozen. Her grip was firm, but not painful. Levi wouldn't have blamed her for crushing his wrist if she'd wanted to. He deserved that much. But she didn't, just guided his hand back to her belly, and pressed until he splayed his fingers against her again. She wriggled, and Levi muffled a sudden grunt against her back; the move teased his cock mercilessly.

"Sorry," he said again, reflexive. He felt Hange shake her head.

"It's fine. It's—" she moved again, more insistent, this time. Levi's hips curved helplessly forward, seeking pressure, friction, and Hange let out a shuddering breath, pushing back to meet him. She bit back another sound. Levi's fingers curled at the noise, pads pressing into the soft skin of her stomach.

"Fuck," Levi said again. This couldn't be happening, couldn't be real. Only in his wildest fucking fantasies could he have Hange like this. But it was real. The way she rolled her hips back was real, and the soft, barely contained sounds bleeding out of her were real, and the way she gripped his wrist again, pushed his hand down this time, low, lower, until he was cupping her over her underwear—that was so very real.

"Shit, Hange," Levi breathed. He ran his fingers over her. She was wet, drenched through the fabric, heat radiating from her and her hips shuddered when Levi stroked a line over her, breath jumping. She took him by the back of the hand and moved him where she wanted her, applying pressure—just as brazen as he'd imagined her to be. He let her lead him, circling over her clit in a way that made her tremble, body curling in on itself. She whined, turned her face into the pillow to muffle the sound.

Levi curled with her. He bit at her shoulder again, delighting in the way it made her tremble while his fingers worked her over.

He had imagined this more times than he could count. Far more than he'd ever care to admit. The way she would feel, the way she would sound—the way she would look. He couldn't see her like this, with her face buried in her pillow, and he was struck by the sudden urge that he wanted to. Hange might regret this in the morning, she might hate him for it. If she was giving him this one chance, he wanted to make the most of it.

He pulled his hand from between her legs and raised himself up. Hange gave a disappointed whine, turned her face to look at him as he moved over her, hovering.

She blinked tired eyes up at him. She looked just like Hange always looked, sans glasses, with her messy hair and chapped lips and dirt smeared on her skin, but the streak of moonlight cast her in a soft, pale glow, glinting in her eyes and catching on the soft pink of her cheeks. The effect was so jarring it made him pause. He froze staring down at her, until Hange moved to lie on her back, and her hands crept up to his waist, pinching into his shirt.

"Why'd you stop?" She asked, voice barely above a whisper. It's such an innocent question, and Hange said it so simply, as though she were asking for something as innocuous as a massage, like Levi hadn't been dry humping her in his sleep. He dipped low, eyes darting over her face, falling again and again to her lips. Dry, cracked, stupid fucking lips.

Levi moved closer. Hesitated. He gave Hange time to move, if she wanted to, to push him away, but she watched him with that infuriatingly calm gaze, and Levi's composure broke.

He kissed her like he was angry with her. He was, in a way; angry that she had insisted on sharing a tent, angry that she had stripped down to her underwear right next to him, like it was nothing. Like it would have no effect on him. Angry that she looked the way she did, sounded the way she did, angry that he could never quite get her out of his head. Their teeth cracked painfully, but Hange opened her mouth to him readily, her tongue licking quick and sharp behind his teeth, against the roof of his mouth. She kissed him back like she had been starving for it. Levi allowed himself a moment to wonder (hope, maybe) that she had been.

He nudged her legs apart with his knee. She shifted easily, making space for him to settle between her spread thighs, and Levi felt the hitch of her breath when he touched her again, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of her underwear this time. He thumbed at her clit, rubbed his fingers over her opening, and Hange canted her hips into him, hissing her yes against his lips.

It's a funny thing, how loud every little thing becomes when quiet is a necessity. Hange's ragged breathing echoed like thunder, every hitch and start painfully audible in the quiet night. The rustle of the sheets and the wet, smacking sound of his fingers fucking into her, sloppy, sucking kisses and Levi's own breath, shaking and dragging rough in his throat, all of it was unbearably loud. He kissed her soundly, swallowing her moans, trying to keep her quiet. The others should be sleeping, and the watch stations were a little way from the campsite; they should be fine, but Levi wasn't willing to take the risk. The last thing he wanted was word of this indiscretion getting around, getting back to Mike or Erwin. Great big bastards with their stupid smug looks. He couldn't stand even the thought of it.

He bit at her bottom lip and Hange whimpered, her hips rolling up into his hand, seeking more from his fingers. He nipped at her again. His cock jumped at the sound she made. He dragged his lips from her mouth to her jaw, scraping his teeth along the sharp line of bone there, and down to her neck, where he sucked the skin up and laved his tongue over it.

He kissed down to her collar, her chest, running his lips over the top of the wrapping there. One of Hange's hands settled on his shoulder, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, and the other sunk into the hair atop his head, tugging enough to sting.

He had predicted Hange to be a demanding thing in bed. Still, it surprised him when she began pushing him down, past her chest, her belly, guiding his face between her legs. He stopped there and scowled up at her, waver her hand away from his head where she had been shoving him.

