ackermanrage

[ackermanrage]

ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ!ʟᴇᴠɪ…

How he keeps his distance, not because he doesn’t want to be close to you, but because he wants it too much. He’d rather ache quietly than risk ruining the fragile comfort he gets just from being near you. Sitting beside you during meetings, walking a step behind you on missions. These small things are his luxuries, and he treats them like they might be taken away at any moment.

Yearning!Levi who listens more than he speaks, memorizing the way your voice softens when you talk to animals, how you hum while organizing papers, the exact rhythm of your footsteps in the hallway. He doesn’t say much in return, but he always has something for you, your favorite tea mixed just how you like it, your missing necklace placed neatly on your desk, a blanket draped over your shoulders when you fall asleep on duty.

Yearning!Levi who hesitates before knocking on your door. Fingers raised, hovering mid-air, heart pounding like it’s trying to claw its way out of his ribs. Sometimes he walks away. Sometimes he knocks and pretends he was just passing by. But every time, it’s because he wants so badly to be invited in, not just into your room, but into your world.

Yearning!Levi who sees you laughing with someone else and feels something cold settle in his chest. Not jealousy, he would never claim ownership over you, but grief. The kind that comes with realizing just how much of you he’s not allowed to have.

Because if all he gets is this, just watching you be happy, just lingering in the same spaces, you can bet he’ll bear it with the same strength he brings to every battle.

But god, does he yearn.

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

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

[ackermanrage]

ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴊᴇʀᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴏꜰꜰ?

Levi lies back against the pillows, skin warm beneath your fingertips, hair still damp from his shower and falling messily across his forehead.

You’re sitting close, your body leaned over his. Your hands wander slowly across his chest, memorizing every dip, every scar, every quiet tremble of his muscles. He watches you with half-lidded eyes, his lips parted just slightly, like he wants to say something but can’t bring himself to at the moment.

Your fingers drift lower, just above the waistband of his sweats, where the fabric sits dangerously low. His breath stutters. You feel the weight of his need there, heavy and waiting beneath the cotton, and when you curl your fingers beneath the band, he doesn’t stop you.

Just lifts his hips, barely, subtly, so you can slide your hand in.

He’s already hard. Warm, twitching in your palm, growing fast at just the brush of your fingers. You wrap around him gently, slow, letting your touch linger at the base before stroking upward. He lets out a breath through gritted teeth, like he’s trying not to let the sound escape.

Your voice is low, teasing, fond. “Sensitive today?”

His eyes flick to yours, sharp and dark and burning. “You’re doing it slow on purpose.”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, stroking him again, a little firmer this time.

He hisses softly through his teeth, his hips twitching up into your hand. You keep your pace steady, the slide of your palm slick with precum now, each stroke earning the tiniest grunt or catch of breath. His cock throbs in your grip, thick and flushed and perfect, and he’s letting you touch him.

Your free hand drifts up to his chest again, feeling the way his heart is racing. You lean down, kissing the space beneath his ear as you stroke him slow and sweet and deliberate.

“You always act so in control,” you whisper, lips brushing his skin. “But right now...you’re all mine.”

He growls, low in his throat. “Don’t stop.”

You don’t. Not until he’s gasping your name through clenched teeth, hips stuttering, coming hot into your hand and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

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

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

[ackermanrage]

Hello! Just wanted to pop in and say I absolutely love your writing and how accurate Levi is written. I also cannot for the love of me tell you how invested I am in the janitor and teacher fic, and I (again lol) cannot wait to see more of that! Good job!

Aww thank you so much <333 that seriously means a lot i’ve been having so much fun writing the janitor x professor AU, and knowing you're invested just makes it even more worth it. More updates are definitely coming, so thank you for sticking around LOVE YOU MWAH <3

[ackermanrage]

Hello there!! It's my first time requesting here^^ How about a jealous Levi?? Because hange flirts with the reader to tease and have a revenge to Levi because she lost a bet (Fluff)

ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴇ, ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ

levi ackerman x fem!reader warnings: none :) an: HAHAHA levi would totally be mad if hange ever flirted with reader, hes just possessive like that.

A bet between Levi and Hange that spiraled out of boredom, pettiness, and too many late nights doing paperwork.

“Come on, shortstack,” Hange had grinned, arms crossed and eyes alight with mischief. “We both know I could finish this stack faster and still write my name neater.”

Levi narrowed his eyes, offended to his core. “Your handwriting looks like a dying chicken broke loose on the page.”

“Okay, rude,” they huffed. “All I’m hearing is ‘I’m scared of losing.’”

“You want to race?”

They blinked. “...Wait, are you serious?”

“Moblit can time it,” he said, already moving. “You finish your pile. I finish mine. Loser takes the other’s stable duty for a week.”

“And?”

“And…”

That’s when you walked into the room, notepad in hand, completely unaware of what you were walking into.

Hange’s eyes lit up like they just remembered something very useful.

“And the loser has to annoy the winner in the most ridiculous way possible. But not just any annoying. Annoying enough to make them regret winning.”

Levi looked you over. His eyes softened briefly before flicking back to Hange with suspicion. “You already have a plan.”

“Maybe,” they sing-songed. “Deal or not?”

Levi shrugged. “Fine. Don’t cry when I win.”

You stood there, confused, as they slammed down papers and started writing like maniacs while Moblit acted as an impartial judge.

---

The Next Day

The morning started off normal enough, quiet halls, hot tea, and Levi unusually in a good mood after winning a stupid bet against Hange the night before. You didn’t know the details, but apparently it involved some bet over paperwork efficiency.

So when Hange showed up at the mess hall with a sparkle of vengeance in her glasses and a suspiciously sweet tone, you should’ve known something was up.

"Good morning, gorgeous~" they sang, sliding onto the bench beside you. Practically leaned their whole body into yours, dramatic and grinning.

You blinked. "...Me?"

"Of course you, sweetheart," they cooed. “Looking absolutely radiant today. What’s your secret? New shampoo? Or are you just glowing?”

“What are you doing,” you asked slowly.

“Being charming,” they grinned. “Also, revenge.”

"...What?"

Levi, who had just stepped into the room holding two mugs of tea, one for him and one for you, paused mid-step. His eyes narrowed instantly.

You barely managed to hold back a snort as Hange turned the charm up to maximum. They tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear with exaggerated care. “We should train together later. Or not train. We could just... talk about life. Or stargaze. Or I could stare into your beautiful—”

Hange leaned in dramatically, voice dropping a full octave. “You know, if I weren’t such a loyal friend, I’d steal you right out from under Levi’s nose.”

"Hange." Levi’s voice was sharp, flat, and completely unimpressed.

“Oh, look who it is~” Hange cooed without looking. “The winner of our little bet. Jealous yet?”

He approached slowly, set the mug in front of you, and eyed them like they were a fly that just landed in his cup. “You lost. This isn’t part of the deal.”

“Oh, but it is,” Hange giggled, tossing their arm around your shoulders. “Loser’s punishment was to be annoying, remember? I'm just doing my job. Plus—" she looked at you with faux adoration, “—you’re a very fun way to be annoying.”

Levi’s glare could have cut diamonds. “Stop touching her.”

“I haven’t even started yet,” Hange chirped, "She smells good, doesn’t she? Like vanilla and danger.”

Your entire face heated. “Okay, Hange—”

“No,” Levi said flatly, sliding onto the bench beside you with all the grace of a predator reclaiming territory. “That’s enough.”

“Ohhhh,” Hange drawled, barely containing their glee. “Is Captain Levi jealous? Is he going to pout?”

Levi’s jaw flexed.

“Hange,” you said with a grin, clearly enjoying yourself now, “you sure you want to be starting wars you can’t win?”

“Sweetheart, I already won. Look at his face.”

Levi leaned closer to you, eyes still fixed on them, and placed a deliberate hand on your knee under the table. You felt your breath catch.

He still didn’t say much. Just calmly lifted his tea and muttered under his breath, “Touch her again and you’ll be on cleaning duty for a month.”

Hange blinked. “Oho. So this is what it takes to rattle him. Fascinating.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “You’re really going all out, huh?”

“Petty bets require petty revenge,” they declared proudly, hopping up. “Mission accomplished. Have fun with your sulky boyfriend~!”

“Get out,” Levi called after them as they skipped away, cackling to themselves.

Once Hange was gone, you turned to him with a teasing smile. “Sooo…you’re not jealous, right?”

He sipped his tea. “I’m not jealous.”

“You’re sulking.”

“I’m not sulking. I just don’t like when someone touches what’s mine.”

That made your heart flip. “Yours, huh?”

He turned his head slightly, eyes soft but burning. “You already know that.”

You leaned into him, teasing. “Mmm, say it again.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll start giggling like an idiot and tell Hange I got all flustered.”

You beamed. “So you are flustered.”

He glared at you, deadpan. “Do you want your tea or not?”

You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Captain. For the tea and the jealousy.”

He froze at the kiss — ears just barely turning pink — before finally muttering, “Next time she tries that, I’ll kill her.”

“Gotta catch her first.” you laughed.

“I will.” levi said with a slight scowl.

“You’re lucky I like possessive men,” you whispered.

“And you’re lucky I don’t kill people over dumb bets.”

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

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

[ackermanrage]

i loved your fanfic of Levi with the lipstick marks on his face! can I request a version of that fluff for gojo x fem!reader? i’m sure his students would have a lot to say hehe

ʟɪᴘꜱᴛɪᴄᴋ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ

gojo satoru x fem!reader warnings: none :) an: your wish is my command~ i hope you like it!

The morning sun hadn’t even finished climbing over the skyline, and yet Gojo Satoru was already up and looking...presentable.

Standing in front of your shared bathroom mirror, he tilted his head left and right, admiring himself from all angles while trying (poorly) to straighten his blindfold.

“You know,” you said, leaning in the doorway with your arms crossed, “for someone who claims he doesn’t care what people think, you spend an awful lot of time doing your hair.”

Gojo grinned through the mirror. “I’m a man of contradictions.”

“You realize your blindfold is inside out, right?”

“…No it’s not.”

“It is. The tag’s sticking out.”

“Fashion is subjective,” he mumbled, fumbling to fix it while pretending he meant to do that.

You stepped forward, tugging his collar back into place. “You’re a man of chaos.”

He leaned in instantly, lips brushing your cheek. “A sexy, lovable chaos.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Debatable.”

He gasped. “Cruel.”

“I’m making sure you don’t show up to work looking like a tornado.” You flicked some lint off his jacket.

You stepped in, arms wrapping around his neck as you leaned your chin on his shoulder. “You’ve got the first years today, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Good luck. They were already chaotic before they got mentored by you.”

Gojo grinned. “They’re thriving under my guidance.”

“They’re feral.”

He turned slightly to face you. “You love me anyway.”

“Mhm. Do I?”

“Rude,” he pouted.

You kissed him softly on the cheek in apology. “Better?”

“You missed,” he said, tilting his head like he was telling you where to kiss him.

You kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Still missed.”

You trailed kisses down his jawline, then one just under his ear.

“Okay, okay,” Gojo laughed, flustered but not stopping you. “You’re clingier than usual—what are you trying to do?”

“Nothingggg,” you hummed, carefully planting another kiss just under his jawline, leaving behind a perfect, unmistakable lipstick print. “Just giving you a proper goodbye.”

