Hey! It's been a while since I updated on here...I'm really sorry about that. I had writers block and kind of shied away from anything fic related.
For those of you waiting on an update for The Hands of Time, it is coming. I'm about 3/4 of the way through the latest chapter and have the last few chapters drafted out.
Once again I apologise for the wait.

This is loosely inspired by a roleplay I had with Selene-Soulwar with a few other inspirations from fanart too. There was this one comic in particular that I found on tumblr but I'm not sure if I can find it...Rivaille and Eren cleaning alone together.
Anyway, I posted on the Levihan tag that I'd do this so I did

funfact: this is my first published solo smut! Whey, I hope I didn't suck too much!

Enjoy~

Rivaille was never good at expressing his emotions in front of others. It wasn't that he didn't want to; even he didn't understand why he was like this. Some days he'd blame it on his social standing – humanity's strongest soldier couldn't be seen showing weakness, could he? Some days it'd be down to trust – only those worthy may see what hides behind that stern expression.

It was for this reason that Rivaille had found his own coping mechanism that didn't involve anyone else; shutting himself in his room and occupying his hands somehow. Hands that would usually grip the handles of blades, the reigns of his horse, or all too frequently, the hands of dying comrades, changed their role. They would hold a pencil and draw the outlines of the landscape presented outside his window – houses, trees, the wall enclosing them. He had once tried writing poetry, yet the words never seemed to flow correctly, regardless of whether he wrote in French or German.

On some days he'd try cleaning, only to be constantly reminded of how lonely he was. There was no Erd to remind to re-align the portraits after they had been dusted. There was no Auruo to mop the kitchen a second time after biting his tongue too hard and getting blood on the floor. There was no Gunter to make good use of his 3D Manoeuver gear whilst cleaning the windows. And there was no Petra to make them all tea (and then wipe up said tea if she spilt any on the stairs). Occasionally, Rivaille would find himself calling out for someone to help him stack the chairs or rearrange the dining hall. There was never a reply.

He had eventually run out of steam and motivation to draw, so instead, he chose to curl up on his bed. There was a light knock at the door before it creaked open, followed by the distinct sound of shuffling feet. The mattress dipped and a hand began to lightly stroke his hair. Silence fell between the two of them as Rivaille tried to figure out who it was. Their touch was too gentle to be Irwin's and their footsteps were too light to be Eren's…
'Hanji?' His voice was scratchy and weak from underuse. He had almost forgotten what his real voice sounded like.
'Hmm?' she replied. Nothing followed. No suggestion of him leaving the room. No comment about how many days it'd been since he last ate. No question about how he was feeling. Just a gentle, soothing hand in his hair.
She knew there was no need for such unnecessary words. They were hardly going to help the situation. She knew, however, that perhaps he needed some company. A reminder that he wasn't completely alone.

A few minutes passed before Rivaille rolled onto his back, peering up at Hanji, taking in her dishevelled look and sad eyes. She was hurting too, that much he could tell. Perhaps up until now she had also found her own distractions – locking herself in the library, reading stories and escaping from this world. Seeking out settings as far from reality as possible. A reality without this intense pain. The escapism would prove to be helpful until Hanji looked up from her book, realisation hitting her like a brick as she remembered that fantastical worlds of dragons, fairies, brave warriors saving princesses from castles and adventurers sailing to new lands across the seven seas only existed in storybooks. Hanji would realise that there was, in fact, no true way to escape the pain of this world other than jumping into the mouth of one of her test subjects. She instead, however, chose to visit her comrade Rivaille, who was probably feeling just as, if not more upset over the deaths of the last mission.

Understanding this was probably why Hanji had finally made an appearance, Rivaille reached up with one hand, finding hers that was resting in his hair, carefully easing it away and tangling their fingers together. She didn't make a sound, giving his hand a tight squeeze in reply.
Silence returned between them for a few moments before the duvet rustled underneath Rivaille's weight as he scooted closer to the wall, tugging Hanji's hand in the process. She didn't bother questioning this, nor did she deny him of his silent request. She shuffled onto the bed before lying down beside him, still keeping a tight grip on his hand.
With no hesitation, Rivaille closed the distance between them, wrapping an arm around Hanji's waist, pressing his nose into the crook of her neck. This sparked a quiet chuckle from her.
'What?' he mumbled.
'It always surprises me how much of a cuddly guy you are,' she replied, giving his hair a fond nuzzle.
'Mm…used to do it with my brother when we were kids. Not enough blankets to keep us warm in the winter.'

Rivaille rarely spoke about his family. No one even knew the situation – were they dead? Were they on good terms with each other? Did Rivaille visit them in secrets as to not trigger questions?
Always in the past tense, Hanji thought to herself. She decided not to press further. If Rivaille wanted to talk about his family, he'd talk.

