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mirrorsblogs · 1 year

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𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐌𝐞 (𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝), 𝐋. 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙧 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙖 𝙘𝙝. 𝟭𝟯𝟬+

It was cold, like most nights on the coast, with rarely any reprieve but Levi never complained. His very nature of endurance prevented him from ever complaining so he opted to sit up in bed and embrace it. Goosebumps littered his skin as he stared out the bedroom window towards the rolling sea.

I dreamed of the stars, now look at me.

Levi Ackerman should be happy. He retired from the military, the war was long over, and he never had to return to that wretched place that forced him away from the treasures of the world. He should be happy.

“Levi, what’re you doing awake?” Your voice from beside Levi startled him slightly. His eyes darted over to you, tensing unconsciously. You opened your eyes fully at his lack of response and saw his expression; ready for combat.

From beneath the bedsheets, you reached your hand to grasp his clenched fist, then, and only then did he release slightly. He looked around once again but was met with the familiar sight of the bedroom.

“You’re safe, there is no war,” you whispered, the same tone you had said every time prior.

“I’m not stupid I know,” Levi mumbled. The vulnerability of admitting the trauma his life had given him was something Levi was not prepared for so he chose the next option; avoidance.

“I never said you were but you looked tense,” you said, getting up to match his eye level while remaining on the bed. “I just wanted to be there for you.”

Levi paused for a moment, he lashed out at you again. Though you had explained to him previously that you understood his defensiveness it still made him feel awful whenever he lashed out. That horrible feeling led him into believing he could never escape the horrors he had been subjected to.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get angry.” He rubbed his hands together awkwardly.

“I know.” You smiled, Levi thought he did not deserve that grace. “But you’re getting better at recognizing it? Can’t you see?”

No, Levi could not. The progress you saw was entirely invisible to him so he simply sighed.

“Would you want to have some tea?”

“I’m up for it,” you said gleefully.

Levi got up using his walking cane, refusing assistance from you, and headed towards the shared kitchen. You remained silent as you sat down on a nearby table and opened a book knowing full well the tea-making process helped him to relax. It was clear cut for Levi, the steps were ingrained into his mind, even after all these years.

Hange taught me this trick.

Levi paused in his straining.

Hange.

The ‘four-eyed freak’ popped into his mind. For once in his life, he missed their charisma, their ability to lighten any mood, and most importantly their quirks. Levi looked around the kitchen but was met with empty space, Hange would always annoy him when he was brewing tea. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted you sitting idly at the table reading. Levi shook his head as he realized his own foolishness, he was not alone in this struggle.

“Can you stand by me?” The words came out stuttered and forced but for Levi to admit help this was the only way. You smiled at propped yourself on a nearby counter, watching him silently. “How was your day?”

“Good. Gabi dropped by and gave me some fruit she bought at the market, they’re supposed to be exotic.”

This was nice, this was normal.

“Keep talking,” he commanded.

You droned on and on about your day, recapping drama, reminiscing, sharing opinions, and so on. He never interrupted you but looked even more focused on his tea-making process.

“Done.” You stopped talking instantly and helped to put the tea and saucers onto the table. As you both sat there was a sad tinge in his eyes that you quickly picked up on.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Levi paused in contemplation, did he want to talk about it?

“Do you remember that time Hange thought it would be funny to lock us in Erwin’s office?” Levi looked down at his tea with a broken smile, his index finger rubbing the ceramic thoughtfully.

“You tried kicking the door down if I recall correctly.” You chuckled.

“You slept on one of the desk chairs until I woke you up.” Levi lifted his eyes to yours which were already staring at him. “Do you miss them?”

There was a lull. Did you miss your fallen comrades?

“Every day,” you whispered.

“How do you live?” Levi had stopped avoiding, he was tired of running.

“I have to focus on the present because if I stop to look back I’ll-” You stopped yourself as you lifted a hand to quiet your sobs. “I’ll remember how they all died, right in front of me.”

Levi regretted asking you these questions, it did more harm than good. It was better to just move on but that was easier said than done. He decided, looking at you, that he would try to live the life all his comrades dreamed of, he would try to live in peace.

“Do you want more tea?” He was mournful.

“No, I’m fine,” you hurriedly muttered, wiping the snot leaking from your nose.

“I’m gonna go back to bed,” Levi whispered, already grabbing his cane.

“I’ll go with.” The dishes were left on the table, that was tomorrow’s problem.

The room was as cold as before but Levi shirked away from it now. He glanced dismally at his bed and quickly climbed under the covers, pulling you closer than before. The newfound contact surprised you for a moment but you leaned into him.

“Don’t leave me too,” he whispered, voice gravelly, breath hot on your neck.

“I’m right here,” you whispered. Your hand grabbed his and you leaned your back further into his front. “Can’t you feel me?”

“You’re warm.” You were puzzled for a moment, Levi hated being warm or even humid. “This feels nice.”

And at least for this sole moment, he meant every word.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x yn #levi x reader #levi x you #levi x yn #aot x reader #aot x you #aot x yn #aot #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x yn #levi angst #post-rumbling arc #levi ackerman x reader angst #levi x reader angst

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imarealnugget · 2 months

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omgomgomg AoT guys reaction to y/n sending them a thirst trap of themselves

ehehe.

Yesyesyesyes, here you areee🤭

(sorry for the waiting!)

Feat. Eren Jaeger, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirshtein, Connie Springer, Levi Ackermann x female!reader

Synopsis: Attack On Titan guys reaction to you sending them a thirsty trap of yourself

Eren Jaeger

Armin Arlert

Connie Springer

Jean Kirshtein

Levi Ackermann

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potofstewie · 9 months

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Night Routine

Order-002

A/N: This one is for @cybercandy1, sorry it took so long boo, the last week of my summer program was hectic as well as this week but I'm finally back home and have time to write! I hope you enjoy this one Mirah, I for one did. Idk, I just really like writing body worship.

W/C: 0.5K

Pairing: Eren x Reader

C/W: Suggestive, body worship

Eren loves his nightly routine, it’s his favorite thing to do simply because it revolves around you. Brush his teeth with you, do your lengthy yet rewarding skincare routine with you, turn on your favorite show and watch it with you. All of that and more he enjoyed, but there was one crucial step he loved above the rest. The part where you’re fresh out the shower, him watching you change from your shared bed; his green eyes sometimes holding lust or simple admiration to his sweetheart. The part where you go over your lotion collection and carefully select which one to use for the night; the selection reminding Eren of those Bachelor shows you’d watch but less dramatic.

With your chosen bottle of the night, your trusty cocoa butter, you walk over to him and hold it out; having this moment done so many times that words weren’t needed. Eren, per usual, takes it from you with lazy glee and as you finally got yourself comfortably positioned, he’d begin to work your body like a masseuse. His large hands glide across your warm brown skin, spreading the fragrant moisturizer up your thighs as you lay on your stomach. His hands slid up to the undercup of your behind; the part between his pointer fingers and thumb hidden under the mounds of flesh. With a soft sigh, you felt his fingers turn inwards, feeling his thumbs travel from your inner thighs to just the edge of them. His hands would then journey up to your waist; muscled arms straightening out as his digits found refuge on the small of your back.

Eren absolutely loved seeing you practically melt into a cocoa butter scented puddle under his rough fingers. He enjoyed seeing you twitch periodically as his hands lathered lotion in between your legs; fingers grazing your core. He loved peppering your neck with soft kisses as his hands gave your sides attention. But his most favorite moment within the shared ritual was when you laid on your back. He loved watching your face morph into different façades of anticipation and bliss over what his hands would do next. Running his hands over the pudge of your stomach to under your breasts, he enjoyed every bit of it. His fingers would encase your breasts and begin to knead them; doing his best and ensuring they would be lathered as well.

Eren reveled in your soft coos and whimpers while his fingers gently plucked and went over your hardened nipples; thumbs even tracing your dark areolas. On occasion, the nightly routine would stop here; lust grabbing both of your reins. The rest of the night would be filled with intimate dancing between silk sheets and the music of a discarded tv show playing softly in the background. This night would be no different. As soft rain began to kiss the windows of your bedroom, your lover’s lips began to kiss the cocoa butter scented skin on your neck, allowing its taste to enter and settle in his mouth.

Eren truly loved his nightly routine, from the moment you left the shower all the way to you laying on the bed at his mercy. But he absolutely loved when the routine would transform from that of a couple’s mundane night, to an intense and passionate worship of his lover’s body.