“Sure,” he said, suspicious. “You never act this affectionate without a reason.”

You rolled your eyes, “There. Properly blessed. Now go teach those unhinged teenagers before they accidentally curse the vending machine again.”

Gojo adjusted his collar with a satisfied little hum, completely oblivious to the bouquet of lipstick marks you’d left all over his ridiculously kissable skin.

You gave him one last, feather-light kiss at the corner of his mouth and patted his chest. “Goodbye, Satoru.”

He adjusted his blindfold again, grabbed a stick of gum, and strolled out the door.

And he didn’t check the mirror again before he left.

Big mistake.

---

Yuji was mid-doughnut when he saw it.

He squinted, chewed slowly, then elbowed Megumi so hard he nearly dropped his coffee.

Yuji pointed, wide-eyed. “Look. Look at his face.”

Nobara turned, eyes narrowing as Gojo approached them with his usual swagger. “What about his—OH MY GOD.”

“I see it now,” Megumi muttered, horrified.

Gojo was gliding across the courtyard with all the effortless grace of a man untouched by stress, shame, or common sense. His jacket puffed dramatically. His blindfold was, miraculously, right-side out. His smile was bright.

And his face?

Covered in lipstick.

“Dude,” Yuji whispered. “Is that—?”

“Lipstick,” Nobara confirmed. “That’s lipstick. That’s three separate kiss marks.”

Gojo stopped in front of them, hands in his pockets, grinning like a man without a care in the world. “Morning, my adorable little demons!”

“Uh,” Yuji said. “Morning?”

Megumi refused to look him in the eye. “Do you—uh, do you know… you’ve got something on your face?”

Gojo raised a brow under the blindfold. “I always have something on my face, Fushiguro. It’s called beauty.”

“Not that,” Nobara said slowly. “Something else. Like… left by someone else.”

Megumi just sighed, “Do you not own a mirror?”

Gojo tilted his head. “I do. I just don’t worship at it.”

“Okay, Gandhi,” Nobara said. “You’ve got a full crime scene on your face.”

Gojo blinked. “Pardon?”

Nobara whipped out her phone and held up the selfie cam. “Behold.”

Gojo leaned in.

Then paused.

Then leaned back very slowly, and shrugged.

“Nice.”

“Nice?!” Megumi snapped. “You’re teaching a class looking like you just walked out of a romantic comedy!”

“I’m making history,” Gojo said. “This is what peak performance looks like.”

Yuji was buzzing with excitement. “So wait—wait. Is this confirmation that you’re dating someone?!”

Nobara clapped. “Oh my god, is it her? The hot woman who dropped off lunch for you last week? The one in the heels and red lipstick?”

Gojo chuckled. “Maaaaybe.”

“She’s so cool,” Yuji said dreamily. “She even said hi to me.”

“She winked at me,” Nobara added. “I blacked out for like three seconds.”

Megumi looked like he wanted to walk into traffic.

“But like—when did this happen?” Yuji asked. “You never date anyone. You just flirt with vending machines and disappear!”

Gojo placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “I’ll have you know I’m a very devoted boyfriend.”

“You’re wearing literal evidence of devotion on your face right now,” Nobara said dryly. “You didn’t even wipe it off.”

“I think he wanted us to see it,” Megumi muttered.

“Are you kidding?” Nobara laughed. “He’s been glowing like a smug, sexy lighthouse all morning.”

“Alright, alright,” Gojo said, waving them off. “Yes, I’m seeing someone. Yes, I’m in love. Yes, she kisses me goodbye like she’s sending me off to war. No, I will not be giving further interviews at this time.”

Yuji gasped. “You’re in love?!”

Gojo only smiled, pushing up his blindfold slightly to reveal a wink.

Megumi sighed into his hands.

And Gojo just walked off toward the faculty building, lipstick still bold on his cheek, humming a love song.

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

[ackermanrage]

Hi! First time requesting ever, i love your work so much!

I’d like to request an NSFW oneshot scenario where Levi keeps getting accidental peeks of her chest — towel after shower, low-cut shirt while stretching, etc. He never means to stare but he does, and reader catches on and starts teasing him subtly, pretending she doesn’t notice how it affects him 😌

They’ve been dancing around each other forever — super shy, slow burn, and then one night while they’re alone, reader just straight-up straddles him and softly tells him, “You can look. You can touch. You can taste too, if you want.” 🥺

He’s never been in a relationship, so he totally crashes, right?? Like he’s overwhelmed, but also so into it, and maybe reader guides him through it gently — lots of soft praise and letting him explore? Just tender and emotionally melty 🥹

I just want Levi getting absolutely wrecked by a pair of boobs. Is that too much to ask. 😭

Thank you in advance if this inspires you!! 💗

hiiii!! thanks for requesting <333 i had another anon ask me for something similar, so i basically just merged your ideas together! I just posted it, its called "you can". I hope you like it! <3

[ackermanrage]

Haiii you don’t have to do this (obviously) but could you write for Levi who loves his s/o boobs? Like he like to rest his head on them and stuff, nothing 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 (unless you want, I wouldn’t be opposed lol)

ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ

levi ackerman x fem!reader warnings: lowk smut, not that detailed but still implied

It had been going on for months.

At first, you thought it was just your imagination, the flick of his eyes when you walked by, the subtle way his jaw clenched when your shirt dipped just a little too low, the way he stared too long at your collarbones before sharply turning away like he'd been caught.

He didn’t mean to stare. You knew that. Levi was too respectful, too tightly-wound to act on anything. But you could feel it, the tension, the heat in the air whenever your skin showed, even accidentally. You’d bend over to grab something, and he’d freeze. You’d lift your arms to stretch after drills, and he’d glance, just a second, before his gaze dropped and his ears turned pink.

And he never said a word.

Levi Ackerman, a man with more control than god, was helpless in the presence of your chest. And it was driving him insane.

So you started teasing him. Softly. Slowly. Innocent, at first.

Your shirts dipped just a little lower during off-duty hours. Your hugs lingered longer. When he collapsed beside you after long days, you let his head fall to your chest, and pretended not to notice how still he went. How quiet.

How reverent.

Because he wanted it. Wanted you. You could feel it.

He just didn’t know how to ask.

So you waited. And tonight? Tonight was the night you stopped waiting.

It was late. The barracks were nearly empty, Hange off on some overnight experiment, Erwin tucked away in his office. You and Levi were alone in his quarters, going over deployment charts you didn’t even need to finish. The fire crackled softly beside you. The air between you buzzed.

He was tense, as always. Sitting straight-backed in the chair, arms crossed, brows drawn in.

“You look tired,” you said.

“I’m fine.”

You tilted your head. “Let me help.”

“With what? You don’t need to—”

You rose to your feet and stepped closer. He watched you, guarded but quiet, as you reached for his hands. Gently pulled him up from the chair. His posture stiffened immediately.

You stepped into him.

Close.

Chest to chest.

And when his breath hitched, you smiled.

“Let me,” you said again, guiding him toward the bed.

He followed.

You sat on the edge, then tugged gently at his belt loops until he came between your legs. He stood frozen, looking down at you like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

So you reached for him again, took his hand and placed it just above your chest. His fingers twitched.

“Look at me, Levi.”

He did.

Softly, you whispered, “You always look when you think I’m not paying attention.”

He flinched. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you said, guiding his hand lower, just enough for him to feel the curve of your breast beneath your shirt. “You can look.”

His breath caught.

“You can touch too,” you added, voice low, featherlight.

He stared at you, lips parted, eyes wide, heart clearly racing. Still, he didn’t move.

“And,” you whispered, leaning in so your mouth brushed his jaw, “you can taste, if you want.”

That was the moment he broke.

He sank to his knees, almost on instinct, between your thighs like you were something holy. His hands found your waist, hesitant, shaking. His forehead pressed against your chest as he exhaled in one ragged, shuddering breath.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered. “I’ve never—”

“You don’t have to know,” you said, curling your fingers into his hair. “Just let yourself feel. I’ll show you.”

He looked up, and his expression nearly destroyed you. He looked wrecked, like someone who’d been starved for years and was finally allowed to eat.

So you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, slowly. His eyes followed the movement like it was life or death.

You weren’t wearing a bra.

And he went silent.

His gaze dropped instantly, locked on your bare chest. His mouth parted. One hand lifted instinctively, and stopped halfway.

“Go ahead.” you murmured.

Softly. Barely more than a graze of fingertips. His palm brushed over the curve of one breast, and his whole body shivered. He exhaled a curse, and leaned forward, pressing his lips to your skin.

Just one kiss. Barely there. Then another. And another.

He nuzzled into your chest like it was the safest place in the world, letting his hands explore with trembling awe. He was slow, gentle, like every part of you was sacred.

“God, you’re soft…” he whispered, breath hot against your skin.

You hummed, stroking his hair. “You like them?”

He nodded against you.

“They’re all yours.”

A whimper escaped him at that, barely audible, but it made your chest ache. You could feel the tension unraveling in him with every kiss, every squeeze, every little noise he made against your skin.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in close, like he wanted to disappear into you. Like he didn’t know how to say thank you for being gentle with him, so he just held you tighter.

“Can I…?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded. “Yes. Whatever you want.”

He leaned in again, lips parting this time, and gently, so gently, he took one of your nipples into his mouth.

You gasped, hand tightening in his hair.

Levi groaned softly against you, overwhelmed. His mouth moved slowly, open-mouthed kisses, delicate sucks, tongue flicking experimentally. You whispered his name, breathless, as he switched to the other breast, lavishing it with the same tender focus.

“You’re doing so good, Levi,” you breathed.

He moaned again, deep, needy, muffled by your skin. His hands roamed your back now, pulling you closer, and you let him explore. Let him take his time. Let him have you.

He kept tasting you like he didn’t know what to do with himself, flicking his tongue gently, then suckling softly, then pausing just to breathe against your chest, as if the warmth alone was enough to undo him.

And it was.

When he finally pulled back, lips wet and cheeks flushed, his eyes were glassy. He looked overwhelmed. Beautifully, hopelessly overwhelmed.

“You okay?” you asked softly, brushing his hair back from his face.

He nodded, but it was shaky. “No one’s ever… I’ve never had…”

You leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

“You have it now,” you whispered. “You have me.”

He wrapped his arms around you and held you there, head buried against your bare chest, letting you rock him gently.

And in that quiet moment, Levi Ackerman, the strongest soldier, the cleanest man, the most emotionally closed-off person you’d ever met melted.

Because for the first time in his life, he felt safe enough to fall apart.

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

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

[ackermanrage]

Hi! I’d love to request a fluff one-shot where Levi and a fem!reader just started sharing a bed, and one night he starts fighting in his sleep – like tossing, kicking, maybe even pushing her. I read a headcanon about it and can’t stop thinking how it would actually play out.

Thank you so much! 💕

ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴅ ɪꜱɴᴛ ᴀ ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇꜰɪᴇʟᴅ

levi ackerman x fem!reader warnings: mild ptsd, emotional hurt, implied past trauma, some angst an: my bby levi :(

The first time Levi crawled into your bed, it was almost awkward.

He didn’t make it weird. Not exactly. But the tension in his shoulders when he laid down next to you—stiff and too still, like someone waiting for a trap to spring—said everything he wouldn’t.