"Brat," he hissed. Hange grinned lazily down at him, evidently proud of herself. Levi was less than gentle when he gripped her hips and hiked her right up the length of her mat, until the top of her head bumped into the canvas, so that he could settle between her legs more comfortably. Maybe, in another circumstance, Levi might have teased her. Drawn this out more. Took his time with her, exploring every inch of skin from ankle to hip with his tongue and lips and teeth, bite marks into the soft, scarred skin. But Hange was persistent, demanding. Her fingers threaded back into his hair as Levi pulled her underwear down and she tugged him in insistently, anging her cunt up to his mouth.

Up close, Levi could smell her; heady, dizzying. He nuzzled his mouth and nose into her, the tip of his tongue drawing a line up the seam of her, circling her clit before he cupped his lips around her, sucking gently. Her hips bucked up and a shaky, unsteady moan bled out of her.

"Shut up," Levi warned, muffled. He slid his hands under her ass, gripping her cheeks and pulling her hips closer to his face.

He made a meal of her, like he had done in every daydream, every fantasy. Lapped at her, sucked at her, drank her down, and Hange writhed and panted just like he'd always thought she would, desperate against him. She had a hand clamped tight over her mouth but it did little to quiet her, and her hitched, stuttered breathing carried loud in the quiet night.

"Shit, Levi," she groaned, strained, when he crooked two fingers into her. "That's—yeah, like—like that, oh fuck."

Levi hummed quietly against her. He could feel her throbbing beneath his lips and tongue, her walls fluttering around his fingers. She breathed quick and harsh, chanting his name in a whisper that grew in pitch, and then she stifled, silent, beautifully taut, before the pressure snapped. She came with a short, sharp cry, too loud, her body shuddering and twitching as Levi worked her through, swallowing the rush of fluid on his tongue.

He pulled away, rubbing his mouth against her thigh to wipe some of the wetness away. "Too fucking loud," he muttered. He nipped at her trembling thigh for good measure before he drew himself up onto his hands and knees, and made his way back up her body.

Even in a situation like this, Hange offered affection easily. She greeted him with a happy, satisfied smile, her arms wrapping loosely around his neck as he crawled his way up to meet her, drawing him in dizzyingly close. She kissed him, just a peck, at first, gentle and bare, but when Levi pulled back, face sour as he said, "that's fucking gross, four-eyes," she laughed lazily and pulled him in again, licking at his messy lips and coaxing him into a something deeper. It should have been disgusting, with the lower half his face wet and slick, but the smell of her was heady in his nose, and Hange made low, quiet noises each time she sucked at his lip, tasting herself, and Levi couldn't really bring himself to mind.

Hange's hands roamed over his shoulders, down his back. She dug her fingers beneath the back plate of his gear and tugged it, huffing into his mouth.

"This is why I don't sleep in gear," she said into his mouth. "I want your shirt off."

Levi pulled back, straddling her hips and sitting up to unfastened the buckle across his chest.

"I don't think this is why," he said. Hange had already unfastened the straps at his hips, and had moved on to the main belt at his waist. He hissed when her knuckles brushed his cock through his pants, hips bucking forward involuntarily.

"Mm, maybe not. But it's a good side effect." Hange splayed her hands over his hips as he pushed the harness back and off. She smoothed her palms down his thighs and up again, content to simply watch rather than help as he unfastened the belts there.

It was awkward, kicking his way out of the leather in the tiny tent. Hange giggled at him the entire time, openly delighted at his struggle, and the smile didn't leave her face even as Levi put on his best scowl.

"Grumpy," she laughed. Her hands reached for his face when he folded back over her, her thumb smoothing the wrinkled skin between his brows. "Careful. If the wind changes you'll get stuck like that."

Levi scowled deeper, defying her pull on his skin, and Hange laughed again—too bright, too loud. He should have shushed her again, but something in her big, open smile, her brazen happiness, stalled him.

She drew him so easily into another kiss. Levi followed her down helplessly, stretching his legs out, nudging his way back between her thighs while her fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. She pushed it back from his shoulders and ran her palms over the exposed skin of his back. He could feel every callus on her palms and fingers, the rough spots catching and scratching. The sensation made his hips twitch, and Hange laughed throatily every time, switching to scrape her nails from his shoulders and down his back. Levi hissed, biting her tongue.

"Sensitive," Hange mused. She soothed him, rubbing her thumbs in small circles while she licked long and slow into his mouth.

Levi had expected fucking Hange to be quick and rough, a desperate release after so much pathetic pining. He hadn't expected anything like this—not the soft touches, or the kisses, or the laughter. Not the way Hange's hands worked his pants open while she sucked on his tongue, pushing his pants and underwear down the length of his legs until she could reach no more. She brought her legs up and used her feet—disgusting—to shimmy them the rest of the way down. Levi kicked them off, and then the pair of them were bare save for Hange's breast wrappings. She seemed in no hurry to take them off. She hadn't sought his touch there, guided neither his hands or his mouth to her chest, but she must have caught him staring for she tilted her head, and looked down at the wrappings herself.

"I can take it off, if you want," she said. Levi's eyes rolled up to her face. For the first time, something uncomfortable reflected there. Something uncertain. Levi leaned down to kiss at the soft spot beneath her jaw.

