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debussy42 · 5 months ago

Text

"straight or curly?"

Guys, I'm not gonna lie. This whole nonsense started with me just debating whether or not I should straighten or curl my hair today. Wow, I miss my man Levi. Maybe it's with Valentine's day coming up, but I needed some emotionally charged, dancing, jealousy, barely restrained Levi in my life. Hope y'all enjoy ◡̈

wc: 8k WHEWWWWWWW

"Sasha. Mikasa. Should I straighten my hair today, or curl it? It's the weekend, and I want to try something new."

Mikasa, already dressed and pulling on her boots, barely glances up before saying, “Straight.”

Sasha, who’s still lounging on her bed with no urgency whatsoever, tilts her head in thought. “Curl it. It looks cuter that way.”

You hum, turning back to the mirror, lightly running your fingers through your hair. “Hmm. Mikasa, why straight?”

She shrugs. “It’s easier.”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but it’s the weekend. Don’t you want to, I don’t know, do something fun with it?”

You smirk at their contrast and tap your fingers against the wooden vanity. “Jean’s going to say straight. Connie’s going to say whatever makes me look stupid.”

Mikasa ties her scarf, uninterested. “Jean will say whatever makes you look ‘mature.’”

Sasha snorts. “He’s been watching too many noblewomen walk through town.”

You shake your head, grinning at their banter, then turn back to the mirror. “Alright, decision made.”

Mikasa raises a brow. “Which one?”

You give a dramatic pause before flashing them a mischievous grin. “I’ll ask Levi.”

Sasha chokes on air. “Wha—are you insane?”

Mikasa actually looks up at that, blinking. “You’re going to ask the Captain?”

You shrug innocently, gathering your comb. “He’s got an eye for detail. Might as well make use of it.”

Sasha buries her face into her pillow, groaning. “Oh my god, you love testing death, don’t you?”

Mikasa, while less dramatic, still watches you carefully. “You’re comfortable with him, sure. But that’s still Levi. You really think he’s going to care about how you do your hair?”

You smirk. “I don’t know. But I do know that if I look ridiculous, he won’t hesitate to tell me.”

Sasha peeks out from her pillow, stifling laughter. “That’s... actually true.”

Mikasa just shakes her head. “I’m not stopping you. But don’t be surprised if he tells you you’re wasting his time.”

You flash them both a grin before heading for the door. “I’ll be back with verdict.”

—

The morning sun is just beginning to filter through the halls as you make your way toward the common area, boots clicking softly against the wooden floors. Most of the squad is still waking up, scattered across various spaces, engaged in quiet conversations or lazy weekend tasks.

And then, you spot Levi.

He’s near the windows, arms crossed, watching the drizzle outside with his usual unreadable expression. The early light casts a soft glow against his features, the sharp angles of his face somehow looking even sharper in the muted tones of the morning.

You take a breath, then casually stride up next to him, standing just close enough that he acknowledges your presence with a glance but doesn’t immediately turn away.

“Captain,” you say, tilting your head.

Levi’s gaze flickers to you, his brows drawing together slightly. “What?”

You twirl a strand of your hair between your fingers, smirking. “Should I straighten or curl my hair today?”

There’s a pause. A heavy, weighted pause.

Levi blinks once. Then twice. His expression is as blank as ever, but there’s a split second where you think—just maybe—you’ve stunned him into silence.

“…You woke up just to ask me that?”

You cross your arms, feigning seriousness. “This is an important decision, Captain. I need guidance. You have high standards, so I figured you’d have an opinion.”

Levi exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever asked me.”

You bite back a grin. “That’s not an answer, though.”

He finally looks at you fully, scanning you with the same critical gaze he uses when inspecting gear, paperwork, or a particularly irritating recruit.

“Straight,” he says flatly. “Less maintenance.”

You huff. “That’s what Mikasa said.”

Levi shrugs. “Then she’s right.”

You tap your chin, pretending to contemplate. “Sasha said curls.”

“Tch. Of course she did.”

You fight the urge to laugh. “You really don’t like being pulled into nonsense, do you?”

Levi scoffs lightly, already turning back to the window. “And yet, somehow, you keep pulling me in.”

You grin. “It’s a talent.”

Levi exhales again, shaking his head. “Straighten it. But if you’re going to keep bothering me about it, just shave it all off and save everyone the trouble.”

You do laugh at that, shaking your head as you step back. “Alright, alright. Decision made. Thanks, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t reply, but as you turn to leave, you swear you catch something—the barest flicker of amusement in his gaze.

And somehow, that feels like more of a victory than anything else.

You straighten your posture before giving a firm nod, shifting away from the relaxed banter you nearly let slip. “Thank you, Captain.” Your voice is lighter now, but the respect is there—solid, unwavering, the way it should be when addressing him.

Levi doesn’t reply, but the flicker of acknowledgment in his expression tells you that he noticed the shift. He doesn’t need praise, doesn’t care for pleasantries, but he does expect discipline.

And you do respect him—his authority, his position, the sheer presence he carries that makes the rest of the squad tread carefully around him. That weight isn’t something you take lightly.

With your decision made, you turn on your heel and make your way back toward the barracks, catching the eyes of a few cadets as you pass. Some of them look at you like you’ve just done something insane, while others avoid making eye contact entirely, as if speaking to Levi so casually might have put you on a death sentence.

When you step back into the barracks, Sasha and Mikasa are still exactly where you left them, Sasha now halfway through a snack she definitely didn’t have before.

Mikasa eyes you first. “Straight?”

You smirk. “Straight.”

Sasha lets out a dramatic sigh. “Of course he’d say that.”

You shrug as you make your way to the small mirror on the vanity, pulling out your comb. “Well, you did say he has high standards. Might as well follow through.”

Mikasa finishes tying the last knot on her gear before grabbing her scarf. “I don’t understand why you’d ask him in the first place.”

You glance at her through the mirror, lips twitching. “Because he’d tell me the truth, not just what I want to hear.”

Sasha hums thoughtfully. “That is true… Still, brave of you to just walk up to him like that.”

You roll your eyes, running the comb through your hair. “He’s my Captain, not some untouchable ghost. You all act like he’s going to snap my neck for asking a question.”

Sasha gives you an incredulous look. “He would if you tested him enough.”

Mikasa, though less dramatic, simply says, “You’re more comfortable with him than the rest of us are.”

You pause at that, the weight of her words settling over you.

It’s true.

The others hold Levi at a distance—not just because of his rank, but because of who he is. Humanity’s Strongest. A leader, an authority, a presence that demands respect with the sheer force of his being. You’ve seen how they sit up straighter, how they quiet down when he enters a room, how the air around him shifts the atmosphere entirely.

And yet, with you, the distance is different. You still respect him, still heed his orders, but you don’t shrink away under his stare. You step forward, meet his gaze, hold your ground—not recklessly, not without care, but with something else. Something more solid.

You shake off the thought, focusing back on your reflection as you finish smoothing down the last strand of hair.

“Well,” you say, keeping your tone light, “it’s not my fault you all look like you’ve seen a ghost whenever he’s in the room.”

Mikasa doesn’t argue, simply picking up her gear and heading toward the door. “I’ll see you outside.”

Sasha gives you one last lingering look, then grins. “If you ever do cross a line, just give me your rations before you get executed.”

You snort. “Noted.”

As Sasha follows after Mikasa, you take one last glance at yourself before heading toward the door as well, rolling your shoulders back as you mentally prepare for the day ahead.

Even if you are more comfortable with the Captain, that doesn’t mean you’ll ever forget who he is.

Levi Ackerman.

Your Captain. Your superior.

The strongest soldier alive.

And somehow, someone you can’t seem to stop seeking out.

—

The morning air is crisp as you step outside, the lingering chill of the earlier rain still clinging to the air. The ground is damp beneath your boots, the scent of wet earth and wood mixing with the sharp freshness of the wind rolling over the fields beyond the walls. The sun is beginning to break through the thinning clouds, casting golden streaks across the headquarters, its light catching on the dew that clings to the edges of the grass.

