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tettatonin · 3 years

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EYES LOCKED, HANDS LOCKED ︰ sanzu , nahoya , ran

⠀⠀⠀⠀— soft & romantic w/ the meanies ♡

cws: 18+ NSFW MDNI. fem!reader. SANZU: nothing surprisingly. NAHOYA: i mean he... he tried his best. RAN: oral (f receiving). breeding.

notes: i felt like fuckin william shakespeare writing ran's bit idc. special thanks to @lila-skies for helping me w nahoya's part it was one of the most difficult things i've ever done 😭😭 and ty @takeomis for beta reading <3

— HARUCHIYO SANZU

It was one of the rare times he chose to put off work, relief washing over you when you turned over and saw his long pink hair sprawled out on the pillow next to you. You moved closer to him, his body was turned away from you as he laid on his side, the blanket halfway down his bare back that was littered in healed over scars.

"Haru," You say softly, propping yourself up on one arm.

He groaned, face scrunching up as he took a deep breath. "What time's it?" He says, voice hoarse as his lashes flutter.

You scoff, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Does it matter? I've got you all to myself today."

Haru could hear the quiet excitement in your voice, your lips trailing kisses on his shoulder as your hand feels up his stomach, the tip of your finger tracing the lines of his abs. You expected to feel a garter of fabric on his hips, a smirk creeps up on you when the feeling of skin doesn't stop but a sudden grip on your wrist surprises you.

He tuts, turning over only to trap you under him. The blanket falling off his backside and his hand holding your wrist above your head. "All to yourself, huh?"

You roll your eyes, biting your cheek so the smile that tugs at your lips doesn't show. "I'm just happy you're here when I wake up for once." You tuck a bit of hair behind his ear, your thumb caressing his cheek right after.

As your palm rests against his cheek, he leans into your touch. He'd be lying to himself if he said wasn't happy that he was off work too, allowing him to stay without having to reluctantly tear away and get ready to risk his life once he walked out the door.

"I don't mind that then." He says, your foreheads touching and his lips brushing over yours before they collide.

Haru would never tell you, but he wanted nothing more than to be next to you every waking moment. He wanted to sit in the safe space of your arms after escaping death for the nth time this week, he needed a reminder that he was alive and home. He's never loved someone this much, and he's not sure if he's stable enough to do it again with anyone else.

The hand holding your wrist lowers as he uses both to lift up your shirt, breaking the kiss momentarily to get it over your head. His free hand dips in between your legs and rubs over your clothed slit, eliciting a moan from you, his morning wood twitching at the sound. He moves to kiss down your chest, two fingers pulling the fabric of your panties aside before one prods at your drooling hole.

"Ain't it a lil' too early for this, angel?" He jokes, sliding his finger into you and taking one of your breasts into his mouth.

"Like it's stopped you before." You retort. You were prepared to say something else but the stroke of his finger in and out of you has you tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. Haru added another after popping the first one into his mouth for a taste. "Fuck, not too hard." You add.

"Mm, yeah, I know, I know." He curls his fingers when he finds the spongy spot that makes you moan. "Jus' need you a little wet for me, 'kay? You'll be a good girl for me, right?"

He keeps a steady pace, careful not to make you finish just yet as he sucks a new hickey onto your chest, your little whimpers like music to his ears as he swirls his tongue around your nipple.

You call out to him but it falls deaf to his ears. The way your walls hug his fingers has him thinking how tight you'll be after going so long without him inside you. He could feel your essence drip onto his palm as he pulls his fingers out of you for a moment. The idea of making you cum on his fingers before he'll make you do it again on his dick was about to take over but your hand makes its way to his hair, gripping it gently to make him face you.

A low groan pools at the back of his throat from the interruption of his thoughts but you kiss gently at the corners of his mouth before he could say anything. One sweet kiss on the left scar then another on the right, a gesture that always had his chest swelling with a feeling he couldn't explain.

"I need you, Haru." You mutter against him as you slowly take off your panties with one hand, your lover finishing the job for you before he's kissing you back with need.

He felt like he was going to burst with the way you so sweetly say his name, cock throbbing in his hand as he gave it a couple strokes with the one covered in your slick before lining it up with your entrance.

He pushes some hair out of your face, letting you relax and lay your head back into the pillow. "You've got me all to yourself today, don't you, angel?"

A breathless moan leaves your lips when the tip finally pushes into you, the rest of his length following suit until he bottoms out completely.

"So I'm gonna take my time with you." He says lowly as he lets you adjust, hips moving back and nearly pulling out only to push himself back in at the same pace, groaning and savoring the hug of your walls around his length before you loosened up. "Fuck, I'll make you miss me all over again."

Haru pounds into you with need, trapping you in a sloppy kiss as he does. As much as he liked it hard, you look so much prettier this way. Your face close enough for him to kiss, your cheeks flushed red, your mouth slightly open and emitting the softest and cutest moans; sounds that went straight to his cock while your eyes were half lidded and your brows furrowed in pleasure.

"You're so pretty." He thought out loud. "So good for me."

You blush a deeper shade of red at the compliment, your hands instinctively moving up to your face to cover it but he pries them away, holding them above your head with both wrists in one hand like he did before.

"No, no, baby. I wanna see you, wanna see you when you cum like this."

He's so used to your face being wet, all covered in tears from overstimulation, from the hard and needy fucks he'd ask for when he needed to blow off steam. He really wanted to see. He wanted to see how pretty you'd look cumming around his cock without anything holding you back.

"Haru," you moan as your climax draws near. "'m close."

Your thighs press against his sides, nails digging crescents into your palms while you try your best not to turn away from him while his thrusts grow shallow, the head of his cock bullying your sweet spot as needy chants of his name fall from your lips.

"H-hah, cumming— H-Haru, cumming!" You whine as both your orgasms rip through you.

"F-Fuck," he groans as your walls flutter around him, spurt after spurt of hot cum painting your insides white just before his hips still and lips crash onto yours in another sloppy kiss as he helps you ride out your high.

He sighs once he's spent, pulling out and collapsing next to you, an arm over his eyes.

The grip he had on your wrists had left a red mark, a tinge of guilt sinking in when you rub your wrists but it disappears when he feels your nuzzle your face into his chest. A smile creeps up on him as he rests his chin on top of your head, his fingers twirling a few strands of hair that had sprawled out onto the pillow as you both bask in the afterglow.

— NAHOYA KAWATA

Anything you want, he said. I'll do anything you want for your birthday tonight.

Nahoya wasn't one for grand presents other than closing up the shop to spend time with you but it was the least he could do, so you gave him a couple rules: no hands and no moving, only wanting him to lie still while you ride him at a painfully slow pace. Though slow and steady wasn't really his cup of tea, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it. Sensitivity at its peak when you raise your hips, the tip snug at your entrance just before you lower, taking him all the way to the hilt.

"Mm, shit," Nahoya groans, his mouth hanging open as he savors the hug of your velvety walls around his thick cock. "Fuck, that's good.. that's really good, baby."

You smirk at his words, trying to keep the same cocky façade he had like his moans and groans weren't causing your movement to grow sloppy. He places his hands back on your hips despite your earlier warnings, guiding you gently when you stray from your earlier rhythm.

"Ah, ah, careful." He tuts. "Gonna lose yourself, sweetheart."

"'Hoya,"

"Hm?" He kisses your neck, nibbling gently at the skin.

"No hands." You take one of your hands off the headboard, a fatal attempt at taking his hands off when you feel him suddenly thrust up into you.

He chuckles, "I don't see you tryin' hard to pull 'em off." His hands only lower to grope the fat of your ass. His hot breath fans your lips before going in to kiss you, tongue pushing against yours violently while he guides you in a steady rhythm. "You can't do it all by yourself, can you, princess? You act so bitchy when I wreck your pussy but you're just a—"

"Nahoya," you say sternly, your movement stopping as his smile drops a bit from the sound of his whole name with your tone.

"Alright, alright." He says, raising his hands in defeat. "'m sorry, 'kay? Don't be mad at me on your birthday now, baby, I'll behave." He wraps his arms around your waist, subtly bucking up into you as he peppers apologetic kisses from your neck to your cheek. "You're just so cute tryna ride me all on your own."

He presses his lips onto yours, bringing you down with him as he lays back in the pillows, your chest flush against his and his cock still throbbing inside you.

"I got somethin' for you," he says, honey in his words to entice you as an arm reaches over to pull at the drawer on your bedside table. "I was gonna save it 'til after but,"

You prop yourself up, watching him pop the box open. Nahoya carefully pulls the gold chain out by the centerpiece, his name carved in gold. "I think you'd look pretty with this swingin' in my face, yeah?" He smirks, undoing the clasp to hook it around your neck.

He gives an experimental thrust up into you, cockhead luckily hitting your sweet spot and pulling a moan out of you. His grin grows wider when the chain swings with the jerk of your body. "Don't think I don't got one too." He reaches into the drawer again, pulling out a matching chain, this time with your name on it, and biting down on the pendant between his grinning teeth. "Hm, so whaddya say? Gonna keep goin', pretty?"

"'Hoya..." You whine out of the silence when he hits your sweet spot again. "Please."

He smirks, giving you one last kiss—and you swore you heard a little 'hehe' before it—but the way he smiles into it distracts you as his hold on your waist loosens. He looks past your figure, hands grasping your hips to lift them as his heels dig into the sheets before he's bucking up into you at a bruising pace with no warning.

"Wait, fuck! 'Hoya!" You whine, the head of his cock abusing your sweet spot.

He let out a satisfied groan, the slap of his skin on yours echoing throughout the room just the way he liked it, that familiar state of euphoria pulling the band in his stomach close to snapping. Nahoya hated to announce it so soon but he was so lost in you; your scent, your sounds, and fuck, the way you keep clenching around him only tells him you're gonna cream around him soon.

"This your cock, baby? This just for you on your birthday?" He says through grit teeth, biting down on the gold plate harder as his climax approaches.

"A-ah, y-yes, yes! Nahoya—"

God, you're so fucking hot, he thinks, cock throbbing at your claims and the desperate cry of his name. "Cum for me, cream nice and wet on me, baby. Oh, I want it so bad."

A couple of hard thrusts later, you're close to screaming his name. The word's about to jump out of your throat but his hand runs through your hair, pushing your head so your lips meet his in a heated kiss that muffles both your moans. You can feel Nahoya empty himself into you, his cum hot and thick and probably spilling out the edges as he rides out his high.

"That's my girl." He mutters, placing his necklace on the bedside table. "Happy birthday, sweetheart."

He kisses the top of your head before you pull away, laying down next to him with your cheek resting on his shoulder.

"Mm, thank you." You yawn, energy spent and ready to sleep as Nahoya toys with the back of your chain.

— RAN HAITANI

Your husband was often out late, be it work related or not, he'd never tell you. The pit in your stomach grows the more you think about it, how he probably used his job and dangerous endeavors as an excuse to do whatever he pleased but you shake your head of those thoughts, covering yourself more with your robe when a cold breeze hits.

Don't be stupid he loves you, you think. And you should know because he's told you, time after time and every single time there was a bloom in your chest that only pulled you closer to him, close enough for that ring on your finger to tie you both 'til death.

You walk back into the dimly lit living room from the balcony and set your glass of wine down on the coffee table, a matching glass parallel to it yet to be filled.

It was nearly 11 according to your phone and Ran still wasn't home like he promised. You don't bother calling him to nag anymore as you check your phone for at least a half-assed message. The picture of you both on your wedding day flashing across the screen just makes you roll your eyes as you turn it off and toss it onto the couch before you situate yourself onto it, refusing to let yourself sleep in an empty bed for another night.

Ran held his jacket in one arm, tiredly dragging himself through the halls of the condominium until he stepped into the elevator, leaning back onto the wall across the door as the chamber lifted upward. He sighed, running a hand through his hair to push back the strands that stuck to his forehead but his pomade had already faded from the perspiration.

When the elevator stopped at your floor, he fumbled for his keys and stepped into your home. The space felt empty despite him knowing you were home, tall windows for walls making it seem much larger than it really was. He spots your sleeping figure on the couch and the two wine glasses on the coffee table, one with a bit of burgundy liquid pooled at the bottom while the other was still clean. The bottle, as he picked it up, was half-empty. More guilt setting into the pit of your husband's stomach when he remembers its never been opened before as well.

Ran throws his jacket over the back of the couch before rolling up his sleeves and scooping you up into his arms, taking some hair out of your face as he makes his way up the spiral staircase and into your bedroom. He lays you down gently, your body waking up as you sink into the mattress.

He gives you a loving kiss on the cheek. "I'm home." He sang lowly, droopy eyes watching your sleeping figure.

You let out a groan as you feel Ran trail kisses from your cheek to your lips. You slur on your words, telling him something between 'go take a shower' and 'fuck you'.

"Honey," he continued, slender fingers tugging at the string on your robe with the intent of dressing you down for a more comfortable sleep. "At least take off your robe, I understand if you're upset but it'll be much more—"

When he pulls away from your lips and parts the middle, his eyes widen at what you've worn underneath. And if his memory served him well, a dark purple babydoll wasn't your usual sleepwear.

"...comfortable." He finishes.

Ran could feel the heat course through his body as he crawls on top of you. He needed to make it up to you somehow after all. Particularly, in one of the only ways he knew how while tending to the temptation inside him at the same time.

"Sweetheart," he says, his energy suddenly spiking as he pulls the fabric down your shoulders, kissing along the edge and along your clavicle. "I know you're awake."

"Mm," you grumble, trying your best to open your eyes. "You smell like crime, Ran."

Ran just chuckles, kissing your cheek. "And you smell like chardonnay, my love."

You blink a few times, if you were fully awake you'd be rolling your eyes as his hand runs down from your waist to the underside of your thigh, his touch warm against your skin.

