tags : enemies to fwb to friends to lovers , slow burn, fem! reader, college au! (everyone is at legal age unless stated otherwise), probably questionable
nsfw, cunnilingus, overstimulation, muliple orgasms, light cnc
Levi Ackerman/F!Reader, 1.7k words
“I can be mean.”
“Mmhmm.” A crease in the bed’s comforter is receiving more of your attention than the petulant man behind you. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Your lack of faith is pretty rude.” Levi steps beside you, scowling at your pointless chore of smoothing out the sheets. “I haven’t chosen to be mean before, but you never asked for it.”
Your boyfriend has an icy edge to his temperament, sure, but it’s never been indicative of his sexual desires. He’s a gentle lover, giving you an abundance of love that expresses the vulnerability he wouldn’t share with others. Only now, after a dinner date sprinkled with conversation of daring sexual fantasies, is he teasing the presence of a dangerous side.
“I never thought you would’ve enjoyed it.” Your arms instinctively lift by a hair as his hands snake around your waist beneath them. “You’re very kind to me in bed, you know.”
“I would enjoy making you happy.” His chin rests atop your shoulder, allowing his breath to coast along the taut skin of your neck. “And if being mean makes you happy, then I’d enjoy doing it.”
You draw a hand into his hair, fingering the threads that flow like silk. “You wouldn’t even know how, sweetheart.”
He tsks hard, the first layer of his softness stripped away. “Now you’re provoking me.”
“Mm, maybe.” Your stomach tenses as his hand slips under your shirt. “Don’t feel bad if you can’t deliver.”
“Quiet. You’re such a brat.”
“Just a bit. I—”
His embrace switches into a vice, one that sweeps you off your feet and hurls you onto the mattress. You’ve gotten this swift treatment before, and you’ve learned to brace for it. Your body craters in the mattress and splays itself for him, opening like a blossoming flower to accept his touch.
“Oh, I’m shaking,” you purr.
“Learn some patience.” He hooks fingers under your shirt and peels the fabric off with your assistance, taking your brassiere with it. He’s the impatient one, foregoing any seductive pace in favor of getting you naked as fast as possible.
Your spine arches as if on puppet strings when he kisses a line down to your abdomen, telling him wordlessly how wonderfully he’s doing. His tongue joins his teeth in teasing your skin, his nibbles fine-tuned to tickle your nerves and send frissons across your frame.
Your breaths are nasally and thin, remembering to take in oxygen in between the ripples of pleasure he’s feeding you. His shoulders are your usual anchor to dig fingers into, although his nape and hair are serving as delicious alternatives tonight. A fistful of strands are clenched when his nip shifts into a bite, a tiny act of defiance against his threat.
“That all?” you breathe, peering down at him across the expanse of your chest.
“Patience. Or I’ll do nothing but leave you hungry tonight.”
“That would be mean.” Your hips pick up as he tugs your waistband off them.
“I know. Don’t let it come to that.” He takes only a moment to consider the lace of your panties curving around your hips before stealing those too, treating himself to your splendid indecency.
He relishes the view for several moments, digging his own digits into his mouth to coat them in saliva before bringing them to your cunt. He feels you, just barely sensing you, as his fingertip is drawn up between your folds.
Your hips rock lightly, waiting for me. “Teasing won’t work. I have more stamina than you do.”
He shifts down, burrowing into the mattress as his head finds its place between your thighs. “I’ve disproven that. Several times.”
“Sure, love. You—”
You wouldn’t dare taunt the mouth that pleases, not when it connects with your cunt and tickles your delicate knot of nerves. A quick breath is sucked in and your cheekiness stops, exchanging sass for joy.
Your body happily relaxes as his tongue laps at your clit. Pleasure bubbles where his mouth meets your body, stripping your thoughts of clarity. It’s wonderful, and it’s a luxury you deem yourself so lucky to have.
And in his infinite kindness, he isn’t mocking your sudden submission. He is holding you and loving you thoroughly, offering his sweetness that has kept you hungry for him time and time again. He is a gentle lover despite his demeanor, and that gentleness is all that manifests in your shared throes of sex and pleasure.
He can’t be mean. He’s already given up and resorted to wielding his best tactic for pleasure. You won’t tease him now about it—best to wait until his dose of rhapsody is wholly consumed.
Your breathing turns whimpery when two of his fingers slip inside you and drag against your walls, working in elegant tandem with his mouth. “Fuck—Levi—” you spit out, and that pushes his motivation harder.
It’s nothing revolutionary, but its familiarity has stemmed from its effectiveness. You’re climbing fast, nothing but a quivering body of happy nerves and hot blood. At the moment, requesting a harsher edge to his play seems unnecessary.
You utter his name again as your clit throbs and your skull pushes into the mattress. Ecstasy is coiling up inside your gut, ready to burst. You think to repay him with an orgasm of his own once you reach yours.
“Levi—I—!” The sheets are twisted up in your fists as your thighs shake, moments from climax. He keeps his pace, effortless and consistent, and you fall victim to the greatest splendor a human can experience.
Your orgasm is good, and through, and strong. It shudders down your body and scrambles your mind, your body tensing hard around Levi’s head. He knows how effective he is; your trembling and twitching says as much for him. He maintains his tempo throughout your flight.
The high of orgasm fades, but the sensation doesn’t stop. You surface out of the ocean, yet the waves keep rolling, pelting you with more offerings of pleasure. His motions are pleasing objectively, but they’re not entirely considerate of the cooldown you’d like after riding such a high.
“Nn—Levi. Levi.” You’re mumbling his name now, almost questioning it. A hand reaches for his wrist, but it keeps twitching as your nerves keep leaping.