You inhale deeply, letting the coolness of it wake you up fully. The barracks are already alive with movement—cadets milling about, some heading toward training fields, others finishing up morning duties. The sound of voices, of boots against gravel, of birds stirring in the trees beyond, all mix together into the low, steady hum of a world still in motion.

Sasha and Mikasa are waiting for you a few feet away, Mikasa adjusting the straps of her gear with practiced efficiency, Sasha idly bouncing on the balls of her feet like she’s trying to generate enough energy to get through the day. She notices you first, squinting at you with exaggerated focus before nodding in approval.

“Alright, I’ll admit it. The Captain was right. The straight hair suits you.”

You snort, walking up to them. “You sound so betrayed.”

“I am betrayed,” she huffs dramatically. “But only because I wanted to be right.”

Mikasa shakes her head. “It was a practical answer. Levi only ever gives practical answers.”

You hum, knowing that’s true, but there’s something about the way he’d looked at you when he said it—how he’d assessed you with that sharp gaze of his, how he’d told you without hesitation, straighten it—that lingers in your thoughts more than it should.

But before you can dwell on it too much, the sound of boots approaching pulls your attention.

Erwin and Levi are walking through the yard, their presence commanding without effort. There’s something about the way the air shifts when they’re together—Erwin with his calm, calculated confidence, and Levi, sharp-edged and observant, moving with quiet precision.

Cadets straighten as they pass, conversations dulling slightly out of instinct, as if the weight of leadership alone is enough to pull people to attention. Even Jean, who normally has some sort of wisecrack ready, keeps his mouth firmly shut as they approach.

You, on the other hand, watch them with interest. Erwin is speaking in low tones, his expression unreadable, while Levi listens, his eyes narrowed slightly, his arms crossed as he walks in measured steps beside him.

But then, as if drawn by some unspoken pull, Levi’s gaze flickers—to you.

It’s brief, but it lingers just long enough to be intentional. A silent acknowledgment. A glance that feels heavier than just casual observation.

Your heart stirs in a way you don’t fully understand.

You don’t break eye contact right away. You hold it, just for a second longer than necessary, before nodding in quiet greeting, maintaining the formality expected of you.

Levi doesn’t nod back, but there’s a shift in his expression, something so subtle that only someone looking for it would notice. And then he looks away, back to Erwin, as if nothing had happened at all.

The moment passes, but it leaves something behind.

Mikasa notices. She doesn’t say anything, but she notices. The slight tilt of her head, the way her gaze flickers between you and Levi before she simply adjusts her gear again, tells you that much.

Sasha, however, being Sasha, definitely notices.

She leans in slightly, voice hushed but teasing. “That was a look.”

You keep your expression carefully neutral. “That was nothing.”

Sasha smirks. “Sure it was.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth spreading beneath your ribs is undeniable.

—

The morning drifts into training, the sky fully clearing as the sun rises higher, warming the damp earth below. The air is filled with the rhythmic whoosh of ODM gear, the sharp snap of cables latching onto wooden poles, the occasional grunt of effort as cadets push themselves through the drills.

You move through the routine with practiced ease, the familiar weight of your gear settling into your movements, your muscles burning in that satisfying way that comes with hard work. The wind rushes past your ears as you propel yourself forward, the world blurring for a moment before you land solidly on the next platform, inhaling sharply before launching off again.

Training days like this—ones where you can feel your strength, your skill, the sheer power of your body moving through the air—are the ones that remind you why you fight. Why you push.

You fall into rhythm with the others, weaving between them, keeping pace as you scan for your next maneuver. Jean and Eren are bickering between swings, Sasha is somehow eating mid-air, and Mikasa—unsurprisingly—is moving effortlessly, her form almost unnatural in its efficiency.

And then there’s Levi.

His presence alone changes the air.

He’s not just watching—he’s analyzing, assessing the squad with sharp, unwavering focus. His movements are controlled, effortless, the way he balances his weight even as he stands observing more a testament to his skill than anything else.

Every once in a while, he calls out adjustments. A sharp, no-nonsense command. A correction before anyone even has a chance to mess up.

And when his voice cuts through the field—low, firm, carrying more authority in a single word than most could in an entire speech—people listen.

You land solidly on a nearby platform, catching your breath for just a second before you hear it.

“Your form’s getting sloppy.”

You turn sharply.

Levi is watching you, arms crossed, gaze heavy.

You blink, surprised at first, before narrowing your eyes slightly. “It’s not sloppy.”

Levi raises a brow. “You hesitated before your last swing.”

You huff, rolling your shoulders back, feeling the weight of your gear settle evenly again. “Only because Jean was in my way.”

Jean, from several feet away, throws up his hands. “Why is my name always being thrown around?”

Levi doesn’t even acknowledge him. His attention stays on you.

“You’re letting yourself get distracted,” he says evenly, gaze unwavering. “Fix it.”

Your jaw tightens slightly.

You could argue, you want to argue, but you know better. Levi doesn’t say things for the sake of it. If he’s calling you out, it’s because he knows you can do better.

And that bothers you more than anything.

You nod once, sharp. “Understood, Captain.”

Levi watches you for a second longer before giving the smallest nod of approval. And then, just like that, his attention shifts—back to the squad, back to the broader picture, back to everything else that needs his attention.

You take a slow breath before launching yourself forward again, this time sharper, faster.

And though he doesn’t look at you again, you know he’s still watching.

And that’s enough to push you harder.

—

It was the end of the short lesson as you were released for the weekend.

“Guys,” You fall back into step with the girls, absentmindedly stroking a piece of your hair, “what if he only chose straight hair because it’s more convenient, not because it necessarily looked better on me? How can I know?”

Sasha groans dramatically, throwing her arms in the air. “Oh my god, you’re still thinking about this?”

Mikasa, walking beside you with her gear slung over her shoulder, gives you a sidelong glance. “Levi doesn’t say things just to say them. If he said straight, he meant it.”

You let out a thoughtful hum, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers. “But what if he only said it because it’s easier, not because it actually looked better?”

Sasha snorts. “Then I guess you’ll just have to change it up and see if he reacts.”

You blink at her. “What, like curl my hair next time and test his response?”

Mikasa shakes her head as if she can already see where this is going. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Sasha grins mischievously. “I do.”

You narrow your eyes in thought, considering.

Mikasa sighs. “He’s our Captain, not some noble at a ballroom.”

“Exactly,” you quip, smirking. “Which means if he does notice, it’ll mean something.”

Mikasa doesn’t respond, just presses her lips into a thin line as if choosing to disengage entirely.

Sasha, however, nudges you with her elbow. “Alright, next mission: Operation Look Pretty and See if Captain Notices.”

You huff a laugh. “That is not what we’re calling it.”

Sasha grins. “Too late. It’s already official.”

Mikasa sighs again, rubbing her temple. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

You smirk but don’t push further, letting the subject drop—for now. But deep down, curiosity lingers.

Because, honestly?

You kind of do want to see if he notices.

—

“I mean, we are going out tonight to celebrate Jean’s birthday. I can accidentally slip by him with my curled hair to see his reaction…” You muse thoughtfully as you get change out of uniform and into more casual clothing, appreciating the cool breeze that hits your legs as you twirl in a skirt.

Mikasa groans, rubbing her temple like she’s already regretting being part of this conversation. “That’s ridiculous.”

Sasha, on the other hand, lights up. “No, that’s genius.”

You grin, brushing through your hair as you sit on the edge of your bed. “Is it though?”

“Yes,” Sasha says immediately. “Because listen, if Levi doesn’t care, he won’t react. But if he notices—even a little—that means he actually has an opinion on how you look.” She gestures dramatically. “And that would mean something.”

Mikasa exhales through her nose. “Or it just means he’s observant and has an opinion on everything.”

You hum thoughtfully, tying your hair into a loose ponytail for now. “That’s why it’s a test, Mikasa. For science.”

Mikasa stares at you blankly. “That is not how science works.”

Sasha claps her hands together. “Alright, so plan’s simple—tonight, you curl your hair, we go out for Jean’s birthday, and at some point, you just... happen to slip by the Captain.”

You nod, amused at how invested Sasha has become. “Exactly. Totally casual. No effort at all.”

