She nearly stumbles out of her chair, mind already reacting to the intercom’s echoes before her body parts are fully functional. “I’m the fucking man of your dreams, aren’t I, Miss Ackerman?” Looking thoroughly offended, he tosses the mop to the ground before sauntering over, eventually trapping her still-seated form between his forearms and bathing her in his fresh scent. “Le-Levi.” She traces the now-familiar muscles of his torso, outright failing at the attempt to not appreciate every rise and depression. The sardonic voice startles her beyond measure, and Mikasa’s eyes snap open to not the mailman but her maid, posing with a mop as if midway through cleaning her office floor – and wearing nothing but a pair of green boxers. “Who are you calling ‘mailman,’ CEO brat?” Mailman.” Once acquired, she squeezes the flat object to her chest like a most precious commodity, shutting both eyes at the immense joy and pride she feels at the achievement. “Congratulations.” The smiling, middle-aged lad hands her the envelope, and Mikasa practically robs him of it with desperate hands. The door to her office clicks open, and in walks the man of her dreams – not a dashing knight or a charming prince, but a casually-dressed mailman, here to deliver the signed contracts affirming the biggest business deal she has made to date.
Before long, her eyelids are drifting shut, and her mind finally stops reciting business speak. No matter how spectacular the view of the city’s other high rises proves to be, by now every visible perspective seems redundant, whether she is appreciating it from right against the glass or back in her seat. The flexible material she rests against is far from comfortable, but it has been a hellish week, and Mikasa’s body no longer cares for the minor details or the fact that the sun is still shining brightly against her windows.
“I need a nap.” She mumbles to herself before reclining backward in her leather chair, nearly slamming both knees on the underside of the desk when she elevates long legs in relaxation. It’s Thursday afternoon, and the CEO of Ackerman Consultants is dreadfully bored in her high-rise office.
A part of her wants to play tug-of-war with her hands and see which side of the papers will split apart first, but she knows that the parties involved in this dull contract will probably not find torn documents very amusing. With a groan, Mikasa slams her forehead down upon her mahogany desk, unable to read through any more of the seven pages being held between slackening fingers. Lost profits incurred as a result of any such breach… fuck it all.” “…If either party is found to be in breach of this Agreement, the offending party will indemnify the offended party for any legal fees accrued as a result of the breach. Her weekly maid service goes awry…on a day other than Saturday, and in a place far more perilous than her home.Ī/N: Yes, you should read the first two parts prior to this for the goodies context! December 28th, RivaMikaWeek Day 4 | ZUMANITY (Smut Day)