"I know I've been absent," his lips brush over yours as he speaks in a low whisper. "And I'd like to— no," he scoffs. "I'd love to make it up to you tonight." The pads of his fingers draw circles on your inner thigh, moving closer and closer to your core.

Maybe it was the wine in your system, the drunken need to give into whatever Ran's gentle touch was inviting you to, or maybe a blockage that stopped your logical thoughts from interfering with the needy movement of your body, the desire directing your body to what it needed most.

Ran's fingers finally reach your clothed cunt, the friction of the fabric over your clit makes your body burn, the pad of his finger sliding up and down on the hardened bundle of nerves. You let out a breathless moan, hot breath fanning over his ear as he sucks a hickey into the sweet spot on your neck.

"More..." you mumble.

"Hm? What's that, love?" He teases, lifting his face out of your neck.

His eyes relax at the sight of you, a drunken blush spread across your cheeks and nose with your eyelids low and mouth slightly agape. Ran always thought you were beautiful in everything you did, but nothing compares to when you're slowly succumbing to his touch.

"More, Ran." You say clearly, a hand cupping his cheek to bring him in for a kiss. "Give me more."

He stills just before your lips touch, a smile tugging at his lips as his free hand holds the one on his cheek. "I'll give you all I have."

He kisses you and he kisses you hard, pouring all his longing and love into it as he moves his hand past the waistband. His fingers circle around your entrance before he pushes into it, your walls sucking him in tightly as he pushes in and out, trying to find the sweet spot he loves to abuse. When he grazes over the spongy spot he breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connecting his bottom lip to yours as the thrust of his fingers prompt you to moan.

The squelch of your pussy was so satisfying to him. Because to him, it was the sound of all that pent up sexual frustration he knew you held in you, and he wanted to pull it out from right in between your legs.

"Ah, hah," you pant, your hands grabbing at the fabric of his shirt as you squirm under him.

"Easy, sweetheart." He purrs, his pace slowing down when your legs clasp around his arm. "Does it feel good?"

You nod vigorously.

"More?"

You nod again.

Ran gives you a chaste kiss on the lips before he lowers himself, kissing down from your torso to your inner thighs, sighing in delight at the smoothness of your skin just before he pulls your panties past your ankles. He settles himself between your legs, hooking his arms around your thighs to keep you in place as he begins to lap and suck at your clit, groaning at the taste of you.

You try and roll your hips to grind his tongue, needy to get to your peak but his hold on you just tightens as his tongue alternated between dipping into you and flicking your clit. You can feel him moan into you, his hips rutting into the sheets with the same need and want you had to the sound of your cries.

He pulls away from you, sitting back on his heels as he undoes the buckle of his belt, tucking the waistband of his briefs under his balls before he's climbing on top of you again, stroking his hard and throbbing cock before lining it up with your entrance and sliding it with no warning.

You let out almost a scream at the stretch, it'd been a while since you'd taken him and he knew that from the hug of your walls around him.

"Relax, relax." He mutters, peppering kisses along your cheek as he moves slowly.

"F-Fuck, Ran, ah—" You moan.

"Hah, I almost forgot how good you feel around me," He pants. "Fuck, I'm never leaving again if you're holding me this tight." He jokes.

When you loosen up he picks up the pace, pounding into your sweet spot harder and faster as you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

Ran could feel himself reaching his climax, already peeling himself away from your body to pull out but you just pull him closer.

"Don't. Inside, Ran.. please." you plead. "You said.. you'd give me everything."

Oh he knows, he just didn't think you'd want it so soon but who was he to complain, you'd look so pretty with your cunt stuffed with cum and your stomach swollen with his child.

A grin spreads across his face as he brings a hand down to rub harsh circles on your clit to catch you up to him. "Cum with me," he commands. "Cum around my cock, sweetheart, you know how much I missed it."

With a cry of his name, your walls flutter around him as your back arches. Ran slams into you hard for the last time, stilling the stutter of his hips as he cums hot and hard in you. He sits back on his heels, both your chests heaving as he places his hands under your bum to raise your hips, allowing him to push himself and his cum all the way into you. He picks your panties off the floor and puts them back on you when he finally pulls out.

He places a kiss on your temple. "Get some sleep. You did so well for me." Ran pulls the covers over you, turning on the bathroom lights before sitting at the edge of the bed to undo the buttons of his shirt.

A moment of silence passes before you ask the dreaded question. "What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Don't be ridiculous." He chuckles, looking back at you with a lazy smile. "Who's going to take care of you and your hangover if I'm gone all day?"

TAGLIST: @41mee @mqtsuno @harusick @zvies @mrskisaki @ruemensukuna @haruchyio @nahoyaa @roppongiperfume @erishaitto @drakens-pet @amaejiki

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aiz-tea · 2 years

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How do i make lullaby method work overnight? I wanna get into the void but i always seem to wake up without getting in. Do i have to affirm for a long time before bed?

Although I’m pretty sure you’ve heard this before, it’s about believing/changing your major thoughts about lullaby and void methods.

Method 1: self concept and law of assumption

You can take a break, affirm around the day and revise your thoughts on them and say you get instant results and then get into it. Or look at a mirror and talk about how easily you get in the void, how it takes a maximum of 5 minutes and that it’s so freaking easy or that lullaby method gives you results overnight, that you’re a walking void, a walking god and you get whatever you affirm/ wish for instantly. Any method which helps change your thoughts around it is fine. You can also just say I by default wake up in the void every morning and it will come true.

Whatever you assume and persist in will come true.

It’s not ‘it might’ or ‘it can’, it most definitely will. It’s a fact, it’s the law.

Method 2: brute force

And for getting to the void, sometimes if your believes around it are a bit weak, doing extra work helps. Like making a routine, it’s a round about way but we’ve been conditioned to believe we need to do ‘this and that’ to get something. So you can make a routine that helps with that. The routine can combine some theoretical things and be done like this one for example:

1. Go to sleep a bit early around like 8 hours before you have to actually wake up?

2. Keep an alarm for around 3:30 to 4 hours after

3. When you wake up, use musi or something and keep either a void meditation, sleep paralysis meditation, or just relax your body by simply counting to 100. Go back to sleep in starfish position as it helps most people relax the best.

4. When you’re in starfish, don’t move. It doesn’t matter if you breathe or gulp or whatever. Just if somethings itching, ignore it. Idc if the world is falling apart, don’t move. Affirm whatever you want in your head, you can even just think ‘I am’ repeatedly. This can take 3 minutes or 3 hours depending on your assumption of how long this will take.

5. At one point you will no longer feel your body, and then you’ll go floATTT down FLOAT down and stuff. It’s a fun thing not a scary thing don’t worry. It’ll be pitch black, then everything will calm down. Wait until this point and you’ll realise you’re basically nothing in nothing that is in a void. That’s it. Affirm and claim whatever you want or just sit and enjoy the calm. Note that your mind will be crystal clear and zero percent drowsy after reaching even thought midway you’ll forget affirmations and stuff.

Note: The basic principal behind this is just lie down (if you’re feeling drowsy that’s a plus), relax until your body thinks you’re asleep, affirm and right before nearing sleep paralysis, you’ll reach the void. Also make sure you’ve finished all your work since you don’t want to be thinking about them.

I don’t recommend the latter since it’s a pain in the ass. You can literally get into the void while walking or commuting or in the middle of class or anything as long as you believe you can. You are the void, you are god so whatever you want, it can manifest instantly in real life without being in the void.

Also void is just a method, don’t put it on a pedestal. If you’re obsessed with it, I would recommend taking a break and trying normal affirmations and you’ll be surprised how quick law of assumption works in general.

#law of assumption #neville goddard #manifesting #manifestation #loa #self concept #loassumption #affirmations #manifestations #void state #god state

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the-emptied-brain-contents · 3 years

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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐬𝐦𝐩 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

A/N: This has been in the drafts for so long, finally got the motivation to finish it peepoHappy

«────── « ⋅𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐥⋅ » ──────»

Okay so this man is touchy

Maybe you meet up at an airport and your legs are shaking, partly cause you were sitting for a few hours, and partly cause you're just so nervous.

Yeah you've had your face cam on a time or two when you're in a discord call, but irl meetups are a little different.

You've been texting each other since you landed, and have been trying to find a spot to meet

And he's standing there, maybe with his brother or Chandler, and you stop and steel yourself before working up the courage to walk over

You come over to his side, and it takes him a second to notice you

But when he does,, oh my god

The gasp that comes from this boy

He would do that thing where you hug and pick the person up a little (you know the thing)

I can imagine him giggling and smiling so hard as your nervousness melts away

I feel like he would be one of those people who instantly put you at ease. I don't know exactly what it is, but some people have the ability to make you feel comfortable, Karl's definitely one of them.

«────── « ⋅𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲⋅ » ──────»

He would probably be vlogging

Maybe with Niki, Tubbo, Jack and George

He would be acting all tough and "grrr im so manly, women love me" (you know, normal child gremlin stuff)

But when he sees you, geez, the way his face lights up

"IS THAT Y/N I SEE??

"THAT IS Y/N"

"OH MY GAHD"

You know how he ran up to George when he first saw him? It would be one of those

He would 100% act like you were annoying him by your presence but he would really enjoy being able to see you in person.

I will protect this child with my life idc

«────── « ⋅𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐮𝐫⋅ » ──────»

tall

idk how tall you are but even if you're a Goliath he is gonna loom over you

"Yooooooo y/n"

Does the tall man lean when talking to you

man becomes the tower of Pisa in every picture istg

Does the shit thing tall people do and uses your head as an arm rest

Okay but seriously? He would be so kind.

If you're walking around and end up getting lunch, he's just so attentive and would listen to you talk about whatever happens to come out your mouth

10/10 would meet up with again, as along as you don't mind the neck cramps you get at the end of the day from looking up at him.

«────── « ⋅𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐨⋅ » ──────»

His sense of humor is elite, saying that right off the bat

He would more than likely be the person that takes a bit to come out of their shell, idk he just gives off that vibe

If you're a pretty out going person, he warms up a little faster

If you're the same way however, you got two shy kids just vibing

Once you're both all cool again though, chaos will ensue.

Chaos in the Wine Mom™ way though

a/n: welp here you go my babies muah muah

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supernaturalgirl20 · 2 years

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Okay, I’m coming at you with my Joel Miller Req 💜

(Might be a little cheesy, but idc 😋) My birthday is coming up in a few months, I’d love to gather a couple of fics for my favourite characters to read on said day 🥺

So, my req is everything a S/O could ask for from their partner (Joel) on their birthday. Kisses, Fluff, Smut, just generally all the love and attention from them, the moment the ‘reader’ awakes.

I trust you to do the rest, thank you my love! 🥰

Chloe I am so sorry this took me so long to write but I hope you like it 🥰🥰

All I Need is You

Pairings: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, PinV sex, oral (female receiving), kisses, fluff.

A/N: first time writing for Joel and this scared the s*** outta me, why is he so intimidating? 😉also I wasn’t going to post this today (b cause I posted yday) but I have to, it’s been in my asks so long I feel bad 😬

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

Joel groaned as he slowly awoke, the light from the morning sun shining through the curtains, illuminating your beautiful face - and your very naked body. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky; having you in his life was certainly not part of his plans here in Jackson. He’d tried damn hard to ignore his growing feelings for you but you weren’t nothin if not stubborn.

He lets his fingers run along your arm, goosebumps forming in their wake. He smiles as you stir a little, nuzzling in closer to him. God you were gorgeous in the morning’s. Halting his movements, he holds his breath until you settle down again. He didn’t want you to wake; not just yet.

Today was your birthday and he wanted it to be special, to treat you like a queen. He figures it’s the least he can do after everything he’s put you through. Placing a soft kiss to your head, he slides out of bed and dresses quickly before heading towards the kitchen.

First order of the day: breakfast. He wanted to make your favourite - pancakes, and Ellie had helped him get all the supplies he’d need for today. Where’s the goddam pan? Rummaging around the cabinets - he doesn’t hear footsteps gently descending the stairs - and is startled when he turns around to see Ellie standing in the doorway.

“You're making an awful lot of noise,” she says with a teasing smile on her face. “Well I can’t find nothin in this kitchen. Y/N normally does all the cooking.” He huffs in frustration before looking to Ellie for help. “Will you..?”

“Move over old man.” Together they make the fluffiest pancakes with a side of scrambled eggs, topped with a little bit of syrup. Joel looks over the tray of food, making sure he has everything before he makes his way back to you.

A contented sigh leaves your mouth as you begin to wake, the feeling of someone gently shaking you rousing you from sleep. Opening your eyes just a fraction you see Joel perched at the edge of the bed, a bright smile on his face. “Hmm, come back to bed baby.”

“As much as I’d love to, I’ve made breakfast. Happy birthday darlin.”

Awake now, you sit up and rest against the headboard - eyes taking in the tray of food. “Joel, you’ve made my favourite. Aw baby, thank you.”

“Gotta start the day out right, I’ve got a few things planned for today.”

“Like what?”

“Well now that would be telling wouldn’t it,” he says, sending you a wink before he begins to slowly move towards the door. “Take your time darlin, and when you're finished get dressed and meet me downstairs.” A nervous excitement bubbled up inside you as you tucked into breakfast. I wonder what he has planned?

***

When you finally came rushing down the stairs, you were greeted by Joel packing his backpack. He smiled when he spotted you and quickly closed it over - hoping you didn’t see what was inside. “Ready darlin?”

“Yep…can you at least give me a hint?”

“Afraid not baby girl. Come on, we gotta get going or the day will be gone.”

When you make your way outside, Ellie comes rushing over and pulls you into a tight hug. “Happy birthday Y/N. You’re gonna love what he has planned,” she whispers in your ear. “Come on now, I ain’t got all day.” Joel shouts from atop Callus. You look at him slightly confused. “We’re leaving?”