Mikasa shakes her head, standing up and adjusting the straps on her uniform. “I’m not encouraging this. If you want to waste your time overanalyzing Levi’s non-reaction, that’s on you.”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “It’s called gathering data, Mikasa.”

You laugh, standing as well. “Exactly. And besides, it’s just for fun.”

Mikasa gives you a look that says you are all insufferable, but she doesn’t argue further. Instead, she merely slings her gear over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you both outside.”

As she leaves, Sasha leans in conspiratorially. “She’s totally curious too, she just won’t admit it.”

You smirk. “Oh, definitely.”

Sasha grins. “Alright, then. Let’s make Jean’s birthday party very interesting.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur of training, chores, and preparation for the evening. By the time the sun dips low over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of soft orange and violet, the atmosphere around headquarters shifts into something lighter, more relaxed. It’s rare to have a night like this—where everyone can unwind, even just for a few hours, without the weight of duty pressing down on them.

You stand in front of the small mirror in the barracks, fingers deftly working through your hair as you curl it, piece by piece. The heat from the iron brushes against your fingertips, and you carefully shape each strand, letting the soft waves fall naturally over your shoulders.

Mikasa, seated on her bunk, pretends not to watch but definitely watches. She says nothing, but the occasional glance in the mirror’s reflection gives her away.

Sasha, on the other hand, is fully invested, sitting cross-legged on her bed and leaning forward. “Oh, yeah. This was definitely the right call.”

You smirk. “Told you.”

She grins. “You’re about to ruin a man’s whole perception of himself.”

You snort, shaking your head as you adjust the last curl. “You’re making it sound like a battle strategy.”

Sasha shrugs. “If you win, I say it counts.”

Mikasa finally sighs. “It’s ridiculous to think Levi would even care about something like this.”

You raise an eyebrow at her through the mirror. “Then there’s no harm in testing it, right?”

She presses her lips into a thin line, but doesn’t argue.

Satisfied, you stand up, smoothing your hands over your outfit—something casual but presentable, enough to blend in while still feeling put-together. The anticipation hums beneath your skin, but you shake it off, reminding yourself that this is not some grand event.

It’s just Jean’s birthday.

And Levi noticing or not noticing your hair is just... extra data.

—

The town is alive with warmth and movement, the faint glow of lanterns casting golden light against cobblestone streets. It’s a stark contrast to headquarters—where the air is always tense, where everything is lined with purpose and duty. Here, laughter spills from tavern doors, the clinking of glasses and distant music drifting through the air.

The squad gathers outside one of the better-kept taverns, waiting for stragglers before heading in. Jean stands at the center of it all, basking in the attention of his birthday, grinning as Connie pretends to give a heartfelt speech about his immense wisdom and contributions to humanity.

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you adjust your jacket. “You’re laying it on thick, Connie.”

Connie throws up his hands. “It’s his birthday, let me lie to the guy.”

Jean scoffs, shoving him lightly. “At least someone is recognizing my greatness.”

Mikasa stands beside you, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. Sasha is already trying to drag Reiner and Bertholdt into a bet over who can drink the most before passing out. The atmosphere is light, easy—exactly the kind of night you all need.

And then, just as you’re about to head inside, you feel it.

A shift.

The kind of awareness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You glance over your shoulder, and sure enough—Levi is approaching from the other end of the street. He’s walking with Erwin and Hange, both of whom are engaged in quiet conversation. But Levi—Levi is quiet as always, sharp eyes scanning the gathered squad as he moves.

Your heart does a stupid little lurch in your chest.

It’s not a big deal. You know that. But suddenly, every single curl feels too obvious, every strand of hair placed too deliberately.

Sasha subtly elbows you, voice low. “Showtime.”

You swallow, ignoring the ridiculousness of it all as you casually—very casually—turn your head and pretend to adjust your sleeve, making it look like you just so happen to be standing directly in Levi’s line of sight.

He slows slightly as he approaches, his eyes flickering over the group in his usual assessing way. You watch carefully, scanning for any sign of reaction—anything at all—but his face remains unreadable.

And then—his gaze lands on you.

It’s brief. Just a flicker. But something shifts.

His sharp eyes drag over your hair—not just in passing, but with intent. The tiniest hesitation, the kind that would be imperceptible to anyone not looking for it.

You hold your breath.

And then, just as quickly as it happened, it’s gone.

His expression smooths back into neutrality, his attention snapping forward again as he brushes past you with no comment, following Erwin and Hange into the tavern.

You exhale slowly, feeling the weight of Sasha’s expectant stare burning into the side of your face.

“Well?” she whispers, practically vibrating. “Did he notice?”

You press your lips together, considering.

“…He paused.”

Sasha grabs your arm. “OH, MY GOD.”

Mikasa groans, already walking ahead. “I refuse to be part of this.”

Jean, oblivious to everything, is already inside, basking in the attention of his own celebration.

You, however, linger for just a second longer, glancing at the door Levi disappeared into.

Maybe it was nothing.

Maybe it was everything.

But either way—he paused.

And that was more than enough.

—

The warmth of the tavern hits you the moment you step inside, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside. The scent of old wood, spiced ale, and freshly baked bread lingers in the air, mixing with the low hum of chatter and the occasional burst of laughter from a drunken patron. The flickering candlelight casts everything in a dim, golden glow, the kind that makes the edges of reality feel softer, less urgent.

Jean, reveling in the rare occasion of being the center of attention, immediately heads toward an empty table near the back, where the rest of your squad is already gathering. Connie slings an arm around his shoulders, teasing him about how old he’s getting, while Sasha is already scanning the menu, clearly prioritizing food over conversation.

You settle into a seat across from Mikasa, who looks less interested in the celebration and more like she’s simply here to make sure Eren doesn’t do anything stupid. You smirk, leaning on your elbow. “I bet you five rations Eren ends up in a bar fight before the night is over.”

Mikasa doesn’t even blink. “I’m not betting against something that’s guaranteed to happen.”

You laugh, but before you can respond, the door swings open again, and your attention flickers instinctively to the entrance.

Levi steps inside, following Erwin and Hange as they make their way toward a separate table reserved for officers. Unlike the rest of you—who have already started loosening up, the casual energy of the tavern slipping into your movements—Levi remains the same. Composed. Straight-backed. Completely unfazed by the shift in atmosphere.

But you don’t miss the way his sharp gaze subtly sweeps over the room, assessing the layout, cataloging who’s here, where the exits are. It’s instinctual, second nature. Even in a space meant for relaxation, he’s still a soldier first.

He moves toward his seat, and for a second, just a brief second, his gaze flickers in your direction.

You feel the weight of it, even from across the room.

It’s unreadable, just like before. But you know he saw.

Your heart does that stupid little skip again, and you force yourself to look away, suppressing the smug smile threatening to form on your lips.

Sasha, however, does not suppress hers. She leans in close, voice hushed but practically vibrating with excitement. “He paused again.”

You shake your head. “It could have been anything.”

“It wasn’t anything.”

Mikasa sighs, already regretting sitting next to you two. “If you two spent half this energy on training, you’d both be Captain-level by now.”

Sasha grins. “Okay, but watching this unfold is so much more entertaining.”

You roll your eyes, picking up a glass of water and taking a slow sip, hoping to calm down the unnecessary giddiness that’s settled in your chest. It’s stupid—you know it’s stupid—but something about Levi’s pause feels like a tiny, unspoken victory.

Still, you shake it off. The night isn’t about that. It’s about Jean, about unwinding, about letting yourself be a person instead of just a soldier for once.

And so, you let the conversation around you pull you in. You tease Jean about his dramatic speeches, you steal a bite of Sasha’s food when she isn’t looking, you let yourself sink into the warmth of camaraderie, the normalcy of it all.

Time moves easily, drinks are passed around, and the sound of laughter grows louder as the night wears on.

Until—

“You’re drinking too fast.”

The voice is low, firm, unmistakable.

Your muscles stiffen slightly before you even see him, but when you glance up, sure enough, Levi is standing beside you, arms crossed, looking unimpressed.