You just whispered a soft “Goodnight,” and turned off the light, pretending not to notice how long it took for his breathing to settle into something close to sleep.

Now, a few nights later, it’s almost become routine. He still folds himself into the far edge of the bed like he’s trying not to take up space, but his hand always finds yours under the covers. Like a secret apology. Like a promise that he’s still there.

Tonight feels like all the others—warm, quiet, peaceful.

Until it doesn’t.

You wake to movement. Hard, jerky. A knee bumps against your thigh. Then again. A sharp elbow grazes your arm.

“Levi?” you whisper, turning over groggily.

He doesn’t respond.

His brows are furrowed even in sleep, jaw tight. His legs twitch violently under the covers, and his arms move as if he’s trying to fight something—hands curled into fists, shoulders tensed like he’s back on the battlefield.

“Levi,” you say again, this time sitting up. He flinches hard. His foot kicks against yours. Not enough to hurt, but enough to shock.

You reach for him slowly, gently, placing your palm over his.

The moment your hand touches his skin, he shoves.

You gasp as you nearly fall off the bed. It's instinctive, unconscious, he’s not awake. He doesn’t even realize he’s done it.

You don’t say anything. You just sit there, blinking through the dark as you take a deep breath and carefully, quietly, slide off the bed.

You grab the extra blanket from the end of the mattress and curl up in the little chair near the window, unsure what to feel—more worried for him, or more stunned by how violently his body is still trying to protect him from ghosts that aren’t there anymore.

You don’t sleep.

Eventually, his tossing stops. The air goes still. A quiet, hoarse voice pierces the silence.

“…Where’d you go?”

You look up to see him sitting halfway up in bed, hair mussed, breathing uneven. His eyes scan the dark until they land on your figure in the chair.

He sounds small.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” he says, voice raspy. “I was dreaming. Or something. I didn’t even know you were—shit.”

You stand slowly, blanket wrapped around your shoulders. “You didn’t know. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” He runs a hand down his face. “I could’ve—”

“You didn’t.” You come closer now, standing just beside the bed. “You didn’t hurt me, Levi. You were just… fighting in your sleep. Like your body thought it had to.”

He looks up at you, eyes heavy with guilt.

“I’ve always been better alone,” he mutters. “It’s safer that way.”

You shake your head. “Not safer. Just lonelier.”

That makes him look at you. Really look at you.

“I’m not scared of you, Levi."

He doesn't respond, but you can see the way his shoulders ease. His hand lifts, unsure, hovering like he wants to reach out but doesn’t want to risk it.

You make the choice for him. You take his hand in yours and ease yourself back into the bed, careful and slow.

“Turn around,” you murmur.

“What?”

“Let me hold you.”

His breath catches—but he does it.

He turns, back to you now, and you press your chest to it, arms slipping around his waist beneath the covers. He’s trembling. Just slightly.

You press your lips to the nape of his neck.

“I’m here,” you whisper. “You’re safe.”

It’s quiet for a long time. But slowly, his breathing evens. His body relaxes. And when he finally drifts off again, it’s with your arms around him, and no kicking this time.

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

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

[ackermanrage]

hi there, may i request a megumi x fem reader fluff where reader has a strong bond with megumi’s demon dog kuro? he has kuro protect reader on missions together and will summon kuro around reader if she’s feeling sad or to make her happy. also i think it would be so cute if reader had a pet white cat that gets along with kuro (rip shiro 😔)

ɢᴜᴀʀᴅɪᴀɴ ɪɴ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ

megumi fushiguro x fem!reader warnings: none:) an: omggg this idea is so cute!! i hope you like it!

The first time Kuro padded up beside you on a mission, you were pretty surprised.

You were bleeding, your cursed energy flickering with exhaustion, but as soon as the familiar black-furred demon dog appeared,low growl echoing through the trees—you exhaled like you’d been holding your breath the entire time.

Kuro stood at your side like a guardian in shadows, and with one command from Megumi, he tore through the curse like it was made of paper.

You looked over your shoulder, heart hammering, and caught Megumi’s eyes through the smoke. He gave the faintest nod. You’d thank him later, once you stopped shaking.

From then on, it became a quiet habit of his.

If you were sent on missions alone, Kuro went with you.

If you came back bruised or heavy-eyed, Kuro curled up next to you.

If Megumi noticed you were quiet, he’d murmur something under his breath, fingers forming signs, and within seconds the big black dog would be sitting by your feet, tail thumping against the floor.

You knew Megumi would never say the words out loud. Not like that. But each time Kuro appeared, you felt them just the same.

I’m worried about you.

You’re not alone.

I care.

---

At some point, your white cat—named Mochi, decided she was in love with Kuro.

You had no idea how it started, but Megumi’s expression when he first saw your fluffy, snow-colored cat cuddled up to his demon dog was unforgettable.

He didn’t say anything. Just blinked and stared as Mochi nuzzled into Kuro’s thick fur, purring, while Kuro remained perfectly still with what you swore was resignation in his glowing eyes.

“I think they’re friends now,” you said, sipping your tea as you sat beside Megumi on the floor of your apartment.

Megumi gave a soft exhale that almost counted as a laugh. “She’s not afraid of him?”

“She only fears vacuum cleaners. And not getting fed at 6:00 PM sharp.”

His lips twitched. “Figures.”

You noticed it more often after that.

On tougher days, when your chest felt tight and your shoulders too heavy, Kuro would show up at your door without warning. Mochi would race to greet him, her bell jingling wildly, and the two would curl up beside you on the couch, warm and silent.

One rainy evening, you leaned against the window with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, watching the storm roll in. Megumi sat cross-legged beside you, Kuro at your feet, and Mochi curled in your lap.

“You always send him,” you murmured. “Even when you’re not there.”

Megumi didn’t look away from the storm. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

He was quiet for a long moment. You turned your head just in time to catch the faint blush creeping up his neck.

“Because I trust him,” he finally said. “And I don’t trust many things.”

Your heart fluttered.

He turned to you. “And because I know he makes you feel safe.”

You smiled, gentle and warm. “So do you.”

For once, he didn’t look away.

He just leaned forward, hand slipping into yours, thumb brushing your knuckles as thunder rumbled gently in the distance. Kuro let out a low, content huff at your feet. Mochi stretched and flopped onto her side, eyes closing.

And in that small, quiet moment—you felt more loved than ever.

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

[ackermanrage]

So…I just finished watching aot…

[ackermanrage]

ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜɪꜱ…ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ?!

levi ackerman x fem!reader warnings: none :) an: this is a trend on tiktok, and i've been seeing it SO much lately. I was like "too bad im single" but then i remembered i can just write a fanfic about my glorious king levi ackerman 😛

You sat on the couch, completely horizontal, scrolling mindlessly through TikTok with one leg dangling off the side and a half-eaten bag of chips on your stomach. The boredom was brutal. You had cleaned your apartment, reorganized your bookshelves twice, and even considered doing laundry—considered.

Then, as if the universe heard your suffering, your thumb paused on a TikTok. A girl was recording herself as her boyfriend entered the apartment. She shoved a bouquet and a box of chocolates into his hands, slammed the door in his face, and then when he opened it again, she let out an oscar-worthy gasp.

“BABE?! You did all this… for me??”

You sat up. "Okay yeah. That’s hilarious.”

And thats how you found yourself standing in the self-checkout line at Target with the most romantic bouquet they had and a large box of Ferrero Rochers.

You rushed back home like you were carrying contraband, placed the flowers and chocolates on the kitchen counter, and then texted Levi.

you: hey levi: what you: can you come over for a sec levi: why you: i miss you :( levi: …it’s been four hours. you: yeah and that’s four hours too long. pleaseee levi: what did you do you: nothing yet lol just get here levi: fine...im omw

You station yourself right behind your front door, planning to shove the items into Levi's arms the second he opens the door.

A few minutes later, you here the jingle of some keys and then the second the doorknob twists, you yanked it open, shoved both items into his arms, and slammed the door in his face.

Silence.

You bit your lip to hold back laughter.

Then, the knob turned slowly. Levi stepped inside cautiously, holding the flowers and chocolate like they were some kind of poison.

You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest like you were about to faint.

“Levi?! You got this… for me?! I— I can’t believe this. I’m gonna cry.”

He blinked.

“…You’re actually insane,” he muttered, eyes narrowing. “Did you hit your head while I was gone?”

You batted your lashes. “You’re so romantic. What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“I literally just got here.”

You gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

He looked at you with a deadpan expression. “You bought this stuff.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You turned away dramatically, holding back a grin.

Levi sighed through his nose, one hand already lifting to pinch the bridge of it. “You dragged me here to… lie to yourself?”

“No,” you said sweetly, “I dragged you here because I was bored and you look cute when you're confused.”

He squinted. “You need a hobby.”

You shrugged, already unwrapping one of the chocolates. “You’re my hobby.”

He stared at you for a long second, then walked in and closed the door behind him. “…I’m eating all of these.”

“You say that like it’s a punishment.”

He muttered something under his breath and sat on the couch, grumpy as ever.

You sniffled louder. “You’re so thoughtful it’s embarrassing.”

“…You’re insane.”

You walked over, took the bouquet back, gave him a loud exaggerated kiss on the cheek, and said, “I’m insane for you.”

He stared at you, completely unamused, then glanced down at the chocolates.

Levi sighed again—his default reaction to everything you did—but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. He set the chocolates down and pulled you in by the waist.

“Next time, just ask me to bring you something. I’d do it,” he muttered against your neck.

“…Even if it’s a $23 bouquet and chocolates?”

“Even if it’s twenty-three hundred.”

Now you were the one blinking.

“…okay you win.”

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

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

[ackermanrage]

ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ!ʟᴇᴠɪ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ :)

~ Husband!Levi wakes up before you every single morning. He pads around the house barefoot, starts the kettle, and takes his time preparing tea, one cup for himself, and one exactly the way you like it. He just sits beside you on the bed, watching your chest rise and fall. There’s something calming about the sight of you tucked under the covers, wearing one of his old shirts.

~ Husband!Levi is absurdly territorial, not in a jealous way, but in a quiet, calculated way only people with survival instincts notice. He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t argue. He just watches. eyes sharp, jaw tight. When someone gets too familiar with you. He steps closer, hand resting low on your back, fingers lightly tapping your spine. If someone pushes past you in a crowd, Levi’s the type to grab your waist and reposition you next to him with zero hesitation.

~ Husband!Levi keeps your home cleaner than most hospitals, but he doesn’t mind your clutter. Only yours. Your clothes on the floor? He folds them. Your hair in the drain? He scoops it out. You could leave makeup all over the sink and papers scattered on the table and he wouldn’t say a thing, he just cleans around them. He once found your necklace tangled on the bathroom counter and spent thirty minutes undoing the knot before hanging it carefully on your nightstand.

~ Husband!Levi wears his wedding ring like armour. He’s not flashy. He didn’t want some expensive band, and he didn’t want to make a big deal about the ceremony. But that ring? He touches it constantly — when he’s thinking, when he’s irritated, when he misses you. It grounds him. If he has to take it off for work or training, he keeps it in a tiny cloth pouch tucked inside his inner jacket pocket, and he checks for it twice before putting his gear on.