“Come on baby girl, ride up front.” Joel helps you up and you nestle yourself into him as you both take off. As you reach the gate Tommy smiles up at you both, a knowing look on his face. “Happy birthday Y/N. Enjoy yer day and we’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? What did he mean by to…”

“Hush now, we don’t want to attract any unwanted attention.” What the hell is going on?

***

Joel didn’t speak on the trek to - wherever it was he was bringing you - except to ask occasionally if you were ok. It felt like hours had passed since you left the safety of Jackson and your ass was starting to get sore. “We’re here.” Really? It’s just nothing but forest. Is he joking?

Suddenly you let out a gasp as you come upon a small wooden cabin - nestled among the trees and just on the edge of a lake. “Joel, this is beautiful.”

“Sure is,” he says, his gaze fixed on you. “How’s you find this place?”

“Found it a couple of weeks back on patrol, thought it’d be a nice surprise for your birthday.” He hops off Callus and helps you down, giving you a quick kiss before telling you to go inside. “Gonna just settle Callus for the night. Be right in.” The cabin itself is small - it has a small kitchenette, a couch by an open fire and one bedroom with an en-suite - but it’s clean. “It’s not much, but eh, I wanted to have a night away - just us.”

“Joel baby, this is amazing. This is the best birthday ever, so thank you. How is this place so clean though?” Joel shuffles from one foot to the other, his hand scratching behind his head. “I kinda…I’ve been coming here a few times since I found it…wanted it to look nice for ya.”

You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his waist, eyes gazing up at his handsome face. “You are something special Joel Miller. I love you.”

“Love you too, darlin. Why don’t you head down to the lake, have a swim?” Reaching up you kiss him softly on the lips, “I think I might. Are you going to join me?”

“I’m gonna get started on dinner.”

“Ok.”

***

Laying back on the grass - drying off after a quick swim - you're startled by the sound of Joel cursing. Fuck! Shit! Throwing on your top, you quickly make your way back to the cabin to find him standing over the stove in a flustered mess. You can’t help the little snicker that passes your lips. “Something funny darlin?” Walking towards him you reach out to take the pan off him, “hey, why don’t we just cook together?”

“I wanted to…”

“I know but I prefer this anyway, it means we get to spend even more time together.” You're like a well oiled machine the way you both work together, the perfect team. “You go take a seat baby girl, I’ll bring it over.” Opting for the couch you sit back and cross your legs, turning your gaze to Joel. He’s really made an effort.

“You're not sitting at the table?”

“Nah, that’s not really us, is it? I don’t need all the formalities baby, let’s just be..us.”

You catch him smiling as he slowly brings everything over to the couch. He hands you a beer and your heart practically leaps out of your chest. “No way! How did you get this? It’s my favourite.” You moan as you take a swig of it, the cool refreshing drink setting your tastebuds alite. “I can’t tell ya all my secrets darlin.”

You both eat in silence - a peaceful silence, one that only comes from being completely comfortable in each other’s presence. Joel finishes his food and lays back against the couch, hand resting on his stomach as he lets out a contented sigh. “You sure know how to cook, woman.”

“I’ve my nana to thank for that, she taught me everything.”

“Thank you nana.”

He sits up then, eyes focused on you and you can tell from the glint in them that he’s nervous. “Joel, are you ok? You seem..a little….”

He stands abruptly and moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. Is he? No..he said he never wanted this.

“Joel, baby you're scaring me..”

“I’m sorry baby girl…I’m just…I’m a little nervous.” He reaches into his back pocket and holds out a small wooden box. Looking into your eyes, he slowly lifts the lid to reveal two beautiful rings - two bands made of wood with a beautiful design carved into them. Your heart is fluttering within your chest and you reach out to hold your hand over his, eyes gazing into his.

“Joel I…I’m happy with how things are…you don’t have to do this just for me.”

“I know baby girl…I know I said I never wanted this, and I didn’t….but then you came into my life like a goddamn hurricane and I’ve thought about nothin else. I love you Y/N and I want the whole goddamn world to know you are my woman. Will you marry me?” The tears are streaming down your face now as you nod your head, “yes! Yes I’ll marry you.”

“I can’t give you a big diamond engagement ring, seems pointless with the state of the world, but I made these wedding bands for us. Carved them myself. Here, let me put it on ya.” You give him your hand as he slides the band on and you cry happy tears, lunging forward and capture his lips in a searing kiss. “I love you Joel.”

“Love you too baby girl. Will you do the honours?” He says holding up the box containing his band, which you happily take and slide onto his finger. “We’re married!”

“We’re married. Can I take you to bed now, Mrs Miller?”

“I thought you never would.” A squeal escapes your lips as he lifts you - your legs wrapping around his waist - and walks you to the bedroom. Laying you down gently, Joel quickly rids you both of your clothes. His eyes glaze over with lust as he stands taking in your naked form. “So fucking beautiful baby girl.”

He crawls up the bed towards you, his lips trailing light kisses along your thighs. His breath is hot as he hovers over your aching cunt. You list your hips, desperately needing him to touch you. Please! You whine and he smiles at you before me burying his face into your curls. Ooh! You moan as your back arches off the bed, hands finding purchase in his hair. He moves your legs over his shoulders and buries his tongue inside you.

You writhe beneath him as pleasure begins to build. He alternates between licking and sucking and shoving his tongue inside you that you are a complete and utter mess on the bed below him. That heat begins to form and you can feel yourself getting closer to that edge and you all but scream his name as your orgasm consumes you.

“Taste so sweet baby girl,” he says as he moves up your body, peppering light kisses along your skin. He’s flush against you and you can feel the tip of him nudging at your entrance but you push him onto his back. His hands grip onto your waist, steadying you as you straddle him. “Wanna ride your baby.”

Wrapping your hand around his thick cock, you pump him a few times before lining him up and slowly sinking down onto him. He groans - his head pushing into the pillow, the feeling of you wrapped around him making him dizzy.

His hands grip your hips as you begin to move above him - hips rocking over him. Sitting up he pulls your nipple into his mouth as he grabs you tight, pushing you down onto him.

“Joel…fuck….feel so good….I’m gonna…Ngh!”

“Come in baby….want you to come all over me…wanna feel you..”

“Fuck…oh fuck…Joel.”

You shudder in his arms as your cunt clenched around him - his trusts becoming erratic- sending him over the edge. He spills inside you, coating your womb. He never comes inside. You move off him and lay beside him, curling yourself into his side.

“Joel baby, you…you came inside…you…”

“I know darlin…I’m sorry I shoulda asked first but I figure, we’re married now so…”

“You're serious?”

“If it happens, it happens. Part of me would like to be a dad again, after Sarah…Hmm…and Ellie is getting older now, she doesn’t really need me any more.”

“Well I’ll always need you.” You tilt his chin towards you and place a soft kiss to his lips. Pulling away, you admire the ring he gave you. “I still can’t believe we’re married, baby. Today has been the best birthday, thank you.”

“Anything for you darlin, or should I say Mrs Miller.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

“Well you better, because you’re going nowhere now baby girl. You're stuck with me.”

Pic of rings:

Permanent tag list: @lunaserenade @anaaaispunk @maievdenoir @elinedjarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @alberta-sunrise @dihra-vesa @pintsizemama @athalien @loserrlauraa @thorins-queen-of-erebor @pascal-rascal424 @ikinmahlen @pascalisthepunkest @dindjarinneedsahug @almaeunice @jediknight122 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @colorlesswhispersunknown @stevie75 @rosie-posie08 @hauntedmama @greeneyedblondie44 @prettylilhalforc @giselatropicana @phoenixhalliwell @sherala007 @its--fandom--darling @donnaa @javierpinme @luxmundee @littlemisspascal @hayley-the-comet @ezras-channel-rat @misspearly1 @writer-darling @misspearlssideblog @sara-alonso

#pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fiction

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kwontinue · 2 years

Note

hiii!! i was the anon that requested svt picking outfits and you just made me smile and forget my worries that i had :) i was wondering what you thought about svt painting their s/o nails? if you are willing to take anon emojis, can i be 🍊 please? enjoy the rest of your day <3

nail polish

how seventeen would paint their s/o's nails

a/n: hello! thank you for requesting again and i am so happy that you smiled because of what i made. i'm really sorry that this is so short and took so long, i was busy finishing up some requirements for school :) also you can be 🍊 anon!

choi seungcheol

he would buy you expensive nail polish, he's baby needs to be as expensive as him

he recently said on weverse that he wants to learn how to paint or do art (?) so he'll definitely treat this as a learning experience

yoon jeonghan

IDC what anyone says he is the BEST at this

he would literally do gel nails... GEL NAILS

idk why i thought of this, but it feels right...

hong jisoo

would paint your nails to match the beaded bracelet he made for you

lives up to his title of gentlesexy by being gentle in pushing your cuticles back

wen junhui

he would not know what to do,,, help—

he just doesn't know the whole process of this and would be very very confused

kwon soonyoung

you will bleed. there's no way to sugar coat this

i am sorry, he would not know his own strength or how to control nail tools

jeon wonwoo

would be very confused at first but would still do it

actually enjoys it and would offer to do it for you next time

lee jihoon

THIS MAN WOULD HAVE A WHOLE FREAKING ROUTINE FOR YOU AND NO I DO NOT TAKE ANY CRITICISM

HAVE YOU SEEN HIS HANDS????

would literally pamper you so much

lee seokmin

confused bb

he wouldn't know how to do it :((

calls hao for help pls–

kim mingyu

100 % would spill the nail polish everywhere

he would be in so much pain from bending down, yes bending not looking down. the man is 6 ft 2

xu minghao

pls he would pull out all the stops

he's a fashionista and more importantly an artist, your nails would be so amazing if he did them

boo seungkwan

ANOTHER PERSON WITH GORGEOUS HANDS YRBEJEGRHE

this is a bonding activity for the both of you

he would do your nails, you'll do his

chwe hansol

BLACK NAIL POLISH

it will get messy tho bc this man has no sense whatsoever abt nail polish

lee chan

he would get so frustrated since the nail polish keeps on getting to the sides of ur nail ( i hope you understand what i mean, i just can't describe it lol )

want to add more but having a brain rot about how he probably would make you paint his nails for attacca era... LEE CHAN WITH A FREAKING LIP PIERCING, BLACK MULLET, AND NAIL POLISH i will peacefully pass away

#seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #jeonghan #dokyeom #joshua #junhui #jihoon #minghao #kwontinue asks #kwontinue #🍊anon #scoups #seventeen hoshi #wonwoo #mingyu #seungkwan #vernon #svt dino

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kaelenlen · 2 years

Text

Okay so I should probably study rn I'm literally in the middle of my exams but idc im failing/j but becos masama ang loob ko ngayon scaramouche angst. Im hurting myself with this🤟

Theme - full on angst, fluff soemwhere, Scaramouche x Reader, def not proofread

Do you have time?

Dating Scaramouche the 6th Fatui harbinger was not an easy task, though you somewhat did but whats a relationship with the balladeer without fights? We all know how sharp his tongue is.

But you being stubborn and actually getting close to him probably smitten for him, but Scara has his walls up still most of the times since he is hated by probably most people. But when its behind closed doors he can let loose and not on edge every time, though he thinks that you'll betray him aswell like Ei yknow since he doesn't want to be dependent to anyone but thats what relationship is right? Yep!

So at times, your relationship from an outsider perspective is just a person whose in love with someone who doesn't even acknowledge them. Yeah you felt that — most of the times. But don't worry Scara is there to comfort you, when he's not busy ofc :) Which isn't really that often but rarely so don't be surprised to sleep in bed alone that a routine to you now.

Visit him in his office because you got him something? "You can put it on the couch, love" Scara won't even bat an eye as he writes down on the paper.

Preparing a dinner date for the two of you? You need to prepare around almost midnight, since he works till hes exhausted leaving you eating alone— even at times would wait for him before you eat or don't even. Please eat the food.

Anything, anyway you show him you affection for him, dismissed or wasn't recognised, yes he would thank you, yes he would take you out but that was long ago when you just started dating now nothing really intimate or romantic happens between you two.

"Scara?" opening the door slowly, walking in his office, he hummed too busy signing some important papers to actually respond, yep you didn't expect anything new, taking a deep breath "Do.. You want to uhm.." standing awkwardly trying to— well atleast trying to think on what to say. Scaramouche stopped signing already looking at you, raised brow waiting for you to go on. Atleast he had some patience for you.

"Well– do you want to.. Walk on the shores later?— After your done ofc!" you said internally cringing at yourself, slightly smiling hoping he could say yes to your offer. "That's all? I guess we can after I finish this" Scaramouche deadpan, eyeing the stack of paper next to him. Yep. You exactly caught what he was saying, the stack of paper was mlre important right now than accompanying you. Sighing under your breath before smiling sweetly at him "yep! After you finished.. Then I'll be going now scara, don't forget to take a break" you said narrowing your eyes at him, he rolled his eyes playfully know how much you pester him about him taking a break. "Yeah I won't"

DAMNIT I CANT FINISH THIS MF DRABBLE I CANT MAY NAKITA AKO NA EOSHEO HUHHUHU KINILIG AKO NA DAPAT MATPOS KO ITO I WANNA FINISH IS BUT D KO KAYA( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)

I finished my exam for the day btw👍🏻

#scaramouche #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #angst???#Unfinished huhuhu #genshin impact #genshin angst #x reader #Di ko to kaya

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lexie-cameron8 · 3 years

Text

Alright, the one-shot I’ve been trying to finish for days now.

Warning: smut, light choking, cream pie, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), kinda shit towards the end.

A/n: An AU where Topper’s little sister participated in the TikTok trend, “Calling my brother’s best friend pretty”

Rafe Cameron X Fem!Reader

. . .

Y/n-

You're pretty ;)

Rafe-

What?

Does Top know that you're texting me rn?

