Can i request a Levi x Reader smut fic with Reader riding and bouncing on Levi's dick while wearing a bunny ears and lingerie
basically them fucking like rabbits :P
Bounce
Levi x fem reader
1k
Modern AU - outfit - toys - dirty talk - smut
You dress as a bunny and bounce on Levi.
Your hips shifted slightly; a deep, rumbling grunt escaped your lover. Your soft hands slipped under the crisp, smart shirt of the man before you, exploring the hot, soft dips and curves of his muscles. Every touch set his body alight with desire. Soft pecks of love from your lips covered Levi’s neck and jawline.
Levi’s calloused hands latched onto your warm breasts, his elegant, long fingers massaging them as if he were a baker kneading precious dough. Now and then, his thumb would brush your peeking nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure down to your core.
He released one breast before reaching up and tugging on your ear, causing a cute whimper to escape your adorable lips. “My cute bunny,” he purred. “Look at you.” His hand dragged down to your neck to lightly grip it. “So desperate and willing to bounce for her lover.” His thumb ran over your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth. A deep purr vibrated in his chest. “Good little bunny.”
Being touched and spoken to like a goddess, like you were a precious bunny, made your soul burn. Filled with confidence, you tangled your fingers in his hair and began moving up and down on Levi. Feeling his thick, long cock sliding almost all the way out of you before plunging back in was electrifying. Your hips involuntarily bucked, shoving your breasts in Levi’s face.
Levi firmly gripped your plump buttocks and began moving you up and down as he bit, licked and sucked at your chest. Feeling your hot, wet pussy wrapped around him, clenching him tightly as pleasure throbbing inside you, it made him purr in delight.
You squeaked as Levi flicked your bunny tail. “Le-Levi.”
He playfully tugged on it, making you moan. “This little tail…” his sharp gaze studied you. “Is it inside you?”
You tried to hide your face. “Shh.”
“Panties with a hole, a tail inside you, and cutouts for your nipples.” He spanked your behind. “You spoil me, little rabbit.”
You gripped his broad, muscular shoulders and began bouncing a little faster on him. Feeling his cock sliding inside you along with the plug of the tail, the two pressing together was driving your body insane. You were close to losing it, exploding with pleasure and not knowing what to do. The way Levi fitted your body was as if he was sculpted by a god.
Squelching and slapping filled the room. The plush bed below you shifted and moved to accommodate your bouncing. Now and then, Levi’s hot, wet tongue would find its way to your breasts, as if he was a moon attaching to his planet. Soft presses and movements of your tail by his hand made your body burn with pleasure.
Each movement by you, you thought you were going to break, but Levi stayed strong. It seemed like everything you did only made him stronger and hornier. There was no sign of him cumming anytime soon; you were going to break first, and he was going to make sure you were going to break over and over until you couldn’t think. It seemed that this bunny costume and tail only served his animalistic desires for you.
As your leg slipped a little, Levi caught you. “Tch, oi bunny,” his voice was hoarse and deep, laced with pleasure. “Don’t give up now. You’re so close to cumming.” He reached down and played with your throbbing clit. “Let me help.”
Feeling his dedicated and delicate touch just sent an explosion inside you. Stars began to flicker in the corner of your gaze, your hearing fading, and the sound of your panting and heart all-consuming. This was it, the moment where you would lose it and Levi would remain unfazed and starved for more.
With a flick of your head back, you cried out to the room as if you were seeing a vision from a god. Your orgasm tore through you like a breast ripping through a home trying to find its prize. Levi’s strong hands gripped your hips and kept you moving as your legs failed you. His piercing silver gaze studied you, as if you were an ethereal being giving him his salvation.
“Levi.” You cried. “Fuck. Oh, fuck.”
“Good bunny.” His voice was like a loving purr. “You enjoy that.”
You whined as you cupped Levi’s face, your legs shaking as the last bits of pleasure moved through you with each heartbeat. “You didn’t cum. This whole thing was supposed to get you to cum.”
Levi hugged you closer. “Forgive me, my darling bunny. You’ve treated me to such a delight that I don’t want it to stop.”
You dragged his cock from you before turning back to Levi. “Mean.” You looked over your shoulder at him. “How are you not losing your mind?”
He leaned closer and caressed your tail, causing it to move and pleasure to spark inside you. “Darling bunny.” He moved closer, his cock twitching and glistening in your arousal. “You think I’m done?” He played with your tail, making you shiver in delight. “A bunny still needs to bounce. Bend over for me.”
You leaned forward and presented your behind to him. “Levi.”
He tugged on your ears a little. “If only these were real, I’d love to tug on them.” His cock plunged deep into your aching pussy, filling you and stretching you wide. “Bounce with me, little bunny.”
You mewled a little at the position; you were meant to be in control, and yet you were now putty in his hands. As commanded, you bounced back on his cock, feeling his thighs hit your bum and his body smack your tail. All you could do was grip the bed and cry out as the slapping filled the room once more and your pleasure burned you again.
Levi held your hips, guiding you and moving you. The way you moved, the way your back arched so beautifully, was divine. The two of you kept moving together, chasing your pleasure and your bliss. Your walls massaged his cock so beautifully, and at this angle, he could feel the little tail in you. All the pleasure was intense and addictive.
You looked back at Levi as you panted. “Levi. Mm, does it feel good?”
“It’s incredible. You’re incredible.” His hand collided with your behind, causing you to cry out. “I want you to be a good little bunny for me all night long.”
☆ Day 3+5 of Levi Month 26 | Captain/Civilian + Strength Kink | Event by @levievent
☆ Summary: Trost knows Levi Ackerman as humanity’s strongest soldier. You know him as the difficult customer who repairs your cabinets, drinks your tea, and keeps finding reasons to return after closing.
☆ Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Female Reader
☆ Genre/Tags: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Civilian Reader, Shopkeeper Reader, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Sexual Tension, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Smut
☆ Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, first time, virgin reader, fingering, strength kink, captain kink, standing sex, unprotected piv, creampie
☆ Word Count: 11.5k
☆ Check out the other days!
☆ AO3 Link
☆ a/n: thank you to my beta reader @slaytherinthoughts! please don’t ask for a part two or I will delete the letter L from my keyboard. If you ask for a part two, even jokingly, I will block you.
[ I could not find the original artist. If anyone knows who the OC is, please tell me so I can credit them properly! ]
The afternoon crowd flows into your shop. Somewhere beyond the open windows, wagon wheels clatter over Trost’s cobblestones while merchants shout over one another in the market square. Unfortunately for you, all you hear inside is a woman demanding to know why lamp oil costs more than it did last month and a child ratting a tin of nails despite his mother’s repeated warnings.
“You’re welcome to argue with the merchant who supplies it,” you tell the woman, sliding her purchase across the counter. “Though I should warn you, he’s louder than you are.”
She leaves muttering beneath her breath. You barely have time to breathe before the bell above the door rings again. Every conversation falters, then sinks into small murmurs as multiple customers glance toward the entrance and quickly pretend they haven’t. A man near the shelves steps aside, clutching his basket to his chest.
Captain Levi Ackerman stands just inside the doorway. You recognize him immediately. Everyone in Trost would. His height is less imposing than the stories suggest, but nothing else about him is small. He surveys the crowded shop with a flick of his eyes before they land on you. You straighten your spine without realizing it.
Don’t stare. He’s a customer. A very famous customer, perhaps, but still a customer.
Levi approaches the counter and places a folded sheet of paper in front of you. “Need these.”
His handwriting is immaculate, each item listed with perfect alignment and the quantities written beside it: cleaning cloths, hard soap, lamp oil, leather wax, replacement buckles, stitching needles, and two tins of black tea. You’re not surprised humanity’s strongest soldier has perfect handwriting.
“I’ll get it,” you say.
Levi doesn’t just wait while you work—he inspects everything. He holds one cloth up toward the light, rubbing the fabric between his fingers before setting it down. He tests the buckles and opens one of the lamp-oil bottles to smell it.
“That batch burns clean,” you tell him. “Less smoke than the cheaper kind.”
“How long?”
“Forty hours, assuming the wick is trimmed properly.” Apparently satisfied, he adds the bottle to the growing order. You half-smile. Most people find your explanations irritating. Levi listens to every one. “You’re particular,” you observe as you place the tea tins beside the soap.
“I don’t like buying useless shit,” he says.
“Most customers simply grab whatever is cheapest and complain later when it falls apart.”
“Most people are idiots.”
The answer comes so flatly it pulls a surprised laugh out of you. A few nearby customers peek at you from the corner of their eyes. Levi narrows his eyes slightly, unable to tell if you’re laughing with him or at him.
“Can’t argue with that,” you say.
The final box of replacement straps is trapped on a lower shelf behind a wooden shipping crate delivered that morning. You step around the counter and crouch, planting both hands against its side. The crate doesn’t budge. You push harder, shoes sliding across the floor slightly. Your cheeks burn as you adjust your grip and try again, horrifically aware of the fact that Levi is watching this entire thing.
“Move,” he says.
You turn your head, irritation flaring. “I’m trying to.”
“Not the crate. You.”
You lift yourself with a scowl and step aside, prepared to tell him that the crate is packed with metal tools and will take two people to lift. After all, it took two people when the supply company brought it in the morning. Levi crouches before you can speak. He slides his fingers under the edge of the crate, and then he lifts it. There’s no grunt or even visible tremor of effort. The muscles in his forearms flex beneath his pale skin as he carries the crate a few feet away and lowers it beside the wall without struggle.
You forget entirely about the straps. You’re too busy looking at his hands, then the line of his forearms before common sense finally returns to you and you look away. When Levi straightens, his eyes are already on you. He says nothing. One eyebrow raises before he steps aside, leaving you to retrieve the straps with your face burning.
.
Levi returns fourteen days later. This time, he arrives with two Survey Corps soldiers and a wagon waiting outside. Levi checks the contents on his list while you direct the soldiers toward the stacked crates at the back of the shop.
“Those bottles stay upright,” Levi tells one soldier without looking up. “Unless you want to spend the trip back smelling like lamp oil.”
The soldier immediately rights the crate. You hide your smile behind the ledger.
It becomes a pattern after that. Sometimes Levi arrives with a wagon and several exhausted-looking subordinates. Other times he comes alone, slipping into the shop quietly between the larger groups of customers, waiting near the counter with an order folded neatly inside his jacket pocket.
At first, his visits remain strictly practical. He asks for supplies. You collect them. He inspects them. You exchange money and brief, dry remarks before he leaves. Then, without either of you consciously agreeing to it, the space between those steps starts to fill.
You learn that he dislikes tea blended with dried fruit, considers floral varieties “perfumed water,” and will tolerate nothing weaker than a black tea brewed long enough to become almost bitter. When a merchant from the interior sends you a small shipment of unusually fine leaves, you place two tins beneath the counter before displaying the rest. It makes sense to save them for him—he buys consistently, pays promptly, and never wastes your time haggling over prices.
Still, when he enters a few days later and you give him the hidden tins, the subtle surprise in his eyes feels far more rewarding than it should.
“You kept these aside?” he asks.
“They would’ve sold otherwise,” you say vaguely. He squints his eyes at you, but you busy yourself wrapping the tins in brown paper. “Don’t look too happy. You’re paying full price.”
.
The next month, Levi notices the lower door of the cabinet behind your counter hanging crookedly from one hinge. You’ve already kicked it shut three times that afternoon and intend to repair it eventually, which is what you tell him when he crouches to inspect it.
“You’ve been saying ‘eventually’ since I walked in,” he remarks.
“I’ve been busy.”
“You’ve been kicking it.”
“It closes, doesn’t it?”
“Barely.”
Before you can object, Levi removes a small screwdriver from one of the maintenance kits he’s just purchased, tightens the hinge, adjusts the pin, and opens and closes the door twice to test it. The repair takes less than a minute. You lean against the counter, watching him put the screwdriver back in its case.
“Do you charge for unsolicited maintenance?” you tease.
“You couldn’t afford me,” Levi says dryly.
“Oh ho, arrogant, aren’t we?”
The cabinet never breaks again.
.
Many months and many visits later, you notice the torn edge of one of his canvas supply bags. The seam has split near the strap, likely from carrying too much weight, though when you mention it, Levi looks down at it with a blank expression.
“Leave it,” you say, holding out your hand.
“I need it.”
“You’ll have it back before the order is ready.”
He narrows his eyes. “You sew?”
“I run a supply shop. Things tear.”
He reluctantly passes it over. You mend the seam with a thick thread while he inspects a shipment of buckles, reinforcing the corner so it’ll withstand more abuse than the original stitching. When you return the bag, Levi tests the repair with a pull.
“You don’t have to look so suspicious,” you tell him. “I didn’t lace it with poison."
“Wouldn’t be surprised.”
He brings the bag back on his next visit so clean that it looks newly purchased.
.
By the beginning of summer, you’ve started offering him tea whenever his orders require more than a few minutes to prepare.
The first time, he remains standing at the counter, one hand holding the cup by the rim while he reads through an invoice. The second time, he accepts the narrow stool you drag out from beneath the back table. By the fourth or fifth, he sits without being offered, watching you work silently.
Customers still recognize him, of course, and some continue staring from a distance, but Levi becomes part of the place. He’s as constant as the bell above the door. You would never admit it aloud, but you’re starting to enjoy his presence. Some days, you peer out the window, hoping to catch a glance of his undercut or short stature headed toward your shop.
“How’s business?” he asks one afternoon while you wrap bars of soap. Based on your interactions with other soldiers, you’re convinced only Levi uses it.
You look up, a little taken aback by the question. “Are you worried I’ll close and force you to buy inferior tea elsewhere?”
“No, so answer the question.”
“Busy. But merchants raised their prices again.”
Levi frowns, not at you but at the numbers written in your ledger. “You making enough?”
You can sense the small hint of concern in his voice, hidden beneath the bluntness. You lower your gaze before you can give yourself away—the joy you feel from being asked. “Enough,” you assure him.
After that, you begin asking questions too. You never ask for expedition details; civilians quickly learn that there are answers they truly don’t want to hear. Instead, you ask whether the day went well, whether the recruits listened, whether the commander has finally stopped drowning him in paperwork. His replies are usually brief, yet he answers every time.
Occasionally, he arrives with a hand wrapped in bandages, bruises disappearing under his collar, or exhaustion painted in dark shadows beneath his eyes. At first, you ask what happened.
“Training.”
“An idiot with bad aim.”
“Nothing worth discussing.”
Eventually, you stop asking. You simply add a small tin of salve to his order when his knuckles are split, or tuck fresh bandages beneath the cleaning cloths. The first time he notices, he sets the bandages back onto the counter.
“These aren’t on the list," he says.
“I know that.”
“I didn’t pay for them.”
“I know that too.”
Levi studies you for an uncomfortable moment. You prepare yourself for an argument, but he places them back inside of the bag and says, “Don’t make a habit of it.”
Unfortunately for him, you already have.
.
As autumn thins into winter, his schedule changes. The afternoon visits become early-evening visits, arriving when the crowds have faded and sunset pours orange light through the front windows. Soon, he begins appearing as you sweep the floor or count the coins in the till.
“You know, the hours are painted on the door for a reason,” you tell him one evening.
Levi looks toward the sign. “Paint them to open later.”
“I can’t change my business hours like that.”
“Seems inefficient.”
“So does waiting until the last possible moment to buy supplies.”
“Military emergencies don’t arrange themselves around your schedule.”
“Neither do I.”
Yet you always serve him. Worse, you begin to expect him.
On evenings when the Survey Corps is due back from training or when you know an expedition is approaching, you leave the lamp in the front window burning after sunset. There’s inventory to finish and shelves to dust, but despite telling yourself all that, you find yourself looking toward the door whenever footsteps sound outside.
Most nights, he doesn’t come. On those nights, the shop feels hollow, and you resent it enough to extinguish the lamp earlier than you wanted to.
One night, Levi arrives after you have already locked the door. You’re standing behind the counter with the day’s ledger open when his silhouette appears beyond the glass, briefly illuminated by the streetlamp outside. He sees the sign turned to Closed, then notices you through the window. You look up and lock eyes with him. Neither of you moves. Then Levi lifts his hand in a small acknowledgement and turns away.
You abandon the ledger, hurry around the counter, and fumble with the lock. “Levi!” His name leaves your mouth, and only a few seconds later do you realize you used it without his title.
He stops. The street is nearly empty, the market long since abandoned, and cold air spills into the shop as you pull the door open. Levi turns slowly, his eyes dropping from your face to the hand still gripping the door handle.
“Aren't you forgetting something?” you ask, slightly breathless.
“You’re closed.”
“I noticed.”
“I can come back.”
“You’re already here, though.”
He hesitates before stepping inside, and you shut the door behind him, sliding the lock back into place. Levi looks toward the darkened street outside, then at the single lamp glowing in your window.
“You shouldn’t stay here alone this late.”
“I’m not wandering home through an alley,” you say, nodding toward the narrow staircase behind the counter. “I live upstairs.”
“That doesn’t stop someone from coming through the door.”
Despite yourself, you smile. There’s something about his irritation that warms your heart. It’s mere concern disguised as disapproval. “Then it’s fortunate humanity’s strongest soldier is with me, isn’t it?”
Levi gives you the flat look you expect from him, but he doesn’t answer at first. He looks at you smiling before turning toward the counter, and although his expression remains composed, the tips of his ears seem slightly darker than they were outside.
“Make the damn tea before you say anything else stupid,” he says.
You turn away to hide your widening smile, reaching for the tin you’ve kept beneath the counter specifically for him.
.
The Survey Corps’ order arrives three days before their next expedition, written across two sheets of parchment instead of Levi’s usual one. By midday, nearly every clear surface in the shop has disappeared beneath stacks of cloth, leather, tools, medical supplies, herbs, and enough tea to sustain an entire regiment—or Levi alone through one particularly irritating week.
By the time he arrives, the afternoon sky has paled to a wintery grey. A wagon waits outside the shop with its rear gate lowered. Cold air slips through the open doorway. Levi enters without the soldier who ordinarily accompanies him. Moblit, you think his name was.
“Your help abandon you?” you ask, looking past him toward the empty wagon.
“Delayed at headquarters,” Levi answers.
“Convenient.”
“For him, maybe.”
You suppress a smile and lead Levi toward the back of the shop, where the largest portion of the order has been packed into a broad wooden crate reinforced with iron at each corner. It contains bottles, tools, hardware, and several heavy bundles of treated leather, all arranged tightly enough that nothing shifts when the box is pushed. It had required both you and the deliveryman to move it away from the wall that morning.