Your glass, half-full with whatever cheap ale Sasha had convinced you to try, is still in your hand. You raise an eyebrow, tilting it slightly. “I’ve had one drink, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t budge. “And I’ve seen what happens when you lot get carried away.”

Around you, the others fall quiet, the easygoing atmosphere from moments ago shifting under Levi’s presence. Even Jean—who, on his own birthday, should technically be allowed to act out a little—sits up straighter, eyes flickering toward you with mild concern.

You swallow, knowing that Levi is right, that the last thing you need is to be unfocused, careless.

Still, you offer a small, placating smile. “I hear you, Captain. Don’t worry—I know my limits.”

Levi watches you for a moment longer, gaze lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. But then he exhales sharply through his nose, something between a sigh and a quiet acknowledgment, before stepping back. “Tch. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

You nod, and with that, Levi finally retreats, making his way back toward his own table.

The second he’s out of earshot, Sasha lets out a long breath. “Wow. He really keeps an eye on you, huh?”

Jean shakes his head. “I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or be impressed you can get away with talking back.”

You roll your eyes. “I wasn’t talking back. I was just… clarifying.”

Mikasa hums. “He didn’t call anyone else out. Just you.”

That gives you pause.

You glance back toward Levi’s table, where he’s now sitting with Erwin and Hange, sipping from a teacup instead of anything stronger. His posture remains the same—composed, indifferent—but his awareness of the room is ever-present.

And maybe, just maybe, his awareness of you is a little sharper than the rest.

You turn back to your friends, shaking your head. “You’re all reading too much into it.”

Sasha smirks. “Are we?”

You don’t answer.

You just take another sip of water, ignoring the way your heart betrays you with a quiet, persistent rhythm.

—

The world feels a little softer around the edges, the golden glow of lanterns casting everything in a dreamlike haze. The warmth of the alcohol hums beneath your skin, not overwhelming, but just enough—enough to dull the weight of the past week, enough to make the music sound richer, enough to let yourself exist in the moment without overthinking it.

The tavern is alive now, laughter spilling over the strum of instruments, boots tapping against the wooden floor in time with the lively rhythm. Around you, your friends are caught up in the revelry—Connie and Sasha are engaged in some ridiculous footwork competition, Jean is attempting to twirl Historia around and failing miserably, and even Mikasa, ever composed, allows herself a small smile as she watches the chaos unfold.

And then—your hands are caught in someone else’s.

You blink, surprised, as a man—tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy grin—takes your hand and pulls you into the movement of the dance floor. His grip is firm, his confidence easy, and before you can even register it, you’re being spun into the rhythm of the music.

You offer a polite smile, adjusting to the steps as he twirls you once, twice. He seems friendly enough, his expression open and relaxed, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, let yourself be just another person in a tavern, caught in the joy of the night.

But then—

His hold tightens.

Subtly, but noticeably.

His hand lingers just a little too long on your waist, his grip just a bit firmer than necessary.

Your instincts, dulled by the pleasant haze in your mind, take a moment to catch up. You keep your smile in place, but a quiet unease settles in your stomach. You try to subtly shift your weight, to create some distance between you, but he moves with you, maintaining the closeness.

A polite exit. You just need a polite exit.

You clear your throat lightly, offering a small laugh. “Alright, I think I need a break—”

The man chuckles, still holding you in place. “Come on, one more dance.”

Something in his tone makes your skin prickle—not outright threatening, but entitled, as if your willingness to dance once meant you owed him more.

Your smile tightens. “I should really—”

And then, before you have the chance to finish your sentence, the air changes.

A presence—sharp, heavy, unmistakable—settles behind you.

The man stiffens slightly, his grip loosening just enough for you to slip a step back, as a new voice cuts through the space between you, low and edged with quiet authority.

“Let her go.”

Your breath catches.

Slowly, you turn your head.

Levi stands there, expression unreadable, eyes dark and steady. His posture is relaxed—but in that way, the way that suggests he is anything but. His arms are crossed, but the tension in his shoulders is subtle, the kind you’d only notice if you knew him.

And you do.

The man—who had been all confidence and charm just moments ago—hesitates, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He sizes Levi up, as if debating whether or not to push his luck.

He makes the wrong choice.

“She was dancing with me,” the man says, lifting his hands slightly in false innocence, though his tone holds a thread of defiance. “Didn’t seem to mind.”

A sharp, quiet pause.

Levi tilts his head ever so slightly, eyes flickering between you and the man with chilling precision. His voice, when he speaks again, is calm.

“I wasn’t asking.”

The weight of those words settles between them, heavy, immovable.

Something flickers in the man’s face—hesitation, irritation, then a quiet understanding that this is not a fight he wants to pick.

With a huff, he raises his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know she had a guard dog.”

You feel Levi tense, just for a split second.

Before anything can escalate, you step forward, offering the man a sharp, polite smile. “Thank you for the dance,” you say evenly, voice firm. “But I’m done now.”

The man’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer, then finally, he scoffs and turns away, disappearing into the crowd.

The tension lingers, like a blade just barely sheathed.

You exhale slowly, turning fully toward Levi.

His gaze sweeps over you—quick, assessing, making sure you’re unharmed. When he’s satisfied, he clicks his tongue. “You need to be more careful.”

You cross your arms. “I was being careful.”

Levi raises a brow. “Didn’t look like it.”

You huff, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was handling it, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his eyes flicker over your face again, something unreadable in his expression. Then, finally—

“I know.”

It’s not an admission of fault, not quite. But it is an acknowledgment.

You blink, caught off guard by the quiet weight behind those words.

Before you can say anything, he exhales sharply and steps back. “Oi. You’re reckless.”

You smirk. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”

Levi doesn’t dignify that with a response, just shakes his head. But there’s something different in the way he looks at you, something lingering beneath the usual exasperation.

Something like relief.

And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t the only one who noticed the way he paused tonight.

—

“Well Captain?” You smile, laughing as you sidestep to avoid Sasha twirling with a recently hired chef that you had seen around a lot more recently. “Isn’t the gentleman supposed to offer the lady a dance? Awfully rude to step in without an intention of following through, don’t you think?”

Levi exhales sharply through his nose, unimpressed, arms still crossed as he watches you with that unreadable expression. The tavern is alive around you—figures moving in vibrant swirls of laughter and motion, the wooden floor shaking beneath the weight of stomping boots, the rich hum of music weaving through the air.

But here, in this moment, it’s just you and him.

You smirk, tilting your head. “Come on, Captain. You can’t step in all dramatic like that and not at least pretend to play along.”

Levi doesn’t move, but there’s something assessing in his gaze, something like quiet calculation behind those steel-gray eyes. You wonder if he’s thinking of an escape, a way to dismiss you with one of his usual deadpan remarks.

But then—

A hand.

Not grabbing, not demanding—just a simple extension. A silent answer.

Your breath catches in your throat.

It’s brief, just a flicker of hesitation before his fingers brush yours, just enough to take your hand without giving anything away. His grip is firm, but there’s a carefulness to it, as if he’s aware of the weight behind the action, of the unspoken shift in the space between you.

And then—he moves.

Not in the showy, exaggerated way the others are throwing themselves into the music, but in a way that’s purely Levi—sharp, controlled, precise. His grip on your hand remains steady as he guides you through the steps, his other hand finding the small of your back, light but firm.

For a second, you forget everything else.

The alcohol, the laughter, the blurred movement of the world around you—it all fades into something distant, something inconsequential compared to the quiet gravity of him.

His touch is careful but certain, his movements seamless despite the clear reluctance in his expression. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable—it’s just that Levi Ackerman is not a man who does things without purpose.

And yet, here he is, following through.

You smile, leaning in just slightly, voice barely above the hum of the music. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

Levi scoffs lightly. "You’re lucky I haven’t stepped on your feet.”

You laugh—really laugh, the warmth of it bubbling up in your chest, light and unrestrained. The sound earns you the barest flicker of something in his eyes—not quite amusement, but something close.

The moment stretches, neither of you breaking the rhythm, neither of you pulling away.

And for the first time that night, you’re certain of one thing:

Levi definitely noticed your hair.

