Levi was a clean freak, you knew it from the start, which was why the way he sucked your fingers was too good to be true. [500 words, fluff turned smut, fem!reader]
On your first date, his courteous kiss on the back of your hand. You thought less than nothing of it, thinking the move to be typical of any new boyfriend. If only you knew how much it really meant coming from the germaphobe. In your mind, he was taking things slow. From his perspective, the opposite. Not everyone got that kiss.
Next were the exhausted nights. Sharing his pristine bed with someone, with you, for the first time - Levi found a new way to sign off on the day: intertwining his fingers with yours, pulling the back of your hand to his lips he now moisturizes, and speaking softly against your skin, “Good night, brat.”
Those calm nights were followed by lazy mornings. Before you moved in, Levi was the type to rise at the crack of dawn, go on a run, take a shower, brew a pot of black coffee, and go go go even on the weekends. However, he has since found a sight even more lovely than the sunrise in the angel that sleeps beside him. Instead of jolting out of bed, he entangles you both in sheets, silently insisting the two of you stay for as long as possible. Asking for his opinion on your this and that, you comb your fingers through his hair and cup his cheek in your palm. Pillow talk over the week’s plans, he wraps his grip around your wrist and kisses your hand warm.
You have changed him in countless ways, and as a consequence, he has surprised you that many more times. Particularly, the first time you slept with him.
Spring is melting into summer, and you always find him this time of year stretched out upon his favorite rock, reveling in nonchalance near the shore in a deep back bend. Droplets on his chest hugging his every curve and evaporating in the sun with delicate hands overhead elegantly on display, patiently awaiting your return too…well, perhaps he’d never admit it to you at least.
As he often reminds you unprovoked, he takes deep pride in his tail as he always keeps it close to his form. Often with a mind of its own, languidly curling up his torso, caressing his sun kissed cheeks and framing his face. His freshly dripping tail shields his eyes from the unforgivable rays as he pretends not to desperately search for you out of the corner of his eyes. Why aren’t they on time?
It’s in this moment in which he must remind himself that he’s Levi, the Prince of Pearls for god’s sake, and you’re just one of…them. So why does his heart swell like the sea when he sees your face emerge from the sand dunes, gently gliding through the reeds like the ocean breeze that has once again coaxed him to the surface? Just like I remembered; they get lovelier by the year. He muses against every natural inclination to flee in your presence. Another season. Another failure to swim far away from the sweetness you bring.
He rises like the tide and deliciously peers over his shoulder at you, gaze like a tempest. Adorned in milky pearls beaming against tar-black hair in falling waves against his forehead, a few ink stained strands tucked behind his ear. His namesake and crown perched upon his head tilted back, throat exposed like a dream. His spritely and playful expression breaks across his features in an instant, washing away his doubt and betraying his bleeding heart kept locked away like a treasure buried deep.
“You’relate,” the words drip heavily from his tongue laced with salt from the waves lapping his rocky throne below.
You can’t help but smirk at his murky little attitude with a fondness that escapes any rational thought, that’s simply against your nature…What a bastard you think He never changes. And you’d have him no other way. Powerful, mischievous, unpredictable…sometimes even soft.
“Oh, Levi,” your doting in jest meant to maim (just enough), “Sweetheart, don’t tell me you actually missed me all this time?”
“I certainly did not.” He breaks his own heart. And even your face drops slightly at the sting.
Why is he like this…The question hangs in both your minds.
“Well, maybe just a little.” He yields still somehow thick with pride.
“That’s much better.” Your smile restored. “Now come down from there, or are you still too self-important to come see what I’ve brought you?”
“I’m not-,” his blush competes with his first sunburn of the year as he let’s out a sigh; his excitement overwhelming his pride, “Your irreverence isn’t very becoming, you know.” He leans forward, slipping into the water, darting through the current and to your feet now wading in the shallows.
The bridge of his nose breaks the surface first, water gliding over his sharp features, revealing his eyes that rival the sea in their color and ferocity. His slender neck and broad shoulders breach and what’s left is his stare, burning right through you.
You spar his intellect to keep the playing field even, but when he’s so close, too close like this? You’re humbly reminded that nature herself designed him to drag you down to the depths with one simple siren song, to kill.
And yet, you stay. Not only that, but you keep coming back to him with the season. And so does he, to you.
For earthly trinkets? For borrowed time? You’ll never know…perhaps maybe this summer you will, if he keeps looking at you this.
Like he never wanted the changing tide to sweep you away, the winter to steal you deep inside for warmth…Like he never wanted you to leave.
The sunlight streaming through the windows of your apartment catches on the staples that hold together his skin and his scars–flesh meeting disfigurement, united by a neat line of medical-grade steel.
“Are you ready yet?” Touya calls out, fingers stilling against the countertop as he waits for your response.
“Five minutes!” your voice calls back from the bedroom, muffled by half an apartment’s worth of distance and a not-quite-closed door.
“You said that fifteen minutes ago,” he mutters only loud enough to be speaking to himself, leaning over to rest his cheek against the cool stone surface of the counter. It’s nice against his cheeks, too hot to be comfortable.
He feels weird. Sick, maybe. There’s a knot in his stomach and his throat. He even feels a little dizzy, which is why he finds himself bent at the waist and resting on the kitchen counter. He peels his eyes open and watches as his fingers twitch where they rest just next to his face.
“Tou have you seen my–are you alright?”
You turn the corner and Touya feels like the whole world stops.
summary— out of the skies and into your quiet corner of the world comes a gang of artists and one engineer, courtesy of your favorite bush pilot, Zeke Yeager. As a rule-abiding park ranger, you get to teach your captive audience that even the best laid plans of marmots and men often go awry… this is usually due to the weather, weed, and Zeke’s little half brother.(FeaturingUntitledEren and Armin)
content & warnings— modern AU, drugs,weed, alcohol, swearing, dubcon (cos smut + drugs), oral sex, smut, condom use, spanking, hair pulling, ass play, exhibitionism, slight degradation, teasing, praise, ‘good girl’ used, reader uses she/her pronouns and has boobs + a vagina
word count—~16,950
note— i figured 420 was a good excuse as any to repost this fic from my former/deleted blog. I originally wrote this for @lacheri’sMoonlight Muse collab. this second edition includes substantial edits and i apologize for the first edition— that was notit.
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