You place one hand on its lid. “This one will need two people.”
Levi looks at the crate, then at you. “No, it won’t.” Before you can explain how heavy it is, he steps forward and crouches, slipping his hands beneath the edges. The wood creaks faintly beneath his grip, then he lifts. The crate rises from the floor in one smooth motion and for a startled second, all you can do is watch.
His forearms clench beneath the rolled cuffs of his shirt, muscle shifting visibly as he adjusts the weight against his body. The fabric pulls across his shoulders and upper arms, revealing the strength hidden beneath his uniform. It’s easy to overlook just how much power he carries.
He doesn’t grunt or stagger. There’s only a subtle deepening of his breath and the steady placement of each boot as he crosses the shop. You know exactly how heavy that crate is. That knowledge makes the sight infinitely worse.
Heat gathers low in your stomach with humiliating speed, enough to make your thighs press together beneath your long skirt. This is stupid. You’ve seen men carry stock before. You’ve hired laborers with broader shoulders and arms twice the width of Levi’s, and none of them have ever aroused you by simply picking up a box.
But none of them are Levi.
Levi carries the crate through the doorway and lowers it into the wagon without dropping or dragging it. When he returns, flexing his fingers once, he finds you still standing beside the empty space where the crate was. Staring. He narrows his eyes slightly.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks.
You shake your head lightly. “Nothing.”
“You look… strange.”
“The shop is warm,” you say quickly.
Levi turns his head toward the open door. A cold gust sweeps inside at that exact moment, raising goosebumps on your arms. You curse yourself in your mind as Levi returns his gaze to you.
“Right,” he says.
You retreat toward the remaining supplies before he can say anything else. “There are two smaller boxes left.”
“I can see that.”
“They can be taken separately.”
Levi looks at you, then at the boxes. For the briefest moment, the corner of his mouth twitches. He stacks one on top of the other and lifts. You stare as he adjusts them against his chest, his arms wrapping securely around both. He doesn’t need to carry them together. You know it, and judging by the way he shifts his grip before looking directly at you, he knows it too.
“Show off,” you mutter.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
This time, the faintest smirk appears before he turns toward the wagon.
.
Afterward, his behavior becomes suspicious. On his next visit, Levi rolls his sleeves past his elbows before moving a stack of supply boxes, despite the shop being cold enough that you keep your own sleeves buttoned at the wrists. He carries four shovels when two would have been sensible, the muscle in his arms tightening beneath the weight while you lose your place twice in the ledger.
The following week, he steps behind you to examine a tin stored on the upper shelf, bracing one hand against the wood beside your head instead of simply asking you to move. His chest nearly touches your back, his body surrounding you.
“How old is this batch?” he asks close to your ear.
Your thoughts are completely empty. “Recent.”
“How specific.”
“It arrived…” You swallow. “Tuesday.”
Levi hums, reaching over you for the tin. Your voice has gone embarrassingly thin, and from the slight tilt of his head, he notices.
The final confirmation comes several weeks later when you climb onto a stool to retrieve a box from the top shelf. The moment you pull it forward, another box shifts beside it, sliding toward the edge before you can catch it. Levi moves faster. One hand catches the falling box. His other arm circles your waist and draws you backward against him, steadying both you and the stool before either can topple.
For one suspended second, you’re pressed firmly to his chest, his forearm tight across your middle and his fingers spread against your side. “You trying to kill yourself?” he asks.
“No,” you breathe.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
He sets the box aside but doesn’t immediately release you. Your hand has landed over his arm. Beneath your palm, the muscle remains taut from holding your weight, and your fingers clench before you can stop them. Levi’s gaze drops to the contact.
Then he looks at your face. There’s no mistaking the satisfaction in his eyes now. He’s been doing it deliberately.
Levi knows he should find your staring irritating. He has spent years enduring people gawking at him, but your attention feels different. You watch his hands and arms with open hunger, yes, but you’re also the person who notices when those hands are bandaged, who slips salve into his orders without demanding explanations and leaves the window lamp burning when his duties keep him late.
He likes the little hitch in your breath when he stands too close. He likes watching your confident words tangle whenever he rolls his sleeves higher. And, perhaps most dangerously, he likes knowing that he can make you look at him that way.
Levi steadies the stool beneath you and finally steps back. “You should be more careful,” he says.
You turn, narrowing your eyes at the calm expression he has arranged over his face. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He reaches for the heaviest box on the floor. This time, he rolls his sleeves up first.
.
Cold falls over Trost early in the evening. The cobblestone glitters faintly beneath a thin layer of frost. Most of the market has gone dark hours ago, yet the lamp in your front window continues to burn.
You’ve already looked over the ledger twice. The shelves are dusted. The floor is swept. The till is counted. There’s no practical reason for you to remain in the shop. Still, you sit behind the counter with a book open before you, rereading the same paragraph while listening for footsteps beyond the glass.
When they finally come, your heart jumps. Levi appears with his cloak wrapped around him. He slows when he sees the illuminated window, then glances at the hours painted on the door sign. You’re out of your chair before he can turn away. You swing open the door.
“You’re late,” you say.
Levi looks past you into the empty shop. “You’re still open.”
“For the moment.”
He steps inside, bringing a rush of bitter air with him. You close the door quickly before locking it again. Levi watches your hand leave the handle.
“Why are you still down here?” he asks.
You move toward the counter, pretending to straighten the book you abandoned. “I had work.”
“The work you finished hours ago?”
Your head snaps toward him. “How would you know?”
“The floor’s dry, the ledger’s closed, and you’ve been staring at that same page since I reached the window.”
Damn him for noticing. You fold your arms. “You’ve been coming later.”
His expression shifts, only slightly. “You stayed open for me?”
“Well, I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Heat rises in your cheeks despite the cold in the room. You turn away under the excuse of examining the small list he places on the counter. Two tins of tea. One spool of heavy black thread.
“That’s it?” you ask.
“That’s what the list says.”
“This could’ve waited until morning.” You look up, but Levi meets your eyes without looking away. The certainty in them makes something warm unspool in your gut. You clear your throat. “You want tea?” He nods. You retreat into the small room behind the shop.
A narrow table stands beside the stove, surrounded by crates, jars, and half-cartons waiting to be sorted. While the water heats, Levi removes his cloak and drapes it neatly over the back of a chair, then shrugs out of his uniform jacket. The pale shirt beneath fits tight against his muscles. The sleeves are already rolled to his forearms.
You turn toward the upper shelf for the tea tin, stretching onto your toes. Your fingers brush its edge, but as you pull it forward, the heavy ceramic container beside it tips. Levi moves before you can recoil. One hand catches the container inches from your head. His other arm grabs you, pulling you back and against his chest as the shelf rattles above.
The tin is secure in your hand, but your other one is flat against him, pressed over his chest. Beneath the thin fabric, you feel hard muscle clenching. Levi’s breath warms your temple. His arm remains locked around your waist, his fingers spread along your side. He could easily lift you if he chose. You shake the thought out of your head before it can take root.
Then, because you’re incapable of feeling humiliated right now, you press your fingers slightly into his chest. Levi lowers the container to the table, his gaze dropping to your palm.
“Finished inspecting me?” he asks.
Your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. “Not particularly.”
Silence expands between you. Levi’s eyes lift slowly to yours, and the amusement there is unmistakable now. Something hotter lingers underneath that makes your pulse trip. “That so?”
“You’ve been distracting me for months.”
“By buying supplies?”
“By carrying them.” His mouth twitches. You squint. “You smug asshole. Stop it.”
“I’m not smug.”
“Yes, you are.”
Levi loosens his hold enough for you to turn within the circle of his arm, though he doesn’t step away. The closeness forces you to tilt your face upward. His voice drops. “Is that why you keep finding heavier things for me to move?”
You stare at him. “What? I don’t—”
“The crate of tools.”
“That was part of the order.”
“The bookshelf.”
“It needed moving.”
“The box you put back on the highest shelf after I carried it down.” You open your mouth, then shut it, embarrassed. Levi’s faint smirk deepens. “You’re not subtle.” Your name drops from his lips.
“You knew?”
“I suspected after the first crate.”
“You leaned over me to reach a shelf you could’ve asked me to move from too.”
“You were blocking it.”
You search his face, catching the satisfaction he no longer bothers to hide. “You’ve been doing it on purpose.”
Levi’s thumb shifts once against your waist. “Mm, you kept staring.”
For months, every late visit, every cup of tea, every unnecessarily heavy box has been leading here. The realization fills you with a sudden, reckless courage. You may not have any experience in this department, but the feeling inside you is too full to keep hidden.
“So you like it,” you say.
“Like what?”
“When I stare.”
His eyes darken. “Depends where you’re looking.”
Your breath hitches and Levi sees it, the smugness in his expression becoming nearly unbearable. You decide you’ve had enough and grip the front of his shirt before kissing him. For a second, Levi freezes. The stillness sends panic flashing through you—I misread him, I pushed too far—but before you can pull away, his hand closes firmly around your waist and drags you flush against him. He kisses you back.
All the restraint he’s carried through a year of visits seems to break at once. His mouth moves against yours hungrily, his other hand sliding to the back of your neck. He has no intention of allowing distance between you now that it’s fully disappeared. You clutch at his shoulders, feeling his muscles shift beneath your hands as he turns you and presses you against the edge of the table. A quiet sound escapes you. Levi swallows it, tightening his grip.
When he finally draws back, both of you are breathing harder than the kiss should justify, your foreheads nearly touching. Levi looks toward the tea kettle on the stove, then he looks back at your mouth.
“Tea’s waiting,” he says.
You smile. “I don’t really care.”
“Neither do I.”
His mouth comes down on yours again, and this time, there’s no hesitation left in it. He resents every wasted day. He could’ve had this all along. His hand slides from your waist to the curve of your hip, fingers pressing in through the fabric of your dress. The other hand remains at the nape of your neck, angling your face so he can take his time stealing the breath from you. When you make a soft sound into his mouth, Levi pulls back to look at you.
“A little lifting, a little showing off, and you’re half out of your mind,” he teases.
Heat floods your face, but there’s no use pretending now. Not after the way you kissed him. Not with his arm still caging you in and his mouth swollen from yours. “I hate you.”
“Something tells me you’re lying.”
Before you can answer, he slips both hands to your waist and lifts you. The gasp rips out of you before you can stop it. One moment your feet are on the floor, and the next, you’re perched on the edge of the table as though you weigh nothing at all. Levi stands between your knees, an unmistakable satisfaction in his gaze. The motion is so easy and effortless that your stomach flips hard with arousal.
“Pathetic,” he says softly, and there’s a cruel little curve to his mouth that tells you he intends the word to land like a caress instead of an insult. “You like that this much?”
You swallow and fail to hide how your legs instinctively spread a little wider for him, inviting him closer. “You know I do.”
“I do now.”
He fits himself between your thighs, moving in until the warmth of him is everywhere. Your hands go to his shoulders for balance, then slide upward, fingers brushing the undercut at the back of his head. Levi exhales through his nose, the sound almost like a warning, and then kisses you again with more force than before. His hands travel over you, one splaying against your back, the other smoothing down your side and over your thigh before gripping beneath your knee and hiking your leg higher around his hip.
Your mind dissolves into sensation. The heat of his body. His shirt brushing against the fabric of your dress. The roll of his hips that lets you feel exactly how hard he is already. The realization sends a jolt through you, strong enough that you clutch at him. Levi breaks the kiss just long enough to catch your expression.
“Oh, that got your attention,” he says.
You glare at him, breathless and flushed. “If you’re going to keep talking, at least do something useful with your mouth.”
One eyebrow lifts. “Bossy.”
He obeys, though. His mouth drags along your jaw and to the side of your throat, where he kisses twice before biting lightly enough to make you shiver. You tip your head back without permission. Levi’s hands tighten on you when he feels the surrender in it. The small approving sound he makes against your skin sends another pulse of heat low through your belly.
The kettle begins to rattle on the stove. Neither of you pays any attention to it—until it begins to whistle a moment later, stupidly domestic against the way Levi is kissing down your throat like he means to ruin you before the tea ever reaches the cups. He lifts his head, annoyance flashing over his face.
“Damn thing,” he mutters.
You laugh shakily, and that undoes the last thread of his patience. Levi reaches for the kettle, yanks it off the heat without taking his eyes off you, and sets it aside. Then he turns back, hooks his arms under you, and lifts you again. You gasp and instinct makes your arms loop around his neck while your legs wrap around his waist. He doesn’t even brace. He simply picks you up and presses your weight against him. It’s so easy, and it leaves you utterly pulsing. Levi feels your thighs tighten around his hips. He knows exactly what this is doing to you. The faint smirk at the corner of his mouth confirms it.
Levi starts up the stairs and doesn’t strain in the slightest. His shoulder nearly brushes one side on the turn, yet he climbs with ease. One step, then the next, utterly untroubled by the fact that he’s carrying your full weight in his arms while you cling to him. He isn’t breathing hard. His pulse doesn’t stumble beneath your palm where it rests against his pulse point. He simply carries you like this is the easiest thing in the world. You press closer without meaning to.
He reaches the landing and nudges your bedroom door open with his foot, carrying you inside. Your room is simple. The bed is neatly made—at least from what Levi can see in the dark. He makes out the shape of a folded shawl resting over the chair by the window. A brush lies on the dresser. Ordinary things. He lays you back on the bed with more care than you expect before he reaches to light a lamp. Then he returns to you, his hands braced beside your shoulders as he leans over you and kisses you again, savoring the fact that he finally can. You grip his shirt and hold him there.
When you break apart, you both remain close. Then, you ask, “How far are we…” You pause, clearing your throat. “How far are we going tonight?”
Levi stills. His expression shifts, some of the heat fading into a more serious tone. “As far as you want. No further.”
You look at his collar instead of his eyes when you speak. “I haven’t done this before.”
For the first time all evening, Levi looks caught off guard. Enough for you to see the brief flicker of surprise, followed by something rarer: nerves. It’s subtle, almost hidden under his natural stoicism, but it’s there. His gaze drops for a moment, then returns to yours with more caution than before.
“You mean at all?” he asks. You nod. He exhales slowly through his nose. One of his hands leaves the bed to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. His thumb lingers at your temple.
He’s been with women before. He knows how to make a body respond, how to use his mouth and hands, how to be careful when it’s required and rough when it’s wanted. But this is you. You, who saved the expensive tea for him. You, you waited with the lamp lit at night. The idea of your first time being with him should make him unbelievably happy, and it does, but layered beneath that is an unwelcome thread of concern.
What if you regret this? What if afterward you look at him and realize you wanted the idea more than reality? What if he’s not what you deserve for this?
“You should think about that,” he says, lower now. “About whether this is really what you want.”
“It is.”
“You’re saying that while I’m on top of you.”
You almost smile despite your nerves. “Would you prefer I write a strongly worded letter first?”
A breath of dry amusement leaves him. “No.”
You reach up and touch his face, brushing your thumb near the corner of his mouth. “I want this,” you say softly. “I want it with you.” You hesitate only a second before forcing yourself to add the rest. “As long as you’re not planning to disappear tomorrow and pretend this never happened.”
Levi’s eyes sharpen at the thought of it. His hand closes over yours where it rests against his cheek, holding it there. “Do I seem like that kind of bastard?”
“You seem like many kinds of bastard.”
The draws the faintest huff from him. Then his expression turns serious again, stripped bare. He leans down and presses his mouth to yours once. “I’m not walking away from you after this,” he says against your lips. “Couldn’t, even if I wanted to.”
The words are simple, but the meaning inside them lands so hard your throat tightens. Levi doesn’t say the softer thing plainly. He probably never will. Yet you hear it anyway, those three words, there in the certainty of his voice and in the way his hand cradles your face.
“I want you to stay,” you whisper.
“I’m here.”
You nod, gather your courage, and say the words that matter. “I want this.”
Levi searches your face one last time. Whatever he sees there satisfies him. The tension in his shoulders eases slightly, replaced by concentration. “Then let me take care of you.”
He sits back enough to begin undoing your clothes. He doesn’t rush and is careful with each fastening. When he loosens your dress and slides it from your shoulders, his gaze follows. You help where you can, lifting, shifting, letting the dress fall away until you’re left in your underwear beneath his stare. A shiver runs through you.
He removes the rest, pausing each time your breathing changes, giving you space to stop him if you so choose. You never do. By the time you lie bare beneath him, your skin feels oversensitive everywhere his eyes touch. Being looked at by him nearly makes you hide, but his hand slides up your calf, over your knee, and across your thigh, and you can’t seem to think of covering yourself when his touch feels like that.
“You’re beautiful,” he says.
Your face burns. “Levi—”
“Don’t start arguing.”
You laugh softly, then gasp when his hand reaches the inside of your thigh and parts you. His gaze drops. The expression that crosses his face at the sight of how wet you already are sends a shameless jolt of warmth through you.
“All this from me carrying a few boxes?” he teases.
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” you sigh.
“Not a chance.”
He bends and kisses you again while his fingers stroke through the slickness between your thighs, teasing at first. You jolt when he brushes over the sensitive little bud and he makes a low sound of approval into your mouth. You reach for him, for anything, one hand catching in his shirt. He draws circles over your clit while kissing along your jaw and throat, and the pleasure rises quickly, making your hips twitch against his hand.
“Easy, I’ve got you,” he murmurs. Then one finger slides lower and presses at your entrance. You tense instantly. Levi lifts his head to look at you. “Look at me.” You do. His eyes hold yours. “You can tell me if something doesn’t feel right. Understand?”
“Yes.”
He nods and eases his finger inside you slowly, giving your body time to adjust around the intrusion. The sensation makes you suck in a breath. It’s not unpleasant. His free hand smooths up your side. You try to relax. It helps that he keeps kissing you between instructions. His finger moves carefully, curling just enough to make your breath hitch. The tightness begins to fade, and you part your thighs wider.
Levi notices and rewards it by adding another finger only when you’re ready, stretching you gently, patient despite the fact that his own breathing has grown heavier and the front of his pants strains visibly now. He doesn’t rush, even when you clench around him, even when you make a tiny sound that nearly drives him to the edge. He’s intent on preparing you properly.
You’re a mess by the time he’s finished. Flushed, damp, squirming against the sheets, thighs trembling around his hand while he works you open and keeps your pleasure just shy of too much. When he finally withdraws his fingers, your body protests with an empty ache. Levi brings his slick fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean without looking away from you. The sight nearly makes your soul leave your body. He sees that too, bastard that he is.
“Thought you might like that,” he smirks.
