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corner-stories · 1 month

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I wanna Captain and Commander bath time fic! Pretty please…???

(ao3.) <- fic can also be read here!

There are days where her title feels more like a persona, a façade, a mere costume she dons every morning. Yet the mask cannot slip, as the Scouts will always need the venerable Captain Ackerman.

So her face remains as stoic when she debriefs her squad, discussing the finer points of their role in the next expedition. Even in the moments where Sasha does the speaking, Mikasa sits back and allows her Vice Captain to do so, knowing that getting the information across should be the highest priority.

When the meeting ends the mask still does not slip, the Captain simply salutes Squad Ackerman before moving onto the next beast.

Mikasa meets Armin at the main training grounds of the HQ, where they are to observe some of the newer members of the Legion practicing the time-tested maneuvers of the Scouts.

As of lately the recruitment numbers have stagnated, neither rising nor falling in the last year. Although such a factoid should not be a priority for a person in her position, Mikasa cannot help but dwell on it, especially as she watches the newbies soar across the sky. Even with Jean and Armin's new riding formations, she can't help but wonder how long each soldier will last — which she knows is such a horrible thing to think of regarding a human being who’s helping humanity’s cause, yet the thought always persists.

Even on the days where humanity gains a bit more territory outside of their walls, not every Scout makes it back unscathed. Even when hope can be seen on the horizon, Mikasa is still helping Jean fill out paperwork regarding those who have perished, writing letters to loved ones and promising that they fought honourably, even to the bitter end.

When Mikasa leaves the training grounds she does so with a heavy heart, all while reminding herself to not let her persona falter.

After a dinner where Sasha chats her ear off, Mikasa decides to turn in early for the night. She walks across the torch-lit courtyard and sees the typical sight of the Commander's office window. It's illuminated by candle flame, allowing her to see the outline of Jean at his desk. He is processing paperwork and letters like it's his god given duty, utilizing the fancy dip pen Armin had gifted him a few birthdays ago. It's safe to assume that he's been there all day, which is — unfortunately — quite typical for him.

Mikasa contemplates visiting his office, as the space has always been welcoming to her even after hours. But all day she had been yearning for something she can only find in her private quarters, so with that in mind she keeps moving towards her initial intentions.

She arrives at her room and shuts the door. No time is spared before she sheds her boots, scarf, and jacket. She heads to the bathroom and immediately begins running a hot bath, a perk of her position that she is admittedly very fond of.

As the faucet runs she undoes her ponytail, habitually avoiding her bathroom mirror in fear of what she'll see. The bags under her eyes from the sleepless nights? The melancholic air that the supposedly fearless Captain can never shake away? The burden and weight of humanity’s hope on her shoulders?

There are days where she reminds herself that if she doesn't fight she can't win — but there are also days where she needs to remind herself to just breathe.

Mikasa removes the rest of her uniform and folds it neatly to the side, then climbs into the bath and sinks into the warmth. Some of her joints crack and pop as she settles in the water, the heat of which alleviates her muscles and causes her to let out a sigh.

Today is not remotely as taxing as it could have been, yet the change in sensation soothes the tension she didn't know she had been carrying. She closes her eyes as she leans against the back of the tub, trying her best to focus on the heat she's been enveloped into.

In the next few moments she drifts in and out of sleep, never truly nodding off yet managing to spend seconds where all she can focus on is her breathing. She's not sure how much time passes when she hears the muffled sound of a door opening.

Even if all she can hear is his footsteps in the main bedroom, she can already envision it — Jean entering her space like he's always belonged there, him habitually looking around to find her, then him slowly approaching the bathroom.

She shifts in the tub and the water sloshes around, then in no time Mikasa's beloved Commander opens the door.

He looks a little less well-kept than he had been this morning. Strands of his once-slicked hair have fallen out of place, the top few buttons of his shirt are undone, and absence of his jacket and bolo tie is hard to ignore. At least he smiles once he sees the Captain in the bathtub, though perhaps not for the reasons one would immediately assume.

"Hey."