No idc and it doesn't matter

because you're pretty

Fuck

Y/n say it again

You're pretty Rafe, so

fucking pretty

Shit, no stop

Make me

FUCK

Screw this shit I'm coming over

You can't

Toppers's home

You should've thought about

that before you texted me

I'm coming over

• • • • • •

After reading that final text message, Y/n felt a rush of butterflies form in her stomach. She'd quickly tossed her phone onto her bed and rushed into the bathroom.

As she turned on the shower and waited for the water to run warm, y/n couldn't stop thinking about Rafe's plans for when he arrived. The plans couldn't be good, especially if he was rushing.

They would be good, but bad at the same time.

Standing in the middle of her closet, y/n stared at the mirror in front of her. She played with the strings on a hoodie that she'd found as she examined her body in the spandex shorts that she wore.

She gave herself a nod and heard a knock on her bedroom door. "Y/n I will kick this door down if you don't open it," Rafe's voice echoed through her ears.

She slowly, but excitedly opened the door revealing a nearly sweaty Rafe. His face was slightly red and he wore a a backwards had that made Y/n weak at the knees.

Without any warning he stepped in, closed the door with his back foot and brought y/n into a rough and needy kiss.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?" He questioned in between every turn of their heads during their kiss. Y/n moaned into his mouth as a response.

Rafe had his hands roaming all over her body as the back of Y/n's knees hit the edge of the bed.

Her lips disconnected from his as slow as possible. She tried to make it nearly unbearable for him. She sat on her knees on her mattress with Rafe still standing in front of her. He trailed his fingers to her chin and tilted her head up to look at him.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned his head back. The sudden warmth that surrounded the top of his thumb surprised him. Rafe looked back down to find Y/n's tongue swirling around the tip of his thumb.

"Fuck." He mumbled while pulling dow his swim shorts along with his boxers. He removed his hand from her grasp and watched her lick her lips in anticipation.

Y/n watched his erection spring free from his restricting briefs and hit his stomach. She couldn't help but look up at him while she pulled him closer to her by his waist. His length was right in front of her breasts and Rafe didn't know if he could contain himself much longer.

Y/n placed tender kisses on his tip and trailed them down to the base of his length. A soft chuckle rolled of her tongue when she looked up to find Rafe's jaw clenched, he was tired of the teasing. "You're pretty when you look down at me like that." She taunted him with that phrase.

Though it was the reason he was there in the first place, Rafe truly hated how it made him feel. Weak at the knees, butterflies in his stomach. It made him feel soft. "Tsk...tsk" Rafe shook his head slightly and held his length, tapping the tip onto Y/n's lips. "Open up," he teased.

Y/n obliged and took his tip into her mouth. She swirled her tongue to collect any precum that might've leaked. Chuckles left her while she refused to take him any deeper knowing that it nearly killed him.

Rafe tried to keep eye contact with her, but it was nearly impossible. He was overwhelmed with the constant pleasure and anytime that Y/n made any noise it would send vibrations throughout Rafe's body and bring him to pure ecstasy. "C'mon baby, you can go deeper," Rafe cooed with his hands gently pushing y/n's head further down his cock.

She relaxed herself feeling nothing other than the growing heat between her thighs. She loved the way Rafe used her mouth for his pleasure, barley giving a care about her own.

Extremely loud moans escaped his mouth before he finally pulled y/n's head away. "Fuck, look at my pretty girl." Rafe's hand cupped her chin while using his fingers to spread her saliva around her chin. "Letting me use your mouth, god you're so fucking dirty." He crooned.

A soft smile showed in her lips as a tear streamed down her face. Rafe leant down and pursed his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her left eye. His tongue dragged down her cheek, licking her tears and tasting the salty liquid.

Y/n giggled as Rafe's tongue reached her lips, kissing her with small praises escaping his lips every now and then.

With his muscular body, Rafe pushed her down onto the bed so he was now hovering over her. "I'm gonna fuck you now if that's okay." Y/n placed a kiss on his soft lips and that's all Rafe needed to push into her.

Y/n's eyes widened as a loud moan was silenced when she glued her lips shut. Rafe chuckled with a rough thrust, bottoming out inside of her. Instead of the outcome he expected of blowing Y/n's mind with one thrust, he'd just hit a spot that nearly made him cum right there.

He threw his head back and groaned loudly, but it was quickly muffled with Y/n's hand. She couldn't have Topper know that she had company, especially if it was Rafe.

"If you're not quiet I will tie you up, get myself off and will edge you until it hurts." She threatened, but in some twisted way, Rafe liked it.

His eyes fluttered closed when he started to slowly thrust in an out of her, going his deepest every time. Y/n's arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. Though she wanted to kiss his lips, she has other plans.

Y/n arched her back just to tease him, her breasts pressing against his chin. Rafe's mouth sucked over her breasts sending her over the edge.

Y/n gripped the bed sheets and Rafe held firm onto her neck just to keep her quiet. The squirming girl underneath him made him feel the need to pull out because he was seconds away from coming.

But, Y/n stopped him by wrapping her legs around his waist. She wanted him, all of him. "Cum inside me Rafe." She whispered, still trying to recover from her intense orgasm.

With her words and the sexy tone, Rafe released his cum into her, connecting his lips to hers once again.

***

Y/n and Rafe stood in front of her bathroom mirror after a long ten minutes of after care. "What the fuck did you do to me?" Y/n laughed at her appearance. Dark hickeys, bruises on her hips, hair messy, saliva still spread over her chin and down to her neck.

“Looks like I did a good job,” Rafe teased, proud of his masterpiece.

Y/n then looked at his appearance. “I didn’t do half bad.” She smiled, admiring the messy hair, nearly faded hand imprints on his neck, and swollen lips.

“Did you say my pretty girl earlier?”

Rafe sucked in a breath. “I didn’t think that you’d remember that.” He chuckled before pressing a kiss on her lips as he stood behind her.

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wonwoonlight · 2 years

Text

my way to you / jeon wonwoo | chapter 2

➝ Wonwoo x fem!Reader

➝ rich!AU // heir & heiress!AU // best friends to lovers // idiots to lovers lol // fluff // a lil drama bc why not // somewhat angsty // clicheeeee <3

➝ series warning: OC is Dense with a capital D, so many cliches but idc, implied sexual activities (but no actual smut scenes), eventual suggestive scenes, theyre both idiots, food, insecurity and self doubts, somewhat toxic parents, someone fainted like once, not always proofread am sorry ;-; that’s probably it? tell me if there’s more!

➝ A/N: the first few chapters are really just me laying down the characters and the backgrounds sooo hopefully they wont bore you hehe enjoy as always and pls dont hesitate and drop by to give me your thoughts!

series masterlist

“Have you eaten dinner?” Wonwoo asks as he opens the door to the room you’ve claimed as yours in his penthouse. He’s just gotten back from work, and when he sees your shoes by the door, he immediately goes to your room before even washing up.

You shake your head, not even bothering to turn to him. “Too sleepy. Night, Won.”

Wonwoo smiles to himself, shaking his head in amusement before he steps inside and forces you out of the blanket. “You’re not staying over if you’re not going to eat. Shua told me you have three events to handle this month?”

You groan at the mention of your cousin, mumbling about how his mouth is too loose but immediately stops once Wonwoo gives you that pointed look. “It’s two. And I’ll just go home then.”

Your best friend sighs tiredly at your words, though he knows you don’t mean it—plus, he’s told Seungcheol, your personal guard, to go home already because Wonwoo will drive you to work tomorrow himself.

He’s seen the guy standing sturdily in front of his door earlier, and if Seungcheol’s there at this hour, it means it hasn’t been long since you’ve arrived because the guard usually left an hour or two after you told him he’s free to go.

Your driver has probably left first, already used to your arrangement with Wonwoo. But Seungcheol has only worked with you for a year at most and still feels the need to stand on guard at all time even though Wonwoo’s place has been considered safe since the beginning.

“Come on, accompany me eat at least,” Wonwoo tries again. “You’re probably here because you had too many meetings today and the last one is nearby, aren’t you?”

“Why ask if you already know?” you mumble as you reluctantly sit up on the bed before clinging yourself to his side. “Do you even know what to eat?”

Wonwoo shifts so you can lean more comfortably on him, your hair brushing his neck after you settle yourself there. “I’m just in the mood for some ramyeon, to be honest. Ordering would take too long and I’m not really in the mood to cook.”

“‘Kay,” you slowly nod, offering to make it for him despite your claim of being too tired just minute ago. “You go wash up. The ramyeon should be ready when you’re finished.”

“Thank you,” he squeezes your shoulder before letting go. “You can cook two just in case you feel like eating some. I’ll eat the rest if you can’t finish it.”

“I know, I know,” you scrunch your nose; ramyeon doesn’t sound so bad after all, and maybe you are a little hungry because you might or might not have skipped proper meals today and chose to fuel your body with nothing but bread and caffeine.

Fifteen minutes later, Wonwoo finds you playing with your phone on the dining table, two bowls of ramyeon already sit on the table.

“Can’t resist ramyeon, huh?” he jokes as he sits down across from you. His portion is a lot more than yours and he can only guess you only want to eat half the portion and place the rest in his bowl.

“I’ve only had bread and coffees since morning,” you honestly confess to him, grinning sheepishly at his disapproving eyes. “Didn’t have time to eat, Won. And you know I can’t sleep if I’m too full, else I’d be eating one full portion.”

“Why didn’t you eat earlier then?”

“I told you I’m too sleepy,” you huff. “Don’t feel like eating alone too, so I figured I might as well sleep it away.”

Wonwoo frowns once more in disapproval, and you’re already reassuring him you’re fine and you’re freer tomorrow than today so all should be okay. But Wonwoo doesn’t buy your excuse, well aware about your tendency to skip meals when you’re too busy because eating seems like a waste of time and you’d rather finish your work faster than take a break to eat when you’re in a trance.

“When did you even meet Shua?” you try to distract him.

“I didn’t. Needed to discuss something with him over the phone earlier,” he says as he stirs his noodle. “He said you dropped by their place a few days ago?”

“Yeah, I was bored and you had that shareholder meeting I think,” you shrug. “Didn’t we eat lunch together that day? Didn’t I tell you?”

Wonwoo shakes his head, taking off his glasses so it wouldn’t fog up. “You just told me you had a meeting for Yoon Holdings annual party.”

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” you easily brush away. “I wasn’t there for long anyway. Which is good because else they’d talk my ears off.”

“But they are true, princess,” he starts, already knowing what you’re referring to. “I don’t think it’s healthy to take on three projects at once like this.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you stubbornly say. “It’s only 8PM and I’m already sleepy, Won. My brain isn’t functional enough right now. You’re lucky I didn’t burn the house down making the ramyeon.”

Wonwoo holds back the urge to say that’s exactly why he doesn’t think you should be handling all these projects; that you’re already too tired and you're going to be even more tired for days to come. But he settles for a worried sigh, making a mental note to make sure you’re at least eating proper meals everyday.

“Speaking of, is your schedule full tomorrow? I only have one meeting in the morning and then I’m free for the rest of the day,” you ask, too tired to notice the way Wonwoo gets immediately silent at your question.

“I… My mom told me to do something for her in the afternoon,” he answers after a beat. “I don’t know how long it’ll take but I’ll tell you once it’s done.”

You’d usually prod more, not because you demand Wonwoo to tell you everything he does, but because you like hearing about Wonwoo and his day. But right now, you’re barely even conscious and Wonwoo isn’t sure if he should be glad that, for once, you don’t notice the awkward hesitation in his tone when he answers you, nor the vague reason he just tells you.

“I’ll just go call Chaeyoung then,” you shrug, taking the last bite of your meal already. “Do you want to watch something after this?”

“Sure, just let me finish this real quick,” he says as he slurps his noodle. “You know, I still don’t understand why you can’t sleep after eating. Most people feel like sleeping after a meal.”

“Dunno. I just feel sick and bloated if I lie down immediately after I eat,” you explain as you lean your face on your palm, watching Wonwoo drinking up the soup.

After he’s done, he tells you to pick the movie while he cleans up after the both of you. And when he steps into the living room, you’re already buried in the blanket you’ve reserved for watching movies. You turn to him, telling him to quickly take a seat so you can start the movie already.

So Wonwoo does exactly that, slipping under the blanket next to you and prompts you to automatically latch yourself to him, your arms hugging his as your head rests on his forearm.

It’s kind of crazy that his heart would still flutter at the gesture when you’ve been doing this to him since you were all kids; but he knows there’s no one to blame when he’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he’s probably used to the butterflies in his stomach by now.

Not long after the movie starts, Wonwoo hears your breath evening as seconds tick by and your head getting heavier on his arm. So he tries his best to subtly shift himself to make you more comfortable; if you’re going to fall asleep on the sofa, then he’d make sure you’re not sleeping even more uncomfortable than it’s already bound to be even though he knows he’s also gonna be unnecessarily sore in the morning.

As you press yourself closer to him in your sleep to seek his familiar warmth, Wonwoo can only wonder if you’ll ever know the effect you have on him.

It’s Friday night when you get to see Wonwoo again, three days after that time you slept over in his place, because you’ve both been busy that you can only bother him through the phone. Even now, the only reason you finally catch him in person again is because The Kwons is holding a 75th birthday party for their elder, who, according to your parents, is the founder and owner of Kwon Tech, the giant technology company that’s probably bigger than Yoon Holdings.

That said, this is just another rich people party that you go to because your parents force you to come in their place; for publicity, you assume. Because if you’re not going to be the head of Yoon Holdings, then at least you should be the face of the company.

You used to be reluctant to come to this party, mainly only there to accompany (bother) Wonwoo as you whine about how much you want to go home. But ever since you’ve started taking care of your company’s events three years ago, you end up coming to these parties to look for references.

Plus, the food is usually good and you’ll be with Wonwoo, so you figure it’s not so bad to be there as long as you have him by your side.