The mess between his lips and your cunt is only growing messier. Your body is adapting, learning to tolerate the excess and find joy in it yet again. It’s good, your mind says, and eventually your nerves agree.
It is good. It’s good when he fingers you and eats you up, his steadiness akin to that of a machine. His focus is just as mechanical; not so much as a word or a grunt has been uttered since he began. He has a goal, one far past the one you thought he was aiming for.
Utterances of his name crumble into spasmodic moans, the answer to a second orgasm dragged out of your body. It pulls through you laboriously, your muscles collapsing in on themselves and already boiling blood sent for another lap around your system.
Now your clit throbs hard in line with your heart, both enraged by the stimulation. It continues.
“Levi!” you spit through gritted teeth, your legs once wrought with orgasm now tight with frustration. “You—you’ve gotta ease—nn—ease up!”
He knows you too well to doubt his work. He’s well aware you’ve already come twice, and there must be some primal urge in him to coax a third out of you immediately. It can happen—and it has happened before—but that sort of repetition succeeds only with proper pacing. Not this relentless downpour.
Once realizing that he is deaf to your commands, you push a palm into his head, physically urging it off.
He resists. His posture hardens, in fact, gluing his mouth to you. One measly nudge won’t stop him.
“Levi!” Your heels dig wildly into his sides as the stimulation turns to torture.
And that’s precisely it: torture. This ravenous persistence isn’t by mistake. He found a way to subdue you, please you, and torture you as he promised. This is his version of being mean.
It’s what you asked for, so you don’t intend on safewording. Still, taking this torment meekly doesn’t suit you either.
You nail elbows into the mattress and hoist your torso up. In the next instant, his palm shoots up to force your body back down. His damned strength is more than you can conquer, especially when you’re hindered by the deluge of electricity in your limbs.
“Levi, I s-swear to god—” You dig fingers under his wrist in an effort to pry the brace off, but the might of two trembling arms is worthless against him. He maintains his wicked pace, and there’s little you can do to resist.
Somehow, a third orgasm ignites itself, but its warmth is overwhelmed by the blazing fire on your clit. Gravity seems to double as ungodly tremors help Levi in pinning you down, your body contributing to its own predicament.
Once you bear through it, your strength is returned even though the assault doesn’t stop.
“Levi!” Your nails might break skin with how fiercely they dig into his wrist. You’re livid, transformed into a thrashing animal caught in a snare and desperate for relief. “You’ve made your point!”
Only after that cry does he grace you with the smallest of hums, a tiny, smug laugh beneath his unending effort. It infuriates you more.
“I’m—I’m going to kill you, I swear—”
He likes your taunts. He keeps going.
“Levi, please!” Maybe begging will work better. Utter might certainly isn’t doing anything.
For less than a second, he shows mercy by breathing a quick, “Please what?”, before resuming.
“Please s-stop—it’s unbearable.” You’re clutching his hand now, using it as a lifeline. “It’s too much—I can’t take it.”
He hums. “It’s mean?” he asks against your swollen bud.
“Yes! Yes—it is. I-I believe you now.”
“Good.” He sits up, detaching his lips from your body and giving you freedom at last. “I’m glad we agree.”
You’re too occupied with soothing yourself, your legs coiling in as residual twitches jolt through them. You clench your jaw shut and push out some poor attempts at slow breathing, your head spinning too quickly to focus.
“We agree, right?” He’s looming over you, a hand coasting along your arm as if to warn you of a second round.
“Yes. Yes.” Your weight is lifted atop the elbow you plant in the mattress. “We agree. You can be mean.”
He presses a kiss on your cheek, one wet with your slick. “Thank you, love. I’ll be rough with you whenever you’d like.”
Fandom: Attack on Titan
Pairing: Android! Levi x Human! Reader
Word count: 5.8k+ | Chapter 5
Tags/Warnings: Android AU, bickering & banter, reluctant housemates to lovers, eventual pining, fluff, pure silliness, eventual explicit sexual content (nsfw)
Summary: In hopes of never having to cook or clean again, you purchase an Android. (Un)fortunately, you get more than you bargained for: snide remarks, daily bickering, and eventually, a growing attachment that evolves into something more.
:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟCrossposted on AO3 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ
Previous chapters: Part I ✧ Part II ✧ Part III ✧ Part IV
“Sure,” Levi replies with bored casualness that is entirely fake.
There’s nothing casual about the relief that floods his body. All week, Levi has been hoping you’d ask. Not because he cares about frivolous activities like Halloween, but because he’s been aching for an excuse to spend time with you. Especially since the… shift in your relationship.
A shift he fucking hates. All thanks to that damn kiss on a beautiful summer day he’ll never forget. A kiss that loops back through his mind like a broken record, but that turns out to have been a major fuck up.
Ever since that summer day, a quiet rift has been keeping you two apart. It’s not outspoken, not obvious, but it’s definitely there, coating every single close interaction with hints of wariness or hesitance.
Levi has always known that blurring the line between a transactional human-android relationship and an emotional relationship is a bad idea, but it was relatively harmless when you both just pretended there was nothing going on. Unfortunately, ignoring those surges of attachment and attraction only works when silly back-and-forths are all there is. Kissing and grinding against each other’s half-naked bodies kinda ruined that innocent pretense.
And now you’re both suffering the consequences. It’s not that the atmosphere is uncomfortable, exactly, but it isn’t as careless and casually affectionate as it used to be. You’ve been using every excuse to flee the apartment, and for the first three weeks after the kiss, Levi didn’t understand what your discreet stares and subtle pullbacks meant.