Mikasa lets out a quiet sigh before sitting up in the tub. Her facial expression remains unchanged and stony, yet she can't deny that she's relieved to see him.

"Hi," she greets back, and the way she speaks is akin to a whisper.

Jean steps into the steamy room and closes the door. To the surprise of no one he notices the gloominess clouding the Captain's disposition, which is not unusual for her but he can’t stop himself from worrying.

"You alright?" he asks, concerned.

Mikasa nods her head, yet has to stop herself from replying with her usual lie of "I'm fine" because Jean never lets her get away with saying it. Sometimes it's frustrating how he'll do so, how he won't accept the phrase she uses to hide whatever she's truly feeling, how he may even prod at her to find out what’s truly wrong. But on the other hand his intentions are always good, preferring to find the root of the problem instead of beating around the bush. He's always been fond of honesty, even more so in regards to a person being honest to themselves.

So instead, Mikasa tells him —

"There's a lot on my mind."

And technically speaking, it’s far from a lie.

Jean raises an eyebrow as he lowers himself to the floor, getting himself into a familiar position. He sits on the spot next to the tub so that his handsome face is in perfect proximity to hers. He leans his arm against the vessel’s edge and the only thing between them is a short copper wall.

"Like what?" Jean asks, managing a smile.

The way he looks at her is so tender. She often wonders how he manages it, as she's sure that she resembles an absolute mess when soaked in her own bathwater.

Her eyes drift to his forearm, the one resting on the edge of the tub. His shirt sleeve is rolled up, revealing just a fraction of the marks he's collected over the years. Absent-mindedly she reaches to him, gently running her wet thumb over a bit of scar tissue, a spot where his skin is slightly uneven, and he lets her.

"Like..." she starts, trying to think of the right thing to say. She takes in a breath and pulls her knees up to her chest. "...how I should probably wash my hair."

Jean lets out a chuckle and reaches for her. His thumb and index finger find a loose wet strand near her ear and very carefully pinches it. For hands that she knows can maim and attack, hands that she’s seen covered in blood and much worse, he's exceedingly gentle with her.

"You've got your priorities straight, Captain."

And for the first time of the day she feels the urge to smile, even if it's small and weighed down by the burden of their lives.

The water is still warm and the bath is heavenly, yet Mikasa can only focus on her Commander and his pretty eyes. She reaches for the hand that's touching her hair, her thumb feeling another scar that's been on his palm for the last few years. She's gentle when she brings it to her lips, carefully kissing the mark as if the wound is fresh.

Jean returns the gesture, delicately pulling her hand close enough to him to kiss the back of it. She can't help but smile as his short beard tickles her skin.

"It's late," her Commander soon says, squeezing her hand with affection and care. He places another kiss onto her knuckles. "I'm gonna head to bed."

He stands up, yet as he gets onto his feet Mikasa doesn't let go of his hand.

Confused, Jean looks down. She avoids his gaze, but she continues to hold him. She's still leaning against the edge of the tub, her free hand grasping it tight.

There is a beat until she asks —

"...think you can stick around?"

Another beat follows, then a slightly mischievous smile comes onto Jean's face. Without hesitation he steps into the bathtub, boots and clothes and all.

It takes Mikasa a few seconds to realize what's going on. Soon the water is rising, where it arrives at the edge and falls to the floor. She can't fight the amusement on her face as she backs up, pulling her knees a bit closer to her chest to give him room.

When she looks at Jean he is still smiling down at her. Soon he is on his knees, ignoring the way the water keeps spilling or soaking into his trousers. He plants both hands on the edges of the tub to brace himself before moving towards her.

Their lips meet and Mikasa's hand goes up, lovingly pressing her palm against her Commander's cheek. She's unashamed, unbound by their status and safe in his atmosphere, deepening their kiss as her forehead brushes against his.

When Jean pulls away from her he straightens up slightly. He’s kneeling in the limited space of the tub, water continuing to seep into his clothes and especially into his shirt, a detail which Mikasa observes very disrespectfully. He works at the buttons of the garment before pulling it off and dropping it to the floor.