"It's fine," he said. Hange let out a long sigh—relief, he suspected—and wound her arms around his neck.

It was Hange who moved first, spreading her legs and curling her thighs up against his hips, so that his cock brushed temptingly against her cunt. She nipped at his mouth, catching his bottom lip between her teeth and biting down hard enough to ache.

"What're you waiting for? Fuck me," She muttered, running her tongue over his throbbing lip. Levi growled low in his throat and bit back, teeth gnashing, barely catching her tongue. She yelped and dropped her head to the pillow with an exaggerated pout.

"That wasn't sexy," she said. Levi shifted his weight onto one elbow and slipped the other hand between them. He stared, transfixed, at the way Hange's eyelids fluttered when his knuckles brushed her belly, her hips.

"Wasn't supposed to be," Levi said. "Was supposed to shut you up."

"Mission failed."

"I can fucking hear that."

Hange grinned, and Levi drew his fingers down to the joint of her thigh, gliding over the slick skin. Hange made an airy, breathless sound, when Levi took his cock in hand and pressed it up against her cunt.

Hange wasn't the type to beg. She'd showed him as much, dragging him here and there, taking what she wanted from him without hesitation. Her nails dug into the back of his neck, her eyes screwed shut, and her mouth fell open with a gasped, "please," and Levi didn't have the strength to deny her.

She felt fucking phenomenal. Maybe, if he'd had more control, more discipline, he'd have teased her. Pushed in a little way, let her feel the stretch and withdrew, fucked her with short, shallow, languid strokes until she was crying for more, for him to fill her so deep she could feel it in her gut. He'd have taken his time, savoured every small detail. But he was a desperate man, and he slid into her quickly and all at once, until they were flush together. Hange sucked a few frantic breaths at the intrusion and Levi buried a low moan in the crook of her neck.

"Fuck, Hange," he rasped. His voice grated in the quiet night, too loud. Hange wheezed in his ear, air shuddering in uneven bursts from her chest. Her nails raked into his skin. He drew his face up slowly, nose brushing along her cheek until he could look at her. She looked back at him through low, hooded eyes, lips wet and open. "You good?"

Hange nodded. She snaked her hands up into his hair and pulled him down, into a kiss far softer than Levi had expected. "Good," she breathed. "Move."

Levi obeyed her without thought or question. Hange breathed ragged and open-mouthed against his lips, quiet, airy moans catching in her throat every time Levi's hips snapped forward. Every tiny sound rang out boldly in the quiet night; Hange's rough, staggered gasps and Levi's own panting breaths, grunts muffled behind clenched teeth; skin on skin, sharp and distinct, growing louder when Hange's blunt nails dug long welts into his back, when her legs curled up around his hips, urging him on. Too damn loud, but it was impossible to care with Hange all but whimpering his name, kissing wet and clumsy at his lips.

Levi had fantasised about this moment more than he'd ever dare to admit, and still, he was woefully unprepared. He had expected her to be rough, demanding, dominating—and perhaps she would be without the dark and the quiet, without the flimsy illusion of privacy the tent afforded them. But she was quiet now, muffling her sounds into deep, dizzying kisses as Levi's thrusts faltered.

"Fuck," Levi hissed, gritting his teeth. "Gonna come."

Hange let out a throaty chuckle, her nails scraping up the back of his neck and into his hair. "Quick."

"Piss off," Levi grumbled. He snaked a hand between them, clumsily pressing against her clit—she aborted her snickering abruptly with a twitch and a throaty, surprised moan, and Levi watched as her eyes squeezed closed, face scrunched and mouth stupidly open. She looked ridiculous. Levi kissed her again.

"Hurry up," he muttered, stroking her faster, fighting to keep the sharp jerk of his hips even. "Come already."

Hange's second orgasm ripped from her more violently than the first. She came with a protracted moan, bordering on a sob, her nails digging painfully into Levi's back.

"Thank fuck," Levi said, voice tight as he gave in to the building tension, fucking into her too quick, too rough, too loud, and barely pulling out in time to spill over her trembling belly.

Levi collapsed beside Hange, laying heavily on his side. She lolled her head over to look at him, an idle grin spreading over her face.

"That wasn't what I was getting at, you know. When I said we should share a tent. Or when I took my clothes off."

"Or when you rubbed yourself all over me while I slept?"

"You started that." Levi huffed quietly, but said nothing in return. Hange sighed and stretched as much as she could in the cramped space. "Not that I minded. I was wondering if you'd ever do more than just look."

Levi shot her a questioning look. "Ah?"

Hange shrugged, rolling onto her side and curling an arm beneath her head. Like this, her knee brushed lightly against Levi's—her skin felt warm and soft as she slipped her legs to tangle effortlessly with his, shuffling closer. Her smile was soft and easy, but there was something mischievous in the pinch of her eyes.

"You're not all that subtle."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Hange said, leaning forward and whispering, conspiratorial, "that maybe you shouldn't stare so much if you don't wanna get caught."

With nothing to say to defend himself, Levi kissed his teeth and knocked his forehead against Hange's a little harder than necessary. He pulled back, and watched with some satisfaction as Hange scowled, rubbing at her aching brow.

"You know, you've got a funny way of showing affection," she said, pouting.