'That explains a lot,' she replied, letting him shift closer, fingers beginning to trace the outline of her body through her shirt. She soon began to mimic him, searching for tense, sore muscles to rub better. She wasn't surprised to find plenty, particularly around his shoulders.
The absent, lazy touches continued for a few minutes before Rivaille decided to bite the bullet and push Hanji's shirt up, fingertips brushing against her lower back. As he predicted, she didn't protest. In fact, she took that one gesture as permission to take things a little further. She leant down to whisper in his ear. 'Can we be a little selfish?'
He blinked slowly at her words, his reply quickly being cut off by her lips pressing against his own. Did he even need to reply? This was what both of them wanted; warmth and comfort from another human being. Not only that, but someone who understood the pain they both felt.
However…
'This is hardly selfish,' he replied, giving her shoulder a gentle push to move her onto her back. He rested on one elbow, placing a hand on her cheek. 'We need this.'
It was Hanji's turn to delay her reply, wrapping both arms around Rivaille's shoulders and pulling him down for another kiss. They started quick at first, Hanji's fingers once again moving to the black locks, keeping him pressed as close as possible. With time they got deeper and longer, each kiss breaking with enough time for both of them to inhale deeply and give each other a knowing look. A look that read "I'm here," "this is alright," "it'll be better soon," "please don't look so broken," "I'm still here, remember?"
Before long, Rivaille began unbuttoning Hanji's shirt, shifting down to begin sucking and biting at her neck. She sighed softly, helping him rid her of the shirt by sitting up slightly and shrugging it off her shoulders, letting it fall off the bed. She quickly nudged his cheek, urging him to come back up to kiss her again, her movements almost desperate. Desperate for the feel of another human's skin against her own. In turn, Hanji began tugging at Rivaille's shirt, the once gentle touches forgotten as she dragged her nails over his skin, earning a quiet groan from him in response.
Within a few minutes, they had successfully removed every piece of clothing from one another, leaving them carelessly strewn across the room. Hanji had been pulled into Rivaille's lap, her body giving an involuntary shudder every few seconds as he curled his fingers deep inside her. He too would shiver every now and again, one of her hands curled firmly around his length, trying to bring him as much pleasure as possible. Usually, these sorts of exchanges involved Hanji babbling away in an attempt to get Rivaille to do something sudden and pin her down. However, this time around, she was quiet, mumbling nonsense against his shoulder, her moans never becoming more than a quiet whine, even when he started angling his fingers just right. Rivaille on the other hand, would usually keep as quiet as possible in order to avoid being heard by his comrades. Chances were no one else was around, so he had started murmuring encouragements to Hanji, keeping her pressed as close as he could with his free hand resting on her lower back. Her ministrations needn't be too stimulating. The sight of her impaling herself onto his fingers was stimulating enough.
He had learnt to take his time with Hanji during foreplay. It didn't take much for her to get riled up, but always took longer than expected to satisfy her. Rivaille hated hitting his climax knowing he hadn't been able to satisfy her fully. She wouldn't let him get away with it either – often huffing and bringing it up on a later occasion in an attempt to embarrass him. With time he had learnt exactly how to deal with this "problem" of sorts and, no surprise, Hanji often found herself coming back for more.
Hanji nudged Rivaille's cheek gently, pressing a light kiss against it and removed her hand from around his length. 'I-I'm good…you can stop…'
He didn't need to be told twice. Slowly, he pulled his fingers out from inside her, settling both hands at her waist. Hanji shifted further onto his lap, raising her hips with the support of one hand. Being as careful as possible, Rivaille pulled her down onto his length, both of them moaning in unison. Their movements were slow at first, the pair wordlessly trying to match each other. Once settled into a decent pace, Hanji wrapped her arms around his shoulders again, keeping as close as she could whilst keeping up with Rivaille's thrusts, meeting as many of them as she could with constant rolls of her hips. The encouragements started again, Rivaille's voice against her ear making her shiver.
She glanced at his face. His eyes were closed. He was concentrating. Concentrating on the raw feeling between them – the knowledge of being needed by another. The way Hanji was grabbing at him, clawing at his back, giving him quick instructions on how to angle his hips. The way she was there with him, willing to help him through all this pain. He needed her as much as she needed him, and he was extremely aware of it. Both of them were.
Their movements became more frantic as they desperately sought release, whispers of each other's name, quiet moans and soft gasps being exchanged between the two of them. Hanji clung onto Rivaille with all of her faltering strength, body beginning to shake as she neared her climax. He took this cue to give her cheek a slight nudge and capture her lips in a deep kiss. A sharp moan into his mouth followed a few seconds later, the already tight heat around his length intensifying as Hanji rode out her orgasm, never once breaking the kiss. That was enough to drag Rivaille over the edge and he scraped his nails over her lower back, the kiss and their movements soon slowing until they came both came to a stop.
Hanji gave Rivaille a slight grin, pulling him back for another kiss, barely registering the fact he was lowering her down onto the bed until the back of her head made contact with the pillows. He pulled out from inside of her, moving to settle down beside her, readopting the cuddling from earlier on.
'Stay here…' he mumbled against her neck.
Hanji couldn't help but laugh at that. 'If you think I'm going anywhere after that, you're sorely mistaken.'
'Good…good.'

Silence fell once again. It wasn't long before Hanji dozed off into a light sleep, very willing to accommodate the clingy corporal. Rivaille, however, simply removed Hanji's glasses and carefully placed them on the bedside cabinet before starting to watch her sleeping form. His eyes focused on her chest rising and falling. It served as a pleasant reminder that Hanji was still alive and still there with him.
For that blessing, he was eternally grateful.

Thank you for reading! Please feel free to leave any feedback! ^u^