𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘; SCARLETT , she/her , british (tho i've been an expat all my life lmao)
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𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 ; I don’t tolerate any kinda of hate, disrespect, Islamophobia, racism, misogyny, zionism, xenophobia, or homophobia on my blog. You will be immediately blocked if you engage in those behaviors.
superheaven lover , white gold jewelery , dogs/cat lover , manga/comic/books lover , #1 procrastinator , eren jaeger's situationship , jean kirstein's fwb , leon kennedy's dso partner , zuko's firelady , neuvillette's wife , mark grayson's gf , bruce wayne's side piece
fandoms/tvshows/movies i love ;
(not what i write for, its in request guidelines)
dcu , avatar (JC ver) , RE , got/hotd , tlou , twd , invincible , voltron , castlevania , ff15, lis , fnaf(games/lore) , alta , she-ra , spirited away , young justice , howls moving castle , flipped , fall guy , tatbilb , the conjuring , the hills have eyes , wrong turn , vikings , lost , gossip girl , haikyuu , kny , genshin impact, aot
music artists i love ;
the marias , ty dolla $ign , lorde , chris brown , adrianne lenker , superheaven , radiohead , a$ap rocky , rihanna , ariana grande , the neighbourhood , tame impala , tyler the creator , chase atlantic , jhene aiko
currently listening to ; 2 seconds , jhene aiko
currently watching ; yellowstone s2
currently playing ; resident evil 4 remake (seperate ways) , genshin impact
REQUESTS; OPEN!! - before requesting make sure you've read my guidelines
⊹ synopsis: eren is aching to find his freedom. however, his actions will turn to hurt him and the person he cares about the most.
⊹ a/n: this work takes place in the attack on titan universe. you'll have to understand the storyline to get certain elements of this fic, any inaccuracy to the actual manga / anime happened to keep the story going.
Eren has changed.
It didn't happen overnight, but rather by the courses of multiple events that resulted in a bigger problem than anyone might have imagined.
You met him while training in military camp, the vengeful young boy who only cared about erasing titans from your world.
You and Eren loved each other. Finding a safe space where you could escape the world for a little, just to soke in the fantasy of freedom. Dreaming about seeing the ocean, breaking the walls, building a family even.
However, that all changed after discovering the truth of Eldians. Eren started to drift. It was slow, but you noticed. And it didn't take long for his best friends to do as well. You tried to ignore it, assuming time and space will heal the pain from the ugly truth.
Oh, how you were mistaken.
You could see the agony he was going through from his ocean teal eyes. Waking up beside him those days was the worst. Knowing you can't fix whatever he was going through took its hold on you. And day by day it got worse, the pain he felt started to form into hatred. Ugly, strong, red hatred.
And here you are a year later, standing before his cell.
He averted his gaze while sitting on the bed shoved into the right wall, ashamed of his actions. Even after acting like a stranger to all his old friends and caregivers, he can’t do that to you. Not the girl he was once so deeply in love with.
You wait for him to break the silence. Praying that he wouldn't look in your eye with the same detached look he gave his friends earlier.
“What are you doing here?” He asks, still not looking into your eyes. You sigh before unlocking his door with the key you snatched from the officer on duty. You get into his cell, laying your back against the door you just unlocked. “To talk.” You whisper, almost forgetting how to speak to him.
“I don’t have anything to say. Please leave.”
“I'm not leaving until you give me answers.” You sound broken, fragile even. Eren isn’t listening to you anymore though, dismissing you with a shake of his head.
“I loved you, Eren. Wasn't that enough?” You try again, looking for any sign that he's even listening to you.
He used to adore hearing you say that word. Love. A simple four-letter word that keeps people going forward. A word that you two used to exchange on a daily basis in secret. A word that your foolish heart thought might bring him back to you.
When you were sure he wasn't replying anytime soon. You left the cell, glancing one final time at his form curled on the bed before locking the door.
Back in your own bed now, you can't help but mourn the old Eren and all the memories you two once shared.
You woke up with a startle, hearing boots running outside your door and the loud distress of the soldiers. Throwing your jacket and boots on, you run to see the cause for all this.
Eren escaped. Merely hours after you visited his cell.
It's been a week since Eren escaped. You’re getting through the days with barley with any sleep. Dark circles decorate your under eye, matching most of the soldiers around you.
You are hunted by nightmares.
Every. Single. Night.
Ones of Eren leaving you behind again, of Eren looking at you with the eyes of a stranger rather than the boy you fell in love with. You would wake up with damp lashes and the feeling of dread in your chest. Leaving you no choice but to start your day earlier than everyone else.
That's until someone stirs you awake before the nightmares start.
“Floch?” Your eyes focus on the red haired boy in front of you, illuminated by the moonlight.
“Wake up, someone needs to see you. And don't you dare make a sound.” He then proceeds to yank your arm and lead you to meet the mysterious someone. “Wait by the that table.” He lets go of your arm roughly, causing you to stumble.
Your head is all over the space, your lack of sleep causing you to question his behavior too late.
The door to the room Floch left you in opened timidly, revealing the mysterious presence. You can’t say you’re surprised, it’s like a part of you knew he’s the one finally unveiling himself to you.
“Took you a while, Eren.” You stare directly at him. He looks different, sharper, calculated. As if he's trying to assess the situation just like you are.
“Take a seat.” He motions with his head towards the two seats at the table. Wordlessly, you do as he said. Needing to hear everything that comes out of his mouth.
“I came to take you with me.” He didn't waste any time with greetings. You had many questions. Like where? Why? Do you still think of me as much as I do?
But the only thing that came out of your mouth it a firm “No.”
Eren facial expressions stayed the same, making you feel insignificant. “You’re a traitor, Eren. I’m not going anywhere with you.” you feel your heart break as those words come out of your mouth. All you wanted to do is reach over and embrace the only boy you’ve ever loved, but you had to stay strong. If not for your sake, then for your friends and family.
He stood up then, as if ready to just leave you again.
“That's it? You're leaving?” Eren finally peeked into your eyes then, and you wish you could see the boy you once knew in them, instead it’s the man people whisper about, afraid he will hear them even from the safety of their own home.
“I can't let you hold me back. I'm finding my freedom.” He made his way to the door. “You were my freedom. Why wasn’t I enough for you?” You almost screamed the words while tears flowed from your eyes.
Trying to find good AOT or JJK fics is so hard nowadays. Everything is just smut. Like every fic i just saw under “armin x reader” is smut. It’s not that big of a deal, but it’s lwk annoying when all ppl write about now is smut. Like what happened to plots, angst, storylines, yearning, etc. im usually not the type to complain but omg. I wish ppl would see aot and jjk as more than just smut.
And can we talk about how there’s smut for yuji, who (if i remember correctly) is a minor?
daeron wants to introduce you to someone. daeron targaryen/fem!reader
When you first arrived to Oldtown as a ward of the Hightower household, you never expected to become friends with the prince. You always saw him so shy, immersed in his duties or surrounded by the young ladies of the court, that you never thought he would ever notice you.
But he did.
It was one day when you stood before the withered weirwood in the godswood when the prince approached and stood beside you, not close enough for your arms to touch, but close enough for the sweet floral scents Daeron used for his baths and grooming to fill your nostrils.
The conversation was brief; introductions, the prince asking about your impressions of Oldtown and how your stay was going. Something very trivial, but it allowed your first interaction to blossom into a friendship.
Your meetings became more frequent. Daeron even made time from his duties to seek you out and spend time with you in the godswood, lying on a blanket spread on the grass, or reading in the fortress's vast libraries. In those brief encounters, your eyes always met his, even if only for a short time, and your stomach fluttered whenever it happened. It was as if thousands of butterflies fluttered inside you, rising to your chest and making your heart race.
One day Daeron appeared, saying he wanted to introduce you to someone. “This is someone very special to me,” the young prince said as he led you through the fortress corridors to the parade ground. You pressed your lips into a thin line and made a resentful face, not quite knowing why.
