bbg!levi

i wanna eat him :c +18

[fu11ofshit]

Unfortunate // Levi x Reader

cw: ⟡ p in v sex, unprotected sex, back shots, reverse cowgirl, fondling, overstimulation, Levi is a STARVED man, short but sweet !! ₊ ⊹

(Been super busy but I’m back, reqs always open !!)

…

Unfortunately, Levi was an extremely meticulous person. When he wanted things done a certain way, it would have to be done that exact way— no ifs, ands, or buts about it. If something wasn’t just right, you bet your sorry ass you’d be hearing about it immediately. 

His eyebrows would do that thing. Where it’s half way between scrunching together tightly—all furrowed—but slightly twitching like a ticking bomb waiting to explode.

Unfortunately, Levi was also relentlessly precise. He took his time. Calculating, formulating exactly what he’d envision. He retained complete focus on even the smallest details, the ones no one would notice but himself. It made him feel good—like he was in on an inside joke with just himself, and the tiny bookshelf he’d moved just two inches to the left.

Why rush through something and settle for half-decent results when you could truly take your time and savor the outcome?

Unfortunately, Levi applied that same meticulousness to you. Calculating, formulating exactly how he wanted you.

On his bed, in the shower, on the kitchen counters, on his desk — fuck, hewantedtofuckyouagainsthisdesksobad— he’d envisioned it all.

Unfortunately, he’d envision you riding his hard cock from the back, while getting the exact view of you he wanted.

How delicately your pussy would roll over his aching cock, taking in fullness of his length. How tenderly the plump globes of your ass would bounce back against his lower abdomen. How his hand would settle on the small of your back, while the other slightly spreads you open, getting a better view of how deeply you took him.

He’d envision you tightly clenching around him once you were close. Your walls feeling gummy after thrusting into you at an unraveling pace. You, cuming all over his cock, while he’d tenderly pump into you— guiding you through the waves of your climax, until your body shivered from the intensity of it all.

Unfortunately, when Levi had his mind set on something, he made sure it happened—every detail exactly as he wanted, you exactly as he wanted.

(short asf but dw twin stay tuned for part two !!)

[n-e-c-o-r-e]

Twitter: wuyuan_FUJIE

[elenaxgrant]

+18 a simple gesture turns into something else...

what was supposed to be a thoughtful gesture—bringing your busy boyfriend a cup of his favorite tea while he was working—spiraled into you sitting on his desk, skirt hiked up, while he was eating you out like a man starved.

“l-levi, s-someone might come here,” his grip on your thighs is merciless. you’re basically caged by his strong arms on your sides. the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, raven locks falling forward to shadow his mesmerizing eyes.

“don’t care,” he says in between licking languid strips on your cunt. the all too familiar heat spreads quickly in your lower abdomen. your fingers tangle his soft hair, tugging, urging him closer.

it’d be a lie if you said that the thought of being caught doesn’t excite you at all. the possibility sends a dangerous thrill sparking up your spine.

“you taste so good, baby,” his voice is rough, tongue exploring every inch of you, savoring your sweet taste. the way he looks up at you with so much adoration and desire has you legs weak.

your thighs tremble as levi sucks your clit with such passion that makes you see stars. moans spill from your lips and you’re too blissed-out to worry about who might hear you.

„fuck, levi,” he could listen to your pretty whines all day; his sole purpose in this life is to worship you, to make you fall apart on his tongue so many times that you forget about the existence of others, that you only have him on your mind.

„i-i’m so c-close,” your plump lips part, eyes rolling to the back as pleasure sets your body on fire.

when release finally crashes over you, he doesn’t stop. instead, his tongue slows down, teasing and dragging every ounce of overstimulation from your trembling body. your pleadings go unnoticed, levi seems to be in a completely different dimension, utterly enchanted by you.

“m’not done with you yet,” he finally mutters and without wasting a second, he’s on you again.

[ackermanrage]

ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ

Levi isn’t loud in bed, not at all. But his silence is heavy. His breathing deepens. His hands move with purpose. He watches every reaction you give him like he’s trying to memorize it. Sometimes, he’ll whisper something under his breath, a praise, your name, a shaky curse, but he only lets those slip when you’ve unraveled him.

He’ll wash his hands before touching you. Every. Single. Time. But once they’re on you, he doesn’t hold back. Whether it’s gripping your hips hard enough to bruise or burying his face between your thighs like he’s starved.

Levi loves leaving bite marks where only he can see them, just under your collarbone, behind your knee, low on your waist.

Levi is a giver. Through and through. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need to. If he knows what you like, he’ll stay there, tongue, fingers, lips, until your legs are shaking and you’re begging him to stop. He gets this obsessive, tunnel-vision focus when he’s going down on you, like it’s a mission. He doesn’t stop until you’ve come at least twice.

And when Levi finally thrusts into you, it’s slower than you expect. Like he’s savoring it. His thrusts are deep, grinding, precise. He keeps your body where he wants it with a hand pressed flat against your stomach, the other curled around your wrist or throat.

Levi lets you ride him. He loves it. Not because he’s lazy, he just likes watching you, hands braced behind him, lip caught between his teeth as you grind on him slow and deep. But the second you start teasing him, slowing down on purpose, smirking while he’s holding back. And that’s when he grabs your hips and takes over, thrusting up into you hard and fast.

Levi doesn’t take compliments well in daily life. But in bed? When you whimper how good he feels, or moan out his name like he’s the only one who could ever make you come like this, it wrecks him. He doesn’t say anything. He just grunts, falters for a second, thrusts deeper. But his heart is pounding.

You lean over his desk in a low-cut shirt? He notices. Stretching in front of him with nothing under your shirt? He notices. He might not react right away, but the moment you’re alone, he'd be all up on you. “You knew exactly what you were doing today. You wanted me to lose control, didn’t you?”

Levi’s hands are precise. He knows your body. If you’re sensitive and already shaking, that just challenges him to see how much more you can take. He’ll keep rubbing your clit or fucking you slowly through your orgasm, watching the way you twitch and beg.

“You’re still taking me so well. Think you’ve got another one in you?” And when your body gives in again, clenching around him, his lips part like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Afterwards, Levi will just pull you close and clean you. Warm cloth, gentle hands, quiet kisses to the inside of your wrist. He’ll check if anything hurts, if he was too rough, if you’re cold. He’s calm and quiet, but his touch says everything his voice cant. “You okay?” You nod, sleepy. “Good… You did so well, y’know? So good for me.”

taglist: @lvstyangel @alebrasil0101 @creati-bunny @porcelain-soupspoon4 @r4td0lll @wedypopcytragedy @nxcxllxsevens @levkuna @glads-stuff @bnbaochauuu @maskedbunni @missesstargirl @pepsicolacoochie

©ackermanrage - please do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work!

[yunjitsu]

A commission I did for the amazing @sixpennydame, inspired by her great and heartwarming postwar Levi x OC fic, North Star. 🐴

[MORE INFO ABOUT COMMISSIONING ME]

[ackermanrage]

Now this is quite stupid , But I don't see anyone else being able to answer this in a way it makes sense because the way you write Levi Feels Like Levi (?) anyways , It's just a question, Feel free to skip , But what job would Levi take on If he was in the modern world (please don't say a janitor although I see him looking at a Janitor working somewhere and going "that's not how you do it." )

One of the most fitting modern jobs for Levi would be as a private security consultant or high-end bodyguard. Picture him dressed in all black—tailored shirt, gloves in his pocket, and an earpiece he refuses to explain. He’s always stationed near exits, memorizing everyone’s routines, calculating threats within seconds. He doesn't talk unless necessary, and yet he commands respect with his presence alone. He’s the kind of person who could be hired to protect a high-profile figure, and when trouble strikes, he's already neutralized the problem before anyone even realizes there was one. He may grumble about the politics and fake smiles, but he never lets a client down—especially the ones who earn his rare, quiet respect.

Another perfect option? Surgeon—specifically orthopedic. The cleanliness, control, and laser-focused precision of surgery are like therapy for Levi. He’d move through hospitals in blue scrubs, silent and alert, with hands that never shake and eyes that never miss. Levi would likely earn a reputation as terrifying but brilliant. He wouldn’t waste time on small talk in the OR—if you fumble an instrument, you’re dead to him. And if someone’s life is hanging by a thread, he’s the one who calmly, efficiently saves them. No panic. Just action.

Then there’s detective work, especially with missing persons or cold cases. Levi wouldn’t enjoy dealing with superiors or bureaucracy, but his instincts are unmatched. He’d sit in silence, pouring over old case files, catching overlooked details and chasing leads no one else thought to follow. He doesn’t trust people easily, but when it comes to getting answers, he never gives up. If someone’s gone, he will find them. And if someone’s lying, he’ll know the second they open their mouth. He’s the kind of detective that internal affairs can’t stand—but the victims’ families will never forget.

idk these are just my opinions 😭😭

taglist: @lvstyangel @alebrasil0101 @creati-bunny @porcelain-soupspoon4 @r4td0lll @wedypopcytragedy @nxcxllxsevens @levkuna @glads-stuff @bnbaochauuu @maskedbunni @auriuswolve

©ackermanrage - please do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work!

[wittyjasontodd]

You already know…

Need that dick in fact I crave it

[gangnampinkstyle]

throwback to my levi fanart that went viral on tiktok 😛

[serikai]

quicky with levi ackerman

you’re bent over the desk panties shoved aside, levi behind you, his breaths short and controlled, his hands gripping your hips with bruising precision.

the headquarters is quiet, but footsteps echo faintly down the hall, making this quickie a dangerous game, levi’s in his uniform, cravat loosened, his steel eyes sharp, locked on you as he thrusts, quick and deep, the desk creaking softly.

“not a sound.” he hisses, his voice low, clipped, a captain’s order, his hand clamping over your mouth, muffling the moan threatening to spill.

“you want us caught, brat?” his tone’s harsh, but his touch is calculated, his fingers warm against your lips, his other hand digging into your hip, pulling you back onto him.

you nod, frantic, your hands gripping the desk’s edge, your body trembling, the stretch of him intense.

“levi,” you try to whisper but it’s muffled, your voice barely a breath against his palm, your thighs shaking as he hits that spot, each thrust quickened.

“quiet,” he snaps his voice a low growl, leaning over you, his chest against your back, his lips by your ear. “one noise, and i stop. understand?” his thrusts slow, torturing you, his hand tightening over your mouth, his eyes scanning your face for compliance.

you whimper, soft and stifled nodding again, your body arching begging silently, your hips pushing back, needing more of him.

he grunts, low picking up his pace, fucking you harder, the desk rattling, his breaths sharp but silent, his discipline ironclad even now.

“fuck, you’re tight.” he muttergs, his voice barely audible, his hand sliding from your hip to your clit, circling fast, making you bite your lip under his palm, a muffled moan escaping.

his eyes narrow, a warning, but he doesn’t stop, his fingers relentless, pushing you closer. “levi, please..” you mumble against his hand, your voice a choked whisper, your body shaking, so close, the risk of getting caught fueling the heat.

he presses harder over your mouth, his thrusts sharp, desperate, his control fraying. “cum, now,” he orders, his voice rough, low, his fingers circling faster.

“quietly.” you obey, your orgasm hitting, your body clenching tight around him, a stifled cry trapped against his hand, as your thighs trembled.

[joemama-2]

𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 & 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚

・❥・ pairing: veteran! levi x fem reader

╰┈➤ synopsis: known as ‘marley’s darling’, your father, a high-ranking marleyan diplomat, introduced you as his pride and joy since you were out the womb. dazzling smiles, coy and subtly flirtatious remarks, an innocent but seductive allure that keeps you in the eyes of the public. with concerns for your safety, your father hires levi ackerman as your personal bodyguard, a war hero to some, a warm criminal to others. the same man who fought against your people.

・❥・ wc: 7k

・❥・ tags/warnings: age gap, levi is in his late thirties, reader is 26, angst, fluff, smut, alcohol, drugs, war veteran! levi, reader takes inspo from marilyn monroe, mentions of ptsd, depression, death, post! war, prejudice, guns, knives, violence, reader is marleyan, slow burn, sorta opposites attract?, dark themes, cussing, gross men, no titans! modern au, may have some canon divergent elements (e.g. levi has both legs still lol)

・❥・ series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

“Don’t you already have bodyguards? Multiple of them?” 