"Who said I'm being affectionate?"

Hange pointedly ignored him. She wiggled impossibly closer instead, and Levi watched her with equal parts interest and trepidation as the smile on her face grew wider, and without warning, she lurched for him, arms squeezing around his waist and hitting him with enough force to knock him onto his back. He gusted out a heavy breath, while Hange wriggled around on top of him, adjusting to get comfortable. Something slimy, wet, and rapidly cooling smeared across his belly as she shifted, and Levi swore quietly.

"Oi," he hissed, knocking a closed fist to the top of Hange's head. "Stop moving. You're making a mess."

Hange only hummed, unbothered, and propped her pointed chin on Levi's chest, looking up at him with a disarming smile.

"Mmm, no, you made a mess. I'm just making it worse."

She shimmied more rapidly, and Levi grimaced, snapping his hands down to her hips to still her. "You're vile. Get up."

"No. I'm pretty comfortable—you're not as bony as you look, Captain."

Levi clicked his tongue. "Move, or I'll move you myself."

Hange squeezed her arms tight around his back and dug her chin into his chest. "Try your best. I'm stronger than I look!"

Levi glared down at her, took in the shine of her eyes in the low, pale light, and the smile stretching her cheeks, and flushed hot at the obscene, unwelcome urge to stretch forward and kiss her. Just kiss her. For no real reason other than she looked...nice, and he wanted to.

Instead, he wound his own arms around Hange's back, and with a heave, he threw both of them sideways, Hange's back hitting the floor with a thump. He used her moment of shock to sit up out of her grip and straddled her hips to keep her pinned, one hand planted squarely on her chest so she couldn't sit up while the other fished around for any discarded fabric that wasn't his own clothes. He scooped up Hange's shirt and wiped at her belly with it, clearing up the mess of sticky, drying come, and then wiped himself down.

Hange let out an indignant squawk. "Is that my shirt?"

"It's not mine," Levi said. Hange opened her mouth to say something else, something loud, probably, given the great lungful of air she sucked in, but before she could yell Levi dropped the soiled fabric over her face, and he watched with his teeth clamped onto the inside of his cheek as she scrambled to pull it off.

"And you said I was vile," she huffed. Hange waved the messy shirt between them. "I have to wear this tomorrow, y'know."

Levi took it and set it to one side, as far away from himself as possible, and looked down at Hange with a half shrug.

"Now it's about as nasty as the rest of you."

"Well now you're just being mean."

Levi shuffled off of her. It was awkward, redressing in the confines of the tent, with Hange snorting whenever he bumped into the canvas. But there was something about the ease with which she sprawled herself over the mat, head pillowed on her arm, eyes glinting as she watched him, that felt oddly nice. Warm, and comfortable.

The feeling was foreign, but not unwelcome. Hange tucked herself in, shimmying her legs beneath one of the thin blankets, yawning widely as she did. The space between them felt oddly cold and empty now, without Hange's body pressed against his own. He shifted a leg until his knee bumped against hers, and Hange winked a sleepy eye open to look at him.

"What happened to staying to your own side?" She murmured.

"Tents too small for sides," he said. Hange grinned lazily, and leaned forward until her forehead brushed against his, tickling at his fringe. Entirely too close, but Levi found he didn't mind all that much.

The quiet and the closeness was relaxing, in a strange way. With his pent up energy expended and Hange's contagious enthusiasm doused by sleep, Levi's earlier tiredness crept back in, and soon enough he felt himself drifting too. He blinked heavily and watched Hange's face, slack as she slept on. Even now, something about her drew him in, though there was a new warmth in his chest now, a tightness that squeezed the air from his lungs.

Slowly, he reached up, and brushed Hange's unruly hair out of her face. She shifted minutely, turning into the touch. Levi stared at her as she settled, tucking her cheek down into the pillow, and a terrible thought occurred to him. And compared to this, wanting Hange in his bed seemed like a very minor issue.

"Ah. Shit."

Liking Hange is a much larger problem.

Joel fucks/fingers/dry humps/etc. reader under a blanket during movie night in Jackson. I don’t care what they do as long as Joel comes. I like thinking about Joel coming 😈

🥵 you're in luck, this has been on my mind after revisiting the one who talks dirty in Spanish. We can pick up after she gets him all horny before the movie in Jackson. Master List

Movie night (in public)

850 | horny!Joel x horny!Reader | nsfw 18+ HJ, sex, and cockwarming in public, mild dubcon, cum eating

You and Joel go home for a quickie before the outdoor movie night. He has you pinned on the couch with your hand down his pants when you hear a knock at the front door, then it unlocks. You scoot out from under Joel to sit upright while he buckles his belt and Tommy yells, "Y’all comin’?”

“Ehhh I dunno about tonight. This one’s tired,” Joel says and squeezes your knee affectionately. There’s a good reason he’s not standing up.

“Bring a blanket,” Tommy says. “Joel’s a good pillow, nice and soft.”

“Hey now,” Joel says. Tommy just stands there waiting. Joel sighs. “Alright, grab a blanket, let's go.”

You go get a quilt and a big blanket. When you come back down in a flowy dress, the look on Joel’s face says he knows exactly why. He goes to the bathroom before y'all leave and comes out without a belt.

