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Life as a member of the one hundred and fourth training squadron was about as miserable as one could imagine. This was especially so when you were among those who weren’t the brilliant, outstanding members of the class. You had your talents--you were a sharp shooter if there ever was one--but right now, while the squad was practicing three dimensional maneuver gear usage, you glowed dimmer than a dying ember.

“Augh!” you yelped as Thomas flew by, clipping your shoulder with his shin.

You spiraled, weight taken off balance. Your eyes widened in horror as you saw Mina’s wire shoot inches from your face. You could have been run through! However, you merely got your stomach clotheslined on her wire, sending shockwaves through it and unbalancing Mina. She screeched in panicked horror, shooting her other wire to try and get up. This didn’t end well for you, as your own wires were trying to retract. They caught on Mina’s upper wire, sending her back down.

Suspended by only one of Mina’s wires, the two of you slammed into a tree trunk.

Mina began crying as she dangled upside down.

You had it worse, though. You were bound up in all four wires, arms pinned to your sides by your own wires and held in place by the first of Mina’s. The other was precariously hooked around your boots, grappling hook-tip threatening to tear through your boots if you moved wrong.

“Aw, shit, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

You and Mina both looked up. Jean Kirstein, self proclaimed honest man and one of the occasional butt monkeys of the class, stood over the two of you, hands on his hips. At age fifteen, he had long ago given up on trying to play nice. He frowned.

Mina frowned up, squinting her eyes.

Jean grinned down at her. “I told you so.”

“Told her so what?” You asked, looking between Jean and Mina before wincing slightly as the movement caused the wires, which supported Mina as well, to tighten around your ribs and arms.

“That she and Thomas should start watching out better for where they’re going,” he haughtily answered. He looked over his shoulder. “Oh, there you are. Marco, wanna help me free poor [NAME]?” He snickered as he looked back toward Mina, who blushed furiously in embarrassment. “Mina did a number on them.”

Marco smiled, obviously happy to help. “Of course, Jean.” With that, the two descended.

You looked on in awe. So, this was the prowess of the top of the class? Marco landed by you, standing against the tree in a rappelling position. Below, Jean did the same, though his arm was under Mina’s waist. He hacked at the wires and soon the majority of the weight as gone.

“Good job!” Marco called.

A dopey smile crossed your face. These two were amazing! You were brought back into reality by Marco’s touch. You froze up, face flushing.

Marco drew his hand back from your side, realizing that this was a bit awkward. “Sorry… but I’m going to have to hold you if you don’t wanna fall to your death.” He grinned sheepishly before going back to the task at hand. With one brawny arm, he supported your torso. His forearm rested between your breasts and his palm held your stomach up. You wanted nothing more than to rest your forehead against his bicep, relish the feeling of his hands working over your sides.

“Almost there,” he alerted you. He adjusted his position to where you were supported on his knees and he removed the hook which threatened your ankle.

Once free, you scrambled to adjust yourself, clinging to Marco’s neck. “S-Sorry,” you apologized. “I’m just not keen on falling!”

He laughed. Did he drink a lot of cream or something? Who knew. His breath smelled like a young animal’s, clean but natural. “I don’t blame you. … and, I don’t mind,” he assured. He brought one arm around your waist to make sure you wouldn’t slip off before descending to the forest floor, where the instructor approached on horseback.

“Mina Carolina! [FULL NAME]! What the fuck was that?!” he barked. Keith Shadis then looked to Jean, who was resting happily on his laurels. “Go get Thomas Wagner, Kirstein!”

Jean almost wanted to ask why him, but knew better by now than to ask Keith Shadis anything. He grunted before flying off to catch Thomas.

“Dismissed, Bodt!”

You watched as Marco went, heart fluttering a bit. You didn’t know if it was the adrenaline rush or the pain from the wires messing with your head, but you swore you felt a little dizzy from the experience. You trotted after Shadis and Mina to receive your third of the punishment that was to be doled out.