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ʙɪɴᴅ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴛᴏꜰꜱᴛᴇᴡɪᴇ™ 2023

Got an order for me? Here's how to place it

#original stew #custom stew #aot x reader #aot x yn #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager x y/n #aot fluff #eren jeager fluff #aot x black y/n #aot x black reader

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riewritten · 10 months

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I’ve always wanted to be in those nostalgic children books; I’ve always wanted to live I their world where it was really comforting and not worry a single thing

then would you mind hearing a story about erwin smith, a character you only had known in story books & dreams, and how you beg the deities every night to live a life as adventurous as his? :) and what if the deities played around and granted it, and the only condition was that you’d have to help him adjust to your world?

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. erwin smith x gen neutral!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬. 2.9k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬. modern au, romance, parallel universe, slice-of-life, cohabitation inspired by my goofy story idea:

Even the milky way galaxy wouldn’t suffice to explain the entirety of the world. After all, you believe it could be way larger in your mind! Perhaps, the way your brain could quickly transform words into vivid motion was a gift from the deities, too. What else could you wish for?

What else could you wish for?

At age ten, you read a storybook about a valiant soldier named Erwin Smith. The book, although made for children, didn’t have any pictures. That was the least of your concerns, though, because his story awakened something in you. His character awakened something in you! Erwin is a steadfast individual, not afraid to go against the waves of the world, not afraid to challenge it, to take risks, to save lives. Was it because you’re quite the opposite? No matter, the story didn’t even pique your interest too much. You’re just enthralled by how he deals with the hurdles in his life, perhaps even how his ideals are structured in the first place. You want how he sees adventures, how his life is filled with no worries even at a story premise where a human could be worried! It’s simple and creative, and you hope your life is wired that way, too.

You grow up idealizing what Erwin looks like. Erwin became your muse in the books that you read. Even if the character’s name is Roberto, the face you’d imagine was the Erwin in your mind. Sometimes it wouldn’t apply to utterly realistic literary pieces, but if the character matches Erwin's resilience, then alas! You’d be with him again! You would be him again!

The way your brain could quickly transform words into vivid motion was, perhaps, a gift from the deities. What else could you wish for?

Oh, oh no. You wish Erwin is real. You want to be him. You wish you could be with him. Anything. You just want to be where he is. You want to be in a world as simple as his. A mental physique as uncomplicated as his. You often think about it whenever you’re riddled with stress or when your thoughts are too complicated, sad, grim, or conflicted—every semblance of intricacy in the emotions or the lack of ability to deal with the unideal.

Tch, all the gifts of life, and yet you’re still wishing for more; a grumpy deity (or so you thought) whispered in your mind as soon as you finished your prayer of “Please make Erwin real! Or please make me become Erwin! Perhaps you can have Erwin be with me? Pretty please?” What a pain in the ass. You’re lucky you’re one of god’s favorites.

You initially had no idea what it might’ve meant, but man, is it answered as soon as you wake up!

It is the Erwin in your mind in his full glory, sitting on the edge of your bed, looking as horrified as you are!

And he’s naked? Oh god, why is he naked?!

Erwin, the rational man you imagined him to be, pinched his cheeks to check if it was real. His reaction was enough to warrant an answer on your end, too. He immediately turned his back on you in an attempt to cover his body and cleared his throat, a blush evident on his features. His muscular back blocked the sun rays from your window. Perhaps it made the room warmer too. Was it his ass that made it warmer? Maybe? What the fuck is wrong with you?

“I… uh… I apologize. Please believe me when I say I did not intend to enter your room like this, even more not perverted to do so while naked.”

“Are you real? Like, the real real?”

“This is one of the moments I hope I’m not,” he attempted to hide his chagrin by turning around your room, seemingly finding something to be used at his disposal. “Would you mind giving me a spare cloth to cover myself?” he asked, still not having the guts to face you despite his imploring request.

“O-oh, yeah, of course!”

Perhaps you’re the irrational one to begin with because you did not panic at all. You rushed through your closet to find the baggiest clothes instead of slapping Erwin and calling the police. If anything, the strange stuff some grumpy man whispered in your head last night made a bit more sense. Am I really god’s favorite?

Damn, if you were, people would die to be in your place!

“H-have you eaten already?” you uttered in attempts for small talk while scurrying through your closet.

“I was fighting monsters minutes ago. I fell off my horse and perhaps cracked my head. The next thing I know, I’m sitting on your bed,” Erwin grimly answered. He sounded utterly obliterated.

“I’m planning to have my breakfast; perhaps we could talk about how to work around this there?”

“Would you mind? That’s not a normal response for someone who just had a man naked in their room.”

“Well, do you want me to slap you and call the police instead?” You awkwardly threw him your giant clothes. Not as if you could slap him and call the police. Hell, you even think it was your fault that he’s here.

Finally, Erwin faced you with an apologetic smile. “Although this sounds blunt, I appreciate that you chose not to.”

The breakfast was silent. The dishes were mundane. You can’t help but be shy because Erwin’s world is fantasy. His whole character entails adventures and playing heroes. The children's book you read about him that started your obsessive idealisms was very simple and uncomplicated. How would Erwin survive in a world like this? Deep inside you, however, is thrilled for an answer. Indeed, how would Erwin behave and respond in your world, in your shoes? He is your ideal person, the very being you wanted to be. If you follow his responses and behaviors, you could be the person you idealized for yourself.

“I’ll be frank with you,” you trailed, “I didn’t panic because I know you.”

“You do?”

And thus, you narrated the story—his story. He was a hero that led soldiers from monsters so they can be freed from a world full of walls. His ending is good—of course, it would be because it’s a children’s book—and his personality entails the generic moral lesson of being kind and thriving for freedom, even at the expense of going against the waves.

He dropped the fork. It seems like the shock deprived him of the ability to pick up his hotdog. Still, because he is a rational being who has witnessed and bested a lot of things in the fantasy world, he instead strategized on how to blend in your world while finding resources to come back to his.

Contrary to how you idealized him to overcome hurdles easily, Erwin has been frowning since you took him in. The gym down your place distracted him. The work you referred him to—the same part-time job you have—gave him the leverage to interact with different people in your world and adjust based on his intuition. He thirsts for knowledge, and you can see he somehow enjoys exploring this whole new world, yet he still frowns most of the time. He looks grim, unhappy, and complicated.

Why?

One night, you knocked on his door. “Can I stay for a while? I can’t sleep for some reason.”

He gave you a small smile and indulged you in his bubble.

This is the first time you have entered his room, and so you took your time to explore it. You gave Erwin the leverage to decorate it as he pleases. He bought wooden wallpapers for his first salary and removed the lightbulb to replace it with candles. Perhaps it was his way to find a semblance of his origins. You bought him an air diffuser with forest scent, and he liked it, too—his bedroom reeks of vintage and ancient, a very fitting demeanor for his character.

“So, how may I help you? I might not be the best in night talks, but perhaps I can try for my provider.”

“Tch, you’ve been so independent since you came here. If anything, you could be more qualified to be my provider,” you joked, then your features changed in worry. “So, how are you adjusting?”

“I’ve been good! The amenities of this world are exquisite. I’m glad to have the privilege of—”

“You can tell me the truth, Erwin.”

His eyes widened. Then it became lament. It eventually became a rueful smile. “I really do enjoy my time here, but I still feel lost and worried for the world where I came from. I bear lots of responsibilities there. I am certain I died after falling down the horse and need to come to terms with that, but I am still worried. I don’t think it will pass anytime soon.” Still, the character tried to console you. “But you’ve been a great help. Without your kindness, I wouldn’t be able to survive this hurdle. It’s not enough to say I’m lucky I ended up under your roof months ago.”

“Don’t worry too much about me. I’m sure you could survive even if you ended up in someone else’s crib. You’re built like that,” you defeatedly yet confidently replied. “I’ve idolized you since a child. If I were a character in some storybook in your world like you were in mine, I would be a mere extra. I bet my being wouldn’t suffice for how well-built you are. All this time, I’ve been observing how you respond to things, how you approach this challenge, but now I can’t help but worried. I thought it would be easier for you.”

“Hm,” it’s needless to say that Erwin is intrigued by your words. You never opened up like this to him—you’re too busy teaching him the ways of your world—and he didn’t want to pry even though he was curious. “Why do you think so?”

“Because you’re perfect. You were built to be ideal and simple because you embody a valiant moral story.”

