no funny business | levi x reader

eight [nsfw]

Halloween falls on a Wednesday, and apparently it's a huge office event. When you were leaving work on the Tuesday night before, Hange had already started decorating. You'd watched in interest as they'd unlocked one of the cabinets and pulled out a department store's worth of candy and decorations. "I had to wait until Sasha left," they'd explained with a grin, "or else none of this candy would be here for tomorrow."

"Do you need me to bring anything?"

"Nope! Just dress up!" Hange chirps, pulling out several orange and black candy bowls. Is that drawer endless? "And go all out! Everyone else does!"

So you'd raided the local dollar store on Tuesday night and woken up extra early on Wednesday morning to get yourself ready. You'd decided to go simple: a devil. It's a classic, but it also allows you to mix and match something red and black from your wardrobe. You'd bought a headband with devil horns, a pitchfork, and a cape, and you pick out the set of black pumps from your closet that you haven't worn since your night at the club.

Black slacks and a red, long-sleeved collared shirt later, you're dolled up in front of your mirror and feeling really damn good. "I look hot," you say to yourself, turning in a circle. With the cape and horns, you pass for a sexy devil while still being work appropriate. 

You pile the other tops and bottoms you'd tried on into your arms and go back to your closet, carefully putting them all away. You pick up your heels and a flash of something red in the deepest part of your closet catches your eyes.

"I missed something?" you muse, tugging at the fabric.

It's your dress- your red dress that you'd worn to the club what feels like ages ago, when you'd hooked up with Levi. "Oh," you sigh, holding it up in front of you. It's such a nice dress.

Your encounter with Levi from last Friday is still fresh in your mind. You trail your fingers along your neck, remembering where his lips were.

"Fuck it," you decide.

Five minutes later, you're in your red dress- paired with a black blazer and then black tights, you've still got to stay somewhat work appropriate- and you look hot as hell. With your black heels, plus the cape and horns, you're toeing the line between an office party costume and a club costume, but you know Levi's going to notice. He'll notice the dress.

He will, you tell yourself, checking out your ass in the mirror. He'll definitely notice.

.

Levi has his head down in his reports when there's a knock on his office door. He hears your voice call, "tea."

"Yeah," he replies.

The door opens, and his eyes flick up and back down to his reports, and then up again.

What the hell are you wearing?

Dear fucking lord, it's that dress. It's that damn red dress that hugs your curves perfectly and, he notices as you shut the door, it frames your ass even better than it had on that night in the bar. Is that even possible? He really should take his eyes off of you, he should, but he wants to imprint the image of you into his brain.

You smile- god, you're wearing red lipstick, Levi's going to have an aneurysm- and lean in to set his tea down. "Peppermint," you say, and Levi refuses to let his eyes fall to your cleavage.  "Happy Halloween, sir. What's your costume?"

Somehow, he manages to get his tongue to work and says, "I don't dress up."

"Ah." You straighten up again. The effort to physically drag his eyes away from your form and to his reports feels much more painful than it should be.