Your eyes wander around the venue, taking in the classic white and gold decoration everywhere. The buffet is pretty diverse; probably because they couldn’t be bothered to ask about each guests’ diet. At least they do have a ‘vegan’ and ‘peanut-free’ sections. The desserts are pretty good too, and you could’ve sworn the chocolate mousse they’re serving is the best one you’ve ever tasted. Maybe you should dig around and find out the catering service for this particular party.

“The strawberry mousse is better, you know,” a low but cheery voice says from beside you.

“Huh, really,” you say in a bored tone, not even bothering to turn to the person. Wonwoo goes to the toilet for one second and someone’s already trying to talk to you. Don’t people here usually think you’re dating Wonwoo? What’s with this guy? That rumour has always been successful in warding weirdos off that you never bother to correct them when they think you’re dating the youngest Jeon.

“Yeah, unless you don’t like strawberries I guess,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

Well that’s unexpected. You thought he would either: 1. drop a pick up line. Or 2. introduce himself and ask for your name. But this stranger seems to just want to share his thoughts on the dessert table.

“Do you not like strawberries?”

“Eh, I prefer chocolate,” you hum happily at your spoon, finally turning to take a look at the guy. You don’t know him--at least not personally, but it bothers you that he looks familiar for some reason. So you shoot straight to it. “Why do you look familiar?

He blinks in confusion, pointing to himself as if there’s anyone else you might be talking to. “Is that your way of asking who I am? I’m Kwon Soonyoung?”

“Huh. So are you one of the Kwons or are you from another Kwon family?”

“You’re funny,” he grins in amusement. “Yeah, that’s my grandfather right there. Thank you for coming to his party, I guess?”

You nod as you take the information in. Soonyoung looks about your age, and even though he’s not as tall as Wonwoo is, he’s still considerably tall compared to you. You expect him to ask for your name now that he’s told you his, but Kwon Soonyoung seems to be making a habit of doing things other than what you expect him to do.

“You’re Yoon Holdings’ heiress, aren’t you?” he with a friendly smile, his tone sounds like he’s making sure he doesn’t get the wrong person. “Jeonghan’s cousin?”

“You know Jeonghan?” you ask instead, not really answering him though that’s your way of basically saying yes.

“We might’ve met from time to time,” he shrugs.

Before you can say anything more, a familiar arm lays around your waist and you automatically lean into the touch. “Hey, sorry I got too long. Met Jinyoung’s friend and talked for a bit. And… this is?”

You know Wonwoo is pretending, because Wonwoo probably knows all the heirs of the companies that matter and is a possible partner for his father’s company. He’s more attuned to his company’s needs than you are, and you know Wonwoo knows who Soonyoung is--at least by name. He’s probably doing this because he thinks the guy is hitting on you.

“Kwon Soonyoung,” he introduces himself without hesitation. “Jeon Wonwoo, right? I’ve seen you both around at parties.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at this. So he’s seen you both together but still talks to you? He spares a glance at you, at which you just subtly shake your head to tell him all’s fine and Soonyoung isn’t doing anything weird. Wonwoo nods, but the protective arm around your waist doesn’t move.

“Right. Happy birthday to your grandfather,” he says politely.

“Thanks, the food’s pretty good, right?” Soonyoung grins, and you wonder if Soonyoung is really that proud about the overall food they’re serving or if he’s just making small talk. Nonetheless, you see this as your chance to ask about the catering service they’re using for this event.

“Oh, it’s actually my sister’s company,” he gleams with pride. “Are you interested in using her service?”

You chuckle amusedly at this; you’ve never seen someone from this society promoting their siblings’ business this way. Usually, people would just be pretentious and snottily offer a business card or something, being annoying about it in any way possible. Still, it’s a breath of fresh air and you honestly tell him that the chocolate mousse in your hand is the best you’ve ever tasted.

“It really is!” you laugh at Wonwoo’s questioning stare--because you don’t normally talk this much to a guy, or anyone you just meet, even though it’s essentially linked to your wish to probably use this catering place for future events. You take a spoonful from your precious dessert before holding the little spoon in front of his mouth. “I know you don’t like sweets, but this is dark chocolate, Won.”

Wonwoo looks at you hesitantly, but eventually gives in and opens his mouth so you can feed him the chocolate treat. Wonwoo’s ready to cringe, but instead hums in appreciation as the chocolate melts in his mouth. When he’s about to tell you it doesn’t taste as bad as he thought it would, you’re already looking at him with your ‘what did I tell you?’ face and a smug smile. So Wonwoo rolls his eyes and turns to Soonyoung instead, telling him his sister did a great job.

Soonyoung laughs, and happily nods his head in agreement. “I don’t have my sister’s business card with me. But here’s mine if you want to contact her through me.”

You half expect him to give his card to you, but he’s actually only giving it to Wonwoo. You wonder if this is his way of telling Wonwoo he means no harm towards you, that he isn’t here to flirt and all that.

“I… only have one card, it turns out,” he smiles sheepishly. “You both can share my card, I guess. But you can also just look up Lilac&Co on Google for my sister’s website.”

You decide you like Soonyoung. So you give him your phone and tell him to just put his number there, surprising not only Soonyoung himself but also Wonwoo beside you. If you haven’t been so taken on finding a new friend in Soonyoung after so long, you would’ve noticed the way Wonwoo’s grip tightens on your waist. But you just happily call Soonyoung with your phone so he has your number too, telling him you should hang out sometimes.

Just then, someone calls Soonyoung over, so he has to excuse himself from you and Wonwoo and says he’d love it if you guys can really find the time to hang out properly someday.

“He’s funny, isn’t he?” you grin to yourself.

“Huh,” he grumbles, not liking the way your eyes don’t leave his figure until Soonyoung’s out of sight. “Is he?”

You just look at Wonwoo pointedly. Maybe the fact that you two aren’t too keen on meeting new people is the reason why you’ve been friends for more than a decade--probably nearing two now, but Soonyoung seems like a fun person to be with and, if he manages not to make you roll your eyes in the span of five minutes, then he must be a decent enough person unless he’s just that good in hiding his pretentiousness.

Before either of you could say anything, Chaeyoung happily chirps in and joins you two by the dessert buffet. “Hey! Haven’t seen you guys since I’ve arrived.”

“Have you tried the mousse? They’re so good,” you tell her, and Chaeyoung is nothing but quick to snatch one from the table, already frowning in delight the moment the dessert goes into her mouth.

You both stay there to talk some more, with Wonwoo joining in from time to time though mostly he’s just there to listen. But, after some time, Wonwoo notices the way you’re fidgeting on your feet and suggests you move to the table so you can sit down and continue the talk there.

Wonwoo automatically scoots his chair closer to yours, just like the way your body immediately inclines to lean against his despite the chair between the two of you.

“Speaking of,” Chaeyoung suddenly stops talking and addresses Wonwoo, remembering something at the back of her mind. “Did you go to Golden Boat a few days ago for lunch? I think I saw you there with someone.”

Behind you, Wonwoo tenses a little; it’s so subtle--and you wouldn’t have noticed if you haven’t been sitting so close to the guy, but he stiffly shakes his head when you ask if he’s okay.

“Yeah. Needed to meet someone there because of my mom,” he answered after reassuring you he’s fine.

“Is it when you said your mom asked you to do something?” you question, remembering that day Wonwoo said he couldn’t have lunch with you. “Another date, huh?”

He nods, but doesn’t explain further. You don’t ask either, because there are times when Wonwoo just doesn’t feel like talking and he’s always reluctant to talk about the dates his Mom makes him go. You figure either his social battery is already out for the night, or he just doesn’t think it’s important to talk about.

You never really know how those dates go except that Wonwoo finds them bothersome and he only goes under certain circumstances. So, as you continue to converse with Chaeyoung about your next trip to Switzerland with her, you link your fingers with Wonwoo’s because that’s always something that calms him down since you were kids.

“Should we go back in a while?” you whisper when Chaeyoung’s busy stuffing her face with pasta.

“Your parents will say something again if you go back early,” he nudges you as he smiles a little. “Am fine. We can stay until the party ends.”

You hold his gaze, not buying it even a little. Furthermore, you’re pretty much used to your parents’ scolding so you don’t really mind getting the end of it once more if Wonwoo’s not feeling well. “We’ll go back in an hour at most, okay?”

Wonwoo simply scoffs in amusement, already knowing your mind is pretty much made. So he just nods as he squeezes your hand tighter, whispering a thank you as he gently bumps his head against yours.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever let go of you even if he could.

©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved. I don’t allow any reposting, translation, and any other kind of redistribution of this fic. Please tell me if you’re aware of anyone doing this without my permission.

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levmada · 2 years

Text

First Times Anthology, ch.7: all of me

work summary » Intimate, vulnerable, gentle. Concepts Levi is a stranger to, until you.

ch.summary: Just when you think you know everything about each other, Levi has a way of surprising you after a close call. In wake of the worsening odds against the Titans, you "punish" him for taking an unnecessary risk.

content/warnings: ACKERBOND, hurt/comfort, LEVI RAGE MODE, canon-typical violence, minor injuries, softcore porn tbh, nervous breakdown/some descriptions of dissociation&reactions to post-trauma events, oh my god is that a reference to canon??, heart-to-heart talks, oral (f!receiving), creampie (f!receiving), Levi is always so careful idc, praise, resolved misunderstandings

wc: ~9.7k

a/n: i call this the 'learning to unconditionally love every facet of each other' chapter in addition to the more general name of the fic, 'levi therapy hour'. alternatively, the 'oh my god, is that a reference to canon??😱' chapter.

it's autumn year 849.

originally this chappy was gonna be split in 2 parts, but since every other chap is centered in one period of time b/n longer stretches (because it's an anthology, duh), i decided the last one is too separate to call it pt2.

BUT this is the real bonafide guaranteed second-to-last chapter. i mean it this time lol. that one is v close to being finished (i am stubborn and refuse to finish the closing paragraphs w/out finishing the one last singular scene, which.. is smut) and im thinking mid june or so!

ps: for all intents and purposes of getting railed by levi, pregnancy doesnt exist. pps, fingernails grow back. youll understand later, i just worry abt misunderstanding.

previous part・work masterpost・last part

Listened to while writing:

Your first time is that following autumn, in all its golden-browns, dashes of fiery red, and silver skies. The summer season had finally burnt itself out, and it was time to breathe a sigh of relief for another season you both left still fighting.

Levi returned in the early evening from a days-long trip to Mitras on official business between him and the Commander. With paperwork out of the way, you had made a warm, filling dinner (with real butter, too, though meat was too expensive)—for no other reason than you had missed him, and you knew how irritating he finds those trips.

Afterwards, in bed, he stirred against you and leaned over to kiss. You kissed him harder. It was certainly no surprise when he crawled between your bare thighs, hands stroking up and down your freshly-shaved legs—nor when he pulled away and asked, “Did you change your mind while I was gone?”

You knocked away the covers, as it’d quickly grown too muggy, and shook your head, heart suddenly pounding.

Before he left days before, you had asked his thoughts on going further than you ever had in the past, on him being inside you. His eyes had grown a touch wide, but he had nodded, and since he had been gone, the anticipation took over your mind.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous.

“You think you need more?” he asks now, earnest, but his voice is muffled against your slit, lapping, then suckling over your puffy clit. He licks in maddeningly hot, lazy circles.

You shudder with a light cry, hands in his hair combing it backwards. His heavy tongue has you clenching down around his three fingers that slowly fuck into you.

“No.” At least, you don’t think so—he’s been so thorough, and so fucking careful—but the bunches of butterflies fluttering in your chest want to say otherwise.

You stammer, “T-Two times not enough for you?”

“Believe me…” He sits up on his haunches, three fingers curling inside you, his other hand idly pumping his red, swollen cock. “It is.”

You make a blind grab for the sheets and rock your hips to meet him. “Then hurry.”

He licks his swollen lips and gently withdraws his fingers. While clambering on top of you, he nonchalantly licks your sweet cum from them, though his nerves beat like a racehorse in his chest.

Your hand replaces his around his reddened shaft, the slide so easy from how much he’s leaked all over himself. More than before, you take in his size and realize how thick he is.

“Levi,” you whisper.

He rocks into your loose hand, and sighs in bliss. “Yeah.”

“C’mere,” you plead, but before you can finish your buttery lips are already moving together.

“But you—” kiss, “—stop me—” kiss, ”—for any reason.”

You admire the sheen of sweat on his hairline, the heat on his cheeks, the slope of his jaw, and almost forget to reply. “You say that every time, and guess what happens every time?”

“This is different.”

“Nu-uh. Same, ‘cause it’s you.”

With a huff, he hoists your knees a touch higher around his slender hips and lines his cock up level with your mound—to see how deep he’ll go. You shiver.

He cradles your hip as he feels you draw tense. “I assure you it is.”

Your teeth hook into your bottom lip. You're so damn nervous, it’s easier to think so. Levi will take care of you, though. That’s guaranteed.

“I’m nervous,” you surrender. “But it’s probably not much different, right?”

He shakes his head into the shade of your neck; even without knowing what it’s like with a woman, he's confident you’re wrong.

In return, you throw one leg over his back, digging your heel in.

“Hey,” he gasps, “you can’t just—”

You drag him that much closer, caging him in with both arms and thighs. Between your spread legs his hips involuntarily twitch towards, then grind down against your sticky wet slit. He nudges your clit with the head, just to see how you’ll react, and your hips bow up against his, whining miserably.

To reassure him, you massage his lips with yours. You don’t want to feel anxiety crushing you while you ache and clench for him around absolutely nothing. You need him. You need him.

“C’mere,” you beg again, and he lines himself up. Something hot, round and hard catches on your rim, and then pushes inside.

Levi’s desire pounds between his thighs and thunders in his ears. The drag is hot, soaking wet, and hugs his cock so tight that his jaw falls completely slack.

He’s certainly never felt this before.

For a moment his mind is utterly blank, reeling, and you cling onto him so tight.