He called your name, quite confused yet still willing to understand. “Humans are much more complicated than that. A mere storybook and the moral story it entails would never define the intricacies of our being.”

You turned your eyes sideways in guilt, “S-sorry. That’s just how I see you all this time. My fixation over you stems from my desire to live in a world where it’s much simpler and free of worries. A world where comfort can be easily attained after overcoming a hurdle.”

He nodded, finally seeing where you were coming from. He tipped his head sideward, his smile becoming more warm as the candlelight illuminated the perfection of his features. He is indeed your ideal person—the one you want to become. No, wait. It’s becoming blurry now. It seems like the desire to be with him overpowers the want to be him.

“You’re feeling bad for seeing me that way, aren’t you?” he teased. “You see, if you were a book character and I came across your story, I would be enthralled at how easily kind you could be—to let someone in your house even at the strangest encounters. I would be jealous of how smoothly you help without qualms and in return. I would be fixated on what your character could offer, too.”

You looked at him with wide eyes; heat crept up your face. Still, Erwin was honest; hence he didn’t falter. He remained with his cordial smile, his elbows now leaning on the table and chin propped on his palm. He seemed to like observing you the way you observe him.

Oh, the night is becoming warm. Was it the candle?

“W-well, that’s nice to know. Perhaps I really have to unlearn how I see humans in story books.”

“Indeed, you must. You seem to be putting me on a pedestal way higher than yours when it’s the other way around.”

“Me? Way higher from you? That’s not true!”

He shook his head teasingly, “It is. The Commander is barely wrong with his observations.”

“You are in this one.”

“See, if you want to indulge with the intricacies of my thoughts to deconstruct how you see me as a character, don’t you think this night routine must be compulsory from hereon?"

“You want me to visit your room every night?”

“I can visit yours from time to time, but I rather bring my candles instead of the lightbulb,” he clarified. “It eases my homesickness during the dark.”

“Don’t you need to sleep early? You seem to be someone who has healthy life habits.”

“I’m quite too disgruntled to sleep lately. I’d rather listen to you talk all night than struggle alone.”

“What a time to fluster me, Commander.”

“The pleasure is mine.”

Night talks became a routine. Erwin likes patterns. You’re the one to visit his room for a week, then the next week, he’ll be the one to visit yours. You could talk in the living room, perhaps the dining room while munching on some snacks, but you never did. Going to each other’s rooms might be somewhat of a symbolic routine. It means being more vulnerable, being allowed to enter a much deeper facet of your characters. Bedrooms can offer a space in your personality that common areas couldn’t give. Perhaps it was because how you act in the living room is the same as how you’d act outside, much more concealed and reserved? Amidst the ponders, however, you could see Erwin deeply enjoying the arrangement, too.

He stopped frowning. Your coworkers could see him smile more. One day, he proudly told you that he had attained prime membership at the gym. He offered you to jog with him during the mornings, even. The gym eventually hired him as a model, which meant more income, and he was visibly happy when he paid the bills of your house for the first time. You brought him to a local library, and he did get the brightest smile at the sight of bookshelves. Both of you would sit at the corner of the shelves during weekends, then quietly indulge with the pages. You would maximize the gift of quickly transforming words into vivid motions while he would explore world history, taking a sheer liking to documentations of societal change and revolutions.

The day talks are about the mundanity of life, while the night talks are deeper run-throughs of your and his ideals. Of his and your philosophy in life. Of your long-term goals and perspectives and how the other could intervene with them. Erwin plans to study to become a teacher. You smiled so wide, aiming to support him in every way possible.

“Every school asks every student for a guardian. I’m so excited to put my name in yours! I’ve never been someone’s guardian!”

“I seem to be older than you, though, and to quote you: I might be way more fit to be your provider.”

“Don’t boast at me just because your modeling sideline earns way more than my side jobs.”

“Heh, look at me adjusting in this world way better than you.”

“You have the pretty privilege, Erwin.”

“I think you’re way prettier than me, but I wouldn’t disclose how you can maximize that. I want to indulge in my leverages for now.”

“Go on and indulge with your success. You make me love the mundanity of my life, so reap whatever reward you could have for that.”

“Oh,” Erwin was a bit taken aback, “really? I do?”

Well, was that a blunt statement on your end?

You tried to excrete the heat covering your face through a yawn. “I’m getting quite sleepy now. Let’s call this a night!” Then you hurriedly stood and gestured to leave.

Erwin closed the book he was reading and then, for the first time, escorted you to your bedroom. He opened the door for you, but just before you could close it, he held onto the knob, scooted his face nearer to your ear, and whispered, “You made me love mundanity, too. It wouldn’t be long ‘til I accept being killed by a crack in my head, so long as your being continues to indulge someone like me. If it helps to tone down your fluster, I’d be pleasured to take any indulgence you’d grant to my being.”

You abruptly turned your head to face him, "Huh?"

"Reap whatever reward I could have, you said."

Oh my word, when did he get this blunt?

Instead of retracting to widen the proximity, he just reached for your hand and gave it a chaste peck without breaking eye contact.

Then, as swift and gentle as ever, he closed the door for you. He could see how bad of a flustered mess you were. It was very evident with his smirk milliseconds before he shut your door.

His character awakened something in you—no, bloody hell! He’s not a mere character anymore! Erwin’s being, indeed, is someone unafraid to go against the waves of the current arrangement, but you never thought he’d also challenge the structure of cohabitation both of you have right now!

What a pain in the ass. You’re lucky you’re one of god’s favorites. The grumpy voice said the night before Erwin came.

You used to think of the ideal in your mind whenever you were disgruntled at the complexity of your mental physique. Never in your life did you feel that the intricacies of exploring your feelings would be as thrilling as this. Indeed, one of your wishes was heard by the deities. How lucky it is to be one of god’s favorites.

🔖 @frenchdyer @watyousayin @collinnmckinley @aeanya @xiaotopia | SUBSCRIBE TO STORIES

pls pardon me for this 4-hour word dumping. the last time i had written something was last month. writing has been very hard lately but i still want to try bc given these turbulent times, i would die if i lose the capability to write. i consider this as my writing exercise before I indulge with my WIPs and pending requests. ily.

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bakugokemkatsuki · 5 months

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Eren Yeager x Reader

**Warning(s): Cussing **Reader is GN **Eren and Jean being idiots **Platonic (ig) **Word Count: 181

The survey corps was not for the weak or lighthearted and being in the Levi squad was definitely not for everyone. Today Eren and Jean ended up in trouble, after you informed them that fighting was a bad idea. They both ended up on stable duty for the next week. After their stable duties they joined you and the rest of your friends for lunch.

Y/N- “Hey how was stable duties.”

Eren- “Awful and being stuck with Jean’s annoying ass wasn’t helping.”

Jean-“Really Yeager you want to go there?”

Y/N- “Boys stop, you don’t want to get into more trouble. Who knows what Levi will make you do next.”

Sasha-“You two are so stupid. The whole stunt was idiotic.”

Y/N-“I don’t like to say ‘ I told you so but-‘”

Eren-“What the fuck you mean you don’t like saying that? Its literally your favorite phrase.” Y/N-“Maybe if you two weren’t so stupid and always fighting I wouldn’t have to say it all the time.”

Eren-“Fine fine you win.”

After that you all enjoyed finishing dinner and preparing for the upcoming expedition.

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animereactsbybkemk · 6 months

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Attack on Titan Characters React/Repond:

-Accidently hurting you (GN)

**Warning(s): Cussing, Hange is they/them, crack

**Characters: Connie, Hange, Armin

**Open to requests

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crisalidaseason · 2 years

Note

how do you think each of aot characters kiss?

Hard question, I'll do my best!

Warnings ⚠️ Descriptions of kissing! PDA, Making out.

AoT characters kissing headcannons

Mikasa

Shy kisser, at least in public. Her kisses are very domestic, quick and usually happen early in the morning, right before sleeping, when she's been appart from her partner for too long. I think kissing holds a deep meaning for her and making out isn't frequent unless is a super intense situation.

Eren

Clingy and annoying kisser, but not in a bad way. He just loves physical affection so kisses are a must! Also doesn't care about PDA at all, will kiss his partner in public shamelessly. He is a messy kisser, will in fact try to eat his partner's face.

Armin

Cute devil kisser. Much like Mikasa, he is not into PDA and prefers more of a domestic setting when it comes to kissing. But he is also a menace a little clingy too, kisses are very slow and soft, also very frequent although he asks for consent every single time!