You set up in the darkest corner of the lawn behind everyone else. Joel sits on the quilt wiith his knees bent and you get in between them, resting your head back on his chest with the blanket draped over both of you while people continue to arrive to the event. He wraps his arms around you, and scoots his hard-on into you. He gathers the skirt of your dress out of the way and strokes your inner thigh. When he reaches your outer lips he growls “bad girl” into your neck, although he's not surprised you skipped the panties. Two thick fingers drag along your dripping seam and his hardness swells into you.

He nibbles at your neck and his fingers circle your clit. He could get you off this way and no one would know, but what you really want is his cock. You want him to come in public. It turns you on so much to think about, and he’s never let you do it. It’s always him making you come while he stays totally composed and in control.

You reach back and wedge a hand between your bodies, palming him over his jeans. He breathes deeply and doesn’t stop you. You unbutton his jeans. Then you reach outside the blanket for his backpack and put it behind him like a pillow. “I’m tired, can Iay on you?”

“Sure, baby.”

You get on your side in the crook of his arm with your head on his shoulder, your hand on his chest, and hook your leg over his closest leg. Then your hand drifts down under the blanket, unzips him, and reaches in to relieve his stiff, aching cock. "Tengo ganas," (I want it) you whisper as you stroke him. He clenches his jaw and looks conflicted.

"I don't think so, baby."

You slowly rotate yourself on top of him anyway. His hard cock is between his shirt and yours, below your belly button. "No one's watching," you whisper.

You move your dress and slowly get higher up on him, straddling him in a koala hug and you throb against him. He inhales sharply when his cock feels your dripping seam.

"Solamente la punta" (just the tip) you beg barely audibly as you drag yourself along his member.

"Kinda cold. Wanna sit still?"

You've done this before and know what he means. You can't pass up the chance to have him inside you.

You drag your wet pussy up his cock again then nestle it at your entrance. He lifts his hips into you and you begin to sink onto him, managing not to gasp at the delicious stretch. His big hands brace on your hips and help you down. He lifts his hips again, pulls you down, and you have to suppress a moan as he bottoms out.

He grunts ever so softly. "Don't move," he says.

You lie there with him inside you, resting your head in the crook of his neck, while he watches the movie. Your hips want to move, but you manage to stay still.

He occasionally twitches and barely moves his hips. You want to get him off and try to slide off him, but his hands still you and he says "where you goin'?" You stay.

When his twitching becomes more frequent, he finally lets you slide off his cock. You get back on your side, bring your leg over his, rest your head on his chest, and stroke him. You keep his cock as close to his body as possible to not make it obvious. It doesn't take long before he reaches down and lifts up his shirt. He takes a deep breath, then pulses in your hand. There's a barely audible grunt, but it's the quietest you've ever heard him.

He buries his mouth in the crown of your head as he finishes coming onto his lower belly and your fist, then his whole body relaxes. You lick his cum off your hand then use two fingers to gather as much of it as you can off his skin. You swallow that, too. He kisses you on the head and you actually do fall asleep as you watch the rest of the movie.

-

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione

If you like this one I recommend Speakeasy and Picnic Table.

Please write a story where Marc and Jake tease Steven for being soft in bed so he becomes this dominant rough guy who overstims the reader IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS ALL DAY I JUST DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE IT DOWN

a/n: idk how to write it down either, but i'll give it a shot! btw, marc and jake would never talk to steven like this, but just for the sake of the story they're assholes :( also sorry this is a YEAR late 0-0

cw: smut (18+), voyeurism (3x), f!masturbation, mean/ooc!marc + jake, rough sex, overstimulation, oral (f!recieving), multiple orgasms!, slightly possessive lovemaking, slight breeding kink (creampie), sad-ish/insecurity, feelings, dom-ish!steven, fluff -- (idk why it got so soft so fast im sorry), L-bombs, commentary from the other moon boys~

wc: 3.5k

masterlist

---

he watches from the doorway as you whine and mewl on the bed, desperately attempting to get yourself off.

your whole body glistens with heat as you squirm under the dull lighting of the room-- clearly, you've been at this for a while.

you are dressed in a familiar white undershirt that is definitely from the boys' closet, but your bottom half is bare and spread out, dripping onto the comforter as your fingers work their magic.

a perfect eye-full for your 3-in-1 boyfriend.

"this is why you're not allowed to have her on the weekends." marc taunts from a nearby mirror, though his eyes are locked on your writhing body. steven clenches his jaw as the grating voice in his head pulls him away from the alluring scene in front of him.

god knows why he decided to put up so many mirrors in the flat. it's like he's trying to drive himself crazy.

your eyes are squeezed shut as your finger delicately circles against your clit, spreading your slick all over your pulsing cunt until wet sounds begin to fill the air. you suck on your bottom lip as you frantically tease the sensitive bud, your legs tense from the build-up, and your back arches off the mattress.

