#m.dni

A heat was starting to build in between your thighs, and by the time the film’s credits were rolling, sexual tension was wound tightly inside of you. You needed a release.

You reach for your ear buds and your phone, and quickly scroll through some smut audios you’d saved for just this sort of occasion.

The audio starts and you close your eyes, letting the deep voice wind you up even more. You imagine it’s Levi's voice and begin to rub yourself, first outside of your pants, then finally sliding under your panties and touching your clit.

Suddenly, fingers gently brush your cheek. Your eyes quickly open and you flinch. “Levi?” You practically throw your ear buds across the room. “What are you doing back already?”

“I met the people I needed to meet and then I got the hell out of there." His eyes move across your body. "I don’t need to ask what you’ve been up to.”

Your hand was still in your underwear. You pull it out. “I…”

He instantly grabs it. “No, don’t stop on my account. I wanna watch you…” his hand moves along the waistband of your pants, bringing them down over your hipbones, “…touch yourself.”

The air hits the bare skin of your lower half and you shift on the sofa as Levi sits on the opposite end, getting a full view of you.

Having Levi's eyes on you in such a voyeuristic way, is enough to get you turned on again. You close your eyes and take a deep breath; he's so close you can smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with tobacco. You start touching yourself again, letting your fingers slide over your sensitive folds and around your clit.

It feels so good, but it's not enough now. Your chest rises as you let out a sharp puff of air.

"Poor baby...not doing it for you now is it?"

You open your eyes to see Levi moving closer to you, finally caging your head with one arm as the other caresses your inner thigh.

"Not as good as when I touch you, hm?" His hand inches closer and closer between your legs.

"Maybe you need a little help."

He lays his hand on top of yours and guides your middle finger over your clit again, making tauntingly slow circles. You let out a moan.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" Wet from your juices, he pushes your finger inside of you, guiding it to move in and out.

"Mmmm...Levi..." you breathlessly moan as he continues to guide every movement of your hand.

"You want mine too, don't you?" He slides his finger in with yours, creating more friction. "How's that?"

You don't need the answer because the blissed-out smile on your face tells him everything he needs to know. You start moving your hips as both fingers continue to slide in and out of you.

Only when you come does Levi finally lean over and kiss you. "Not tired, are you?" You shake your head.

"Good. Because I'm not finished with you yet."

--//--

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“Beautiful,” he mutters, and you feel shy under his dull gaze, eyes dawdling gingerly over your body, dressed in lacy lingerie. He hoists you in his arms, making his way to the bed, your legs anchored around his waist, your heels tapping on his butt cheeks. Arms tethered behind his neck, tongues urgently fighting for dominance. You can feel the excitement growing under his pants 

He scuffs off one patent leather shoe, his free rayon-clad toes push down the other oxford at the heel and he drops you on the bed, your legs dangling over the end. He crouches down, and lifts your right foot first, resting it on his thigh, slips off the white strap through the buckle and tosses away the heel. He repeats the process for the other foot. Then raises your leg lightly, his mouth strides from your knee down to your ankle, drawing a trail of moist kisses, and retraces his steps. Giggles dribble from you. His lips tickle your thigh as they move upward, and his teeth hook at the white garter, pulling at it and letting it spring back; he chases it, and drags it down, slowly, until it dangles in your toes and slips down.

His lips find yours again and he shifts you to the center of the bed, his fingers brushing like feathers over your ribs, then your waist, as you undo the buttons of his shirt. He leans back, sitting on his heels and pulls it off, the silver glow that seeps through the window baths his perfectly chiseled body in luster as a marble sculpture.  

The buckle of his belt clatters on the floor, he slips off the bed and  wiggles his black slacks down, then crawls back and kneels between your legs.  

“You’re gorgeous, Levi.” You stretch out your arms, making grabby hands. “Let me touch you.”  

He smirks, and hovers over you, his hands denting the mattress at the sides of your head. You look like a goddess, hair sprawled, laying beneath him in that sexy lingerie, in the middle of the scattered red petals. His nose nudges on your cheek as your fingertips map his naked chest and abs, burning his skin like molten wax, his muscles rippling under your touch. His nose strolls down along your jawline, and tips your chin up, planting kisses leisurely on your neck, grazing that thrumming spot.  

Your blood fizzes through your veins, igniting every inch of your body, from flesh to bone. “I want you, Levi.” You mewl, lolling your head to the side so his mouth continues the blissful onslaught under your jaw.  

Levi pulls apart a bit, grips your jaw and forces you to look at him. He scans your face. Your cheeks are flushed pink, specks of white quail on your dilated pupils, faint puffs of breath sip out of your already worn out lips. While engrossed in your beauty, your sneaky hand finds the hem of his underwear and slip under, in quest of what you covet now. Your fingers curled around him, eliciting a cloying gasp; hips jerk up. He’s girthy, and oozing, and a drop of panic smears in your lower belly.