“Fuck,” you croak by his ear. He’s only halfway. “It’s so big.”

He says nothing—if he opens his mouth a string of noises will tumble out; showing how good he feels when you’re not there yet doesn’t feel right—and cradles you between both thick biceps, panting hard. It’s like your pussy is tightening to suck him deeper inside.

You shakily whine his name, seeking purchase by the strong planes of his back.

All you can think of is the uncanny feeling of your body stretching to take him. Levi isn’t big by most standards, but he makes up for it in thickness, and it’s plump even while flaccid.

It feels like he’s splitting you in half. Like all that preparation hardly made a dent in this blindly intense feeling. He was right.

“I know, it’ll feel better soon. Jus’ a little more, sweetheart.”

He watches your features carefully and bullies his hand between you to fall over your mound. In firm, easy circles he strokes you, kisses your temple, then the side of your parted lips. “That better?”

A sigh is punched from your lungs. “Yes.”

Pleasure licks up your spine when your hips finally kiss. He’s here. “Levi, Levi.”

He says your name in return, his breath fanning over your face. It’ll get better from here. His hand moves away from your clit upwards to cradle the back of your head.

You crack your eyes open, only to find his shut above you, jaw tight and features pinched in pleasure. His bangs dangle in his eyes, so you push them back, and his eyes flutter open.

Bright eyes the color of twilight blink back at you, his pupils like two round black pools. It doesn’t feel like much else needs to be said.

His calloused fingers hug the thick of your thigh, where you’re shaking slightly. “I’m gonna go slow at first. Relax—can you do that for me?”

His endless care is anything but lost on you, which helps you relax all by itself. You nod, physically going soft and lax in his arms.

A small gasp sounds against your lips to feel you throb gently around him. He will last, certainly, but never did he imagine it’d feel this good before even properly starting. It frazzles his mind as much as it seems to do yours.

“Baby,” you groan, scraping down his back. “Move.”

Experimentally, he grinds into all that heat. You whimper. Then he goes further, rolling his hips, and rocks in slow, shallow thrusts to the feeling of your own twitching up to meet him halfway.

Actually doing this, there was nothing—and is nothing—he feared more than hurting you at all. Pain should never be a given in this, like he falsely assumed in the past—which is why he burns brightly to take in the pinched bliss on your face now; even though he wants to lay you back and slam into you so bad.

“There you go,” he murmurs, hot breath fanning over your lips. “Good. That’s my girl.”

A soft moan falls off your lips. Pleasure apart from the feeling of Levi rocking into you, but just as intense, writhes in your chest. Your walls flutter hard around where he’s begun to properly fuck you, and then he catches your rim, and your hips abruptly buck up into him.

A louder groan rumbles by your ear. “Fuck, you’re so tight—”

“Please! F-Fuck me so good.”

Deeper, faster he buries himself inside you enough to hear his balls slap against your pelvis. If you want more, he will give it to you gladly. Hearing you beg for him, moan his name, winds him up hotter and hotter.

For once, his embarrassment evaporates—it doesn’t even register. It’s how sweet your voice and how good your cunt feels taking him so deeply, so readily.

All of it: all of him, all of you.

The bedframe whines, and he can’t remember when, but at some point your palm snakes over his forehead, tossing his bangs back so you can grab a good handful and coax him in for another breathtaking kiss. Immediately you take his bottom lip between his teeth, and his mouth parts obediently to let you in.

“Fuck,” he groans. You can’t even think to lick into his hot, sticky mouth and rather gape into his mouth, crying out when he slams into that perfect spot. “Right there?”

Your ankles lock around his lower back, moaning shamelessly right by his ear, which is enough of an answer. He squeezes your inner thigh, spreading you wide open, which changes the angle enough for him to slam into that perfect spot every time.

“Yes!” you gasp in approval, head falling back to expose your neck to him. Your chests heave together, and it suddenly and swiftly registers in your mind—he’s fucking you, taking you, on top of you, all around you. You feel yourself getting close.

He feels you too—that subtle lift in your back and the added sting of sweet pain from your tight hold on his dark hair. Where he grinds, his thrusts, splitting your pussy wide open, he feels you spasm and tighten.

“Look at me,” he begs quietly by your hairline. Heat rolls through him. Quieter, “Please.”

You pry your eyes open half-lidded, and you do—you look deeply into his soft, blazing eyes, inspiring your whole body to shudder. A hot blush paints his sharp features, tight from pleasure.

Just watching him somehow hurls you closer to the point of no return. His pink lips are perpetually parted for you, and once, his eyes flutter, a fragile moan escaping, and you grab for his hand. He locks them on the pillow beside your head in response.

Your tits bounce along with his quick thrusts. You try to tell him you’re close, but you can’t. Each sound ripped from you is punctuated by another wet slam of his hips.

A grunt is punched from his chest, so much so his sweaty forehead falls on yours and his rhythm skips. He’s about to come, too.

“Fuck—” He noses your cheek, panting, “—you hear yourself? Fucking gushing around me—”

“Yeah, yes.” You paw for his sturdy shoulders as heat like an electric bolt rolls over your whole body, drawing you up tight. His fat cock splits your sticky cunt now in a flurry of hard thrusts. You uncontrollably struggle to writhe when a hand bullies itself between your bodies, and the frantic attention he gives your clit shoves you into your climax, dashing your vision in bright white.

“Fuck!” He slams into your cunt, “Good fucking girl.”

You don’t have enough mind to hear yourself let go, but Levi does—the loud cry ripped from your throat, your babbled whimpers, and his name and his name and his name being moaned at the ceiling. You’re so fucking loud that if someone was walking past, the sound would be unmistakable.

You writhe so fucking hard in his arms that he has to hold you down to fucking you through the silky-soft spasming of your cunt. You go so nice and tight, practically milking him, and combined with the rest runs his blood white-hot.

His end hits him close behind yours. It slams into him hard and sudden, making his cock surge, making him gasp. His hips stutter and his balls give a deep throb, and then he falls into it just as you’re coming down from yours.

Shaking and shuddering, these little mewls fall off your lips as you get to watch his jaw fall slack and utter bliss take over his blushing face. You get to hear a loud, rasping moan above you and feel him fuck you to completion, then his hot cum shooting deep inside your pussy, making your toes curl. So much, and a little more.

And then, when all that’s left is for him to slow and the swift heavy sounds of both your breaths, you feel him throb softly as he starts to soften inside you. His face is shaded in your neck, and neither of you move at first. Your sweaty hands are still squeezed.

He makes a noise. Idly, he realizes the mess that’s begun to dribble out between where you’re both connected, and pulls out slowly, rubbing the tremors out of your thighs.

Softly, you whimper at the sudden sense of loss you feel, stroking his messy hair with tingling fingers. A completely whole sense of warmth drapes over you now, leaving you sleepy.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly from beside you. He feels it’s the right thing to do no matter what.

“Yes,” you whisper, and roll over towards him. You squirm to feel it—a creamy mix of his mess and yours caking your inner thighs. You’re a little sore, but completely fucking satisfied. Your limbs are heavier than steel.

He shakily shuffles out of bed, and you stay still, spreading your legs so he can clean you up with a lukewarm washcloth. After he seems satisfied with his own state, you lug yourself up into a sit and kiss him tenderly.

It’s slow, and it’s lazy, but it rattles you to the core.

Levi still occasionally gets overwhelmed after. He stutters to pull away first, looking spent in a strained way, doesn’t reach out to touch you. Only if you initiate—this time by stroking his sinewy arm does he relax slightly.

“Are you okay?” you ask him in return, and immediately he nods, eyes softly closed. You take his cheek towards you and kiss his forehead reverently, like you mean to bless him, before you decide to take a bath.

He, ironically, likes bubbles and soaps with the softest smells; mostly fresh daisies and sweet smells. After helping you into the blissfully hot water, causing you to sigh softly, he sinks in behind you.

Washing has to ask for less time. As he does your hair, you take a small handful of bubbles and plop them on top of his head.

He is thoroughly nonplussed by this. “You’re such a brat,” he tells you quietly, in that same tone he uses to compliment you.

You shift back around, rocking the water, and hum as a pair of strong arms close around your waist. “My legs are still shaking.”

And for that, Levi clearly doesn’t give himself enough credit.

With one wide palm he rubs the aches out, and busies the other with smoothing your hair back so no shampoo stings your eyes. It took quite a bit of practice for him to get both good and gentle at doing it; he used to wash Isabel’s hair, but that was a long time ago.

“Thanks,” you murmur. Bubbles wobble around when you shift to make room so he can stretch his legs.

In reply, he kisses the shell of your ear. It’s nice, but it can’t last forever, either. An expedition is coming up soon—the last of the summer season.

You’ll be breathing clean air while your comrades’ blood is spilled for two weeks straight.

And spilled it is.

You haven’t seen running water or a warm bed in almost two weeks since departing from Karanese District. Some days are better than others, even some mornings less dire than nights, but considering how little you can bring yourself to sleep out here, you catch yourself thinking of it as one eternal, bloodsoaked day often.

However, today was—to put it lightly—especially dire.

The night is humid. The sun stole away the worst of the heat a while ago, but the air is thick, leaving dew staining the grass. Your mind is muddy, abandoned on the battlefield, but the adrenaline never really dries up outside the Walls. You could spring into battle the very next moment if the situation called for it.

The tent flap collapses shut behind you. As soon as the strategy for tomorrow and the day after was charted, Levi pushed himself off the wall and fled.

You always give him space when he needs, and you had concerns for the Commander: mainly a couple of caches that were abandoned after Maria fell, and whose retrieval was the main objective of this expedition.

But after today, you’re breaking that rule.

Levi being Levi, no one questions what he does. It's like him to skip pleasantries, but he isn’t waiting for you outside the tent, nor at the makeshift canteen (a glowing bonfire) where watery stew and ration crackers are being handed out.

It’s easy to pinpoint when things went awry, which makes the fact that you don’t understand what exactly happened all the more frustrating.

ODM was nearly useless in those long stretches of plain green fields. What made the situation more precarious was the old riverbank in the area that—back before Maria fell—used to carry ferries back and forth between districts with a metal pulley system. Given its size, it’s impossible to cross, and the rushing water is a drowning risk if the underlying metal didn’t break your back first.

And that’s exactly where Titan numbers grew overwhelming today. At the time, Gunther and Petra were elsewhere in the formation to assist other squads, leaving you, Eld, and Levi to yourselves.

With every step, if you focus hard enough you can still feel giant footsteps rattle your bones. Shitty luck had it that you were swatted by an Abnormal close enough to the steep riverside to be hurled into the water like a stone into a pond.

When you were a girl, your father’s political standing with the royal government allowed you the privilege to take swimming lessons. They would have, for once, proven useful if your loose hadn’t tangled you in a steel web after you hit water.

One free arm and as little as you could kick your feet didn’t mean a thing as you were tossed from rapid to rapid. Weeds and algae had infested in the absence of the ships, making what sparse rocks there were too slippery to grab.

You’re sometimes pushed to believe that Levi is attached to you not by heart or feeling, but an invisible twine. Lack of air combined with the constant red flood of adrenaline dragged the nightmare out exponentially, but you were told later it was a minute, if that, before Levi did one of the most reckless things he’s done in a long time and dove in after you.

In his defense, Eld told Levi that he couldn’t swim, so Levi lied and said he could. Otherwise, you would’ve drowned. Eld covered your backs during that time.

You remember a force stronger than the rapids taking hold of you, you remember hacking out lungfuls of water, shouting, the shove and yank of the water, and the scrambling—for something, anything. Dirt, even now, stays clotted underneath every single one of your fingernails—except two, for you no longer have them.

The only thing he did that was more bad than good was hold onto you, causing the tangled wires to be pulled tight like a snake around its meal. It was you who managed a snag on a fat, bulbous root wider than your palm could wrap around, but he was the one who plunged his sword into the wall of muddy earth, snapped his blade in half like shattering glass, and cut you free as much as the chaos you were neck-deep in allowed.

He ordered you, hold still, and then dread, as thick as oil. You don’t remember how he lost his hold on you—it all happened so fast—but as if in slow motion you can easily recall pivoting downstream, your palms greased from the wet earth in order to save your savior.

Levi can’t swim.

But then the surface of the water broke in the center of it all. Your shoulder is still killing you from where he first seized, then hauled you back to the wall with one arm, the other pushing the water aside.

You hadn’t froze up in years in battle, not until today, because who was carrying you just wasn’t Levi—not with glowing, unseeing marble in place of his eyes, not saying a word, not with that look on his face.

The next thing you knew, air was punched from your lungs with the force you were thrust upwards. Dirt smeared your cheek in ugly clumps and you clawed for purchase—ripping out earth for all you care—14 kilos of equipment and all.

Despite the fear running through your blood, you were about to call out to him when earth squelched and his elbow hooked around yours. He was himself again, with the command to either shed your gear or move faster.

So, you leaped. Wildgrass, stringy and thick, was all you needed—besides him shoving you by the bottom of your boot—to swing yourself over the precipice like a climb out of hell.

He was still normal when you literally dropped your arm over the edge and helped him the rest of the way—eyes sharp and determined, but still normal. If he hadn’t been, you have the feeling now that he wouldn’t have even needed your help.

That was somehow scarier to imagine.

Eld, blood steaming off his face, rode by on horseback to escort you due to the wretched state of your bloody hands. Levi stayed behind to clean up the rest of the Abnormals.

There’s nothing anyone should, or even could discuss in the heat of battle, but you still waited for a second look, something, even though that was foolish.

At first, you managed to convince yourself it was the white-hot adrenaline, or the pain so sharp it made your working mind feel somehow outside your body that conjured up what you saw. But after emerging from sleep in one of the wagons for the injured, you refused to doubt.

Levi is strong, but no one is unstoppable.