“[NAME]!”

You looked up from where you served today’s dinner. You had to cook it entirely by yourself, a relatively light punishment considering the fact that your mother was a chef and your father was a butcher. You were practically crying in joy, especially when you didn’t have to participate in the oil maintenance for the various machines around the training grounds that Mina and Thomas had been assigned.

Marco stood before you, waiting patiently on the other side of the island that the plates and chow rested on. “You’re okay then, I take it?”

You smiled and nodded. “I never did properly thank you,” you noted. You picked up a plate. While you prided yourself on cooking well, there was only so much skill you could put into food for a hundred people. Deciding to show your appreciation for living (and perhaps butter up the guy who had sent you into mild shock with his presence), you took a quick look around. Good. The trainees that weren’t stuffing their faces were busy talking, and the instructor was no where in site. You winked at Marco before fixing a plate and turning quickly to add butter and salt, plus a few other spices. You quickly passed it to him.

A look of confusion washed over his freckled face. The brunette protested. “H-Hey, is it really okay to do that, [NAME]?”

You tilted your head. “Mm, no,” you admitted. “But, if you eat it all like a good boy, no one’ll know.” You put your hands behind your back, looking up at your personal hero. “You don’t want us to get in trouble, right?”

Marco shook his head, a soft smile gracing his lips. “No, I guess not.” He adjusted his weight, ready to go off with his friends. “Don’t take so many risks, okay, [NAME]? You’ll worry me.”

You grinned as he walked off. “I’ll try not to, Marco.”

While most of the squad had gone to the communal bath house before dinner--explaining why so many straggled in and why you couldn’t give Sasha seconds despite her seeing more portions waiting--you had been too busy fixing everyone’s dinner to indulge yourself.

As you were on your own time now, you could finally take a nice shower. Under one arm you held a towel, underwear, nightgown and a pair of old work boots entirely too large for you but very comfortable to goof around in. The burdened arm’s hand held your soap. Your hair wasn’t as pretty as it could be because you’d run out of two-in-one shampoo and condition the other day and you weren’t permitted to go into town except on the weekends.

You sighed as you walked in, still wearing your basic uniform. You dropped your things on a bench. While boys and girls had assigned times to enter in, no one really went in the bath house at this time of night. As such, you didn’t worry about walking in on anyone. You checked to make sure no one was there and, after making sure whoever owned the necklace which had been left behind wasn’t still around, you hoped in the shower.

Rubbing your hair dry and relishing the feel of clean pajamas, you stood in the changing room for a moment more. If only you hadn’t signed up to be a soldier. Then you could do this all the time. However, you recalled the fear instilled on you when Wall Maria fell. For weeks, you had nightmares that Wall Rose, which your family lived in, would be overtaken. You never wanted to feel so weak and helpless again.

Lost in thought, you yelped and jumped when the door banged open. Marco stood in his pajama bottoms and a ragged t-shirt, panting in the doorway. He looked up and then looked away once he saw you. “S-Sorry!”

You tilted your head, confused as to why he reacted like he did, until you remembered that you hadn’t at all brought a bra to wear under your nightgown. You draped your town around your shoulders so that it covered your breats. “Um, it’s okay. They’re covered.” You blinked. “What’re you all out of breath for?”

He straightened and walked in, still looking around. He was barefooted, showing how urged his quest was that he would forsake the time it took to put on proper footwear. “I lost my necklace,” he supplied.

“...! Around the corner, hanging on the shower head of the first stall,” you blurted.

Marco’s face lit up. He ran to fetch his treasure. You put on your shoes, pausing when you heard a sound that was suspiciously similar to a body smacking against wet floor, and gathered up your dirty clothes and bath supplies. Marco entered the room, grinning victoriously though one side of him was oddly sopping wet.

He chuckled, putting on the necklace. “Thanks, [NAME]! You don’t understand how important this necklace is to me.”

You shook your head. “No problem.” You got a better look at the beaded rope. It looked old. “... is it a heirloom or something?”