“Not yet,” he tows your hand off and hauls you up and unclasps your bra  after a few attempts. His fumbling hands cup your breast, nipples tautened with desire rolling between his fingers, and a reel of moans spools off your mouth. You lurch back, propped in your arms, head hanging backwards, brows twitching. You feel his knuckles brushing down past your navel as his tongue teases and swirls around your hardened nubs. Desire pools between your thighs; your core aches with greed.  

“Ah! Levi, please!” You tilt your head down and look at him having fun with your breasts. You run your fingers through his hair and clench your hand, pushing him down to where you need him the most. “Levi!” You wail, as he nibbles on your perky bud, refusing to leave. He pulls apart by a bit, gazing up to you, your nipple captive between his teeth. He lets go, simpering, and drags his lips back to yours.  

He pushes you down on bed. 

“Y/N.” he utters against your mouth. 

“Y/N.” Against your collarbones. 

“Y/N.” Your navel. 

“Y/N.” Over your clothed mound.  

He´ll never grow tired of saying your name.

A grin blooms on his lips when he catches the transparent spot on the crotch. His eyes glint with need, and you can't help but blush with embarrassment. 

“Don’t be shy.” His palms saunter over your inner thighs as he buries his nose in your wetness. “I’m so hard I don’t think I’ll last too long. And you´re the cause,” he mumbles, and takes a deep breath, your sweet arousal awakening his primal side and shutting down any trace of self-restraint. Damn, he wants to be inside you so bad, but he needs to try you first. He pushes your panties to the side, and shears with a finger the cord of slick that lingers between your skin and the lingerie. His length twitches. Shit, he’s going to blow out before any fun begins.  

But it’s your fault, you turn him into a madman without even trying.  

Your hips jiggle at the first lap of his tongue running between your folds, legs squirm, something coils within your core. Your eyes squeeze shut, face turned to the side, mouth drawing a beautiful O as he feasts in you, like a famished man savoring a copious meal after several days without taking a bite. 

His name falls of your mouth as his playful tongue and lips explore uncharted territory. He pulls away and strokes your swollen clit over the fabric, your hips rocking, seeking the delightful friction.  

“Don’t st- No!” 

He cruelly lets the knot in your belly unravel, all the bliss dwindling.  

“I’m sorry,” he coos, his fingers anchored at the hem of your underwear. You buck up your hips and he pulls down that meddlesome piece. Completely bared and unfurled for him. A piece of art worth for his private museum.    

He doesn’t waste time. He spreads open your folds with his thumbs, your enlarge glossy clit, longing for attention. And he listens to it. His lips seize it, his tongue laps and draws circles over it, pushing you to the edge. Your body writhes; your legs tense, your knuckles whiten as your hands clench in the sheets.  

“Levi! Fu- Ah!” You gasp at the finger plunging into you, but it’s not enough to appease your need and he knows it. He adds a second digit, prodding, scissoring, chasing after each other, stroking that spongy spot as he’s mouth works on your clit. Your eyes clamped shut tight, you feel meteors bursting behind them. It’s intense, fierce, the sizzling now boils within you until it erupts like a volcano, and for a few seconds, you’re swarmed by pure elation. 

Your chest rises and fall wildly, your breath whizzes out in staggered pants, and your face is sleek in sweat. Through the haze, you find Levi staring up at you, sweeping his tongue over his coated lips. You see it in his eyes, he can’t hold back anymore.  

In a second, he gets rid of his underwear, his cock springs freely, the throbbing tip whisking his lower belly, and a crisp line of black tuft that begins under his belly button, marches down to the base of his erection. He peels down the foreskin, and shit, he’s beautiful, big and thick, and your eager and nervous to have him.  

His hardness skims your belly as he kisses you, and you can taste yourself in his lips. Sweet and bitter. He inches back, and your eyes entangle, his hand smoldering your cheek. His voice is serious. “I’ll be gentle.” Kiss. “Let me know if it’s too much.” Kiss. “You know I fucking love you.” Kiss. “And the last thing I want is to hurt you.” Kiss.  

You nod, the back of your hand brushes his cheek with tenderness. “I love you too,” you croon, “and I trust you.”  

He guides himself, looking for your entrance, and you feel him poking. Panic rises. You close your eyes, and he rolls his hips forward, painfully slow, and your body puts resistance to the unfamiliar intrusion. Levi stills, watching every reaction on your face. Your body is all tense. His hand entwines with yours for reassurance and you squeeze. He squeezes back.  

“You have to relax,” he purrs, strands of black hair prick your forehead, his breath fanning over your neck. Beads of sweat trickle down his face. Your free hand claws on his shoulders, threatening to etched red marks. 

Tears peek at the corners of your eyes. You take a deep breath, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, and, with resolve, you buck your hips up in a howl of pain. Levi grunts and hisses at the tight warmth that envelops him; inch by inch, he sheathes himself into you. Hot blood dashes through his veins as he fights the urge to shove himself into you in a quick, single thrust. 

With a thumb, he sweeps away your tears. 