And Mikasa watches in anticipation, unabashedly admiring the way droplets dribble down his chest and abdomen. He reaches down to work at his trousers — when it takes a second too long he suddenly realizes that some elements of his gesture had not been thought through. His eyebrows knit in frustration as he also realizes that removing his boots in such a position will prove difficult as well.

"Ah, fuck..."

"Kiss me," Mikasa says, tugging at Jean's hand to bring him back down to her. “Just kiss me.”

Jean obliges, moving towards her despite how ridiculous he must appear when sharing a tub with her. Their foreheads brush again, but this time Jean holds himself there, only for a second. He keeps his eyes open and affixed to hers, hazel meeting dark gray. Soon he smiles again before pressing his lips against hers.

And Mikasa embraces him, letting him get close to her while moving her hands upwards. She deepens their kiss, letting her mouth open just enough to taste him. Her fingernails fervently press into his back, all while even more water spills onto the floor.

#jeankasa #jeanmika #jean kirschtein #jean kirstein #mikasa ackerman #commander jean kirschtein #captain mikasa ackerman #commander kirschtein #captain ackerman #snk #au

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fangirling-tussisque-noncaelatur · 2 years

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Hanji: That building is, like, 5 Levi away and we're at least 14 Levi high.

Levi: Please don't use me as a system of measurement.

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 6 months

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levi fucking "spends post-war free time handing out candy to kids" ackerman

#I'M NOT OKAY #AHHHHHHHHHHHHH #screaming #i love him sm im sobbing #dadvi fuel #aot spoilers #snk spoilers #my gifs #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

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0zeeraa0 · 10 months

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I will defend them with my life

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thena0315 · 6 months

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The First Time We Saw Levi in Battle (2013)

The Last Time We'll See Levi in Battle (2023)

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #captain levi #humanity's strongest soldier #the strongest titan slayer that ever existed #shingeki no kyojin #snk levi #aot levi

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leviismybby · 7 months

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Levi's eyes in season 4 hold so much emotion 🤍

#levi #levi ackerman #aot levi #captain levi #attack on titan #levi attack on titan #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi season 4 #aot season 4 #attack on titan levi #attack on titan season 4

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levishart · 14 days

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Guys I'm sobbing he has his mom's smile.

levination i'm not okay

#levi ackerman #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #captain levi #levi #badboy #levi bad boy

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kenm4vhs · 6 months

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POST WAR!LEVI ACKERMAN YOU’LL ALWAYS BE THE PRETTIEST

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daemontargaryenwhore · 10 days

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He couldn't afford to lose another kid knowing he's going to lose one just for the battle to end.

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shewolfofficial · 29 days

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we moved on from this official art too fast.

HE LOOKS SO SOFT

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #snk #aot #captain levi #anime #shingeki no kyoujin

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levitonin · 2 months

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How do I fill the void

You left in me for eternity

Tell me how many times

Do I start over again

#levi #leviackerman aot #attack on titan #levi ackerman #captain levi #levi aot #levi attack on titan #aot attackontitan captianlevi #levi art

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corner-stories · 2 months

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oblivion is all you crave

Captain Mikasa Ackerman. Commander Jean Kirschtein. Offices. Couches. Late Nights. Eventual Smut. 3473 words. (ao3.) <- full tags in the link

In between expeditions, the Scouts make use of what time they have. They often spend the daylight hours maintaining equipment, tending to horses, or training, but come the night they are left to their own devices. Their options are often scant, but soldiers can be found exploring the nearby village for a taste of normalcy or resting in the barracks, enjoying any sense of comfort while they still can.

But certain Scouts are not given the same luxury, some are given tasks that keep them up into the final throes of the night. It’s a burden of their status, a duty delegated to those who’ve made it this far and a responsibility that must be embraced.

So when the sun sets Captain Ackerman walks across the courtyard and looks up, noticing a light in the Commander’s office. From where she is she can recognize Jean and Armin’s silhouettes as they stand over his desk. Armin appears to be rambling while Jean stands tall, keenly listening to his Section Commander’s every word. Mikasa can already envision what map of the outside world they’re toiling over, what new riding formations they’re concocting as they plan the next expedition.