Connie

Emotional kisser. I know, he is constantly joking, but I think he would be dead serious about affection. He gives his partner little pecks on the cheeks and lips out in public, but real kissing and making out is for important and emotional moments. Since he is a funny boy, he also gets sad easily, so kissing is kind of his serotonin booster.

Jean

Passionate kisser. He is a hopeless romantic, loves kissing his partner anytime, for no reason at all. A very very good kisser, be careful, your legs might not work afterwards. Loves PDA, but HATES seeing it (like, the audacity!). Does the little smile while kissing.

Sasha

Joker kisser. She can't kiss seriously, always teasing her partner. LOVES imitating the "lady and tramp" spaghetti kiss or sharing a pocky. But on a serious note, she is such a cute kisser too, she holds the partner's face and kisses them all over.

Levi

Doesn't kiss in public AT ALL! Kisses are extremely intimate and private, not so frequent. His kisses are usually very soft and long (it usually ends with him kissing his partner's forehead).

Erwin

Much like Levi, he's a complete private kisser. He is way more passionate and his kisses are way more frequent than Levi's, but still holds a lot of vulnerability and intimacy. Doesn't understand the concept of making out though, but will indulge in it for his partner.

Hange

Honestly, doesn't really understand the appeal of kissing but will try for their partner's sake. Will do it like a science experiment and probably ask people how they do it just for researching purpose. For a clueless person, they kiss very well! They prefer brushing noses.

Reiner

The crying kisser. This man is a depressed bean. Much like Connie, kisses are a serotonin boost for him. He is a very desperate kisser, maybe because he's scared of loosing his lover. His kisses are fast, intense and very wet from his tears.

Berthold

Quick and innocent peck kind of guy. He is tall, making out and intense kissing is not something his height allows him to do (unless the partner is also very tall, but Bertie is almost 2 meters!). Although in private, while in bed, he is a very slow kisser, just basking in the moment and caressing the partner's face.

Annie

Awkward kisser. Just like Hange, can't see the appeal but only because she is a little too scared of intimacy. Once she feels safe and more open, her kisses are very romantic and careful. Will hold her lover's neck. LONG kissing afternoon sessions.

Pieck

Pieck is an angel! She loves to kiss her partner anytime and anywhere. Her kisses are lazy and sleepy, but very dreamy too. Although she hates kissing with chapstick or lipstick texture going on, so she will remove it or ask her partner to remove it as well if they wear it.

Porco

Low-key pretends he doesn't like kissing in public but is a sucker for PDA. Also smiles while kissing (I love this man) and is such a messy kisser too! Lots of tongue.

Colt

Extremely shy kisser, even in private. He like to take things slow and calmly and his kisses reflect that. He loves to give small pecks to his partners lips, nose and forehead. He will absolutely die from shame if he tries making out with his partner.

Zeke

Honestly, not much of a kisser. He enjoys it, but doesn't really care (only does it for his partner). His kisses are quite good and he tries his best to keep the beard very clean and tidy to make the experience better.

436 notes · View notes

strawhatsoraya · 2 years

Note

the last one (haha who am i kidding, i'm never done w. you), i promise. may i pls pls pls request an aot fic with a jealous jean x reader (i said what i said). can be angst, can be smut, can be whatever u like babey the world is ur oyster. bonus points if it includes strawberries and wine somehow. wink wink.

My love, I have had you waiting for this for like a month. I'm so sorry. Again, I don't know why time gets away from me so easily. I see your jealous!jean and I raise you an arranged relationship/contract marriage au with a jealous!jean. I had a really rough weekend so this was an attempt at distracting myself. I wanted it to be better than this!! But I don't think you would sit down for 12k of this. Maybe another time. So I limited the word count down to 4.5k lmao.

Please enjoy. Oh, yes, I included your requests for strawberries and wine *winks* You know I can't say no to you.

A Messy Inconvenience

JEAN KIRSCHTEIN X FEM READER | NSFW WORD COUNT: 4.5k CONTENT WARNING: profanity because Jean has a tiny bit of a potty mouth, lots and lots of groping, dry humping, alcohol consumption (would it be a fic I wrote if they weren't drinking to some degree??? i think not), nipple play, lots of teasing, jealous possessive jean likes to do a lot of biting and marking, even if frankly he has no right to be jealous, he is a HYPOCRITE, that should be a warning, also jean does whatever he wants then acts like he did nothing, so another warning, he throws dishes in sinks and breaks them, another warning, the man breaks every domestic law and rule, i will fight him A SUMMARY: Jean and Y/N are in a marriage of convenience, and have been for several months. There is no reason for feelings to be involved, but when someone decides to hit on Y/N at the gym--Jean has to come to terms with emotions he has no power to control.

An arrangement of convenience should always remain that: a convenience.

Four months had passed since you first walked through his door, carrying very little in your arms. When he had asked you about the rest of your possessions you had smiled—tight lipped, abashedly, almost secretive. I didn't have much to begin with, you had said. I'll just consider this a fresh start. It had always been this way. He had met you in college, as you walked down the corridor with your head in the clouds, carrying photocopies from course books you couldn't afford.

His chest was solid when you ran into him, papers scattering into the air like tinted flower petals reminding you—one by one—that you didn't belong at that school, no matter how hard you tried. He still remembers the hole on your slip on shoes, and the way the peek of the purple sock teased him. He still remembers the flush on your cheeks, the watery pathetic look in your eyes as if you had been holding back from crying all day long. He still remembers the way they laughed at your patched up backpack, and how you held your head high.

And he remembers the way it filled him with fiery rage, how it consumed him and prodded him to want to burn the whole establishment down—just like now. He watches quietly as he sits upright on the bench. His fingers curled into fists, gripping so tightly his clipped fingernails threaten to piece skin. There's a man next to you, smiling down at you with a lecherous sheen to his eyes. Jean does his best to sit still, to stretch his arms above his head and not picture himself ripping his eyeballs out. His hand touches your elbow, and Jean stands up, reasoning yelling in the back of his mind to grab his attention.

The contract flashes through his mind's eyes, taking precedence over his anger.

An arrangement of convenience should remain a convenience. Your lives were meant to be lived in privacy, without the meddling interference from each other. Those were rules strictly discussed and agreed upon. Jean's mouth twists into a scowl at the memory of his signature, neatly scribbled at the end of the paper—the same one that he kept a copy of in the drawer of his nightstand.

You had every right to entertain that idiot if you liked—even if Jean thought he looked like he couldn't count past ten. You had every right to smile back, the way you did, and laugh at whatever joke he had just said. You had every right to live a life away from him, as long as you came back home every night, to sleep in your own bed, in your own room.

He grabs a towel, and sprays sanitizer on the bench, finding cleaning his own sweat infinitesimally more productive than to focus on the bitter jealousy gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Jean knows he has no leg to stand on, no right to stride up to you and swat his hand away. He has no right to feel cheated, or uneasy—to feel like you're being tugged away from his fingers.

But he does, so he spins in place and walks towards you, feet slamming down on the gym mats—muffling his anger. He tries to think of excuses to give, something or anything that would make him sound less pathetic than he felt. He is within earshot when he hears you.

“No, I won't go with you,” you say flatly, your gaze is pointed as you blink. “I'm married,” you tell the man. Jean is surprised when he feels your hands on his bicep. The way your fingernails softly dig into his flesh remind him that this moment is real. It's not just another fantasy that plagued him at night while he laid in bed skin slick with his own sweat. This was you, standing your ground. This was you, holding on to him.

At the moment it didn't matter whether he was just an excuse for you to push away unwanted attention. Jean stares the man down who looks appropriately abashed before his mouth twists in anger. Jean feels his own mouth water. The words are cocked on his tongue but you're pulling away, leading him towards the exit and down the stairs. They fizzle and die out in smoke with every step taken.

He had hoped the heat of the shower would wash it all way. His hair sticks to his forehead under the shower head. Eyes closed, water running over his skin, he tilts his face to the ceiling in hopes that thoughts of you would evaporate from his mind and follow the steam away from his body. Instead, you envelop him in your heated cloudiness. He sees the band of your sports bra digging into the soft flesh of your torso. He can picture, in annoyingly perfect detail, the sweat that clung to the small of your back, the way drops drifted lower until they disappeared into your spandex. The same spandex that had made him uncomfortably tight in his gym shorts when he saw you bend at the knees for a squat.