~ Husband!Levi remembers every tiny thing about you, especially the things you forget. He knows your coffee order, your shoe size, what side of the bed you prefer, and exactly how long your bad moods last when you’re sleep-deprived. You’ll mention craving something in conversation, days later, it’s in the fridge. You’ll complain about a headache, he’ll hand you water and your preferred meds before you even ask. He doesn't make a show of it. He just...pays attention

~ Husband!Levi doesn’t verbalize “I love you”, but when he does, it means everything. He’s not careless with words. He’ll call you “brat” or “woman” or “pain in my ass,” but when it comes to the real thing, he doesn’t waste it. He says “I love you” on nights when the world feels too heavy. When you’re curled up in bed, when you’ve had a terrible day, when you’re not even looking at him and he can finally say it without being overwhelmed by your reaction. It’s always low, always gruff. Sometimes it slips out when he’s holding you too tight. Other times it’s whispered when he thinks you’re asleep.

~ Husband!Levi is physical, not in a lustful way, but in a grounding way. He needs to touch to believe you’re real. When you sit beside him, his hand will automatically land on your thigh. When your cooking, he’ll press a kiss to your shoulder. If you’re standing together in silence, he’ll brush his fingers along your arm or let your pinkies link. You once asked him if he even noticed how often he touched you. He stared for a moment and said, “Not really. Feels normal.” And that’s the thing with Levi, touching you isn’t supposed to be showy. It’s instinct.

~ Husband!Levi is surprisingly soft when you're sick or injured—even if you're being a stubborn brat about it. You could be sneezing nonstop, wrapped in a hundred blankets, claiming you’re “fine,” and he’ll just frown and say, “Bullshit.” He’ll monitor your temperature, feed you soup (homemade or not, he makes sure it’s hot), fluff your pillows, and glare at you if you try to get out of bed. The only time he ever truly panicked was when you got hurt badly once, he didn’t say much then, just held your hand until you came to, knuckles white from how hard he gripped you.

~ Husband!Levi doesn’t believe in grand romantic gestures, but you’ll never have to ask for flowers. He brings them anyway. Not for show. Just… when he’s thinking of you. He’ll come home after a long day, toss his coat on the chair, and hand you a small bouquet without saying anything. Sometimes they’re wildflowers, sometimes fresh lavender, sometimes from a stall near work. He acts like it’s no big deal. “Don’t make it weird,” he’ll say as you smile and coo over them, cheeks turning pink. But he likes seeing them in a vase on the windowsill. He glances at them every time he walks by.

~ Husband!Levi doesn’t smile much, not with his mouth, anyway. But with you, his whole face softens. His voice drops a little lower. His brows relax. His shoulders ease. You tell a bad joke, and while he doesn’t laugh, his lips twitch and he shakes his head like he can’t believe he married someone like you. He stares at you sometimes when you’re not looking—long, quiet stares filled with so much weight it knocks the breath out of you when you finally catch him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, grinning. He shrugs. “Just… still figuring out how I got this lucky.”

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

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

[ackermanrage]

GUESS WHO DIDNT WAKE UP WITH A SORE THROAT TODAY??? MEEEE HAHAHAHHAA 😆😆

[ackermanrage]

hello there! i came across your page and saw that you write for jjk too?! i already love the way you write Levi so i know i’m in the right place 🙂‍↕️ may i request a Megumi x fem!reader where the reader has the same personality as Megumi, but when she’s around him she softens up? i was thinking reader and Megumi know each other through Gojo since they used to train together and ever since then Megumi has always had a crush on her. Yuuji & Nobara find out about this by meeting reader and seeing how flustered Megumi is around her presence. So they try a bunch of (failed) set ups to get them together but Megumi is just too awkward 😭 so Gojo decides to step in since he’s their number 1 shipper by sending them on a mission together where it requires them to kiss?

ᴏɴʟʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ

megumi fushiguro x fem!reader warnings: none :) an: im sorry this took so long to come out, i hope you like it! :)

Megumi was quiet, sharp, logical—and generally unimpressed by most things. That’s why it drove Yuuji and Nobara crazy when he acted completely out of character the second you walked into a room.

“Wait—wait, that’s her?” Nobara whispered, elbowing Yuuji hard in the ribs when you strolled into the common room. You wore your uniform a little neater than usual, eyes cool and unreadable, not unlike Megumi’s own expression.

You greeted Gojo casually and nodded toward the other first-years, only letting the faintest ghost of a smile curl on your lips when your eyes met Megumi’s.

Megumi, for his part, looked like he forgot how to breathe.

Yuuji’s eyebrows shot up. “Yo…he’s red. Like, actual tomato red.”

“Didn’t think Fushiguro had it in him,” Nobara whispered.

He tried to play it cool, returning your greeting with a quiet “Hey,” but his voice cracked. Nobara had to bite down on her knuckle to keep from laughing.

You were like Megumi in a lot of ways: calm, serious, a little standoffish—but around him, you softened just enough to make him question everything.

Like when the group walked home and you slowed your pace to match his without saying anything, or when you handed him a can of his favorite drink on a hot day with a shrug and a muttered, “Figured you’d want it.”

He liked that you didn’t expect him to be someone he wasn’t. And maybe that’s why he’d had a quiet crush on you for—what, years? Since training under Gojo together, since the day you’d bruised his ribs during sparring and then helped him up like you hadn’t just tried to murder him?

But of course, being Megumi, he never said anything.

Which was exactly why Yuuji and Nobara made it their mission to fix that.

---

Attempt #1: The Shared Umbrella Incident

It had been pouring after class. Nobara ‘accidentally’ snatched the last umbrella from the rack, and Yuuji declared loudly, “Oh no! Guess [Name] and Megumi will have to share!” before running off with Nobara under the dry safety of their umbrella.

Megumi stared blankly after them.

“…They’re the worst,” he muttered.

You shrugged and opened your umbrella, tilting it slightly toward him. “Get under, loser.”

His heart skipped a beat, but he complied without protest. The two of you walked quietly, shoulders brushing, raindrops tapping gently above your heads. You didn’t speak until halfway back to the dorms.

“…You always get like this when you’re around me?” you asked.

Megumi blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You go all…” You glanced at him, amused. “...weird.”

He turned away. “I’m not weird.”

“You’re weirder than usual.”

He muttered something about you being annoying, and you smiled.

Attempt #2: The Sparring Match from Hell

Yuuji and Nobara had set up “team bonding sparring,” which turned into a 2-on-2 match—you and Megumi against them.

“Look at that chemistry,” Yuuji whispered, circling around you with a grin.

“Too bad they’re both emotionally constipated,” Nobara added.

Megumi kept stealing glances at you, especially when you moved beside him in sync. You didn’t say anything, but you noticed. Every time his fingers brushed yours or you ducked behind him mid-defense, he tensed.

You took the win with a swift, coordinated combo move that floored Yuuji, and then offered Megumi your hand to pull him to his feet.

He took it carefully. Like you were delicate, like you might slip away.

You smiled softly. “Good match.”

He said nothing. But he looked at your hand longer than he probably should have.

Attempt #3: Nobara’s Fake Confession Scheme

“Okay,” Nobara told Yuuji, “we’ll tell [Name] that Megumi’s in love with someone else. That’ll make her admit her feelings first.”

“That’s evil,” Yuuji said. “Let’s do it.”

You were halfway through your lunch when Nobara sat beside you and said way too casually, “So did you hear? Megumi has a crush on someone.”

You raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah, like...bad. Hopelessly in love.”

Yuuji joined in. “He told me last night. It’s been going on for years.”

You blinked. “...It’s me, isn’t it?”

Both of them froze. You took another bite of your food.

Nobara hissed. “Why aren’t you blushing?!”

You shrugged. “I’ve known.”

“WHAT?”

“Why do you think I only hang out with him?”

---

Gojo watched all this unfold like it was a season finale. Eventually, he grew tired of the slow burn.

“I’m sending them on a mission,” he announced one morning. “Just them. High-risk. High-stakes. Barrier requires intimacy. I’m calling it Operation: Make-Out or Die.”

“Please stop naming these things,” Shoko muttered.

Later that evening he called Megumi in to explain the mission.

“God, it’s painful watching you two,” he said, slapping a mission file into Megumi’s hands. “You like her. She likes you. I’m bored. Fix it.”

“I’m not doing anything weird,” Megumi said.

Gojo grinned. “Who said you’d be the one doing something? You’re just going on a mission together. That happens to require…a couple. Don’t look at me like that—it’s a curse seal. Seals respond to intent. You’ll need to fake a bond to pass the barrier.”

Megumi blinked. “…You’re joking.”

“I never joke,” Gojo lied through his teeth. “Now go be in love or whatever.”

---

It was a lower-ranked curse sealed inside a domain, but the tricky part? Entry required "proven romantic connection."

“I’m going to kill him,” Megumi muttered.

You stood beside him in front of the shimmering barrier, reading the old runes.

“It says only those with visible ‘affectional bonds’ may enter,” you said, tone unreadable. “Which means…”

Megumi sighed. “Holding hands?”

You offered your hand without hesitation. “C’mon, Captain Awkward.”

He took it, gently, like it might burn him.

The barrier shimmered but didn’t budge.

“Not enough, I guess.”

Your lips quirked. “We could try kissing.”

Megumi paused. “You’re okay with that?”

You glanced at him. “Are you?”

“…Yeah. I’ve been wanting to.”

Your eyes softened. “Me too.”

You leaned in—and Megumi met you halfway. It was tentative, warm, and careful. Just a brush of lips—but it sent heat up both your spines.

The barrier pulsed—and shattered open.

“…Well, damn,” you murmured.

Megumi looked dazed. “That worked.”

The curse was laughably easy to exorcise after that, but neither of you said a word about what happened until the train ride back.

Even then, the silence between you felt charged. Gentle.

Safe.

---

You both walked through the gates of Jujutsu Tech in silence—until you heard a scream.

“THEY’RE BACK!!” Nobara shrieked.

“Oh my god, did you guys kiss?” Yuuji called. “No, don’t tell me. Wait, yes, tell me—did you kiss?”

“Did the barrier open?!” Nobara demanded.

Megumi stared at them, utterly expressionless.

You answered for him. “We handled it.”

“THAT’S A YES,” Nobara howled. “YOU OWE ME 500 YEN, YUUJI.”

Gojo strolled into the courtyard, sunglasses glinting. “How was it, lovebirds?”

Megumi ignored him. “I’m never listening to you again.”

Gojo gasped. “Thats rude.”

Later that night, when the teasing died down and the sun dipped behind the dorm roofs, you found Megumi sitting under a tree, reading.

You plopped beside him and nudged his knee with yours.

“…Hey.”

He looked up, softer now. “Hey.”

You hesitated. “So…was that kiss real, or for the mission?”

He set the book down.

“…It was real. For me.”

You gave a small smile. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

Megumi looked at you, flushed but steady.

“…Wanna try it again? Without a curse this time?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just leaned in.

This time, the world didn’t shimmer. But it didn’t have to.

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

[ackermanrage]

love the way you write levi, some either make him overly mean than he actually is or he’s completely out of character. i would love to request a levi x fem reader too who’s also a captain as well (i agree with that one anon you wrote for, an implied age gap is uncomfortable 😭) where they both believe that they’re being secretive and subtle with their relationship, so they think no one has noticed. but unfortunately for them, EVERYBODY knows. they’re way more obvious than they thought they were. it’s your choice how you want their relationship to be revealed! thanks so much if u accept!