“You’re horrible,” you whine.
“And you’re soaked.” You cover your face with one hand, mortified and too aroused to care properly. Levi grabs your wrist and draws it away. “Don’t hide.”
Then he stands to undress. There’s no vanity in the way he removes his clothes. You stare at him greedily while he strips with no hint of self-consciousness at all. Shirt first, revealing his muscled chest, then the rest. When he pushes his pants and briefs down and steps free of them, your breath catches hard enough that his mouth curves.
He’s large. Larger than what you felt pressed against you downstairs. Large enough that you feel your stomach turn with anxiety despite everything else. Levi sees it immediately and some of the smugness drains from his expression. He climbs back onto the bed and settles over you, one hand stroking your thigh.
“We’ll go slow,” he says.
You nod, forcing air back into your lungs. “I trust you.”
He bends, kisses you deep, and when he positions himself at your entrance, his forehead presses briefly to yours. The first push inside makes both of you stop. You tense around him with a soft whimper, the stretch intense, bordering on pain exactly as you feared. Levi stops at once, one arm braces beside your head while the other grips your hip.
“Breathe,” he says, his voice strained now. “Slowly.”
You try. He kisses your cheek, your mouth, your temple, anywhere he can reach while waiting for your body to ease. The tenderness of it steals some of the discomfort away. He murmurs low reassurances you barely even register as words, only tone. Inch by inch, he sinks farther in, stopping whenever your face pinches, giving you time, letting your body accept him at its own pace.
When he’s fully inside you, the feeling is overwhelming. Full, stretching, intimate in a way that knocks the breath from you all over again. Tears prick faintly at the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity.
“We can stop if you want,” Levi says.
You shark your head, fingers gripping his shoulders. “No. Just… stay for a second.”
He does. His chest rises and falls against yours. You can feel the effort it takes him not to move yet, not to chase his own relief when your body is wrapped so tightly around him. There’s tension all through him, each muscle held on a leash. The knowledge of that, of how much strength he’s containing for your sake, sends a throbbing ache through you even now.
The discomfort ebbs slowly. “I think…” You swallow. “You can move.”
Levi searches your face one more time before he obeys. He draws out only a little before easing back in, the first slow stroke unbearably careful. The friction is different now, no longer a stretch or an ache. It’s a full feeling that makes your lips part on a shaky breath. Levi watches your face the entire time, gaze flicking over every minute change in your expression. Your hands grip his shoulders when he shifts his hips and finds a deeper angle.
“That better?” he asks, the low rasp of it sending a tremor through you.
“Yes,” you whisper. “Gods… yes.”
He moves again, still slow, his control so complete it almost makes you dizzy. Each thrust is a little deeper once your body gives him permission. The bed creaks softly beneath you. The lamp on your nightstand throws gold over the planes of his face and shoulders, over the darkness of his hair falling slightly loose at the front.
This is Levi. In your bed. Inside you. The thought lands so hard in you that your thighs tremble where they surround his hips. He notices that, and his hand slides down your side and over your thigh in response, thumb stroking once at the sensitive skin there while he keeps moving patiently.
“Still with me?” he asks.
You manage a breathless huff that might have been a laugh. “You ask that while doing this?”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” Your fingers climb into his hair, tugging lightly. “Don’t stop.”
“Bossy again.” His mouth returns to yours before you can answer, swallowing the small sound that escapes you when he rolls his hips and sinks in more fully. The kiss is slower than the ones downstairs.
Levi had expected nerves and expected the need he’s been suppressing for months to make him clumsy with it. But he hadn’t expected this feeling each time you look at him. He wants to make this good for you. Wants it so fiercely that it unsettles him, because he’s wanted bodies before, wanted release, wanted the fleeting distraction of skin and sweat, but this is different. This is you looking up at him from his bed—no, your bed, damn it—with flushed cheeks and parted lips and your hand in his hair. He realizes he could very easily hurt you by being careless.
So he keeps it slow. He kisses your throat, your jaw, the corner of your mouth while he finds a rhythm gentle enough for your first time and deep enough to keep his own control from snapping in half. Your body adjusts around him, the remaining sting fading beneath the building pleasure. You no longer feel the ache. Soon you’re arching into him slightly when he thrusts, seeking more.
The fullness that felt almost too much at first has become delicious, each stroke dragging against something inside you that leaves your breath catching higher every time. He presses a kiss below your ear and you wrap your legs around him further. That earns a low sound from him, a mix between a breath and a growl.
“Easy,” he mutters.
“You’re the one telling me to relax.”
“You’re the one squeezing me like that.”
Your face goes scarlet. “Levi—”
“Mm.” He lifts his head enough to look at you, eyes half-lidded now, his restraint beginning to crack around the edges. “Keep doing it.”
The answer that slips from you is embarrassingly needy. Levi’s mouth curves again. He braces more of his weight on one arm and brings the other hand down between your bodies, fingers seeking the place he made you squirm under his touch before. When his thumb strokes your clit, you jerk with a broken gasp.
“There,” he says.
The added pleasure is immediate and enough to numb your mind, if only for a moment. Your heels dig into the mattress. Levi keeps thrusting slowly while circling your sensitive bundle of nerves, giving you too much and not enough at the same time. Every pass of his thumb sends sparks racing through you.
You’ve never felt anything like this. Nothing in your imagination, nothing in those half-embarrassed late-night thoughts about his hands, his forearms, the ease with which he could move supplies and you along with them, comes close to the reality of him using his body on yours.
“Levi,” you breathe, clutching at him.
He hums against your throat. “Tell me.”
“I—” The words snag on another wave of pleasure. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
His hand gentles for a beat, thumb stroking slower as his forehead touches yours. “You don’t need to know. Just feel it.”
You do. You feel all of it. Him sliding in and out of you. The strain in his body as he holds back for you. The roughness of his palm against your thigh. The pressure building between your legs. Your body answering him more greedily than you knew it could.
He shifts, reaching for your hands. At first, you think he means only to lace his fingers with yours, but instead he draws both of your wrists up above your head and presses them into the mattress with one hand. A tiny noise escapes you. Levi freezes for a second, then looks down at your face, feeling your pulse jumping beneath his grip. He sees the sudden dilation of your pupils and your thighs spreading more willingly beneath him. A slow, wicked recognition dawns.
“Oh,” he says, and this time the smugness in him is pure sin. “I almost forgot.”
“F-forgot what?”
His next thrust is a little firmer, enough to make you squirm beneath him while his hand keeps your wrists pinned in place with ease. “You like this, don’t you?” You turn your face away instantly, mortified. Levi shakes his head. “No. Look at me.”
When you hesitate, he gives your wrists the slightest reminder press and drags his thumb over your clit again. The helpless sound you make forces your eyes back to his.
“Answer me,” he says.
You can’t even pretend. Not when your whole body is betraying you like this, gut coiling tighter every time he holds you down and moves inside you. “Yes,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes what?”
You glare at him as best you can while half-melting under him. “Yes, I like it.”
“Like what, exactly?” You make a muffled sound of frustration, but he only tilts his head down at you as the corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re stalling.”
Your face burns so badly it feels feverish. He waits, mercilessly patient, still rolling into you that makes thinking impossible. “It’s your strength,” you finally confess in a rush. “Alright? I—I think it’s insanely hot. You move me like I weigh nothing, you—” Your voice breaks when he ruts into you suddenly. “The way you can do this.”
“Insanely hot,” he repeats, testing the words.
You regret talking. But he doesn’t laugh or mock you. The hand around your wrists loosens just enough for him to slide his fingers down and intertwine them with yours instead. Then he lets go entirely and sits back on his heels, withdrawing from you, making you whimper at the loss.
“Levi—”
“Up.”
You barely have time to prop yourself on your elbows before he slides his hands under you and lifts you off the mattress. A startled gasp leaves you as you rise into his arms once more. Instinct makes your legs wrap around his waist, arms clutching around his shoulders. With you hanging onto him, he slides his cock back into you. Your head falls back with a broken cry.
The angle is different like this—deeper, somehow. Levi’s hands settle beneath your thighs and around your back, supporting your weight effortlessly while he stands planted on the floor. Not a shake. Not a stumble. His breathing deepens, yes, and a line appears between his brows from the strain of restraint, but his hold on you is secure. You cling harder.
“Oh my gods—”
Levi’s mouth brushes your jaw, the words almost a kiss. “This what you wanted?”
You can’t answer properly. He gives you one shallow thrust, then another, each movement lifting you slightly on his cock. You dig your nails into his shoulders. The sheer indecency of being held up like this while he fucks into you sends a white-hot rush through your body. He feels the way you squeeze around him and huffs a dark laugh against your skin.
“Thought so.”
You bury your face against his neck. His skin is warm, smelling of soap and the cold air he brought in from outside. Every thrust jolts through you. Every time his arms flex under you to keep you lifted, your mind goes blank.
Levi had known your fixation of his strength aroused him. He hadn’t anticipated how much. Holding you like this, feeling you cling and gasp and grow wetter every time he proves exactly what he can do, is doing ugly, wonderful things to his self-control. There’s a possessive pride in it, a hot satisfaction each time your body answers to him. You like that he can carry you. That he can pin you down. That he can lift and hold and fuck you all at the same time. The knowledge goes straight to his cock, straight to that selfish place in him that wants every pretty reaction wrung from you by his hands alone.
He thrusts harder. The sound that comes out of you is wrecked, and Levi closes his eyes for one second as it shudders through him. “That’s it. Hold on,” he mutters.
You do. Dear gods, you do. Your legs lock tighter around his waist and you cling to his shoulders while he sets a steadier pace, more confident in what your body can take. Your own little cries fill the room, thin and breathless at first, then louder when Levi’s mouth finds your throat and he bites lightly there before soothing the spot with his tongue.
“Levi—
“Mm?”
“You’re—” A thrust cuts the sentence in half. “You’re really doing this.”
He actually scoffs, the arrogant bastard. “You sound surprised.”
“You’re just—” You can’t think. His hips snap up again and your whole body jolts in his arms. “Strong.”
The praise lands visibly. His grip tightens. His next thrust is deeper. “Keep talking like that and I’ll forget to be nice.” The warning should be alarming. Instead it sends a thrill through you, and you moan outright. Levi lifts his head, eyes narrowing. “You’d like that too, wouldn’t you?” Your expression must answer for you, because his mouth curves in disbelief and hunger. “You’re filthier than I thought.”
“Says the man holding me up and—ah—fucking me.”
The pleasure is building so high now you feel almost lightheaded from it, every thrust feeding it, every subtle flex of his arms reminding you that he is truly just holding you there, using strength and balance and pure controlled force to keep you suspended on him. Your cunt clenches around his cock. Levi’s hand leaves the back of your thigh for a moment to slip between your bodies, fingers finding your clit again. You nearly sob.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says, and the endearment is so unexpected, so warm in the middle of all his rough control, that it makes your whole body flutter around him. “Doing so well.”
Sweetheart. The word goes through you like lightning. Levi feels it instantly, the way you tighten, the way your nails dig in, the way your breath turns ragged. He groans under his breath and rubs firmer circles against your clit, pushing you closer to the edge you only half understand.
“Come on. Let me see it.”
Your head tips back. The room blurs in amber and shadow. All you can feel is him—inside you, around you, beneath your hands, holding you up. Your lips find his ear. You barely know what you’re saying until it spills out.
“Captain—”
He stills just enough to suck in a sharp breath. Then his entire body goes tighter. The title out of your mouth, here, now, in that tone, hits him somewhere primitive. His eyes flash. The hand at your back slides higher, gripping harder, and the next thrust lands with enough force to rip a cry from you. His restraint splinters a little more with each movement after that. Not reckless, never that, but harder. Hungrier. He fucks you with a rougher rhythm that leaves your body jolting in his arms.
“Say that again,” he says, voice ragged.
Your brain is melting, but you obey. “Captain.”
“Again.”
“Captain—”
“Fuck.”
His head drops to your shoulder. You feel the hot burst of his breath against your skin, the strain in his body as he drives up into you with a tempo that makes your eyes roll back. His hand works your clit between thrusts, and the pressure inside you turns unbearable in the best possible way, coiling tighter and tighter.
He’s close. You can feel it in the way his control roughens and his breathing finally falters. Every muscle in his arms and stomach hardens when you clench around him. He lifts his head enough to look at you, pupils blown wide. “Tell me where.”
You blink, dazed. “What?”
“Where do you want it?” His voice is all gravel now, barely held together. “I’m not pulling out unless you tell me to.”
The question goes through you with another violent rush of arousal. You think of the tea tucked in your cupboard, the bitter contraceptive brew you bought once from a woman in the market after too many whispered warnings from older shopkeepers.
“I have the tea,” you gasp. “The contraceptive one.” He watches your face, making sure. You nod frantically. “Inside. Please.”
That does it.
Levi’s eyes close for one shuddering moment, as if the permission hits him almost too hard to process. When he opens them again, they are dark and wrecked. Then he kisses you, hard and deep, and thrusts up into you three more times, each one stronger than the last.
The final one has your whole body shaking in his arms. Levi comes with a strangled groan against your mouth, cock pulsing inside you as he fills you. The sensation is so intimate, so overwhelming, that you moan into the kiss and cling to him like you’ll fall apart if you don’t. He stays buried in you while the force of it takes him, forehead pressed to yours now, breaths finally breaking rough from his chest. His arms never loosen. Even at the peak of his own release, he holds you securely, never letting your weight slip for a second.
When the shuddering in him begins to ease, Levi kisses your cheek, your temple, the corner of your eye, all those tiny places with a gentleness that feels almost dazed. Then he carries you the two steps back to the bed and lowers you onto the mattress carefully. He doesn’t pull out. He braces over you, still inside you, one hand slipping between your legs again while the other strokes your hair back from your damp face. You’re still drifting, still trying to understand what just happened to your body, when his fingers find your clit and begin rubbing slow, slick circles.
You jolt. “Levi—”
“You haven’t finished.”
“I think I might die.”
“Not tonight.”
There’s the faintest thread of dry humor in it, but his expression is intent. Focused. He watches your face the way he did when he first touched you, reading every shift in your breath, every twist of your hips. His cock softens only slightly inside you, still warm and filling, and the combination of that lingering fullness with the precise pressure of his fingers drives the pleasure back up almost immediately, harder to escape.
You grab at his wrist. “It’s too much.”
His free hand catches yours and pins it gently to the mattress beside your head. He knows you’re close to shying away from what you want. “No,” he says quietly, firm as iron. “You can take it.”
The certainty in his voice goes straight through you. Your body arches under him. The sensations pile too high, too fast, each circle of his fingers pushing you toward something that feels impossible, unbearable, then suddenly inevitable.
“Levi, I—”
“I know.” His mouth brushes yours. “Let it happen.”
It breaks over you all at once. Your body locks and then shakes as rapture crashes through you in bewildering waves. A broken cry leaves your mouth. Your thighs try to close, your spine arches off the mattress, and Levi is suddenly everywhere—his hand holding yours down, his mouth at your cheek and jaw and lips, his fingers still working you through the violence of your release.
He’d meant to guide you through it gently, meant to be patient all the way through the end and let the moment belong entirely to you. Instead, the tight way you pulse around his cock sends a jolt up his spine, and his hips rock before he can stop them. The movement is small, but your body answers. Levi hisses under his breath.
“You’re trying to kill me now,” he says.
You barely hear him. You’re floating, your limbs feeling loose and heavy, your skin sensitive, your chest still heaving as the aftershocks ripple through you. Levi eases his touch at your clit only when your whole body twitches from oversensitivity, and even then he doesn’t pull away completely. He strokes once, gentler now, until the pleasure fades.
Then he kisses you, trying to collect himself after watching you come apart underneath him. You taste your own breath on his tongue, still shaky. His hand leaves yours only to cradle the side of your face. When he lifts his head, all severity has left his features. He looks tired.
“Well,” he says, “that answered that.”
You blink up at him, dazed. “Answered what?”
“Whether you’d be satisfied.”
The memory of his earlier hesitation comes back through the haze. Of all the things you might have expected from Levi, concern that you would regret giving him your first time was not among them. But it was there. You’d seen it.
You lift a weak hand and touch his face. “You were worried.”
He looks as if he wants to deny, just off reflex. Then he looks down at you spread beneath him, flushed and thoroughly ruined in your bed, and he decides the effort is pointless. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he says, and pauses for a moment. “You matter.” Levi looks away as your throat goes tight, but when he looks back, his gaze drops to your mouth again. “And because I know exactly what I’m like.”
You almost laugh. “Terrible?”
“Difficult.”
“That too.”
The corner of his mouth moves. He leans down and presses his lips to yours once, then closes his eyes, as if the contact eases his mind. “I didn’t want this to be something you regretted later.”
You slide your hand behind his neck and hold him there. “I won’t.” His eyes search yours because some part of him still seems to need proof. You give it by lifting yourself enough to kiss him first, despite your exhaustion. “I won’t,” you repeat against his lips. “Not even a little.”
That, at least, seems to reach him. He relaxes his shoulders slightly and sighs through his nose, almost laughing at himself. “Good.”
Only then does he carefully pull out. The empty feeling after such intense fullness makes you wince. Levi sees you and mutters an expression of sympathy under his breath. He reaches for a folded cloth lying on your bedside table. You know it’s clean, at least. He parts your thighs with one hand and swipes the cloth between your legs. He then wipes himself and tosses the cloth into a basin.
Your limbs feel like they’re made of sand. You watch him through half-lowered eyelids as he straightens the blankets one-handed, then lifts them over both of you and lays beside you on the bed. He reaches for you and pulls you against his side. For a second, you’re too surprised to move.
“What?” he says.
You turn your face against his shoulder. “Nothing.” You smile faintly into his skin. “I just didn’t expect you to be the sort of man who cuddles.”
Levi makes a sound of profound displeasure at the word. “Don’t—don’t call it that.”
“What should I call it, then?”
He pulls you closer with an arm around your waist. Your thigh slides over his and your head rests against his chest. When your fingers drift over his sternum, you find a scar and trace it.
“Sleeping,” he says.
“In my bed.”
“Yes.”
“With me in your arms.”
His chin brushes the top of your head. “You’re pushing it.”
You laugh softly. A sleepy thought nudges at you, and you tilt your face up enough to look at him. “So you’re staying.”
Levi looks down, unable to believe you’d ask that after everything. But he doesn’t ridicule you, and instead slides his hand up your back and down again. “I told you I would.”
You hum, then after a few moments, speak again in a quieter voice. “That thing you said downstairs,” you murmur.