A small carriage led you out of the inner sanctum and headed toward the grounds adjacent to the Starry Sept. When the carriage stopped, Daeron was the first to rise and step out as the driver opened the door. He turned to face you, extending a hand in a gesture of assistance to help you down.
You slowly placed your hand on his, and his fingers enveloped it while, with your other hand, you gathered the hem of your dress to avoid tripping. Daeron didn't let go of your hand as you stepped down the last wooden step, gently pulling you along as you began walking, keeping you behind him the whole time. The ground beneath your feet trembled, you frowned, and when you looked up again, your heart sank.
Tessarion's imposing figure stood before you. His blue scales and orange horns gleamed in the sunlight. You squeezed Daeron's hand a little tighter, hiding behind his body as if it were a shield. "A dragon would never burn its rider alive," you thought.
Daeron whispered a few words to you in High Valyrian that you didn't understand as he approached the dragon with one hand outstretched and you pressed against his back.
"Be calm, my girl, I just want you to meet someone," the prince said to the dragon, who, with curious eyes, glanced at her rider's back.
Daeron's hand rested on Tessarion's muzzle, and she exhaled a warm breath through her nostrils, caressing both their faces.
"Come." Daeron gently pulled your hand away from behind him, drawing your hands together toward the dragon's head.
You hesitated, carefully stepping back and looking at Daeron fearfully, gently shaking your head. The prince nodded, as if to say, “I’m here, nothing will happen to you.” The hand that had been holding yours moved to your waist, and the one resting on Tessarion’s snout replaced the one that had been holding yours, guiding it back toward the dragon.
The touch of your palm on the dragon scales felt rough and hot. Your thumb rubbed a few times, a smile escaping your lips at the sensation. You couldn't tell if you were smiling from relief at not having been burned by the dragon or from the incredible experience of being able to pet a dragon.
You glanced up at Daeron and realized he was already looking at you. You also noticed the arm around your waist and that his hand hadn't left yours for a moment. You looked back at Tessarion, blushing completely.
"She's beautiful," you said, referring to the dragon.
"Yes, she is," he said. But you couldn't tell if he meant you or Tessarion. Nor did you have the courage to look up at him again to find out.
rune speaking: i just love my shy prince and his protective dragon
ᛝ levi pretends he hates physical affection but will stand closer than necessary so your shoulders touch. if you try to move away,, he follows anyways
ᛝ he will remember all the tiny details about you - your favorite tea ,, which side you sleep on,, etc - if you point it out he will deny it
ᛝ levi’s love language is acts of service. he’ll fix your gear,, clean your blades, adjusts your uniform straps - its his way of showing he cares for you
ᛝ levi is the type to walk on the outside of the street and subtly move you away from danger without announcing it
ᛝ when you’re worried,, he’ll ground you by handing you something to hold- his cloak, a cup, his sleeve.
ᛝ when he gets jealous he becomes very controlled,, such as shorter answers, sharper tone or standing closer to you than needed
ᛝ levi lets you see him when he’s exhausted. he trusts you enough to be tired around you,, knowing you won’t judge him
ᛝ he’s soft with kids and animals,, but if you catch him being gentle he’ll pretend it never happened
ᛝ if you get hurt, he’s shockingly calm but his hands shake just a little when he checks you over
ᛝ when your venting he actually listens —doesn’t interrupt or minimize. he wants to make sure you feel validated
ᛝ he lets you see his scars,, its another way he shows trust. he doesn’t explain them unless you ask,, but he doesn’t hide them from you either
ᛝ levi doesn’t really know how to flirt,, but he’ll try, “wow, you look so - ravishing.. ?” he’s so lost..
ᛝ he loves your presence so deeply that when you’re gone, he feels off-balance - when your gone, he waits for you.
☆ making out with levi gets him a little more hot and bothered than he wants to admit. and he will not admit it.
☾ this was requested by anonymous!
☆ cw: making out, nothing crazy
☾ a/n: i got high last night just for u anon just to write this <3
levi has your back pressed against the shelves before the door even fully closes. the dustiness of the closet doesn’t matter to him because his mouth is on yours again, quick and hungry. his hand braces beside your head, fingers gripping the wood, while the other holds your waist.
he kisses you like he argues with others, determined to stay in command, and then you tilt your head and kiss him back harder, and he nearly falls apart. damn you, he thinks, feeling the heat climb all the way to his ears.
you pull back to look at him. his face is unmistakably flushed, a bright red spread across his cheeks. his lips are swollen, his pupils wide.
“you look a little off, captain.”
“i look fine,” he argues.
you smile wickedly. “fine? then why are you blushing like that?” you poke his cheek.
“s-shut up.”
he hates that you can do this to him. he hates that one teasing look from you can leave him feeling lightheaded and hot all over. he hates, more than anything, that he wants more of it.
you lean in until your lips nearly touch his again. “make me.”
levi stares at you, then kisses you again with a frustrated sound in his throat, all pent-up embarrassment and want. he’s trying to hard to seem unaffected. it would be convincing if he weren’t practically shaking.
you slide your fingers into his hair, and the reaction is immediate. he inhales sharply against your mouth, then presses closer. oh for fuck’s sake, he thinks. you can definitely tell. he knows you can, and he feels like an idiot.
when you kiss the corner of his mouth, then trail lower to his jaw, he nearly loses what remains of his dignity. “you’re cute like this,” you say.
levi makes a strangled noise that might have passed for a scoff if it wasn’t so out of breath. “cute?”
“mhm.” you press your lips to his, smiling against them when he follows you the moment you start to pull away. “flustered. all clingy and red like a damn tomato.”
“i am not clingy.” he says it while holding your waist with both hands now. he drops his forehead to yours for a moment, trying to collect himself though the effort is pointless. his breath fans warm across your lips. his eyes stay half-lidded, dazed but filled with want.
“this is your fault,” he mutters. “you keep provoking me.”
you brush your nose against his. “and you keep kissing me back.”
levi has no retort. he only stares at you, red to the tips of his ears, and then his expression shifts. “tch. then stop talking.”
he doesn’t bother trying to hide it anymore. he’ll own his flushed face anytime if it means getting to be this close to you.
asking situationship!levi ackerman to eat you out after being severely injured ˚.✦
You’re both on the cot now (narrow, barely meant for one, let alone two) but Levi doesn’t complain when you shift closer. He just lifts his arm so you can tuck yourself against his side, head on his chest, one leg thrown over his thigh like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
His heartbeat is steady under your ear. Stronger than it was last night. His fingers trace idle patterns along your spine over the bandage on your shoulder blade, careful not to press too hard. He’s still in his shirt and trousers; you’re in a borrowed undershirt and the bandages he re-wrapped earlier.
You’ve been quiet for a while. Just breathing together. Then you tilt your head up, lips brushing the underside of his jaw.
“Levi.”
“Hm.”
You slide your hand under his shirt, palm flat against the warm skin of his stomach. He tenses, just a fraction, then relaxes again.
You keep your voice soft. Almost casual.
“If I asked you to…” You pause, let your fingers drift lower, tracing the sharp line of his hip. “…eat me out. Would you?”
Levi goes completely still.
You feel it: the sudden hitch in his breathing, the way his hand freezes mid-stroke on your back, the faint heat that floods his neck and ears even in the dim light. His eyes snap to yours, startled, like you just suggested he strip naked in the mess hall and sing to the Squad.
For a long second he doesn’t speak. Just stares. Then:
“What the fuck did you just say?”
His voice is scandalized in a way you’ve never heard from him. Not angry. Not disgusted. Just… utterly thrown. Like his brain short-circuited and rebooted in the wrong language.
You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.
“You heard me.”
He blinks once. Twice. His mouth opens, closes. Opens again.
“You—” He exhales sharply through his nose, drags a hand down his face. “You’re lying there with cracked ribs and half your body looking like it lost a fight with an Abnormal, and your first thought is...”