ᴀʙꜱᴏʟᴜᴛʟʏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴜʙᴛʟᴇ

levi ackerman x fem!reader warnings: none :) an: wowie i think i did a good job <3 this was so fun making!

To anyone watching, the truth was obvious.

The sharp glances across the mess hall. The way your boots always ended up drying next to his. The fact that Levi actually passed the tea kettle to you without glaring. He even smiled once.

And yet, the two of you? Completely convinced no one had any idea.

“Don’t stand so close,” Levi muttered, low under his breath as you stood beside him during a strategy meeting.

“I’m standing like a normal person,” you replied, equally quiet, eyes fixed on the map in front of you.

“Mm,” he grunted. “Then stop smelling so good.”

You resisted the urge to elbow him.

Across the room, Hange raised a brow. Erwin simply sighed.

---

The entire Corps had a betting pool.

Some had caught on after Levi disappeared for three whole hours during supply inventory and came back looking suspiciously calm. Others noted how your jacket was always suspiciously pressed, even after drills—rumor said Levi secretly washed it.

Miche claimed he once saw Levi wipe blood off your cheek with a literal handkerchief.

The way Levi always hovered nearby after expeditions—like a shadow that refused to leave your side. Or how you’d always linger outside the infirmary door whenever he was inside being patched up. People noticed. People talked.

---

But the first time someone really clocked it was after a particularly bloody return from Wall Maria. You stumbled off your horse with a muscle tear and dried blood trailing down your cheek, but you didn’t head to the infirmary. Not right away.

No, you beelined straight to Levi.

He barely had time to mutter, “Tch, you’re bleeding—” before you kissed him.

Right there. You swear that there was no one there. But, unforunatly, there were about 12 scouts who were just gagged.

It wasn’t messy or heated. Just a short, anchoring kiss, like you needed to feel that he was alive. When you pulled away, you muttered something like, “Good. You’re okay.”

Levi blinked, jaw flexing slightly, then brushed his thumb across the blood on your temple.

“You’re the one who looks like roadkill,” he muttered, and started to walk with you to the infirmary like nothing happened.

That was the moment everyone knew.

---

The 104th sat huddled around a shared loaf of bread and an ongoing argument.

“I’m just saying,” Connie hissed, “you don’t wipe someone’s face with your handkerchief unless you’re either their mom or their—y’know.”

“Lover?” Sasha offered.

Jean scoffed. “You’re all idiots. They’re definitely screwing.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Historia said, chewing thoughtfully. “Levi opens the door for her. Every time.”

“Captain Levi doesn’t even open doors for God,” Eren muttered, frowning.

Armin nodded. “I’ve catalogued six separate instances where he’s left doors open in front of superiors. But he held it for Captain [Last Name] last Tuesday. Full eye contact.”

Mikasa, silent until now, sipped her tea. “They’re in love.”

Jean let out a laugh. “How do they not know we know?”

“They think they’re being subtle,” Connie said, lowering his voice and glancing around dramatically.

“They’re not,” everyone said in unison.

---

You were not planning to make this awkward. It was supposed to be instructional: teach the new recruits how to disarm and disable an opponent in a close-quarters scenario.

But Levi’s hand on your hip lingered just a beat too long.

And your smirk—smug and challenging—made something flicker in his expression.

You flipped him. He retaliated with a sweep that pressed your body flush to his, one hand bracing the back of your neck.

Whispers ran through the room.

“Captain Levi’s touching someone.”

“And not killing them.”

You muttered, “You trying to distract me?”

He didn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

You only realized how bad it looked when you released him and heard someone whisper, “They’re definitely dating.”

Before you could say anything, Connie shouted from the back. “OKAY, WHO’S THE LITTLE SPOON?”

You froze. Levi blinked.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“We’re not—” you started.

“—in a relationship,” Levi said flatly.

Dead silence.

Then Jean asked, far too casually, “So, uh, those weren’t bite marks on Levi’s collar last week?”

Sasha nodded. “Or the time we found lipstick on his cravat?”

Armin adjusted his glasses. “You used his ODM gear once."

Eren looked genuinely traumatized. “He smiled at you."

Everyone stared.

Levi stared back.

“Who told you we were dating?” he finally asked.

Almost everyone in that little crowd pointed to 3 people. Connie, Jean, and Eren.

“You kissed him after the last expedition!” Historia added. “In front of the horses!”

You frowned. “That was private.”

“No it wasn’t!” everyone shouted.

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose like this was giving him a migraine. “This is absurd.”

“Look,” Connie said, arms crossed, “you’re not slick. You tuck her hair behind her ear.”

Jean smirked. “You look at him like he built the walls with his bare hands.”

You stared at Levi. He stared back. Finally, you sighed.

“Fine,” you muttered. “Yes. We’re together.”

A chorus of cheers.

Sasha: “Knew it!”

Jean: “Pay up, Connie.”

Connie: “Ugh, hell. I said it wouldn’t happen ‘til winter.”

Levi, already regretting everything, muttered, “You people are children.”

But later that night, as you sat next to him on the barracks roof again—your head resting lightly on his shoulder, your pinky brushing his in that familiar, quiet affection—you couldn’t help but smile.

“We really thought we were being subtle,” you murmured.

He grunted. “We were not.”

You laughed softly. “You still owe me a kiss, you said I would get one if I cleaned my barrack.”

He turned, cupped your jaw gently, and pressed his mouth to yours with that same steady, grounding touch.

Behind you, someone in the courtyard below shouted, “YUP, THEY’RE DOING IT AGAIN!”

You groaned into Levi’s shoulder as he muttered, “I’m going to kill them.”

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

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

[ackermanrage]

imagine Levi watching you spar with the scouts you’re training and him getting turned on from seeing you fight 🤭 esp because he knows ur gonna win, you just look so hot when you’re fighting, ESP if you’re defending/protecting him

ꜱʜᴏᴡ, ᴅᴏɴᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ

levi ackerman x fem!reader warnings: none :) an: i made the reader a captain, hope you like it!

The sun's high. Blades glint. Scouts circle the field like it's a damn battlefield—but you're the only one commanding attention. Authoritative. Sharp. Covered in dirt and sweat but holding posture like you run the whole damn military. Because, in this ring, you do.

You're demonstrating hand-to-hand combat—real close-quarters stuff. Taking them through weak points, disarming, grounding techniques. And everyone’s watching like it’s gospel.

You’re not smiling.

"Today we cover close combat—techniques to disable your opponent fast,” you say coolly, pacing in front of them. “No showboating. No dragging it out. Fast. Clean. Efficient.”

Levi stands off to the side, arms folded, stoic as ever. But his eyes haven’t left you once.

You demonstrate a basic move, flipping a recruit in under five seconds. The kid groans from the ground. You dust your hands.

“See that? Control.”

Then Miche—of course it’s Miche—pipes up with a lazy smirk, half-joking but loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Y’know,” he starts, casual, “if you were ever up against Levi, you’d just have to aim low. Guy’s small. That’s a structural disadvantage.” A few of the scouts laugh under their breath.

You stop moving. Turn slowly. Levi’s eyes flick up from the ground—he knows that look.

There’s a flash in your eye. Dangerous. “So you’re the expert on taking Levi down now?”

Miche shrugs. “Just saying, it’s not realistic.”

“Oh?” you say, wiping your hands on your cargo pants. You start walking toward Miche with this calm, deadly energy. “Is that what you think?”

“Come here.”

Miche hesitates. “Seriously?”

“Now.”

Miche grins, cocky, walking over to you. “It’s basic logic. Shorter reach, smaller leverage—”

You don’t let him finish.

It’s immediate. Brutal. Beautiful. You lunge. Disarm. Sweep. Slam. It all happens in seconds, and suddenly Miche’s on his back in the dirt, wind knocked clean out of him, arm pinned behind his back.

You lean in, low and sharp against his ear. “That’s how you properly take someone down. No matter their height.”

Miche wheezes something unintelligible. You stand and dust your hands off like it was nothing.

Levi exhales slowly through his nose. If anyone looked close, they’d see the slight flush in his neck. His jaw’s tight. His fingers twitch once like he wants to do something with them.

Because you did that for him. You defended him without hesitation. Went full predator mode in front of everyone. And you looked hot doing it.

He can’t stop thinking about how easily you moved. How serious you got. How quick you were to get your hands dirty when someone disrespected him. His chest is tight. His mouth is dry. His pants are—well. Tight.

Levi shifts. Swallows. He’s feeling it now. The ache. The tight coil low in his stomach that only ever appears when you’re like this—unapologetically violent and so fucking loyal.

He should look away. He should. But he doesn’t.

Because the truth is— He’s not just impressed. He’s turned on. Wildly.

By the time it’s over—by the time you dismiss the scouts to go practice and start sauntering his way—he’s practically vibrating.

You lean into him, close, breathless but smug. “All done. Enjoy the show?” you ask, voice low.

Levi doesn’t answer right away. His eyes flicker to your mouth, then back to your eyes. And then he mutters, “Get inside. Now.”

Yeah. Sparring is definitely his favorite training activity now.

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

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

[ackermanrage]

ᴍɪꜱꜱ ᴍᴀɪɴᴛᴇɴᴀɴᴄᴇ

janitor!levi x professor!fem!reader warnings: slow burn, expilct language, academic setting, power dynamics, flirting via insults and eye contact, smut, levi being the inpatient levi he is, some name calling (baby, babygirl) wc: 6.8k an: oof this is long. genuinely i have no idea what im doing i just start writing and then i dont stop so it might feel all over the place but DONT WORRY. because this is for all the girlies that love dom!levi.

summary of chapter: Levi being a freak? You didn't know he was capable of that. And then Hange had to go create a whole discord server that half the university joined in less than a minute. You got assigned an intern a few days later, then things a get a bit heated and who even expects Levi to be patient about this? About you?

masterlist to this series

He stood in your doorway like a mirage—silent, solid, all shadows and sharp lines. Cargo pants slung low on his hips, black gloves tugged snug over his hands, and a dark gray t-shirt clinging to his torso in the way fabric only does when it's been worked in. His hair was tied back today, a few damp strands sticking to the side of his face.

And for a moment, you just... stared.

Maybe it was the heat frying your nerves, or maybe it was the way his presence felt like a cold slap to your overheated senses—but either way, you couldn’t look away.

“Fan broken?” he asked flatly, his voice low and rasped with the edge of someone who hadn’t talked all day.

You blinked, your hand still hovering near your water bottle like you’d forgotten how to function.

“Uh—yeah. Fan. AC too,” you managed, already feeling the fabric of your blouse clinging tighter the longer he stood there. “It’s... sort of like sitting in a greenhouse. But with more body heat and less photosynthesis.”

He stepped into the office without a word, letting the door close behind him with a soft click. You were suddenly very aware of how small your space was. The room felt even more claustrophobic now—his presence swallowing the air.

Levi walked past your desk, straight to the corner where the little system that made the fan run sat like a crime scene. You watched as he crouched beside it, back muscles shifting subtly beneath his shirt. His gloves moved with clean, practiced ease—unplugging wires, pressing buttons, flicking switches.

You weren’t looking at his hands.

Well—you were. But not in the way that made sense.

And then he said, still facing away, “You gonna stand there and sweat or sit?”

Your brows lifted.