“Levi,” your voice is a quavering lament, your face contorted in pain as he breaches you, breath hitching; your walls blazing in sweet agony. And then your pelvises meet, and he stops and stills. Trembling, waiting for you to adapt.  

“You’re doing great.” He tugs down your lower lip, eyes droopy, leaden with love and lust. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He spews and captures your lips again. Your hand meander along the slope of his spine. Despite the waning pain, you know you’re a perfect fit. Made for each other.  

His face reels back, enough to take a glimpse of your face, to make sure you’re ok, tears dried, and a faint smile tugs at your lips.  

“You can move.” You say.  

He rakes his fingers through your hair, toying with your locks for a moment, before finding your hand again. He wants to reach your peaks with your hands weaved together. He drops his head to kiss you and only then, he begins to work himself in and out at a languid pace, relishing in your moist and the friction, taking his time because he doesn’t want to explode just yet. 

Your back arches as the pain gives way to pleasure; brimming, rolling heat. Your nails rake down, painting red lines on his back. Groans and moans rise in a dazzling melody. Your melody. His deep grunts getting in tune with your highest notes. 

Your name seeps out of his lips in jagged whispers, melting in your hair. His breathing quickens as his tempo rises, and your body tightens around him, driven over the edge, for the second time, by the rocking of his hips.  

Your hands squeeze each other as if they’d melt together. 

You coil, tighter and tighter, and then, jolts of pleasure break through you, seizing every inch of your body, and your orgasm wrenches his right after. He fills you with his seed and collapses over you, but doesn’t roll away. He stays, with an idiotic smile plastered on his face, and reaches out, sweeping a lock of hair from your cheek and tucking it behind your ear. He kisses you on the forehead, and your both let giggles rumble in your throats. His thumb fondles the back of your hand, drawing feeble circles, then brings it to his mouth and presses a kiss on top of the band.  

“Are you ok, Mrs. Ackerman?” He watches you watching him through eyes leaden with weariness, dozing. Yet, you pull out a smile. 

"[F/n]?" 

Your head rose slowly from your notes. You merely glanced at him and then went right back to reading. Well, at least you acknowledged his presence, right? 

It was just after seven – or eight, maybe (you weren't keeping track) – and Levi had just peered his head into where you were: his bedroom. Although, he had grown comfortable now calling it your shared bedroom. It was a cosy space, nice warm tones cast from the glowing, amber lamps on his bedside lockers. On his desk were two bundles of exams he had assigned recently and they sat stacked before his laptop. His workspace both at the university and at home were immaculate, though that was hardly a surprise. 

“Working hard, or hardly working?” he asks you. 

You just scoff in response, now crossing one leg over the other. He rests his briefcase down and loosens his tie – but doesn’t take it off – before setting his gaze on you. You’re just wearing your pyjamas or bed clothes: a loose, camisole and some frilly shorts. Comfortable clothes were key for studying. But, he didn’t like that you were on your back while studying. 

“Tch, [F/n]... I know you find it comfortable, but lying down whilst trying to study will just make you sleepy. Lying on a bed in particular totally defeats the purpose.” He reminds you. 

“Sorry, O Wisened One,” you mock, but then you squish the notes against your face, sighing heavily. He is sliding your shoes together into two neat pairs by his door when he hears your sigh and he pouts a bit upon seeing your crestfallen expression. You swore you heard him hum to himself, as if that comment pissed him off but he was just biting his tongue. You speak up: “I’m… just exhausted. It’s just– I don’t know. My brain is rejecting all information at this stage.”

Ah, reading week. Levi remembers this time a bit too well for his liking, all of the hours he poured into his exams and assignments. Sure, it all paid off in the end and he considered himself fortunate to be able to teach a subject he was so passionate about, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgotten the arduous journey it took to reach that point. 

If there were any benefits about lowkey dating your professor it would be that he was the most reliable person when it came to giving you tips. For appearances sake and in the interest of being fair – which you totally understood – he never gave you any tips on his tests. People were already having their suspicions anyway… But for your other modules, he never minded quizzing you, helping you study, buying you snacks – getting or doing anything you needed to make the process easier. 

And one of those things included allowing you to crash at his house every now and then. He didn’t mind at all; it meant not having to hide or pretend you didn’t exist. He could have you in any way you presented yourself to him; take you against the counter in the kitchen or in his bed, and not over the desk in his office. He could also wake up next to you and treat you as his girlfriend who he had come to genuinely care for, and not feel so filthy for getting with one of his students. He could take you on dates easier or order takeout as you both watch the most mindless documentaries. 

He had half a mind to ask you to officially move in with him, but he doesn’t know how you’d feel moving in with a man who is both ten years your senior and your professor for the next two years. 

He goes to shrug off his waistcoat when he hears you groan again. This time, however, there’s a bit of a whine to it too. He walks over to the bed and sits on it, observing the notepad that was now acting as a canopy for the light in the room. 