He gestures vaguely between your legs, then immediately regrets it and drops his hand like it burned him.
“That?”
You shrug one shoulder, the uninjured one. “Not my first thought. Just… a thought.”
He makes a sound somewhere between a scoff and a strangled noise. His ears are bright red now. You’ve seen him covered in blood, seen him kill without blinking, seen him clean an entire kitchen at three in the morning. You have never seen him this flustered.
“You’re impossible,” he mutters. But there’s no bite in it. Just disbelief. And maybe, buried under layers of composure cracking, a flicker of something hotter.
You shift closer, let your thigh slide higher against his. His breath catches again.
“I’m serious,” you say quietly. “If you wanted to. If you ever wanted to.”
He swallows. Hard. Looks anywhere but your face for a second before forcing his gaze back.
“I’m not—” He stops. Starts over. “That’s not… I don’t just—”
He cuts himself off, jaw tight. You can practically hear the gears grinding in his head: propriety, control, the fact that he’s Levi fucking Ackerman and people don’t talk to him like this. Let alone ask him to...
He exhales again, longer this time. Rubs the back of his neck.
“You’re still hurt,” he says finally. Like that’s the most important objection. “You can barely move without wincing.”
“I’d lie still,” you offer. “You’d do all the work.”
His eyes darken at that, pupils blowing just enough to notice. But he still looks scandalized. Almost comically so.
“You—” He points a finger at you. “You have no shame.”
“None,” you agree, smiling now.
He stares at you like he’s trying to decide whether to bolt from the room or pin you to the cot and prove a point. His hand flexes against your hip then settles there, thumb brushing slow circles through the fabric of your borrowed shirt.
“I’m not saying no,” he mutters at last. Barely audible. “I’m saying… not tonight. Not when you’re still bleeding through bandages.”
You nod. Fair.
“But you’re thinking about it.”
He glares. It’s half-hearted.
“Shut up.”
You laugh, ignoring the pain on your ribs, and press your face back into the crook of his neck. He smells like the perfect mix of smoke and mint.
His arm comes around you tighter. Protective and possessive at the same time.
After a minute, so quiet you almost miss it:
“…Maybe when you’re healed.”
You feel the words more than hear them, vibrated against your skin.
You smile against his throat. “I’ll hold you to that.”
the quietness of an arranged marriage with sasuke uchiha ꒰ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
the exact moment of your life when everything changed
cw: hurt/comfort, they're still teens, loneliness, signs of depression, non-sexual intimacy, happy ending, wc: 5.2k
You knew Sasuke was a quiet boy, since you were kids you remember him being too focused on his training for being so young. You could understand him having strict parents who expected too much of a twelve year old boy, but while everyone was playing, skipping or even just sitting on the ground reading, he was working on his forms and techniques.
Now, five years later, your parents just delivered the news to you. Not only you’re marrying that same quiet boy, but it’s going to be immediate and you two are moving together to an estate all by yourselves.
Why? Was the first thing that came to your head, but it was obvious: two potential clans uniting in marriage could help to evade any future problems. Thankfully, none of your parents were expecting an heir from you and him, you were kids still and the thought itself made your toes curl in fear.
The days after that talk with your parents stretched out heavily. You wandered through your family home, touching things you had known your whole life, wondering how long it would be before everything felt distant.
Sasuke. The name sat in your chest, you had watched him from afar for years, that dark haired boy who moved like the world owed him nothing but silence. He never joined the games or the easy laughter. He just trained, eyes sharp, body always pushing harder than anyone else. It made you feel small sometimes, your own childish joys were pointless next to whatever fire burned in him.
Now you were supposed to marry him. Live with him. Share a house and a life with someone whose voice you could count on one hand. The thought twisted something deep inside you, a mix of fear and fluttering curiosity that would not leave you alone. What did he think when he heard the news? Did his face stay blank the way it always did? Did his hands clench at his sides or did he simply nod, accepting his fate?
The wedding day arrived too fast. Your parents dressed you in a simple white kimono that clung to your skin in all the wrong ways, the fabric stiff and unfamiliar. They pinned flowers in your hair while you stood there quiet, heart hammering so loud you were sure everyone could hear it. No grand event, a small shrine and the necessary words to bind two clans together. You did not see Sasuke until the moment you stepped into the hall.
You walked toward him slowly, eyes fixed on the floor at first because looking up felt too real. When you finally lifted your gaze, there he was. Sasuke stood straight and still in his dark formal clothes, hair falling across his forehead the same way it always had. His expression gave nothing away. Those dark eyes watching you approach from a distance. It made your stomach drop. Was he angry? Relieved? Did he even see you as a person or just another duty?
The priest spoke the words and you repeated them with a voice that sounded too small even to your own ears. Sasuke said his part when it was time, each syllable precise but empty of warmth. You searched his face the whole time, desperate for something, anything, but he remained closed off. That silence wrapped around you like a second skin. It pressed on your chest, made your hands tremble as you exchanged the small cups of sake.
After the ceremony came the quiet ride to the estate. The carriage moved through the trees and you sat across from him, knees touching in the small space. You wanted to say something to break the heavy air between you. Maybe ask if he was okay with this. Maybe tell him you were scared too. But the words stuck in your throat.
Sasuke stared out the window most of the time, jaw set, one hand resting on his knee. Every so often his eyes would shift toward you, before going back to the passing scenery. It left you guessing, heart racing with questions that had no answers. Did he resent you for this arrangement? Did a tiny part of him feel the same nervous pull you did?
The estate was beautiful, large rooms with polished floors and sliding doors that let in soft light. Servants showed you both around quickly and then left you alone, the heavy front gate closing behind them with a final sound that echoed in your bones. Now it was just the two of you. You stood in the main room, fingers twisting in the sleeves of your kimono, watching as Sasuke walked to the window and looked out at the garden without a word.
The quiet stretched. You cleared your throat softly. “This... this is a lot, isn’t it?”
Your voice came out barely above a whisper. He did not turn around right away. When he did, his eyes met yours for a second that felt endless. He gave a small nod. “You can keep this room, I’ll stay next door.”
“Oh,” you said, even though you knew it was the best decision. There was no reason for you to stay in the same room, you weren’t going to do anything, but somehow it felt like a rejection.
Sasuke didn’t say anything back, he crossed the room and locked himself in the room in front of yours, not even taking his luggage with him.
That first night was hard. You barely sleep, your body tensing with the need to cry but nothing felt worthy enough for crying. You were seventeen, married to a boy who felt like a stranger, and the weight of his silence pressed on you more than any loud argument ever could. In the dark you reached out and touched the empty side of the futon, imagining what it might feel like if he ever let you in.
The first month dragged on, mornings started the same way every day. You would wake up in the large futon, the space beside you cold and untouched and stare at the ceiling for hours. Sasuke was gone before the sun rose most times, slipping out for training, missions or whatever kept him away from the estate. You rarely heard him leave. He moved quietly and efficiently, leaving no trace except the faint sound of the door sliding shut.
When you did catch glimpses of him, it hurt more than his absence. You would step into the kitchen for water and find him there, standing by the counter with a cup in hand. Your heart would jump, a stupid little spark of hope lighting up inside your chest. Maybe today he would look at you. But his dark eyes would flick over you for half a second, then slide away. He would finish whatever he was doing and walk past you, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of sweat and metal from his training.
That silence carved into you deeper each time. You started staying in your room more and more, the thought of walking through the empty halls made your stomach twist. What was the point? The estate was beautiful, with its wide gardens and soft light filtering through the paper screens, but it all felt like a cage now. You stopped going outside. The flowers blooming in the courtyard might as well have been gray. Everything felt tedious, heavy, even lifting your arms to brush your hair took too much effort. Meals sat cold on the tray the servants left by your door. You picked at them without tasting anything, then pushed the food away.