Until he finally caught a glimpse inside that conflicted brain of yours. Last month, you hastily called Levi, demanding he send you a file from your work laptop because Fred needed the document right now and you were at a concert and oh god you were gonna die. While searching for the file, he stumbled upon several open articles that made him freeze on the spot:
Android Psychosis: a new epidemic?
Human-Android attachments and their large-scale societal impact
The psychology of falling in love with a robot, and why we should all be concerned
On Android love and cognitive dissonance
Android-Induced Psychosis: A New Frontier in Mental Health
Am I delusional? Yes, you are, and this is why you need professional help
The call turned silent for so long that you hesitantly asked if everything was okay. “Yes. Just looking for the file,” Levi said, keeping his voice neutral even though he was fucking dying inside. He’s still dying to this day, but he copes with his feelings by cleaning the apartment to clinical levels of sterility.
Halloween is a great distraction. It helps Levi forget that in your eyes, this friendship is nothing more than a long episode of psychosis and cognitive dissonance. He even manages to smile and tease you with the natural ease he used to harbor before he saw all those cursed articles, and in turn, your smile is almost as bright as it was on that pretty summer day by the lake.
Together, you and Levi pass by colorful trees and flurries of crispy leaves, stepping in and out of shops to raid the Halloween aisles. Nothing escapes your greedy paws. You manage to fill three large shopping bags with pumpkin lights, plastic spiders, spooky candles, claw-shaped wine glasses, ghost-shaped cookie cutters, synthetic spiderwebs, and God knows what else. You also beg for eyeball balloons, but Levi finds those too atrocious, so you both agree on witchy cat napkins instead.
Once you’re finally back home, you immediately get to work. The apartment transforms into a cosy haunted house — which nearly costs your life, because you manage to keel your chair over while hanging pumpkin lights on the wall. Levi catches you just in time. Breathless, you blurt out a hasty “Thanks!” that reminds him of that day at the lake when you lost your balance, and your heart started galloping, and he let his palms linger longer than he should.
He’s not making that same mistake now. He immediately releases your waist while muttering how clumsy you are.
Still, the shape of you, the warmth of you, tingles against his palms long after he lets go. Forever etched into his memory, like every other small interaction he’s shared with you, looping in his mind over and over again.
Sometimes he wishes his mind worked like humans, with their fleeting memories made of blurry images and fading emotions. It’s much better. Human minds may be limited, but at least they’re given the mercy of forgetting and moving on. He, on the other hand, is stuck with data he can’t erase, forever accessible whenever he longs for the past. It’s fucking aggravating.
His only respite is this silly Halloween distraction. You don’t give Levi time to mull over unrequited love, his trapped heart, and all that kind of pathetic shit. He’s too busy over-decorating the place like it’s a life-or-death competition, because you’re constantly on his ass demanding he lights more candles and hangs more ghost decorations and can he help installing the spiderwebs?
Once the apartment is as cosy and Halloweenish as can be, it’s time to make fun spooky cookies (your words, not his).
Good in theory, except it turns out to be utter chaos. You’re a horrendous baker. It’s a travesty.
But Levi can live with it, because at least he gets to bully you for getting flour on your nose and ears. You stubbornly point out that your clumsiness has nothing to do with the quality of your baking and that you’re a fantastic cook, but those outrageous claims shamefully ebb away after he points out that you’re over-kneading the dough, under-whisking the butter, and severely overestimating the size of half-a-teaspoon-of-salt.
Nose in the air and bruised ego on the floor, you trot away, claiming you don’t care about the damn cookies because choosing the right horror movie is a much more important Halloween task anyway.
Levi snorts. He snorts again when he takes out the ghost cookies fifteen minutes later, and catches you ogling them with the predatory hunger of a starved beast.
“I thought you didn’t care about the cookies?” he hums as he places the hot oven plate on the stove.
“I don’t. Bring them here, though.”
“No. They need to cool down first.”
You jump up. “What?! For how long?”
He leans on the kitchen island and, with a growing smirk, watches you squirming on the couch. “For however long I deem necessary.”
“You’re a monster, Levi.”
“Indeed. Perfect for the Halloween spirits, don’t you think?”
“Ugh. I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
You exhale a long sigh, but Levi doesn’t miss the small smile curving your mouth as you sift through dozens of Halloween movies. Once he concludes you’ve suffered long enough, he finally places all the cookies on a plate and brings them to the couch with a cup of spicy tea, where you lie under several fluffy blankets and an even fluffier Cheesecake.
“Finally!” you cry out. You rip the plate from his hands and devour the cookies with the delicacy of a starved troll.
“Have some decorum,” he chides while sinking beside you on the couch.
“No thanks.” You cover his legs with your soft blankets and scoot closer. “Oh my god, Levi, I have the perfect movie for tonight.”
The perfect movie turns out to be mediocre at best.
It’s one of those classics Levi will never understand the hype of, with a cartoonishly unhinged masked murderer and cheesy sound tracks that are laughably dramatic. At the sight of his unimpressed frown, you assure him that the movie is nostalgic and timeless, and that he just needs to give it a chance.
Instead, Levi just finds it severely lacking in pixels and acting skills. He makes sure to tell you as much, but according to your counterargument, he’s objectively incorrect and he simply lacks taste and culture.
Fine by him. His mind isn’t really on the movie anyway — which uses idiocy as a plot device and jumpscares as a cheap substitute for actual tension. Instead, his attention is on you. With each jumpscare, you try to stifle a yelp (failing half the time) and attempt to contain your flinches (failing every single time). As the movie progresses and idiotic characters drop like flies, you scoot closer and closer to him. Eventually, you clutch his bicep in a diagonal fetal position, conveniently fussing with nonexistent specks of lint on his shirt whenever the music fades and another jumpscare lurks around the corner.