The two have been doing this for the last few years, putting in the tedious grunt work if it means that humanity will take another step forward — powered by nothing but sheer tenacity and the numerous cups of tea. She’s always admired their diligence, even when their ambitions cause them to hole up in Jean’s office for an entire day.

Mikasa heads to the mess hall, where she takes her dinner in a room reserved for the Veteran Scouts. The only person joining her tonight ends up being Sasha. Mikasa is never bothered by the presence of her Squad Vice Captain, even on the nights where she doesn’t say much and her old friend seems determined to chat her ear off. The topics of their conversations are rarely serious — ranging from harmless gossip to the quality of their bread. Apparently, an invention by the name of ‘brioche’ is sweeping the nation and the Scouts are fortunate enough to enjoy a roll at every meal.

Once the dinner is over Mikasa makes the short walk from the mess to the east wing of the HQ, where the private quarters of the Veterans are. She ascends a familiar flight of stairs, then on instinct decides to enter a hallway several floors underneath her own, an area that she only ever traverses during the day. She has a hunch, and when she comes across the closed entrance of the Commander’s office said hunch is proved right.

The light in the gap between the door and the floor tells her enough. She wastes no time and enters the room without even knocking.

Jean’s office is quiet at this time of night, a fairly cozy room lit by the warm glow of lanterns and candles. The furniture inside is certainly nothing to write home about — a couch, a few chairs, some bookshelves, a table, and of course, the place where most of the work gets done.

The Commander himself sits at his desk, his elbow propped on the surface with his hand on his cheek. He looks thoroughly unamused with his current task, a perfect meeting point between exhausted and bored.

“Good evening, Commander,” Mikasa greets. She retains a sense of poise as she walks into the room, the distinct equanimity expected of her position.

Jean straightens his back in an attempt to look productive. “As to you, Captain.”

He goes back to dipping his pen into an inkwell, raking his fingers through his hair as writes on a piece of paper. Mikasa walks over quietly, the leather of her boots quietly tapping the wooden floor. When she arrives at his desk she stands over her Commander, her eyes immediately going to the unruly state of his hair, then to what he’s currently drafting.

“What are you working on?”

“I’m finally replying to Brzenska’s letter,” Jean answers. His handwriting has always been on the neater side, gentle strokes creating clean, smooth lines on the stationary. In moments he finishes his current paragraph and inks his signature at the bottom. He takes the letter off the desk and holds it up to her.

“Be honest, how does this make me sound? I was going for ‘worldly.’”

Mikasa takes the paper gently, reading the neatly printed paragraph as she steps towards Jean. A Captain’s elegance slips away from her once she sits on her Commander’s lap, a position they’ve been in countless times before. She goes over his writing as Jean relaxes against her touch. She feels one of his hands touching her thigh while his arm snakes around her waist, holding her close to him. The chair underneath them both is wooden and sturdy, though it creaks slightly under their combined weight.

Paperwork tends to be the most boring part of being a Veteran Scout, but at least Jean’s letter is succinct and honest. It is a simple reply to the Garrison’s Commander regarding their next meeting with Zackly. Jean’s always been straightforward and it shows in his prose, though Mikasa’s unsure if “worldly” is the best way to describe such an uncomplicated message.

“It’s just a letter, Jean,” Mikasa tells him. She puts the paper down, then moves an arm around his shoulder to better steady herself. “I’m sure Brzenska will be happy that you replied.”

Jean lets out an anxious huff. “But what if she’s not?”

Mikasa gives him a quizzical look. It seems that the last few years of commanding the Scouts has done nothing to quell the jitters he feels in the presence of Commander Brzenska. He’s faced numerous Titans, hordes of abnormals, and much worse, yet it’s the sight of Rico’s icy stare that sends shivers down his spine.

“What is it about her, Jean?” Mikasa asks. “She’s an entire head shorter than you.”

“It’s her eyes,” he explains, his agitation persisting. For a moment he appears to be reminiscing, the image of Rico’s inhumanely pale baby blues never leaving his head. “They’re just… eerie.”