"she needs a real man to take care of her after a long week of work."

that irks steven.

you've never talked about being unsatisfied by his slower pace -- by his need to savor each look, sound, and touch that you give him.

of course, jake needs to chime in as well, "look at our girl, stevie, she's so needy. let me have the body. i'll give her what she needs."

steven tries to block them out, but it's hard when their voices are coming straight from his own mind.

when he thinks back on your time together, everything is perfect. at least to him, it is.

he loves hearing your soft breathy moans, tasting the sweetness of your pussy dripping from his kitten licks, and feeling those delicate kisses that you share as you ride him gently. you fall apart in his arms, hold him close, and exchange whispered 'i love you's.

sure, he's always been the softer side of the three -- kissing over jake's bites or gently caressing marc's bruises -- but he thought you liked that. he thought that was enough.

but now you're getting yourself off without even seeking him out first.

you're close, so fucking close, panting out stuttered breathes, thighs clenching together, and body shaking, but --

"fuck!"

it's not enough.

your heart beats rapidly against your chest as you start to come down from that unreachable peak you've been chasing all day. as your foggy mind finally clears up, you sense someone at the door.

"s-steven!" you're surprised to see him, especially just standing there, watching you fail to pleasure yourself.

his work shifts have been running later and later since marc's last mission (donna is forcing him to work unpaid overtime instead of firing him) so you weren't expecting him until dinner time.

the shifts have been brutal for him.

these days, he just eats sleep for dinner, too tired to do more than just collapse on the couch and cuddle you. you've tried to convince him to just quit, that jake's cab escapades and marc's more 'eccentric' job opportunities can pay for everything, but he really loves the job, despite the weirdly toxic work environment.

"darling."

it's a flat greeting, a tone you've never heard from his lips, especially not when he's fronting. he doesn't seem happy to see you. actually, he looks quite upset.

you cover yourself up with a blanket, suddenly uncomfortable with your partial nudity when he's unhappy like this.

"why are you back so early?" the usual glimmer in his eyes is snuffed out, instead replaced with an eerie darkness. "what's--are you okay, honey?"

"take it off."

"w-what?" you know he's referring to the blanket, but the way he demanded it --

"off."

you hesitantly move the blanket, revealing the evidence of your unfulfilled desperation. you shyly look up at him, embarrassed and terribly turned on that he's making you do this.

you can't help but press your thighs together, already feeling another spark of heat simply from seeing your darling boyfriend with his head of messy curls.

"keep them open."

you obey his command and spread your legs, leaning back to give him a good view. his eyes meet your center, the frustration you couldn't get rid of. you immediately see need blooming in his body, particularly under his slacks.

soft-spoken steven has never been as forthcoming as his counterparts, but he doesn't need to be, his body does all the talking for him.

you're watching each other as he slowly approaches you, tension thick in the air. he's so desperate to give you exactly what you need and deserve.

steven's mind runs through all the times he had stuck around while marc and jake fucked you.

the first time it happened, he didn't mean to watch through marc's eyes, but once he saw how easily you submitted for him, how utterly ruined you are once marc is done with you, he couldn't help but pop in once in a while.

steven nearly flushes in shame from the memory. he's so perverted...

marc is possessive, steven learned. he likes to know that you're his. he marks you up with his hands and mouth so you'll never forget who you belong to, then he makes you scream his name as you reach your high as he fucks his cum into you.

of course, you're happy to give him whatever he demands, laying right where he wants you and taking anything he'd give you.

jake's methods are different: he makes you cry.

it's the overstimulation that gets him off the best. the sight of your body shaking and writhing to get away from his insatiable touch gets him hard, makes him growl against your tacky skin. he gets off to getting you off, and you love it.

so maybe a mixture of both is what you need.

he can do that.

"i need you to do something for me." he curses inwardly at how soft his voice is when he talks to you. it's a reflex. he's supposed to be confident and rough.

"anything." you breathe out.

"turn around for me, love." he's standing right by the bed, leaning over you. "on all fours."

the surface of your body ripples with goosebumps as you position yourself on the bed for him. he hasn't even touched you and you're already humming with pleasure.

you hear him sigh behind you before he shuffles closer and delicately caresses your bare hips and bottom with warm hands. you feel yourself melt against the mattress as you drop from holding yourself up by your hands to leaning on your forearms. he always makes you feel soft and cozy, even with the simple contact of his hand against your body.

steven watches you arch your back as you get comfortable, hungrily taking in the way you unconsciously push your ass toward him. you're effortlessly sexy to him. you could simply put your hair up into a ponytail and he'd be rock-hard in his slacks from seeing your bare neck. so this...is distracting him.

"so..." marc's voice pulls him out of his thoughts, "you gonna do anything or just stare at her all night?"

"I'm working on it!" steven grits out (in his mind).

"alright, show me how it's done then, loverboy."

you gasp quietly as steven suddenly forces your legs to spread wider for him. you would have lost your balance if it weren't for his steady hold on you.

he slowly kneels in front of the bed, briefly adjusting himself in his pants to relieve some of his desperation. you struggle to keep your legs apart when you feel his warm breaths brush against your needy cunt. you swear you're literally throbbing with need for him.

jake's done this before, steven recalls, eating you out from behind. you seemed to really enjoy it despite the intense overstimulation that pushed you to tears and the bruises left on your thighs from his tight hold and nipping mouth.

he can do this.

he leans in and lightly brushes his plump lips against your wet center to test the waters. your muffle a whimper against the pillow you cling onto, but he hears it loud and clear.

you're so soft and wet, already falling apart in front of him. he can't help but poke his tongue out to taste your sweetness. the warm softness of his tongue has you urgently pushing yourself against him and he takes that as his sign to go deeper.

this time he holds you closer, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he dips into the hot opening of your cunt, working his tongue against your tender walls. his mouth waters at the taste of you and he's desperately leaning in for more.

he thrusts his tongue into your cunt, filling the room with slurping noises that nearly make you blush with how lewd they sound. he's pressed so closely behind you that he's practically supporting your weight as your legs grow too weak to hold you up.