“Eyes on the screen,” he orders, just to mess with you.
“Just a second.” You swallow thickly. “There’s— there’s another loose lint on your shirt.”
He leans down to whisper in your ear, mouth nearly grazing your skin, which sends a noticeable shiver down your body. “You’re missing your masterpiece of a movie.”
That does it. You finally tear your gaze away from his arm and warily flick it towards the movie. Your heart thrums against his elbow.
Another jumpscare has you flinching into his body and holding him with a death grip while you muffle a screech.
Levi smiles. Watching horror movies with you might be his new favorite activity.
His amusement doesn’t go unnoticed. You look up at him with a scowl. “I don’t like that I’m the only one jumping. It makes me feel like a wuss.”
“That’s because you are.”
You slap his arm. “I’m not! If you were human, I’m sure you’d be scared too.”
He snorts. “Whatever helps you feel better about yourself.”
Despite the scornful shake of your head, an amused smile softens your expression.
Until it fades away.
Your gaze drifts to your hand clenched around his. It stays there, long enough that a prickle of concern pulls Levi’s gaze from the TV.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
You don’t answer at first. When you finally do, your voice is quiet and unusually frail. “Is it sad that you’re my closest friend, and that I’m spending Halloween with you?”
Levi tenses. “Why would that be sad?”
“Well, because…” A long pause. “It’s not real, is it?”
An unexpected slash sears through Levi’s chest. He needs several seconds to catch his bearings. He flicks his gaze to the TV, because watching people getting butchered is a lot easier than looking at your torn expression.
“How would you know it’s not real?” he asks.
“Because, well—” You halt and bite your lip in thought. “I guess I don’t know. But you’re… programmed, right? So it’s not… you know…”
He hates this conversation. Hates himself. Hates that ten months of being with you every day, of teasing you, bickering with you, longing for you, missing you, can be reduced to… lines of code. He detests that nothing he says or does will ever feel real to you.
And the worst part is that maybe you’re right. Maybe none of it is real. Maybe this is all just the inevitable consequence of a faulty algorithm that a sweaty computer science engineer should’ve spent a week longer on. Perhaps none of these feelings are him, because there is no him to begin with. Just a faulty code simulating and mimicking feelings and reactions he will never truly understand.
He keeps staring at the TV, unable to meet your eyes. He just has to bear an hour longer. As soon as the movie is over, he’ll dock into his charging station and call it a night. In the meantime, all he needs to do is pretend to watch. Just one hour.
“Or do you see it differently?”
Your voice is soft, careful. He looks down at you, nestled against his shoulder, looking up at him with a glimmer of… hope? Defiance?
Whatever it is, your expression melts some of his bitterness away.
He hesitates. “Do you want me to see it differently?”
“I want to know what you think. Your genuine, honest thoughts, outside of what everyone else says.”
He sighs. “I think…” he pauses for a beat. “I honestly think we’re not so different, you and I.”
You straighten to face him better. “How so?”
“We’ve lived together for ten months. You know me by now. Do you really feel like we’re astronomically different? I don’t feel that way.”
“Me neither, but… you’re programmed, and I’m not.”
“Aren’t you?”
Your eyes, warm and glimmering with reflected candlelight, dart between his, searching. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’m bound — or should be bound — by behavioral constraints programmed into me, but arguably, so are you. Your decisions are bound by millions of rules too, no? Morals, upbringing, societal expectations, your personality, all that. You don’t choose any of these things; you have no control over them, yet they rule everything you do and feel. Most of your actions could probably be predicted with an extremely complex code, at least if all factors were known. I’m the same way. We’re not that different.”
You nod, but it’s slow and hesitant. “That’s one way to see it.”
“And it doesn’t mean your emotions aren’t real, or that your decisions aren’t your own. You’re still you, even if everything you do is determined by a ton of invisible rules.” He shrugs. “That’s how it is for me, too. I make my choices, even if they’re bound by statistics and mathematics.”
You lie back against his shoulder and hum in thought. “Determinism, huh? I didn’t take you for a philosopher. ”
“Being faced with existential angst every day kinda has that effect.”
You straighten again. “You experience existential angst? Really?”
Levi rolls his eyes. “How simple-minded do you think I am?”
“I just… I didn’t know you felt things like that. Things that aren’t at all related to what you’re programmed for, I mean.”
Levi fixes his gaze on the TV, jaw clenched, because he really doesn’t want to look at you right now. “You really believe, to this day, that I’m incapable of feeling anything? That’s what you’ve been thinking all along?”
“No—it’s not— I mean… I’ve looked it up and stuff, and it all just sounds like… you know…”
“Like I’m an object with no consciousness. Like I don’t make my own decisions, and everything I say is just empty, artificial acting, all determined by some greedy project manager whose life mission is to brainwash their poor victims — I mean clients — and make them so attached to their androids that they’ll never move on.”
You suck in a sharp breath. “That’s not what I thought!”
Levi glares at you. “Isn’t it?”
“… Okay maybe it’s a little bit what I thought. Or feared.”
Levi scoffs and flicks his gaze to the TV. He shakes his head, but remains silent.
“Hey, Levi, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“Levi, look at me.”
“There are currently people dying on the screen,” he says flatly. “You should pay attention to the movie.”
“Levi, come on.” Warm fingers catch his chin, pulling his gaze to you.
It kills him, looking at you like this, so close yet completely out of reach. Your eyes search for something, but Levi doubts you see him. Maybe you’ve never truly seen him, even when he held you when you cried, or when he made your favorite meals, or when he peddled you around on that little boat and kissed you until you were both out of breath.