“You’ll have to be more specific, sweetheart.”
Your stomach flips at the name. “When you said you couldn’t walk away from me even if you wanted to.”
He’s silent. You can feel, more than see, the moment he realizes where this is going. He resents having to say any truth that leaves him feeling exposed. You flatten your hand over his chest. Beneath your palm, his heartbeat is slow.
“I heard what you meant,” you say.
Levi stares at the far wall for a few seconds. “Then I don’t need to say it badly.”
You lift yourself just enough to kiss his jaw. “You really are difficult.”
“I warned you.”
“And I still let you into my shop.”
“That was your first mistake.”
“My second was apparently letting you into my bed.”
His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers combing through your hair. “You don’t sound sorry.”
“I’m not.”
A faint huff leaves him. He tips your face up and kisses you properly, his lips tasting of the last remnants of intimacy. It eases you when he settles you back against him. For a while, neither of you says anything. You listen to his breathing and feel the rise and fall of his chest under your cheek. He’s spent so long appearing in your doorway with lists and lingering over tea before vanishing back into duty that being held by him feels stranger than being taken apart by him. It’s somehow more intimate.
Levi’s fingers continue to drift along your spine. You wonder if he’s even aware he’s doing it. It’s so unlike the precise man who inspects all of the supplies you give him and criticizes the way you lift things. But that fact only makes you feel more tender.
Sleep starts to tug at you. Then it hits you, and you mumble into his chest, “The tea downstairs.”
“The tea can wait.”
“No, the other tea.”
His hand pauses. “You’re thinking about the contraceptive tea now?”
“If I fall asleep without taking it—well, are you ready to be a dad right now?”
Levi closes his eyes. “Unbelievable.”
“You asked.”
“I asked where to finish, not whether you intended to become irritating immediately afterward.”
“You like me irritating.”
“Sometimes.”
“Most of the time.”
“Arrogant,” he mutters.
“You’re one to talk.”
For all his complaints, he shifts and eases out from under you. He reaches for his pants. The sight of him dressing just enough to go downstairs in the middle of the night, hair messy and expression blank despite the bite mark appearing on his throat, nearly makes you laugh. He catches your smile as he buttons his pants and narrows his eyes.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing, Captain.”
His gaze darkens. “Don’t even start.”
“Who’s starting? I’m exhausted.”
“You don’t sound exhausted.”
“Just… inspired.”
That earns you one of his annoyed looks, but it’s ineffective against you now that you’ve seen him when he orgasms. He disappears downstairs before you can tease him further. You hear him moving through the back room of the shop below. Another intimacy. Levi in your kitchen. Levi pouring hot water. Levi handling your cups with those same hands that held you through your first climax.
When he returns with the cup in hand, you push yourself upright. The blankets slide down your chest. Levi’s gaze flicks over you, taking in your skin and messy hair and the marks he left behind.
“Drink,” he says.
You accept the cup with both hands. “You didn’t poison it?”
“Wouldn’t waste the effort.”
You sip and gag immediately. “That’s foul.”
“It's medicine, not tea.”
You drink the rest anyway, then hand him the empty cup. He sets it aside before sliding back into bed with you, pulling the blankets up around you both. You settle into his shoulder this time, one leg slipping between his. He allows you to tangle with him without comment.
Sleep drifts closer. Through the drowsiness, you ask, “Were you ever going to tell me?”
Levi freezes. “Tell you what?”
“That you were in love with me.”
He makes an irritated sound. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
You lift your head enough to look at him. He looks almost younger in this soft glow of the lamplight. Less like the captain everyone in Trost recognizes at a glance, more like simply Levi—sharp-tongued, meticulous, and currently in your bed with no way out of the question except honesty or cowardice. He clearly dislikes both options.
“I started looking for the light,” he says.
“What, like you’re dying?” you joke.
He rolls his eyes. “No, you idiot. The one in your window.” His gaze shifts past you, fixed somewhere else in the room. “You always left the lamp on. Later than you needed to.”
It takes you a second to understand that this, from him, is a confession. He’s answering in the only way he can bear: by naming evidence, by admitting he saw your care and returned it, by refusing to wrap his emotions in pretty words.
You slide your arm across his middle and move closer. “Then I’ll keep leaving it on.”
A long silence follows. Then his mouth brushes your hair. “You’d better.”
The lamp eventually burns all the way through, throwing the room into shadow. The sheets have cooled where you’re not touching. Levi’s breathing evens out, though his arm never leaves your waist, even in the drift toward sleep. You lie awake a little longer, just enough to feel the occasional brush of his thumb against your side.
At some point, you murmur half into sleep, “You know everyone in Trost would lose their minds if they knew Captain Levi Ackerman was asleep in my bed.”
His chest shifts under your cheek with what might be a laugh, but it’s too small to be certain. “Then don’t tell them,” he says.
You smile, eyes closing fully at last. “How selfish of me.”
☆ Day 2 of Levi Month 26 | Breeding Kink | Event by @levievent
☆ Summary: There’s something Levi wants, something he’s thought about far too often and said nothing about for far too long—he wants to breed you.
☆ Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Female Reader
☆ Genre/Tags: Modern AU, Established Relationship, Smut
☆ Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, dirty talk, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie
☆ Word Count: 1.3k
☆ Check out the other days!
☆ AO3 Link
☆ a/n: damn header got the mature label slapped on this. have to repost, so sorry for the double ping for people on my taglist! anyway, thank you to my beta reader @slaytherinthoughts! pls don’t ask for a part two or I’ll write Levi calling sex “bumping uglies.” don't even ask for a part two jokingly, I will block you.
“You’ve been staring at me for ten minutes,” you say, sitting on the edge of the couch as you look to Levi, standing at the kitchen counter with a glass of water in his hand. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”
Levi’s mouth twitches, annoyed at being read so easily. “Tch. You make it sound so dramatic.”
“It is dramatic. You’re really bad at pretending to not stare at me.”
He sighs and looks down at his glass, then shifts his gaze to you. Levi Ackerman is not a man who embarrasses easily, so the faint color rising along the tops of his cheekbones catches your attention immediately.
“Come here,” he says.
You get up and stop in front of him. He sets the glass down, hand sliding around your waist. Up close, his expression is even more conflicted.
“What is it?” you ask.
For a second, he says nothing. Then, in a voice lower than usual, he admits, “There’s something I want that I haven’t told you.”
Your stomach flutters. “Okay.”
“It’s not because I didn’t trust you. I just wasn’t sure I should say it out loud.”
You rest your hand on his chest. “Tell me anyway.”
He looks at your mouth. “I think about breeding you.”
Levi watches your face, waiting for impact. Braced for rejection, maybe, for you to laugh. His face doesn’t give much away, but his thoughts are written clearly in the tension of his shoulders. Fuck. I said it. If she looks at me differently now, fuck it.
But you don’t laugh. You don’t reject him. You stroke your thumb once over his shirt. “You think about it,” you repeat.
“More than think,” he says. “I want it. The idea of filling you, seeing you take it…” He cuts himself off like he’s already said too much, then mutters, “Forget it.”
You stare at him for a second, then step closer until your bodies touch. “Levi. If I didn’t want to hear it, I’d tell you. And I asked because I want to know.”
There’s a new hunger to his eyes, unmistakable, but also caution. He always gives you that, even when he’s half out of his mind. It’s one of the things you love most about him. So you give him what he hasn’t dared ask for.
“Show me,” you say.
Something in Levi shifts. His eyes go black with want, and when he kisses you, it’s nothing like the restrained pecks you shared over coffee this morning. It’s deep in its intensity. His hand slides up into your hair, angling your head exactly where he wants it while his other palm presses into the small of your back, pulling you into him. You gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound with a low groan.
He kisses you harder once the realization that you said yes actually kicks in. His tongue sweeps against yours, starved for your taste. You clutch at his shoulders. By the time he pulls back, both of you are breathing hard.
“You’re sure,” he asks.
“Yes.”
His forehead presses briefly to yours before he takes your hand and leads you down the hall to the bedroom. He flicks on the lamp, then strips your shirt off first, then his own, then the rest of both of your clothes, leaving a trail of fabric across the floor. Right now, he doesn’t care about the messiness.
He lowers you onto the bed, then kneels between your thighs and kisses his way down your stomach. When he spreads your legs wider and moves between them, he flicks his eyes up to yours. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
You nod. His mouth on you is captivating. He takes his time at first, tongue dragging slowly along your wetness until your hands fist in the sheets. He listens to every little sound you make and adjusts, mouth and fingers working in tandem.
“Levi—”
“I know,” he says against you. He knows. He always knows. He keeps you on the edge until you’re squirming, then eases two fingers inside you, groaning at how wet you are. “So fucking ready. You have any idea what that does to me?”
You inhale shakily. “Probably the same thing your mouth is doing to me.”
That earns a rare, wicked half-smile from him before he bends back down and sends you over the edge. The orgasm hits hard enough to make you bow off the mattress. Levi holds you through it, one arm across your hips while his mouth and fingers work you until your thighs tremble around him.
He climbs over you, his eyes blown wide and his composure shredded. You reach between you and wrap your hand around his cock. Levi’s head drops with a broken sound. He lines himself up and pushes in slowly, both of you groaning at the same time. The stretch is delicious after the way he opened you up. He grips the headboard with one hand, fighting himself not to slam forward.
You look up at him. “Levi.”
“Don’t,” he says hoarsely, eyes shutting for a second. “If you say my name like that right now, I’m done.”
That makes you laugh softly, though it turns into a gasp when he finally sinks in all the way. He presses his forehead to yours again, every muscle tense. He starts to move. Even when he’s rough, he’s careful, keeping a brutal consistency that pulls pleasure out of you until you can’t think. Tonight there’s an extra layer to it, every thrust charged with the confession from the kitchen. You see the strain in his face, hear it in the way his breathing shifts when your legs wrap around his waist.
“Tell me,” you whisper.
His eyes snap to yours. “What?”
“What you’re thinking.”
He gives one sharp thrusts that makes your nails bite into his back. “You know what I’m thinking.”
“I wanna hear it.”
The last of his restraint burns away. “I’m thinking about filling you,” he says, low and shaking. “About fucking my cum so deep into you that you have to take every drop. Thinking about it leaking into your womb.” He watches your face as he says it all. “Thinking about you swollen with me, knowing I did that to you.”
“God,” you breathe.
Levi’s mouth crashes to yours. His pace turns harder, bed creaking under the force of it, and the room fills with the slick sound of him driving into you, your gasps, his rough little grunts that he usually keeps buried. Not tonight. Tonight he’s too far gone, and every sound he makes feels like a reward. You feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix, and you squirm in repsonse.
“Is this what you wanted?” you ask against his mouth.
“Yes,” he says, the single word wrecked. “Yes, fuck. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to tell you.”
“Then don’t hold back.”
He laughs once and hooks your leg higher over his arm. The angle has you crying out, cunt clenching hard around him. Levi nearly loses it right there. He reaches between your bodies and rubs your clit in quick, ruthless circles. The combination of that and the relentless drive of his hips tears your second orgasm out of you fast. Your whole body locks up around him.
Levi curses your name and thrusts deep, holding himself there as he comes with a low, wrecked groan. You feel the heat of his release. His body shudders with each pulse. His expression is almost enough to send you under again: stunned pleasure, relief, helpless devotion.
For a long moment, you both stay still. Then Levi kisses your damp temple and stays buried inside you, one hand sliding down to your stomach absentmindedly. His breathing gradually steadies. “You alright?”
You smile lazily and brush his sweat-damp hair back from his forehead. “More than alright.”
He looks at you, a new raw vulnerability to his eyes. One you rarely ever see. “I mean it. If that was too much—”
“It wasn’t.” You touch his cheek. “I liked hearing it.”
Levi’s eyes soften, though his hand remains spread possessively over your belly. “Dangerous thing to tell me.”
summary: the night before fall semester, you meet an attractive older stranger at a bar. after too many drinks, you go home with him. the next morning, still hooked on the memories of last night, you walk into your graduate cognitive psychology seminar to discover that the stranger you met is your teacher — professor levi ackerman.
words: 2.6k
part: 2/? (pt 1)
content warning(s): modern levi ackerman x fem! reader, college au, professor/student relationship, power imbalance, porn with plot, dubious consent, dubious morality, eventual explicit sexual content, angst.
chapter specific warning(s): nothing really
author's note: more of a worldbuilding chapter than anything. . . sorry this chapter took SO long to post. i have no excuse other than i suck and im lazy.
You’d spent the last forty-eight hours trying to find a way to change your schedule.
You went to the scheduling department for the School of Psychology and asked almost every single worker if there was any loophole that would make it so you didn’t have to take Professor Ackerman’s class. All of them said the same thing — No. There was absolutely no way that you would be able to get out of this, not unless you were willing to extend your studying by another semester.
The class was a required seminar for your concentration, and Professor Ackerman was the only faculty member teaching it this semester. Professor Davis had to step down unexpectedly only two weeks ago like Levi said. There was no other section.
You were stuck.
Which was how, on Thursday, you found yourself climbing the stone steps that led towards the psychology building. The cooling temperature of early September had replaced the scalding heat of August, the excitement of a new school year was beginning to wear off, leaving students rushing in between buildings with coffee cups in their hands and tired looks in their gaze. Everyone was settling into their own routine and you were too, normally though, you loved this time of year. It was a fresh start, a new year, new you.
You adjusted the strap of your tote bag hanging on your shoulder, pushing open the door and making your slow march to Room 314, his lecture hall. The same girl who you saw speaking to Professor Ackerman on Tuesday was leaning against one of the wooden pillars talking to another girl you recognized from one of your classes last spring.
“I’m telling you, he’s brutal,” she said, fingers typing on her phone, barely looking up. “I asked him if I could be his TA so I could get a resume boost and he shot me down, barely even looked at me!”
Her friend shrugged. “He probably already has one.”
“No, he said he didn’t want one,” the blonde stated. “It’s so annoying.”
“Do you think he’s married?”
You nearly tripped over your own footsteps when it caught against the edge of a floor tile, casting your gaze down to the floor that suddenly became very interesting instead of the conversation you were overhearing. Because you knew that Professor Ackerman wasn’t married, you knew this very well. There hadn’t been another toothbrush sitting beside the sink or another pair of shoes in the front door, and there was no way he would’ve slept with you if he had a wife — or at least you hoped.
The realization settled somewhere inside you that you knew things about Professor Ackerman that no normal student should know, small and harmless at first and then something deeply intimate. You knew which side of the bed he slept on, how he alphabetized his books, and he preferred warm lighting over white. On the other hand, you knew exactly the type of noises he made when your lips wrapped around his dick for the first time, or the way his hands gripped your thighs open while he licked a thick stripe from the entrance of your cunt to your clit.
It was better to just push the door open to the lecture hall before you could hear the rest of the conversation, your footsteps echoing in the partially empty lecture hall as you made your way towards the seat you had been in before. Levi was already standing at the front, one hand bracing against the edge of the lectern while the other was fidgeting with the lighting of the projector casted in the front of the room.
He was dressed similar to how he was on Tuesday, donning a charcoal colored sweater with dark slacks pressed without a wrinkle. His sleeves were rolled nearly to his forearms, showing a silver colored watch that matched the thin-framed glasses on the bridge of his nose.
You grabbed your notebook and pen from your bag and set it down on the desk in front of you.
Levi looked up and for the shortest moment imaginable, his eyes met yours without hesitation. Afterwards he simply looked away again, organizing the notes on his desk until they were perfectly straightened at the edges, using the same detached professionalism he had promised you on Monday.
Students filed in and settled down, the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor and conversations that you couldn’t quite make out filled the space.
At exactly nine o’clock, Professor Ackerman cleared his throat.
“Okay, good morning. Today we’re going to discuss what I lectured about Monday: attention and executive function. You’ll all be expected to participate in this discussion for the established seminar portion of your grade,” he announced, clicking a button to show the beginning slide of his presentation. “Before we begin, I have a departmental announcement.”
A few students sat up a bit straighter.
“Tomorrow evening at seven, the Department of Psychology is hosting its annual graduate welcome mixer. Faculty members, graduate students, and research coordinators will be in attendance. If you are planning on conducting research or being a part of a research group, I suggest you come to meet faculty outside the classroom and foster potential research interests.”
A student raised his hand near the front of the hall. “Is it mandatory?”
Professor Ackerman sighed, pressing the button to the next slide that showed the event flyer with the location and time. “Do you want to get a job after school?”
“I mean . . . yeah.”
“Then you can probably answer your question yourself. You’re all adults, if you’d like to make your lives more difficult, don’t come to network. It doesn’t affect me at all.”
You heard a few laughs behind you and for a brief moment you saw the corner of Levi’s mouth twitch up in an almost smile.
“There will be food, if that sways your choice more than potential research opportunities.”
“I’ll go,” the student said a little bit too quickly after Professor Ackerman's comment.
Levi rolled his eyes, clicking the presentation forward to the beginning slides of lecture content. “Great to know where your priorities lie. Now, can we get started?”
Clusters of faculty members and other graduate students stood scattered throughout the big event space, warm light spilling from the lights above. Glasses of wine and plates of hors d’oeuvres sat neatly on long tables. You could hear drifting conversations of research funding, dissertations, and conferences between people dressed in business casual. Thankfully, the cream colored blouse and black trousers you chose an hour earlier matched some of the others’ outfits with ease.
To your right was Armin Arlert, your friend who you had survived two years of graduate school with. He was studying the room with the same hesitation and curiosity that you were, blue eyes looking between professors to mentally map where people were to talk to later.
“You know you won’t be able to talk to everyone,” you said to him, nudging your shoulder against his own.
Armin glanced to his side. “Yeah, maybe, but I can try.”
“Hm,” you conceded. “Enlighten me, where are we going first?”
Armin gestured his cup toward the side of a particular group, a tall blonde man stood relaxed but commanding the conversation he was having without needing to try. Every few seconds someone else would wander over to greet him, shaking his hand of calm authority. “Professor Smith, he’s my faculty sponsor,” he said. “We’re going there first.”
“Armin—”
Before you had any time to protest, Armin already started to weave through the crowd. You followed, staying close to him so you didn’t get swept up into a random conversation with a stranger.
More pieces of Professor Smith’s conversation began to drift into earshot as you continued closer with Armin.
“ . . . we finally got the research grant from the government.”
Professor Smith’s eyes widened. “Congratulations, does that mean that you start soon?”
“Hopefully September.”