Jean stays in the shower long enough for his fingers to prune. He stays until thoughts of you turn hazy, less significant. When he makes it out of the shower with wet hair, a towel around his shoulders he sees you coming out of your room, and into the kitchen. His eyes track your movements, a predatory hunger prowling inside him like a caged animal. Jean coughs into a closed fist; a sad attempt at composure. Your curls are wet, soft ringlets sticking closer to your skull than he is used to. He is used to seeing them wild, and bouncy, swaying with every move you make—but this sight isn't unappealing either.

Your pajama shorts are, frankly, a bit too short for polite company. Jean tilts his head in barely restrained admiration as you move towards the fridge and bend over to reach for something in the back. Ass cheeks taunt him as they peek out from under the legs' hemline. Your white t shirt is snug over your chest, and see through enough he can almost picture every detail on your bra.

Jean swallows thickly and drops himself on the couch—the same spot he always occupies as you cook.

It's where he can watch you the best. It's usually innocent, almost pure but tonight Jean feels filthy as he takes in your silhouette. He can't stand the sight of your hair, the way you keep brushing it away from your face with an impassive hand. He can smell your shampoo—imagine it. He had smelled it enough times when you got too close; the scent of coconut and vanilla. He is irritated at how accurately his mind can recall it, how he can recall the back of your neck and how badly he had wanted to kiss it then. Jean licks his lips.

He wanted to kiss it still. Badly.

Jean is still irate when he sits down for dinner. His body is tense from the constant clenching of muscle. His jaw hurts, but he chews anyway, not wanting to appear ungrateful. Your mouth; however, is treacherous. A sinful siren leading him to murky waters. You wrap it around each morsel, and around your fork, as if he was made of wet paper; wafer thin. Jean swallows his desires with a swig of wine. He did not often drink, much less wine, but you had insisted; another month in faux marital bliss.

You had a strange sense of humor he couldn't help but entertain. It pissed him off to no end.

The wine is sweet on his tongue, and he wonders if it's the same for you as you throw your head back, determined to get every last drop in your glass. Your tongue dips around the rim of it, throat exposed for his devious eyes to take in. Jean shakes his head, pretending his brown hair is in the way of his eyes. In reality, he's trying to shake your hold off his mind. He's trying to dislodge the imagery of that man at the gym running his tongue up the column of your throat. Jean blinks, a heat over his eyes as he finds the hollow of your neck, and fights the urge that blooms inside of him.

He wants to kiss you there, on the soft flesh that connects your shoulder and neck. He wants to follow up the trail to just under your ear, and he wants to mark you time and time again; a signature left on skin drawn with blood and teeth.

Jean bites down on his last morsel of dinner and barely misses his tongue. He is nauseated by his own desires. He thinks there might be something innately wrong with him and the way he wants to pull you up to the table and rip your clothes off, so he can fuck you before the desire kills him first.

He thinks he hears your voice saying his name in ecstasy in his ear, loud and clear, so he slaps his hand on the table in an attempt to make a louder sound. His blood rushing to his ears, beating against the walls of his sanity, threaten to drown out your voice.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, brows drawn together in confusion. Jean shakes his head, and smiles—soft laughter following his gesture.

“There was a mosquito,” he lies with ease, wiping an already clean hand with a napkin. He sees your eyes narrow, and sees doubt peek from behind the brown in them but he ignores it. Jean had bigger, bolder things to worry about—like the sudden erection in his pants. He moves his hips in the seat, trying his best to adjust himself under the table without using his hands. It doesn't work. It especially doesn't work once you have decided you're done with entree of the night and move on to dessert.

Strawberries had never seemed like a poisoned fruit before but Jean starts to question reality when your white teeth bite down on the bright red flesh of one. Juice spills over your bottom lip, a faint red that trails down your chin. You hurriedly bring up a hand, collecting the drips on the crook of your palm. Jean breathes out noisily through his nostrils, a rogue hand going to his crotch where he palms his erection. To adjust, he lies to himself, to push it down in a way that would not pain him, but the stroke of his hand only reminds him of what he is missing.

Your fingers—the ones that grasp another berry and another berry. Your lips—the ones that suck the whip cream right off the red tip of another strawberry.

His breathing is barely controlled, and he feels heat slide up his neck and face; lust filled fingers seeking to gauge his eyes out. The same eyes that refuse to let you go. They follow you as you move to carry dishes to the sink. He doesn't know when he does it, but he stands up nonetheless, as if he is tethered to you by an invisible string. He follows you into the kitchen, his own empty dishes in his hands.

“You know,” you start, placing the dishes in the sink. You're full, and content, but it wouldn't be right to finish dinner without at least bickering once with Jean before bedtime. Also, it helped to ease the tension that flooded your body at the feel of his presence. He was standing closely behind you. Too close.Enough to make your heart race. “Since I cooked dinner yet again, the least you can do is do the dishes.”

You turn around, determined to laugh your way out of this situation. Jean's arms are around you, plates clattering in the sink as he drops them in haphazardly. The noise is sharp and it fills your ears as Jean's mouth clashes against yours. There's a gasp in the back of your throat, one you swallow promptly when he pushes against your lips. The kiss is tight lipped, forceful. His hand is searing against your skin where he grips the back of your neck, thick strong fingers digging into your flesh. His free arm curls around your waist, and he pulls you in close, crushing you against his wide chest. A flush blankets you when you feel his hard on press against the softness of your belly.

Jean thinks he might suffocate. His shoulders stiffen as he keeps his mouth on yours, trying to weigh your reaction. He thinks he should wait for a sign from you, anything that will grant him access to the inside of your mouth to find the tongue that teased him time and time again earlier. He thinks he should practice patience but the scent of your breath heavy with the sweetness from the white whine threatens to intoxicate him; to strip him from whatever meager remains of inhibitions populated his mind and body.

Your eyes flutter open and close. There is heat at the pit of your belly. You're aware of this feeling making you tremble. You're aware of the embarrassing throb between your legs, the tell tale sign of rushing blood in a state of arousal. Your body wants his, and it only makes his erection all the more evident. You're not sure if you should return his kiss, but you find yourself pressing tighter against him, eager to see what would happen if you wiggle in his embrace; tease him just a tiny bit.

As you slip your hands over his chest, your lips break away. Jean slots his mouth against yours, his tongue slipping in between your sweetened lips. In a rare moment of tenderness, Jean brushes his tongue against yours, urging goosebumps to run their course over your brown skin. You gasp in his embrace, and it was all the incentive he needed. He didn't have to think anymore. He could just take.

So he claims your tongue as his—sucks on it with greed he tried to hide with pretenses and lies. His hands go rogue, they act recklessly as they smooth down your back and grasp fistfuls of the tender flesh of your ass. Jean sucks on your bottom lip, groaning as his hands keep moving. They slide over your hips, and over your belly until they find your breasts. He is nipping at the corners of your mouth, mumbling things you don't catch while he kneads your tits. You are too preoccupied by the building wetness between your legs to care about the words he's trying to say. From experience, you know it's nothing important. Jean had the innate ability to talk the most crap when you needed him to the least.

You don't respond, and it upsets him. So he pushes you against the sink. You cry out as the edge digs into your backside. Jean picks you up by the waist and places you back down on top of the edge of the sink. You mumble something about the faucet and Jean reaches around you, blindly as he is sucking on your tongue, to move the faucet around—anything so you'd stop complaining, so you'd stop interrupting him. Your taste floods his mouth; strawberries and wine, a combination he knows he'll never be able to recover from now. Your tongue marks him everywhere it touches, tattoos of memories digging into the skin of his jaw, down the column of his throat.

His fingers are tangled in your curls. Jean grunts when you bite down on his neck, tugging at sensitive skin. He pulls you close, tightly, as if that would help ease you under his skin. Your mouth is unforgiving, and Jean lets you go as you suck on the hollow of his neck, feeling his grip on you becoming elusive. He can't contain you or this heat slowly building in the kitchen. You are an arsonist and he is an abandoned building, too tempting, too lonesome and swallowed by darkness for you not to set on fire, to not stand back and watch as the flames eviscerate its foundations into dust.

So you dig your teeth into his skin, time and time again in your path for revenge. You leave a mark for every smart quip he threw your way, for every time he laughed sarcastically at something you said. His hand slams on the door of the cupboard above you. You look up, startled, eyes clouded with lust. His dark lashes obscure the flame behind his eyes, but you see the glistening saliva on his bottom lip, and the flush of his cheeks. You see his chest rising and falling, hear the rattling of his breath and in that moment you know that Jean Kirschtein is a beast barely contained.