“Yes, but apparently I’m this one’s specific responsibility.” You sip from your mimosa, leaning back casually in the pool chair. The summer rays of the warm Sunday morning shine down on your little posse. Circular black shades obscure your vision, wearing a red checkered, halter, one-piece swimsuit. White manicured toes wiggling out in front of you, gazing at your French tips. God, I need a new set.  

“Is he handsome?” Isabella asks, smiling dreamily. Resting her chin on her palm, she moved a strand of red hair away from her light hazel eyes. 

You playfully roll your eyes, having grown accustomed to your best friend’s antics after years of friendship. “He is. However, he's a little on the short side.”

“Well, height isn’t everything, Y/N.” Naomi sits to your right. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She holds a cool glass of soda, opting away from any alcoholic beverages. It’s a running joke between you three, one where you and Isabella would call her the prude of the group.

“Oh, it totally is!” Isabella huffs, leaning over to look at Naomi. “A man should be tall. Tall, handsome, strong—” 

“Rich,” you add. 

“Kind,” Naomi tacks on, giving you a look. 

“And charming,” Isabella finishes off, leaning back in her chair.

You sip your mimosa once more, head tilting up towards the sky. “Well, I just met him. I can’t exactly say he’s my dream man. In fact, I’m already growing slightly irritated with his presence.”

“What? Why?” Isabella asks, standing up. She stretches before stepping into the jacuzzi. 

“Why?” You echo back in disbelief, scoffing. “For one, he’ll be all on my ass 24/7.”

Naomi pats your arm. “It’s for your protection, Y/N. It may not be completely ideal, but try to look at it from the bright side.”

You love Naomi. However, her optimism and headstrong, realistic ways of thinking tend to get on your nerves. But you suppose it’s much needed with you three. While she’s the more measured, grounded one, Isabella is all heart and heat—led by whims, wild dreams, and red wine. A flirty, extroverted bimbo, labeled by some. And you? You’re somewhere in between. Sweet enough to charm a room, sharp enough to carve through it if you had to.

You glance at Naomi and give her a soft, sarcastic smile. “The bright side? Sure. Maybe he’ll be so bored of guarding me, he’ll ask to be reassigned.”

“I don’t think anyone could be bored of guarding you,” Isabella calls from the jacuzzi, flipping her wet hair back with theatrical flair. “You’re chaos in lipstick.”

“And diamonds,” you remind her, raising your glass. “Don’t forget the diamonds.”

Naomi shakes her head but smiles all the same. “Just be careful around him, okay? Especially if he’s been assigned by your father. You know how he operates. He doesn’t place people unless they serve more than one purpose.”

You go still for a moment, her words settling over the group. You swirl the mimosa in your glass, the citrusy scent tickling your nose as your lips press into a faint smile, one without amusement. “Yeah,” you murmur, “I know.”

There’s a pause. Just long enough for the weight of unspoken truths to stretch between the three of you.

Isabella tries to lift the mood. “Well, if he’s cute, maybe you’ll get over it. Who knows—maybe he’ll fall hopelessly in love with you, and it’ll all turn into some scandalous forbidden romance.”

You laugh, but there’s no real humor in it. “If he’s smart, he’ll keep his distance.”

Naomi’s eyes narrow slightly behind her sunglasses. “You think he’s dangerous?”

You shrug, setting your glass down on the small table beside you. “I think he’s not just a bodyguard. And I think my father doesn’t hand me off to strangers unless they’re there to report back.”

Isabella sinks deeper into the water, lips pursed thoughtfully. “Then why does it feel like this one’s different?”

Because he is. You’re not sure why yet, but something about Levi Ackerman is…off-script. Off-brand. Like he’s not here to play the part your father gave him, but hasn’t told anyone what script he’s reading from. Or maybe that’s just your own trust issues coming into play, rearing its ugly head. 

“I don’t trust him,” you finally say. “But I don’t think he trusts me, either.”

Naomi tilts her head. “Then you’re a perfect match.”

You snort, reaching for your glass again. “God forbid.” But still, your mind drifts back to the moment he looked at you—not with lust, not with obedience, but with evaluation. Like he was dissecting the game before even agreeing to play. 

“Well,” Isabella wonders, tilting her head. “Where’s this short man now?”

“Meeting with my father in his study.” 

Isabella’s face lights up. “Do you think he likes redheads?”

“Sure. Or one of those Eldian freaks.” You laugh, Isabella joining in. It takes a few seconds for you both to realize the mistake you unintentionally made. Glancing at Naomi from the corner of your eye, you tone down your laughter as you notice her awkwardly looking away. 

Damn it. 

“It’s okay,” she’s quick to placate you, head shaking. “It was a joke. It was funny.”

“Dammit, I’m sorry, Naomi. It just…I didn’t mean that. I know you’re…you know, too. That was insensitive of me.”

Isabella frowns, scratching her neck. “I’m sorry, dearie.”

Naomi waves it off with a small smile, but her fingers tighten slightly around the condensation of her soda glass. “Seriously, it’s fine,” she says, eyes still averted. “You’re not the first to say it without thinking. Probably won’t be the last.”

The silence that follows isn’t hostile, it’s just… heavy. A little too honest for a summer morning by the pool.

You sit up a little straighter, mimosa forgotten. “No, but I should’ve thought. Especially around you. You know I don’t actually—” You stop yourself, biting back the hollow defense that it was just a slip. That it didn’t mean anything. Because it did mean something. To her. And if Naomi didn’t always speak up when she should, you sure as hell needed to.

Naomi finally looks at you, meeting your gaze. Her smile is faint, but warmer this time. “It’s okay,” she says again, more softly. “I know where your heart is. I just… I guess sometimes I wish people wouldn’t use ‘Eldian’ like it’s a slur. Even if it’s just for a punchline.”

You nod, a lump forming in your throat that you weren’t expecting. Guilt always hits harder when it’s deserved. “You’re right,” you say, quieter now. “I’ve grown up hearing it tossed around like nothing. I guess some of it is still stuck without me realizing.”

Naomi leans back in her seat, exhaling slowly, as if releasing something she’s been holding onto for a while. “It gets exhausting,” she admits. “Having to constantly remind people you’re not less than. That your blood doesn’t define you.”

Isabella’s expression softens, her usual airy playfulness dimming to something more grounded. “We’ll do better,” she says, and for once there’s no dramatics—just sincerity.

You glance between your friends, two women who’ve stood beside you through everything—your father’s schemes, the unbearable galas, the endless expectations—and wonder how many other things you’ve overlooked.

Then Naomi shifts the mood with a small laugh, nudging her soda glass toward the edge of the table. “But if he does like redheads, Isabella, please don’t seduce him on the first day. Let the man settle in.”

Isabella gasps, hand over her heart. “I would never—well, maybe just a little harmless flirting.”

You roll your eyes, tension easing from your shoulders. “God, imagine him trying to flirt back. He’d probably just grunt and walk away.”

Naomi chuckles. “Sounds like your type.”

You throw your head back with a groan. “Don’t start.”

But despite the heat, despite the awkward moment that still lingers in the edges of your conscience, the day begins to feel lighter again. There’s still so much unspoken between the three of you—but maybe that’s the thing about friendship in a world like yours. You learn when to speak, when to listen, and when to simply stay.

“This is Coco. You treat her as if she were me. With respect, pride, and dignity. I expect you to lay your life on the line for her, as well.”

Levi’s arms cross, staring down at the tiny Pomeranian in your arms. You’ve even got the little thing wearing some pink sweater, a sparkly collar around her neck. “Coco,” he repeats lowly, not bothering to hold back a grimace as you bring the dog up close and personal to his face. 

When he tries to pull back, you smile. “Don’t worry. She just needs to get accustomed to your smell. Almost like I do, too.”

Levi scowls, leaning ever so slightly away from the tiny dog’s excited sniffs. “I’m not getting close enough for either of you to ‘adjust.’”

“She likes you already,” you tease, nuzzling Coco’s head affectionately. “See how she didn’t bark? That’s rare. She only likes people with good instincts.”

“Or maybe she just knows I could punt her halfway across the garden.”

Your jaw drops. “You wouldn’t dare.”

His eyes narrow. “Try me.”

Coco lets out a dainty sneeze, wiggling in your arms, her fluffy tail wagging. Levi’s scowl deepens as you coo at her and plant a kiss on the top of her head like she’s royalty.

You look up at him with a sweet, dangerous smile. “If anything happens to her under your watch, I’ll tell my father you laid a hand on me.”

He stares at you, deadpan. “So you’re threatening me now.”

You shrug. “No, I’m just stating facts.”

He glances down at Coco again, who stares back with big, sparkling eyes and a crooked little smile.

“…She blinks weird.”

“She’s got a lazy eye. Don’t be rude.”

Levi exhales through his nose, hands resting on his hips. “Great. I’m babysitting a glorified dust mop with attitude.”

“And she bites.”

He raises a brow. “So do I.”

You grin. “I’m counting on it.” 

You follow your remark with an airy chuckle, walking through the foyer of the estate and into the kitchen. Levi follows. You open a pantry door that reveals seven rows of varying dog foods, treats, toys, bowls, and collars. “This is where her food is. I’ll show you her room later.”

“Your dog has her own room?” He asks in veiled disbelief. 

“Why, of course. She’s just as important, if not more, than anyone else here.”

Levi follows the sweep of your hand with a blank stare, as if processing the absurdity before him. “Right,” he mutters. “Priorities.”

You bend down to grab a bag of organic grain-free kibble, the kind that smells vaguely like roasted chicken and bankruptcy. “She also has very specific dietary restrictions. No wheat, no soy, no artificial preservatives. And she eats twice a day—sharp times, Levi. Eight a.m. and six p.m. Not a minute later.”

He watches you pour a sample into a tiny, crystal-trimmed bowl that probably costs more than a person’s monthly salary. “You know, there are political prisoners in internment camps who eat less gourmet than this.”

You glance at him, head tilting. “And that’s Coco’s fault, how?”

He doesn’t respond. He just blinks slowly, like he’s trying to disassociate from the moment.

You straighten up and gesture for him to follow again. “Come. I’ll show you her closet.”

“Her closet.”

You nod, already halfway out of the kitchen. “Yes. You need to familiarize yourself with her outfits. She doesn’t repeat looks unless it’s for rainy days, and even then, only in rotation. Oh, and she has allergies, so avoid the lavender detergent on her bedsheets.”

Levi stands there for a beat longer, as if silently cursing whatever life decision led him to this point. “Do I get hazard pay for this?” he finally mutters, trailing after you and the prancing fluff ball upstairs like a man walking toward his doom.

“I didn’t know my father hired such a comedian.” You smile, looking back over your shoulder at him. “Have you tried stand-up?” Your hand curls around the doorknob, twisting it open. 

Levi doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even blink. He just stares at you with that same unimpressed expression, as if your joke barely registered on his humor scale. “Only if the stage’s on fire,” he mutters. “And I’m dragging someone off it.”

You laugh anyway, amused by the dry delivery, the way his voice stays low and flat. “So that’s a no?”

The door swings open, revealing Coco’s room. Or rather—Coco’s suite. The small space is decked out in pastel pinks, custom pet furniture, plush carpeting, and a miniature chandelier hanging delicately from the ceiling. One wall displays an array of dog couture, another holds framed photos of Coco at various events, some of which Levi suspects had a guest list and press coverage.

You step aside proudly, gesturing. “Welcome to the queen’s quarters.”

Levi exhales slowly through his nose, staring into the room like he’s just found out this dog lives better than most humans. “She’s got better security than the embassy,” he comments.

“And now she has you,” you tease, nudging his arm lightly as you move past him again. “Aren’t we lucky?”

He looks down at the tiny pink bed with Coco’s name embroidered in gold thread, then back at you. “You mean me, right?”

You grin over your shoulder. “No, I meant her.”