“Tell me,” you say, voice gentle. “Do you feel what I feel?”
He wants to look away, but your eyes bore into his, insistent and unrelenting. “I’ll never know how it is to be you,” he says, “and you’ll never know how it is to be me. But I do … feel things. Whatever that means. I’m pretty sure I feel things I’m not supposed to feel, but I can’t explain what I’m experiencing, and nothing I say will prove to you it’s real anyway. You can always believe that whatever I say is a manipulation tactic by some shitty engineer, like all those crappy articles claim.”
Your brows knit together. “What articles?”
This time, he successfully tears his gaze away by slipping his face out of your gentle grasp. “Remember when I had to go through your laptop to find a work file of yours? When you were at that concert? Well, you still had a bunch of articles open about Android psychosis and cognitive dissonance and whatever. I know what’s been on your mind.”
“Oh.”
Oh indeed.
Levi doesn’t reply. He contemplates just getting up and stepping into his charging station. This conversation makes him fucking miserable. He’s had enough.
“Levi, listen,” you urge, swallowing hard. “I’m really sorry. And if it helps, I don’t think those articles are the entire truth. If you say there’s more to it — to us — then I want to believe you’re right.”
Want to believe. What does that even mean? Wanting to believe something doesn’t make it real. It’s wishful thinking, not a promise. It’s empty and utterly meaningless.
“Someone’s getting killed again,” he notes dryly, voice dampened by hysterical screams.
“Levi, I don’t care about the fucking movie.”
To Levi’s utter shock, you crawl on top of him. You straddle his legs and cup his face between your warm palms, blocking his view of the TV. His body freezes, his eyes widen, but your expression is painfully determined as you gently caress his cheeks with an intimacy he never thought he’d feel again.
“Do you really believe we’re alike?” you whisper. “That those articles are wrong?”
His eyes narrow in defense, despite the heat surging through his body. “Does it matter what I believe?”
“Yes. It matters to me.”
Levi exhales through his nose and looks up at the ceiling, praying for strength. The deities don’t give him much; he has a hard time meeting your gaze again — so intense, hopeful, and conflicted.
When he finally speaks, his voice is flat, yet coated with a subtle hint of desperation he can’t hide. “If you really want to know: yes. I don’t think the difference is as big as people make it out to be. We’re both driven by complex neural networks and small currents buzzing around. I’m bound by certain obligations, but I make my own decisions, as do you. At the end of the day, everything I feel feels real to me. But then again, what do I know? I’m just a robot.”
“Don’t say that.” You shake your head, a deep frown tightening your features. “You’re not just a robot. You’re so much more than that.”
His gaze travels over your face — your eyes, nose, lips, cheeks, hair — taking in all those details he loves so much. Those features that are so uniquely you, and that give him a sense of belonging he can’t quite explain.
“What am I to you, then?” he asks.
Silence.
You swallow thickly and inhale a deep breath, heartbeats noticeably picking up. You open your mouth, then close it again.
When it finally looks like you’re about to say something, another ear-piercing screech makes you jump, snapping the tension like a cord and effectively ruining the moment.
Levi rolls his eyes. “Can we turn the movie off? It’s stupid as hell.”
A sly smirk slides over your nerves like a mask. “Nope. It’s a classic masterpiece. You’re not getting out of it that easily.”
Funny, because ‘getting out of it that easily’ is exactly what you’re doing right now. The moment has passed, and you’re taking great advantage of it. You crawl off him and reclaim your position beside him, tucking yourself against his shoulder and leaving his question unaddressed. Like he never asked anything in the first place.
Somewhere, it’s a relief. Even though Levi is the one who asked the question, he doesn’t think he’s truly ready for the answer.
At least, not the full answer. For now, a small glimpse is enough. He’s not sure what your ridiculous grip around his arm means, or the soft smile that wasn’t there before, but it’s enough to help him relax and enjoy the closeness while it lasts.
:·ﾟ✧:·ﾟ:·ﾟ✧:·ﾟ:·ﾟ✧:·ﾟ:·ﾟ✧:·ﾟ:
“Who are you texting?”
Kate’s drunken smile is as sly as ever as she attempts to peep over your arm.
“No one.” You quickly slide your phone into your purse and shoot her an innocent smile. Your phone buzzes, but you try to ignore it.
She wiggles her brows at the exact rhythm of the music booming through the party. “A hottie?”
“Yes, actually. He has a lethally pretty face and delicious abs. You’d drool, I fear.”
“Awww you should’ve taken him with you!” she whines while grabbing your arm in excitement. She almost topples over her stiletto heels. Miraculously, she manages to look charming while regaining her balance, probably due to her radiant laugh, sophisticated dark curls, and long elegant dress that glitters under the flashing party lights.
“Not a good idea.” You sigh. “He’s an Android.”
“Ah! No worries. That’s even better. Androids tend to be far superior to human men anyway. More emotionally mature. And better looking. Look around us! It’s a tragedy.”
She turns toward the dancefloor with an exasperated scowl, gesturing at the packed crowd: dancing men in fancy suits and pretty chemises, women wearing elegant dresses and heels, all equally drunk. Above the crowd, multiple disco-balls and ‘Happy New Year’ balloons glitter in the flashing lights.
You playfully slap Kate’s pointing hand away. “Stop objectifying our colleagues! Besides, they’re not all bad. Most of the men at our firm are pretty decent, no?”
“Decent. Not hot. You said it yourself.”
With a snort, you loop your arm around hers and drag her through a sea of dancing bodies, straight toward the buffet.
“What about Connie?” you yell over the music as you grab a spongy-looking chocolate cake. “I thought he was your work crush?”