He is a hunter seeking to be reformed but salivating at the chance of one more kill.

His body is trembling, fighting the urge. You look so decadent underneath him, trapped between him and the kitchen sink. Your neck is marred by angry teeth, and a hungry mouth. His mouth stretches into a lazy lopsided grin. That had been his doing, and he should feel no satisfaction. He had no right and no reason except that he just wanted to. Just like he just wanted to pull your shorts down, and push your panties to the side and fuck you right there and then, on the sink, with the dirty dishes behind your ass.

A newfound breath in his lungs he goes back to your mouth, a stupid moth to a burning flame. In his mind, somewhere small and dark, he knows he should stop kissing you. He knows he should end things here before they become more complicated, before you hate him in the morning. He knows this, but his body no longer belongs to him. He thinks, in agony and in lust, that maybe it belonged to you now as you slip your hands under his shirt and run your nails down his back. He hisses into your mouth, a small groan reminding him of his hardened cock. Jean thinks of pulling away but the moment his lips are not on yours, he sees that man again—that fucking ugly face smiling down at you. If your tongue is not in his mouth he thinks about him, kissing you. If his tongue is not pressed flush against the pulse of your neck, if he's not feeling your erratic heartbeat reminding him of the throbbing of his cock—he thinks of that bastard, running his hands all over your body, pulling moan after moan from you.

He groans again as he kisses you, too much teeth and tongue, too much passion to the point you cry out when he bites down too hard; he tastes blood as he licks your bottom lip in apology. He must have lost his mind, he thinks, as he licks it again and again until he can't taste copper anymore, until you grow softer, more pliable in his embrace.

His hands are under your shirt, fingers slipping under your bra. You cry out as he pinches hardened nipples. His tongue is back on your neck, and he kisses over the marks already left, and sucks where he thinks it is too light; not stark enough. He signs over them, again and again, as he twists his fingers, causing you to moan.

“Jean” you breathe out, your trembling hands going to his wrists. You hold on to them loosely, as he continues to tease your breasts. You bite down on a whimper, and almost lose your resolve when he looks down at you through his dark and thick lashes. “Why are you like this?” Suddenly, she wanted to add, but Jean's hands are relentless. His gaze is unwavering as he watches you squirm under his touch. In all honesty, he wanted to tell you. He wanted to confess the times he had thought about you this way, responding to his touch so eagerly that he'd wake up in a sweat, aroused by the ghost of your scent in his sweatshirt.

Still, he couldn't tell you. Not now. Maybe never.

“Service,” he pants out, brushing his thumbs against your nipples. You arch your back at his touch, a soft lewd song humming in the back of your mouth. “Consider it a service for you making dinner.”

He pushes his hips against yours as he curls his fingers around your throat. His hold on you is tight, almost suffocating. You gasp both at the feel of his erection, mercilessly rubbing against your heated cunt, and at the pressure he builds with his fingers. Your eyes flutter close, another soft moan filling your mouth. Jean thinks he's at his limit, but he ignores it. He pushes past it with every thrust of his hips, seeking out every sound you can give him; every moan, sigh, and whimper he can collect. He stores them in the back of his mind for later, for when his bed feels cold and empty.

A heat swirls at the pit of your stomach. It goes around in circles, tighter and tighter each time. You're familiar with the sensation, enough that it makes your toes curl in anticipation. You gasp and shout, holding on to Jean with one clammy hand. Your other shoots out behind you as you shout in surprise when one particular thrust rubs against your sensitive nub just right.

“I'm gonna cum!” you yelp as his face comes towards you. He's chuckling in your ear, and your hand moves again without you realizing it—your body's own way of trying to ground itself from the flight of ecstasy. Your fingers graze metal, and you hear the running water. Your breathing is harsh against your own ears. Jean is laughing again as you feel him reach around you. You feel something wet and cold splash against your back and you jump in his arms.

Jean pushes against you, one hand clamped tightly around one hip. “Easy, you'll fall off,” he says against your temple, a small smile stretching his swollen lips. You dig your nails into his shoulders, wanting to bring him back to the more pressing matter. You had been so close and he had slowed the speed of his hips, causing small jittery motions of your body every time your oversensitive clit received friction.

“Why did you stop?” you ask him, but his eyes are unfocused. His jaw is set, and he looks everywhere but at your eyes. You feel his gaze on your mouth, and your neck. You feel him staring at your chest. He is reaching around you, holding his hands under the running water. He brings them towards you, and slides them over your chest over and over until it soaks through your t shirt. Your bottom lip is trapped between your teeth as you watch him. He is laser focused. The sight of white teeth pushing down on a berry colored bottom lip shouldn't be so arousing. You consider suing or at the very least writing a strongly worded letter, affronted at how wet it made you; wetter even.

It was starting to become embarrassing how much you craved him at that moment. You whimper when he wets his hands again, and slides them under your shirt. They're cold against your overheated back, fingers unclasping the bra. You narrow your eyes as he expertly reaches through your sleeves, pulls down the straps with your help, and tugs the bra off from the front—as if he's done this before, many many times.

You don't want to think about it. In fact, you hate that you are, even as your nipples are erect. You bite your tongue in hopes of staving off petty jealous things you want to ask and say. You don't get to expend too much energy in that endeavor. Jean never ceases to surprise you, and he commands your attention by grasping your breasts over your t shirt.

His mouth hangs open as he watches, amazed at the sight of the brown areola peeking through the wet fabric; translucent and teasing. You feel you should say something now, while you still can but the words never make it out. His mouth is back on you, on your breasts as he sucks on the nipples through your shirt. His kisses are gentle at first, testing, exploratory His curiosity becomes hungrier, slightly feral. Jean feels himself go blind as he sucks on your nipples, teeth grazing the t shirt until his own skin prickles from the sensation.

You egg him on, thrashing in place, seeking out his hips time and time again with yours. He feels your wetness through your underwear and straight through your shorts. He groans as he sucks loudly, his hands finding your ass. He brings you closer to his hips, moves them against you, feeling sickeningly satisfied with himself. It is him that's making you unravel, and it is him that has you here in disarray, shirt soaked through with a mixture of water and his saliva.

And it is his hair, your fingers tangle up in, and it is his name you call out when you cum, time and time again.

When you come down from your high, when your hips stop moving so viciously against his throbbing cock, Jean finds the will to pull away. He stands away from you, a small amount of drool oozing down his chin. He wipes at it casually with the back of one hand. His gaze is heavy, and his face is flushed in a way that makes you self conscious of your own.

“I'm gonna rest for a bit,” he tells you as he takes another step backwards. Your eyes flit from his face, to his abused bottom lip. You can't help when it drifts lower, to the obvious bump in his sweatpants. Jean turns away from you, and starts walking away from the kitchen and down the corridor towards his bedroom.“I'll do the dishes later, so don't fucking touch them,” he says as he pauses midway to twist his torso. His finger is pointing at you. You're enthralled by the way he frowns at you, at how casually he has changed the subject, as if he wasn't desperately rubbing his cock against you seconds ago. “That's my job, okay?”

He leaves you on the sink, the water running behind you. You startle and jump to turn it off, a shaking hand grasping the metal knob tightly. You try to ignore the slick sensation between your legs, how cold the shirt felt against your hot skin. You try to ignore the sick feeling taking over your chest, and how uneasy you felt now that Jean was gone. Now that his mouth and his hands weren't goading you into orgasm, your mind felt slightly clearer.

You shouldn't have done that.

An arrangement of convenience should remain that: a convenience. Entertaining this, whatever it was, would only make this complicated; a messy inconvenience. You set your jaw, and your convictions and decide that tomorrow morning, when your mind wasn't clouded by the phantom kisses Jean had dropped on your skin, you'll have a serious talk with him.

Lines needed to be drawn clearly in the dirt, in blood, or whatever it took.

212 notes · View notes

your-averagewriter · 1 year

Text

The Battle for Trost.

Summary: At the Battle for Trost, the cadets have to make a plan to get into the supply room. The elaborate plan goes slightly wrong for Jean but luckily (y/n)'s right there next to him, ready to save him.

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: blood, weapons, violence, death? titans

Smashing through the window I land inside the building alongside Jean and Marco. I look around seeing the others land inside also, the glass shattering. I take a couple of breaths to steady myself and then I walk forward seeing more cadets tucked under a desk. Crouching down in front of them, I slot my blades back into their sheaths and look at the cadets confused. They’re drenched in sweat and tears, and a few of them are decorated with blood splatters.