Mikasa hums, amused — even after all these years Jean still finds ways to surprise her.

Her hand moves up to find his hair, her gentle fingers grazing at his nape. In the morning she had witnessed him using a jar of pomade to craft the perfect side part, meticulously greasing and combing each strand until it remained in place — because apparently Sasha needs more reason to keep calling him “Commander Peacock.”

But now his hair is a tousled mess, the hours of paperwork having taken its toll. Though Mikasa would be lying if she said that she didn’t enjoy him looking scruffy and unkempt.

Minutes ago they were Captain and Commander — two Veteran Scouts tasked with humanity’s expeditions outside of the walls. But now the mask is allowed to fade, leaving Mikasa and Jean in the wake, letting them exist as mere lovers enjoying the other’s atmosphere.

As Mikasa plays with his hair Jean leans into her touch, letting out a soft sigh as her hand continues to roam over his scalp. He closes his eyes and allows himself to delight in the sensation.

Soon Mikasa reaches over with her free hand and touches his chin with the tip of her finger, moving his face upwards as she closes the space between him and her.

There’s always a sense of tenderness when he kisses her — a softness, a sweetness, a reminder that not every part of their world is cruel.

“You weren’t at dinner,” Mikasa whispers, now using both her hands to cup his face as her lips trail over his cheeks.

“I know.” Jean’s arms are around her waist now, anchoring her as the pressure between them builds. “I’m sorry.”

Mikasa smiles against his skin, slowly moving her mouth towards his neck. “Don’t worry about it.”

They shift slightly in what little space the chair gives them, her jacket coming off then followed by his. Mikasa’s hands find the buttons of his shirt and begin tugging, an action that makes Jean smirk.

“Eager are we, Captain?”

Mikasa hums and shuts him up with a kiss. She lets herself savor him, everything from the oily scent of his pomade to the taste of his lips.

It’s far from the most indecent thing they’ve ever done in his office, but the action feels hindered by the lack of space. With neither of them being small by any means, Jean feels an excess of weight pushing against his torso as he leans back in the chair.

Mikasa finishes unbuttoning his shirt when she hears him mumble between their kisses.

“Uh… careful.”

Mikasa pulls away and looks him in the eye. For a beat their gazes meet, then Jean lets out a chuckle.

“It’d be embarrassing as shit if we fell, would it?”

Her face is flushed as she nods. It’d be even more embarrassing if the sound of the two tumbling startled everyone else in the east wing. Their relationship may be an open secret, but neither of them are keen on giving Sasha even more ammunition to tease them with during meetings.

“It would,” Mikasa agrees, nodding, then moves off her Commander’s lap.

She doesn’t stand up straight, her hands remaining on Jean’s shoulders to keep him in the chair. She catches the look in his eyes, an expression of satisfaction and amusement that arises when she takes control. The forcefulness to her movements tell him all he needs to know. He smirks as he watches her go, and to that Mikasa can feel the blush on her face getting just a bit redder.

Her eyes go down, staring at his unbuttoned shirt, how the material lazily drapes over his muscled torso, and the way he seems to be sprawled on the chair now that he’s got more room. When her gaze meets the bulge on his trousers her heart begins to beat a little bit faster.

A few seconds of silence follow, in which Jean notices the slight hesitation in her eyes. He ends up breaking the tension with his words.

“Uh… we can just-”

But before he can finish his sentence she’s on her knees, pressing her lips to his stomach and causing a sudden gasp to escape his throat. Immediately she begins teasing him, slowly dragging her kisses lower. It doesn’t take long before she hears Jean’s breathing get louder. As she continues her descent she can feel his legs fidget and shift, the temptation for him to start moving his hips already surging through his veins.

Soon she undoes his belt and tugs at his trousers, the mere gesture causing him to let out a sharper breath. He holds the armrests of the chair, his fingers pressing hard against the wood.

“Fuck…”

She shifts the material down slightly, revealing his cock still bound by his undergarments. But instead of removing those as well, Mikasa’s instincts tell her to keep toying with him.