“...You talk to all the faculty like that?”

He glanced back at you, the faintest arch of an eyebrow giving away that bone-dry humor he kept buried beneath all that grump.

“Only the ones who put ‘send ice’ on a work order.”

You tried to bite down a smile, walking slowly toward your desk, heels clicking softly against the tile. You sat back in your chair, letting the leather stick to your thighs as sweat continued to bead along the line of your collarbone.

“I wasn’t exaggerating, by the way,” you muttered, fanning yourself weakly with a stack of papers. “It’s actually disgusting in here.”

“Yeah,” he said, pushing a loose wire into place. “You're sweating through your shirt.”

Your body stilled. Head tilted.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean it’s hot,” he added quickly, tone neutral. But he still didn’t look at you. And his ears—just the tips—were a little red.

You leaned forward, resting your elbow on the desk. “Didn't realize how long you were looking at me.”

“I’m wasn't,” he said shortly, standing on a stool to check the ceiling vent. “Just not blind.”

Your heart kicked up.

You leaned back slowly, crossing your legs with deliberate slowness. “So... you were looking.”

That made him pause.

Just for a second.

Then he turned, got off the stool, and walked back toward the fan. “Do you want this fixed or not?”

You smiled, letting your gaze drag lazily across his form. “I’m just trying to keep the conversation going while you crawl around on your knees in front of me.”

His head lifted sharply.

And this time—he looked at you.

Fully. Directly.

Eyes raking over you like he was finally letting himself. Like he wasn’t just tolerating your presence, but taking you in—how your shirt clung to your chest, the sweat glinting along your neck, your crossed legs shifting ever so slightly under the desk.

He didn’t say anything.

But the air felt electric.

“Something wrong?” you asked softly, voice just above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he muttered, dark eyes unreadable. “I forgot how fucking loud professors can be.”

That made you laugh—soft, low, and dripping with something just shy of flirtation. You didn’t break eye contact.

“Loud, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Silence stretched between you.

You could feel it now—the shift. The change in atmosphere. It wasn’t just hot because the AC was broken. It was hot because he was standing in your space, breathing your air, looking at you like you were a problem he didn’t want to solve.

“Guess we all make noise in different ways.”

He said nothing.

Just stared.

Until the fan suddenly sputtered back to life behind him with a soft whirrrr.

You both blinked.

Levi rolled his eyes, muttering, “Figures.”

Then—without warning. he turned, gathering his stuff and brushing past your desk to your door.

You followed his motion with your eyes, head tilting again. “No ‘you’re welcome’?”

He paused in the doorway.

“Not my job to be polite.”

You smirked. “What is your job, then?”

He looked over his shoulder—eyes sharp, mouth set in a tight line.

“To clean up other people’s messes.”

And then he was gone.

Door swinging shut behind him.

Leaving you alone in a room that was finally cool… but somehow, you were still burning.

---

3 days later.

Late afternoon. The halls were quiet, most of the students long gone, with only the occasional sound of footsteps echoing off stone and tile. Your lecture had run long again, something about cellular respiration turning into a spontaneous tangent on trauma responses and human biology. It didn’t matter—you were too deep in your own rhythm to stop. But by the time you finally dismissed the few stragglers, your office had turned into a storm of clutter. A toppled stack of lab models. Papers everywhere. A broken glass frame you’d been meaning to replace since Monday.

You sighed, squatting down to gather the mess.

And then—you heard the cart wheels.

That low, rolling sound that had started to feel... familiar. Predictable, almost. You didn’t even have to look to know it was him.

Levi.

You glanced up as he passed, mop slung over one shoulder, clipboard tucked under his arm. He paused by your door, eyes narrowing faintly at the scene inside.

“Didn’t take you for the messy type,” he said, voice deadpan but not unkind.

You huffed a laugh. “I’m not. My students are. You ever seen what twenty teenagers can do to a stack of flashcards?”

He didn’t reply. Just stepped inside, calm as ever, and crouched down beside the broken frame like he did this for a living. (He did.) Gloved hands reached out, collected shards of glass with movements that were methodical, precise. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows. Veins shifting beneath his forearms. Wrist flexing with every pick and motion.

You watched, unable not to.

The air between you felt heavier with every second.

And you—stupid, impulsive, maybe heat-drunk off how absurdly composed he looked—let the words slip out before you could stop them.

“You’ve got really nice hands.”

He froze.

Just for a second.

Fingers stilling over the last jagged shard of glass.

He turned his head slightly, his eyes dragging toward you like they didn’t want to. You couldn’t read his expression, not fully. Something sharp edged into his silence—something unreadable and still and aware.

You cleared your throat. Tried to play it off with a careless tilt of your head.

“I mean—steady. Not what I expected from someone who works with bleach and mop buckets.”

You saw his mouth twitch.

“You look at everyone’s hands that close?”

Your breath caught.

You swallowed. “Only when they’re in my office. On their knees. Touching my stuff.”

His jaw shifted. A flicker of something—heat? irritation?—passed across his face. His eyes dropped back down to the glass, and he set the final piece aside with more force than necessary. Then he stood slowly.

But when he spoke, his voice had dropped an octave.

“You really shouldn’t say things like that.”

Your heart thudded. “Why?”

He looked at you now. Really looked. Not just passing glances—this was a look. The kind that stripped things bare. The kind that knew.

“Because I’m not good at pretending I didn’t hear them.”

The words lingered.

You sat there, still crouched, your breath stalled in your throat, the heat in your body shifting from surface-level irritation to something deeper. Needier.

You opened your mouth. Nothing came out.

He broke the moment first. Bent down, picked up the small trash bag he’d brought in, and turned toward the door.

Before he left, he paused. Didn’t look at you this time—just stood with his back to you, hand resting on the doorknob. His arm flexed as he gripped the doorknob a bit tighter.

“They’re not the only steady thing about me, you know.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

And you— You sat there in silence, absolutely ruined.

---

The University of Paradis cafeteria was less of a dining hall and more of a chaotic ecosystem.

Today, you were sandwiched between Erwin and Hange, picking at a croissant and sipping watered-down iced coffee while trying not to melt. The AC in the cafeteria was working fine, but after your week from hell—and that one specific janitor still taking up way too much real estate in your brain—you’d been in a semi-permanent state of distraction.

Across from you sat Miche, unreadable as always, and next to him, Petra was talking softly with Nanaba about the logistics of next week’s campus conference.

It was almost peaceful.

Until a group of students two tables away decided they had no concept of volume control.

“…I’m telling you, she smiled at him. Like actually smiled. The janitor, dude.”

You blinked. Head tilting slightly.

Hange perked up immediately.

Another voice chimed in—someone you recognized as Connie.

“Nah nah nah—it’s more than that. Sasha said she saw them alone. In her office. Door was closed.”

“Shut up,” Armin whispered, clearly trying to do damage control. “You guys are way too loud—”

Jean’s voice cut through. “I mean, look at the guy. He’s always around. Like… suspiciously around. The mop cart’s never that far from her classroom.”

“Maybe he likes biology,” Eren offered.

“Or maybe he likes Professor [Last Name] in those pencil skirts,” Sasha laughed.

You froze.

Beside you, Erwin set down his fork with a slow blink.

Hange’s head snapped toward you like a dog that just spotted a squirrel.

Miche didn’t even look up. Just calmly stirred his soup.

You cleared your throat. “They’re just kids.”

“Kids with working eyes, apparently,” Hange said brightly, leaning across the table toward you. “You know, I did wonder why Levi suddenly started fixing things so promptly when your name’s on the work order.”

You blinked. “My fan broke.”

Erwin smiled faintly. “Did it also break your common sense?”

Petra gasped softly into her palm.

Nanaba sipped her tea like this was the best lunch she’d had all month.

You huffed, leaning back in your chair. “Okay, first of all, there is nothing—”

“Door was closed,” Hange sang, wiggling their brows. “C-L-O-S-E-D. Oh my god, do you think he’s a wall-pusher?”

You choked on your coffee.

Miche finally lifted his head just enough to murmur, “He does have strong hands.”

“Miche!” you hissed.

Erwin rested his chin on his fist, smirking. “I do find it fascinating. We always thought you’d end up with someone from your department. You know—someone who publishes in Nature.”

“Levi’s definitely not submitting to Nature,” Hange muttered. “But he is a natural.”

You were one bad joke away from setting fire to the cafeteria.

“Can we not talk about my imaginary sex life at work?”

“Imaginary?” Hange whispered like they were taking notes. “So it hasn’t happened yet. Interesting. But you want it to.”

“Can I eat my croissant in peace?”

“No,” Erwin and Hange said in unison.

Just then, as if summoned by sheer bad karma, Levi appeared.

He entered from the side hallway, pushing his cart toward the industrial trash bins, clearly unaware he had just walked into a war zone. His sleeves were rolled up. Gloves tucked into his belt. That usual scowl etched into his face like it belonged there.

Your stomach did something very stupid.

He didn’t look at your table. Not once. But you could tell—he knew you were there.

Hange whispered under their breath, “Look at him. You’re telling me that man hasn’t bent you over your lab table yet?”

You kicked them under the table so hard Erwin’s coffee sloshed.

Levi dumped something in the bin. Adjusted his gloves.

And—finally—glanced your way.

Brief. Just a flicker.

But it was enough.

Your throat went dry. Your mouth parted. Your hand, still holding your fork, paused halfway to your plate.

And just like that, he turned and walked out.

Like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just made you remember every single thing about the last time he’d looked at you like that.

The table was quiet for a moment.

Then Hange leaned back with a sigh, folding their arms behind their head.

“God. If you don’t kiss him soon, I will.”

---

It was the end of the day—nearly seven o'clock, and the campus had fallen into that calm, post-sunset hush. The halls were dimmer now, painted in soft orange light from the last bit of sun bleeding through the high glass windows. Most students were gone. The classrooms were empty.

Except for Lecture Hall E3.

The hall was quiet except for the low buzz of the building’s old lights and the faint clink of something metal in your hands—a broken microscope clamp, one of the dozen things still malfunctioning in your lab since midterms ended.

You sat on the edge of your desk, legs crossed, one hand gripping your cold coffee while the other held the offending clamp. Across from you stood Levi, tool belt low on his hips, sleeves rolled up.

Hange hadn’t meant to go there, not really. They were looking for a dry-erase marker Petra claimed she'd left during her last guest talk. But as they wandered toward the room, humming under their breath, they paused in the doorway—stopped cold by what they saw through the crack in the half-closed door.

You. Levi.

Too close to not be suspicious.

You were sitting down, arms crossed, head tilted in that way you got when you were poking at someone on purpose. Your voice was low, but Hange could feel the tone of it—even from outside the room. It was teasing.

And Levi?

He was standing directly in front of you, one hand resting on the edge of the desk, head dipped low, voice a rumble.

You said something—soft, laughing under your breath—and Levi stepped closer. Just a fraction. Just enough to make it absolutely inappropriate.

You weren’t touching. But you might as well have been.

His hand brushed the desk next to your thigh. Your knee shifted. His fingers tapped. You smiled like you were about to say something stupid.

That’s when Hange gasped.

Too loud.

You both turned sharply, your conversation shattering on impact as you spotted Hange standing frozen in the door like they’d walked into a porno.

“Oh shit,” you blurted.

Levi didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch.