This rift wasn’t because you were slow to react for those few moments, or even that you launched off the wall to save his life. In fact when the two of you next spoke—before charting strategies with Erwin and the rest, but after the sun sank into the earth—he didn’t seem to understand at all beyond what was only obvious to him.

He asked, “How bad is it?”, and all you could bring yourself to do was shake your head. It felt so hard just to look at him; you were afraid if you did, you would see that other person again.

You haven’t spoken since, but to be fair you needed to recoup, to gather your wits again like a bunch of loose feathers. For all the scrapes, cuts, and contusions, you put the most energy into processing that power that overtook him for those few precious seconds. You struggled.

But it’s time to do something.

You grip the belts of the ODM tethered around your waist so you don’t end up picking at your bandaged fingers. Nervous habit.

You can’t forgo what little reprieve from the fight you now have without discussing it, and it’s guaranteed Levi won’t be the one to instigate the conversation—not until his frustrations completely boil over. He’s always needed help communicating, and this is certainly no exception.

Near the barricade at the entrance to the village is where you find him, seated on a log before one of the smaller campfires. It’s not necessary: where buildings don’t cover, makeshift barriers stand, and green capes in full ODM stand posted around the perimeter, but Levi is nothing if not vigilant.

“Hey,” you say.

He grunts, not so much as twitching at your approach. The roles are reversed now: he can’t seem to look at you.

You both bathe in the heat from the fire in silence until you can’t take the quiet anymore. Hands on your hips, you watch the flames. “You saved me today.”

“You would’ve done the same.”

“That’s not the point,” you argue softly, making yourself heard over the crackling firewood. “You can’t swim.”

Dirt scuffs behind you. Once his warm palm lands on the nape of your neck, tears immediately spring to your eyes. You feel yourself pull towards him—something almost scarily inevitable, like gravity pulling rain to the earth.

You return the gesture and sway there gently in silence. Both of you smell like dead fish dipped in blood, leather squeaks, and your gear clunks together, but neither of you care.

“Your injuries?” he asks against your lips, a little blandly.

You sway a little. “I’ll live.”

In response, he bullies the fingers on his free hand under the belt tethered by your hip, and holds you there.

In terms of an apology, he won’t give you one: there is no risk from today that he wouldn’t take all over again, but in terms of an explanation, he can’t.

“I just… knew what I had to do,” he attempts to explain, only to watch the look on your face turn pensive.

He recalls the look on your filthy face, eyes blown wide in fear once back on solid ground. By the time he rejoined the formation and you woke up, it hadn’t gone away, not completely.

A fear of his own seizes him, so he pulls away. He can’t look at you. He fears that if he does, he will see it oozing from your expression again.

Very rarely does he see you truly afraid. You’ve almost met death multiple times. It’s him, it must be, because he can’t fucking swim and yet he saved both your lives despite every facet of the situation that should have made survival impossible.

In that moment, he felt, or was, unstoppable. He’s felt that way before, and you’ve seen him do the impossible before—he fails to understand what’s so different this time.

“What is it?”

He makes his voice carefully even, but you know him better. You take a steadying breath before launching into an explanation of your side of the story: what you saw, how you didn’t believe it at first, and how you felt—how the fine hairs on the back of your neck stood up when he grabbed you, how your blood froze and how astounding his sudden strength.

Now he’s sitting, arms crossed over his knees while you scuff the dirt with the toe of your boot. When you describe the way he looked, he asks, “What was wrong with them?” and you look away.

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

He frowns. “Spit it out.”

“It was like you weren’t even there. They—well, glowed.”

Silence. You attempt to make the one-sided conversation light. “It’d be impressive, if it wasn’t life-or-death, of course.”

“I don’t remember any of that,” he admits quietly, barely audible over even the crickets.

Shadows dance across his face as you ask what he means by that.

He shakes his head and repeats himself like a broken record. He never remembers those moments. It’s an experience only comparable to spectating your own falling body while it expertly kicks and flails in search of solid ground.

Maybe it isn’t that he knew what he had to do, but his body. It acts sometimes without his permission, but only to defy death when he himself cannot. At that point he’s instinct alone, an empty mind, a blank slate.

“Have you ever had moments like that?” he ventures to ask, not looking at you because he’s confident what you’ll say.

You give it some genuine thought, raking through your memories. “No, Lee. I haven’t.”

As he thought. He says nothing, but scooches to make room for you to sink down on the log beside him. You ask why.

“Forget I asked.” If you were scared of him then, or now as you described it, then there’s the possibility of tomorrow; it’s better the conversation ends here.

You drape your bandaged hand over his scraped knuckles. “It’s okay,” you say.

Levi measures the breaths he takes. There must already be alarms going off in your head, alerts that he’s upset, but you wouldn’t understand no matter what he said. He understands it very little himself.

“It really was impressive,” you go on, squeezing a little despite the pain. “And I wanna know what you think.”

“Were you scared?”

You look up, but his hollow eyes are on the fire. The way he’s turned only lets you see half of his face.

Feeling frayed, “Everyone’s scared to die, aren’t they?”

“Not dying.”

“...You mean—” your heart falls, “—of you?”

He says nothing. Frowning deeply, you carefully put your hand on his shoulder, giving him the freedom to shrug you off, which he does, albeit hesitantly.

“Levi—”

He stops you. “You’d have every right to, if you were. Or are. Don’t spare my feelings because you’re—you.”

“I wouldn’t,” you protest. It stings that he assumes you’d lie.

“I know.” His expression turns hollow. “I’m just saying I’d get it—if you were scared. I didn’t know all that until you said it. So, if you’re scared–”

You’re happy to hear him out until he starts to repeat himself.

“Levi, stop.” You shake your head, incredulous with him. “That’s ridiculous.”

He scoffs.

“I mean it. I’ve never actually been scared of you; except in the beginning, maybe.”

Who wasn’t? One time, a Scout remarked that Isabel was a ‘snot-nosed bitch’ within Levi’s earshot, and he marched right up to the guy and said nothing before kicking the absolute shit out of him. He was put on medical leave for weeks.

In no way does he look or sound amused, but at least he doesn’t rebuke you. You go on, remaining truthful: the situation itself was at the root of the terror you felt, not him. In that moment, yes, you were scared, but it never crossed your mind that he would hurt you.

“Would I be here if I was scared of you?”

He scans your expression for a hint of deception, but finds none. This conversation is new to you both, not because he went out of his way to hide it from you, but he always excused those blank moments away as heightened instincts.

He’s used to it, that power. He was as defenseless as any kid before it awakened in him. As for you, he can’t recall ever being in such close proximity when those instincts took over—not surprising, since it’s near-impossible to keep your eyes on each other when there’s a battlefield raging around you.

Again: “Why did you ask if I’ve ever had a moment like that before?”

Levi looks away, feeling his eyes ache when he closes them. “It’s kind of unbelievable.”

“Try.”

Your pinkie closes around his own, and he links them. “The man who raised me had those moments too.”

He opens his eyes. There are a plethora of reasons why Levi would rather not think of himself as related to Kenny in any way. He felt that way before he left him too, but the difference is that assuming he was explained away why he saved his life. Few things could explain why Kenny left.

So that conclusion is trembling, it’s cruel, and it’s shameful. It was enough that he had to come to the conclusion that Kenny left him that day because he couldn’t measure up to the strength he always spoke so highly of.

“...Can I ask a more personal question?”

“Try.”

“Did—your mom ever mention anything?”

For an endless stretch of time, he doesn’t reply. His knitted brow tells you he’s wracking his memory for something, anything; if not something about the power, then anything out of the ordinary.

“I was too young, so not really.”

You quirk a brow suggestively. Not really isn’t a Not at all.

“She told me once that we don’t have a last name because we’re good people,” he finally says, then pauses. “So, as I said, no. Not really.”

And you know even less. You decide to let this topic go. “How I feel about you is the furthest thing from scared,” you murmur.

He gives you a small, meaningful glance, then nudges your temple with his lips. “Thank you.”

You rest there in silence for some time, just like that. Crickets sing their songs and lightning bugs blink in the darkness. It’s still sinking in that you’ve both made it through another day. He doesn’t want to forget, so he can’t bring himself to admit he needs to be alone right now. Not yet.

“Will you sleep?”

He gives you a look, because you know the answer to that question. Still, you encourage that he get a few hours at least.

“Later.”

If he’s not mistaken, a majority of the force is sleeping in barns, so he’s in no hurry.

You kiss his temple, and leave him.

Levi makes himself at home in his head until his backside falls asleep and the flames die down in the heart of the logs.

He’ll never know the answers—hell, if only he knew the questions. Power—the power—was Kenny’s religion, if some idiot could ever think him a religious man. Kenny loved to talk, but he never bothered to tell Levi anything important those years he looked after him. He never even learned Kenny’s last name.

It doesn’t matter, he reasons, because no matter the reason he possesses the power, no matter where it came from or if it’ll ever leave him—it’s his to use.

It’s the perfect strength, the keenest of instincts, and it’s his.

One thing is terribly obvious to him now. The reason, then, that he’s so often left behind is because he’s not good enough, compared to the power. There’s in the end no one, and nothing else, deserving of more blame.

But today he was good enough, and for that he can forgive himself. Just for today.

The most notable thing about the charge back to Wall Rose is the incessant rain: the ground more resembles mush than earth, the rivers spill over into the soggy grass, and everyone is waterlogged in one way or another, most from head to toe.

As a result, it takes three days longer than it should to reach the gates: visibility is worse than terrible, the horses have a hard time moving in it, and the quickest route runs beside the main riverbanks. It isn’t an option.

It goes without saying that Levi is jumpier than usual. He’s snippy you decided not to ride with the injured, and with the rain on top of that, he might as well have a stormcloud over his head (and Oluo too, for how hard he tries to imitate him).

But he never complains. Scouting leaves no room for bitching about the rain when any one of your friends got swallowed before your eyes days before. He very much wears a stony mask on expeditions, where he’s no longer himself, but fierce in his role as Captain; you as his Lieutenant.

Still. Through the mist and the haze and the rain clinging to your bones, as the visage of Rose plastered to Trost’s gate broke through the fog, you just about tear up. For once, it isn’t the rain. Petra laughs out loud and Oluo admonishes her for it, but then he starts laughing too.

“And just when I thought we wouldn’t make it!”

Gunther whistled. “What a sight.”

“Not until we’re all inside,” you caution them, remembering yourself, and the glimmer of celebration dies down.

Levi tosses a look back at you and motions towards the head of the formation, where Erwin is sure to be. Inevitably, Hange and Mike are already parting their squads to join him, as is customary.

You’re not obligated to join him like the rest, you two sharing leadership of the squad, so you shake your head. You’re not thrilled for the crowd of disgruntled townsfolk to crowd you all, to hear—no matter how hard you try to tune them out—their gasps of dismay, for them to jeer at the blood spilled and say: “Those damned Scouts. It’s like they want to die,” and so on and so on and so on.

Levi nods. “Meet back.”

That is Levi-speak for, See you at our place as soon as you’re finished showering.

You wonder if you’ll have the energy. You could doze off on your trotting horse.

A nod. “Sir.”

You spot the second most notable thing, ironically, once you’ve trudged past the gates ahead of the rest of your squad. Your mind is a waking fog, the world mere background decor, but it’s difficult to miss kids at a funeral. It’s the Cadet Corps.

You toss a look over, and spot them in a row with no sign of Shadis, unsurprisingly. It’s customary for them to attend the return of the last expedition before graduation.

Very few, as usual, are doing anything but paying attention, but three watch on raptly enough to make up for the rest. It’s easy to tell which ones saw Maria fall.

The bold stare on one of them unnerves you. Running away from Titans isn’t the same as slaying them, and even then…

The split-second the blond one catches your eye, you turn your head forward, feeling nothing but dread.

The rest is a blur until that first spray of hot water pelts your head, but even now you might as well be a ghost. Water beating the floor bounces off your ears, the saddle once beneath you now only an echo of an ache on your thighs and backside. Distantly, your entire body stings, sorest of all your hands. Even where you stand, scrubbing mud and grime and clotted blood still clinging to your hair, you waver on your feet.

On the way back, Alina died. Eaten. It’s hard to believe she was on your squad so long ago when even yesterday feels like an eternity ago.

She was always clumsy, you muse, hating yourself. The last time you saw her personally was Mayfest last year. Who was she with? What did you talk about?

You search for meaning in the meaningless. It was as simple as scanning the composite list of casualties two days ago, and catching her name. A life, a memory, a name—blinked out of existence, just like that. There’s nothing you could’ve done.

“Those goddamn Scouts. It’s like they want to die.”

Abruptly, a sob bubbles up in your chest. It’s dry, silent weeping at first, but then tears. Then more, and more, and you’re blubbering in the shower, the ache on the inside intertwining with the physical. Your head pounds.

You don’t register it when the water begins to bleed cold. With your bare legs folded against your chest, you sit against the wall dry-heaving because you’re out of tears to cry. More than Alina, it’s a pain that’s hard to explain.

You’re so tired of saying goodbye; the friends you’ve grieved, whose families you’ve had to give your condolences to, usually, if not always accompanied by either Hange or Levi. Your heart is a bottomless graveyard. You couldn’t possibly spare enough tears for each of them, but your heart is stubborn enough to try.

Levi finds you this way after he knocks on the door, hearing the water, but not you. You’re not quite there to comprehend his voice, nor his warning that he’s coming in—not until he appears in the open curtain, parted just slightly. Suddenly, you’re far too aware of everything.

“I’m sorry,” you hear yourself rasp. “I wasn’t thinking, wasted water, sorry.”

He tugs it a little wider. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he tells you gently.

The wooden mechanism cries as it’s shut off, followed by the drip-drip-drip, then the quiet, which is somehow deafening. You notice his cravat is gone, and he’s already peeled his jacket, boots, and waistskirt off, but other than that he’s still in uniform; it’s hard to imagine his shirt ever once being pressed and white.