He nodded, gaze lifting when Armin approached, a smile beginning to grow on his face. “Armin,” he said. “I was wondering when you were going to join us.” He reached out to give Armin’s shoulder a light squeeze. “And you brought company.”
You walked to stand at Armin’s side.
“We started graduate school together,” he said, motioning to you.
Professor Smith extended his hand gracefully. “Erwin Smith, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You too, Professor,” you replied.
“Please, outside of the classroom it’s Erwin,” he replied, turning his attention back to Armin. “Did you start the proposal for our study? I want the variables determined by the end of next week.”
Armin gave him a nod. “Yes sir, I’m about halfway finished.”
There was a quiet pride in Erwin’s voice that reminded you less of a professor and more of a mentor watching his mentee grow into their own. You were proud of Armin for doing so well, though, it probably helped that he didn’t sleep with his professor for the class that he needed in order to graduate.
Erwin turned back to you. “And how are you finding your first week?”
“I survived it,” you said with a laugh.
“A noble aspiration,” Erwin commented. “Which seminars are you taking this semester?”
You listed them off one by one, watching him nod in recognition and when you got to your Cognitive Psychology course, his expression brightened a touch more than with the others.
“With Levi?” He asked.
Your shoulders stiffened imperceptively. “Yes.”
“We worked at Trost University together a few years ago,” Erwin said. “And he’s also one of my oldest friends.”
Great.
Just great.
“Does he seem like he’s settling in?” He asked.
“He seems . . . fine,” you managed.
A quiet laugh left him. “I’ve known Levi for a long time, he always seems like he’s doing fine. He’s an excellent researcher but teaching has always mattered to him just as much. I don’t think he’d ever admit it aloud, of course.”
You blinked. Levi liked teaching? It seemed in his lectures that he merely tolerated it, especially with his no nonsense attitude with how he ran his class. You’d assumed he was only teaching because the department demanded it in order to run his research projects. “He likes teaching?” You asked, trying not to sound so shocked.
Erwin sensed your surprise and chuckled. “He has a unique way of showing it.”
Before you could prod him for more information, another voice cut into the conversation.
“Erwin.”
The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you turned to watch Levi walk towards the group. He approached with a glass of red wine in one hand, dressed in a charcoal colored blazer over a black button down. He looked less like Professor Ackerman and more like the man you’d met at the bar nearly a week ago. Only now, there wasn’t a smile waiting for you or the blatant flirting and eye fucking he’d given you that was able to charm you enough to go home with him.
Levi’s gaze landed on Erwin first, then to Armin, and lastly to you, which he spent less than a second looking at. If someone had walked by, they would assume that this was the first time you had ever talked to Levi outside of the classroom and from the looks of it, that was exactly what Armin and Erwin believed
There wasn’t the slightest bit of recognition or hesitation or anything that suggested anything beyond professor and student happened between the two of you. Whatever had existed between the two of you, in Levi’s mind, had been locked away behind that same face that stood at the front of a nearly packed lecture hall.
Erwin glanced between the two of you, blissfully unaware. “I was just asking her how your seminar’s been going. You’re not being too hard on the students the first week, right?” A knowing smile tugged at Erwin’s features, a harmless tease towards his more stoic friend.
Levi’s expression didn’t change, turning his face fully towards Erwin as though the look of your face was irrelevant to him. “It’s graduate school,” Levi spoke simply, a matter of fact tone like it was the most obvious question he’d been asked. “They’re adults.”
Erwin laughed, his hand slapping softly on Levi’s shoulder. It seemed like this wasn’t out of the ordinary for Levi to act this way. It made you wonder why he’d shown such a different side of himself with you that night, or perhaps that was a performance as well. Here, he fit with the professor persona who organized every thought before speaking it aloud and carried himself with quiet confidence.
That night, he’d leaned against the bar with his sleeves rolled up his forearms, nursing a drink and laughed under his breath when you commented on how he alphabetized his textbooks with meticulous precision.
“Did you go here for your undergraduate degree?” Erwin asked you, taking a sip from his glass. “Since Armin did, I assume you did as well.”
You nodded. “Yeah, I did. I wanted to stay here when I learned how good the graduate department is here.”
“Smart girl, very wise decision” Erwin praised. “Well since you’re so familiar with campus, you should join Levi’s research group so you can show him all the good places. He’s trying to find the place that serves the best tea.”
Your smile froze and you could see Levi unblinking from your peripheral view. His expression remained composed, but you could see the way that his fingertips whitened as he clutched his glass, grey eyes trying so hard not to squint in scrutiny towards the friend who was trying to help him in all the unspoken wrong ways.
You opened your mouth and realized you didn’t know what to say, you wanted to get out of this conversation as soon as possible so you didn’t have to feel as though a spotlight had been lit right on top of you. Join his research group? Spend hours together multiple days a week? Meetings, data, conferences, office hours . . . you had barely survived sitting through two of his lectures so far pretending that you hadn’t woken up in his apartment less than a week ago.
Armin, blissfully unaware, sweetly nudged your shoulder and smiled. “That would be a good fit, wouldn’t it? Your research interests do line up pretty well with Professor Ackermans.”
Levi’s eyes settled on you for the first time since joining the conversation, nothing intimate behind his gaze nor soft. It was measured, as though he was taking the consideration seriously. “I’m not sure I’m looking for anyone else right now for the research,” he said plainly. “The project’s already well underway.”
“Levi, you were talking about needing someone else to sift through all the data just a few days ago,” Erwin said. “You should just give her a chance. Armin has been wonderful on my team, and I’m sure he vouches for her.”
“I do,” Armin spoke, nudging you again. “She’s a really good student.”
Normally, you would accept the praise with open hands. Armin had seen you at your best and was one of the best students in your cohort, praise from him meant something. But now you wanted nothing more than to yell that you were actually the worst student in the world and would actually be horrible on Levi’s team.
I’m actually terrible. My statistical analysis is fraudulent and I can’t code and I can’t even read English!
The worst part was that Armin did really believe every word that he was saying, he had no idea how much you were drowning in this conversation. If the earth opened beneath your feet you would happily climb into it and never come out.
“It’s settled then,” Erwin said. “You’ll think about it?”
A quiet beat passed and Levi didn’t answer immediately, instead tracing his thumb along the stem of his wine glass. “I’ll consider it.”
“Good, Levi. You might be surprised how much work you can get done with some help.”
You took a very long and thorough sip of your glass, the burning of alcohol down your throat a temporary reprieve from the pit in your stomach.
You go through the tunnels to learn more about the killer, only for Levi to have an encounter with him. You and Levi finally cross that line and have a night of passion.
Part 4 and Part 6
Ao3 - please visit here too <3
Captain Henderson sighed deeply, rubbing his temples as you and Ray finished checking your tactical gear. He adjusted his glasses, his gaze shifting past your shoulder to where three tall, imposing figures stood: Erwin, Mike, and Levi, all dressed in dark, durable gear built for urban combat.
"Are these three really necessary, Ray?" Captain Henderson asked quietly, eyeing the city's most infamous syndicate men standing inside a precinct armoury.
Ray chuckled, buckling his heavy utility belt into place. "They helped us with the 1890s blueprint maps, Captain. Besides, keeping these three busy down in the dark stops 'em from committing crimes up on the streets." His tone softened, his expression turning fatherly as his eyes flicked toward you. "Plus... she needs him here. Ever since Julian was attacked last week, she’s needed Levi nearby. He keeps her grounded."
Captain Henderson looked over at you. Levi was standing right in front of you, his hands meticulously adjusting the straps on your bulletproof vest, making sure every strap was pulled tight, checking every seam to ensure you’d be safe in the underground tunnels.
"Are they a couple yet?" the Captain asked, a knowing tilt to his brow.
"Nope," Ray replied plainly.
"But they're clearly—"
"Yep," Ray laughed softly, shaking his head with a fond grin. "She's holding back, taking it step by step. But Levi? He's being remarkably patient. Because to him, she's worth every second of the wait."
Captain Henderson smiled, a rare moment of warm affection softening his stern face. "I look forward to their wedding... and the kids they'll eventually have. You know those kids are going to put her first. Between Levi and a house full of little ones, she's going to be spoiled and loved so damn much."
"I look forward to it too, Cap," Ray agreed, before clearing his throat and raising his voice. "You ready, kid?"
You stepped back from Levi’s fussy hands, giving his fingers a quick, reassuring squeeze before walking over to Ray. "Yeah, let's go have a look at these old tunnels." You pulled up the blueprint map on your tablet, pointing out the faded red lines beneath the precinct. "Erwin and Mike said most of the lower passages collapsed back in the nineties, but there are a few key access tunnels still open. They lead straight under the old theatre. I just hope we find concrete evidence of someone actually using them... otherwise we're trekking through centuries of mud for nothing."
"Sometimes leads end up being a dead end, kid, and that's okay," Ray offered with a warm, encouraging smile, clapping a hand on your shoulder. "That's just part of the job. We've got this."
You let out a long, heavy breath, feeling the nervous tension in your shoulders finally melt away. You looked back at Levi, who gave you a single, firm nod of quiet devotion.
You nodded back to Ray, a confident spark returning to your eyes. "You're right. We've got this."
The heavy iron doors of the city's abandoned Victorian greenhouse loomed before you, wrapped in rusted chains and stamped with an old, faded condemnation notice from the city council. Decades ago, this place had been the crown jewel of the district, a sprawling glass palace filled with exotic plants, wild flora, chirping birds, and a magnificent central fountain. Now, it stood forgotten, swallowed by ice and time.
Ray hauled on the cut chains, pulling them free with a heavy metallic clatter, and pushed the creaking iron doors open.
"Erwin, Cap," Ray nodded to the two men behind you. "Keep a perimeter out here. If anyone comes near these grounds, let us know."
"Understood," Erwin replied, his tall frame taking up position near the entrance alongside Captain Henderson. "Be careful down there."
You stepped inside, your tactical boots crunching over shattered glass and dry soil, with Ray, Mike, and Levi following closely behind.
As you pushed past towering, overgrown ferns and the tangled skeletons of dead tropical trees, the claustrophobic greenery suddenly gave way to a central clearing. You paused, your breath catching in your throat. Moonlight filtered through the dusty glass ceiling, illuminating a patch of land that looked as though someone had been tending to it with meticulous, loving care. Fresh soil had been laid, blooming night-shade flowers lined the stone paths, and the grand marble water fountain in the centre was cleared of moss, its clear pool reflecting the moonlight overhead.
Your flashlight beam swept across the clearing, your heart strangely touched by this isolated, hidden pocket of grace amidst the decay.
Levi stepped up right behind you, his eyes scanning the damp environment with a subtle, characteristic scowl. "It's filthy," he muttered low, brushing a stray cobweb off your jacket shoulder. "Dust and mould everywhere."
"It is," you agreed softly, looking up at the majestic glass domes above. "But... it's such a shame it was left like this. It must have been completely magical back in its golden age. Somewhere you could come to just escape, read a book, and explore for hours."
Levi went quiet. He looked away from the overgrown paths and stared down at your face, taking in the soft, awed spark in your eyes. Without a word, he made a quiet, firm mental note: Buy the deed to the greenhouse. Hire a crew. Restore it completely for her.
"Over here, kid," Ray called out softly from the far side of the clearing.
You and Levi walked toward the massive arched entrance leading down into the underground maintenance tunnels. But as your flashlight beam hit the surrounding stone walls, the true nature of the space revealed itself.
The killer had made this place his home.
Ornate velvet tapestries from the late 1800s were pinned against the brick walls. Stacks of antique theatre playbills, stolen oil paintings, framed Victorian sketches, and vintage opera masks were arranged like an art gallery in the dark. The killer had left his unmistakable mark here, a grotesque, obsession-driven shrine to the golden age of the theatre.
"The blueprints were right," you whispered, the warmth leaving your voice as detective instincts took over. "He's been using the greenhouse as a staging ground. The tunnels are definitely the right path."
You moved toward the heavy cellar door at the base of the wall. Ray reached out with a gloved hand, expecting a locked latch, but the heavy door swung open with a slow, ominous groan.
It was unlocked.
"Stay sharp," Ray warned, drawing his sidearm and clicking on his tactical light. "I'll take point. Mike, cover my six. Kid, you and Levi bring up the rear."
Ray stepped down into the pitch-black stone stairwell, his boots disappearing into the shadows, with Mike following right behind him.
The damp, freezing draft rising from the depths sent a sudden, cold shudder down your spine. A knot of anxiety tightened in your chest as you stared into the black abyss of the centuries-old tunnels.
Before taking your first step down into the dark, you reached back behind you.
Levi felt your fingers reach for his, and he instantly closed his hand over yours, intertwining his fingers with yours in a tight, unshakeable grip. He stepped close to your side, his thumb rubbing comforting circles against the back of your hand.
"I've got you," Levi murmured into the shadows, his eyes sharp and deadly as he walked down into the dark right beside you.
The beam of your flashlight cut through the thick, damp air of the underground passage. As you moved as a group, you quickly realised this wasn't just an abandoned maintenance crawlspace. Old iron lanterns were mounted along the brick walls, their glass polished clean, filled with fresh oil. The wet stone underfoot had been cleared of rubble and mud.
"Someone's been maintaining these tracks," Ray noted quietly, running a gloved finger along a clean brass lantern fixture. "And not just recently. Looking at the fresh mortar on these brick repairs, I'd say he started working down here over a year ago."
A chill ran down your spine. The killer had laid the foundation for his grand 'opera' long before you had even stepped foot into the city or joined the NMPD. Coming to this city and bringing change hadn't started his delusion; it had simply given him his leading lady, accelerating his twisted plot.
Ray paused under a dripping archway, unrolling the modified blueprint map Erwin had drawn for you. "According to Erwin's layout, this main artery branches off to four key locations: the historical museum, a junction right beneath the main corporate district, the old theatre, and the greenhouse we just left. Every other side tunnel is completely caved in."
"So he can move anywhere in the heart of the city entirely unseen," you murmured, your voice echoing off the stone.
As you rounded a long curve, a brand-new, polished oak door appeared in the damp brick wall. It was completely absent from the official city blueprints, looking disturbingly out of place in the centuries-old tunnel.
Mike stepped forward, his head tilting as he took a deep, deliberate breath through his nose. His sharp senses scanned the cool air. "No scent of blood. No one's breathing behind that wood. It's empty."
Ray pulled a small kit of tension wrenches from his tactical vest. "Hold up. Let me clear it." Within seconds, the fresh brass lock yielded with a soft click. Ray slowly nudged the heavy oak door open with his boot, raising his service weapon as he and Mike slipped inside first.
A moment of heavy silence passed before Ray and Mike stepped back out into the tunnel. Both of them looked grim, their jaws set tight with a mixture of disgust and concern.
"What is it?" you asked, taking a step toward them. "What's in there?"
Ray let out a low, heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Kid... It's a room dedicated to you."
"I want to see," you said immediately.
"It's really not a good idea," Mike warned softly, his brow furrowed as he tried to block the doorway. "You don't need to look at this."
"I need to see it, Mike," you insisted firmly, stepping past him. "I need to understand just how far this man's obsession goes if we're going to stop him."
You stepped over the threshold, flashlight lowered as the soft glow of pre-lit battery candles illuminated the room.
It was laid out like a lavish, romantic sanctuary. Heavy burgundy drapes covered the cold stone walls, framing dozens of ornate gold frames. Inside them were gorgeous oil paintings, delicate charcoal sketches, and candid photographs, all of you. You at the precinct, you walking through the snowy park, you sitting at a cafe... but as you stepped closer, your breath hitched.
Levi slipped into the room right beside you, his broad shoulder brushing against yours. His eyes were dark, a lethal rage simmering just beneath the surface as he looked at the stalker's shrine. He reached out, his long fingers wrapping tightly around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side.
"It's okay, sweetheart," Levi growled softly, his voice a low promise of protection. "I'm right here."
You looked up at him, shaking your head gently. "It doesn't scare me, Levi... I just... I worry about you."
Levi paused, looking down at you, his sharp brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"
Instead of answering right away, you gently slipped out of his hold and walked past him toward the far wall, pointing your flashlight at a large, beautifully framed photograph.
"Look," you said softly.
Levi stepped up beside you, his eyes fixing on the image. It was a clear, high-resolution shot taken from across a crowded street weeks ago. Levi was looking straight ahead, his face set in his usual stern profile as he walked. But the photo caught you in full view, your head turned slightly toward him, your eyes soft, brimming with an undisguised, tender warmth as you looked up at him when you thought he wasn't paying attention.
"See?" you murmured, looking up at Levi. "The killer knows I have feelings for you. He saw how I look at you when you're not looking. That's why he targeted you at the gala... that's why you're in danger."
Levi stared at the photo for a long, silent moment. The cold rage in his face melted, replaced by a quiet, profound awe as he saw the affection captured in your expression.
He didn't say a word. He simply reached out, taking your hand in his, his fingers locking tightly with yours as if silently telling you that no threat in the world could ever make him walk away.
"Let's go," you whispered, turning your back on the room. "We have an opera to crash."
Leaving the twisted gallery behind, the four of you pushed further down the main tunnel. The damp stone gradually gave way to aged wood floorboards and iron support beams. Above you, the faint, muffled reverberations of heavy floorboards echoed through the ceiling.
You had reached the underbelly of the Grand Vesper Theatre.
At the end of the long subterranean passage stood a set of towering, double-arched mahogany doors, carved with intricate, haunting sculptures of tragic theatre masks.
Ray nodded to you, and together, you both pushed the heavy doors open.
Your flashlight beams swept into the space, and a breath caught in your throat. It was breathtaking, grand, beautiful, and dripping with an oppressive, dark splendour. Built directly beneath the public Grand Vesper Theatre was a second, hidden underground theatre. Velvet-draped private boxes lined the stone walls, overlooking a circular stage framed by decaying gold leaf and sweeping opera balconies.
"Unbelievable," Ray whispered, shining his light up at the vaulted ceiling. "A secret theatre underneath the main house..."
"Let's split up and search the perimeter," you suggested, checking your sidearm. "Ray, take the upper boxes. Mike, check the main floor. Levi and I will check the backstage dressing rooms."
As you swept through the lower archives, your flashlight illuminated stacks of dusty ledgers, antique newspaper clippings, and secret account books. Reading through them, the dark history of the space unfurled before your eyes. This wasn't just a hidden stage; it was an underground haven for the city's corrupt elite in the late 1800s. Banned, scandalous performances were held here behind closed doors, along with secret auctions and illicit shows that challenged authority and indulged the dark vices of the powerful.