Levi watches you trot around the room, grabbing a pair of nail clippers and a small comb. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Watching you fuss over your dog’s appearance as if she were your own child. Maybe in a way to you, she is. Levi’s always felt weird about people treating animals—especially tiny dogs like this one—with such lavishness. And some people can barely afford food on the table. 

“Your father never mentioned anything about this dog in my contract,” he decides to speak up, head tilting slightly. 

You glance up from where you’ve crouched beside Coco’s plush vanity stool, pausing mid-brush. “Is that so?” you hum, like it’s mildly interesting but not surprising. “Well, consider her an extension of me. Where I go, she goes. When I’m out, she stays with someone I trust. That someone is you.”

Levi’s arms remain crossed, his gaze fixed on you with a slow-burning skepticism. “I’m not a dog sitter.”

You stand and walk toward him, the nail clippers swinging loosely from your fingers. “No,” you agree, stepping close—close enough for Coco to bark once from her seat like she’s watching a drama unfold. “You’re my bodyguard. Which means you protect what matters to me. And Coco matters.”

Levi exhales, more out of habit than exasperation. “I thought I was protecting you from political threats. Not from… chipped nails and improperly brushed fur.”

You shrug, eyes glittering with amusement. “Threats come in many forms, Mr. Ackerman. A single snag in Coco’s coat could be a national tragedy. Now hold her.”

He gives you a look like you’ve lost your mind. “You’re serious.”

You place Coco delicately into his arms, ignoring how rigid he becomes. “Completely.”

As you return to her vanity to grab her tiny sunglasses, Levi stares down at the fluffy dog in his arms, now yawning in a way he’s sure is mocking him. His nose twitches, already feeling his allergies begin to act up. Walking back over, you slide the sunglasses onto her face. “So, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”

Levi shifts uncomfortably with the delicate weight in his arms. He cleared his throat with a small grunt. “What do you know?”

“What should I know?” You easily reply back, innocently raising your eyebrow and holding back a small smile behind your hand. 

Your attitude really ticks him off. It’s like you never fully answer what he asks you, like you’re trained to veil yourself behind an alluring persona. “I’ve been assigned to protect you, that’s all you need to know.”

“Oh? Secretive man, aren’t you?” 

“Reserved,” he corrects. 

You hum in response, eyes trailing leisurely down his stiff posture, the way his hands hover just slightly off Coco’s fluffy pink sweater like he’s afraid of contaminating her, or himself. He’s already visibly uncomfortable, the dog nestled against his broad chest with all the ceremony of a royal child, and yet you can tell he’d rather be anywhere else. It makes you smile.

“Well, reserved,” you say, tone breezy as ever as you gently reach out to adjust Coco’s sparkly sunglasses. “That doesn’t help me sleep any easier at night. You’ll be shadowing me, probably listening to every private call and watching every awkward wardrobe change. I’d think the least you could offer me is your favorite color. Or—I don’t know—what you do when you’re not threatening men in suits with your eyes.”

Levi’s jaw tightens, eyes narrowing just slightly. “I don’t need you to sleep easier. I need you to stay alive.”

You blink once, lips parted slightly at the bluntness of it. His voice is low, calm, but edged with something colder than you expected. A kind of calculated disinterest. You wonder if that’s how he’s been trained—or if that’s just how he is. The silence between you stretches long enough for Coco to give a huff, burying her snout into his arm like even she’s growing bored. You cross your arms.

“You know,” you murmur after a moment, voice a touch softer, “for a guy who’s supposed to be keeping me alive, you sure seem like you can’t stand being around me.”

“I don’t need to like you to do my job,” he says coolly, handing Coco back to you with the delicacy of someone handling an explosive.

You cradle the dog with ease, pressing a kiss to her head as she lets out a yip of approval. “Mm. That’s a shame. I was hoping we’d at least be friends.”

Levi gives you a once-over. Not suggestive. Not admiring. Just assessing. “Friends don’t let friends carry designer rats in rhinestones.”

You gasp dramatically, hugging Coco closer to your chest. “How dare you? She’s royalty.”

“She’s shedding on my shirt.”

“Your shirt should feel honored.”

Levi turns to leave the room, muttering under his breath as he goes, “This is going to be a long assignment.”

You scoff, trailing after him with Coco in your arms. “I’m counting on it, short king.”

The look he throws over his shoulder could freeze the sun.

It’s later that night that you find yourself dressed up. Hair styled neatly into pin curls, wearing your signature red lip, a neutral, subtle gray shadow coating your lids. Your figure is adorned in a satin, champagne, form-fitting gown that reaches just past your knees, with an off-the-shoulder neckline. You’re wearing a diamond choker with a shawl draped loosely across your arms. In your hand, you hold a small, jeweled clutch. And finally, you’ve topped the outfit off with red, pointed-toed, stiletto heels. 

Your father is dressed in his usual, steam-pressed suit, hair neatly swooped back. His hand finds your lower back as he leads you into the high-end casino he’s been invited to for the night. Usually, casinos aren’t your thing. Too rowdy and gross for your liking, but you have nothing else on your agenda for the night. Flashes blind your vision, people shouting out your name or your father’s. A flank of his men crowd you both as you enter, Levi closely packed to your right. 

It’s the kind of casino only the important can get into, hence the tight security and lavish building. 

Crystal chandeliers hang from the gilded ceiling like falling stars, refracting light off rows of polished marble floors and deep velvet carpets. The air smells faintly of expensive cigars and stronger egos, underscored by the delicate sound of piano keys humming in the background. Every man in this room is either rich or pretending to be. Every woman sparkles under the weight of diamonds too big to be discreet. You fit right in—and you know it.

Your father nods to familiar faces, shaking hands and murmuring greetings with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His grip on your lower back tightens as the two of you walk deeper into the opulence, a silent reminder: be charming, be seen, but don’t speak unless you have to. Levi trails behind. He blends in well in his tailored black suit, but there’s something about him that doesn’t quite match the rest of this place—maybe it’s his perpetual scowl, or the way his eyes never stop scanning the room. He’s not here for the champagne or the poker. He’s here to calculate threats. To make sure no one gets too close to you.

“Smile,” your father murmurs as you pass a pair of high-ranking politicians. “Senator Moreau’s daughter is here tonight. Keep your head high.”

You do as you’re told, turning just enough to offer a warm, practiced smile to the right people. Levi’s eyes meet yours briefly in the reflection of a mirror near the bar. 

After a while, your father excuses himself to a private table with the hosts, flanked by security. He gives Levi a nod, a silent command to watch closely over you. You’re left standing alone near the bar with Levi hovering by your side.

“Do I look like I’m enjoying myself?” you ask without looking at him, nursing a glass of something that tastes like flowers and money.

“You look like you’re about to rob this place blind,” he replies dryly, watching the room.

You laugh softly. “Flattering. But I think you just mean I look expensive.”

“No,” he says. “I mean, you look dangerous.”

Your smile lingers a moment longer before you take another sip, letting the tension between you settle somewhere behind your ribs. “You know,” you say slowly, turning to face him more directly, “you could at least pretend you’re having a good time.”

“I’m not paid to pretend,” he says, eyes still on the crowd.

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” You glance toward the roulette tables where a crowd has gathered, already making your way toward it with a small tilt of your head. “Because this is my favorite part.”

He follows without protest, his expression unreadable. And as the casino lights dance off your diamond choker and the slit of your dress glides with every step, you feel the burn of his gaze again, unmoving, attentive, and just maybe a little curious.

“Hello, boys,” you greet the small group of four men who meticulously play whatever game they’re glued to. Hand drifting to the shoulder of one in particular. “My sweet James, I haven’t seen you in ages.” With a smile, you lean in to plant a tiny kiss on his cheek. 

James Starton—son of a shipping magnate, heir to a fortune you could recite the layers of in your sleep—grins widely when he sees you. His golden Rolex glints under the lights as he chuckles, reaching up to touch the spot on his cheek where your lips just left a trace. “Y/N. As stunning as ever,” he says, leaning back in his seat with practiced ease. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us common folk.”

The other three men offer you similar greetings, none as familiar as James's, but polite enough. They each take a moment to rake their eyes over your figure, the way the satin clings to you like a second skin. You can feel Levi’s presence close behind, a solid shadow that seems to grow heavier the longer you linger.

“I could never forget you, James,” you purr, fingers lightly trailing across the back of his chair as you circle to the empty one beside him. “But you know how it is. Daddy keeps me busy, and this city doesn’t exactly run itself.”

James laughs. “Well, I hope you’re here to play. We could use a little more luck at the table.” He gestures to the chips in front of him, plenty of them, because, of course, he’s doing well tonight. But then again, James always likes to look like he’s winning, whether he is or not.

You cross your legs as you sit, angling yourself just enough to maintain control of the room—and the conversation. “Maybe I’ll play a few hands,” you muse, glancing at the dealer. “If only for the company.”

Levi doesn’t move, but you know he’s dutifully watching. You can feel the tension radiating off of him like heat. The way his gaze probably narrows at how close James leans, or how you’re toying with the man’s cufflink like it’s a nervous tic.

James leans in just slightly, voice low. “And who’s that, then?” He nods in Levi’s direction without bothering to hide the amusement in his tone. “New arm candy? Your type’s changed.”

You smile sweetly, flicking your eyes up at Levi before returning your gaze to James. “Bodyguard,” you say simply. “And you’d do well to remember that.”

The warning is soft, almost playful—but not quite. It’s enough to make James raise his hands in surrender, even as he chuckles. “Duly noted.”

Levi remains resolute, unreadable, and silent. But when you catch his eye again, just for a moment, you could swear there’s a flicker of something there.

Levi can’t even count the number of times he’s checked his wristwatch throughout the night, holding back groans of annoyance as he’s forced to spend the entirety of his time following after you like a lost puppy. And it’s no better for him since you seem to be just a peachy, social butterfly. There hasn’t been a single minute you weren’t talking to someone, either approaching or being approached. Of course, the blatant nasty stares thrown his way piss him off even more. He ignores them to the best of his ability, but even he has his limits. Your father has been nowhere to be seen for the past few hours, and he’s debating whether or not he should just call it a night himself. He knows for sure, however, that you’re on your fourth glass of champagne and your cheeks look more flushed, definitely not the pretty pink-red blush you applied to the apples of your cheeks before leaving the estate. 

He’s unsure if this job of his entails making sure you’re not getting shit-faced. As long as you’re in one piece, everything should be good, right? 

At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself. Just keep her breathing, Levi. That’s all you’re here for. But then you laugh—loud and carefree—throwing your head back, fingers lightly brushing the arm of a tall, square-jawed politician’s son. The guy’s been hanging around your table for the past half hour, saying too many words and standing too damn close. Levi watches your champagne flute teeter in your hand as you wave it around mid-conversation, the golden liquid dangerously close to splashing over the rim.

That’s four glasses, he reminds himself. Almost five. He knows because he counted. Keeps count of everything when he’s bored out of his mind. Which is every second you’re not sitting down quietly or keeping to yourself, which, apparently, is never.

Still, he does nothing. Not yet. He’s not exactly your babysitter. If anything, it’s his job to be invisible—out of the way, just close enough to act if things go south. And this? This is just champagne and annoying men with soft hands and louder mouths. It isn’t a threat.

Until you start to sway just slightly when you get up from the table.

Levi is at your side before you can even blink. “I think it’s time to sit down,” he says, his voice low and steady as he grips your elbow, not tightly, but firm enough to halt you.

You blink up at him, lashes fluttering. “Am I wobbling?” you ask sweetly, drawing out the word like it’s part of some performance. “You know, I think the floor here is uneven.”

“Yeah,” Levi mutters. “That must be it.”

The man you were speaking with raises a brow at Levi’s interruption, but one look from the bodyguard has him shifting back in his seat. Not wanting to pick a fight. Smart.

“You’re really no fun at all, Levi,” you pout, but you don’t resist when he guides you toward a quieter corner of the casino.

“Not here to be fun,” he grumbles, pulling out a chair for you anyway. “Here to make sure you don’t end up passed out in someone’s Bentley.”

You sit with a dramatic sigh, smoothing your hands over your dress. “You’re too uptight. Have a drink. Loosen up.”