The music swells around you, a lively, unrelenting current of sound and motion, but you barely register it. The tavern, the laughter, the blur of bodies dancing past—it all becomes background noise, a distant hum compared to the quiet weight of the moment unfolding between you and Levi.

His hand is steady against yours, his grip firm but never forceful. His other hand, resting lightly at the small of your back, holds no urgency, no demand—just quiet control, a careful presence. He moves with you in that same effortless way he fights—with intention, with precision, with the kind of quiet mastery that makes even the smallest of gestures feel deliberate.

And yet, for all his competence, you can feel the reluctance in him.

Not reluctance toward you, necessarily. But toward the situation. Toward the ease with which he’s letting this happen.

Toward the fact that he is here, dancing with you, indulging this moment when he so rarely indulges anything.

You can see it in the tension just barely visible in his shoulders, in the way his jaw ticks subtly, as if his own body is surprised by the fact that he’s still holding onto you.

You press your lips together, suppressing a smirk. “You’re concentrating too much.”

Levi exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “I don’t dance.”

“You’re dancing right now.”

“Tch. You call this dancing?”

You grin, leaning in just enough that your words are meant only for him. “Well, you are holding me awfully close for someone who doesn’t dance, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t react immediately, doesn’t pull away or push you off with a sharp remark like you half-expect him to. Instead, his grip subtly adjusts—not tightening, not loosening, but shifting in a way that tells you he’s aware.

Aware of the closeness. Aware of the way your breath brushes faintly against his collar. Aware of the warmth of your body so near to his own.

It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you feel it—that minuscule shift in his fingers against yours, in the way his hand remains steady at your back, holding you just at the edge of something uncertain.

He doesn’t break the eye contact you didn’t even realize you had been holding.

“…You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, voice low, almost lost beneath the sound of music and laughter around you.

You smile. “And yet, here you are.”

Levi exhales, his thumb grazing the back of your hand as he adjusts his grip—so small a movement, so imperceptible, that you wonder if he even realizes he did it.

Or if he does, and just isn’t stopping himself.

The room spins slightly—not from the alcohol, not from the movement, but from the sheer weight of the moment, from the impossible tenderness that exists in the spaces between words, in the breaths you don’t take, in the lingering warmth of a touch that neither of you are pulling away from.

And for the first time since you pulled him into this, you realize something.

You’re testing him.

Not just to see if he noticed your hair, not just to push his limits, but to see if he will choose to let this moment exist.

If he will choose to let himself stay.

Your heart pounds as you take a breath. “Levi—”

A crash from the other side of the room interrupts you, followed by loud, drunken shouting.

Levi’s body tenses immediately, his hand at your back twitching as his head whips toward the commotion. The moment between you shatters instantly, replaced by sharp awareness, by the cold snap of duty.

He doesn’t say a word. He just lets go.

The loss of his touch is instant, like stepping into cold air after being wrapped in warmth. The shift is so sharp, so complete, that it almost makes you doubt whether the moment you just shared was real at all.

Levi steps back, his expression neutral again, unreadable as he scans the room, already assessing.

You swallow, forcing yourself to do the same—to shake it off, to pretend like your pulse isn’t still pounding in your ears, like the ghost of his hands on you isn’t still lingering on your skin.

He glances back at you, his gaze flickering over you once, checking—like he’s making sure you’re still steady, still standing, before he turns his attention back to the rest of the room.

“Stay here,” he mutters. And then, just like that, he’s gone, moving toward the source of the disturbance with the same effortless sharpness that makes him humanity’s strongest.

You watch him go, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

The music carries on, the tavern keeps spinning, but you remain rooted in place, heart still racing, the memory of his warmth still imprinted on your skin.

And for the first time tonight, you realize—

You don’t need Levi to say that he noticed you.

Because in the way he held onto you, even for just a moment—he already did.

—

You scan the room to see if any of your friends are in danger. After seeing them slowly making their way back to the corner table, you bunch up your skirt before striding across the room to Erwin. "Commander, what is it? Where's Captain? Squad Leader Hange? What are my orders, sir?"

You stand unflinching before him, but your heart beats thunderously, unsure of where the Captain went and if he'll be okay.

Erwin’s sharp blue eyes flicker down to you as you approach, his expression unreadable but steady, as always. The weight of command rests on his shoulders like a mantle, effortless in the way only a man like him can carry. He does not startle, does not seem surprised that you’ve come to him first, as if he expected you would.

His gaze scans over the tavern, over the shifting figures of soldiers and civilians alike, before settling back on you. “It was just a minor scuffle,” he says, voice calm, deliberate. “A few drunk patrons getting too comfortable around our cadets. Captain Levi and Squad Leader Hange are handling it.”

Your fingers tighten slightly against the fabric of your skirt, heart still hammering in your chest. “Should I assist?”

Erwin studies you for a fraction longer than necessary before speaking. “No. The situation is under control.” A pause. “But it’s good that you came to me first.”

Your lips press together, trying to steady yourself. “It’s my duty.”

Erwin gives the smallest nod, an unspoken acknowledgment that you understand what it means to be a soldier, even in moments like this. Even with your pulse still thrumming from something that has nothing to do with a threat.

You inhale sharply, eyes flickering toward the direction Levi disappeared. “Where did Captain Levi go?”

“He’s outside.” Erwin’s voice remains as even as ever, but something in the way he watches you is too perceptive, too knowing. “Ensuring the situation is fully resolved.”

Your stomach twists, but you keep your stance firm. “Permission to check on him, sir?”

A pause.

Not hesitation, not refusal—just assessment.

Then, Erwin gives the faintest tilt of his chin. “Go.”

You don’t waste a second.

—

The cold air hits you as soon as you step outside. The tavern’s warmth is instantly swallowed by the crisp night breeze, the scent of rain still lingering from the earlier drizzle. Lanterns flicker dimly against the darkness, casting long, stretching shadows over the cobblestone streets.

And then—you see him.

Levi stands a few paces ahead, his back to you, his posture rigid but controlled. Even from here, you can see the way his fingers flex slightly at his sides, how his head tilts just barely, listening to something unseen.

There’s a man at his feet—conscious but slumped against the wall, groaning, as if the fight had been drained out of him in an instant.

Levi had taken care of it. Of course he had.

But you don’t care about the drunk.

You care about him.

You step forward, boots tapping against stone, and his head immediately shifts at the sound. He doesn’t fully turn—doesn’t have to. He already knows it’s you.

“Captain.” Your voice is steadier than your pulse. “Are you alright?”

For a moment, Levi doesn’t respond. He exhales slowly through his nose, a habit you recognize—one he does when he’s recalibrating, shifting from fight to stillness.

Then, at last, he turns.

The dim lantern light catches against the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the slight furrow between his brows, the tension still visible in the line of his jaw. His uniform is slightly rumpled from movement, but there’s no sign of injury—no blood, no bruising, just Levi, standing in the quiet aftermath of something already finished.

He studies you for a moment, eyes scanning—searching, checking—as if making sure you’re still in one piece.

“Tch.” He clicks his tongue, looking away. “You should be inside.”

You step closer, searching his face. “So should you.”

Levi exhales, the barest hint of exasperation beneath the breath. “Did Erwin send you?”

You shake your head. “I came on my own.”

At that, something flickers in his expression. Not surprise—more like quiet understanding.

Your fingers twitch slightly at your sides, unsure of what to say, unsure if there’s anything to say that he’ll actually listen to. So instead, you just—watch him.

The lines of his face, the way the dim glow of lanterns traces the edges of his expression, how his eyes—normally so impassive—seem darker under the weight of the night.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

Then—

“You’re shaking.”

It’s so quiet that you almost miss it.

You blink. “What?”

Levi’s gaze flickers to your hands, and you realize, belatedly, that he’s right—your fingers are trembling, ever so slightly, still buzzing with the leftover adrenaline from the evening.

You open your mouth to dismiss it, to say something lighthearted, to wave it off as nothing, but—

Levi moves first.

His hand—warm, calloused, steady—reaches out. He doesn’t take yours, doesn’t grip your wrist, but he touches. A brush of fingertips against your knuckles, a fleeting connection, just enough to ground you in place.