While you were piecing together the past, Levi navigated the dimly lit labyrinth of the actor's wing.
He pushed open a grand door at the end of the hall, stepping into a spacious, immaculate dressing room. Unlike the rest of the decaying theatre, this room was pristine, laid out specifically for you, as if you were a beloved star performing to sold-out crowds every night. Vases of fresh, fragrant red roses lined the counters, surrounded by stacks of wrapped gifts, love letters, and dried bouquets, mimicking the adoring tributes sent to a prima donna after a grand show.
Levi’s jaw tightened, his eyes cold as he approached the centre vanity table. Resting beside a silver hand mirror was a single handwritten card.
Before he could reach for it, a sudden, deafening BANG echoed through the room.
Levi spun around in a heartbeat, his hand flashing to his sidearm, but thick, heavy panes of reinforced, industrial glass slammed down from the ceiling tracks with a metallic thunder, sealing him inside a completely transparent, impenetrable cage.
"Tch," Levi snarled, slamming his shoulder against the glass, but it didn't budge an inch.
Footsteps echoed softly against the stone outside. Out of the shadows walked a man wearing a Victorian suit and the porcelain rabbit mask, humming a low, crackling waltz to himself.
The figure stepped up to the glass enclosure. Without a word, he raised a hand and violently slammed a photograph against the glass right in front of Levi’s face. It was a picture of Levi.
"I know what you are... Levi Ackerman," the killer purred through his voice modulator.
"Everyone in this damn city knows who I am, freak," Levi spat back, his silver eyes flashing with lethal promise.
The killer tutted softly, shaking his head. He raised a gleaming dagger, wiggling the sharp tip side to side as if wagging a scolding finger at Levi.
"No, no, no... that's far too simple," the voice crackled playfully. "I know the real you. You are just like me, Ackerman. A man utterly obsessed with our leading lady."
Levi stepped right up to the glass, towering over the masked man despite the barrier, his tone dropping into a terrifyingly low growl. "I am nothing like you. I love her. I respect her. I would never force her into your sick, twisted fantasy."
"Never?" the killer tilted his head, letting out a soft, mocking laugh. "Never kill for her? But you already have, haven't you? A whole drug gang, slaughtered in cold blood... all because they dared to put a hand on her."
Levi went still, his jaw setting hard.
The killer took a slow step backwards into the shadows, his gloved hands spreading wide in dramatic theatrical flare. "I offer her true romance. Art, devotion, an eternity under the spotlight. What have you ever given her, Ackerman... except the blood of a brute?"
The killer let out a dark, reverberating laugh as the darkness swallowed him whole. His haunting waltz echoed through the stone halls, fading away into the chilling silence of the underground theatre, leaving Levi trapped inside the glass cage.
Inside the heavy glass enclosure, Levi paced back and forth like a caged predator. His jaw was set tight, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned stark white. The killer’s words echoed relentlessly in the quiet room, sinking their claws into him.
What have you ever given her... except the blood of a brute?
He hated how much the phrase bit into his chest. He was a man of violence, raised in the mud and blood of the city’s underbelly. He protected you the only way he knew how, with absolute, lethal force. But was that all he was capable of bringing into your life? Was he just dragging you down into his dark world?
"Levi?!"
Your voice cut through the heavy silence of the dressing room. Levi’s head snapped up just as you hurried through the door, your flashlight beam dancing wildly across the walls.
"Levi! God, you're okay!" You rushed over to the glass wall, your hands pressing flat against the reinforced barrier as you scanned the tracks above. Spotting a brass lever concealed near the vanity frame, you slammed your hand down on it.
With a loud pneumatic hiss and a heavy mechanical groan, the glass cage retracted back into the ceiling.
The moment the barrier lifted, you darted forward, your hands immediately hovering over his arms, chest, and shoulders. "Are you hurt? Did he do anything to you? I heard a loud noise from down the hall, and I got so worried—"
Levi said your name, interrupting you softly. He reached out, his long fingers wrapping around your wrists, gently halting your frantic hands and bringing them down between you. "Stop. I'm fine."
"Then what is it?" you asked, searching his eyes, catching the unusual, troubled shadow lurking in them. "What happened?"
Levi stared down at your hands in his, his voice dropping into a rough, hesitant rasp. "I'm sorry."
You blinked, taken aback. "Sorry? Levi, what for?"
"He was here," Levi murmured, his jaw tight. "The bastard said... he said I'm no different than him. That I'm just an obsessed brute using violence to keep you, that I have nothing romantic or good to offer you. And... he's right, isn't he? All I know how to do is destroy things for you."
"Hey," you said firmly. Before he could spiral further, you raised your hand and gently covered his mouth with your palm, stopping the words right in his throat. "Don't you dare let that sick freak get inside your head."
Levi went still, his eyes locking onto yours over your hand.
"You are nothing like him, Levi," you whispered. "He is a delusional monster who sees me as a prize to possess. You... you actually care about what I think and what I feel. You respect me. You listen to me. You know me better than anyone in this entire city, and you sure as hell know me better than him."
Slowly, you lowered your hand from his lips, letting your palm slide tenderly up to caress the sharp angle of his cheekbone. You stepped a fraction closer, leaning up toward him. Your eyes flicked down to his lips, a clear, unspoken invite hanging in the quiet air between you.
Levi’s breath hitched. You saw his throat work as he swallowed hard, a sudden wave of intense internal conflict flashing across his face.
Before your lips could touch, Levi abruptly turned his head away, breaking the contact of your hand.
"We... we should get going," Levi muttered, his voice cold as he stepped back, completely avoiding your eyes. "Ray and Mike are waiting."
He turned on his heel and walked straight out of the dressing room, leaving you standing alone in the centre of the shrine.
A sharp, painful sting bloomed in your chest, cold and bitter. You stood there for a long second, staring at the empty doorway where he had just been standing. Your eyes swept over the room one last time, the fresh roses, the wrapped gifts, the twisted romantic fantasy the killer had set up, feeling a heavy weight settle in your stomach.
Silently, you walked out of the room, heading back to the main stage to rejoin the others.
Together, the group made their way up the crumbling service stairs, finally pushing open the heavy emergency exit doors of the Grand Vesper Theatre and stepping out into the freezing night air.
A steady, heavy rain had begun to fall, washing over the dark city streets. Down the block, blue and red police lights cut through the downpour as dozens of NMPD cruisers pulled up, sirens wailing into the night.
Levi stood near the edge of the alley, staring blankly into the rain, completely lost in his own head.
You walked over to the lead tactical officer, giving them swift, concise instructions. "The underground network connects through four primary junctions: the greenhouse, the museum, the corporate district, and the lower theatre archives. Secure every exit, tag all the artwork in the dressing rooms, and sweep for hidden explosives or secondary locks."
When you turned back around to check on Levi, the alleyway was empty. Levi and Mike had vanished into the rainy shadows without a word, leaving you standing alone with Ray and the uniformed cops.
Ray stepped up beside you, wiping the rain from his forehead as he watched the empty street where Levi’s car had been parked.
"You okay, kid?" Ray asked gently, his fatherly concern sharp.
"I don't know, Ray," you murmured, pulling your coat tighter around yourself as the rain soaked your hair. "Levi just... left. He didn't even say goodbye."
Ray frowned, looking around the bustled crime scene before turning back to you. "What happened down there in the dressing rooms?"
You let out a shaky breath, telling him about the glass cage, the killer's taunts, and how deeply those words had shaken Levi's confidence. "I tried to tell him that the killer was just trying to mess with him, but... I think it really got into his head. He thinks he's bad for me."
Ray sighed deeply, placing a heavy, reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Levi's spent his whole life being the scariest guy in the room. Hearing someone spin his feelings for you into something ugly... it hit a nerve. Give him a little time to clear his head. But if he keeps backing away and building those walls back up?" Ray offered a small, fond smirk. "You make him stand still and listen to you."
You nodded slowly, looking out into the rain-slicked street. "I hope it doesn't come to that."
Three days passed. Three insufferable, agonising days of dead silence from Levi Ackerman.
No texts. No phone calls. No surprise appearances at the precinct. He had completely shut you out, locking himself away in his syndicate fortress and leaving you in the dark. The frustration inside you had been simmering for seventy-two hours, slowly building into a roaring fire.
You sat on your living room sofa, staring down at the brass key resting in your palm. Your heart hammered against your ribs as anger, hurt, and desperation swirled together into a single, overwhelming impulse.
Enough.
You jumped off the sofa, shoved the heavy key deep into your coat pocket, and stormed out of your apartment without a second thought.
Outside, icy sleet pounded the city pavement. You threw yourself into your car, slammed the door, and tore through the freezing, slick streets with a furious, personal mission in mind. This wasn't police business. This was about the stubborn, brilliant, infuriating man who was trying to push you away for your own good.
You pulled up to the massive iron gates of Levi’s estate, the car tyres screeching against the wet driveway. Sweeping past the security checkpoint, you slammed the driver's side door shut and marched straight up the grand steps.
Two heavily armed syndicate guards immediately stepped into your path, holding up hands to stop you. "Detective, Mr Ackerman isn't taking visitors—"
"Fuck off!" you snapped, your eyes flashing with such lethal authority that both seasoned mob enforcers paled, instantly taking three steps back and letting you pass.
"Levi!" you shouted into the freezing air, stepping off the porch and marching around the perimeter to the sweeping back garden. The sleet soaked your hair and coat, but you barely felt the cold. "Levi! Get down here right now!"
High above, double French doors opened onto the master bedroom balcony. Levi stepped out into the freezing storm, leaning against the marble railing. He looked down at you, his eyes dark, his sharp face set in a hard, distant mask.
"Go home," he called down softly over the whistling wind. "It's freezing out here. You'll get sick."
"If you don't open these doors and let me in right now, Levi Ackerman, I swear to God I will shoot you again!" you yelled back, your voice echoing across the wide estate grounds.
A tiny, helpless smile cracked through Levi's stoic facade, a sudden, genuine warmth softening his eyes. He let out a breathless, quiet huff. "I'd love nothing more, sweetheart."
"Then let me in!"
"Not yet," he said.
"Why the hell not?!"
"Because I'm in the middle of planning things," Levi replied smoothly, standing tall on the balcony.
You let out a loud, frustrated huff, having officially reached the end of your patience. "I don't give a shit!"
Before Levi could react, you raised your boot and kicked the heavy back patio door. The lock snapped with a loud, wooden CRACK, the door swinging wide open into the grand parlour.
"Hey, wait—!" Levi’s alarmed voice echoed from above.
You stormed straight into the warmth of the estate and froze dead in your tracks.
The grand parlour was an absolute chaotic mess of vibrant colour. Stacks of high-end luxury boxes, rolls of silk gift wrap, ribbons, and hundreds of fresh, fragrant flowers covered the marble floors and tables. But these weren't just random luxury items. Your eyes widened as you recognised every single thing in the room: rare vintage books you had offhandedly mentioned weeks ago, delicate tea sets from East Asian markets, fine chocolates you adored, and personalised leather-bound journals. Everything you loved was scattered across the room, waiting to be wrapped.
Heavy, rapid footsteps thundered down the grand staircase. Levi appeared at the landing, rushing down the steps with a flustered look on his sharp face.
"I'm sorry for the mess," Levi exhaled quickly, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped into the parlour. "I... I was going to make it a surprise for you."
You blinked, turning your head slowly to look at him. "What... what is all this, Levi?"
Levi walked toward you, stopping just a few feet away. The guarded mob boss was completely gone, replaced by a man looking at you with raw vulnerability.
"I was planning to surprise you," Levi explained, his voice low, quiet, and sincere. "Because... because the killer was right about one thing. I've been lacking in the romance department. I'm a brute, sweetheart. I know how to protect you, I know how to tear down anyone who touches you... but I don't know how to do the sweet, soft things you deserve. So I've been spending the last three days trying to learn. I want to woo you properly. I want to sweep you off your feet."
He took another step closer, his eyes glowing with devotion. "I'm sorry for staying away. I was wrong. But now... I'm more excited to court you than I've ever been in my life."
You stared at him, your mouth slightly open as his words sank in. The sheer relief, anger, love, and absolute absurdity of the situation overwhelmed you.
"You..."
You stepped forward, reached up with both hands, grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, and shook him violently.
"You fucking idiot!" you yelled, tears of anger and adoration pricking at your eyes. "Do you have any idea what you put me through?! You made me think I was losing you! I thought you didn't want me anymore! I thought you were leaving me again!"
Levi went still, his hands coming up to gently rest on your wrists as he looked at you with deep regret. "Sweetheart—"
"If you wanted me, Levi..." you sobbed out, your voice trembling as you yanked him tighter, "...if you wanted my attention, if you wanted to prove something to me... you didn't need to hide away for three days buying out the city! You should have just done a grand gesture!"
Levi blinked, looking baffled. "A grand gesture? What do you mean?"
"This!" you breathed.
Without giving him a single second to react, you slammed Levi backwards with all your strength, shoving his back hard against the grand parlour wall, right in full view of the stunned guards and household staff standing in the hallway.
You reached up, cupped his face, pulled his head down, and kissed him fiercely on the mouth.
You pulled back just a fraction of an inch, your heavy breath mingling with his in the quiet parlour. Your hands remained firmly planted on his chest, feeling the wild, rapid hammer of his heart against your palms.
"Do you understand now?" you whispered, your voice thick with emotion as you searched his eyes.
Levi stared down at you, his pupils blown wide, his jaw clenched as he fought for breath. His hands came up, his long, calloused fingers closing firmly around your hips, anchoring you against him.
"Do you understand what this means?" Levi rasped your name, his voice dropping into a dark, dangerously low tone. "Do you understand what you're doing right now? Because once you say yes... once we cross this line, I am never letting you go. I will take all of you. Every single piece."
Instead of answering with words, your hands slid down to the hem of his dark, tight compression shirt, tugging it free from the waistband of his trousers. Levi went rigid above you, watching your every move like a predator held back by a fraying leash, waiting with lethal patience for the single command to strike.
Slowly, deliberately, you slid your warm palm beneath the dark fabric, running your fingers up the sharp, defined ridges of his abs. You leaned in, tilting your head up to nip softly at the sharp edge of his jawline, feeling his body shudder under your touch.
"I'm cold, Levi," you murmured against his neck, the icy sleet outside forgotten. "So very cold... and it's not the weather outside. I need you to warm me up. From the inside."
Levi let out a harsh, ragged breath, his fingers digging possessively into your hips. He pulled his head back just enough to look into your eyes, searching your very soul. "Do you really want me? Like I want you? This isn't a game. This is a life commitment."
You didn't hesitate. You held his gaze with unwavering certainty, nodding softly as a tender smile touched your lips. "I can't deny it anymore. I want you, Levi. Only you."
A low, guttural growl vibrated deep in Levi’s chest. His eyes darkened completely, his pupils expanding until the grey was almost swallowed whole. He turned his head slightly toward the hallway, where his stunned security team and household staff were still standing frozen in shock.
"Everyone," Levi ordered, his voice thick, husky, and leaving no room for argument. "Get out. Do not disturb us for the rest of the night. For anything."
"Yes, Boss!" a guard squeaked out, and within three seconds, the entire ground floor cleared as doors slammed shut and footsteps scrambled away.
The moment the parlour was empty, Levi threw all restraint to the wind.
He hooked his strong arms beneath your thighs and hoisted you effortlessly up into his arms. You let out a soft, breathless gasp, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist and clinging to his shoulders as his mouth came crashing down onto yours with overwhelming, passionate force.
Levi didn't break the kiss for a single second. He turned on his heel, striding out of the parlour, across the foyer, and carrying you up the sweeping marble staircase. His lips moved against yours with a fierce, ravenous hunger, his tongue sweeping in, tasting you, claiming you, moving with such intense devotion that your mind went blank.
You melted into his chest, your fingers tangling in his dark, silky hair as he carried you down the upper hallway. He kicked his master bedroom door wide open, carried you over the threshold, and slammed the door shut behind you, sealing the two of you away from the world.
Levi carried you through his dimly lit, spacious bedroom, striding over to a chest of drawers. He lifted you easily, setting you down on the smooth wood so you were at eye level with him.
He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his chest heaving. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the collar of his tight compression shirt and yanked it up over his head, tossing it onto the floor.
Your breath caught in your throat. Stripped of his top, Levi was a masterpiece of raw, dangerous power. Every sharp line of his abs, his broad shoulders, and his taut chest glistened in the low light, crisscrossed by dark syndicate tattoos and a lifetime of faded combat scars.
Levi leaned forward, placing his large hands flat on the edge of the chest of drawers on either side of your hips, trapping you against him. He felt you squirm, letting out a soft, needy whine at his proximity, and a slow, dark smile curved his lips against yours.
"Touch me," he commanded softly, his voice a low, heavy rasp.
You didn't need to be told twice. You brought your hands up, resting your palms flat against his broad chest, feeling the intense heat radiating off his skin. Your fingers traced over the cut of his muscles before stopping right over his ribs, gently running your thumb over the faint, circular pale mark left by the bullet you had fired into him weeks ago.
You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his chest right beside a scar, flicking your tongue against his warm skin before giving him a light, playful nip.
Levi let out a deep, chest-rumbling moan, his head tilting back as you kissed your way up his torso. You trailed soft, hot bites up the column of his throat, wrapping your lips around his Adam's apple and sucking gently, feeling it bob against your mouth as he rasped out your name.
Driven by instinct, your hand slid down to the buckle of his leather belt, your fingers quickly working to unhook it.
Before you could loosen it, Levi’s large, warm hand closed firmly around your wrist, halting your movement. "Not yet, sweetheart," he murmured against your hair, his silver eyes dark and hooded as he looked at you.
He reached down, grabbing the hem of your top, and pulled it carefully over your head, leaving you in your lace bra. Levi went completely still, his sharp gaze sweeping over your exposed skin. His eyes lingered on the faint, pale line on your shoulder and the small notch near your hip, the proud, silent badges of courage left behind by years of dangerous police work.
Slowly, Levi leaned in. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss directly against the scar on your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin as his hands reached around your back to unclasp your bra.
He unhooked it, sliding the straps down your arms and tossing the garment onto the floor beside his shirt.
Levi stepped back a fraction, his eyes darkening as he took you in. He admired the natural, heavy curve of your breasts, the way they rested soft and full against your chest, completely bare to him.
"Look at you..." Levi purred, his voice thick with admiration. "So impossibly beautiful... so hot." He moaned your name.