Loneliness settled over you, suffocating and familiar all at once. At night you lay there listening to the quiet house, wondering where Sasuke was. In his room, sharpening blades. Or maybe he was staring out at the moon, thinking about you. You replayed every small moment from your childhood in your head, trying to find some sign that he had noticed you back then. But there was nothing. He had always been focused on his own world, training until his hands bled.
You felt yourself fading. The girl who used to sneak glances at him during training, who laughed with her friends and dreamed about silly things, she was slipping away. You barely recognized the face in the mirror anymore. Your eyes looked dull, your hair hung limp because brushing it felt pointless. You stopped changing out of your sleep clothes some days. Why bother? No one was there to see you. Sasuke did not care. Your parents were far away, busy with their alliances and their plans. It was just you and the crushing weight of his indifference.
One afternoon you forced yourself to the main room, hoping maybe he would be there. You found him instead by the window again, back turned to you as he cleaned his kunai. Your throat tightened. You wanted to scream at him, to ask why he never spoke, why he acted like you did not exist.
The words burned on your tongue but stayed trapped there. What if he confirmed it? What if he said out loud that this marriage meant nothing to him? The fear of that answer kept you frozen. So you stood there in the doorway, watching the way his shoulders moved, the sharp line of his jaw and felt a familiar ache bloom in your chest. A mix of longing and resentment with warmth that refused to die no matter how much his silence hurt.
You retreated back to your room without a word. Curled up on the futon, you pressed your face into the pillow and let the tears come quietly. They soaked the fabric but made no sound, the last thing you wanted was him to hear you. Not that he would come check anyway. The days blurred together after that. You lost track of time, sleeping during the day and lying awake at night, replaying the wedding ceremony in your mind.
You felt lost, everything you used to enjoy felt distant now. Reading made your eyes hurt and thinking about the future filled you with dread. You were seventeen, married to a boy who was a stranger, living in a beautiful prison where the loudest thing was the silence between you. And through it all, Sasuke remained unknowable. You never knew what he was thinking behind those dark eyes.
The night air felt cooler than usual, you had slipped out to the porch hours ago, unable to stay curled up in your room any longer. The walls had started closing in again, pressing down with all the emptiness of the past month. So you sat there on the wooden edge, knees drawn up to your chest, the thin fabric of your sleep robe clinging to your skin. Tears came without warning, spilling over as the weight of everything crashed down.
You did not hear him approach, Sasuke moved too quietly for that. But suddenly there was a presence behind you, a shift in the air that made the hairs on your neck stand up. You kept your head down, refusing to look. Let him see. Let him walk away like always.
“What are you doing out here?”
You did not answer, instead you wiped at your cheeks roughly, staring out at the dark garden where fireflies flickered. Ignoring him felt like the only power you had left in this house. He had ignored you for weeks, now it was your turn, even if it made your chest ache worse.
Sasuke lingered there, you could feel his gaze on your back. “It’s late,” he said finally. Always so damn quiet. “You should go inside.”
That was it? After all the days of nothing, that was what he chose to say? Something inside you twisted, you turned your head just enough to glance at him over your shoulder. He stood a few feet away, arms crossed loosely, his expression gave away nothing.
You looked away again, hugging your knees tighter. “Why do you care?” Your voice came out softer than you meant.
He did not respond right away. You heard him shift his weight, the faint rustle of his clothes. When he spoke again, it was even lower. “You’re my wife.”
“It does not feel like it.” You still wouldn’t face him fully
You could sense him processing your words, but who knew what was really going on behind those dark eyes? Did he feel guilty? Annoyed that you were forcing this conversation? Or did it mean nothing to him, just another inconvenience in his focused life?
“I did not ask for this either,” he said after a long pause. His tone stayed flat, but there was something underneath it. Or maybe you were imagining it because you needed to believe he felt something.
You swallowed hard, fresh tears burning your eyes. “Why do you act like I do not exist? I sit in that room every day wondering if you hate me for this arrangement, or if you just... do not care enough to even look at me.” Your voice cracked on the last part, but you kept it quiet. “I feel like I am disappearing, Sasuke.”
He took another step closer now. You could see his hand at his side, fingers flexing once before stilling. “I train. I have duties. That has not changed.”
“You think I do not know that?” You finally turned to face him, eyes red and swollen, cheeks wet. “You always trained as a kid, I admired it back then. But now I cry out here alone because the quiet in this house is too loud, and you finally show up just to ask what I am doing? Like it is some inconvenience.”
Sasuke’s jaw tightened just a fraction, his eyes met yours for a longer moment than usual, holding secrets you could not read. “What do you want me to say?” he asked, voice rough. “That this is easy? That I know how to do this? I do not.”
The admission hung between you, it was not much, but it was more than he had given in weeks. Yet it was not enough. Not when the loneliness had already carved so deep. You wanted to reach out, to touch his arm or demand he look at you properly, but the fear of him pulling away kept your hands still.
“I want you to see me,” you whispered, turning back toward the garden. "That’s all.”
But then his voice came, low and raw in a way you had never heard before. It cracked just a little at the edges. “I see you. And I see someone who deserves more than this. I see someone whose life I’ve ruined.”
The words caught you unexpectedly, your breath caught and for a moment the whole world narrowed to the need and sudden desperation of his voice. He thought he had ruined you. Your mind spun with it all, the ache in his tone mixing with the loneliness that had been eating at you for weeks. You wanted to turn around, to look at his face and try to understand what that meant to him, but you could not. Your eyes burned fresh with tears and your throat closed up tight. Speechless. Completely speechless. The weight of what he admitted pressed down so hard that you could not even form a reply.
Instead you pushed yourself up on shaky legs, not glancing back at him. You walked away from the porch, feet moving almost on their own through the sliding doors and down the hall to your room. The floorboards creaked softly under you but you barely noticed. All you could hear was his voice repeating in your head. He saw you, he thought he had ruined your life.
What did that even mean coming from someone like Sasuke, who never showed his thoughts? You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, sliding down until you were sitting on the floor with your face in your hands.
You stayed in your room for the next week and he stayed away too. It was like both of you were ghosts haunting the same house but never crossing paths. Sleep came in broken pieces, filled with dreams of his dark eyes watching you from a distance. During the day you sat by your window sometimes, staring at the garden without really seeing it.
The loneliness had not gone away. He made everything more confusing. He saw you as someone ruined by this marriage, by him. Did that mean he cared enough to feel bad? You never knew with Sasuke. His silence had always done that to you, leaving you to fill in the blanks with your own tangled emotions.
Then one night, close to midnight, a soft knock sounded on your door. You sat up in the futon, heart suddenly racing. No one knocked at this hour. You stayed quiet at first, unsure, but the knock came again, gentle but there. Slowly you got up and padded over, sliding the door open just a crack.
Sasuke was there. On his knees.
He knelt right in the doorway, head slightly bowed, dark hair falling forward to hide most of his expression. His shoulders were tense, hands resting on his thighs, the sight of him like that, the proud and quiet Sasuke on his knees in front of your room, made something inside your chest crack wide open.
He did not look up right away. Your mind raced with questions. He was so close, yet still so unknowable.
“I…” He stayed on his knees, not moving to stand. You watched the subtle rise and fall of his shoulders, wondering what thoughts were hidden behind those lowered eyes. After all the days of nothing, this gesture felt huge and terrifying at the same time.
Now here he was, kneeling as if waiting for judgment. And you still did not know what he was truly thinking, only that his silence had shaped every feeling you carried for him since you were kids. The quiet boy who trained alone had grown into this man who could break your heart with a few raw words and a single gesture in the dark.
For a long moment nothing happened. The silence stretched between you again, the same heavy quiet that had defined every day of this marriage. Then his shoulders started to tremble.
Just a slight shake that you almost missed in the dim light. But then his breathing hitched and when he finally lifted his head to look at you, his dark eyes were glassy with tears. He was crying. Right there on his knees in your doorway, tears slipping down his cheeks one after another. His jaw clenched hard like he was fighting it, but it only made the tears fall faster. His hands fisted on his thighs, knuckles white and a broken sound escaped his throat.