Your breath catches.

It lasts only a second.

Then, just as quickly, he pulls away, as if realizing what he did, as if catching himself before he lingers too long.

You swallow, staring at him.

“Go inside,” he murmurs, voice quieter than before.

Your heart is still hammering, but it’s not from the cold anymore.

“…You’re sure you’re okay?” you ask, softer this time.

Levi holds your gaze, something unreadable in his own.

Then, with the barest tilt of his chin—

“I’m fine.”

And this time, you believe him.

467 notes · View notes

xplicitviewz · 26 days ago

Text

best friend!Jean who wanted to take you to see the movie you’ve been blabbering about as a surprise since your shitty boyfriend(who he hates) wouldn’t take you to go see because it was ‘too cringe and annoying’

After deciding on a casual outfit to where, he stop at the movie theater to buy the tickets for a later time knowing you would take a minute to get ready and head over to a food spot to pick up your favorites. He already stopped at the gas station grabbing some of your favorite snacks. While he waits for the food, he texted your phone.

Genie: hey y/n can I come over?

Y/n: yea the door is unlocked for you !!!

Genie: I’m otw 😎

Jean walks in your apartment about 10 mins later, holding the movie tickets in one hand and a bag of food to sneak into the theaters in the other, a smile plastered on his face waiting to see your reaction. As he’s walking to your room he halts hearing noises of a bed squeaking.

His face burns red when he realizes what it is after one of your soft moans ring in his ear, alongside skin slapping. He’s stunned for a moment before rushing back to his car and texting you ‘something came up’.

Ex-best friend!jean who stops talking to you for a moment because he realized he actually had feelings for you and couldn’t stand to see you with another guy, so he won’t see you at all. It was hard the first few days considering everything reminded him of you but hanging out with Connie and Sasha, hell even Eren helped.

You were a bit confused seeing Jean not respond to your memes you sent or funny videos you knew he would laugh at but left it alone. Maybe thinking he had stuff to do. You went along with your days, hanging out with your friends and your boyfriend mainly, still feeling off.

It was until a few weeks later your shitty ass boyfriend had the nerve to bring another stank ass girl to your apartment, cheating on you in your bed. You were furious, throwing anything you can grab at him them. Yelling and screaming- yes a total crash out you are. After kicking them out you immediately tossed your sheets and burned sage, crying for a few hours. How else were you supposed to react when your first boyfriend cheats on you.

You pull out your phone and text the one person who you know would help you feel better.

Y/n: Jean r u ok

Y/n: hey please can we talk?

After 20 minutes went by, you grabbed a Jean’s hoodie, not bothering to put pants one since your hoodie went to your mid-thighs. You grabbed your keys and headed to your car driving straight to his house. When you pulled up you looked at yourself in the mirror to see your tear stained face and red swollen eyes. With a sigh, you opened your car door and walked nervously to Jeans front door, putting on your hood.

You didn’t know if he was home to be honest. He parks in the garage and the lights looked off. You rang the doorbell and knocked a few times.

Ultimately giving up, you begin to walk away when you hear the door open. “Connie I literally said to come la- oh.” Jean stops when he sees it’s you and not Connie, who he was going out with later on.

You turn to face him, feeling the tears well up in your eyes again. Jean who was being quiet and tense, immediately softened when he saw you had been crying already, for a while it seems.

“Are y-you okay?” He opens the door wider for you to come in. Your lips quiver as you walk closer to him instead of going inside. You cry again as soon as your body clashes into him, his arms wrapping around you and holding you tightly. “What happened?” His voice softens as he lifts you to bring you inside and close the door. His carries you to the couch and sits you down before grabbing a blanket of yours (you had left there months ago during a movie night you both had. He uses it all the time) and covers you before grabbing his phone to cancel on Connie.

“He cheated on me….in my fucking house.” You finally say between tears. Jean felt his body burn with anger but he stops it because now is not the time to say I told you so, he wants to make sure your okay.

“And you, you’ve been ignoring me. Do you hate me?” You look into his eyes, his gaze avoiding yours. “N-no, I just been busy. You seemed happy with him and I didn’t want to be a bother.”

You scoff and shake your head looking away from him. Looking down at the blanket as you pull it closer to your body. “Asshole.” You mutter, “I can’t believe he did that.”

I could, Jean wanted to say but he kept his mouth shut, “He is an asshole, and an idiot.” He watches as you wipe your tears and get up from the couch, walking towards his kitchen. You know he usually keeps drinks stocked in his fridge and grabbed a few, bringing them back to the couch.

“Are you hungry or anything?” Jean asks you watching as you take a sip of the alcohol. You shake your head no and continue to drink more. Jean reaches for one himself, sitting back in the couch.

A couple hours go by and you both are now laughing about shit that’s been going on and for the first time in a while, you feel complete, happier. You were more intoxicated than Jean was. The doorbell rang and he got up to go answer, coming back with pizza and wings.

Your eyes lit up as you smelled the aroma of flavors filling the air. “When did you get this?” You asked sitting up in the couch to grab a slice. “When I asked you if you were hungry, I just scheduled a delivery for later.”

“Jean I love you so much, you know me so well.” You take a bite of the pizza, moaning at the taste. Jean chokes on his pizza, getting flashbacks of you moaning the last time he went to go see you. He clears his throat, grabbing a pillow and putting it over his crotch area, not trusting his tipsy self to accidentally get a boner.

“Thank you for this.” You look at him with a small smile, “I’m sorry I came unannounced, it’s just-“ you pause looking down at your lap, “I miss you Jean.”

He feels his heart melt when those words leave your mouth, he missed you it was hard for him to even go out sometimes. “I know you said you were busy but I just couldn’t stand us not talking. Whether I have a boyfriend or not, please don’t do that again.” Your bottom lip pulls out slightly.

Jean pretends to not be hurt at the boyfriend part and nods his head. “Yea, I’m sorry too. Work and life just got in the way.” He responds taking another bite of his pizza, grabbing for a wing.

“Did you ever go to see the movie you were talking about?” Jean asks changing the subject. “N-no. They stopped playing it in theaters already too.” You sigh, remembering how your ex never took you to see it. He never agreed to even going.

“Gosh I don’t know what I saw in him. He barely took me out, usually we split the bill. Bought me flowers once, and it was just for Valentine’s Day, plus the flowers weren’t even that nice, and they weren’t my favorite color. He would always start shit when I wanted to hang out with my friends. Always stayed at my house as if he doesn’t have his own space. Now to think of it, i don’t even know if he had his own place.”

Jean listens to you ramble and vent about how shitty your ex is. His eyes roll, taking another bite, knowing he could treat you so much better, he already has anyways. He always got you flowers, holidays and random days, to your knowledge, his mom had extra inventory from her flower shop and gave it to him to give to you. He always got you food when you guys hung out, made sure you were gonna be safe when hanging out with your friends and if you needed a ride if you were gonna drink.

He made it a point to take care of you, even if you saw him as a friend. It was hurting him more, mainly why he stopped talking to you altogether. He had to. It wasn’t healthy for him. Jean seen every meme you sent, every message. He wanted to reply so bad but he knew it wasn’t good for hi-

“Hell I don’t even think he made me orgasm.”

Jean choked on his pizza, “w-what?”

“Yea, no, not at all. I can’t believe I was that down bad for a man who said going down on me took too much work.”

Jeans eyes nearly bulged out of his socket as he placed the pizza down taking a sip of his drink. Did he hear you right? Are you drunk? You can’t be that much of a lightweight….can you?

“It’s so embarrassing.” You groan hiding your hands in your face wondering how and why you faked it.

Jean cleared his throat wanting to move on as fast as possible, “he’s not a man, he’s a man child.” He scoots over closer to you.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, we all fell for someone who isn’t good for them.” He chuckles before lifting your face back up. If course he doesn’t think your bad for him, you just never gave him a chance, or maybe he didn’t give you a chance to know how he really feels.