“Tired, sweetheart?” he asks, though he knows the answer. You give an ‘mm-hmm’ and move to stretch your arms. “Stressed?” he presses further, now removing his tie. You nod, and you hate to admit it but it was very easy for your eyes to well with tears when you were overwhelmed with your studies. 

Ah, but Levi can make it all better. 

God, fuck you for wearing those damn frilly pajamas and lying on his bed so innocently. Yes, innocently, because he was attracted to you in every conceivable way. It didn’t matter what you did, or how you dressed; he was always craving you. 

When he was teaching a very disengaged class who were on their phones the whole time or clearly not paying attention, it was like his mind would automatically jump to thinking of you to pass the time. What he’d get you to do for him that night, or perhaps what you’d even treat him to. What position he’d put you in, which one of his vibrators or plugs would he use on you…

Yeah, Levi could definitely make it all better.

“I’m sorry, darling…” he whispers, swinging a leg over yours and straddling you there. You quickly blink your tears away. “You’re working so hard…” he breathes into your neck whilst reaching for your wrists, “...and I haven’t been properly tending to your needs.” 

Your wrists are enclosed in his larger hands and quickly – and expertly – bound by his grey tie. Your eyes are as wide as plates but you’re quickly trying to suppress a grin. He lifts up your sheer cami that did nothing to hide your pebbled nipples at his electric touch. Oh, how he loves it when you don’t wear a bra. 

He’s always so soft and gentle at first. The bump of his nose trails around your navel, his lips leaving kisses in its wake. He takes his time worshipping every inch of you with open-mouth and hot kisses. He moves up to drag the flat of his tongue up and down the columns of your neck and across your collarbones, blowing a cheeky puff of air against them to make you shiver. He smirks. 

Cute, he thinks as he goes to press kisses down the valley of your breasts. When he takes a hardened nipple into his mouth, you begin squirming more. It already was torturous not being able to touch him back. 

He just couldn’t help it – when it came to you, he wanted to do everything. 

As you softly mewl his name, he feels his cock strain against his briefs. He moves to fiddle with the button on his slacks, desperate for some relief. It is a little awkward to palm himself while his mouth is occupied with one nipple while his other hand is busy with the other. But his body acts quicker than he’d like and he’s suddenly grinding against the bunched up duvet beneath you, his cock pulsating. It’s entirely unintentional and he does his damn best to not cum until you have. You need to first, this is all about you. 

“Please… please, Levi– Sir… Please, I need you to touch me–” Fuck, that did it. He can’t help it now as he slowly ruts against the quilt and it’s a constant motion after that. You smile ear to ear at this, happy he’s not denying himself of this pleasurable experience. “You like it when I moan for you, professor?” 

“Shit…” he curses under his breath. 

No, he has a façade to keep up. 

He needs to continue pleasing you otherwise he’d be cumming in his pants before the main event. Which has happened a few times already. 

The chaste kisses and nips down your torso continue until he is finally between your legs. With a firm grip on your inner thighs, he spreads your legs apart and he briefly leans down to kiss just next to your cunt. He pulls away to thumb over the faint marks that have faded over time. 

“Love those,” he comments and he pulls back to slide your shorts and panties down your legs. “Hmm, I should use my tie more often. You’re so well behaved tonight.” You don’t see this as permission to be able to touch him – or being allowed to touch yourself either. “Turn around.” 

You huff, but obey. He offers his praise and removes the tie binding your wrists. Thumbs smoothing over them for a second, he orders you to keep them on your back. Gentle he presses on the small of your back, allowing your back to fall into an arch. Perfect position.

He swallows thickly at the way your cunt is squished against your thighs. Licking his middle and index finger, he finally – finally – gives you what you want and touches you through your sopping folds. His touches are so light and teasing – it’s not enough, not nearly enough. The wet sounds of his fingers caressing you through your folds are most certainly audible and you nearly feel embarrassed.

“Got that wet from me just kissing you down your body? How cute.” 

He leans in to kiss at your pussy and you twitch against his mouth, aching for more. But as soon as his tongue meets your pussy, he’s gone. 

“Levi, what are you– oh, god–” you moan out as his tongue swipes at your other entrance. Your cute little cries and tiny gasps surely are a sign for him to keep going. You turn your head to the side and look at him and your jaw drops. He’s sucking on his own fingers and when he takes them out again there is an audible pop. Your puckered hole twitches some more as he runs the pads of his sinewy fingers over it. “That’s– Oh, fuck, Levi!”

Doubt suddenly plants itself in his mind. “Wait, do you need me to stop?”

You two had discussed in passing on teasing here, but that boundary of sorts was never passed. Not until now. He nearly feels bad for not asking you beforehand. 

You frantically shake your head. “N-No, please don’t–” 

Once more, his fingers are back to teasing. “That’s good. You’ve been working so hard lately, making me so proud. I intend to spoil you tonight until you’re cumming repeatedly,” he replies. He leans down to lick again. “You’re such a good girl, you know that?” His cockhead is leaking so much precum now. He doesn’t even need to see it to know that to be true; he feels truly high just by touching your body and eating you out. “What are you to me?”