He doesn’t respond. Just crosses his arms and stands beside you like a stone wall.

But he does notice the way your smile fades a little after a few quiet moments. How your gaze trails toward the floor instead of the crowd now. And how your fingers slowly start to fidget with the edge of your clutch. Maybe you are a little drunk. Or maybe you’re just tired.

Either way, Levi doesn’t question it. Not his job. 

“Hello, beautiful.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he mutters lowly under his breath, looking at the newcomer.  

The man standing before you is exactly the type Levi’s has grown to despise—tall, smug, with a perfectly bleached smile and a designer suit tailored to say I’ve never worked a real day in my life. He reeks of money, cologne, and confidence he clearly didn’t earn. Levi doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up, unsure if it’s with affection. You plaster on your most charming smile, the same one you’ve been wearing all night like a mask. “Hello, darling,” you purr, tilting your head just slightly. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“And miss a chance to run into you again?” the man replies, stepping closer as if Levi doesn’t exist. “Not a chance.”

Levi shifts subtly, just enough to stand half a step closer to you. Not touching, not speaking, but clearly there.

The man finally acknowledges him with a passing glance, tone dropping a notch. “Your new shadow?”

“He prefers bodyguard,” you say dryly, sipping the last of your champagne. “But yes.”

“Seems a little tense,” the man muses, eyes raking over Levi without a hint of concern. “Relax, man. You’re not needed here.”

Levi stares back, unblinking. “Try something stupid. You’ll see how needed I am.”

The smile on the man’s face falters just enough to satisfy him.

You exhale through your nose, amused despite yourself. “Alright, boys, no pissing contest tonight. I already have a headache.”

“Then maybe I can walk you out, give you some air?” the man offers, extending his hand.

Levi tenses, but he doesn’t move. Not until you decide.

You pause—a moment too long—before setting your empty glass down. “Tempting,” you hum, “but I’ve already got company tonight.” Your hand brushes Levi’s arm ever so lightly. He doesn’t flinch, but you feel the way his muscles tense beneath your touch.

“Aww, well that’s not fun.”

“I’m always fun with you, Michael.” 

Michael’s grin returns, smug and knowing. He steps back just enough to give you one final once-over, eyes lingering a little too long on the curve of your hips, the bare skin of your shoulders, the long stretch of leg revealed by the slit of your gown. “That you are,” he says smoothly. “I’ll hold you to that. Another time.”

You don’t answer—just offer a wink and a flick of your fingers as a farewell, already turning your back to him. Levi doesn’t move until Michael is a good five strides away, swallowed up by the casino crowd and whatever other equally self-obsessed suits are waiting for him.

Only then does he finally exhale, sharp and quiet. “Friends like that, huh?” he mutters.

You shrug, barely glancing at him. “He’s harmless. Annoying, but harmless.”

Levi scoffs, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You’ve got a strange definition of harmless.”

You glance sideways at him, watching the stiff line of his jaw, the way his eyes are still scanning the room. Still on edge. “You really don’t like him.”

“I don’t like most of them,” he replies flatly.

“Most of whom?”

“The men who think they know you. Who think they’re entitled to touch you, look at you like you’re already theirs. Makes me sick.”

You blink at that—caught off guard not by the words themselves, but by the way he says them. Not possessively, not jealously. Just matter-of-fact, like it’s a truth he carries around all the time and only now decided to share. For a moment, you say nothing. Just let the silence settle again. And then, softer, “Is that part of your job too?”

Levi turns to you, expression unreadable. “No,” he says. “That part’s just me.”

And somehow, that answer makes your chest tighten in a way you weren’t prepared for.

“Don’t play father,” you sigh softly and stand up. 

Levi’s hands automatically move out, hovering above, actually holding your arms. “Forgive me for hoping you’d have a little more respect for yourself.”

You chuckle, eyebrow raised. “Self-respect?” You echo, fingers dancing up along his broad shoulders. “My, if I didn’t have any of that, I would’ve had my time with you the minute I met you.”

“I still barely know you.”

“Does that mean you wouldn’t be opposed?” Your arms wrap fully around his neck, he feels the soft tingle of your breath fan across his cheek as you lean in. The tip of your nose skims his jawline. 

His face remains stony, arms stiff by his sides. After a few seconds, he gently untangles your arms from his neck, stepping back enough for some space between you two. “You’re drunk, we’ll go find your father, then head back.”

The tip of your lip downturns into a frown. However, before you can respond, yet another manly voice interrupts. 

“Her father is already waiting for her outside.”

You both look to your right. Standing there, an average-height man, his blonde hair parted to the side, it reaches just before the end of his ears. Light blue eyes darting between Levi and you, narrowing just slightly in suspicion. He steps forward wordlessly, taking your hand in his and subtly stepping between you two. Levi’s own suspicion rises, confused by the way this man nonchalantly laces his fingers in yours. You twitch briefly. 

“You must be the new guy,” he says, chin tilting up like he’s silently one-upping him. 

Levi already doesn’t like him. 

“Oh, Daniel. I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“Your father sent me abroad, remember? Today’s my first day back.”

“Oh, right,” you hum, heavy-lidded eyes looking back at Levi. “Well, here’s the newest addition.”

“I can see that,” Daniel focuses on the other man across from him, lip briefly moving up in a self-satisfied smirk. He only offers Levi a nod. “Daniel Foster. Head of security for the Suzukis.”

Head of security. Levi doesn’t need to ask the obvious, the guy already seems to be trying to display some shitty air of dominance over him already. Levi crosses his arms. “Levi.”

Daniel’s smile tightens, but he keeps his tone casual, almost too casual for the tension in the room. “Levi, huh? Heard a bit about you already. Can’t say I’m thrilled to have competition, but it is what it is. Just wish it wasn’t someone of your background.”

Levi doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes locked on Daniel’s with a cool, assessing gaze. There’s something about Daniel, the way he moves, the ease in his voice, that reeks of control, authority, and a hint of entitlement. Not the type to back down easily. Not the type he can stand to be in a room with. 

You tug lightly on Daniel’s hand, your voice soft but firm. “Let’s not start a turf war tonight, boys.”

Daniel glances at you with a smirk. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to cause trouble. Just making sure you get home safe.”

Levi’s jaw tightens. “Same here.”

A quiet moment passes, the three of you standing there under the dim casino lights, an unspoken challenge hanging between Levi and Daniel like a thin wire ready to snap. You clear your throat, stepping between them with a graceful but commanding presence. “Enough of that. Tonight’s over. Let’s get out of here.”

Daniel gives Levi a final look, nods once, and then turns toward the exit, pulling you gently along. Levi falls back, watching the two of you go, his mind already working through the layers beneath this simple encounter.

The ride back home is a silent one. Sitting in the blacked-out limousine are you, Makoto, Daniel, and Levi. Unfortunately for the other two men, they’re made to sit next to one another, directly across from you and your father. You’re leaning against the door, eyes closed and softly snoozing. Makoto is on your left, holding a small glass of Brandy, looking out the tinted windows. 

“So,” Makoto speaks up, swallowing his dark liquor and looking at the two across from him. “Daniel, I don’t think you’ve formally met Levi here.”

“Not that I mind,” Daniel shrugs, grinning. 

Levi’s jaw clenches. 

“Well, he’s Y/N’s personal guard. There may be times I’ll have you two work together. So I want no issues between you two.”

Levi doesn’t break eye contact with Makoto, even as he feels the weight of Daniel’s smirk settle beside him like a bad itch.

“Understood,” Levi replies flatly, voice cool and unreadable. His arms are crossed, legs slightly apart, posture steady and grounded.

Daniel chuckles under his breath and leans back, one arm resting casually along the leather seat. “Don’t worry, sir. I play nice when I have to. Long as he knows his place, I don’t see why there’d be any trouble.”

Levi turns his head slowly toward Daniel, the flicker of a glare igniting in his steely gaze. “I don’t take up much space,” he says, voice quiet and edged, “but I don’t move for people like you.”

Makoto raises an eyebrow, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Good,” he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. “It’s about time someone made things interesting around here.”

The silence afterward is tense but calm. Heavy. You’re still asleep, blissfully unaware, your head resting against the cool glass as the city lights blur by. And Makoto, ever the puppet master, just sits back and enjoys the quiet unraveling.

When you all get back, Makoto easily exits the car. Barely moving a wave of his hand towards your slumped figure, silently communicating the order to have someone get you out of the car. Levi takes a step forward, but Daniel beats him. Opening your side of the car and carefully maneuvering you into his arms, bridal style. 

Levi halts mid-step, jaw ticking as Daniel effortlessly lifts you into his arms like he’s done it a hundred times before. You stir faintly against Daniel’s chest, murmuring something incoherent as your head nuzzles into his shoulder, completely unaware of the tension thickening behind you. “Got her,” Daniel says, glancing over his shoulder at Levi with an irritating air of familiarity. “She’s used to me doing this.”

Levi doesn’t respond immediately—he simply watches. The way Daniel’s grip is secure but deliberately gentle, the way his stride toward the estate is confident, unbothered, like he owns the ground he walks on. Like he owns you.

Levi follows at a steady pace, fists tucked into his coat pockets.

Used to it, huh?

Something about that doesn’t sit right. Maybe it’s the implication that you need rescuing this often, or maybe it’s just the casual claim Daniel seems to be making over you. Makoto is already gone, vanished behind the estate doors, leaving Levi and Daniel alone with the weight of unspoken rivalry between them. The massive entrance opens at their approach, and Daniel doesn’t wait. He strides up the grand staircase, taking you toward your wing without a second glance.

Levi stops at the base of the stairs, eyes tracking the retreating pair. 

A strange feeling resides in his gut, jaw clenching tightly. He doesn’t exactly understand why he feels so utterly put off by this guy and the way he acts towards you. It’s like he’s trying to engage in a competition of sorts, one Levi did not sign up for. Must be the way people around here work. It would probably be best not to think too much of it. After all, he’s been sought out specifically for your help. Not some pompous, Ken-looking asshole like Daniel. 

Still, as Levi watched Daniel disappear down the hallway with you in his arms, that uneasy feeling in his gut refuses to settle. It coils like a slow burn in his stomach, fed by the smug glint in Daniel’s eyes and the way you unconsciously leaned into his touch, like your body knew him—trusted him.

Levi scoffs under his breath.

He doesn’t get people like Daniel. The polished, playboy types who waltz through life with effortless charm and empty grins, hiding ambition behind every compliment and promise. He’s seen too many of them in the military and on the field—too many snakes in custom-tailored suits pretending to protect what they only want to possess. The thought irritates him more than it should. Because this isn’t his game. He’s not here to win hearts or charm anyone. He’s here to protect. To observe. To keep you alive.

And yet.

Why the hell does it matter who carries you to bed?

Levi rolls his shoulders back and exhales slowly through his nose, trying to shake the tension that’s settled deep in his bones. It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t. It doesn’t. He heaves a sigh, scrubbing a hand down his face. Reading his watch, it says 2:00 am. It doesn’t help that he’s been trying to fix his disordered sleeping. 

So, with a turn of his heel, he exits the estate, heading back to the less-than-glamorous place he calls his home. 