Marco nodded. “It’s supposedly belonged to an ancient warrior from before the titans roamed around. He was fleet in battle and scouted for his country, never caught.” The freckled haired man rubbed his neck with his broad palm, slightly uncomfortable but happy. “It’s supposed to be good luck, and it’s been passed down in my family for generations… but it’s too much of a uniform violation to wear. I’m not Mikasa, so I don’t have enough force to back up my fashion tastes.” He gained a softer look. “Plus, I’m scared I’d break it.”

You looked on in awe. “Wow,” you cooed. “Well, you know, Mikasa only wears her scarf when the instructor isn’t around. You can totally wear your necklace once you join the Military Police!”

“You heard about that?” he pressed, a little pleased you remembered something about him.

“Yup!” you cheered. “I remember, because you seemed like a fairy tale knight when you spoke!”

Marco crossed his arms. “... well, I’ll certainly try and live up to the knight in shining armor image if you’re ever in trouble again,” he teased.

You flushed, but couldn’t help but smile. “I… I’ll have to give you a favor, next time.”

The brunette laughed heartily, form with a perfect distribution of fat-and-muscle heaving as he lifted his chin a bit. “Well, goodnight,” he said, tilting his head.

You headed to the door before him, all the while trying to maintain eye contact for as long as possible. “Goodnight.”

You met him again when you were putting on your harness. Of course, the harnesses had been oiled with leather oil as a part of Mina and Thomas’s punishment. Perhaps jealous, one of them--you theorized--must have adjusted the buckles of your harnesses, making it difficult for you to discern how it was to be worn and frustrating you when you attempted to put it on.

“[NAME]?” He called, stepping into the suiting hall. He frowned. Instructor Shadis sent him in to grab another buckle for Jean--whose gear was mysteriously damaged as well. He just so happened to be able to come to your rescue.

You stood, thighs bound together and one arm in an awkward position as you tried vainly to pull a section of leather straps back of your head. You whimpered as Marco drew closer. “Ugh… is it too soon to cash in on a rescue again?”

He grinned. “Not at all.” His grin turned a little lewd as he ran his hands over your hips, tugging at a strap to give your arm a bit of relief. “If it’s just untying you, then I can’t complain.”

You chuckled. “Like seeing me tied up?”

Marco stopped in his movements, turning dark eyes to your own. He studied your face and noticed the blush, the way you fought a smile. He stood chest to chest with you. “I might.”

It’s always the nice ones, you thought. “... help me out now, and I think I know a way I can repay you later.” You tilted your head away from him, trying your best to act coy despite the way your body was restricted. “A favor, certainly.”

Boys were boys, and Marco was no exception. He smiled like a madman, teeth almost predatory as he quickly helped out out of your harness and adjust it. The two of you dashed out, Marco holding the buckle for Jean.

During dinner, you continuously caught Marco’s eye. Like you, he was looking for a chance to leave early but not garner unnecessary attention. You made idle conversation with Christa and Sasha, laughing at funny things Connie said. Eventually, an argument sprung up between Reiner and Ymir.

Marco stood, movement catching your attention. He nodded and left out one door.

You waited a moment before going out the opposite side.

You walked around the mess hall, looking for your knight in shining armor.

“There you are,” he whispered into your ear, hugging you from behind. You melted into his warmth, relishing the bulge of his muscles and the softness of his fat. Yes… Marco certainly had a way of finding the perfect balance of everything.

You looked down as something brushed your hip. It was a coil of rope. You grew a bit too excited, almost knocking your head against his chin as you whirled around to face him. You grabbed his forearms, looking over his face for signs that he wanted to do this as much as you did. “Ready?”

He nodded, taking your hand. “I found a spot,” he explained. You walked through the training grounds, soon coming to the weight room. In the back corner of the workout building, there was a large storage room for the safety mats. The dust layering them showed exactly how often you guys used them.