So she presses her lips against him, gently kissing his length through the fabric before looking up to gauge his reaction.

The sound Jean lets out is labored and strained. She can see his chest rising and falling as he looks back down at her, their eyes meeting for a brief second.

She’s never been able to explain why, but the sight of Jean Kirschtein on edge has never ceased to please her. A sense of confidence always fills her when she brings him to such a state, when she reduces him to putty with the right stroke of her hand or kiss of her lips.

So Mikasa pecks him again, gently peppering his erection with little touches, the thin layer of fabric being the only thing that keeps them apart. There’s even a point where she attempts to take him into her mouth, as much as she can given the limitations, trailing her lips against the length of his cock. Every kiss and hum either makes Jean grunt or slowly move his hips. He goes in between muttering her name and cursing to a god she knows he doesn’t believe in.

For the last few moments he’s been hesitant to touch her, letting her work and tease him while his hands grip the armrests even harder. But soon Jean reaches down and Mikasa feels his hands touching her face, gently tipping her chin upwards to look at him.

“Are you trying to drive me crazy?” he asks. He’s panting stupidly, yet there’s an unmistakable smile on his handsome face.

Mikasa is beaming, pleased with the state she’s brought him to. “Why don’t you find out?”

…

They move from his desk to the couch and make good use of the extra room. Their clothes are strewn carelessly on the floor, having been thrown off in the heat of passion, and the curtains of the office have been pulled over the windows.

Mikasa braces herself. She grasps the armrest of the couch, her face contorting with pleasure and a groan escaping her throat with every thrust. Jean is behind her, one hand is holding her waist while the other is at her hair, pulling her head back slightly as he works. Their momentum is a constant force, his hips meeting her body and briefly becoming flush with her rear end. Every once in a while he’ll let out a curse, or her name, or a grunt as his grasp tightens.

Moments pass, then soon Mikasa feels compelled to look over her shoulder the best she can, briefly meeting her lover’s glassy gaze.

“Faster,” she whispers fervently, and he spares no time in executing her command.

Droplets of sweat move down Jean’s forehead as their rhythm intensifies, their pleasure crescendoing with every jut of his hips. He shifts downwards slightly, his torso becoming more parallel to hers as his hands move forward — they go to the armrest, his fingers interlocking with hers as their momentum continues. His breath is hot against her ear as he exhales.

And together they reach their peak. The curse he nearly shouts is louder than the last and she’s too preoccupied to remind him to be quiet. Mikasa’s grip on the couch intensifies as an unbridled groan escapes her lips. Her taut muscles slacken slightly, then she lets herself fall forward on the cushions and rests her face on a pillow. She sinks her teeth into the fabric to help silence her wails and moans. Jean tries to keep up his pace, using whatever’s left in him to keep thrusting his hips forward. Moments pass and he eventually rides out the final throes of his climax until he’s finally spent.

Once he’s finished Jean collapses onto her, exhaling loudly as his cheek presses against the skin between her shoulder blades.

“Oh my god…” is all Mikasa can say between her ragged breaths, and to that Jean lets out a chuckle.

“Yeah, I know.”

They stay like this for a while, Mikasa settling onto the couch as she feels Jean’s weight on top of her, a familiar sensation that always soothes her. Her breathing is as heavy as his, but he manages to collect himself just enough to press his lips to her back, practically savoring the taste of her skin before moving up to push his face to the crook of her neck.

A content smile tugs at her lips as his short beard nuzzles her. Her hair is a mess and slicked with sweat, but she can’t find it in herself to care.

A minute passes before Mikasa untangles himself from him, slipping out from underneath Jean and standing from the couch. She takes a second to stretch before walking barefoot across his office, grabbing his shirt off the floor and pulling it over her torso. As she fastens the buttons she turns back to see Jean still on the cushions — he is resting face down, bare and spent in the afterglow.

After looking respectfully for long enough, Mikasa goes to one of the shelves behind his desk. She retrieves a bottle of amber liquid as well as a glass, a luxury he keeps hidden behind the books. She pours herself a modest serving before walking back to Jean.