(open) taglist: @simplymygojo @miss-dior @kouyoumarryme @chericheriladeee

@deniixlovezelda @whitenightdreams @yoriichitsugikunii @wittyjasontodd @toj1swh0re

@antiv3nus @gojowifefrfr @alt--er--love @beabamboo @jeonwiixard

@bottomlesschaps @luna-v-roiya @lovingstudenthumancookie @toji-dabi-wife @naomikozura

@kimvmarvel @elmaa127 @frrxnyw @aldebrana @koji-akeme

@bouquetoflove @reivelmin @teal-anchor @wakasaishot @silveritydreams

@starrynights23x @cherlouu @littlebabyrae @alebrasil0101 @universal-s1ut

[teddybeartoji]

levi is very mmmmmm.. polite, when it comes to blowjobs. he will never ask you for one, he won't even hint that he might want one – if you don't initiate it first, nothing will ever happen. that doesn't mean he doesn't think about it though. dream about it, even.

he hates when the daydreams force themselves into his mind – the thought of you between his legs, eyes glued to his while you take him down your throat is enough to derail his plans for a good while. his pants grow tighter and tighter and the ability to think straight flies out the window; home alone, his tea now sits cold and untouched on the small coffee table of his living room while he succumbs to the unruly scenario playing out inside his head.

levi throws his head against the backrest and stares at the ceiling. he can almost hear the wet, disgustingly filthy noises you'd be making while having your lips around his lenght right now and he feels awful. he should be a gentleman, someone who behaves better than this, but he cannot help it.

with a low groan, he palms himself through the material of his pants with one hand while using the other to hide his face. your darling smile pops into his head, then your laugh, and he swears he's going to lose it. precum leaks through his boxers and he cringes at the mess he's making – he's not used to this, he's not used to letting his desires yank him around like this. but this is what you do to him, this is all on you.

he unwillingly thinks about the way you'd probably massage his balls and drag your tongue up alongside his shaft. how you'd rest your free hand on his oh, so sensitive thigh and how you'd stare up at him with stars in your eyes. fuck. he squeezes his fist around his base and screws his eyes shut – levi thinks about how warm your mouth would be, how tight your throat would get when you try to swallow around him. how pretty you'd look with your nose pressed against his happy trail.

the tv playing in the background goes silent in his ears as he bucks his hips up against his own palm, the image of you letting him fuck your mouth so clear in his mind that he feels like he's going to pass out; with a hand on your cheek, he'd hold you so gently and dip you in praise – it comes naturally in moments like this because as stoic he might seem, treating you right is always a priority to him. he doesn't take this lightly at all, he will never forget the affection you bestow upon him, in the bedroom and outside.

under the dim lights of his living room, curses fall from his lips as he continues to stroke himself through his pants. that's what he thinks is saving him, the thin material seperating his hand from his aching cock – this is how he convinces himself that he hasn't fully lost it yet.

(he ignores his soaked boxers.)

suddenly, a glimmer of light catches his attention from under his arm and normally, he wouldn't have given it a second thought if it hadn't been your name that popped up on it and he most certainly wouldn't have reached for it with the same hand he was palming himself with just a mere moment ago if it weren't for the ridiculous surge of excitement that flows through his body at the sight of your name.

"can i come over?"

he's glad you're not there to see the burning flush on his cheeks. he clears his throat and sends back a surprisingly fast 'of course' that unknowingly to him, makes you smile.

his dick twitches and levi's face pales. he still needs to deal with that before you arrive because he refuses to let you see him as just another horny man – all while you're on your way over, cheerfully practicing your little proposal of finally asking him whether you can make him feel good, whether he'd let you do everything he's been dreaming of.

[littlerequiem]

LEVI/F!READER/ERWIN | ROYALTY AU | PT. 1 OF 2

Having had enough of your father pushing suitor after suitor on you, you make a vow: before the night is over, you will experience pleasure on your own terms. But as the saying goes, forbidden fruit is the sweetest—and no fruit is more tempting than the one your two knights have to offer.

> Crossposted on AO3

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader / Erwin Smith (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+) - Royalty AU, Inspired by HOTD, Attempted Assault (not by Erwin/Levi!), Period-Typical Sexism, Swearing, Hurt/Comfort, Drinking, Pining, Eventual Smut, Threesome, First Time (WC: 5.5k)

"Princess Reiss, her Royal Highness, First of her Name, and Heir to the Throne of Paradis!"

The attendant bellows out your many titles, the sound of which echoes in the great halls of your forefathers. 

In the distance, a crowd has amassed where your father sits on the throne. All eyes turn as you step in, and you realize there was a reason behind your lady's maid fretting over your hair this morning.

Your eye twitches. 

Another day, another suitor.

"This is Floch Forster, your Highness," the Hand of the King declares. He bows, gesturing towards your father's latest pick. "Lord of Utopia."

The man—Floch—runs a hand through his hair as you set your gaze on him.

He's tall, you suppose, and handsome enough, with a serious face and a firm posture. But he looks at you like some trifling prize to be won, and that makes your jaw tight. You will be Queen of the Realm one day—someone he owes allegiance to, not the other way around.

He won't do.

The meeting does not go well, and you send this Floch character on his way. You can tell he's displeased, what with the way he bristles and huffs like a peacock, glares at the floor like it had personally insulted him. You don’t care; you can't imagine a union with a man like him—someone who'd never see you as his equal, but try to undermine your influence and power every step of the way.

In truth, the prospect of marriage has never appealed to you. If it were up to you, you’d ascend the throne by yourself, and rule without the presence of some man who'd expect you to push babe after babe from your womb. But, of course, as a woman, you have royal duties to uphold.

"I will not tolerate you not marrying, daughter," the King warns later on.

You're now dining with your father in the main halls—alone, aside from the presence of knights and servants. You pay neither your father nor them any mind, digging into your vegetables solemnly.

"Do you have nothing to say?" your father grumbles. "Nothing to apologize for? This is the third match you send away! Soon, the realm will run out of suitors."

You lift your cool gaze at him. You know your father means well by introducing you to suitors, that he loves you in his own way. But the way he keeps on pushing man after man on you is simply suffocating. If you were to ever marry, you would much prefer for it to be with someone you actually cared about. You'd want for things to happen naturally.

But the future of the realm, of securing a bloodline, waits for no one, least of all for you. 

"I don’t see the issue here," you say all the same. “I will marry when I find the right candidate.”

"Yes, and when will that be? When I am dead and buried underground?"

You roll your eyes. "Really, must you be so dramatic, father?"

“You are the reason your father is so dramatic!” Now he stands. No longer is the look he sends one a father gives his daughter—no, this is the look that a king gives his subject. “My advisors tell me I am too lenient with you, but long have I ignored their plights. Now, I see that I have been blind.”

“And what of my plights, Father?" you hiss. "Do I have no say in my future? What if I wished to rule alone?”

“Your plights are of no consequence to the realm, foolish girl. A woman cannot rule alone.” Your father’s jaw locks, tight as a bowstring. “You will marry before this year is over. Is that understood?”

You scoff. "You cannot possibly—"

“Oh, but I can because I am your king and when I speak, my word is law,” he snarls, slamming a fist on the table. A jug of water tips over—neither of you pay attention to it. A servant scurries to handle the mess. “You either listen to me now, or I will force you down the aisle myself until you produce heirs of your own.”

His threat hang in the air. You feel its weight on you, like physical chains summoned around your wrists. It makes you grit your teeth, setting your glare onto your curled fists laid out on your laps.

The tension could be cut open.

You push your chair back, the feet rattling against the stone ground, and stand up. “Fine,” you sneer as you turn away, “breed me like a brooding mare, if that’s all you care about.” 

Your father grates out your first name. "And where do you think you're going? We aren't done."

"But we are!" You swerve your attention back on him, shooting him a look of absolute vitriol. You don't remember the last time you had such an argument with him. "I'm going back to my books, while I still have the liberty to read freely."

"Daughter—"

“—or will you take that right away now, too?"

At your words, your father's eyes gleam furiously; his voice is cold as ice. "This is not the end of this. You will marry, and if you don't make a choice soon, I will make it for you."

You say nothing in return, letting the echo of your scattered footsteps be the answer to your father’s penance.

As you exit the halls that night, you don't see the worried looks your two guards exchange as they follow you out. 

You’ve already got a plan brewing.  

You do not go back to your books.

As soon as you’re inside your chambers, you lock the door shut, only to hurl a nearby vase across the room. It shatters in a hundred pieces, but it gives you none of the relief you thought it might. With blood pumping through your veins; you heave like you just escaped an apex predator’s claws.

You grit your teeth. 

It’s all so unfair. That your father expects you to fall back into line, to do as he says, simply because he commands it. Has he forgotten the child you once were, or does he simply refuse to see the real you?

Damn him. Damn this whole system that cursed you the moment you were born. Another princess might have wept or accepted her fate, but not you. 

Tonight, you’ll break free. 

“Princess?” a concerned voice comes from the other side of the thick wooden door.

It is soon followed by two knocks, slow and firm. The voice belongs to one man, the knocks to another. Your guards.

"Leave me,” you tell them. “I do not wish to be disturbed,"

The two men, Erwin Smith and Levi Ackerman, have known you since childhood . They understand you well enough to recognize that you're not actually fine, but thankfully, they seem to respect your need for privacy. Erwin lets you know they’re just outside the door if you need anything. You already know you won’t call for them. 

Not tonight. 

No, tonight, they can’t follow you down this path. Despite being lifelong friends, this journey is one you must make alone.

You eye the corner of your chambers. 

There is a secret passage just behind the bookcase of your bedroom. It is not known by many—just you and your guards. It is the same passageway you would often take to meet Levi and Erwin in secret, to watch them spar on the training field, to talk about books and dreams when all still seemed within your grasp.

It seems you must grasp one more dream for yourself.

The streets of Mitras are lively in the evenings.

Filled with jesters and children, dancers and sell-swords, merchants and entertainers, there is much that is happening tonight. The thick stench of sweat and mud, the taste of tart pie and mead, the sound of songs and gossip. It paints a study in the everyday lives of common folks.

On any other day, you might have stopped to observe your future subjects, but not tonight. As you make your way further down the web of the city, you feel equal parts thrilled and anxious. This is the first time you’re out without your guards, after all; you can’t help but feel bare without them. It makes you glance over your shoulders. Clad in a cloak with a dagger and bag strapped to your hip, you know to remain prudent. 

You’re on a mission, after all, one that is personal, and you do not wish to be stopped.

Sex.

The concept isn’t foreign to you. You know what coupling is; you’ve seen peaks of it in stories, behind closed doors. You know that sex isn’t simply something that people do to procreate, but that it is immense pleasure. Men and women do it, but also men and men, women and women, and all genders that come in between.

You think that this is what pushed you to step out of the comfort of your room tonight. Pleasure, with someone who would be willing to do it for you—not because you must, but because you both want to.

Only now that you’re here, you falter. The Perfumed Quarters, where you now stand, carry the finest brothels. You’re certain that with the coin you carry, you might find one that would be discreet enough to give you the pleasures you desire. Man or woman, you would have your pick.

But are you really daring enough to do this?

You close your eyes, fidgeting with your hands as you eye the entrance door. You had a glass of whiskey before leaving—some liquid courage for the road—but now, you suddenly wish you’d taken the entire bottle with you.

"Hullo there, pretty thin’," slurs a voice close to your ears. The stench of alcohol that permeates makes your stomach wrench. You glance up, meeting the face of a man gazing at you with clear interest. "My, y'ar quite the sight. Skin like velvet..."

He reaches out to touch your face, but you flinch back. 

"Dressed so prettily too, under that cloak... Are ya one of the whores working here, hm? An escaped rabbit from her cage?"

Your brows knit together. "You misunderstand, sire. I'm not a working woman. I simply—"

The man does not listen, seizing one of your wrists. Your brows scrunch low, and with your free hand, you grab the dagger, showing him you're no helpless thing. 

A callous bark rumbles out of him. “Is’tis part of the act, hah? The little rabbit has fangs, and I get to eat ya whole?”

Before you have a chance to show him just how real your fangs are, your peripheral catches a flash of silver. Before you realize it, a long blade, cutting the space between the two of you, brands a path dangerously close to the man’s throat. 

"Get your filthy hands off of her."

Your body freezes; you recognize that baritone tone. 

Sure enough, no later than a second after, your peripheral catches sight of Levi and his golden cloak. He’s the one delivering the threat, though you soon realize he’s not alone: Erwin, to his right, assesses the situation with a sharp gaze. 

Your lips part, eyes rounding at the sight of them. How they found you, you know not, but you know that you're in for one a hell of a talk.

"Golden cloaked guards from the palace." The stranger's eyes are wide with fear as he stares back at you. "But that means, you must be..."

"No one you need to concern yourself with," Levi says dryly, stepping in between you and the man, "now, I won't repeat myself, if you wanna live—scram."

The knot in the man's throat bobs uncertainly, but he seizes his chance while he still can—he scurries away. You scowl, watching his retreating form. You know Levi only let him go to avoid stirring attention, but that criminal deserved a lot worse than what he got. Under your rule, you'll make sure the people working these streets receive better protection from people like him.