You tangled your fingers in his dark, silky hair, pulling his head back down to your chest. Levi needed no further invitation. He leaned in, taking one soft peek into his warm mouth, sucking deeply as his teeth grazed gently against the sensitive flesh, sending a wave of fiery electricity straight through you.
Levi’s breath hitched as his hand slid down past the waistband of your trousers, slipping easily beneath the silk of your panties. The moment his warm, calloused fingers brushed against your wet heat, a low growl escaped his throat. He ran his index and middle finger slowly up and down your folds, coating them in your slickness, before his thumb pressed firmly against your throbbing clit.
You gasped, your hips instinctively arching off the wooden chest of drawers. Levi didn't hesitate; he slicked his two fingers with your wetness and slowly, deliberately sank them inside you.
The stretch was exquisite. He began a slow, rhythmic pump of his fingers, his thumb working in steady, agonisingly good circles over your sensitive peak while his lips remained firmly attached to your breast, licking and nipping at your flesh.
"Levi... God, Levi..." you moaned, your head falling back as you rolled your hips against his hand, your fingers tightening, tangling deep into his dark hair. You called his name over and over like a sacred chant into the quiet room.
Levi pulled his face away from your chest, trailing hot, wet kisses up your sternum, over your collarbone, up to the column of your neck. "You're so fucking beautiful,” he rasped into your skin, his thumb working faster, his fingers pressing deep and firm inside you. "So addictive... everything I ever dreamed of... everything."
He sank his teeth gently into the crook of your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a soft, dark bruise. "I want to mark you all over," he growled possessively against your skin. "Make sure every bastard in this city knows you're mine. All mine."
You pulled his face to yours, capturing his lips in a desperate, breathless kiss as the tension in your lower stomach coiled tighter and tighter. His fingers curled inside you, hitting that exact spot, and the sudden, overwhelming snap of bliss surged through your entire body.
You shattered around his hand. Your inner walls clamped tightly around his two fingers, pulsing in intense waves of pleasure as you moaned helplessly straight into his mouth.
Levi smiled against your lips, his fingers riding out the tight contractions of your climax before slowly easing them out. "That's it, sweetheart..." he purred into your mouth, his voice dripping with dark pride. "Good girl..."
You leaned back against the wall, panting heavily, your chest heaving, your eyes hooded as you looked up at him. "Tell me... tell me it's not over..." you whimpered breathlessly.
Levi pulled his wet hand back between you, his eyes dark and gleaming as he brought his fingers to his lips, slowly licking them clean without ever breaking eye contact. "I told you. You're getting all of me."
You didn't wait another second. You wiggled frantically out of your soaked trousers and panties, kicking them off your ankles onto the floor. You spread your knees wide against the chest of drawers, reaching down to grab the waistband of his trousers, tugging him closer.
"Levi... please," you mumbled, completely undone. "I need you."
Levi’s jaw set hard. He unbuckled his trousers, pushing them down his legs, and released his thick, heavily veined shaft into his hand. He stroked himself twice, his knuckles grazing your thigh, before reaching back toward his back pocket to pull out his leather wallet for a condom.
Your hand reached out, stopping his wrist mid-air.
Levi paused, looking down at you, his eyes flashing with a question.
"No," you breathed, looking directly into his eyes with absolute devotion. "I want all of you. Raw... completely real. If... if that's okay with you."
A dark, fierce wave of satisfaction washed over Levi’s sharp face. He tossed his wallet onto the floor, letting it land somewhere in the shadows without a second thought.
"It's more than okay, sweetheart," he rasped, his voice rough with emotion.
He stepped between your thighs, resting the wide, hot head of his cock against your dripping entrance. You reached down, guiding him, and slowly lowered your hips, pressing yourself down onto him.
A sharp, breathless gasp tore from your throat as he slowly sank into you. He was impossibly thick, searingly hot, and massive, stretching you completely as he pushed inch by deep, glorious inch inside, filling you until there was no space left between you.
You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him as close as humanly possible, your chest crushed against his as a long, helpless moan spilt from your lips.
"Levi..." you whimpered, your fingers digging into his back. "Please... don't ever leave me."
"Never," Levi rasped against your temple, his hands smoothing down your sides, over your waist, and onto your hips, anchoring you as he drew back and drove deep and slow into you.
The heat of him filling you so completely made your head roll back. Every slow, heavy thrust stretched you to your absolute limit, building a white-hot, agonisingly sweet pressure deep in your belly.
Levi slammed one palm flat against the wall behind you for leverage, his eyes burning down into yours with an intensity so raw it made your skin flush a deep, gorgeous colour from your chest to your cheeks. He let out a low, guttural grunt as your inner walls clenched tightly around his thick length, almost bringing him to his knees right then and there.
"Fuck, sweetheart..." he panted, his chest heaving, sweat glistening on his collarbone under the dim light.
You reached up, cupping the warm back of his neck and digging your nails into his shoulder, holding onto him like a lifeline in the middle of a storm.
Levi leaned in, sinking his face into the crook of your neck, his warm lips pressing frantic, worshipping kisses against your pulse point.
"You feel so fucking good, sweetheart," Levi purred into your skin, his voice a gravelly, breathless praise. "So tight... so warm. You're so damn beautiful... so wonderful... my girl..."
Driven wild by his words, you rocked your hips back against his rhythmic thrusts, tilting your chin up to give him complete access to your neck and collarbone.
"Levi... God, you're incredible," you gasped, your voice trembling with pure pleasure as you matched his pace. "You feel so good inside me... you're so handsome..."
"Keep talking to me like that," Levi growled against your skin, his pace picking up, the slow, agonising thrusts turning into hard, driving hits that made the wooden chest of drawers creak beneath you.
Your brows furrowed in exquisite torture as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, threatening to snap you in half. "Don't stop, Levi! Please, don't stop!"
"I've got you, sweetheart," Levi praised, his hand sliding down your damp skin to hook behind your thigh, lifting your leg higher to open you up even deeper as he drove into you with relentless, breathtaking devotion.
Levi drove into you harder, his thrusts powerful and rhythmic, his teeth sinking gently into the soft flesh of your neck before soothing the sharp sting with his warm tongue. His heavy hand held your thigh firmly in place, keeping you pinned to him as his low, gravelly voice showered you in endless praise.
"That's it, sweetheart... take all of it... you're doing so damn good for me..."
You tugged frantically at his shoulders, your nails digging deep into his skin as the intense, white-hot pressure in your lower belly built to a dangerous, dizzying peak.
Levi tilted his head, leaning in to catch your earlobe between his teeth, giving it a playful, sharp little tug that made a shiver shoot down your spine. A dark, breathless smirk curved his lips against your skin.
"I know you're holding back," Levi purred into your ear, his voice dripping with wicked amusement. "Come on, sweetheart... be a good detective and cum for me."
You let out a soft, breathless gasp, your hand coming up to lightly slap his chest. "Levi...!"
A quiet, rich laugh vibrated through his chest at your feeble attempt to punish him. Driven by your reaction, Levi shifted his weight, driving his hips into you with faster, harder, unrelenting thrusts. The heavy wooden chest of drawers banged repeatedly against the wall in a steady, frantic rhythm.
"Let go,” he commanded your name thickly. "That's it... let go for me. That's what good girls do."
You lost all control. Your head fell back, resting against the wall behind you, sending your messy hair fanning out across your shoulders. Your toes curled tightly against the edge of the wood, every muscle in your body locking up as the world spun out of focus.
"Levi!" you cried out, your voice echoing off the high ceiling.
You dragged your nails hard across his broad, bare back, leaving red trails in your wake as your body shattered. Your inner walls clamped down in a wild, violent rhythm, milking every thick inch of him as an intense, breathless climax rushed through your veins.
Levi let out a heavy, satisfied grunt at the sheer tightness of your release. He leaned in instantly, catching your breathless cries with his mouth, kissing you deeply as his thumbs smoothed over your hips.
"Good girl... so perfect... I've got you," he praised softly against your lips, kissing your nose, your cheeks, and your forehead as your body trembled in the aftershocks.
Without pulling out of your warm heat, Levi reached down and wrapped his arms securely beneath your rear and thighs. He lifted you effortlessly into his arms, your legs remaining tightly wrapped around his waist, keeping his thick shaft buried deep inside you.
With slow, confident strides, Levi carried you across the quiet room toward his massive, velvet-draped bed, his eyes fixed on you.
Levi laid you gently in the centre of the massive, dark velvet bed, stepping back to stand at the foot of the mattress. His breath came in heavy, ragged pants, his bare chest heaving as his eyes swept slowly over your exposed skin, taking in every curve, every scar, and the flush of pleasure painting your body.
"Stay right there," he rasped, his voice dark and thick with devotion.
He leaned forward, his large hands reaching out to firmly cup your hips, lifting them slightly off the soft mattress to set the angle. "I'm going to show you true, deep loving, sweetheart."
Without another second's delay, Levi bucked forward, driving his thick length all the way back inside you in one swift, powerful motion. You let out a sharp, gasping moan, your breasts bouncing with the impact. A slow, wicked smile curved his sharp lips as he took in the sight, before he began bucking hard and fast, setting a relentless, searing rhythm that made the heavy bedframe groan.
You arched your back off the mattress, your hands reaching up above your head to twist tightly into the sheets. The intensity was dizzying, but looking down at the man worshipping your body, a sudden surge of bold confidence bloomed inside your chest.
You looked straight into his eyes, a breathless smile playing on your lips. "Do you like what you see, Levi?"
"I adore it," Levi growled, his hips never missing a beat as he drove into you. "I want to see this every single day for the rest of my life."
His gaze shifted down, tracing the path of his dark tattoos against your soft skin, lingering on the faint badges of your police scars, and fixing on the slick, gorgeous friction of where he was sliding deep in and out of you. A low, primal growl vibrated in his chest. "Fuck... we look so fucking good together.”
You looked down at his broad shoulders and cut abs, gasping as his pace picked up. "You're the one... who looks good..."
Levi let out a breathless, fond huff. "You have no fucking idea how incredible you are. How damn beautiful."
You turned your head to the side, biting your lip with a needy whine as he continued to ravage you with deep, powerful thrusts. "You're... you're just saying that cause you're fucking me..."
The moment those words left your mouth, Levi released your hips. He slammed his forearms down on either side of your head, bringing his broad chest flush against yours and trapping you beneath his heat without slowing his relentless, hard-driving pace below.
"No," Levi growled softly against your lips, his eyes blazing with sincerity. "No, sweetheart. This isn't fucking."
He captured your mouth in a deep, bruising kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as his hips drove home, making you cry out into his mouth.
"This is making love," Levi murmured into the kiss, his voice trembling with a rare, overwhelming emotion. "I am making love to the woman of my dreams."
He trailed hot, possessive bites down the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath searing against your pulse point as his thrusts grew deeper, more desperate, and completely breathless.
"You're the only woman I want," Levi whispered fiercely against your skin, his body driving into yours with every ounce of love he possessed. "For the rest of my life."
You wrapped your arms tightly around his broad shoulders, pulling his chest flat against yours as your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck.
"Levi..." you mumbled breathlessly, your voice trembling with pure devotion as he drove into you. "I want that too... I want forever with you."
Levi’s thrusts slowed for a fraction of a second. He pulled his head back, his forearms resting beside your shoulders as his eyes searched your flushed, pleasure-filled face. He took in every detail: your blown-out pupils, your parted lips, and the sincerity shining in your eyes.
A gentle quiet washed over his sharp features, melting away every last trace of his stoic armour.
"I love you," he said, your name softly. The words fell from his lips with an effortless, gravity-defying weight, simple and absolute.
Your heart skipped a beat, a sudden wave of emotion swelling in your chest. You raised a hand, gently cupping the warm side of his face, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. "Do you mean it?"
"Yes," Levi murmured without a second of hesitation. He turned his head slightly, pressing a soft, lingering kiss right into the palm of your hand, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. "I love you."
Tears of pure joy stung the corners of your eyes. You reached up, cupping the back of his head with both hands and pulling his face down toward yours as the emotion finally overflowed.
"I love you too, Levi," you whispered, your voice thick with tears. "I love you so much."
Levi went completely still above you, his breath hitching in his chest. "Say it again," he rasped, his voice raw and raspy.
A tear slipped down as you smiled up at him, your hands framing his face. "I love you."
A brilliant smile spread across Levi’s face, warm, blindingly handsome, and filled with a relief so deep it seemed to shake him to his core.
"Forgive me, sweetheart," Levi purred, a dark, wicked glint returning to his silver eyes as his hips began to move once more. "Forgive me for going so hard and losing my head... but you got me all fucking excited."
Before you could even answer, Levi set a hard, relentless, and lightning-fast pace, sinking deep into your heat over and over. He leaned down, smothering your lips, your cheeks, and your neck with a desperate barrage of hot, hungry kisses, while his large hand reached between your chests, thoroughly massaging and squeezing your breast as he drove you both right up to the edge of paradise.
A loud, helpless cry tore from your throat as the sheer intensity of it all completely overwhelmed your senses. Every nerve ending burned with a white-hot, dizzying heat. The tight coil in your stomach snapped, and you shattered once again, your inner walls clamping around his thick length. Your legs trembled uncontrollably around his waist, every muscle in your body locking up as a wave of absolute bliss consumed you.
You lay back against the pillows, panting heavily, your chest heaving as the aftershocks washed over you. "Levi... God," you gasped breathlessly, looking up at him with hooded, heavy eyes. "How... how can you still keep going...?"
Levi paused, hovering over you, his sharp face flushed, sweat glistening on his bare skin. A breathless, dark smirk touched his lips. "Because I'm so fucking in love with you, sweetheart."
You met his gaze, a spark of bold, breathless mischief rising through your exhaustion. "If you were really that in love... you'd mark me from the inside."
Levi’s eyes flared dangerously, his pupils expanding until the grey was almost swallowed whole. Without a word, he reached up, his long fingers gripping the heavy wooden headboard above your head so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Are you sure?" he rasped, his voice dropping into a dark, gravelly growl that sent a fresh shiver down your spine. "Are you sure you want me to cum inside you?"
"Yes," you breathed without a single second of hesitation. "Do it, Levi. Fill me up."
A wild, primal smile broke across his face, and all remaining restraint shattered.
Levi became like an animal in heat. He set a pace harder, faster, and more relentless than anything before, his hips driving into you with powerful, desperate thrusts that made the bed slam against the wall. You dug your nails deep into his hips, clinging to him as the sheer force of his devotion drove you back up to the absolute edge of sanity.
A low, guttural moan vibrated deep in Levi’s chest as his body began to lock up, the intense climax finally catching up to him.
He released his grip on the headboard and threw his arms around you, pulling you against his chest, locking you in a possessive embrace. He needed to be as close to you as humanly possible.
Levi smothered your face, your cheeks, and your lips in a desperate flurry of hot, feverish kisses, his hips thrusting forward one last time, driving his cock as deep inside your heat as it could go.
Your inner walls clamped tight around his thick length once more, milking him uncontrollably as a third wave of bliss washed over you. Your legs trembled against his sides, undone by the sheer force of his possession.
Levi let out a low, guttural grunt as your pulsing heat massaged him, the sensation driving him straight over the edge. He captured your lips in a rough, desperate kiss, his hips bucking two final, heavy times before he buried his cock as deep as physically possible and came hard into you.
A shared, breathless moan escaped both of your throats, muffled against each other's lips. The intense heat of his release filled you, an intoxicating, intimate sensation that made your soul ache with satisfaction, while Levi relished the profound, primitive pleasure of claiming you inside and out.
His hips shuddered against yours as he emptied himself into you, neither of you breaking the deep, possessive kiss until his release finally ebbed away.
Levi slowly pulled back, his chest heaving as he panted softly above you. A tender, breathtaking warmth softened his silver eyes. He leaned down, smothering your forehead, nose, cheeks, and lips in a flurry of gentle, reverent kisses.
"I'll be right back, sweetheart," he mumbled, raspy against your mouth, smoothing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
He reluctantly slipped out of your warmth, leaving the bed for a short while. When he returned, he carried a wooden tray loaded with fresh food, glasses of water, and a warm, damp towel.
With incredible gentleness, the feared syndicate boss knelt on the edge of the mattress and tenderly cleaned your body, washing away the sweat and lovemaking with careful, deliberate strokes. He helped you sit up, patiently feeding you small bites of food and holding the glass of water to your lips until you were refreshed.
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his broad chest, burying his face in your hair. "I'm never leaving you," he whispered fiercely, his voice thick with devotion. "I promise you. I am yours for the rest of my life."
After clearing the tray, Levi helped you slip into one of his soft, oversized black t-shirts before changing into a pair of dark lounge pants himself. He slid back under the heavy duvet, opening his arms, and you immediately curled right up against his side, resting your head on his chest.
Driven by the lingering warmth in your blood, you reached up, trailing your fingers over his strong jawline before leaning in to press a lingering, sweet kiss against his lips.
Levi let out a quiet, rich chuckle, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. "Are you sure, sweetheart?" he asked, a fond, amused glint in his eyes. "Not too tired?"
You smiled against his mouth, your hand sliding down his stomach. "I want more."
Levi’s eyes darkened instantly, a dark, wicked smirk curving his lips. He leaned in, sinking his teeth gently into the crook of your neck, sucking the tender skin until you let out a soft gasp.
"I'm more than happy to go again..." Levi purred against your skin, his hands sliding down your thighs, parting them gently on the mattress. "...but first, I need to eat you."
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Levi Ackerman x originale female character/oc
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 3,155 words
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Adult content - underage ppl please do not engage!!
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Summary: After the rumbling, Levi and Alizee (author’s note: an oc of mine, same age as Eren&co), both traumatized, wounded and tired, find themselves co-habitating a small cottage in Paradis.
Levi’s pen scratched against the paper, the only sound breaking the silence of the night. The room was illuminated solely by the oil lamp on his desk, where Levi, stripped down to his shirt sleeves, was taking advantage of the nighttime respite from the summer heat to catch up on a backlog of paperwork. Behind him, Alizee tossed and turned in her sleep, muttering to herself as she always did. Levi was used to it; in fact, it was one of the reasons he liked sharing a room with her. Neither of them slept much at all, and when they did, they were restless, prone to sleepwalking. They almost never slept at the same time, one of them was always awake. Levi had listened to her unconscious ramblings for countless nights, and on just as many, he had woken from a nightmare to find her sitting on her bed writing music, gazing at him with that bittersweet, faintly melancholic look that had always defined her.
A gasp louder than the rest caught his attention. He stopped writing and listened closely.
"...Colette..."