“I... I’m sorry,” he whispered. The words came out messy, stumbling over each other after he had held them in for too long. “Forgive me. Please. I ruined everything for you. I’ve seen it every day in how you hide away, in the way you look at me like I’m already gone.”
He kept going, the tears streaming freely now, cutting tracks down his face. His usual mask had shattered completely. Sasuke looked like a complete mess, shoulders hunched forward, dark hair sticking to his wet cheeks. He did not wipe the tears away.
“I never wanted this for you. You were always there. I saw you when we were younger sometimes, reading under the trees while I trained. I noticed. But I did not know how to... I still do not know how. This marriage, this house, it trapped you with someone who only knows how to push people away.”
Your heart pounded so hard it echoed in your ears. All those nights you had cried alone, wondering if he even thought about you. All the times he had walked past without a word. And now here he was, falling apart in front of you. His silence had always left you guessing, and even in this moment part of you wondered if this was guilt talking. But the tears on his face looked honest. Painfully so.
“I want to take care of you,” he continued,voice rough with emotion. “If you’ll let me. I don’t deserve it. I know I don’t. But every day I have stayed away because I thought it would be better for you. I was wrong, I see that now. You deserve more than an empty house and a husband who hides. Let me try. Please.”
He bowed his head again after that, forehead nearly touching the floor in front of your feet. His back shook with silent sobs that he tried to hold back, but they slipped through anyway. The sight of it made fresh tears burn in your own eyes. You wanted to reach out and touch his hair, to pull him up and tell him it was okay. But your legs felt weak and your throat was too tight. Part of you still ached from all the days he had ignored you, from feeling like you were disappearing in this beautiful prison. Another part felt a rush of warmth at his words, at the way he had finally cracked open even a little. You had spent so long wondering what was in his head. Now some of it was spilling out and it left you speechless all over again.
“Come inside,” you whispered finally.
You stepped back and slid the door open wider. Sasuke lifted his head slowly, eyes red and glistening, searching your face like he was afraid you might change your mind. He rose to his feet on unsteady legs and followed you into the room. The door closed softly behind him with a sound that sealed the two of you in this small space filled with all the loneliness and confusion of the past month.
Both of you were still dressed in your day clothes. Yours were rumpled from hiding away, his carried the faint scent of the night air and training. You moved first, hesitant but sure, reaching for the ties of his outer robe. Your fingers trembled a little as you loosened them, helping him shrug it off his shoulders. He did not stop you. Sasuke just stood there, letting you peel away the layers with careful hands. It was intimate in a way that made your cheeks warm, it felt like tending to something wounded. You didn’t say anything about his bruises or scars.
He returned the favor after a moment, his calloused fingers working gently at the sash of your robe. His touch was light, scared to break you further. You helped each other in silence, folding the clothes neatly and setting them aside. Underneath you both wore simple sleeping garments, nothing fancy, the soft fabric that made the moment feel even more real. Skin brushed skin accidentally, a shoulder here, a wrist there, sending small shivers through you each time. You kept your eyes mostly down, focusing on the task, but every so often you caught glimpses of his face. The tear tracks on his cheeks, the way his jaw stayed tight like he was still holding back. You wondered what was going through his mind right then.
Once you were both changed, you turned to him fully. Sasuke looked smaller somehow in the light of the room, his eyes still wet and raw. You picked up a clean cloth from the side table, stepping close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him. Gently, so gently, you pressed it to his face and dried his tears. His breath hitched when the cloth touched his cheek, but he stayed still, letting you wipe away the evidence of his breakdown. Up close like this, you could see every detail: the faint redness around his eyes, how his lashes were clumped together, the exhaustion etched into his features. It made your own eyes sting again.
“There,” you whispered, voice soft as you set the cloth aside. Your hand lingered near his face for a second before dropping. “Lay down with me.”
You took his hand, surprised at how warm his fingers felt against yours, and guided him toward the futon. He followed without resistance, the two of you settling down side by side on the bedding.
You turned on your side to face him, pulling the blanket over both of you. Sasuke lay on his back at first, staring up at the ceiling, but then he shifted too, mirroring you. His dark eyes met yours, still guarded but softer than before. You could not read him completely. You never could.
“Tell me," you said quietly, not demanding but needing it. “Talk to me, Sasuke. About anything. I need to hear you.”
Your hand rested on the space between you, close enough that he could take it if he wanted. The intimacy of changing together still hummed under your skin, not passionate but real and tender.
He stayed quiet for a long moment, this time it felt like he was gathering words instead of hiding behind them. His fingers brushed yours lightly, almost by accident, and you held your breath waiting to see what he would say next.
“I stayed away because it was easier,” he said, each word took effort. “I thought if I kept my distance you could have the house to yourself. Pretend I was not here ruining your days. I never wanted a wife. Not like this. Not when we are both still so young.”
You swallowed hard, the loneliness from the past month rising up again but softer now. “It didn’t feel like distance. It felt like I didn’t exist to you.”
Sasuke’s brow furrowed slightly. He shifted a little closer under the blanket, his knee brushing yours accidentally.
“I noticed you back then,” he admitted quietly. “You looked free in a way I never was. This marriage took that from you. I hate it. I hate that our clans decided this for us and I couldn’t stop it.”
You could tell it was hard for him to say them out loud.
“I never blamed you for the arrangement,” you whispered back. “But the silence broke me, Sasuke. I kept wondering if you even saw me as a person and not just another duty.”
He reached out then and his fingers wrapped around yours properly. “I saw you. Every day. I just didn’t know how to show it without making things worse. I’m not good at this. But I want to try for you. I meant what I said. I want to take care of you. If you’ll let me start over, even just a little.”
You squeezed his hand, feeling some of the heavy weight in your chest loosen, you knew his quiet nature would not vanish overnight. But hearing him say it, seeing the way his eyes stayed on yours instead of sliding away, it felt like the first real breath you had taken in weeks.
“I want that too,” you told him. “I don’t need you to be loud or different. Be here sometimes. Eat with me. Talk to me even if it’s only a few words. Let me see the boy who trained so hard instead of the ghost who lives in this house.”
Sasuke nodded slowly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I can do that. Tomorrow I will not leave before you wake. We can walk in the garden if you want. Or just sit. Whatever you need.”
You moved a little closer without thinking, resting your forehead against his shoulder. He tensed for half a second, but then he relaxed and let his free arm come around you loosely. It was awkward and careful, two kids still figuring out how to be married, but it was something.
“I’ll forgive you,” you whispered against his shirt. “But you have to forgive yourself too. We are both stuck in this,we don’t have to be alone in it.”
He didn’t answer with words right away, he just held you a bit tighter. He whispered something so low that even you weren’t able to catch it.
Sleep came easier than it had in weeks, wrapped in the warmth of his presence. Sasuke stayed right there beside you, his hand still linked with yours. It was not perfect. Nothing with Sasuke ever would be simple. But it was a start, and that little bit of healing felt like everything after so many days of fading away. In the morning you would see what happened next, but for now you let yourself believe that maybe the quiet boy you had watched for years could learn to share his silence with you.
His fingers traced lazy circles on your back through the thin fabric of your sleep clothes, a small gesture that still surprised you sometimes. Sasuke had always been so quiet, so contained, but these past few months he had been trying. Little by little. He ate breakfast with you now, sitting across the table even when words didn’t come easily. He walked with you in the garden some evenings, pointing out a bird or a blooming flower with just a few short sentences that meant more because they came from him.
“What did you do today?” he asked softly, his arm heavy around your waist and his chin resting on the top of your head.
“Not much, went to buy some groceries for dinner. It’s been a while since I haven't cooked,” you purred, your breath tickling his neck.
Sasuke hummed quietly. “I’ll help you. Later.”