She ends up sitting in front of the couch, her knees tucked to her chest as she faces him. She allows him to rest for a bit longer as she enjoys her first sips of the drink — she’s not usually one to partake in brandy, but in moments like this she swears that it tastes as sweet as honey.

Mikasa takes in her Commander, observing the angular edges of his face or how a bout of lovemaking always dishevels his hair to tantalizing perfection. His face is buried in the pillow she sank her teeth into. She wonders if he’s already fallen asleep, but soon he lifts his head up and looks at her in amusement.

Mikasa takes another sip of brandy before offering the glass to him. With a smile he accepts, propping himself on his elbow with one arm before taking the drink.

“Thank you, l’amour.”

When he finishes a pull he lets out a hum, allowing the flavor of distilled wine to settle on his tongue for a moment before swallowing.

“This is good shit,” he says, handing the glass back. “Why don’t we drink it more often?”

Mikasa smirks. “Because you’re the one insisting we save it for the right occasion.”

“So what does that make this?” Jean teases, nudging her with his elbow. “A Tuesday night?”

Instead of gratifying that with a response, she leans over and pecks him on the cheek, then on the lips. He reciprocates, kissing her back open mouthed, as if to enjoy her taste for a little longer.

When they break apart Mikasa feels him pressing his forehead against hers. She closes her eyes and revels in his warmth. Now that they’re no longer using the couch for an unintended purpose, the air in his office begins to feel a lot colder.

“Do you think we could negotiate a few days off?” she finds herself whispering — prompted by the way her mind tends to wander in moments like this, when both of them are unbound by their titles and allowed to be free. “Maybe in a month or two?”

Jean grins as his fingers begin to play with her hair. “So we can do this all the time?”

Despite the events of the last few minutes, a distinct blush creeps onto Mikasa’s face. She avoids his eyes for a second, a new variety of possibilities now dancing in her head. The mere idea of carrying out their usual endeavors for more than a single night is rather enticing. For once she could fall asleep in his arms and not worry about the reality they’ll wake up to, only if for a moment.

Scouts like them rarely get any time to themselves, meaning that a majority of her encounters with him are left to befall in the off-hours. To have a whole weekend to themselves is something she craves. She can’t even remember the last time she felt comfortable enough to hold his hand in public, or the last time she danced in his arms at a tavern, her limbs feeling light from her fourth flagon of ale.

As her mind toys with more and more prospects, Mikasa regains herself and retains a playful tone when she replies —

“Only if you’re up for it.”

Jean lets out a chuckle just before she pecks his lips again.

A few minutes pass and Mikasa goes back to nursing her drink, taking it in with slow sips. Once the glass is empty she stands up again, affectionately ruffling Jean’s hair before putting the glass and bottle back in its hiding spot.

When she looks over to Jean he’s finally prying himself off the couch, getting himself into a sitting position before standing. He goes to his discarded trousers and grabs them off the floor. On habit, Mikasa admires the shape of his hindquarters as he pulls the garment onto his long, shapely legs. Even with the scars littering his chest and back — souvenirs from their decade of service — she still has moments where she can’t take her eyes off of him.

“We should get cleaned up,” Mikasa soon says, reaching for her clothing as well.

“Your place or mine?” Jean asks, smirking. He can always tell when she’s looking disrespectfully.

“Yours,” Mikasa answers, grabbing her boots off the floor. “The bathtub’s bigger.”

She doesn’t even need to clarify that they’ll be bathing together — at this point in their entanglement neither can imagine things being a different way, no matter who’s quarters they retire to.

Jean walks over to press one more kiss to her forehead. “Whatever you say, l’amour.”