He just blinked. Slowly.

“...You lost?” he asked Hange, deadpan.

“Uh-huh. Yep. Marker. Dry erase. Important. OkayBYE—”

And then they were gone—bolting down the hallway, nearly tripping over their own feet as they pulled out their phone mid-sprint.

You and Levi stared at the empty door in silence.

Then he looked at you, jaw tightening. “Next time we talk, we do it somewhere with a fucking lock.”

---

8:12 a.m.

You stepped into the main faculty lounge, and instantly felt the shift in the air. Like the energy had turned radioactive.

Erwin looked up from his tablet. Petra was pretending to read an article. Nanaba had the most serene smirk on her face, sipping her tea with both hands.

Your phone kept buzzing. Constantly. You just hadn't checked it yet.

You unlocked it and pulled up the source of hell itself, thinking you should check it out before putting it on Do Not Disturb.

Whispr. Paradis University’s unofficial gossip forum. Anonymous posts. Zero filters. All chaos.

anonymous:

Just saw Professor [Last Name] in a lecture hall w/ THE janitor 👀

horseface:

Pls they're always standing SO CLOSE…

anonymous:

he leaned in and whispered something. 🫣

connie_69:

Nah bc my friend said she saw him leave her office TWICE last week after hours. 😏

sashasandwich:

I saw them chit chatting during breaks...

Seriously?! A discord server?!

You scrolled down, horrified.

There it was. The new "nickname". Burned into your corneas like a curse.

“MISS MAINTENANCE.”

And the top-liked comment?

“If I were her, I’d risk it all for those hands too. #MissMaintenance”

You groaned, slamming your phone face-down on the table in the faculty lounge.

Hange was already there, sipping coffee like they hadn’t ruined your life 12 hours ago.

“Oh good—you saw it,” they chirped, grinning wide. “What was it again? Miss Maintenance?”

You glared. “They made a hashtag, Hange.”

“I think it’s cute! You’ve got fan pages now!”

“I’m going to bury myself under the supply closet.”

“You’d have company," they winked, “Better make room for Levi.”

"Hange—"

---

The science building’s break room was barely functional—fluorescent lights, burnt coffee, a sad little fridge that buzzed like it was haunted. You only came in here when absolutely necessary, and today, unfortunately, was one of those days.

You were mid-sip of what barely passed as coffee, leaning back against the counter and scrolling through lecture slides, when you heard it.

The door creaked open.

Footsteps. Deliberate. Slow.

You didn’t even have to look up.

“Levi.”

He didn’t answer at first. Just let the door click shut behind him, the silence stretching in that way he was infamous for. When you finally lifted your eyes, he was standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable.

There was something… off. Not angry, but something close. Tight around the mouth. Focused.

You arched a brow. “Is this a social call, or are you here to fix the refrigerator that’s been humming like a possessed gremlin for three weeks?”

Still, nothing.

Then, after a pause.

“What the hell is a ‘Whispr’?”

You blinked.

“…What?”

His jaw tensed. “Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not—wait.” You straightened. “You saw it?”

“I didn’t know about it until ten minutes ago when Yeager and Kirstein nearly killed each other laughing outside the janitor’s closet.” He paused. “One of them was reading a post out loud.”

You rubbed your temples. “Please don’t say which one.”

“Miss Maintenance.”

You physically recoiled. “God. That’s so much worse when it comes from your mouth.”

He took a step closer.

“You gonna tell me why half the campus thinks I’ve been sneaking into your lecture hall to screw you over?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you mad about the gossip?”

His gaze pinned you. Sharp. Flat. So perfectly Levi.

“I’m mad that everyone’s talking like they know something I don’t.”

That shut you up.

Because—holy guacamole.

You’d been fine joking about it. Teasing Hange. Rolling your eyes at Connie’s fake whispers in your class. But hearing him say it like that?

Possessive?

That did something dangerous to your spine.

You cleared your throat. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know,” he said simply.

“But?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I liked hearing Sasha say she wants to ‘switch majors and watch us make out.’”

You choked on your laugh, mouth flying open. “She said that?”

“She said it to Miche, of all people.”

“Oh god—no wonder he couldn’t look me in the eye.”

Levi stepped closer again. Just a little. He wasn’t touching you. But the way his eyes lingered now—on your mouth, your neck, the edge of your blouse—it was definitely not neutral.

“I don’t care about the app,” he said. “I care about the fact that I didn’t get to hear you say half that shit to me.”

Your breath caught.

“You wanna flirt? Don’t do it where everyone else gets to enjoy it first.”

Your stomach dropped straight through the floor.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Then you spoke, quiet but steady.

“Then let me say it now.”

Levi’s expression shifted. Slightly. A slow blink. A twitch of his jaw.

You stepped forward, until only a foot of space separated you.

“Every time you walk into a room...” you murmured, "I forget how to act right..."

He didn’t smile. But his breath hitched—just once.

Then he muttered.

“Still not enough.”

Then he turned and walked right out. The door clicked shut. You inhaled then exhaled.

"UGH—"

---

You were halfway through explaining protein synthesis when you saw. the unmistakable posture of students not paying attention.

Connie Springer and Sasha Braus were hunched over a shared notebook in the back row, heads tilted together like they were plotting world domination. Their pens weren’t moving. Their eyes definitely weren’t on the projector screen. And every few seconds, Sasha would nudge Connie and cover her mouth to stifle a laugh.

You paused for a moment mid-sentence, chalk still in hand.

“…which brings us to messenger RNA,” you continued, your voice calm. Measured. Like you weren’t mentally calculating how much detention you were legally allowed to assign in a university setting.

“mRNA is transcribed from DNA in the nucleus—”

Sasha wheezed. Loudly.

Your eyes flicked toward the back row.

She slapped a hand over her mouth. Connie was vibrating in his seat like a child who just discovered what sex is.

You exhaled slowly and turned back to the board.

Be mature. You’re the professor. Don’t let the gremlins win.

You tapped the chalk to the board, continuing, “—then exits into the cytoplasm where ribosomes begin translating the sequence into proteins—”

Behind you, a faint whisper.

“Do you think they’ve kissed yet?”

You froze.

You didn’t move, didn’t react—but your brain slammed into a wall.

Was that… Connie?

Another voice, “Nah. Levi looks like the type to suffer in silence.”

Sasha.

Your grip tightened on the chalk. You weren’t even breathing anymore. Just listening.

“So like…depressing love?”

You closed your eyes for half a second. Steady. Controlled.

The scrape of a chair leg. The rustle of Sasha’s notebook.

Then Connie again, gasping softly. “I bet he doesn’t even know he’s in love yet. He’s probably just like—‘Why do I want to mop this one person’s floors extra good?’”

Oh my god.

You turned around slightly, just enough to glance at them, but they were in full ship-mode now, completely oblivious to how loud they were being.

Sasha leaned in dramatically. “What if they roleplay?! Like—she pretends to spill something and he’s like ‘Tch. Messy,’ and she’s like ‘Clean me, Levi.’”

Your entire body tensed.

The marker slipped from your fingers and hit the floor with a loud clack.

The room went silent.

You turned around slowly. Calm. The picture of professionalism.

“Everything okay back there?” You smiled tightly.

Sasha’s eyes went wide. Connie turned red—like full-face, sunburn-level red.

Sasha scrambled for an excuse. “Yup! Just… mitochondria.”

Connie nodded, doing his best “I’m innocent” face. “They’re the powerhouse of the cell.”

A slow blink. “Right.”

You leaned down, picked up your chalk, and straightened your blouse with a sigh.

“Let’s keep the roleplaying to your dorm rooms, yeah?”

Half the class gasped. The other half laughed way too hard.

Connie and Sasha looked like they were ready to sink through the floor.

You turned back to the board and continued the lesson like nothing had happened.

But internally?

You were screaming.

Because now you were thinking about the mop. And the look Levi had given you the last time he was in your office. And the way his hands looked when they were wrapped around—

“Anyway,” you said louder than necessary, “translation occurs when ribosomes read codons in the mRNA strand, starting with AUG—”

You did not survive a doctorate for this.

But god, were they kind of right.

---

Then you got assigned an intern.

Liam, second-year biology major, GPA solid, energy borderline annoying. He was eager. Bright. A little too eager, honestly. Always volunteering to carry your books, lingering after hours to “go over lab protocol,” asking you questions that had nothing to do with class.

At first, you brushed it off. "He's just trying to break the ice.", you told yourself. You would try your hardest not to seem too interested in what he was doing, but you could tell by his body language, and that grin he always had on his face. Most interns were awkward. Some tried too hard. But Liam? Liam tried really hard.

He’d show up early—armed with coffee, compliments, and a smile so polished it had to be practiced.

“I hope this isn’t weird,” he said once, handing you your preferred iced drink. “But you have, like, main character energy. You know that, right?”

You gave him a bland look. “This main character is grading 37 terrible lab reports on a Friday night.”

He grinned. “Then I’m clearly the love interest.”

You nearly choked on your straw.

But the real problem wasn’t Liam.

The real problem was that Levi saw it all.

You hadn’t known he’d been cleaning the floor outside the lecture hall that day. Or that he’d passed by your office just as Liam leaned across your desk—too close, holding out a folder with a smirk like he was offering more than just extra credit.

Levi had paused outside your door. Stood there. Watched for a beat too long before walking away—fast, stiff, eyes dark with something cold and irritated.

He didn’t say anything. Not then.

But the next time he showed up in your office—under the pretense of "dusting your shelf"—you knew.

“Didn’t know interns came with complimentary flirting now,” Levi muttered, taking out his duster, tools clicking in his hand.

You raised a brow from your seat. “Is this about Liam?”

He didn’t look up. “Tch.”

You smiled. Innocent. “What, jealous of a sophomore?”

“I’m not jealous,” he snapped quickly—too quickly.

You tilted your head, studying him.

“He’s just a kid,” Levi continued, tone clipped. “Doesn’t need to be in your office every damn day.”

“He’s learning,” you said mildly.

“He’s learning your coffee order. And how you laugh. And what perfume you wear.”

That made you pause.

You set down your pen slowly. “Excuse me?”

He finally looked up. Straight at you. His expression unreadable—but his jaw was set, eyes sharp.

“He asked about it,” Levi said. “Two days ago. When you left the room.”

You stared. “You were there?”

“I was working.”

You exhaled through your nose. “And eavesdropping.”

His mouth twitched like he wanted to deny it—but didn’t.

You stood, crossing the room, arms folded.

“And what if I like having someone around who notices those things?”

Something flickered behind his eyes.

“I don’t care if he notices,” Levi said, standing slowly. “I care if you let him think it matters.”

The air thickened.

Your heart thudded.

“You think I’d let a student get that close?” you asked, stepping forward.

He stepped right in front of you. “I think you don’t always see what they’re trying to do.”

“And you do?”

“I’ve seen enough.”

You were close now. Inches away. Tension crackling between you like static.

Then you smiled, slowly.

“You could just say you want to be the one noticing.”

His breath caught.

You leaned up slightly—close enough to whisper:

“Or are you too busy cleaning to care?”

For a second—just one—his control cracked.

Levi’s hand braced the wall beside your head. Not touching you. Not yet. But claiming space.

“I notice everything about you,” he said lowly. “I just don’t say it like some idiot kid trying to impress his TA.”