"s-ste-- a-aah-- mm..." you fall apart when he starts licking from your entrance to your clit, flicking eagerly as you start to gush against his tongue. he can already feel your legs twitch and tremble as you try to escape his hot mouth.

your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel his soft lips wrap around your aching clit. it's almost too much for you to handle. he suckles on your sensitive bud until you're whining out against your pillow as your body trembles with the crash of your orgasm.

steven ignores your pleas and your attempts to escape his mouth as he continues to work you through your high. he cleans you up with a gentle mouth, making sure not to miss a single drop. drool pools against the pillow as your exhausted body struggles to stay conscious.

“hm, not bad…” jake admires your trembling frame from a reflective surface nearby, hungrily taking in the scene and wishing he were in steven's place instead. "maybe we were wrong about you, stevie."

steven watches you as well, but with a hint of reluctance. he's never seen you like this first hand. usually, you're the one staring down at him with a small smile as he attempts to catch his breath from your teasing antics.

he's not sure if he likes this any more than the usual dynamic the two of you have. of course he loves knowing that he can make you fall apart just as much as marc and jake, but it's not him.

"you're not done with her yet, right?" marc asks, "'cuz if you are, i'd be happy to finish her off."

jake is quick to argue, "actually markie, i'm pretty sure it's my turn to spoil our little princess."

steven finally bites back, "no, tonight she's mine."

he grumbles, making an effort to push his annoyances into silence so he can give all of his attention to you.

steven nudges you to lay on your back so he can see your face, "love, are you alright?" his tone is light, despite the fact he's eager to continue ravaging you -- even if you do end up falling asleep.

"mhm," your eyes flutter open, sparkling with satisfaction as you stare up at him. you're adorable with that post-sex flush on your skin, highlighting the tops of your cheeks. "i just... wasn't expecting this from you."

"did you like it?"

"steven, i can barely feel my legs."

he lets out a nervous chuckle like he's unsure whether that's a good thing or not, but you ease his mind with a soft smile. you reach up and cradle his face, "yes, baby, i loved it." he presses his cheek against your hand, enjoying your embrace, "i always like it when you touch me."

"then can we do more?"

of course, you want to have sex with him, but...that, no matter how mind-blowing it was, wasn't him. steven is the type of guy to hold eye contact with you while eating you out, wanting to catch every expression and moan of praise as he brings you to the edge. he's the type to hold your hand as you cum, squeezing lovingly to encourage you to fully let go because you're safe with him.

all night he's been acting off. he's been distant and in his head -- and you have a faint idea as to why (their names rhyme with "bark and bake") but you want your sweet and gentle steven back.

you take his hand, "w-wait...steven?"

“yes, darling?"

you sit up, "can you, um, kiss me first?" it's a bit embarrassing to ask when he's already been nose deep in your cunt, but you need that sweet embrace that he's always given.

"of course." steven’s eyes soften.

cool relief rushes through his body. maybe he was wrong, maybe you do like his soft touches and sweet kisses. maybe you like him for being himself. it's not like marc and jake are the same anyway. each of them gives you something special.

he leans in closer and presses his lips against yours, his body trapping you against the bed. he immediately feels you relax against him as you start to move your mouth over his. he kisses you gently, taking time to trace over the sensitive edge of your bottom lip before dipping in and laving his tongue against yours. 

when you separate from each other with puffy lips and heated breaths, you can't help but admire the pretty man above you who regards you with pure admiration in his eyes.

"make love to me steven," you whisper, "a-and hold me after, please." his soft brown eyes, full of longing and admiration, meet yours.

"always, love." he pecks you once more on the lips, "i'd do anything for you." you feel his lips move down from your mouth to the edge of your jaw, then your shoulder, and finally the top of your covered chest.

he sits up briefly to pull your shirt off before doing the same with his own clothes. once he's in nothing but his briefs, he's back on top of you.

steven has stars in his eyes as he watches his hand slide over the softness of your curves. he loves how perfectly you fit against him.

you gasp softly as he teasingly brushes his thumb against your nipple. your body is already so sensitive to his touch.

"you're so beautiful..." he whispers.

as he leans in and captures the bud in his mouth, his hand drags down to the spot where you need him the most, sending a wave of sensations through your body and causing you to arch against his mouth.

you're already wet enough for him to slip his fingers inside of you, so he immediately begins thrusting deeply against your spongey walls, letting sloppy sounds of your wetness echo through the bedroom.

you tangle your fingers into his curls and arch your back as he starts to suckle at your nipple. his slick tongue flicks over the hardened bud, sending tingles up your spine. you are already half-delirious from how expertly he's working your body.

everything seems to speed up when you start to squirm under him. he's pushing you harder onto the bed, he's nipping love bites at your tits, his hand is moving faster against you -- from the sounds coming between you, you're sure you've made a mess of his hand.