You do not get time to consider this matter for very long, however, because you’re soon reminded of your guards' presences. You turn towards them, face devoid of emotions. 

Levi's eyes narrow. "Explain." 

“Not here.” Erwin steps closer to you as well, looking over his shoulder. “We’re drawing unwanted attention.”

Levi sheathes back his sword, his glare still directed at you. “Fine. Let’s go then.”

Despite their words, you stay rooted to your spot.

“It wasn’t a request.” Levi turns, clearly exasperated. He grabs your wrist.

You grit your teeth, glaring at him. You know better than to argue with either of them right now, but you don't appreciate him manhandling you like a piece of meat. 

“I will once you unhand me,” you hiss.

Levi’s gaze levels with you, looking at you like you were glass. He finally released you, but not without his own flair; he crosses his arms over his chest, staring at you like he expects you to make a run for it, to fight him on this.

You roll your eyes; how dramatic. Even if you could somehow outrun them, your bravado for tonight has all but vanished. 

And so, you diligently follow them, with Erwin leading, while Levi walks behind you. Both of them are quiet on the walk back, the sound of their armors clinking through the cobblestone streets of the city. Neither wish to attract attention to the fact that they were escorting the future queen of the realm, heading straight into the castle's back way passage.

It is the calm before the storm.

"What the hell were you thinking, Princess?" is the first thing Levi says the moment he ceremoniously drags you into your chambers, hand firmly attached to your elbow.

Levi forces the cloak and weapon off of you, a glint in his eyes that makes it clear he's pissed.

You glare at him, ripping your arm away from him.

Out of your two guards, Levi Ackerman is always the one quickest to rile up. You think he has a bad temper and a mouth that ought to be washed with soap. For this reason, you often bicker with him, partly because you're often too prideful to admit defeat, but also because you secretly enjoy the banter.

Tonight, however, you do not have the will to fight.

"I do not know, Levi." You sigh, heading towards your vanity to place down your bag. "I just wished to wander by myself, I suppose." 

"Into the Perfumed Quarters? Don't you know what business goes on in that part of town?"

You whip your head around. "Of course I know. I'm not an idiot."

"Really?" Levi sneers. "Could've fooled me, Princess."

He pops the p in your title, just the way he knows you hate it. Your eyes narrow. 

"Let her regain her breath, Levi," Erwin interrupts, effectively breaking apart this building feud. He's made sure to close every door, every window, shut. He sidesteps the broken vase, the pieces of which are still scattered by the entrance. "I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation for all of this."

Erwin observes you, seeking to understand. He's different from Levi in that way. He's more patient, more calm than his counterpart. Still, under that mask of stillness lurks a cleverness that you've learned not to take lightly.

You hate this—hate that you've ended up caught red-handed by these two men, by your friends. How did they even notice you were missing? You thought you were being discreet.

Knowing them, they probably defied your orders and checked on you, only to discover your treachery. You sigh, cursing yourself inwardly. Out of everyone who might have caught you, why did it have to be them? This feels like a cruel joke from the Gods. 

The three of you grew up together. First as a girl and two young squires, later as a princess and her two knights. Yours is a relationship forged in friendship, in trust, in loyalty. Where the princess goes, so does her two guards. There is no one she trusts more.

You've heard the whispers over the years. The words that rivals in court like to spin—those who'd rather slit their throats than see a woman like you sit on the throne. A whore, the little birds whisper. A princess that dared to lower herself by opening her legs not to one, but to both her guards.

None of it is true, of course.

But perhaps it is the spirit from earlier that emboldens you, but you find yourself wishing it were, to at least have this part of yourself that would be yours.

"Earth to the princess of the realm," Levi's chastising voice echoes in your ears. One of your eye twitches. "What the hell were you doing tonight? Don't you know what those places offer?"

“Of course I know, Levi. Did you ever consider that I sought such an establishment for that exact purpose?”

“...What?”

It is no secret that Levi’s mother was a prostitute. You know he doesn’t see the job of a working woman or man as lesser, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t look down on people who take advantage of workers and enable establishments from profiting off their labor. 

It must bother him, your words.

You try to soften the blow, because you don't want to lose his good opinion of you, whatever it may be. "I did my research, Levi. I picked one run by a woman, one that treats its workers fairly, with good compensations and living conditions."

"But, why the hell are you looking to... to go to a brothel? You've never… your chasteness—"

"Fuck my chasteness."

Levi’s brows knit together, though the rest of his face looks more in a stupor than anything else. You, on the other hand, are now filled with explosive emotions.

"Why did you seek such a place, your Highness?" Erwin finally speaks up, his smooth voice easing some of the tension in your shoulders. "Why not talk to us about it first?"

Your eyes flicker towards him. There's Erwin. Level-headed, calm, clever Erwin. Always asking just the question you most wished he didn't.

"Because…” you hesitate, “because I wish to know what it is like. I wish for things to be my decision for once, to decide how and where I..."

You close your mouth, feeling yourself growing hot. You know you shouldn't say these words to them. A princess shouldn't want pleasure. A princess shouldn't sneak off to seek a brothel. And a princess should especially not discuss such matters with her two male guards.

They both fall silent, which only renders the situation more awkward.

"You could have at least asked one of us to accompany you," Erwin suggests.

"Would you?" Your gaze is that of tepid coolness. "Would you have let me go?"

At that, both your guards seem a little torn. Levi's eternal frown hasn't wavered, while Erwin's eyes are intently on you, as if you were some puzzle needing to be solved.

You swallow, sitting at the edge of your bed, interlacing your fingers into a knot.

"You heard my father earlier. Soon, I will have no choice. I will marry. And I know it is my duty, I know it. But the idea of someone forcibly taking this part of myself before I am ready to give it up makes me ill. So yes, I went into town. Because I wanted to find this side of myself on my own."

Silence falls. You feel their gaze on you, heated and intense. You look at them. Their expressions tell you enough.

"You see," you say bitterly, "even if I had told you, you would have stopped me." 

Steps usher towards you. In a heartbeat, Erwin is kneeling in front of you, eye-level with you. His gaze speaks of compassion, of soft understanding. "It is because we worry for you, your Highness. We've known each other since all three of us were children. We do not wish to see you harmed at the hands of a stranger."

For some reason, Erwin's words make you glance at Levi. You wish to know if Erwin's words ring true. 

Levi clears his throat, a pout forming on his lips. "Princess, not every lover is created equal. You should... you deserve to know someone who pleases you."

Something heavy fills in your chest.

“And a brothel wouldn’t give that to me?” you ask in a crestfallen tone. “Aren’t they trained in the art of love-making?”

“That is not for us to say, or to judge,” Erwin answers. “But it doesn’t stop us from worrying.”

You stare at your bare hands, reeling them into a fist over your lap. This whole situation feels so deeply unfair.

“Tell me, why must my body be used for breeding grounds?” you ask, more to yourself than to anyone else. “Why must my value only be placed for what’s between my legs?”

Erwin stands back up, his presence a warm shadow on your side. To your surprise, both he and Levi take a seat next to you, with you in between them. 

"Princess, it is not for us to voice what is right or wrong." Erwin places a hand over yours; it sends jitters straight to your stomach. "But we wish for you to be safe."

Next to you, Levi interlaces his fingers on his laps. You can't help but notice how clean and well-trimmed his nails are, compared to even your own. How gentle his fingers look, amidst a sea of armor. You wish he'd place one of his hands on top of yours, just to feel both his and Erwin's touch at the same time. 

"You have known me since I was young,” you say. “Don't you grieve for who I used to be? Who I could have become? Why must I let some stranger do what he likes with me—”

You stop talking, feeling nausea churning in your belly. Clearly, you’re saying things you shouldn’t.

But this is Levi and Erwin. Somehow, with them, words always come out easier. With them, things have always come easier. Natural.

“Princess.” Erwin squeezes your hand. You still don’t look at him, but you admire his broad fingers, filled with scars that speak of past battles. “You know we will defend you no matter what. If your future husband forces you—”

"But what if I never want him? What if I want you both instead—"

You don't finish your sentence. Sandwiched between them, their breaths caressing your bare skin like silk, it's hard to think. 

To your surprise, Levi is the first one to speak up, "Finish what you were about to say."

Your eyes flicker to him. He's close. His gray eyes are relentless and charged, defying you to speak, like a great storm gathering in the distance. And his lips—

Are moving.

"Tell us," Levi says again, grating out your name. 

But you've never been one to say what you want directly—you've never been allowed to. Now that Levi is asking you to tell him, you hesitate. You raise a hand to your face, concealing your shame. "I'm sorry. I know that the two of you are, well, together. I don't know what's gotten into me. I don't know why I'm saying these things to you."

You know what the two of them are. Lovers. You know it to be true, because you see the way they look at one another, the way they talk. You’ve long felt envy in your heart—not at one of them in particular, but wishing you could be a part of it. Wishing that they would embrace you with open arms.

The truth is, you love them. You’ve loved them for a long, long time.

And you suddenly wonder: was this what you were seeking to find tonight? Did you simply search for them in others?

"Princess, we've both—" Erwin's voice beckons you back to the present. Your gaze falls on him. He tilts his head, smiling softly. "We have long known how we both feel about you. If duties and titles were shirked away, don't you know what we would have done by now?"

It is a bold thing he is saying—what a guard is saying to his princess. He could be exiled for such a statement, or worse. But Erwin has always been a bold man, one that takes gambles.

You just never thought you'd actually see the day where he would take a chance on you.

Before you can move, fingers slip between your own, filled with questions. You watch as Erwin carefully runs his thumb over your knuckles, gently turns your hand on his lap.

Instinctively, your head turns towards Levi, afraid that you'll find betrayal on his face for the way his lover is touching you. 

Wrong.

Instead, Levi's eyelids are half-lidded, an intensity to his expression as he assesses your every movement. It turns the spikes in your belly to butterflies.

"I..."

"Just say it." Levi says your first name again, like it was a prayer that would bring absolution to his sins. "Just give us the command."

But you do not wish for this to be a princess' command. You wish for it to be a woman and two men, bound in pleasure and feelings.

"I wish for your touch," you hesitate, "but not because I command it, but because you wish for it. Otherwise, let us never speak of this again. We can forget and—"

You mean to stand back up.

But a warm hand—Erwin's—snakes up to the back of your neck, forcing you to turn in his direction. 

And then his lips meet yours.

He kisses you. 

He kisses you... and your mouth parts in surprise, feeling a buzz of energy vibrate across your body, a path of tingling sensation scattering upwards like dozens of tiny birds flapping their wings. Erwin's kiss is chaste and innocent, like a schoolboy kisses a crush. Soon enough, he leans away, vibrant blue eyes gauging your reaction, and when you stare at him, slightly disoriented, he smiles.

He should have known you’d want more. You’re a spoiled thing, after all, used to the finer things.

Which is why you grab him by the collar and demand another kiss.

Erwin's chest vibrates as he chuckles, and his hands gently fall on your waist as he reciprocates the kiss. His lips open up to you, like a flower blooming under the sun. His thumb fumbles with the thick of your dress, a gentle sigh escaping his lips as you lean away.

A lopsided grin graces his lips and you can't help but return it.

"Forgetting about me, already?" comes a drawl from behind. 

You turn to Levi, amused at his impatience. He's got a brow raised, staring at both of you with a slight pout on his lips. The sight makes you stare back fondly. 

"I would never," you say.  

Levi’s flicker to your lips. Where Erwin was bold and self-assured, Levi is more prudent, like he thought you might catch on fire if you touch him. 

And so, you make sure to set you both ablaze by pressing your lips to his. 

For a moment, nothing happens, Levi just sits there, frozen.

And then, like a switch happening in his mind, Levi's hands fall to your jaw, his fingers winding into your hair, along your scalp. His restraint slips past him as he slides his tongue into your mouth, warm and alive. Your mind reels from the sensation, so different to Erwin’s softness. Levi tastes like black tea, the kind you always see him drink each morning. Levi pushes into you, making you bump against Erwin’s broad chest, and your heartbeat soars the moment you feel Erwin’s steady hands on your shoulders.

