Professor! Levi Ackerman x fem! Reader
Warnings for BDSM themes, dominant Levi, punishment, edgeplay and orgasm denial, impact play (spanking), restraints, humiliation, crying, degradation, mention of pet play and anal play
>> What are you doing right now?
> Going to get my nails done. Why? Can’t rub one out yourself?
A few minutes pass, but when you look back down at your phone, you have a notification that $70 has been sent to your account. Another text message appears a couple seconds after that.
>> Get a French.
>> Send me your location when you get there. I’m picking you up.
>> And wear those pink panties I bought you.
You were about to leave, but with a soft click of your tongue, you return to your room and search your drawer for the lace baby pink thong Levi bought you as part of a set not too long ago. He never said anything about the top, but you decide to dress yourself in the sheer and frilly babydoll before redressing with your clothes and walking out the door, a heat already blooming below.
> Done. I’m not taking your money though. You’re not my sugar daddy, or my fucking boyfriend
>> Insolent girl
>> If you don’t use it all, you’re getting your ass beat. Choice is still yours. 
-
You don’t use the money, even if a small part of you wanted to, or held onto the gesture and milked it for all it was worth.
Levi should know by now what a masochist you are anyway. But you think he’s well aware of the fact when he dips his fingers under your panties and glides his fingers through your slit.
He shows you your arousal, leaving the soaked gusset bunched against your clit and folds. “All from a few spanks, huh? Should’ve just done what you were told.”
You pry at your wrists bound between your shoulder blades to no avail, not necessarily expecting the leather restraints to give so easily. They’re chained to the matching leather collar wrapped around your neck, so anytime you pull, a tug is incited over the front of your throat that reminds you of his fist squeezing.
Your ass swelters from the impact of his strokes, sometimes switching back and forth over each cheek, other times focusing on a specific area.
When he’s finished, you’re ordered to kneel, and your wrists are brought around to your front, the chain reattached to the front of the collar instead of the back. You can barely reach your panties.
Levi reclines on the couch, crossing one knee over the other. He’s clad in a white dress shirt, slightly disheveled from all your squirming while he spanked you, and a pair of black trousers which cling to him tightly where his cock strains. You know he just came home from a lecture. Maybe his students were misbehaving—you can see in his eyes that he’s fed up with the day.
But you just couldn’t bring yourself to use his money. The gesture is something a boyfriend would do, and as much as you want nothing more, you can’t give into those empty promises. You can’t let him spoil you. You can only let him fuck you as detached as humanly possible, otherwise you won’t be able to do this anymore without feeling sick to your stomach afterwards.
“I’m not going to make you cum,” he says after a second of deep contemplation. He leans his head to one side and taps his fingers over his knee. “You can do it your fucking self, can’t you?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“Good. Now rub your clit. Show me the pretty nails you got today,” he says cooly.
Suddenly you feel like a fool. Levi didn’t want to pay for your nails to act like a boyfriend, but because he wanted you to touch yourself with a specific color. Because he likes the neatness and the simple beauty of a freshly manicured, soft-looking hand. The humiliation burns on your face.
You begin, spreading your legs and pushing your panties to the side before running your fingers through your slit then over your clit. You’re sopping wet, your folds making lewd squelching noises as you mess them together.
“On your back, slut. Nothing goes inside.” He sighs deeply once more, like he’s content and enjoying himself, but also disappointed that the circumstances are different because you misbehaved. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
You murmur out a meek “Yes, sir,” before laying on your back and bending your legs to your chest. You spread them, exposing your cunt, your chin jutting into the air. Your head feels foggy from the pleasure, even if it’s not his fingers bringing you to such a high, but rather his gaze.
“See now why I paid you to get the French, sweetheart? Hm?”
“Yes, sir. You wanted to watch me play with myself with my new nails.”
“Mm-hm. I think next time, we’re going to work on that pride of yours. I don’t believe you should be sitting on such a high horse when you get all wet and achy from a couple of spanks. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m wondering what I’ll buy you with that money now? How about some beads to stuff your ass with? Or should I turn you into a dog considering how much time you spend on your knees already?”
You’re getting closer, and all it takes is him musing to you in a low, nonchalant voice about what he’s going to do to you—in explicit detail. Your cunt is gushing now.
“Sir, can I cum?”
He laughs through his nose. “God, fuck no you can’t. Spank your pussy if you have to, but don’t you dare cum without permission from your master.”
Your eyes full with frustrated tears. “Y-yes, Professor. I’ll be good.”
“Good. That’s what I like to hear. Now keep edging for me, sweetheart.”
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“What part of ‘everything but brain-dead’ didn’t you quite get?”
I was thinking about @singersalvageart ‘s heartbreaking and tragic headcanon that Jon’s heart hasn’t beat since the Unknowing, but I couldn’t help but think of this
[Image ID: A comic featuring Jon and Martin from The Magnus Archives. The first page shows Jon and Martin in bed together, Martin resting his head on Jon’s chest, until he opens his eyes in realization. A close up of his hand with the dialogue “Hey Jon, could I see your hand?” “Hm?” The next page shows Martin carefully holding Jon’s hand. We see them in bed, Martin sitting up, Jon lying down with Martin’s hand around his wrist. We see the dialogue “Jon, I love you but-” “??”. The next page shows a close up of Martin, a worried smile on his face, asking “Where’s your pulse?” A close up of Jon, confused, asking “Pulse?” The next page shows a small more cartoon-y Jon raising a hand to his neck, and going “... Huh.” The next page shows him smiling casually, saying “I guess I don’t have one.” Martin pauses, shocked. The final panel shows Martin with his hands in the air, shouting “Jon, WHAT” with Jon holding a hand to his mouth, and laughing. End ID.]
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