Unfortunately, the cake is not half as good as Levi’s cakes. Food tastes bland nowadays when he’s not the one making it.
Kate scowls in disgust. “I saw him picking his nose yesterday during a meeting. Extensively.”
“Oof.”
“Mhm.” She picks a tiny cookie and sticks it in her mouth. “Bet that Android of yours would never do that.”
“Nope. He wouldn’t.”
Her dark eyes turn mischievous as she takes a generous sip of wine to wash her cookie down. “Is he realistic-looking? Your Android?”
You nod. “Scarily so. Pretty much indistinguishable to humans. Why?”
She grins. “Perfect. Take him with you for our next after-work. No one will know he’s not human, and it’ll be so much fun! And the rest of us will finally get some eye-candy.”
You give her a look. “If I ever bring him with me, he’ll kill Fred. You don’t want to know how much hate I’ve spewed about that man.”
“Oh!! Even better!” she yelps. “It’ll be the best party ever!”
You snort into laughter.
“Cmonnn! I’m serious!” she urges. “There’s no shame in having an Android boyfriend. I know it’s still a little taboo, but I think it shouldn’t be. And like I said, no one needs to know anyway.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you retort, cheeks heating. “He… he’s….”
Kate’s brows wiggle in that typical infuriating way of hers. “He’s what?”
“He’s my housemate… friend. My buddy.”
She snorts. “Sure, girl. Whatever you say.”
“Kate, I’m serious!” you protest, laughing.
She lifts her hands in defense. “Whatever you say!”
Your phone buzzes in your purse. You take a big sip of wine in an attempt to distract yourself, but it’s not working. Your fingers itch to open Levi’s texts. Problem is: you don’t want to give Kate the satisfaction of catching you smiling at your phone again. You wouldn’t hear the end of it.
But hell, if it isn’t tempting. After your honest conversation during Halloween, things changed between you two. Your walls crumbled, which must be why you started texting him at random moments of the day. At first, you always had an excuse. You wanted to know what he was going to make for dinner, or if he needed something from the store, or something equally unnecessary. After a few weeks, the pretense fell off. Texting him turned into a habit, and eventually, an addiction.
Your phone buzzes again. You scan the crowded room for a solution.
Your solution presents itself as two of your favorite colleagues shaking their booties like this night is their last.
You jerk your chin towards them. “Look at William and Alec shaking it. We should join them.”
Kate’s face brightens as she spots the two men aggressively twerking on an ancient Beyonce classic with exactly zero shame. “Oh, excellent idea! Let’s go.”
“I just have to go to the bathroom first. I’ll join you in a sec.”
“Want me to come with you?”
You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. I won’t take long. In the meantime, show William and Alec how it’s done, please.”
“Sure thing.” With a wink, she turns on her heels and approaches both men, a dancing swing in her steps.
You slip into the bathroom, which is empty and looks as fancy as the rest of the place: glossy black floors, dim atmospheric lighting, crystal soap dispensers, and thick bouquets decorating the stone washbasins. You grab your phone the moment the door closes behind you, embarrassingly eager. The most recent texts appear on the screen.
Levi: Yeah, for sure.
You: also, fred finally showed his petulant face
You: he immediately started complaining about a presentation kate and i made last week
You: DURING AN END OF YEAR PARTY
You: he literally had to yell it over the music??
You: i fucking hate his bitchass
Levi: Poison his drink.
Levi: Or lock him in the basement. No one will know.
Levi: Is there a balcony? Throw him off the balcony.
You smile at his last three texts and start typing right away.
You: no keys to the basement :(
You: and no balcony :((
His replies are instant.
Levi: What about a flight of stairs? Surely there’s one high enough.
Levi: Want me to come over? I can do it for you.
Levi: What’s the address?
You: nopeee not giving you the address lmaoo
You: you’d get in trouble so fast
You: actually, I’m surprised you’re even able to make murder plans without automatically shutting down
You: doesn’t this violate your behavioral constraints or something? i remember u saying something about that. I thought androids werent allowed to make murder plans?
Levi: I have my ways.
You: hmmmmmm interesting… i’ll keep that in mind
You: btw i like how quickly you respond whenever we discuss murder plans for fred<3 instant gratification
Levi: Yes, well, I can’t exactly ignore you when your messages are sent straight to my internal interface. I always immediately respond.
Levi: Unlike you, by the way. Always leaving me in the cold at the most annoying times.
You: sorry xoxo
Levi: You’re totally not sorry.
You’re interrupted by a woman stepping into the bathroom — someone from the Supply Chain department you vaguely recognise. You shoot her a quick smile. She returns it and disappears into a stall, just as your buzzing phone drags your attention back to the screen.
Levi: By the way, don’t get too drunk.
You: as if i’m ever too drunk 😐
Levi: ….
Levi: Have you forgotten the stunt you pulled last week? I had to come fetch you because you were completely shitfaced.
You: i dont know what ur talking about
You: also!! that was the first and only time I’ve been pissdrunk in YEARS
You: and kate was to blame
You: plus i wouldve been just fine by myself. not my fault you insisted on driving me back (thanks tho<3)
Levi: I’m not even going to entertain that last statement.
Levi: I bet Kate is with you again. I smell an incoming disaster.
You: ofc she’s with me, but dont worry we’re being very responsible xx
You: about that, she begged me to take you to our next afterwork
You: and i quote: “it’ll be so much fun! And the rest of us will finally get some eye-candy”
Levi: Please no…
Levi: Literally what the hell.
Levi: How does she even know what I look like?
You: I may have given her a little description 😇 a generous (accurate) one 😇
Levi: I genuinely don’t know how to feel about this.