“Just some restraining and then we’ll go at it, okay?” you told Marco.

He nodded, then took the rope. He carefully tied it so that it wasn’t actually tight, but it would keep you from moving. Your hands were held together before you and, using his pocket knife to cut the rope, your ankles were bound together as well.

“I’ve got you to myself,” he muttered in a voice that was a far cry from his usual. He lowered you to the ground by your hands, facing up toward him from where he stood. “Weak and powerless, tied up.”

Trusting that this was a part of the foreplay, you rolled on to your side to shyly look up to Marco. The flush coating his neck showed that this was working well enough. “P-Please…”

“You’ll have to beg,” he answered, crossing his arms. His bicep twitched as he restrained himself.

You looked up toward him, face faking an expression of hesitant fear. “What do I have to do to make you free me?”

At this point, Marco dropped to his knees, legs on either side of your thighs. He began to unbuckle his pants, dark hair blending into the poorly lit room. He didn’t drop them, merely kept them loosely around his waist. He pressed his chest into your exposed bicep, lips inches from your cheek. “Fuck me.”

Still in your role, you nodded, closing your eyes in submission.

Mark took that as the time to slip a hand under your shirt, exploring the soft flesh of your stomach, pressing it down to reveal the abs under the thin layer of fat. He nuzzled your neck, sniffing at your scent. One hand trailed higher while the other caressed your butt, fingers running along the place where your thighs met. You sucked in a breath. He took that moment to grope your breast to the threshold of hurting. He clamped his mouth over the crook of your neck, turning you onto your chest.

“Say my name,” he ordered.

You poked your butt into the air as he, still clothed, rolled your shirt up and unhooked your bra so that he could work more easily. “Marco,” you whispered, knowing it was more fun to force him to make you speak louder.

Marco hiked up your skirt. He ran a pair of fingers along your panties, a rumbling sigh of pleasure escaping his throat at how wet you already were. “Louder.”

“Marco.”

He dropped his pants and underwear, taking his own dick in hand as he pulled down your panties. With the way your legs were positioned, he would have a more difficult time getting in if you were on your knees. He pressed down, gently at first so you knew what he was trying to do, then roughly to continue the charade. He rubbed a moment, going from erect to truly hardened. “Yell.”

You knew it was a warning as much as an order, so you braced for his entrance. He rammed you into the mat, pleasure washing madly over you. You breathed deeply as you lied on the ground, him over you with his delightfully oppressive weight. “Marco!”

That was all the encouragement he needed to start thrusting. He went slowly out, beating a steady pace. As slowly as he went, he made each quick thrust in deep. However, he began to pick up pace. Rather than coming almost all the way out to thrust, he began rocking his hips, sending vibrations of kinetic movement between the two of you.

With your arms before you, you couldn’t do much of anything about the situation. In a way, it excited you. Marco was completely in control, but he was doing it all for your pleasure. The idea that, even when he could do otherwise, Marco was entirely focused on pleasing you and not hurting you turned you on massively. “A-Ah,” you stuttered. “Marco!”

He grinded into you harder, each thrust a seeming effort to slam your flesh into one, like clay in a potter’s hands. “[NAME],” he grunted. He suddenly seized up, grunting as his pelvis jerked a final time. He crawled off you, obviously tired. He untied your wrists and ankles.

The two of you redressed, cleaning up as best as you could.

“Jean’s gonna come get us when we’ve got ten minutes ‘til inspection,” Marco explained as he reclined, ready to take a nap from his exertion. He patted the area of the mat next to him.

Pleased to see that he wanted to cuddle with you rather than pull a quick screw-and-through, you rested your head on Marco’s chest while one arm supported his head and the other curled around you.

“Hey, Marco?” you squeaked, careful not to wake him if he was already asleep. He hummed. “Thanks.”

He squeezed you tighter to let you know he heard. After a moment, his steady breathing alerted you to the fact that he was now asleep. You settled down as well. It wouldn’t do to go back to the room too tired out, would it?