“I– I’m y-your good girl–! Fuck, fuck, Levi, shit–”

His lithe fingers move to rub soft circles at your clit before returning to your puckering hole. He moans against your entrance when he feels just how much you are dripping for him. Inadvertently, you attempt to keep his hand on your clit in place but it is quickly pinned onto your ass again and the touching there from him stops. With one hand now free, he palms himself through his opened slacks and through his briefs. 

God, he’s fucked you countless times already but never here. With how tight you are naturally around him sometimes, he can’t imagine how tight your ass would. He groans once more as he fishes his hand through his briefs and he’s stroking his thick cock. His hand is no comparison to your gummy walls that suck him in and milk him for all he’s worth. But it certainly wouldn’t be impossible for him to cum just from touching himself as he teases you with his tongue.

A few minutes of him pass by of him just poking and prodding at your entrance before he’s up on his knees. 

“Turn around,” he orders, opening the door to his bedside locker and you’re back to where you started the night. This time without your notebook in hand but one of his small bullet vibrators that he purchased for you. “Lowest setting.”

Your chest heaves, aching for relief. “No, higher than that, Levi, come on–”

“Lowest setting or you can put the vibrator back and I’ll edge you to tears with just my tongue at your ass.” He warns. 

You whimper a small bit, but knowing how ruthless your professor could be at edging, you obey. You place the vibe at your hardened clit and even at the lowest setting, you can still hear the squelching sound of your wet pussy. You grind your hips against it, aching for more friction as Levi returns. It is so hard to ignore the sounds amplified by the vibrator though. 

“Do you hear how wet you are? Do you hear how noisy this cunt is?” 

You feel the familiar knot in your belly tighten and it’s fast approaching. “You– You’re being mean… I just wanna cum…” 

He tuts into your ear when he comes up. “I’m not being mean,” he denies, but when he catches your gaze and sees how your eyes are welling with tears more from the sheer intensity and pleasure he’s made you feel, he tones the mean-ish façade down a notch. “Do you think you can last a little longer for me, sweetheart?”

He turns the vibrator off momentarily to hear your response. 

His question sounded like a tease of whether you could keep up, but he was also genuinely asking for your consent to continue. He got so absorbed in this that he wasn’t checking in that much. He was so whooped and so lost in trying to make you feel good that he wasn’t even considering how you felt.

You gulp, “Just– I need–”

He nods. “It’s okay, take a breath. Take your time.”

Soft kisses are planted along your inner thighs as you try to compose yourself, catching your breath. His fingers are brushing over any marks he’s left along the way. His thumbs draw little circles into your hips; this was always something he did to help ground you. 

Shit, what was happening before all this? Were you trying to study or something? Yikes.

Your fingers begin combing through his black tresses as a silent way of saying you’re okay to continue. Still, he wants to be sure. 

“Think you can go on?” You nod. “That’s my girl, don’t worry. You’re doing so well for me.”

There’s not much speaking after that. It’s damn near impossible to stay quiet as the coil in your tummy tightens and tightens. It’s not like this was your student dorm though where you had to be quiet; Levi lived by himself in an apartment complex with thick walls. Your cries are laden with frustration as you’re so, so close – so close to falling off the edge–

He’s unable to control the grinding of his hips now. Rutting desperately, imagining it’s your cunt even though it’s so far off from being anything close to it. He wants to be inside you, shit, he needs to be inside you–

Your body arcs and your hand comes down to hold Levi in place and he’s truly unable to suppress the groan as he soils his pants. Your chest is heaving, forehead beading sweat and pupils blown as your clit continues to throb and pulsate. You’re seeing stars from this orgasm, a warm, fuzzy heat spreading throughout your body. His mouth moves to place a few kisses around your throbbing cunt until your hips jerk away from him. 

Aftercare consists of him fetching you a glass of water from the jug that is now routinely kept full in his bedroom for any future midnight escapades. He kisses life back into your limbs and one to your forehead before wiping you down with a damp cloth. 

A hand moves to cradle your jaw as he asks, “Oi, where’s that head of yours at?”

“Not…” you pause, panting too much to say anything remotely coherent, “...not in my studies.”

kinda wanna do a series of professor!levi drabbles (smut and fluff... and angst) sorry let me live my life as i ride the professor!levi train. all aboard~

He's definitely the cool, calm, collected professor. Known as a great educator, but a tough marker on projects and exams. Some people are very quick to call him a prick, an asshole… And sure, we all don't like a professor stingy with marks, but some people realize it's for the marks. He's always looking to give marks, never to punish and take away.

His face is naturally one of a scowl, but it's nothing personal. He's just getting older, more caffeine-dependent and is thinking of a career break on the down low. Perhaps he might do some more research, or write another paper. He's a bit tired of teaching; again, nothing personal.