Who knew that kissing could feel so lovely, so intoxicating? Who knew what it would be like to feel the embrace of two lovers, of the two people your heart has yearned for?

Levi groans against your lips, his fingers cupping the valleys of your cheeks. Your movement pushes you further onto Erwin, forcing him to lie down as the bed creaks under your combined weight.

When Erwin chuckles, his husky voice vibrates against the back of your skull.

"Ngh —s-slow down, Levi," you huff. "I'm suffocating." 

"Can you blame him?" Erwin says languidly, the back of his fingers brushing across your exposed forearms. "You're a delight."

Levi finally slides away, his blown-out pupils taking in the sight. You, all disheveled, resting against Erwin, whose eyes gleam with knowing pride, with love. The knot in Levi's throat bobs. What a sight he has in front of him, for only him. 

With a swift hand, Levi undoes his cravat, neatly folding it and placing it on the nightstand. When he comes back at the end of the edge of your bed, he stands there, assessing you with hawk-like seriousness.

Shyly, you offer him your hand.

He takes it.

Without saying a word, you guide him back to his seat, nudging Erwin upright with your other hand. Slowly, you intertwine their fingers together, overlapping them on your lap. You watch with evident admiration at the marvel of golden, calloused skin blending with slender pale fingers, the expanse of their knuckles filled with scars that's a testament to their pledges as your knights.

A smile creeps on your face. Both your lovers watch as you lean back, propping yourself on your elbows while they stay seated upright at the edge of your bed.

"Now it's your turn," you tell them, “… if you want."

Understanding flashes on their faces, though it manifests differently for each of them. On Levi, it comes across as perplexed hesitation, looking from you to Erwin, like he didn’t think you'd want to witness this. Erwin, however, seems to have seen this coming, because his mouth twitches as he bends down to capture Levi's lips with complete confidence.

Levi outright melts into Erwin's touch.

You'd long imagined the two of them like this, kissing. Hands exploring one and another, lips moving in perfect accordion, eyes fluttering shut.

But seeing it now , shared with you… it’s something else.

You love them. You love them so very much.

Because there’s so much adoration, respect, and mutual understanding to be seen here. Erwin’s patience, taking and enjoying, contrasted with Levi’s desire to be filled and devoured, all in the span of this little shared space that now belongs to the three of you.

When they break apart, you are certain your eyes are hazy with desire.

"We got a bit carried away," Levi mutters.

You hum. "I liked it." 

You swear a hint of pink kisses his cheeks.

"So we're really doing this?" Levi grumbles. His eyes gleam on you, dark and heady. "It is a sacrilege, what you are doing, Princess. You are debasing yourselves with two people who are far beneath your station. We are not worthy to defile you."

You frown, looking from him to Erwin, searching for an answer on how to make it right. Erwin’s face is blank, and you understand it is up to you to convince Levi, not him.

You reach out for his hand.

"Levi," you say softly, sliding up next to him. Behind, Erwin's fingers brush the nape of your neck, as if to praise you for this step. You look into Levi’s eyes, earnest and true. "In this life, there are not many things that will be mine to pick. So, please... would you be mine?"

Levi melts at your platitude, He takes in the rest of you. You, with swollen lips and hearts in your eyes, must look like quite the delight.

“The two of you are the same,” Levi says, leaning closer with vibrant eyes. “So damn corny.”

You let out a chortle that sounds more disbelief than it does laughter. Levi and his wild mouth. You still think it ought to be washed by soap, though you suppose that it’s got its charms. 

Levi leans back, removing his shoes. Next to him, Erwin chuckles, reaching to unclasp his own armor. Like a giddy young girl, you help them, picking up each piece of worn leather and laying it at the base of the bed, making sure it is all neatly ordered for them to easily dress afterward. Once finished, the two men then take their turns disrobing the outer layer of your dress, with Levi grumbling, “how do you even breathe in this thing?” until you are clad in nothing but your chemise.

You shiver. This is the barest you've ever been in their presence, a vulnerability that feels both thrilling and intimate. 

For safe measure, you lock the doors—this time, you know no one will interrupt. Only you, Erwin, and Levi have a set of keys.

When you turn back around, Erwin and Levi are both gazing at you, their eyes charged with an intensity that makes your chest lock. They inspect you like you inspect them, their eyes sweeping over your form. A lifetime of knowledge, of love, of duty, and honor, hangs behind this moment, this relationship. It pulses in the air, a recognition that this, right now, is a turning point for all three of you.

Because tonight changes everything. 

And you’re prepared to let it.

Next (and final) part coming next Thursday (:

— Masterlist / Fic Playlist / Taglist

[littlerequiem]

Taglist crew, hope you enjoy this one 👑⚔️

@sixpennydame, @zoozvie, @malevolentghoul, @blinkingsuns, @shiyuko, @youre-ackermine, @thechaoticarchivist, @ttrashaange111, @odysseyofcirce

[becertainlust-deactivated202510]

BLOOMS | Levi Ackerman

synopsis: Speak up!

content: smut

You knew what you were doing when you said it.

Casually, offhand, as if it wasn’t bait you were dangling right in front of a man known for discipline and deadly precision.

“All that muscle, and you still don’t have stamina,” you murmur, arms crossed over your chest as you lean in the doorway of the bedroom. “I find it cute, honestly.”

Levi’s glance lifts slowly from the papers in his hand. That brow arches — subtle, unimpressed — and you feel your pulse spike.

He says nothing at first. He just sets the file down, rises from the chair like a shadow, calm and slow. Controlled. Calculated.

And then you’re backing up, because he's walking toward you with that look — the one that makes your knees weak and you suffer for dry mouth.

You don’t make it far.

The backs of your knees hit the bed. His hands cup your face— not squishing, just gentle. He dragged it down your body to the buttons of you blouse, slipping his hands under your nightwear.

“Say that again,” he breathes, voice like crushed velvet and threat. “I dare you.”

You blink up at him. Defiant. But not dumb.

“…Maybe I’ll take it back.”

He doesn’t give you the chance.

You hit the bed with a thud — not rough, but assertive — and he’s on you in a blur, pinning you beneath him, kissing you hard enough to bruise. He strips you with one hand, pants gone, shirt discarded, like you’re being unwrapped in fast forward.

“You wanna talk about stamina?” he grunts, "look how wet you are , barely need any prep" he slowly sinks two fingers into you without preamble. “Let’s see how many times I can make you cum before your voice goes hoarse.”

Your back arches, a moan spilling out of you so quick it embarrasses you. He’s already working you open, cruelly slow, teasing your entrance before curling his fingers in just the right spot.

You’re already breathless when he finally shoves himself inside you — not gentle, not slow, just deep. You cry out, clawing at his shoulders as he sets a brutal rhythm, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the room.

“Still think I’ve got bad stamina?” he hisses, grabbing a fistful of your hair to pull your head back. You can’t even answer — too busy moaning, choking on your own breath.

When he pulls out, you whine from the loss — but he just flips you over and sits back against the headboard, panting slightly, cock still hard and slick from your arousal.

“Get on,” he orders, voice rough. “Since you like to run your mouth so much — show me how well you can use your hips.”

You straddle him, legs trembling as you lower yourself onto his dick, trying to muffle your voice as he fills you again. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you start to move — slow at first, but quickly building pace. He lets you take over. Watches you through half-lidded eyes, the hint of a smirk on his lips like he owns you.

And he does. Because when the pleasure starts to crest again, you lose control. You ride him harder. Sloppier. Desperate and high-pitched, moaning his name like it’s the only word you know.

“That’s it,” he growls, hands gripping your ass, guiding you. “Use me. Fuck yourself stupid.”

And you do — chasing the orgasm like your life depends on it, slamming down on his cock over and over until you’re sobbing, writhing, body spasming around him as your climax rips through you like a scream in the dark.

Your thighs are trembling. Sweat drips down your spine. You’re so close—but not close enough.

Levi watches from below, cool and composed, even as your hips stutter and your moans crack from exhaustion.

“You wanted to ride,” he murmurs, voice low, maddeningly calm. His hands rest lazily on your hips, letting you do the work, even though your rhythm’s long gone. “Don’t stop now.”

You whimper, trying — trying — to lift yourself and drop down again, but your legs barely cooperate. Your body is jelly, and all you can do is grind down into him, clit catching at the base of his cock with each shaky roll of your hips.

It’s torture. The kind that makes tears prick your lashes.

“I c-can’t,” you stammer, voice broken and needy. “Levi… I can’t—fuck—I’m too tired…”

“You talk too much,” he says flatly. “But when it matters, you get shy?”

You bury your face in his shoulder, clinging to him as your hips jerk and drag against him pathetically. You’re soaked, fluttering around him, aching for release—but you need him to do it. Need his strength. His power. The way he ruins you like it’s a duty only he knows how to fulfill.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please, Levi—pound me, fuck me—I can’t—need you to do it—need you to f-fuck me, better.”

That gets his attention. Your voice barely held up on the last syllable when you his dick twitched, your pussy tightening witha breathy moan.

His hands tighten at your waist, and his voice drops an octave — that warning edge returning.

“Say it again.”

Your body pulses with want. Shame, heat, arousal all tangled in one. You lift your head, eyes glassy, and give him everything.

“Please fuck me, Levi,” you beg. “I’m too tired—I can’t do it—I need you to ruin me.”

He exhales slowly, like you’ve just answered a question right on a test he wrote himself.

“Feeling that good?.”

He grabs your hips and slams up into you.

Your entire body arches, a strangled moan ripping out of your throat as he starts pounding into you from below — merciless and deep, the sound of skin meeting skin loud and filthy. You’re not even riding anymore. You’re just being used — his cock spearing into you with punishing precision, over and over, while he holds you in place and fucks you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“Look at you,” he snarls. “Falling apart on my cock after talking shit. This what you wanted?”

You can’t even answer. You're whining with pleasure, nails digging into his shoulders, mouth slack as your body clutches him, spasming around him as the orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave.

Levi groans — sharp, guttural — and thrusts up one last time, spilling inside you with a hiss, his grip bruising, his breath harsh against your throat.

Your body’s still twitching, overstimulated and wrecked, chest pressed against his, lips parted where they rest against his neck. You’re barely breathing through the soft whimpers spilling from your throat — and that’s when Levi shifts.

One slow thrust.

Deep.

You gasp, whole body jerking as he pushes back inside you again. Your pussy clamps down, still fluttering from the orgasm he just tore out of you. It’s too much — and yet not enough. He’s not slamming into you anymore. No, now he’s savoring it. Drawing it out.

He pulls almost all the way out, leaving just the thick tip inside your soaked cunt — and then he slides back in, slow and steady, letting you feel every inch.

Your back arches, a sob catching in your throat.

“Still sensitive?” he murmurs, voice a hoarse whisper against your temple. “Too bad.”

Another slow, deep thrust. And then another. Every movement makes your thighs twitch around his waist. Your legs try to close, but his hands are there, holding you open — forcing you to feel every drag of his cock through your overstimulated core.

You cry out, face buried in his neck, hand gripping the pillow again.

“L-Levi,” you breathe, eyes fluttering, lashes wet, “I can’t— I c-can’t take more—”

“Yes, you can.” His voice is low. Calm. Cruel in how composed he stays while your body comes undone again. “You’re gonna take all of me. Nice and slow. Until I decide you’ve had enough.”

He rolls his hips into you again, the slow grind so intimate it’s maddening. Your nails scrape along his shoulder, your walls squeezing around him involuntarily with every inch he presses in.

“You feel that?” he breathes into your ear. “That’s me. Still hard. Still deep. Still not finished.”

You’re sobbing now — needy, desperate, eyes rolling again as he keeps thrusting in those long, slow strokes that push all the way in and drag all the way out. It’s like he’s memorizing the inside of you. Letting you feel the weight of what he’s done. What he’s still doing.

And when your body starts to tremble again — building toward another release you weren’t ready for — Levi just smirks against your throat.

“That’s it,” he says softly, darkly. “You’re gonna cum for me again. Slow this time. Deep. Messy.”