“You don’t deserve a guy like him. You deserve someone who will buy you your favorite flowers in your favorite color any day. Who’ll give you compliments coming from the heart and truth. Someone who will take you places and show the world to you. You deserve someone who’ll drive you and your friends out and back home, who’ll buy you whatever you want. Someone who wants to see you smile and hear your laugh. Someone who’ll go to watch all the cringy annoying girly movies right alongside with you. And you definitely deserve someone who’ll go down on you for hours with no complaints because they want to please you and give you multiple mind blowing orgasms to the point you can’t even think properly.”

It definitely was the alcohol talking but also Jean. Your eyes already locked with his, and for the first time you are seeing him. Not your best friend!Jean, you are seeing how genuine and kind and hit Jean it. Before you can think, you kiss him. His lips were so soft. He kissed back before he pulls away.

“Oh my gos- I’m so sorry.” You say scooting back, thinking you misread the situation. “N-no it’s not th-“

“Jean that was totally out of line for me….I-I should go.” You interrupt him standing up, walking to the front door and grabbing your keys off the hook.

Jean rushes up to follows you, gently grabbing your arm and turning you back around. Before you could say anything he crashes his lips desperately on yours.

You both moved fluidly, your keys dropping to the floor as you reach to cup the back of his neck, his arms at your lower back, pulling each other in.

“Don’t go…please.” He pulls away, begging quietly, “I just wanted to ask if you were okay, if you were sure that this is okay. We’ve been drinking an-“

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of anything in my life.” You mutter back looking down at his lips before back to his eyes. Jean curses under his breath before he pulls you back in, this time the kiss is more needy and desperate. His hands find your hips, lifting you easily off the floor, your legs instinctively wrap around him as he hold you. Soft moans leave yours swallowed by his own grunts as he feels his dick twitch again.

During your little break, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sounds you made, now knowing they were faked, he is more interested on what your real ones sound like.

You grind your lower body into him as he walks to his bedroom, your lips not stopping as he sits down on the bed. You gasped into his lips feeling his bulge-it’s so big (LETS BE SO FR- he got a big dick!!!).

Jean pulls away quickly, “Shit, we don’t have to. I- sorry.”

You giggle at his nervousness watching as he stutters over his words. “Jean it’s okay….i want to.” You cup his jaw, assuring him while slowly rocking your hips over him. Jean feels his stomach tense as you put more pressure, “y-you sure?”

You kiss him again pressing your chest into his. Jeans hands move down from your hips to the bottom of your hoodie, sliding his hands under feeling the warmth of your skin. You shudder as his hands touch your bare skin sending goosebumps all throughout your body. You take this moment to trail your own hands down his chest, stopping right at the hem of his shirt, lifting it up. Jean pulls away to take his shirt off and you shamelessly scan over his toned body, watching as his abs tense when you grind over his still growing boner.

Jean slowly lifts your hoodie off, seeing you were only wearing a bra and some spandex underneath. He sucks in a breath closing his eyes and gulping before he kisses you again, moving his lips down your chin, to your neck, all the way to your collar bone. He looks up at you, your head thrown back to give him more room, softly moaning as you run your clit along his jeans. One of his arms snakes behind you as you lean more back, the other groping your breast, while he sucks over them. He bucks his hips up moaning into your skin, you both helplessly humping each other like dogs in heat.

He unclings your bra strap with the hand behind your back, the other at your hips, using his teeth to pull the bra down off you, his lips attaching itself around your harden nipples. Your hands tug the back of this hair softly as you let out a moan, a real one. Jeans tongue flicks around your nipples before pulling back with a pop and attending to the other. Moaning into you skin as your boobs bounce from your movements. You felt your arousal seek through your panties as you grind at the perfect spot, the sensation of his lips sucking your skin.

“Jea-“

“Are you okay? Do you want to stop?” Jean pulls away quickly, his lips slightly swoll and wet. “No.” You quickly say stopping your hips. “More.” You desperately pant out, wanting- no needing more. You need him in so many ways. You never realize how much better your best friend treated you than your boyfriend. How much better he made you feel. You needed him in all ways, more specifically you needed him inside you.

“I need you Jean.” You bring your head to his, “Not just like this, but more.”

Jean beastly whimpers at your words before he presses his lips to yours again, his hands attaching itself around your hips before he flips you both around. You under him as he hovers over you, grinding into you. Your hands trail down his chest, his abs, stopping right at the button of his pants. Beginning to unbutton it, he stops you and shakes his head no. “Let me make you feel good.” He says against your mouth before his lips kiss down your neck again, over the light marks he made into your skin. Your stomach sucks in slightly from his teasing fingers tracing above your shorts while trailing his lips down your breast. Jeans gaze never leave yours watching you squirm under him until his fingers hook your shorts, before he pulls them down he stops and looks at you, “Is this okay?”

You shake your head yes feeling your heart warm at hik asking for consent again, making sure you’re comfortable. “Let me hear you say it baby?” He kisses your stomach softly, over and over.

“Yes it’s okay.” You breathlessly pant out sitting up on my elbows. He licks his lips kissing your stomach once more while pulling your shorts down, slowly, teasingly. He leaves light kisses down your thighs as your shorts and panties hit the floor, spreading your legs open to see the drooling mess between your legs. Your hips jerk up when he runs a finger down your slit. “Who wouldn’t want to eat this pretty pussy out for hours.” He murmurs before slipping it inside your slicked out entrance with ease. Your walls tighten around his finger at the sudden intrusion, “Relax baby, relax around me. It’ll help for later.” He kisses your clit, sucking on the bud. Your head falls back as he sucks, his finger moving slowly in and out of you, waiting for you to loosen up.

You moan out his name the tip of his tongue moves in circles on your clit, his finger keeping the same pace. His other hand placed at the back of your thigh, holding it open. He moans sending vibrations through your spine, adding another finger, slowly picking up the pace, turning his finger upright and curling it into you. “Oh fuck.” You whimper your other leg closing instinctively. He pulls away and looks at you, “hold your legs open for me.” His fingers still moving as you bring your hands behind your knees. “Being so good for me.” He kisses the skin around your outer folds, sucking softly before he reattaches his lips to your puffed out clit. Your nails dig in your skin when he adds a third finger, moving them faster and curling them simultaneously, rocking your hips into his hand.

“So needy baby. You hear that?” He gloats, kisses your skin again, “Such a mess for me huh,” his nose nuzzles on your skin, sucking gently, “wanna hear all the sweet sounds you make, sounds so much better than your fake ones.”

Jean moans feeling you squeeze around his fingers turning them over, rubbing over your other hole with his thumb, his pinky spreading one side of your outer lips spread. You gasps, squeezing both of your holes on impulse, feeling his thumb tauntingly push barely inside, chuckling at your reaction. He keeps going feeling your walls start to flutter slowly, squeezing tightly around his fingers and releasing over and over.

Your vision goes blurry, moaning helplessly and incoherently while squirming your hips matching his movements. Your eyes roll when he picks up his speed, sucking on your clit harder, his tongue working wonders on the growing sensitive bud.

“M’gonna c- oohh-nghh-Jeann ahh,” you cry as you release all over his fingers. He takes his fingers out, his tongue immediately replacing them, swirling around menacingly, his eyes still on you as he reaches his arm to stick his fingers in your open mouth. You immediately suck around them, gagging as Jean pushes them more down your throat, moaning around his fingers. His other hand placed under your ass, pushing it up towards his face while his tongue continues to torment your quivering cunt, lapping up every last drop.

His darkened eyes still follows every movement you make when he moves his lips to bite softly and suck the plush of your outer lips trailing down your thighs. You whimper out when he bites down a bit harder leaving a marks on your skin.

Jean smiles softly watching you catch your breath, moving his lips to your hips, sucking, licking, hell even smelling you. He wants you to know you’re worth it and more, your shitty bitch ass ex never deserved you. Your body rolls into him, his mouth as he leaves wet kiss all over you, moaning into your skin.