“What are you doing?” I ask calmly but with no response. “Aren’t you guys part of the supply team?” I ask tentatively with a few nods in return. “Then why aren’t you fucking supplying?” I ask in a monotone voice but the aggression is quite evident. The girl cowers back slightly whilst the other leans forward.

“The Titans! They’re in the basement!” He yells, scared. “We didn’t know what to do!”

“Work it out, that’s what you’re meant to do. Kill the bastards and supply. That is your job!” I say, now raising my voice. I sigh rolling my eyes and standing up, stepping away from them but Jean has a different idea. He grabs one of them by the collar, pulls him up and punches him square in the face finishing what I started.

“You abandoned us!” He yells at them.

“Not to say he doesn’t deserve it but we don’t have time,” I say as Marco holds onto Jean pulling him away. He sighs before calming down.

“Fine. But later if you survive this you better believe there will be consequences.” He spits before relenting.

Then suddenly one of the walls is smashed by a titan’s face.

“Jean get down!” I yell, pulling him down to protect the both of us from the rubble.

Two titans look through the hole in the wall and the whole room erupts in panic. Screaming, shouting and disorganised chaos. The rest of the supply team hiding in various parts of the room flee, the only thing they seem to be good at, leaving us.

“There’s too many people!” Someone exclaims and runs out following the crowds.

I pull myself up from the floor, ripping out a shard of glass lodged in my hand with a hiss and I stare at the skinless faces that just implanted themselves in the wall.

I watch them emotionless as I see a large fist crash against their faces. My eyes go wide and I stare in shock before I’m interrupted by Connie, Mikasa and Armin flying in, crashing through the windows. Connie tries to explain the titan who just punched the other titans stating that he’s trying to help or at least isn’t an enemy at this point in time.

I watch in awe as it destroys other titans, stamping on their napes and seemingly using martial arts moves against them, kicking them and tripping them the way we’re taught. He knows fighting moves and also knows the titans’ weaknesses.

“Whilst it’s great he’s helping us or whatever, we don’t have any gas and our blades are fucked and there are titans in the basement! We need a plan to get the supplies.” I say interrupting them.

“She’s right,” Armin says, wiping some blood off of his head.

“I’m sure there are some weapons somewhere around here,” Jean says. “It's a military police base, there’s bound to be some sort of guns.”

“Guns don’t kill titans,” Mikasa says matter-of-factly.

“Do you have a better idea, do you wanna try to strangle a titan instead?” I ask her and she stays silent so we head downstairs to find the weapons.

Jean, Marco, me and a few others search for guns and carry out the boxes once they’re found. They’re old army shotguns with dust on the crates.

Armin devises a plan on how to distract the titans in the supply room so the best of us can cut their napes and kill the titans. He explains it a couple of times to make sure everyone understands and then everyone gets what they need. Marco gives me his blades as he’s been selected to shoot instead and my blades are blunt. Thanking him I walk over to Jean who’s testing the guns despite being on the blade side of the plan.

“Good luck,” I say, placing my hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll need it.” He says with a sigh.

“Don’t fuck it up,” I say and pause looking at his worried face. “But if you do…I’m right there next to you.” I say before walking off again to get in my place.

The plan’s set up, everyone’s in their places and I start to hear the lift start to lower. I can feel the anxiety levels rise as they’re lowered and I look to my side. I nod to Jean before turning to look at the bottom of the lift. The moving lift has got more than just my attention, it’s luckily got the attention of the titan dawdling around the room.

The cadets look terrified as they stand on the lift staring into the approaching titan’s eyes, they get closer and closer but they’re not allowed to fire. I wait for the rogue shot of a nervous cadet to sound but I don’t hear it, only the command from Marco to shoot.

“Hold.” He pauses again. “Hold!” He says louder hearing the jittery cadet in front of him. “And fire!” He shouts, the cadets unleashing round after round of bullets.

They aim for the eyes as we run across the beams and jump slicing the nape of the titans. Mine falls to the ground and hear sounds of success from the right of me but I turn to the left of me and see Jean backing away from his titan, a very much alive titan, turning around towards him. The titan walks towards him slowly and I instantly jump into action. Without even hearing a command, I propel myself towards the titan, using its face as a hook for my ODM gear and swiftly cut the nape of the titan.

“Watch out!” I yell as the titan falls, me landing next to it.

I rush over to Jean who I see with eyes wide backed up against a support beam. The titan thuds to the ground behind me as I kneel in front of Jean.

“It’s okay.” I say calmly taking his hands in mine. “It’s dead. You’re safe.” I reassure squeezing his hands. He looks up at me and stands up before enveloping me in a hug.

“Thank you.” He says, sincerely.

“Of course, I told you I was right there next to you.” I say with a rare smile usually saved for a more private setting.

We separate and I look around at the others, no titans seem to be living which is good and all the humans seem to be living which is also good.

“Is everyone okay?” I yell, not being able to see over some of the titan bodies.

“There were a couple of complications!” Reiner yells back.

“Is anyone hurt?” I ask.

“The only thing hurt is egos.” I hear Reiner yell and a couple of people laugh.

“Thank god.” I whisper to myself pulling myself into Jean’s side.

I see Marco’s worried face as he looks down at us. I give him a thumbs up and a small attempt at another smile and he sighs in relief that, probably, his two favourite people are still alive.

AN: Thanks for 500 followers!

Is everyone excited for Attack on Titan, season 4, part 3, part 1? They're really drawing this out haha.

Hope you enjoyed reading!

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actuallys8n · 2 years

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gn!reader | one-shot | drabble

AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED

| a / n | : heehawww this one was veryyyy intrusive i have nothing to say except i'm sorry and please please read the warnings :) <3333 this is Eren’s version of my last Armin idea…

| warnings | : sub!reader, mean!dom, manipulation, degradation, themes of CNC, bondage, dacryphilia, spanking, dry-fucking in a barn oops

| word count | : 1.6k

CONTENT MAY BE TRIGGERING

when he ties you up…

... he’s the type to do it suddenly, taking you by surprise when his strong grip is stuck on your right arm and dragging you out of Sasha's parents' countryside home (they'd kindly invited you and several others over for Sasha’s birthday dinner).

"Eren, what's wrong—"

"Quiet," He snaps, dark eyes singing you with a harsh glare and grip tightening. "You know what you did."

Truth be told, he was right. You had been blowing him off all night and talking with his friends in a fickle attempt to make him jealous because he'd been a little too distant towards you lately. However you were not expecting him to be this heated.

A slam through the door of the decrepit old barn behind the farmhouse and a shove to your side lands you on your back in a hay pile, full moonlight dimly casting a white glow on to the fuming man before you. His strong forearms are flexed tight and his hands hold on to a thick strand of rope he'd picked up from the ground. With chest heaving, he glowers down at you and commands,

"Strip."

It's an order, and you obey it. Mere seconds pass before he has you kneeling and naked on the dirty barn floor— wrists extended behind your back in an offering and tears stinging your eyes because why here? This barn is filthy and smells of must, not to mention all of your friends are waiting for you inside. Surely they’d suspect something’s going on? But Eren ignores your obvious discomfort, angrily wrapping the coarse rope in taught cuffs around your upper arms and wrists.

“Not everything is about you.” He hisses, hot breath fanning over the skin of your neck with the words. “Bend over.”

You obey.

“Precious baby needs all my attention, all the time huh?”

The synthetic fibers rubbing rough against your skin leave behind hot, screaming marks and you briefly wonder if giving your boyfriend the cold shoulder had really been a good decision. Eren has never been one to shower you with affection and attention— rather just keeping you close. Arm candy.

At least that’s how it has felt as of late.

Salty tears trickle down your cheeks and into the straw bale your face is pressing against when you feel Eren wrap tight knots around both of your ankles. He is careful to leave a twenty-inch segment of rope connecting your legs and roughly takes hold of your hips with his free arm, hiking them up high and displaying your ass to his greedy view.

Knees scraping against cold concrete, chest and thighs pressing against an itchy hay bale, Eren seals your fate with a final tie of that last segment around your wrist cuffs – thoroughly sealing your arms and legs together. You let out a soft whine at the uncomfortable position, calves and ankles aching as your body bends into the hog tie with nothing for support except a straw pillow.