He tends to take the (mandatory) advanced classes of harmony. All of you patter into the class, taking the first row. It's not a class that can be understood by snoozing in the back row.

You notice his fashion sense at first; the man is very well dressed. Not too formal, but not too casual. That isn’t to say he’s opposed to wearing a formal suit with matching leather shoes and belt that would make your jaw drop. But more often than not? Simple navy button down with a tie that has been loosened throughout the day and dark slacks. Of course, the sleeves are rolled back exposing his forearms. It’s not something he initially does on purpose, it’s a comfort thing. He hates the sleeves getting scrunched at his wrists. But the forearms… so lovely and toned, veiny and you can see the muscles over years of playing piano and perhaps working out too. Once the sleeves are rolled up, it’s harder and harder for you to concentrate.

The ministrations and the most subtle of flirting start small. You knew damn well how - despite it being legal - you could both get into trouble should anything arise from it, but you assumed he’d reject all your advances anyway, so it didn’t matter too much… right? So, you began to toe the line very slowly and steadily.

It started off by working a bit harder in his harmony class. You had always been good, but never top student standard. Enough for him to say “good work” when he corrected your homework at the piano, but there’d always be a few mistakes. So you figured to yourself: should you use these mistakes to your advantage by getting a bit of extra help? Or should you work harder to perfect your exercises so that he notices you trying hard and get his attention that way?

Both, both are good.

It’s a slow, meticulous and methodical process to flirt with your professor. Initially, some of your advances go unnoticed. But you continued to work hard until - uh-oh! - you didn’t do so well on an assignment. “See me after class, in my office.” He tells you and his tone is crisp and cold like the wintery air you had just escaped from outside.

His office away from the classroom with the grand piano he normally teaches in is definitely smaller, but cozier. He has a diffuser with ylang ylang oil billowing into the air and a cup of black tea on his desk. He has a blackboard in his room as he works out chord progressions and other musical questions, and the blackboard is covered. He is washing his hands from the chalk when you knock on his door. You come in and he’s drying his hands. His office is very clean, which is what you note instantly. To the left as you walk through, there is a black leather sofa with two plush cushions, and to the right is his desk.

You’re grateful that you wore something nice when seeing him because, one: he’s dressed pretty nicely himself and two: the dress was simply perfect. Just a floral dress that showed enough of your lovely legs, and it was tight enough too; not tight to the point it might be considered ‘inappropriate’ but it still left plenty to the imagination. And Levi was imaging alright, with every passing glance he made in your direction when your eyes were buried in your homework.

What ends up happening is a two hour tutor session, which neither of you intended but it was enjoyable nevertheless. Staring at each other with bitten lips to hold back anything you two might regret saying.

Soon, his own advances began.

Sometimes, Jean would playfully flirt with you in class and you’d just shrug it off; you knew he was always joking. The fair-haired man went ramrod stiff and straight, teeth suddenly chattering when your professor came out with, “I don’t think Miss. [L/n] appreciates that, Kirschtein.” The man suddenly had the urge to protect you and not have any guy flirt with you… or at the very least, the thought of any guy taking up your attention just made him cringe. He thought all these men were just brats. But he knew you had eyes for him - even if in just a lustful way - so he grinned and beared it. Gave a verbal warning if the guys were getting on his last words, but that was it. Besides, this warning was always given under the guise of him being ‘distracted from his teachings.’

The one-to-one tutoring sessions became a bit more regular. The subtle teasing continues when it all comes to a peak when you ‘accidentally’ drop a pencil. You’re wearing a low-ish cut top and you bend down in front of him and he sees the jiggle and movement of your breasts as your fingers crawl towards the pencil that was rolling under his desk. And that… is when the coil snapped.

You’re laying on top of his desk and he’s pushed the books to the floor. So messy, you think for a professor who is so clean and tidy. His lithe, sinewy fingers are walking up your beautiful legs, silver eyes flitting between the space between your legs and your captivating eyes of [e/c]. His lips press to the pulse point on your neck, and he’s planting open mouthed kisses all over to help you settle. He’s gentle, though (for now?) and always asking and checking in. He has to look behind him to make sure he has locked the door before he absolutely rocks your world with his fingers.

“Have the hots for your professor, hmm?” he whispers, huskily. The baritone of his voice is probably the hottest thing you have heard in an age. “I didn’t think…” he began, pausing to sink his fingers in between your sopping folds, “...you’d be so naughty, [f/n]...” he finishes, and his thumb has found your hardened bud and his massaging it in consistent circles.

His other hand’s thumb has slotted itself in your mouth and after his instruction to “suck”, your wet muscle wraps around his thumb giving him a show. He chuckles darkly and he leans to kiss your forehead.

“Now…” he instructs, sinking his fingers into your weeping hole. Your eyes have been screwed shut up til now, letting out choked moans and whimpers as his fingers gave you more pleasure than you have ever given yourself, or any man (or woman) before this, “look at the blackboard, and tell me what’s the next answer.”