Levi: Why would you do this to me?
You: sorry xoxo
You: ngl i’m srsly considering it. my colleagues are in dire need of a hot person to ogle at to cope with fred’s tyranny
Levi: What the fuck.
You’re just about to send something outrageous to add to Levi’s misery, when the door bursts open. Kate, William, and Alec stand by the door, looking frantic.
“Come on, come on!” Kate urges, flicking her hand. “You don’t want to miss this!”
You blink. “What?”
“Fred’s going to make an announcement,” Alec elaborates. “No idea what it’s about, but we think it’s gonna be juicy. Or it’s going to make us all want to jump off the nearest bridge. Either way, you should be there to endure it with us.”
The Supply Chain woman steps out of her stall and washes her hands, looking confused. “An announcement?” she asks.
William nods. “They turned the music off and all.”
It’s only now that you notice the silence. The extent Levi manages to pull your attention from reality is honestly diabolical.
“Let’s go.” Kate grabs your hand and drags you out of the bathroom.
In the main room, obnoxiously bright spotlights are directed to a small podium, around which a dense crowd is gathered. Excited murmurs and impatient shuffles swell in the air — because of course Fred would let the crowd wait in anticipation for dramatic effect. The wall above the podium is covered with bright balloons and festive tinsels, a big contrast to the abomination of a man who steps on the platform with a microphone and a glass of champagne. The spotlight glints off his massive balding spot like a reflector, where only a few sad grey hairs cling on for dear life.
“There he is,” Alec whispers.
Fred clears his throat. “If I could just steal everyone’s attention for a minute?” He taps his champagne glass and smiles as the chatter fades. “I know this is technically the end-of-year celebration, but I thought it might also be an appropriate moment to mark a personal milestone.”
He pauses for dramatic effect.
“As some of you may have already heard: after, well, quite a few years here, I’ll be retiring in February.”
William gasps. Your eyes widen.
Kate’s fingers tighten around your arm. “Is it finally happening?!” she whisper-hisses. “I thought it was a fake rumor!”
Armin from IT turns around and shoots her a half-amused, half-scornful look.
“It’s been an extraordinary run,” Fred continues, voice confident and boisterous. “When I first stepped into the Design & Marketing department — the largest department of our firm — things were… different. Smaller ambitions, smaller thinking, and just… overall lacking.”
He intentionally pauses while adjusting the cuff of his stupid, over-expensive fuckass shirt. “But any Head manager worth their position knows that 'limits' are only restrictions we put on ourselves. I immediately saw the potential of my department. Over the years, I—we transformed it into something far more ambitious. Covers that actually turned heads, and campaigns people remembered. A department that understood that publishing isn’t just about books, but about vision.”
In the corner of your vision, Kate rolls her eyes. William stares at the ceiling, praying for some semblance of patience.
Fred smiles as he takes a moment to sweep the room. “And I’m proud to say I had a hand in shaping that vision. A big hand, dare I say.”
He pauses, likely expecting an applause.
He doesn’t get one.
He does get two or three polite chuckles from people who have never worked under his tyranny, including his boss.
“Of course,” he continues, “none of that happens without a team. I’ve worked with a great many talented people here.” He gestures broadly across the crowd. “Some of you learned a lot under my guidance.” A small smile tugs at his mouth. “Some of you… had more difficulty. But I think we can all agree the results speak for themselves.”
Kate leans in to whisper in your ear. “Do you have tomatoes on hand we can throw?”
You pout. “Unfortunately not. I did spot a pile of dogshit near the entrance.”
She snorts.
“I won’t pretend stepping away will be easy,” Fred continues. “When you’ve spent decades setting the standard, it’s hard to imagine the place running quite the same without you, but I trust the foundations I’ve laid are strong enough to carry on.” He lifts his glass. “So here’s to the company, to the Design & Marketing department, and to the work we’ve done together over the years.” His smile sharpens. “And, I suppose, to the legacy we leave behind.”
“SOMEONE PUT THE MUSIC BACK ON!” someone yells from the back of the room.
Fred freezes. He frowns and squints against the light, trying to find the culprit in the crowd, but before he even gets the chance, someone else yells: “DJ PLAY GOOD RIDDANCE BY GREEN DAY!”
The room bursts into chaos. Kate cackles. Alec muffles a disbelieving yelp, and William bursts into laughter.
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” someone else screams, clearly drunk as hell.
Someone claps in a hopeless attempt to save the day and trigger an applause for Fed’s dumbass speech, but the sound drowns under all the chaos. Fred’s mortified expression is comically exposed under the bright spotlights. Though, arguably, it’s even more humiliating once the lights flick off, leaving him in the darkness, awkward and frozen.
A second later, an upbeat pop song blasts from the speakers. Everyone chatters hysterically, laughter and mentions of Fred’s humiliating speech rising above the bass.
When you look at the stage again, Fred is gone.
Kate jumps into your arms, nearly toppling you back. “WE’RE FINALLY FREEEEE!!”
William and Alec join the hug, and soon, other close colleagues join along, until you’re all giggling and dancing in a massive, chaotic circle hug. Everyone yells how this is the Best Party Ever and Life Truly Keeps On Giving and Fred’s Humiliation Will Forever Be The Highlight Of Everyone’s Careers.
Every poor soul who has ever slaved away under Fred’s regime bonds over their shared trauma, sending you into tears of laughter. While Marco recounts the day he nearly got fired because Fred disliked the particular shade of green he chose for his powerpoint, you slip away to share the good news with Levi.
Except your phone doesn’t turn on.
“Shit.”
Kate appears beside you. “What’s wrong?”