Another apology sits on your tongue—eventually Levi was always going to come scrub the filth of the past two weeks off him—but you keep it to yourself, as he said.

“Can I come in?”

“Please,” you whisper.

He does, and crouches down heavily. A fluffy towel is draped over your shoulders.

“I’m still disgusting,” he warns, “but do you want help getting up?”

“Please,” you say again.

He rolls up his filthy sleeves, then helps you rise to your feet. Now that you don’t have to keep it together anymore, it all comes crumbling down. Even Levi isn’t impervious to it.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”

On the lid of the toilet you wring the towel through your hair. He does the rest, thoroughly, which reminds you that you have little idea how you’d cope without him.

He leaves you for only a moment to retrieve a fresh change of clothes for you, and it’s only with the stiff way he drops them on the counter that you start to worry it’s more than post-expedition fatigue.

Your jaw tightens. “Are you hurt?”

Either you’ve both been through enough, or he’s too tired to argue. “It’s not bad.”

First of all, he needs to clean up. You’ll get dressed, and he’ll join you soon.

You relent, unsurprised when “soon” turns into a half-hour. Levi’s brief, combat-style showers are unthinkable just after an expedition. It’s no wonder why, but this time you have reason to worry.

Too sick to even think of eating, you chip away at the paperwork at his desk—numbers to add, death certificates, field reports, numbers to subtract—while you wait. He must’ve spoken with Erwin. You wonder what they talked about; not even Erwin is immune to everything, no matter how his own mask portrays him to be.

While you work, you think of nothing, but at the same time, everything. Every second, every sound, every sensation. The snapping of jaws.

You rub your temples and rationalize that if Levi is injured that badly, he would have no choice but to see a medic, but never without some push and shove. Even if he was bleeding out he would claim it was a waste of resources.

After listening like a hawk for the water to shut off for an eternity, it finally does. In short sleeves and baggy pants, you meet him in front of the bathroom door, him staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real.

“We still have shit to do,” he states blandly.

You ignore him and ask, “Where are you hurt?” as you lead him by the small of his back in the direction of the bedroom.

It takes a little push and shove for him to relent, as always. He mentions something about a mother hen and a little bruising and more words that, at their root, mean, It’s not bad, up until you ask him to show you, and he hesitates.

“Levi.” Sat on the foot of the bed beside him, you remain firm. “I’m not asking anymore.”

“...It’s unnecessary.”

“To you.”

He scowls at you weakly. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“...To you.”

He straightens up when he hears your voice shake, then winces a little. “It’s—It’s not. I wanted to see if tightening my belts would make me more accurate, and it did. They’ll be gone by next time.”

You could scream. “You idiot. You run yourself into the ground already—what’s hurting yourself gonna do?” Your next breath shudders. “You’re too important, and not just to me.”

“It saved more lives,” he argues stubbornly. “Don’t you get sick of watching your comrades die?”

You stop, hanging onto your last breath, and hang your head a little. You’d think after so many years seeing death everywhere you look, you’d be used to it by now, but this was an old friend.

“Who doesn’t?” you remark, staring at a crack in the floorboard. “But you’re not just someone’s comrade, and you know that. You’re being careless.”

“…You lost someone, didn’t you?”

It’s less of a question, more of an observation. Calmly, he takes your twitching hand in his own to rub the aches out of them—always from the ODM triggers—careful to avoid bandaged spots.

With a shake of your head, you tug on his knee to encourage him to face you. “Let me see.”

He shuffles towards you, but he doesn’t look happy about it. “You were crying.”

“I cry at everything,” you dismiss easily, guiding his chin towards you. Though his frown is weighted by stones, waiting to see what you have to say, his cheeks are soft cradled in your hands.

Reverently, you lean in and press a fragile kiss to his forehead. “Levi, love of my life, this is stupid,” you tell him as lovingly as possible. “Even if I wasn’t here to worry about you, you can’t do this. All you can do is all you can do, and even then… I’ve seen you do more than anyone.” Always. “I’d feel a lot better if you showed me. There’s solutions to bruises.”

He melts—a little at first, then like butter in a hot skillet. “...Fine.”

With a little help, he stiffly pulls his shirt over his head. Forcefully, you put on a mask of careful indifference. You know how guilty he feels every time something like this happens as a result of good-intentioned, but self-sacrificing actions.

Bruising, as he said. Where his harness once was—four corners stretching both under his arms and over both shoulders—there’s bruising. Bruises criss-cross in an X shape following down his lower back, which disappears under his trousers. His chest is no different: a mess of purplish-bluish-black stretches across his stocky chest, follows down his midsection, and disappears in a V shape below his waist.

You again resist an urge, this time to shake him. You’re willing to bet more circle around his upper thighs, that they wind down his legs, and dig into the bottoms of his feet.

You stand abruptly to dig through the bathroom for lotion and first-aid, but not without petting his head first so he knows there’s no more anger waiting to be spewed. “Stay here.”

He nods.

You’re more worried than even disappointed anymore. If it’s as you suspect and there’s no exception to where his ODM was strapped on, then the only places he was spared are his arms, his lower legs, and (of course) from the neck up.

That’s it, no more work tonight. You’ll strap him down if you have to.

Back in the bedroom, he did as you said, but with the favor of dressing down to just his briefs, which makes you feel a little lighter. There are bruises on his thighs. His clothes are neatly folded by his side.

He straightens up just as you climb onto the bed behind him and uncap the bottle. “I met with Erwin earlier. There’s death certificates to take care of. Letters too, after you’re done.”

“It’ll be a little cold at first.”

Then cold, cold cream lands on his shoulders, which you immediately begin to lather. You dig your fingertips in just a little, and he knuckles the bedspread, fighting a groan.

“Look, I heard what you said, but we shouldn’t keep those families waiting.”

“You look. If Erwin knew about this—” you pop your head over his shoulder and gesture down, “—he’d tell you to do the same thing I’m doing now. Say, hypothetically, he somehow found out…”

He’s not impressed by your threat of blackmail, but doesn’t argue. Erwin is a bigger force to be reckoned with. Levi could get put off-duty, or worse, lectured.

The stuff you’re massaging into his back, right between his shoulderblades, must’ve been expensive: it’s actually thick, actually consistent, and actually doing something. Eventually, the cold fades into an icy sort of burn that’s so powerful he feels his muscles physically loosen.

He had no idea just how tightly he was wound until you start kneading your palms in—not too hard, mindful of the bruises themselves—and he has to fight his eyes on shutting, then his mind on dozing.

This and that can wait until tomorrow, you keep saying. You keep rebuking him, and he starts to have real trouble arguing now that you’re almost through with the muscles on his lower back. It has to be the worst there, because it’s never been so hard to resist showing how much he’s enjoying this.

“Your hands—”

“—feel good?”

“No,” he huffs. “Your injuries—”

“Oh? They don’t? Should I go harder?”

He knows what you’re doing. Maybe it’s better he just suffers the consequences of his actions. His thighs throb dully.

Breathing hard, he finally manages, “What if I can’t sleep?”

“For once I doubt that,” you retort, sounding very pleased with yourself.

Fuck you for always reading him so well. He shudders a breath as you get through with his hips, and says nothing.

Now you round his other side and kneel down, looking almost scarily determined. There really is no changing your mind, let alone stopping you.

Strange. When he actually lets go a little, he feels less stressed. Nothing exists except for your magic hands and the focused little frown on your face as you work, and the sounds are your breaths and his much heavier ones.

So he doesn’t fall asleep, he watches your face as you move over his pecs. His middle isn’t as bad, so he can focus to talk, and explain.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that recruitment is in the ground—ah—has been for years now, and our living-to-dead ratio per expedition isn’t great, either.”

You click your tongue as you settle between his legs. “It’s better than before Erwin came up with the long-range formation.”

Not that he’s wrong.

The lotion is terribly slippery in your hands, shaded a very diluted yellow that makes his skin almost shine when you rub it into his twitching belly muscles. It’s obvious how well it’s working—not that you plan to tell him how expensive it was—but you also notice, with unease, the way it makes the violent bruising brighter and somehow angrier than before.

He grunts in disagreement, though you aren’t wrong. While Shadis was Commander—and before that, he’s told—a great deal of what the Scouts used to do outside the Walls was group up in squads, ride together, and recover as much territory as they could, until they could no longer.

Thing is, Titan country is never short on Titans, which frustrates Levi to no end.

As far as they know (as far as Hange’s figured out, rather), the way they breed is a complete mystery. Where they come from, why, and for what horrific reason they like to eat people has been a mystery since history became history.

He thinks, dejectedly, that the most compelling piece of data they’ve collected since he joined up was that notebook a Scout named Ilse Langnar was found clutching. His and Hange’s squads recovered her from the depths of a hollowed-out tree a Titan had stuck her in. It spoke to her, called her by a different name, even.

Now that he thinks about it, forget data: all they reaped from that day was a heap of more questions.

“I spoke to Erwin about a fortnight ago before we left,” you’re saying. You’ve skipped past his thighs for now, and sit cross-legged on the floor massaging the bottom of his foot, which is propped up on your knee.

He practically punctures the bedspread from clutching so hard in order to resist twitching, flinching, and especially launching into a fit of laughter.

“What—” He moans under his breath,“—What was it. What’d you talk about?”

You’re forced to pin his ankle down so he doesn’t twitch away from you. So ticklish. He’s lucky he’s cute.

“We—”

Levi squirms.

“Captain Levi, you better sit still.”

He huffs petulantly. “Fuck you. It’s your fault. Deal with it.”

“Is it really?” You dart your thumbs on his most ticklish area just to rile him up. You hear a gasp, then only a hint of a raspy chuckle before he nearly kicks you in the face—accidentally, of course.

Maybe it isn’t your fault. He’s willing to agree with anything you say if it’ll get him to sleep sooner.

His bruises pang dully, an amazing improvement from before. A profound heaviness drags him further and further into a warm nothingness. You make it very easy.

You decided to be generous and massaged his calves anyway. Up you go now. Almost done.

You return to what you were saying before. Erwin briefly confided in you and Mike over drinks when the discussion of future expeditions came up about two weeks ago; sealing Shiganshina bled heavily into that conversation.

Levi’s right that they don’t have enough bodies. The Survey Corps has always been an unpopular regiment for obvious reasons, and what’s worse, there’s no doubt numbers would be even less by the time you made it to the gates.

Even if you all traveled during nightfall, you’d have nothing to seal the gates themselves with. Stone is too heavy for the horses; Hange claims Titans aren’t tricked by tarp, nor canvas, nor wool, and even if they thought up a solution, there’s a good chance most of who’s left would die on the return home—if anyone is left.

You’re in a bad way, to be very vague and very blithe.

Levi grunts. You’re molding your fingertips with each side of his knees now, a fresh dollop of lotion making him shiver.

“Those Abnormal idiots haven’t been seen in almost five years.” He groans. “Fuck, not so hard.”

You ease up, flex your smarting fingers, and wait until he goes boneless again. After what he just said, you almost want to knock on wood.

“Yeah, but that’s no reason to get comfortable.”

His hands planted back behind him are all that’s keeping him upright now. “Obviously. I’m just taking account of our shitty situation.”

“I know, angel.”

His eyes are closed. “Erwin will figure something out. He always does, is. His brain never stops working. Probably doesn’t sleep, that bastard.”

You chitter a little, amused. “You don’t sleep.”

“Yeah.”

You don’t think he’s listening. “Why don’t you lay back?”

He peels his eyes open. “With this slime all over me?”

“I’m not asking,” you tell him again. You will strap him down if it comes to that.

With a little effort, he manages until his head is on the pillows. The bruises on his back throb a little, but the good pain wins over the bad until he floats at the very edge of a pleasant, dull sleep. The next thing he knows, you’re back between his legs, massaging more lotion into one of his heavy thighs.

He shades his eyes with his arm and ignores the fact that he’s somehow half-hard. After the past two weeks, how is that even possible?

“Almost done,” you sigh softly, sounding pleased.

All this attention generously given to him when you never addressed who you lost out there earlier. You never snap at him, and after what he said, that’s how he knew.

He wishes it was more rare that he found you in such a state upon coming back. Part of him too is still out there, fighting, so much so that the sight of you standing after he showered stunned him for a moment.

What can be done about those things? Nothing. There’s no fixed solution, no light at the end of the tunnel guaranteed, but there’s always something he can do as far as you’re concerned.

Whatever that thing is that makes him fearless, and somehow completely safe, and happy, but also scared—he can at least share that with you. Let it consume you both. He knows there’s a name for it, but he doesn’t want to name it, not right now.

His pensive eyes are on you as you finish up. Watching you so candidly leaves him feeling excruciatingly sappy even when all the grief forces him to feel nothing.

He gets like that after every expedition. Tomorrow, without fail, he’ll be on a cleaning frenzy (he’s been antsy; two weeks gives dust plenty of opportunity to collect), and you’ll likely be forging his signature so there’s less work for you both to do later. His name looks better in your handwriting, anyway.

HQ will be somber, quiet, in mourning. Unlike Shadis, Erwin mandates a day off after each expedition. In the worst of cases, two.

Much later—or not, time has blurred together—he instinctively rolls over to you and lays his head down on your chest. He’s wearing pants again.

Then, he sees the light dim down behind his eyelids, and remembers himself a little. “Your fingers.”

“Bad, but not that bad,” you murmur, combing his hair backwards. “I cleaned up while you were asleep.”

Overwhelmed, his jaw moves a little uselessly. “That’s not fair.”

“Tomorrow,” you assure him, but he insists on asking, just in case, about whoever you lost. The pain on your face earlier was palpable.

“No, I’m happy right now,” you sigh wetly. “It made me feel better to, to make you feel better. So please.”

He uses the very last of his energy to lean up and kiss you somewhere—he thinks your jaw.

“Fine.” He’s whispering this. “But that goes both ways. Tomorrow let me—”

“Always.” You kiss his hair. "I will."

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