“W-What…?” you ask for clarification before letting out a guttural moan when he hits your sweet spot. The squelching sounds of your cunt make you feel almost dizzy with want. Gosh, had he made you this wet already.

“You’ll answer my question, or I’ll stop…” he warns.

You throw your head back in irritation. Surely he wouldn’t… right? “Come on, Levi, you wouldn’t be so terrible.”

Jinx! His fingers left you warm, tight hole and the sight before you has you clenching and reading out for his fingers; he’s licking his fingers clean of your juices and letting out a few grunts and moans of his own, commenting on “how damn good you taste” and how he “can’t get enough.” His fingers return to where they were, but his movements are painstakingly slow now and you’re whining.

“Don’t be such a goddamn brat,” he growls in your ear, “just answer the question and I’ll give you everything you need right now.” And he teases, and teases, edging you on and on, and on and on until you scream out his name followed by the answer. “That’s a good fucking girl…” he whispers.

His fingers assault that special spot inside you again, getting lost in the sound of your wet pussy. It was addicting, and it was an obsession he never wanted to recover from. Your orgasm washed over you and your body seizes with pleasure as your arousal squirts onto the desk. He leans down, opening his mouth trying to catch all the droplets of your orgasm, before licking a stripe up your slit to your clit, his tongue carrying through the rest of your orgasm and into the depths of overstimulation.

He takes the dust cloth he had on his desk and he’s flipping you over again onto your tummy for more. He has months of sexual tension and teasing to let out and he fucks into you, the desk rattling and squeaks against the floor. When he decides it makes too much noise, he sits down on his chair and begs you to get on top. You begin to grind your cunt against his thick cock and tease his ear with a few peppery kisses.

“N-Never though– shit– that I’d see you in this position, Pr-Professor…” you choked out, and began to grind down even harder. You snapped your hips, rolling them a tad faster and that has your professor throwing his head back and letting out the richest moan. It’s unabashed, free - the moans tumbling from his lips as you dominate him - and he suddenly doesn’t care about the university’s admin, or the caretaker who routinely checks his office by now who is probably wondering what these noises are for.

“You look pretty when I ride you, Professor…” you slurred, drunk on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out, against your gummy walls. He lets out a groan and one hand goes to unbutton your top, and he takes a pebbled nipple in his mouth, teething coming around and letting the flat of his tongue smooth over it.

It isn’t long before he’s spilling inside you, painting your velvety walls white (because god forbid he gets his chair dirty) with thick ropes of his cum and he assists you onto his desk again, noting that your legs are too wobbly to stand. He takes a few tissues and cleans up your dripping entrance. But your heart warms at the gesture because as he’s cleaning you up, he’s kissing your forehead, your neck, your breasts, and he does this so softly as if he didn’t just make you both cum your brains out. He’s whispering praises too, and for a second, you don’t feel like a student who has a crush on her professor, but as someone he has come to care for too.

(“Took me so well…” or, “You felt amazing…”)

He goes to the clear-blue water dispenser in the other corner of his office and hands you a plastic cup of ice-cold water.

“I can’t do much to… take care of you in this setting… But can I do anything for you now?”

It was the bare minimum of him - or any person you have sex with - to ask, but sometimes it doesn’t happen. But given how much he seemed to care about the “coming down” of this ordeal, you felt so content and warm and safe.

“I hope, at least for my own sake, you need more tutoring in the future…”

–

(some extra headcanons, perhaps?)

Maybe after a few “tutoring sessions”, you and Levi become official. You move out of the dump of your student dorms and into his apartment a few months into dating. Dating your professor does have its perks, he helps you study. But if there is one thing you can admire about Levi the most since you started dating him, it’s his ability to remain unbiased towards you in class still. While you are his favourite, he won’t show you favouritism, nor will he give you extra credit or bump you up a few marks. He still expects you to work, the way you always have. He knows of your abilities anyway

Doesn’t mean he doesn't reward you by eating you out after you study for a few hours straight as a reward

Also the nicest person ever in exam season. He’s been a student before and been through years of education. He knew what he needed from his potential S/O during exam season, so whatever he didn’t get, he gives to you. So if you’re at the kitchen table, he drapes a blanket around you and you get all soft, but he says, “I just can’t look at you being all pathetic while you shiver.” (It’s him taking care of you I swear.) Or he might fill up your tea/coffee, or make you dinner.

Dating your professor is watching you sternly give out to him in the middle of class when he gives the class too much to do over the weekend (the rest of the class not knowing your romantic situation and just thinking you have grown a pair) and him have a mature discussion with you at home about how he can be a better educator, because he knows you have other modules too.

It’s him letting you nestle on his cock and telling you how proud of you he is, of both your academic achievements but also who you are as a person

Sex with Levi was more often than not wonderful and thorough. He was a giver and he loved to give, and he loved to please. The man would quite happily get off on watching you orgasm on his fingers and tongue, rutting his hips into the mattress at the sight. You were always so ready for him when it came to penetration; your walls would hug him so tightly and he’d feel so snug. The pleasure you have been able to give him is enough to make him forget of the horrors outside.