You smiled softly and shifted closer, your leg sliding over his as you tangled together even more. Your hand came up to rest on his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart under your palm.
“Did you train hard?” You drew little patterns in his chest waiting for his answer, he just held you tightly, wanted to melt into you.
“Very,” he muttered, closing his eyes and inhaling your sweet scent.
You pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his neck, feeling the way his body relaxed even more against yours. These moments had become your favorite, when the weight of the day melted away and it was just the two of you sharing the same space without any walls left between you.
Sasuke lowered himself so he could be at eye level with you, you always get lost in his dark and big eyes, with that shine they have when they look at you.
“You’re beautiful,” Sasuke whispered, one of his hands coming to your cheek, he was trying hard not to blush. “What did I do to deserve you?”
You smiled, leaning into his touch. “I don’t want someone else, Sasuke. I love how you look at me,” you told him quietly. “Like I am something worth protecting.”
“You are,” he answered simply, kissing the tip of your nose before finding your lips.
His quiet nature still wrapped around everything, but it no longer pushed you away. In the warmth of the bed, with his body curled around yours and his kisses growing sweeter with every passing minute, you felt truly married to him. Not just on paper, but in the tender ways that mattered most.
a/n: it's been a while since i don't sit myself to write a long-ish fic. i'm very very happy about how this turned out
getting drunk with tsunade and jiraiya ends up with them arguing between your legs ꒰ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
cw: mdni, threesome, oral sex, age gap, power imbalance, dubcon (they all drunk af), you lowk pass out from pleasure
Drinking with them felt wrong. Oh, but they invited you! Still, it felt like an intrusion. Lady Tsunade and Jiraiya were really close, you could tell from the way they talked to each other, how they knew what the other preferred… They practically know everything about each other and that made you feel like an outsider even if they insisted that you weren’t.
And if that wasn’t enough, they were older than you, enough to make some people uncomfortable. They were your superiors too, Tsunade at least, you never really knew what Jiraiya is about. But, gosh, Tsunade was the Hokage, and you were staring at her tits! She had her arm looped around your shoulders, hand threatening to go lower as she sipped on her glass of straight alcohol.
You tried to play it cool, taking another sip of your own drink to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks. The sake was hitting harder now, warming everything from your belly outward. Jiraiya leaned in from your other side, his big shoulder bumping yours on purpose. His white hair was a little messy from running his hand through it, and that signature grin of his looked way too knowing.
“So, kid,” he drawled, “ are you always this shy when the drinks start flowing? Or is it just us making you nervous?” His hand landed on your knee, giving it a squeeze that lingered a second too long.
Tsunade laughed, she was definitely drunker than you, her cheeks pink and her eyes half-lidded as she pressed closer. Her massive chest brushed against your arm, soft and warm even through her top.
“Leave her alone, pervert. Can’t you see she’s enjoying the view?” Then, without missing a beat, she tilted her head and let her gaze drop right to your chest. “Though I gotta say, those tits of yours look fantastic. Perky and full. Bet they feel even better.”
Heat shot straight through you. You swallowed hard, but the words came out before you could stop them. “That’s a nice compliment coming from you, Lady Tsunade. Yours are... legendary.”
Jiraiya barked out a laugh, scooting even nearer until his thigh was flush against yours. “Hah! Hear that, Tsunade? The girl’s got good taste.”
His fingers traced lazy circles on your knee, inching higher up your leg. Tsunade’s hand finally slipped lower, resting just above your hip, her thumb stroking the side of your waist. You felt very hot, your panties getting wetter from all the attention.
“You know,” Tsunade whispered, her breath warm against your ear, “I like how you look all pretty between us.” She nipped at your earlobe lightly, making you shiver. “Bet you've got all kinds of secrets under that outfit. Care to share with your Hokage?”
“L-Lady Tsunade…”
Jiraiya’s hand moved bolder now, sliding up your thigh as he leaned in to whisper on your other side. “We can show you a really good time, y’know. We’re not feeling very professional tonight." His fingers brushed the inside of your leg, so close it made your breath catch.
Tsunade’s arm tightened around you, pulling you against her curves while Jiraiya’s touch kept exploring higher.
Jiraiya laughed, shoving his shoulder against hers as he tried to nudge her out of the way. His hand slid up your other thigh, fingers brushing teasingly close to your entrance but not quite touching. “Like hell, Tsunade. I’ve been dreaming about burying my face in a sweet pussy like this for years.”
“Why would I care about that?” She says, shoving her shoulder back against his.
They kept arguing right there between your legs, their hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, making you squirm and leak even more. Tsunade pushed Jiraiya’s face back with her palm, leaning down so close her lips almost brushed your clit. “She’s mine first, she won’t need your dick after I’m done with her.”
“No one’s talking about dicks, Tsunade.” He rolls his eyes dramatically. “I’m gonna suck on that puffy clit until she’s begging for more.”
“More of me, obviously,” she adds right away.
You could barely think straight, your body throbbing with need while they bickered like competitive idiots, both so eager to be the first one to taste you. Their hands kept roaming over your naked body, squeezing your tits and stroking your hips as they fought for position. It was so hot watching them argue over who got to eat your wet pussy first.
But you were getting tired and needy.
“Enough already!” you snapped, voice coming out sharper and a little angry from all the frustration. You pushed up on your elbows, glaring down at both of them between your spread legs. “Just eat me out at the same time, gosh! Stop fighting and do it together before I lose my mind!”
Tsunade and Jiraiya both paused, then grinned, you just gave them the best idea ever. “Greedy girl,” Jiraiya chuckled.
Tsunade dove in first, her warm tongue dragging flat and rough right up your soaked slit, licking up all your juices while Jiraiya attacked from the side, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth hard. The feeling hit you like lightning, two mouths on your pussy at once.. Tsunade pushed her tongue deep inside you, fucking you with it in messy strokes while Jiraiya flicked and sucked on your clit.
You cried out, hips bucking wildly, but they held you down. Tsunade’s strong hands gripped your thighs, spreading you even wider as she ate you out sloppily, moaning into your pussy like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. Jiraiya was rougher than you expected, his beard scratching your sensitive skin while he sucked harder, occasionally letting his tongue join hers to lap at your entrance together.
It was too much. Way too good. Their tongues slid against each other and against your folds, wet sounds filling the room as they devoured you. Pleasure crashed through you in huge waves, making your legs shake uncontrollably. You regretted it almost immediately.
“Wait— oh fuck, it’s too much!” you gasped, but they didn’t slow down.
Tsunade growled against your pussy and shoved her tongue deeper, curling it just right while Jiraiya sucked your clit faster, one of his fingers pushing inside you alongside her tongue. The stretch, the heat, the way they worked together had you screaming. Your orgasm hit so hard your vision went blurry, but they kept going, licking and sucking through it until you were thrashing and sobbing from the overstimulation.
Another climax ripped through you right after, even stronger. Your whole body tensed up, pussy clenching around their tongues as they kept eating you out like they were starving. It felt so insanely good it almost hurt. Your mind went blank, pleasure overloading everything.
The last thing you remembered was Tsunade moaning something dirty while Jiraiya sucked your clit one more time. Then everything faded to black as you passed out from the overwhelming bliss, body twitching helplessly on the sheets.
It took him a few moments to catch up, missing the cute sounds of your moans.
“Hey, kid—” Jiraiya lifted his gaze, seeing your eyes closed and your mouth half-opened. “Shit, Tsunade, did we kill her?”
She was already kneeling beside you, shaking your shoulders a little for you to gain your consciousness back. “Don’t be dramatic, asshole. She just passed out from pleasure.”
He forms an ‘o’ with his mouth, nodding along Tsunade’s words. “So we are that good.”