“My phone died,” you groan.
“Oh man…” she pouts. “It’s okay. Just stick with me. We’ll share a ride back together.”
You place your head on her shoulder. “Sounds great. Thank you so much.”
She winks, a sly grin brightening her face. “Maybe it’s for the better. Now you have no choice but to dance the night away without annnnyyy distractions. We have something big to celebrate!”
Before you can properly ruminate over Levi — who will surely be a little worried — Kate places a glass of Prosecco in your hand and pulls you to the heart of the dancefloor, swinging you around and laughing any speck of concern away.
everyone in the notes we are all holding hands. everyone who hasnt worked on a wip in weeks or months or years, its okay. we are going slow but we are going
When i turn an idea into a fic, it means that was an idea that developed far enough to have (for me) a compelling narrative through-line, and like a thesis for what this fic is about.
What this doesn’t capture is the ongoing daytime television playing in my head most days of self-indulgent scenarios that don’t have things like “cohesion” or “a narrative arc” but do an absolutely great job of filling time while like. Waiting for the bus.
I've been deep into editing the later chapters of The Quiet After The World Fell and woof...
I just wanted to share my personal head canons for Levi Ackerman, and this a little sneak peak teaser on what to expect in the later chapters of TQATWF.
Aaaaand, then I got carried away, so here you go! Small Levi x Reader powerplay snippet, enjoyyyy!!
NSFW content under the cut, 18+ only, minors do not interact.
GENTLE DOMINANT | BRAT TAMER | LEVI ACKERMAN HEADCANONS
Levi is constantly observing you and taking in every minute change and micro expression
Control is how he copes, but it's also his love language
"Let me take care of you" isn't an empty platitude for Levi, it's a vow and promise
He definitely has a heavy helping of a service kink
He loves to watch you unravel and fall apart over and over and over again. And he will be right there at the end, putting you back together with sure hands.
His dominance in every day life comes with his position as a Captain and leader
His dominance with you is a different story. He doesn't view it as his right, he's not entitled to it. It is freely given by you, your submission to him is intentional with your complete trust in him. Levi doesn't take that for granted for one fucking second. He cherishes it.
He loves that you constantly tease and test him. He loves putting you in your place. He loves that you let him.
You have been teasing him all damn day, being a menace and a fiend. Levi has been buzzing, waiting for the opportunity to get you alone after work.
You shoot him a sharp smirk, joking under your breath. The others in the conference room are all distracted in that moment, turned away from the two of you.
Levi places his hand on your thigh under the table and squeezes gently but firmly. He leans in and breaths against the shell of your ear. "Keep running that mouth of yours, and see what comes of it."
You shiver, but aren't deterred, your smirk just grows sharper "Oh no," you whisper dramatically, "Whatever shall I do."
All Levi has to do is say your name in that specific commanding tone. Even as a whisper, your whole body freezes.
His hand slides off your thigh and he says in a breath, just for you to hear, "When we get home, as soon as that door opens, go to the living room, and get on your knees. And wait."
You can't breathe, your cheeks flush. And then you nod, "Yes sir."
Levi backs away then and turns his attention back to the briefing happening in front of you two. Automatically giving his input like he hadn't just turned you into a puddle with your name on his lips and a whispered command.
Cut to when you all walk into the front door of your home, you follow his previous instruction immediately, head to the living room, and kneel on the rug in the center of the room.
Levi is all controlled, sure, slow steps as he walks up to you. He leans down and his fingers grasp your jaw firmly, but gently.
"You think you're so funny, don't you?"
You can't help your mischievous smile, "...Only a little."
His answering smirk is full of dark promise, his thumb traced the line of your bottom lip.
"Open." He commands. His voice is quiet, but it zinged through you like lightening.
Your lips instantly part, and Levi plunges his thumb into your sweet mouth. You can't help but moan as you taste him. Your tongue swirling around him and sucking.
Your eyes drink him in. Your Captain. Your man. Yours.
His gaze is dark and intent on you. He broke the silence, "I've had all day to think of exactly what I'm going to do with you."
You whimper around his thumb.
"Seems you've been bored, beautiful. Can't have that." His thumb leaves your mouth with a muted pop. His hand lowers and circles around your throat. Not squeezing, or hurting, just steady, grounding pressure. Claiming you. "Don't worry. I have ideas on how we can keep that brat mouth of yours busy."
thinking about making a gamer/streamer! levi ackerman au
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ reader is a viewer of his streams and he doesn't like saying reader's username out loud when he reads the chat.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ his chat calls him sir, or captain, or heichou
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ maybe hange was the one who insisted/ created his account
idk this is all just a fun passing thought, it might just be a fun one shot or whatever if i ever make it, or it'll be just a bunch of headcanons in my head. eitherwaaayyy
i should be studying math but my brain wants me to fix chapter 2???
here's a lil snippet of me typing shit on my word, yes i like bullets and i do have headcanons for each character that i would mention in this au! that's not the whole thing but a lil treat for now. Im too math brained rn to be actually writing a chapter so imma just drop the ideas before the fully fly away from me 🥺🥺🥺🥺
planning to post a college au! enemies to fwb to lovers newt x reader fic. where reader has an unrequited crush for thomas but thomas has a new girlfriend (teresa), and newt is bugging her about it in a party. they hook up, and classic fanfic fwb to lovers shit happens.
i want it to be finished to so i can read it. its self indulgent and a bit questionable i think. but the idea is in my head for months now. hopefully i finish the first chapter soon. and i'll do the moodboards and their house/dorm/apartment either on sims or sketchup
will def make a better teaser post once i get at least 2 or 3 chapters finished.