It doesn’t mean it was always perfect though.

It could have been one of the nights when perhaps Levi took his role as Captain too far in the bedroom whenever he wanted his title to be used, or perhaps it was just a night where you weren’t fully there, for one reason or another. But as he exhaled a shuddery breath into the crook of your neck, you clawed at his back. Either to ground yourself, or to get his attention that you didn’t feel right. You didn’t feel bad, but you didn’t feel good either.

You felt rather empty and almost… sad?

Levi is a very attentive lover, in and out of the bedroom. This occurrence was no exception.

He’d react and be very aware of a shift in your mood. It’s why sex was so awkward between the two of you at first - he checked in a bit too much with how you were feeling (which you appreciated nevertheless) - but eventually was so wonderful because you always felt extremely safe compared to past partners to say if something didn’t feel pleasurable, or if it hurt, or if you wanted to try something else.

He was always so accommodating, also.

So, it’s no surprise when he sees this sort of look in your eyes. You’re staring up at the ceiling and he sees your eyes gloss over. You become rigidly still before your body begins to seize up minutely every now and then. He takes you into his arms before anything can happen.

If sex has left you feeling anything that isn’t relieved, satiated, content or safe, he takes it upon him to fix it however he can.

“Hey, hey…what is it?” he whispers softly. The room is dark and still like the thickest of fogs that is murky and difficult to see through. His voice doesn’t echo the way it normally does. Not that he’s extremely vocal in the bedroom, but you’d be able to hear what had just transpired if you had pressed your ear up against the door. Right now, his voice is for you and you alone.

You don’t answer, so he tries again. This time, he has his thumb and index finger pinching your chin so that you look at him.

“Nod if you can hear me.” He commands, softly.

You nod, and your body seizes up again, curling in on itself in shame, fear (perhaps?) and uncertainty. Much like a frightened cub being stalked for its prey, you’ve landed in a vulnerable position and you don’t quite know how or why this is happening.

Levi seems to know what is happening though. He remembers seeing his mother looking totally shell shocked after a client and how sometimes, she’d totally freeze up on him when he was pestering her for something and at the time he didn’t understand. But he was familiar with this look. He needed to approach you gently.

“Just move your head to answer me, yeah?” he asks. A hand has now taken to running your hair through his fingers. Any stray hairs that might be sticking out, he is putting back in place.

Levi normally cleans up straight away after sex, not liking to lie in his own fluids, sweat and filth. But he was realistic too, like now. He knew sometimes he had to wait. He would take all the time you needed right now to recover, for this time and every other time after this.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“Did I seem forceful in any way?”

You shake your head, again.

“Did you not want to do this initially, but you tried to convince yourself into being intimate with me?”

You shake your head, for the final time. You sigh and you bury yourself deeper into the embrace, as if it was possible to search for more comfort from his chest. But as your head is high in the clouds, unable to come down, you do hear his heartbeat.

Bad-dum, bad-dum, bad-dum… Seems his heart is still racing after the throes of your shared passion.

He speaks again, wanting to rectify whatever it is is causing you to feel this way. He thinks he understands, though. He’s sat through biology lessons (forced lectures) by Hange who taught (forcefully lectured) him on biology when they were conducting experiments on Eren. Your body is taking a little longer than normal to come to terms with what had happened.

But it seemed to be a first with you.

“W-Why am I getting tearful over this, levi...? I--"

“Hush," he speaks in a low tone. He pulls you in even closer, impossibly closer. "Please don't feel bad."

You claw at his chest once more as the tears finally spill and trickle down your cheeks, fingers trying to dig in to find something. anything. you don't know what you feel right now. It feels like everything. It feels like nothing. you feel so full, and so empty. He reaches for your hand and laces it with yours, fingers interlocking. A kiss is placed on your hand where your palms are sealed.

“It's all okay now. It's over.”

He’s kissing the top of your head where your hair is damp and sweaty, tousled. He lets his hands wander up and down your body, trying to bring you back down to Earth.

“I’m here… Feel my heart? It’s beating, I'm alive. You’re alive. And I’m right here,” he assures. “You’re safe, with me. Always.”

He does whatever is available to try to comfort you, anything you’d like or need. Food, tea, a bath, silence. More cuddles? He’s on top of it. Leave it all to him. He’s softer than he lets on, and he’ll handle you like fine china, in and out of the bedroom.

Levi’s reassurance would come in small gestures for most people, but he’d always try to give you the world

“Bath?” he offers. It makes you giggle, his one-worded question. He sees giggling as a sign of you coming down again. He still waits for you to answer him properly though.

“Yes, please.”

He gets up out of bed first - he always does - and he steps to your side of the bed. (He won’t say it now, but he is relieved to be out of the dirty, tangled sheets.) He guides you to the ensuite where the bath is, hands interlaced with yours, ready to take care of you.