#jeankasa #jeanmika #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein #mikasa ackerman #snk #commander jean #captain mikasa #commander kirschtein #captain ackerman #there's plot to this series i swear

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gojoforever69 · 2 months

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This was Megumi’s perspective when he first met Gojo. 😭😭

#gojo satoru #jjk #jjk megumi #anime #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #meme #another tall meme I’m sorry 😭😭#levi aot #levi attack on titan #attack on titan #levi ackerman #captain levi #shorty Levi #got to bring the short king once in a while

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 6 months

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i'm cRYING DONT TOUCH ME

#my gifs #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk #aot spoilers #snk spoilers

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l3visthighs · 1 month

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girl dinner

#still lose my mind every time I come across these in my camera roll #he’s so djendkemdjdxj #levi ackerman #attack on titan #captain levi #levi #leviackerman #snk levi #snk #shinjeki no kyojin #love of my liiiiiiiiife

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peachdues · 2 months

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Levi Ackerman can and will blow your back out, but he’s also the type to lean in and press his lips hard against your forehead when you’re in the middle cumming so prettily for him.

He has your legs bent and nearly pinned to your ribs beneath the solid mass of his body. His arms are braced on either side of your head, one hand loosely fisted into your hair to make sure you keep your eyes on him and him alone. Every bit of his weight bears down into you, and it strikes you that between the fullness you feel from his cock and the pressure of his body against yours means there is no part of you that isn’t being thoroughly and completely consumed by him.

He curls one arm over your head, caging you in against the pillow while the other shoves between your sweat-slickened bodies. You think he means to play with your clit, but instead his hand presses firmly against your lower stomach as he continues hammering into you, allowing the blunt head of his cock to push repeatedly against that spot deep within that makes your vision turn white and your toes curl.

“There you are — oh,” he smirks at how you begin trembling beneath him, and the vibrations of your body only magnify as he rubs his hand in time with each hard grind of his hips as his cock continues bullying deeper and deeper into your soaking heat. “That’s the spot, huh, pretty girl?”

His smug, mocking smirk is a front; you know it by the way the muscles in his shoulders tense, signaling he’s summoning every bit of his own will power to fight off his own release, far too invested in savoring yours.

You’re also trying to hold on, and he knows that; he can sense it in the way your nails bite into his back, can see it in how your teeth sink into your plump bottom lip.

You want to cum — badly. And he’s more than eager to see you fall apart.

A growl, low and possessive builds in his throat. “Go on then — be a good girl and give me what I want.”

He gives another sharp, pointed thrust of his hips, burying himself all the way to his hilt before grinding against you, hard. “Let go,” he orders, his voice firmer and you know the leash he has on his own restraint is rapidly fraying.

Levi exhales a quiet swear of relief when he feels your cunt finally seize around him like a vice, and he is transfixed by broken staccato of his name that falls from your pretty lips as your climax washes over you like a wave. A surge of pride wells in his chest at how you manage to keep your eyes locked with his, even though he knows your instinct is to let them roll back into your head as you float among the clouds of pleasured bliss only until he can reach in and haul you back down to earth.

“Atta girl,” he coos, and the pace of his hips slow from those relentless, bruising thrusts to a gentle canting, each roll into your heat deep and purposeful. Then, he feels a surge of your wetness gush over him, dampening the coarse hairs of his base as the walls of your cunt continue to flutter and pulse around him, and Levi somehow finds himself becoming even more smitten with you than he already is. “Oh — it’s a big one, isn’t it?”

And when you look up at him with those big eyes of yours — wide and sparkling with tears of pleasure and exhaustion- and you nod, lower lip quivering, Levi can’t help but lean forward to press his lips to your forehead, as he continues fucking you through your high.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your damp forehead, his groin churning torturously against yours. “Good fucking girl, cumming for me like this.”

Each grind of his coarse base right against your clit sends sparks additional waves of electrifying pleasure rocking through you until your legs are twitching and spasming beneath him. But Levi only chuckles, the sound dark and rich and so distinctly him.

He continues to guide you through the dizzying ripples of your orgasm, and when the last, gentle wave flickers out like a candle flame, Levi imparts one, final kiss against your forehead.

And then he pulls back, but he is not finished — no where near it, in fact. One by one, your legs are pushed over his shoulders until your knees are pressed to your chest, and his lips curl into something between a grin and a sneer.

He leans down and presses his mouth to the shell of your ear, and you’re not sure whether it’s the heat or his breath or the severity of his promise that sends an excited chill down your spine as he hisses, “My turn.”

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