You shake your head, but your body betrays you — hips rising to meet his, mouth slack, moans broken.

You’re shaking. Every inch of you feels like it’s vibrating, barely stitched together by will alone. Two orgasms already tore through you like a storm, leaving your muscles twitching and your thoughts scattered.

And Levi’s still inside you. Still moving.

Not fast—no. He’s slow now. Measured. Deep enough that every time he thrusts, your breath hitches from the way he drags over that raw, sensitive spot inside you.

“Levi…” you croak, voice barely above a whisper, lips pressed to his shoulder. “I don’t… I don’t think I can come again.”

His pace doesn’t change.

You grip his shoulders, as if anchoring yourself could somehow slow the unbearable buildup crawling back under your skin.

His hand curls around the back of your thigh again, pulling your leg higher up his hip, exposing more of you to him. His hips roll in a way that makes your whole body jolt.

“Then use the safeword,” he murmurs into your ear, calm. Controlled.

You freeze.

He doesn’t push, doesn’t taunt—just offers the option like it’s always been there. And it has been. It is.

But you don’t say it.

You bite down on a whimper instead, fisting the pillow behind his head, still clinging to him like you’re afraid you’ll fall apart without him.

He shifts just slightly, adjusting his angle, and the next thrust makes your back arch on instinct, hips chasing the feeling despite everything in you saying you’re too sensitive, too overwhelmed.

“You’re not saying it,” he mutters, low and steady. “So I’m going to keep going.”

He pulls out slowly, deliberately—only to stop right at your entrance, holding you there, the thick head of his cock barely nudging your slick heat.

You whimper again, hips twitching.

He’s testing you now. Teasing, giving you space to decide. And all you can do is press yourself against him, trembling and pliant.

Your mouth finds his jaw, brushing against his skin, breath stuttering against the heat of him.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, like a confession.

“Thought you couldn’t take more.”

“I lied,” you breathe, lips barely moving. “I want it—need it, please…”

His hand slides from your thigh to your ass, spreading you open as he sinks back into you in one smooth stroke. The sensation makes you cry out, fingers digging into his shoulder. You're so sensitive it’s like you can feel every vein, every inch of him—too much and not enough all at once.

You cling to him again, your lips brushing his temple, his neck, his ear. You're not even sure what you're saying anymore—just a mess of slurred praise and desperate begging, grounding yourself in the shape of him, the sound of his breathing, the deep burn that coils tighter and tighter with each thrust.

Levi groans low and keeps his pace steady, grounding you with the weight of his body and the low rasp of his voice in your ear.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, each word timed with a slow, deliberate thrust. “One more. That’s all I want.”

And even though you told him you couldn’t… your body betrays you.

The build happens again. Unstoppable. Hot and sharp and overwhelming. You bury your face in his shoulder, trying to muffle the noises you can’t control as that third orgasm crashes into you with a sob and a shudder.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until he slows down and murmurs something soft into your hair, hands still steady, still grounding you as your body convulses around him.

Time stops mattering.

It’s just you and him—your heart thudding against his, your breath catching in hiccuped sobs, and his voice low, reassuring, solid in your ear.

“You did so good?,” he whispered, keeping him self buried to the base, he knows he's being greedy but a little longer.

[oxytxn]

LEVI just loves the way you look when he’s got you in a mating press. with your plush thighs slung over his shoulders, your toes curling from his hips snapping against yours, and his navel hitting your clit perfectly, you can’t help by cry out his name. he’s panting against your lips as he murmurs almost incoherently how badly he wants a baby with you.

“please,” you whine, “gimme a baby.”

he grunts as his eyes flutter shut. he’s always been so weak for you—it was such a stark contrast to his usual demeanor, but god, he just couldn’t help it.

“‘m gonna cum,” he grunts, “tell me to pull out.”

“inside.” you clench around him, milking him of everything he has. and for you, he’d give you the whole world.

he lets out the faintest little whimper as he fucks you both through your orgasms, making sure to plug you full of his babies, in hopes that just one sticks and your belly grows so round and pretty for him.

to my lovely mutual @knightofwands-upright ᢉ𐭩

masterlist.

mdni. do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©oxytxn 2025.

[dollbrbie-deactivated20250918]

thinking about levi as your provider boyfriend (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

boyfriend!levi is such a provider, absolutely refusing to let you put a dime towards anything. whether it’s date nights, paying the rent or utility bills, or even when it comes to your makeup, clothes and whatever else you waste levi’s money on, there’s always a harsh glare that comes your way when you suggest paying for something.

he just hates the idea of his pretty girlfriend putting her money towards something when all levi wants to do is spoil you and take care of you, wanting nothing more than to give you a comfortable life with no worries.

so, he definitely struggles putting his foot down when it comes to you, never having the heart to say no to you when you look at him with an excited and happy expression talking about whatever it is you want, levi already pulling out his card from his wallet.

but you always thank him in the best way possible, straddling your boyfriend as you bounce up and down on his cock as your pussy sucks him in with need, eliciting a groan from levi’s lips while grabbing the plush of your hips, guiding you.

“shit- baby.”, he hisses as he feels your walls flutter around his cock, his orgasm so close from tipping over as he tightens his grip slightly on your hips.

“oh- m’ gonna cum..”, you mewl with your head thrown back and your eyes rolling back, your throbbing clit dragging along levi’s pelvis as you sink down further on his cock.

“yeah? c’mon, cum f’me.”, levi says through breathy moans, bucking his hips upwards and colliding with yours as his cock continues to throb against your eager walls.

soon follows your overwhelming orgasm, your legs giving out as your hips stutter from the tingling sensation running down your spine, levi’s name falling from your lips through pretty moans. it doesn’t stop levi, who continues to fuck you through your orgasm before feeling himself empty out inside of your gummy walls.

“fuck..” he mutters, leaning his head back on the headboard of your shared bed and rubbing soothing circles on your thighs, “you okay?”

you nod with dried tears down your cheeks, levi’s thumb rubbing over them as he pulls you closer and catching your lips with his before mumbling, “good.”

and he can’t help but smirk against your lips when he feels the way your pussy clenches around his shaft one last time. god, he loves the way you thank him for treating you so well.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[acmeangel]

You wake up to the scent of tea. Not the bitter black kind that Levi drinks, but something softer—herbal, floral, sweet, the kind that comes in frilly pink and purple pastel packaging, that he only buys for you. Even though he grumbles and says it “tastes like damn grass.” You turn your head to see it on the nightstand, light liquid steeping in an ornate, ceramic teacup, steam curling up and kissing the air before disappearing. Next to it is a plate of apple slices—cut more meticulously than necessary—and two pieces of bread. Knowing Levi, the number is a deliberate choice, based on the trial-and-error of how your body had reacted to all the breakfasts he’d given you over the few weeks of your pregnancy so far.

Levi is sitting in the chair by the bed, his own black tea in hand. His eyes flick up when you shift under the blankets.

"You gonna eat, or are you just gonna stare at it then complain when the tea’s too cold and the apples are brown?” But there’s no bite to his words—just his own, Levi-brand of concern.

You roll your eyes and make a noise akin to a laugh, but reach for the tea anyway. "Good morning, grumpy." Your voice is raspy from disuse, and though he never said it directly, he liked being the one who got to hear your first words every morning.

He hums and doesn’t say anything else, just watches intently as you sip your tea and eat your breakfast. You can feel him monitoring every sip, every bite, tracking how much you’ve eaten and seeing if any of it upsets your stomach.

He's been like this since the day you told him you were pregnant—making mental notes as he watches you, sucking his teeth every time he notices a new symptom, making sure you don’t push yourself too hard. (Even though his version of ‘too hard’ is if you stand up too quickly or bend over to pick something up.)

You nibble at a piece of bread, and he watches until he's satisfied with the sight of you eating without retching.

“Keep going,” he murmurs as he lifts his own tea to his lips, not so much a demand as it is an encouragement.

He’s pragmatic in the way he cares for you—not too vocal about it, but you notice the changes in his behavior, in the things he does.

A new, heavier quilt that magically appeared at the end of your bed one day after you’d mentioned, off-hand, that you’d been getting cold at night. Pillows tucked behind your back when you were sitting on the couch, at the dinner table, against the headboard of the bed, which he’d fluff and reposition one, two, three times. Cabinets full of herbal blends of tea and every snack you’d mentioned craving, even if he knew that your cravings were fickle and fleeting. If you’d so much as crinkle your nose at a snack he placed in front of you, even if it had been your favorite only the day before, he’d swap it out for something else before you could protest.

Levi has never been soft. Not in the way others tend to be when they’re in love. But you notice things. And, more importantly, you feel the way he loves you.

You felt it when you could tell that he actively slowed his pace when walking beside you, a hand lingering near your back, just in case. He didn’t want to smother you, but he needed to be there.

And you felt it when, one night, you woke him up at midnight because you had an intense, inexplicable craving for a fresh, buttery croissant—the type of pregnancy craving that you’d learned wouldn’t go away until satisfied. You expected a narrowed gaze, a scoff, a curt lecture. Instead, he sighed, blinked a few times, and muttered, "Yeah, yeah," before pulling on his jacket and heading out to find one. He came back half an hour later, placing a pastry bag on your lap, the warmth of the fresh croissant palpable through the crinkly paper, before crawling back into bed next to you and shutting his eyes without making a fuss of the whole thing. Not even about the crumbs you’d inevitably get in the bed.

And you felt it at night, when you’d toss and turn because, truthfully, sleeping with a baby growing inside you was pretty damn uncomfortable—and he’d let you use him as a pillow, as a blanket, as whatever you needed. And his hand would drift lazily up and down your back in soothing little circles, or cradle your growing belly with a protective hold. When you’d stir in the morning, he wouldn’t move away. If anything, he’d pull you closer, as if to remind himself you’re both still there. Still safe.

He doesn’t coddle you or overwhelm you, not exactly. But his care is evident in everything he does, silent and precise.

And in that moment, as he watches you finish eating the last apple slice, he sets his own tea down and walks over to the bed, his brows set in a line of concentration.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, helping you, slowly, sit up in the bed, your legs swinging over the edge of it. He kneels down in front of you, his movements practiced and smooth. His hands, rough from years and years of fighting, grasp onto your ankles, assessing how swollen they are.

He narrows his gaze as he looks up at you. “You were on your feet too much yesterday,” he mutters, his voice low and disapproving as his fingers begin to gently knead your swollen ankles and legs.

“Levi, it’s fine,” you say, shaking your head in a swift, affectionate movement.

He presses his fingers against the arch of your foot and notices how you wince. He gives you a look, the corners of his lips twitching into the faintest, smug smile.

“Right,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. But he’s not mad, not really. Just worried. He continues massaging your legs, with his full, undivided attention. It wouldn’t be like Levi to half-ass anything.

“You don’t need to do all this, Levi, really,” you say, though you make no actual effort to push him away. “It’s gonna be a long nine months if you keep doting on me like this.”

“Maybe I’m just tired of watching you hobble around like you learned how to walk yesterday. It’s lamentable,” he says, his blue-grey eyes still wired onto your legs. You know that what he means, really, is “Maybe I just love you… You idiot.” And that’s more than enough for you. It’s everything.

Masterlist

taglist: @leviykwim @wittyjasontodd @veilsofroses @houseofcrying @velvetyshu (message to be added!)

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

Levi is afraid to break you, at first. His hands have sown so much violence, have been stained with so much blood. It almost feels wrong that they should touch your face. But the way you look at him, the way you trust him, gives him the courage to try.

At night, in the merciful dark, he holds you gently, cradles you like something precious. He stares at your hands when they're linked, silently marveling at the fragility of your fingers folded between his, the furthest thing from the handle of a knife.

When he climbs over you, limbs planted in the mattress to keep his weight from your chest, he's afraid you might shatter, a thousand shards of glass he'll never be able to clean from his sheets.

When you offer him your body, willing and wanting, it feels like drowning. He gasps for air in the forgiving crook of your neck, hiding his crumpled face, pressing his lips to your pulse, clinging to the reminder that you're alive, you're alive and here with him, around him, taking him in like he isn't going to destroy you in the end.