“So perfect,” he kisses your navel, “all mine,” another right under your chest, his hands roaming all over you. His eyes never leave yours, “fucking sexy,” he sucks your boobs, his tongue laps around each of your perky nipples, his big hands softly squeezing the other simultaneously. Your back arches into him desperately while soft gasps and cute little noises exit your mouth. Jean’s hands touching you so gently, every so often he squeezes with lust, his lips swollen from sucking your skin, the way he licks all over you like your his personal ice cream.

You feel shivers down your spine when he sucks your collarbone, gliding up to your neck, nipping behind your ear. He tugs his pants down, moaning loudly on you when his dick was finally free, using his hand to pump himself a bit before gripping your hips. His lips make its way back to yours, capturing you in a kiss, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulder, resting at his neck you pull him in closer.

It was when you guys finally parted and Jean sat up you saw just how big he is. Way bigger than you’ve ever had, ever seen. You sit up on your elbows and stare nervously, “We don’t ha-“

“No, I want to….you’re just.. so fucking big Jean.” You interrupt immediately, glancing at Jean who now has a flash of confidence, maybe cockiness.

“Really? I wouldn’t know.” He shrugs a smirk forming on his lips. Definitely cockiness. Jean knew he was bigger than average. He just has a big dick and he learned the hard way when he had to take this one girl to the hospital after he went crazy fr. Ever since then he came up with a plan. Not to put his entire dick inside. Still felt fine, but not as amazing as it would if pushed himself all the way in but good enough.

“Jean?” You call out to him and he looks at you, “Please hurry up and make me feel good. You’ve been teasing me all night.”

Jean chokes back a moan, needy and bossy, he thinks. “Yes baby whatever you want.” He lowers down to kiss you, positioning himself between your legs. He rest on one of his forearms while the other hand is sliding up and down your slick. You bring your arms under his arms, your hands resting on his broad shoulders, your nails threatening to dig into him when the tip of his dick flicks over your clit.

“Focus on me baby okay?” He says against your lips, guiding the head of him to your entrance. You nod kissing him back hungrily, gasping when he pushes himself in slowly. Your eyes flutter close, your mouth open slightly as you stop moving your lips against his. “Kiss me.” He whispers moving his hand from the base of his length to your hips, massaging you softly. Your lips quiver as they move against his, the stretch of his dick entering you had you whimpering.

“Hmmm.” You moan breaking the kiss your eyes watering. He moves his hand to your clit, rubbing slowly helping you ease up around him. Jean lips kiss beside yours, “You feel so good baby, it’s okay, relax for me. Don’t think okay.”

You open your eyes and look at him, “o-okay.” You whine bring your lips back to his. Jean groans when he feels you welcome more of him in, slowly pushing himself in, “shit baby, gonna take it all?”

“I want it all, please Jean, give it to me.”

Your walls flutter around his thick long cock as he pushes himself in all the way, his own thighs trembling a bit. You bite down on his lower lip, nails digging harshly on his skin, and whining when he bottoms out, his fingers still working around your clit, your arousal seeping all around him, pooling out.

Jean lets out the most lewdest whimper, his hips bucking into you at the sting of your teeth, your nails digging harsher on his shoulders, squeezing around him before finding yourself relaxing around him. His fingers slows down the movements as your hips squirm. You release your bite, sucking on his lips before parting slightly and moaning his name, and looking up at him. He brings his hand from your clit to hold down your thigh, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in.

“oh fuck.” You pant, eyes rolling, your head turning to the side where his other arm is, his cups the side of your face as he continues stretching you, “so good for me shit, you’re so pretty taking all of me.” He huffs moving his hips a bit faster. As much as you wanted to respond, you couldn’t, not when he was fucking you so deep and stretching you out so good. Your legs trembles as you feel a pit form in your stomach. This has to be the fastest you’ve ever came. Loud whimpers leave your lips as you lean in Jeans hands, your own hands aren’t even holding on to his shoulders anymore.

“M-more, baby please, I can take it.” You plead wanting more. You know he’s holding back on you. Jean sucks in a breath as you squeeze around his cock, your walls fluttering soon after. “You gonna cum baby? Want me to fuck you faster?”

He moves faster, each thrust more powerful than before, your jaw drops, moaning louder, rolling your hips into his thrust. Jean leaves kisses all over your face as he starts fucking you for real. He lifts his body up loving his other arm to your thigh that isn’t held down and squirming around.

He looks down watching your pussy suck him all the way in, your arousal coating his dick when he pulls out, moaning at the lewd sounds your pussy makes when he pushes back in. Your hands grip the sheets, toes curling when he moves faster, at the new angle you can damn near feel him in your brain.

Jean trails his eyes up noticing his the outline of his dick bulging in your stomach, making him go feral, “fuck baby, tell me if you want me to slow down.” He mewls, quickening his pace, the sound of his heavy balls slapping your skin is the only one echoing in the room. Your body fell a limp, no sound was coming out, the pit in your stomach building up more and more.

You don’t make any sound until you feel his palm press against your lower stomach, your body twitches, “j-jeannngh, c-cum please I wannacum.” Your words slur, “have to, can’t hold it.” Your vision blurs, eyes watering as your voice trembles in pleasure.

You heard him say something you couldn’t recall, throwing your head back into the pillow as your back arched off the bed, you moan louder than you ever been, your release gushing out, your whole body convulsing under him.

“Shit baby,” Jean moans slowing down his movements but still having a rhythmic thrust, rough yet steady, fucking you through your high. He moans watching your tight pussy cost his dick with your creamy honeydew like orgasm, sucking him back in and fluttering around him each time. He feels his dick twitch a few times trying his best to hold out, whimpering and moaning. You on the other hand were in a trancing state, it felt like your orgasm was prolonged, stretched out as Jean fucked you through your high at the perfect pace, perfect pressure.

Your body jerks at each thrust, legs wanting to close but it’s held open, you feel another pit form so quickly. Your eyes flutter, rolling back as you don’t even think about it, gasping loudly when you release.

Jean watched your expressions, listened to your moans, felt you tighten up around him. He watched as you squirted all over him, the milky sap hitting his stomach each time he pulled out. After the third time, his own high hit, stuffing his dick deep inside you, holding his hips at yours. His legs trembled as he nails dig into your thighs, head thrown back moaning with you.

Your hands cup his, bringing your lips together, panting heavily into the sloppy wet kiss, moans and whimpers escaping each time you guys nip at each other’s lower lip. Your chest pressing into his when he grinds himself deeper in you, wrapping your own legs around his waist. The kiss lasted for a few more minutes before you guys part, staring at eachother.

“Let me get you cleaned up, yeah?” Jean asked tapping softly at your thighs to let him go. You pout playfully and turn your head, “no I want you to stay inside.”

“There are plenty of ways for you to get used to my size.” Jeans smirks kissing your jaw.

“Huh?!”

“Huh?”

Eventually you did let Jean go and he got up and went to the bathroom bringing back a wet towel to clean you up. He was very gently and precise about it.

“Hey Jean?” You asked thinking about something he said earlier. “Yeah baby?” He looks at up, still cleaning you. “What did you mean when you said my moans sound better than the fake ones, or whatever you said.” You ask quietly, biting your lips.

Jean was stunned for a second, “oh well uhm, the last time I texted you if I could come over you said yeah and the door would be open,” he sat up after finishing, “and I came over and I kind of heard you and your ex having sex. That’s when I stopped texting back…”

You thought for a second confused, “I never texted that.”

“Huh?” He looks puzzled while coming to lay next to you. “I don’t think I ever texted you my door will be open. It must’ve been him. I would’ve remembered andI definitely wouldn’t be having sex if I knew you were coming.”

Jean stayed quiet, trying to keep his annoyance in check, “He’s an asshole.” He mumbles. “Enough about him….Wanna go again?” You ask a smile appearing slowly on your face, straddling him.

Jean looks up at you, “Hell yeah.”

Bonus:

“You really had to take a girl to the hospital?” You exclaimed cuddled up next to up, under the sheets, both of you guys still without clothes. “Yea it was bad,” Jean laughed, “the nurse ended up looking at my dick because I was scared, she was slightly horrified and told me I needed to be careful.”

“Oh my gosh.” You covered your mouth laughing harder.

******

I got lazy at the end but finally I finished this. Not proofread !!!!!!

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