Levi felt his blood run cold. He turned around slowly to find her completely buried under the sheets.
"...Colette... ...the twins... ...run..."
He had heard her relive the deaths of Hange, Bertholdt, and Sasha, the farewell to her mother—but never the attack on Shiganshina fourteen years earlier.
"...no... ...Colette run... ...please..."
Neither of them had ever comforted the other after a nightmare. Not directly, at least. It was always subtle gestures: bringing over a glass of water, humming a melody, reading a book chapter out loud, but never a hug, a word of comfort, or shared tears.
"...The children... ...mama... ...Colette, where are you..."
Levi stood up and moved toward the bed, his movements feeling unnatural yet mechanical. He climbed onto the mattress, kneeling at the foot of it, his bad knee creaking faintly. Alizee thrashing more violently in the grip of the nightmare, Levi leaned over her to shake her free from those visions.
"NO!"
Alizee screamed at the top of her lungs, bolting upright as her eyes snapped open. The first thing she saw were Captain Levi’s grey irises, and then his entire face, closer to hers than it had ever been. Levi was holding her by the shoulder, stroking her bare skin with his thumb in an awkward, unpracticed way that betrayed how unfamiliar he was with such intimacy.
"Captain, I... I’m sorry, I disturbed you..."
A final tear spilled from Alizee’s eyelashes. Levi didn't even consciously register moving his hand; it shifted from her arm to her cheek, brushing away the tear as best he could.
"It’s alright. You’re safe. All your siblings are."
He had no idea where those words came from, yet they had escaped his lips so naturally, overflowing with comfort, warmth, and reassurance. Alizee stared into his eyes, incredulous. They had never touched each other except for strictly professional reasons. She had never even summoned the courage to talk to him without using his title or speak to him informally, even though he had asked her to a thousand times. The contact must have felt strange to Levi too, because he froze on the spot with a blank, almost stunned expression, his hand resting on her soft cheek. Alizee followed his gaze and flushed bright red: one of her nightgown straps had fallen, and one of her breasts had slipped out completely.
They sat in a heavy, awkward silence for a handful of seconds before Levi lowered his hand from her cheek to her arm, delicately adjusting the strap. He couldn't avoid the contact, however; as his knuckles brushed against her nipple, erect from the draft seeping through the open window, he caught himself thinking about how much he liked her chest: round, lovely, and laced with faint stretch marks.
Alizee’s body had changed dramatically since the end of the war. After years of being a malnourished girl, she could finally eat her fill without having to worry about her siblings. Her frame had transformed from that of a thin, angular child into the lush, healthy figure of a woman; an image that was currently spinning wildly through Levi’s head.
It had been years since he had been with someone. After Erwin’s death, yet another person he loved gone, he had surrendered to despair. Driven by a quiet madness, he had frequented the capital's brothels for a few months. Then one night, during a moment of sudden clarity while still inside the prostitute he was with, he realized he had turned into the same depraved, brutal clientele that used to visit his mother. It was like waking from a trance. Without a word, he dressed and left, leaving the woman far more money than what he owed. He felt so utterly disgusted with himself that from that moment on, he imposed a sort of involuntary celibacy upon himself. He hated what he was capable of becoming, and if precluding himself sex was what it took to prevent it, so be it. It wasn't as though he had ever cared for it that much anyway.
All these memories flashed through Levi’s mind in less than a second as, acting beside himself, he leaned down over Alizee and kissed her. Caught off guard, the girl took a moment to grasp what was happening, but she didn't push him away. On the contrary, she reached a hand behind his neck, stroking the short hair of his undercut and pulling him closer.
That touch brought Levi back to his senses. He recoiled abruptly, at a loss for words. He stammered a half-voiced apology, but didn't dare move away. Alizee placed her hand on his cheek and met his eyes with a quiet confidence she didn't know she possessed.
"It's alright," she said to him this time. "Nothing happened if you don't want it to."
Levi cast his eyes downward, unable to hold her gaze for the first time. He had watched Alizee transform from a terrified, rage-filled child into a blunt, overly burdened teenager, and finally into an intelligent, assertive woman who was lastly at peace. Like him, she had lost countless people she cared for, people she loved. She had bottled up her feelings for years, yet unlike him, she had ultimately proven capable of letting go. In that moment, he realized how her bright laughter, her silent tears, and her quiet night mutterings had woven themselves into the fabric of his daily life. Every small detail - the way she brushed her hair, her music, her messy notebooks - were things about her he cherished, things that kept him company, that he carried with him every day, and that made him feel at home. They were small pieces of her that he loved.
"But I do want to, Alizee."
At that, she was the one to kiss him. Her lips were less fiery, more reserved, as if she were afraid of doing something wrong. Levi cupped her face in his hands and brought her nearer, deepening the kiss. Alizee was startled by his gentleness, so strikingly at odds with his usual rough, abrasive demeanor. Levi’s hands slid down her neck in a long, trailing caress, moving over her bare shoulders, her ribcage, her waist, and coming to rest just above her hips, pulling her tighter against him. Alizee laced her fingers behind his neck and slipped them beneath his collar, sending a shiver through him that lingered right between a tickle and arousal. Levi’s fingers traced upward along the fallen straps of her nightgown, slowly pushing the fabric down her arms.
"Stop me if you don't feel comfortable with this, okay?" he whispered against her lips between kisses.
In response, Alizee undid the top button of his white shirt, working her way down to the third before pausing to slip the nightgown off her arms. Levi gazed at her, bare from the waist up beneath him—her pale skin dusted with freckles across her shoulders, her delicate collarbones, her full breasts, and her soft stomach. His head spun as he pulled the nightgown off her completely, lifting her legs one at a time to reveal a pair of lace-trimmed panties. Living together, he was well aware of her delicate choice in underwear, but he hadn't anticipated the effect it would have on him.
He moved from her mouth to kiss her neck, hearing her sigh and arch her back, pressing herself against him as she sank back into the mattress. Her hands worked their way under his shirt; she unbuttoned it to the hem and slid it off gently, running her fingers over his scar-ridden chest. He had aged too, even if he hadn't gained weight like she had, and the marks of time were written clearly across the tired body of humanity's strongest soldier. His skin was still taut over battle-ready muscle, but it was patterned with small blemishes, marks, and healed wounds that, in her eyes, made him look like the most breathtaking man in the world.
Levi kept kissing and sucking at her neck while one hand lightly trailed over her mons, drawing a shuddering breath from her lips. Alizee hooked her fingers into his belt loops and unfastened his trousers quickly, but left him to pull them down himself, knowing how self-conscious he remained, even after all these years, about the jagged scars on his legs. Levi smiled at her thoughtful gesture and kissed her again, lying over her and letting her legs wrap around him, pressing their hips together.
Alizee pushed his hands toward the elastic of her underwear, encouraging him to slide them off. Levi obliged, his hand stroking the stump below her right knee as he did. The faint impression of the wooden leg's strap was still visible around her thigh, and right then, it struck Levi as the most captivating sight imaginable. His hand caressed its way up her inner thigh until he reached her core. With two fingers, he parted her folds, finding her slick and ready for him.
Alizee pulled him in to kiss him once more while sliding off his underwear, freeing Levi's erection from the constraint of the fabric. In a sudden wave of boldness, she wrapped her hand around his length, making him gasp. Levi broke the kiss, knelt between her legs, and spread them apart, lifting and bending her knees. Alizee blushed, suddenly feeling intensely exposed, but Levi reassured her by pressing a tender kiss just below her navel. He straightened up and slowly guided his tip against her entrance, slicking himself with her moisture, and while looking her straight in the eyes, he slid into her with utmost care.
As he filled her completely, Alizee let out her first soft moan, and Levi thought he might lose control right then and there. He paused for a few seconds to let her adjust to the feeling, taking the opportunity to trace every detail of her face and body: her heavy-lidded eyes hazy with desire, her parted, swollen red lips, the copper cascade of her hair spilled across the stark white sheets, her soft belly, her slender fingers resting on his chest, and his own hands gripping her smooth, supple thighs. She wasn't just a woman; she was a goddess, and tonight it was Levi's sole duty to serve and honour her as she deserved.
He pulled back partially and drove deep into her again, stealing another moan from her lips. He wanted to claim every sound she could give him, leave purple bruises from his fingers on her pale skin, make her his own and his own only for at least one night. His mind reeled as he quickened his pace, leaning down until their foreheads touched so he could watch her eyes as she slowly unraveled beneath him.
"Levi..."
Her voice breathed his name like the sweetest plea, her hands sinking into the cropped hair at the nape of his neck to pull him down.
Levi could feel her tightening around him, her honeyed eyes gazing up at him, lost in pleasure. He released his grip on one of her legs, reaching down between them just above where they joined, and began to stroke her clit in slow, circular motions. Alizee let out a sound that was half-groan, half-sob, her fingers clutching tightly at his hair.
"Levi... please... right there...”
He couldn't help but think that it was the first time she had dropped the formal titles and used his first name by itself. He loved the way it sounded coming from her.
"Look at me," he managed to choke out just before she shattered into an intense orgasm, her nails digging into his shoulders as she called his name over and over again.
The sight of her trembling, arched body and the tight contractions rippling around his length dragged him past his own limit. Slipping his strong arms beneath her back, he pulled her flush against his chest and buried his face in the crook of her neck as his thrusts grew urgent and erratic. It was the gentle kiss Alizee pressed to his neck that finally broke him. Levi felt as though a dam had burst inside him; he had to bite down on her shoulder to keep from groaning out loud as he came deep inside her.
They laid motionless for a long time, eyes closed, utterly spent. Eventually, Levi withdrew gently, watching the mix of her slickness and his seed trickle down her thighs as she turned onto her side, shifting her sore legs. He retrieved his handkerchief from his nightstand to wipe her clean as best he could before collapsing onto the bed beside her. He felt as drained as if he had just spent three days straight in ODM gear. He looked at her one last time and kissed her forehead before falling into a deep, exhausted sleep.
When Levi woke, bright morning light was pouring through the half-closed shutters. Even before opening his eyes, he could feel Alizee’s arms wrapped around his waist, her nose and breasts pressed against his back. After waiting several minutes, he finally decided to get up, taking a few extra seconds to take in the scene: Alizee was spooning him from behind, one hand resting on his chest and the other lying limp on the sheets, her blue-painted nails catching a stray beam of sunlight. Their legs were tangled together, making it look as though Levi were holding her close, terrified she might slip away. The irony wasn't lost on him, given that he was the one getting up first.
He carefully repositioned the arm resting on his chest so she would be comfortable, drawing the sheet back over her. Guilt ate away at him; he barely understood what he was doing as he slipped into the bathroom to wash and dress as fast as he could. The truth was, he was running away. He - Levi Ackerman, humanity’s strongest soldier, who had faced the worst terrors without a flicker of fear - was acting like the worst kind of coward. He shut his nagging conscience up by telling himself he was just going for a walk to clear his head, and stepped out of the room.
About an hour later, the harsh light roused Alizee as well. She opened her eyes to the faint impression Levi’s body had left on the mattress, already knowing he wouldn't be there. She hadn't expected him to be. She knew him well enough to know he wasn't a romantic, and he certainly wasn't looking for a partner. She was well aware that last night was likely just a one-off, but she couldn't stop a sharp pang of disappointment from piercing her heart. She called herself an idiot for feeling that way, but as she rolled over to nestle into the side of the bed that still smelled like Levi, she snapped out of it, recognizing her hopes for what they were: a foolish fantasy. She sat up, stretching in the sunlight, and closed her eyes, resting her head against the wall behind the bed.
The heavy knot in her chest tightened, only to dissolve in an instant when the bedroom door clicked open. Levi walked in without making eye contact and shut the door behind him. Without a word, he set a mug of tea and a small plate with a slice of buttered bread down in front of her. Alizee stared at him with wide, stunned eyes, as if he had suddenly grown a second head. Then she realized she was still completely naked and hurriedly pulled the sheet over herself, her cheeks burning.
"I’m not looking. Get dressed and tell me when I can turn around."
Alizee appreciated the gesture (even though he had already seen everything) and threw on the first thing she found tangled in the blankets: Levi’s shirt from the night before.
"You can turn around," she said, deciding it was time to start addressing him casually. "Don't worry, I’ll wash it later." She gave him a timid smile after catching the look he gave her upon noticing what she was wearing.
Levi sat down beside her on the unmade bed, watching her in silence as she ate. Neither of them said a word for at least ten minutes. When Alizee made a move to get out of bed, she felt a slight tug and realized he was holding onto the sleeve of her shirt.
"Stay," he said simply.
He didn't know why he said it. He didn't even fully understand what had gone through his mind during that forty-minute solitary walk. He had walked all the way to the edge of the barracks, out to the vast grounds where the fallen soldiers were buried, and found himself standing before Hange’s grave.
"Levi, you deserve to be happy too."
She had told him that many years ago, back when he was working himself to the bone ahead of the scout mission to Marley. She had broken down in tears right after, crushed by the unwanted burden of the Commander title Erwin had passed to her. Levi looked down at the wreath of poppies resting against the headstone. He had watched Alizee weave it while sitting under an apple tree at Queen Historia’s orphanage. She had made four identical ones: one for Hange, one for her parents, one for Sasha, and one for Bertholdt.
In that moment, Levi had wanted to bring her every flower in Paradis and weave them into her hair. He shouldn't run away. She would understand if he did, of course, but she would still hurt. And though he could barely admit it to himself, he knew he would hurt, too.
"Thank you," he whispered, resting a hand on the cold stone. Then he turned on his heels and walked back. He couldn't bring her all the flowers in Paradis, but at least breakfast was something he could manage.
☁️ Author’s corner: hello and welcome to my blog🤍 This is my first ever work on here (or on any platform for what matters lmao). Let me know what do you think about it! I'm not a native speaker and i feel like you can tell by my somewhat sloppy translation in some passages, as i tend to write in my first language and then traspose to english. If you find any mistakes please feel free to correct me :)))
Modern AU - smut - mafia Levi - first time as a couple.
It's the first time you're intimate as a couple and Levi shows you exactly how you should be loved.
Levi Ackerman possessed enough wealth to buy whatever he wanted, and enough power to make the city bend to his every command. But the only thing in the world he truly treasured was you, his quiet, cosy girl who had stumbled into his world and completely captured his cold heart.
He knew you weren't used to luxury, nor were you used to being loved with such overwhelming, worshipful devotion. So, he took his time with you. He spoiled you with soft clothes, quiet evenings, and endless gentle affection, making sure you felt entirely safe before taking this final, intimate step together.
Now, lying in his grand bed, your legs parted wide for him. He had spent the last hour devouring you, his tongue working between your thighs with such fierce, dedicated patience that you had already shattered into multiple breathtaking orgasms before he even touched his own belt.
And now, he was finally inside you.
Levi was buried to the hilt, his cock incredibly big and thick, stretching your walls just right so you wrapped snugly around every single inch of him. His normally slicked-back dark hair was damp with sweat, hanging messily over his sharp forehead. The intricate black tattoos covering his broad shoulders and muscular chest glistened like pure art in the dim light as his muscles flexed with every slow, deliberate push.
The pleasure was so overwhelming, so intense, that you instinctively turned your head to the side, shyly looking away from his intense, silver gaze.
Your eyes flicked down to where your bodies were connected. You watched through a haze of bliss as the base of his thick length slid slowly in and out, glistening heavily with your sweet arousal and his own slick heat.
Levi let out a low, gravelly chuckle that vibrated deep in his chest. "Does it look good to you, sweetheart?"
Blushing furiously, you looked away again, pressing the back of your hand over your mouth to muffle a needy, breathless moan.
Levi’s large, calloused hand left the mattress, gently caressing your hot cheek. He stroked his thumb over your skin, his voice dropping into a soft, velvety murmur. "Don't hide from me, darling. Don't be shy. I want to hear every sound you make."
He leaned down and rolled his hips in a deep, agonisingly slow circle, grinding his pelvis flush against yours. The sudden spike of friction hit your core so hard that your toes curled into the silk sheets.
You frantically reached down, grabbing his solid hips with trembling hands. "Wait—Levi, wait..."
Levi instantly paused his hips, his eyes melting with immediate concern as he looked down at you. "Why wait, princess? Am I hurting you?"
You shook your head quickly, tears of sweet pleasure pricking at the corners of your eyes. "No... no, it's not that. It's just... it feels too good. It's too much."
A soft, devastatingly handsome smile broke across Levi’s face. "That’s how it’s supposed to feel with me," he whispered lovingly.
Gently, he reached down, taking your trembling wrists in his palms and slowly bringing your hands up, pinning them securely next to your head on the soft pillows. He leaned down until his chest was pressed against yours, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, intoxicating kiss.
"Can I keep going, sweetheart?" Levi asked softly against your mouth.
You mumbled incoherently, completely overwhelmed, unsure of what to even think or feel as your body throbbed around him.
"I can make you cum all night long with just my cock," Levi purred, his breath hot and sweet against your lips. "You just have to say yes for me."
A delicious shiver ran straight down your spine. "Yes," you whimpered softly. "Yes, Levi, please."
"Good girl," he rumbled.
Levi didn't rush. He kept the pace deep, heavy, and slow, rolling his hips with a masterclass in control. Every single thrust hit the exact spot inside you, making wave after wave of pure, throbbing pleasure shoot straight to your core.
"Ah... Levi!" you moaned out loud, dropping all your shyness as his name tumbled from your lips like a prayer.
"That's it," Levi praised softly, his eyes locked on yours as he watched you unravel. "Let me show you the joys of your own body, darling. Let me show you how good it can feel... how safe you are to just lose yourself in me."
Your moans grew higher, louder, and sweeter, filling the quiet bedroom. You pulled your hands from his light grip, your fingers digging your nails into the backs of his hands as another massive wave of intense heat began to coil tightly in your lower belly.
"Oh god..." you gasped, leaning your head back into the pillow, your throat exposed to him.
Levi leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he gave one final, impossibly deep, grinding thrust that hit your cervix.
"No god, princess," Levi growled softly, his voice thick with a fiercely possessive love. "Just me."
At those words, your mind completely snapped. Your inner walls slammed down around his thick length, locking him tight as a massive, soul-shattering orgasm ripped through your body. You cried out his name, your hips lifting off the bed to meet his as you came hard, the very first time a man had ever managed to make you climax during sex.
You shivered beneath his heavy, warm frame, completely losing yourself to the absolute bliss of his claim, knowing with absolute certainty in your heart that you were going to be addictively, hopelessly in love with Levi Ackerman for the rest of your life.