"s-steven...mm...please!" your thighs squeeze around his wrist as he gets overzealous, hitting your g-spot over and over again without giving you a breather. he groans against your breast when you tug at his hair.

without any warning, he pulls away.

you reluctantly let him get up (though you're definitely too weak at this point to stop him) and you're left to breathlessly watch as he licks his fingers clean and pulls himself out of his briefs.

pleasure continues to buzz against the surface of your skin as you hungrily stare at the way he pumps himself delicately in front of you, his cock is already dripping with desperation. he looks at you with glazed eyes and flushed cheeks while he touches himself.

what a pretty boy...

"need to feel you," steven mumbles, shifting closer to you to press his cock against the seam of your cunt.

"feel me," you beg, canting your hips upwards to meet him.

steven gently moves himself against you, rutting himself against your wet center. he pants when his tip just barely presses into your entrance, proving how ready you are for him.

slowly, he pushes himself in, shuddering at how soft and wet you feel around him.

you whimper softly when he starts fucking you at a slow pace, forcing you to feel how perfectly he stretches you out, over and over again.

your body shudders every time he bottoms out and presses so intensely against that spot inside of you, making you feel like you're about to burst if he doesn't pull out soon.

steven looks down at your face, wanting to see if you're liking this -- but it turned out to be a mistake. he meant to make this sweet, to hold back and make love to you like you asked, but when you look up at him with those shiny eyes and that blissed, fucked-out expression, he can't help the way his hips start to frantically grind against yours.

"i'm sorry, love, i can't -- uhh -- c-can't help it when you look at me like that!" steven pushes your thighs upwards, forcing them closer to the mattress on either side of your head. you cry out as the new angle pushes him deeper within you, hitting every buzzing nerve inside of your sopping cunt.

"mm...steven!" the bed below rocks as his hips violently slap against you in a rhythmic motion.

he groans as he watches his cock thrust inside of you, making a mess of your wet center as you gush around him. you look so small under him, yet you're eagerly taking every inch in that tight cunt.

"i-i want to be inside of you forever..." steven pants out, "and i want you to feel me," he reaches between your bodies to press against your stomach, "here, forever."

"ahh~" you pant heatedly as the added pressure of his hand makes him feel even bigger inside of you. you squirm under him from the intense feeling, but you can barely move out from his hold.

"i love you, darling." he chokes out as he grows closer to the edge, rutting deliciously against the top wall of your pussy. "t-tell-tell me you love me too."

"fuck -- i love you, steven. i'll a-always -- nmph," you flutter around him as the heat of your own climax explodes throughout your body. "love you~" you can barely get the words out as he finishes inside of you.

you don't mind the way he rests on top of you as he attempts to catch his breath. his body is hot and sticky against yours, but it feels comforting nonetheless.

"mm...i missed you and your sweetness." you sigh, enjoying his weight over you, even if it is a tad difficult to breathe.

steven sheepishly mumbles against you, "but that wasn't exactly sweet lovemaking."

"sure, but it was you."

he simply hums happily in response, dotting light kisses against your tacky neck before nuzzling his face against you.

when you both cooled off, you decidedly needed a little space from the man pinning you to the mattress, "ok i need to breathe a little, steven."

"oh, oops, i'll get up." he pushes himself up so he can give you some air. you can't help but shudder as he starts to pull out of you.

"ah~" you can feel the warmth of his cum start to drip from your center, "you came so much, steven. look -- you made a mess." you tease, opening your legs for him.

"m'sorry, love." he sits back on his knees in front of you, staring down at the mess he made (as if he isn't just as messy). "didn't mean to..."

it doesn't sound like he's sorry though -- not by the distracted way he mutters out the apology while scooping up his cum and shoving it back into you.

"steven."

"i'm just trying to minimize the mess!" he defends.

you don't stop him because it feels oddly pleasant to be doted on like this. you'll just have to do a final cleanup later, you decide.

"imagine if i weren't on birth control," you joke, "i'd definitely be pregnant by now."

"..."

"steven are you hard again?!"

At long last. Vindication.

Muse - Painter!Choso x Model!Yuki

Strangers to lovers • Slow burn • Angst • Modern AU

Burned out artist, Choso Kamo, meets Tsukumo Yuki- a cashier at a convivence store that unknowingly inspires him to create. He's on a tight deadline to prepare an exhibit for a famous museum, and he needs all the inspiration he can get. After all, his life depends on it. And Yuki's does too.

Link!!

I know I'm a bit early but this idea was rolling around my head!!

☆*: .｡.Reblog if you enjoy 💗.｡.:*☆

💫

Estamos contra las cuerdas, pero todavía no estamos muertos.

Itziar Ituño as Lisboa in La Casa de Papel Parte 5 Volumen 1

brian may: *complains about making a disco album*

john deacon writing back chat:

New vessel who dis (x)

CLOSER TO [　Ｈｅａｖｅｎ　]

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Kofi