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ — FRATBOY EREN YEAGER (and his obsession with fucking his girlfriend)
(18+) BLURB! ✩‧₊˚ frat!eren x fem!reader, college au, smut, dom!eren, praise, oral (fem!recieving), dirty talk, mating press position
you and eren, your very loving boyfriend, had been fucking for at least two hours now on and off. it started when you and him agreed to watch a movie together. some rom-com that neither of you were particularly interested in, but it was something to do together.
only twenty minutes into the movie eren started feeling you up. his large hands rested against your thigh under the blanket, long fingers reaching towards your inner thighs to squeeze. "wanna feel you," he mumbled, leaning over and planting a kiss on your neck.
eventually, with no objection from you, his face was buried in between your legs. he licked long stripes up your cunt, savoring the sweet sounds that came from your lips. he went slow at first, tongue circling your clit then taking it into his mouth to suck, shaking his head so it vibrated against you.
your hands tangled in his hair, pulling at the long brown strands to keep him right where you wanted him. "mhm yeah baby?" he said with a chuckle, pressing a firm kiss to your clit. "you want more? want me to make you feel good?"
"yes, eren please," you moaned.
eren dove back in this time with more action, practically making out with your cunt. the room filled with hot squelches and whines spilling from your lips, your legs pressing against the sides of his face. he didn't stop until you were so wet you were leaking down onto the couch cushions, a big sticky patch staining it.
he kept you pressed against the couch until you were weeping, his arms wrapping around your legs to keep you from squirming. "too much, eren," you whined, legs shaking against his hands. "mhm can't take it."
"too much?" eren asked, pressing sweet kisses to your hole. "but i haven't even used this —" he pressed his tongue inside of it, listening to you gasp. "you gonna let me use you, baby?"
you could barely speak, giving him a nod.
a sharp smack! hit your outer thigh.
"need to hear you say it," eren said, pulling his head away. "c'mon be a good girl and say it."
"yes yes, eren please use me!"
which is how you ended up here, your legs raised so high that they were up against eren's shoulders, his long torso pushing them so they were almost pressed against your face. your ankles kissed his ears like headphones.
eren was pounding into you mercilessly, your legs shaking so hard you could barely control yourself. your whole body was enveloped by him, his hair shielding your vision from looking anywhere but him.
"i can't —" you said in a small voice, hands pushing his shoulders.
eren only laughed. "why are you telling me you can't take it? don't tell me that."
"t-too big!"
he pushed your legs more towards your face, practically folding you in half. "yes you can, yes you can," he said over and over again, hips plopping against your ass making a suctioning sound. the hard ridges of his cock scraped your warm walls, pussy clenching around it, sucking him in deeper. in this position he was impossibly deep, the leaking tip of his dick kissing your cervix, making you see stars.
plop! plop! plop!
tears fell down your face, which only made him smirk, breathing hard. "you gonna cum again?" he teased. "mhm i can feel it, you're sucking me in, baby."
you moaned loudly, pussy spasming as you reached your next orgasm, practically screaming at the sensitivity. eren's hand clamped down on your mouth, stifling your moans by the palm of his hand.
"christ, gonna wake up the whole house," he chided. "is that what you want? for them to all hear how you're taking my dick? kinda rude, baby. don't want them thinking my girlfriend's such a slut."
you couldn't speak anymore, reduced to just broken moans and whimpers. your legs were out of your control completely, shaking violently. eren wouldn't let up, thrusting in and out with a punishing pace.
"you got one more, don't you? gonna keep going until you're creaming."
☆ Summary: Levi Ackerman is careful with his words and impossible to catch off guard with his feelings—unless, apparently, he’s asleep.
☆ Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Gender Neutral Reader
☆ Genre/Tags: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Love Confession, Soft Levi Ackerman, Levi Ackerman is Bad At Feelings, Domestic Fluff
☆ Word Count: 1.4k
☆ AO3 Link
☆ Check out the other fics in this collection!
☆ a/n: Day 4 out of 7 for my birthday week celebration!
For the first time since you knew him, Levi falls asleep before you. Which would be less surprising if he hadn’t spent the last twenty minutes insisting that he isn’t tired.
He sits beside you on the bed in his quarters with a stack of papers balanced against one knee. He intends to win the war against his exhaustion, but his eyes keep lowering, his grip on the papers keep loosening, and every few seconds, his head dips just enough for him to jerk it upright again with a faint scowl.
“You should sleep, you know,” you say, watching the candlelight flicker across his face.
“I’m fine,” he mutters.
You’re not even surprised he’s not listening. Levi could be bleeding through his clothes and actively collapsing into a ditch, and he would still look at you dead in the eye and call it a scratch. You hum, unconvinced, but you know better than to argue with him directly when he’s already decided to be impossible. You lie back against the pillows instead and let the silence do the talking, filled only by the faint rustle of paper when he reads another line.
Two minutes later, Levi lies back against the pillow next to you, reports still in hand.
One minute after that, the report slides from his fingers.
And then, finally, he sleeps.
He always looks different when he sleeps. Awake, he’s hard and controlled, every muscle held tight as if bracing for impact every second of the day, his expression tightened before it can reveal too much. Asleep, though, he looks much younger, almost fragile. You know he would hate you thinking that. His mouth is relaxed from its usual tight line.
You reach carefully for the papers, meaning to set them aside before they get bent, but before you can touch them, Levi grabs your wrist. It’s a soft, sleep-heavy grab. His fingers wrap around you, and you freeze, your breath caught in your throat. Before you can decide whether to pull away or stay still, he tugs you closer with an irritated sound.
“Levi?” you whisper, more amused than concerned, but he doesn’t wake up. He only shifts until his forehead brushes against your shoulder, his hand sliding from your wrist to your waist. Even now, he reaches for you.
Then he murmurs, barely audible against your shirt, “Love you.”
You freeze. All goes quiet, except for the sparking flame of the candle and the creaking of the old wood around you, but all of it seems too far away from you right now as those two simple words land somewhere deep in your gut.
You stare down at him, stunned. Levi Ackerman, who is never tender, who is never affectionate nor vulnerable, has just said he loves you. Waiting for the one moment he’s too exhausted to guard the door.
“Oh,” you breathe, and you smile before you can stop it. “You’re ridiculous.”
He gives no answer and only wraps his arm further around you by the smallest amount. Carefully, you lower yourself beside him, pulling the blanket over both of you while he makes another soft, sleepy sound and follows your body without waking. Your hand hovers for a second over his hair before you give in and brush a few dark strands away from his face.
“Love you too,” you whisper, so quietly that you think only you can hear it. “But I’m absolutely making fun of you tomorrow.”
.
By morning, Levi has returned to himself.
He’s awake before you, dressed except for the cravat still hanging loose around his neck, standing near the small table with tea already poured and the blanket folded at the foot of the bed. He looks completely normal. He definitely does not remember what happened last night, and if he does, he’s very good at pretending it never happened.
Unfortunately for him, you have a good memory, and you are absolutely not letting this one go.
“You’re staring,” he says without looking at you.
“You’re sweet when you’re asleep,” you say.
That makes him pause, a tiny hesitation in the movement of his hand as he reaches for his cup, but you see it, because you’re looking out for any minute detail that might let you in on what he’s thinking and possibly hiding. Your smile widens. Levi looks at you from the corner of his eye.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asks.
You sit up slowly, pulling the blanket around your shoulders as you smile again. “Nothing.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Well,” you say, drawing out the word just enough to make him narrow his eyes in suspicion, “you were very affectionate last night.”
His mouth flattens. “When?”
“After you fell asleep.”
He scoffs. “I was asleep.”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“Oh, it counts,” you laugh, nodding, absolutely convinced.
He turns toward you fully now, the tea forgotten in his hand. You watch the first sign of worry pass across his face as memory fails him completely. “What did I do?”
You rest your chin in your palm, taking your sweet time because Levi looks like he’s trying to brace for impact while pretending he’s completely calm, which is, frankly, adorable.
“You reached for me,” you say, and his eye twitches. “Pulled me closer.” He clenches his jaw. “Mumbled into my shoulder.” He flicks his eyes away. “And told me you loved me.”