Silence.

You looked up at him, heart hammering, lips parted—

And then—

A knock.

The door opened an inch. Liam’s voice, cheery as ever.

“Professor? Just dropping off the inventory sheet—”

Levi didn’t move.

His hand still very much cornering you against the wall.

Your face was flushed. His was unreadable.

“Come in,” you said, voice steady.

Levi stepped back, slowly.

But the heat in his eyes hadn’t left.

And Liam? Liam took one look at the tension in the room and called it quits.

“Uh… I can leave it on the desk.”

Smart boy.

---

Liam hadn’t meant to break the internet. He just had a mild panic attack and made the worst possible decision: he posted in the Whispr Discord.

It happened less than twenty minutes after he walked in on you and Levi.

You’d been calm. Unbothered. Professional. Levi, on the other hand, had looked like he was one half-breathed syllable away from pinning you to your office

He dropped the folder and left like the room was on fire.

Which, in a way, it kind of was.

So naturally, he went to the only place a confused, mildly scared intern would turn to in a moment of crisis: The Whispr Discord. Specifically: the #rumors-and-sightings channel.

liambiology02:

i didn’t know Professor [Last Name] and the janitor were like… together???

The server exploded in under 30 seconds.

horseface:

EXCUSE ME????????????

sashasandwhich:

TOGETHER TOGETHER OR “I’M JUST HELPING HER FIX HER FAN AGAIN” TOGETHER???

humanitiescommander:

Please use factual language and avoid libel 🙏

aruminated:

WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. BACK UP. LIAM. WHAT DID YOU SEE.

liambiology02:

idk! nothing happened!! he was just like… really close??? i just felt weird and left i don’t KNOW if they’re together omg

e_revenge:

this is how scandals start and I, for one, am READY

connie_69:

bro Levi prob gave him the look THE look the "I’ve imagined killing you and you wouldn’t even make a sound" look

Meanwhile… you hadn’t seen the chat yet.

You were finishing up your last lecture. Calm. Composed. Unaware.

Until Hange sprinted into your classroom, phone raised like a torch.

“Professor!” they gasped. “You’re trending on the Whispr Discord again. And you didn’t even do anything this time!”

You blinked. “What now?”

They flipped their screen around. Showed you Liam’s message. Then the reactions. Then the floods and floods of messages from basically the WHOLE university.

You stared. Slowly sank into your chair.

“I told you to delete that server...”

“Too late,” Hange grinned. “You and Levi are officially the gossip of the entire STEM department.”

You dragged a hand down your face.

“Does Levi know?”

“No. But he will,” Hange smirked. “Give it about five minutes.”

---

You were heading to your office when you heard it—

“Professor.”

You turned.

Levi was standing in the middle of the hallway like he’d been waiting. Arms crossed, face unreadable, dark eyes locked on yours like he wasn’t letting you pass until you gave him what he wanted.

You blinked. “Hey.”

He didn’t respond at first. Just stared. A muscle jumped in his jaw. His fingers flexed at his sides. You noticed the way his shirt clung to his shoulders, the dust streaked across one forearm, the slight sheen on his skin like he’d just come from fixing something.

“Have you seen it?” he asked finally. Voice low. Controlled. But his eyes? oh you knew you were in for a long one.

Your heart hiccuped. You didn’t need to ask what he meant.

“…Yeah.”

“Liam’s little confession.”

You nodded.

He stepped closer.

“Everyone thinks we’re—” He cut himself off. Jaw clenched. Swallowed the words like they tasted bad.

You tilted your head. Calm. “Together?”

His breath hitched. Just a flicker. But you saw it.

“They’re saying you’re sleeping with me,” he muttered. “That you’re using your position. That I’m just—the janitor.”

You stayed quiet. Let him talk.

“I’ve been hearing it all day,” he said. “Hange, Miche, all of the damn students. Like they know anything. Like they get to decide what this is.”

You folded your arms slowly.

“And what is this, Levi?”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s the problem. You never say.”

“Neither do you.”

Silence.

Then he stepped in. Close. One foot between yours. Voice low. Heat just beneath the surface.

“If you’re not serious, tell me to walk away.”

You inhaled.

“If you don’t want this—me—say it.”

Your lips parted.

But nothing came out.

He searched your face. Tension pulsing off him like heat. Like gravity.

Then—so quietly it barely touched the air—

“But if you do..."

And that broke you.

You reached out. Hand at his collar, fingers brushing the edge of his throat.

“Levi,” you breathed, steady now, “I’m not interested in pretending.”

His jaw twitched.

You stepped closer. So close he had to tilt his head to keep your eyes.

“If they’re going to talk anyway…” Your fingers curled lightly into the fabric at his chest.

“…we might as well give them something to talk about.”

A long beat.

Then he said, rough and low—

“Finally.”

His hands gripped your waist, pulled you flush. His mouth was on yours before the next breath—hot, hungry, all the things he’d been holding back slamming into you at once.

It wasn’t neat. And it definitely wasn’t soft.

It was a week of stolen glances. A month of silent tension. A semester of wanting and not saying a damn word.

The kiss had barely ended, and Levi was already reaching behind you—one hand sliding over your waist, the other twisting the lock on your office door with a quiet click.

It was instinct. Automatic. Like he knew exactly what he needed to do before either of you had the chance to second-guess this. You didn’t pull away. You didn’t blink. You just watched him, your chest rising and falling too fast, heat blooming low and thick under your skin.

“Levi,” you breathed, half-warned, half-melted, “we shouldn’t—”

“You want to stop?” he asked, voice hoarse, already slipping his hand up under your blouse.

You hesitated.

He smirked—barely. “Didn’t think so.”

Then his mouth was back on yours, hungrier this time, less controlled. His hands? Unbelievable. Rough in all the right ways. Not fumbling, not frantic—just confident. Like he knew what you wanted before you could ask for it.

Your back hit the edge of the desk, and Levi didn’t even pause. He lifted you onto it like it was nothing, like you didn’t weigh a damn thing to him. His gloves had been tucked into his back pocket; now they hit the floor with a soft thud as his bare palms slid over your thighs, up under your skirt, dragging heat everywhere they touched.

“You know I’ve thought about this,” he muttered against your neck. “Way too much. Couldn’t stop.”

You gasped as his teeth grazed your skin. “When?”

“First day I saw you,” he said. “Walked right past me after asking me where your lecture hall is. Like you weren’t setting my whole fucking brain on fire.”

You laughed breathlessly, curling your fingers into his shirt. “You glared at me.”

“Yeah,” he said, dragging his hands up your hips, “because I was panicking.”

Then—fabric shifted. Buttons slipped loose. Skin met skin.

You reached down, impatient, undoing your belt. He watched you, eyes dark, jaw tight, like he was barely holding it together.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” you said, teasing.

He leaned in, voice low and brutal in your ear.

“I'm not leaving this office until you can't fucking walk straight.”

And that was it.

Your clothes didn’t come off all at once. They were pulled aside. Pushed up. Wrinkled and messy in the places that mattered. He tasted like mint and frustration and something darker—something needy. Like this wasn’t just lust. Like he’d been starving.

He was rough in the way that made you dizzy, then gentle in the way that made your stomach flip.

You said his name once—softly, breathlessly—and he swore under his breath, pressing his forehead to yours, fingers gripping your thighs like they were the only thing grounding him.

“Say it again,” he whispered. “Say it like your mine.”

"Levi..."

His hands were already on your cilt, rubbing soft but fast circles around it. Your hands slid down to his pants tugging at his belt.

"You want it, baby?" He said, clicking his belt open and pulling it off. You just moaned in response. Could you really help yourself? He was beautiful, long and pink. And the girth was out of this world.

You swear you were a hero in your past life because what the fuck could you have possibly done to deserve this dick?

"Dirty girl..." Levi smirked.

He spun you around, your chest flat against the desk. His hands were on your ass, giving it a few light slaps. Then out of nowhere, he shoves his whole cock right in.

"Oh fuck—"

His thrusts were fast. Levi had waited for this moment, he had dreamed of fucking you, touching you, holding you...and right now he was doing just that.

"So fucking tight f'me babygirl" he grunted.

He can feel you getting close, he was too. Your warm cunt wrapped around his cock was just too much for him to handle.

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

And when you finally came—shaking, breath caught in your throat, his name tangled in it—he didn’t let you go. Not for a second. He kissed you through it, slow, warm, grounding.

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

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

"fuuuck..." he says as he fills you up with his cum.

You two just stayed like that for a few moments, panting, in each other arms. Then you started laughing. And Levi looked completely and utterly confused.

"I-....I cant believe I just did this HA!"

"What."

"Like—you know. Me and You."

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Whateverrr"

"Your fucking crazy."

"Says the one that just fucked me on the desk I grade lab reports."

"Thats different—!"

You guys cleaned up, and you couldn't stop giggling, the color in your cheeks hadn't faded away.

"Im....gonna go now." Levi said.

"So soon?"

But not without pulling your skirt back into place, brushing a kiss against your temple, and muttered something that had definitely sounded like,“Next time, we don’t stop at your desk.” Before saying,

"Yeah, I have better things to do than rage baiting janitors."

"Levi!"

By the time Levi slipped out the hallway, shirt rumpled, cheeks slightly pink. A smudge of lipstick on his neck. Some classes had just ended, students were filing out.

Someone saw Levi outside your office door, looking dazed.

Of course someone saw.

And a picture was posted to Whispr by morning.

Caption?

“The janitor definitely took her to church.”

---

You woke up feeling sore in a way that should’ve been inconvenient—but wasn’t.

There was still a faint ache between your legs. The kind that made you sit a little differently. Walk a little slower. Smirk a little too knowingly when you slipped on your silk blouse and saw the subtle fingerprints blooming across your hips.

You were still thinking about it as you stepped into the faculty lounge with your coffee.

And that’s when it hit.

The energy.

Everyone turned.

Everyone looked.

Sasha’s eyes were the size of dinner plates. Connie dropped his croissant. Jean looked like he’d seen the Virgin Mary herself.

Then—Erwin, seated at the far end of the table, took a long sip of coffee and cleared his throat.

“Morning, Professor.”

You blinked. “Morning.”

Another deliberate sip. Another throat clear.

“Everything… work okay in your office yesterday?”

Hange howled.

You didn’t even blink. You just sipped your coffee and slid into the nearest seat.

“Fine, thanks. Though someone should really check the thermostat. Things got a little warm.”

Erwin coughed. Loud. Nearly choked.

Miche arched a brow like he knew exactly what you were doing.

And Hange? Hange was fully sliding their phone across the table toward you.

📸: A blurry screenshot from Whispr. anonymous: “Maintenance? More like mating-nance 😏”

You blushed furiously.

You just handed the phone back and said, “People need better hobbies.”

Hange grinned, eyes practically glittering. “I mean, you’re a hobby now.”

“Don’t,” you warned.

Miche snorted. Jean cackled.

"Get a life..."

---

Levi was in the library, restocking the cleaning supplies.

He didn’t look up as Armin passed by with a cautious nod. Didn’t react when Eren and Connie peeked around the corner and whispered, “That’s him. That’s himmm.”

But his ears were pink.

Just slightly.

The librarian walked by. Gave him a look. Said, deadpan.

“Rough night?”

Levi stared at her, unimpressed.

“Tch. Shut up.”

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