For a second, Levi doesn’t move at all. Then the tips of his ears go red. Not possibly-red-if-you-squint. Red. A betraying flush creeps up from beneath his collar and spreads across his cheekbones before he turns toward the table, suddenly fascinated by the existence of his teacup.
“I didn’t,” he mumbles.
“You did,” you argue.
“I don’t talk in my sleep.”
“Apparently you do when you’re being romantic.”
“I wasn’t being romantic. I was unconscious.”
“I don’t know, you sounded pretty convincing.”
Levi makes a strangled sound under his breath, caught between a scoff and a curse. If you had any decency, you would stop there; but the sight of him stiff with embarrassment, ears burning while he tries to rebuild his dignity, is too precious to waste.
“You also grabbed my waist,” you add.
“I was asleep,” he repeats.
“You seemed very determined.”
“I said I was fucking asleep.”
“You were very cute.”
His gaze snaps back to you, horrified. “Don’t call me that.”
“Cute?”
“Don’t.”
“Sweet.” His blush deepens. “Oh, you like that one, huh?”
Levi sets his cup down with enough care that suggests he’s either seconds away from leaving the room or burying his face in his hands with the intent to never rise. You soften your teasing—you don’t want to go too far.
“Levi,” you say, gentler now.
He doesn’t look at you immediately, but when he finally does, his expression is once again guarded. But it’s not cold, not with you. Beneath the scowl he wears is an almost wounded shyness. The thought of having been heard clearly scares him more than he wants to admit.
“I’m not laughing at you,” you say.
“That is exactly what you’re doing,” he says.
“Okay, maybe a little,” you concede, because lying to him would be pointless. “But not because of that.” His throat works once. You hold his gaze, your heartbeat suddenly too loud in your own ears. “I liked hearing it.”
For a moment, Levi looks trapped between retreat and confession, between pride and the truth his sleeping self already handed over without permission. You can see the thoughts moving behind his eyes, irritated and flustered.
Damn it. Damn it. Of all the stupid ways to say it first, he thinks. He looks away again, but it’s not enough to hide him anymore.
“Wasn’t wrong,” he mutters.
Your heart stumbles. “What wasn’t?” you ask.
He flexes his fingers once at his side. “What I said.”
You know better than to push too hard, but you’re only human, and he’s standing there with red ears and a confession caught between his teeth, so you tilt your head and ask, “You love me?”
Levi glares at the floor. He doesn’t know whether to spill the truth or not, but it seems he already did last night. He says, in a voice low enough to sound almost angry, “I love you.”
The teasing dies inside you. He knows what he’s saying this time. And though his face is still turned half away, though his ears and face are still burning and his shoulders are tense and he feels like he’s wandered into a battlefield without his equipment, he stays there with you.
So, you smile and reach for his hand. He looks at your fingers, hesitates only long enough to prove he’s still Levi, and then lets you take it.
“There,” he mutters. “Happy?”
You lace your fingers through his. “Very.”
“Tch.” His thumb brushes, barely there, across the back of your hand. “Annoying brat.”
You know it’s pointless missing her, there’s no way you can contact her or know what’s happening outside the walls, so everything that’s left for you is yearn and wonder what she’s doing, if she’s having to fight too much, if she sleeps comfortably, if the team isn’t being a burden.
Days blend together in the pharmacy, grinding herbs and measuring powders while your mom chats with customers about the latest rumors from the gates. You smile politely, but your mind is always half elsewhere, picturing Mikasa’s hands gripping those blades and slaying Titans.
It has been almost a month this time, much longer than usual. You tried to stay busy helping the doctor with the soldiers who limped back, cleaning wounds and stitching gashes. Every time the gates opened you found yourself drifting closer, heart hammering even though you knew it was stupid to hope.
Mikasa had chosen her path with Eren and the others, and you had stayed behind like always. Friends since you were kids running through the streets, sharing bread and secrets under the old oak tree. You were never as close to Armin or Eren, which made it easier to feel that quiet anger when she left. Why them? Why risk everything when she could have stayed here, safe with you?
Then one afternoon, you were wiping down the counter when shouts echoed from the main street. Survey Corps return. You dropped the cloth and stepped outside without thinking as people crowded toward the gate. And there she was, sliding down from her mount with graceful strength, but something was off. She moved slower, favoring her left side. Blood stained the edge of her uniform jacket, dark and fresh.
“Mikasa,” you breathed, pushing through the crowd before you could stop yourself.
She turned at the sound of your voice, her dark eyes meeting yours across the chaos. For a second everything else faded. She looked exhausted, strands of black hair sticking to her forehead, but she gave you a small nod that told you everything.
You didn’t wait for permission, you slipped an arm around her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the torn fabric. “You’re hurt. Come with me. Mom’s shop is right there, and I’ve got supplies.”
She didn’t argue, just leaned into you a little as you guided her away from the noise. Her steps were steady but you could tell every one cost her.
Inside the back room of the pharmacy, you cleared the small table where you usually mixed medicines and helped her sit. “Take off the jacket, please,” you said, already pulling out clean cloths and the jar of salve you kept specially mixed for deep cuts. Your hands moved quickly, but your heart was racing. She had been gone for so long. Too long.
Mikasa winced as she shrugged out of the jacket, revealing a nasty gash along her ribs and another slicing across her upper thigh where her pants were ripped. The sight made your stomach twist. You had seen plenty of injuries working with the doctor, but this was her. Your Mikasa. The one who used to braid your hair when you were little and promise she’d always protect you.
“You’re such an idiot for going out there again,” you muttered.
You soaked a cloth in warm water and started cleaning the torso wound first, kneeling close so you could see clearly. Your fingers brushed her skin as you worked, gentle circles around the edges of the cut. She was alive, right here after all those nights you spent staring at the ceiling wondering if she was cold or bleeding somewhere beyond the walls.
“I missed you. Every single day I missed you,” you said without thinking.
She stayed quiet at first, watching you intensely. The tension between you two had been there for years, unspoken words piling up. You loved her in a way that went beyond childhood friendship, sometimes you thought she felt it too in the way her eyes lingered or how she always found you first when she returned. But neither of you ever said it out loud. Not with the world the way it was.
“I’m fine,” she finally said. You saw the way her breath hitched when you pressed the cloth a little too close to the raw skin.
“You’re not fine. Look at this.” Your free hand rested on her knee without thinking, thumb rubbing small circles.
After months of nothing but wondering, you needed to touch her, to make sure she was real. You leaned in closer to apply the salve, your shoulder brushing hers. The scent of her, sweat and blood filled the small space. “What happened out there? No, don’t tell me. Just stay still.”
You moved to the leg wound next, rolling up the torn fabric carefully. Your fingers trembled a little as they traced the edge of the cut, cleaning it thoroughly before spreading the cooling ointment. Her thigh muscle tensed under your touch, you glanced up to find her staring at you, lips slightly parted. You wanted to hug her tight and never let go, to bury your face in her neck and breathe her in until the fear went away. Instead you kept working.
“I thought about you too,” she admitted quietly after a long pause. Her hand came up, resting lightly on your arm as you bandaged the gash. It was such a small touch, but it sent warmth spreading through you. “When things got bad. Your voice... it helped.”
Your eyes stung. You finished tying the bandage and didn’t pull away, wrapping your arms around her middle, careful of the fresh wrap on her ribs, and held on. Clingy didn’t even cover it. You pressed your cheek to her shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing.
“Don’t scare me like that again. I hate not knowing if you’re coming back. I get so angry at Eren sometimes, dragging you into all of it, but mostly I just miss you. So much it hurts right here.” You tapped your chest lightly.
Mikasa’s arms came around you then, strong despite her injuries. She didn’t say much more, but she held you back just as tight, her fingers threading through the ends of your hair.
You pulled back just enough to look at her face, searching her dark eyes. “Stay tonight? At least until the bandages need changing. Mom won’t mind.”