“E-Eren this hu-hurts…” You say with a sob, desperately stretching and rolling your shoulders in an attempt to alleviate the pain building in your muscles from pulled so taught. However the movement only causes more pokey, prodding straw to stab into the naked skin on your upper half.

“Aw,” He sighs from behind you, strong hands now gripping harder on your hips and pushing you further into the bale, spreading your cheeks. The cold night air ghosting over your core has goosebumps threatening to raise across your heated flesh and only adds to your mounting frustrations. What is he doing? Why?

“Do you want me to kiss it all better, baby?”

You want to nod but refrain, more tears streaming mercilessly down your cheeks because you’re not used to this side of Eren. He’s quiet and brooding, but he has never been anything but sweet to you. Yet here and now, after the little stunt you pulled earlier, his once kind kisses have turned to rope burns and the contrast launches your mind into a downward spiral. You must have really upset him — because those loving and gentle lips are far away now. Split in a sinister grin because he’s silently been waiting for this.

For you to fuck up and give him an excuse to punish you. His perfect little pet.

Eren knew exactly what you were trying to do the second you stepped out of his hold and towards the drink table where Armin, Jean and Connie had been chatting earlier that night.

His number one rule has always been to stay away from his friends. He had made it clear to you on your first date that he was the jealous type, and that no one he hung around had a sense of boundaries with the exception of Armin. They would all flirt with you, regardless of who is attached to your side.

He was right, of course. None other than Jean Kirstein had mosied over to you earlier in the evening to strike up a conversation after a few drinks, and there was not a single person in the room who couldn’t predict what was coming next.

Well, all except for you.

The seed he’d planted in your brain had begun to bloom into a beautiful flower before his very eyes. You are the helpless mouse wandering into a trap he’d set just for you.

A little less attention than what you’re used to is sure to elicit the response he’s looking for: retaliation.

And what does retaliation mean for him? Well, justification to punish you of course.

“I wish you could see how pathetic you look.” Eren mutters, mind distant in thoughts of fucking you senseless and wandering hands playing with the pliable flesh of your ass and thighs. His emerald eyes gleam in the moonlight, hazy from the alcohol but focusing in hard on your cunt. “Fuck if you weren’t so damn perfect…”

Smack!

“Would’a left you behind a long time ago.”

Smack!

“You’re so whiny.”

Smack!

“You want me to do everything for you…”

Your eyes squeeze shut in preparation for another spank, but it doesn’t happen. Instead the abusing hand comes to a rest on your searing skin and rubs several soft, soothing circles into the red marks from his palm.

“You’re so helpless. What would you do without me?”

Again, another sting against your backside from the harsh contact of his slap.

“No one’s gonna take care of you like I do, Y/N.”

More sobs shake your body at his words, heat hopelessly pooling between your legs because he’s right and you know it. Your body knows it.

Everything about the situation is painful and you can’t help loving it. The bombardment of new emotions and sensations is nothing short of incredible. You’ve wanted him for years, it was a dream come true when Eren Jaeger finally told you he wanted you just the same.

You sniffle, opening your eyes and peeking through cloudy vision at the man who’s still pressing your weight into the hay bale. He’s so handsome— disheveled dark brown hair falling in a perfect frame over defined and tanned features. And you can tell then and there, just by looking in his eyes that he sees no one but you. That he wants no one but you.

“You love taking care of me.” You hiss rather boldly, flexing against your restraints again and huffing because you know they’re not going anywhere. Eren just chuckles, low and dark and in agreement with a final —pat! pat! to your swollen rear end.

You both knew it the second your paths had crossed. A healthy, normal relationship was never going to be in the cards for the two of you.

The dull sound of the zipper from his jeans and the countryside crickets fill your ears for a moment until the sound of your own heartbeat ultimately outweighs them both. Eren coos when your body goes slack beneath him, reeling while the old rope works wonders at keeping you all tied up for him. Completely exposed all for him. He can’t help but groan and slap the blunt head of his now exposed erection against your hole– hand working up and down on the shaft a few times while a thick line of saliva passes his lips and drips over the pretty pink tip of his cock.

“I love getting to fuck you.” Eren snaps, yanking on the portion of rope connecting your biceps and pulling your body straight onto his awaiting dick. You yelp and bury your face into the hay, ignoring the painful stabs of dried reed against your cheeks because the pain of being taken unprepped from the back is much, much worse.

“Eren–!” You cry out when his hips meet your ass in a single, hard thrust, the grip on your restraints unyielding. Using his power over your shaking form, he tugs harder on the rope and bends your back in an arch so he can lean down and press his warm cheek against your own.

“You’re mine. How many times do I gotta tell you?”

He suddenly releases the rope on your arms and you fall forward helplessly, tears and sobs making their return because you felt nothing except regret in that moment. No one had landed you in this position except yourself, all because you thought you deserved more of Eren’s attention. “Don’t talk to my friends when I’m not around.”

His strong hands are back on your bruised hips, rocking you over his hard-on at a tantalizingly slow pace– reveling in the squelch of your walls sucking him in and the soft whines you are filling the air with. But one particularly sweet moan that meets his eardrums sends sharp, electric tingles down the back of his neck and out the tip of his cock.

“Babyy…” He purrs, mood shifting suddenly as your cunt squeezes him tighter. Your mind is quickly losing its battle with your body, giving in to the building pleasure between your thighs. Your walls clench around him again and you sigh with another little wiggle against your restraints.

“Knew you’d understand.”

Your favorite, familiar pair of lips place soft kisses on your shoulders when Eren bottoms out in you again.

“Keep being good for me and I might let you cum, okay?”

heyyyy so yeah i have a thing... i should probably get help.

master list

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jeankirstein4ever · 17 days

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Love Songs - Modern!Eren J.

❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚

A/N: Match up for @ermbabyel! You guys have been such supportive angels, sorry there was such a long break but the vacation was lovely!

❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚

Your first impression isn't ideal - it's the dead of night in a CVS, exhausted and bored with the current color of your hair only to be met with the loudest group of boys in the universe. Eren, Connie, and Jean had had a long night of drinking and playing at some dive bar, barking laughing, and yelling throughout the store.

" fifty bucks if you dye your hair, 'ren," Connie calls out some stupid bet, leaving you to side-eye them as they get closer and closer to you - their volume becoming overbearing.

"Hey, what color should he -hic- dye his hair, d'you think your color would look -hic- good on 'em." Eren throws his arm back halting Jean and Connie as they approach you.

He smiles apologetically, "Sorry about them, they're a bit rowdy when drunk, but your hair is pretty."

You two make chit-chat in the isle, Connie and Jean had wandered off in search of food, while you offered advice on what color would suit him, and what kind of haircare to use to keep the color for longer.

He’ll pay attention to you as you speak- practically trying to drink you in; like a crow, he’ll get distracted by the glimmer and glittering jewelry that adorns your person. Mesmerized to a mind-fogging extent.

He invited you to one of his shows, a bit pouty when you tell him your aversion to louder cramped places, "Well maybe I could play something for just you?" A sly smirk plastered on his drunken face.

You get his number and finally talk yourself into inviting him over, opting for a movie night, and laying out a plethora of blankets and prized stuffed animals. The knock on your door startles you a little opening it, "Hey pretty girl", his dumb smile lazy across his lips, guitar in his ring-clad hand.

He adores your enthusiasm as you lay out the horror movie options, ultimately letting you pick whatever movie you want, "if we don't get through them all I guess I'll just have to come over again."

It felt cliche but he couldn't pay attention for the life of him, you were too, too much of everything, and eventually, when you relaxed into his arms he wanted to eat you; heart and soul.

The next couple of times he comes over, it becomes harder to ignore that desire.

He'll hold your thighs firmly in between his hands, the pads of his fingers rough from years of playing guitar. Licking a long stripe against your wet dripping hole, making you whine. "gotta stay still baby, wanna hear all your pretty noises, can't do that when you're runnin' away from me."

Nipping at the flesh of your inner thighs, one hand interlaced lazily with yours, the other working your body like you were the only thing he knew, drawing his fingers in and out in agonizingly long strokes.

saliva was spilling over your lips, mouth agape and gasping for him, " 'ren, 'ren too full, can't." In contrast to his hands, his hips work fast, too eager to feel you, his hands lifting your soft hips to him, practically bruising your cervix at this pace.

He's shirtless hovering over you, necklaces and hair sticking to his warm skin, "fuck baby, wish you could see yourself, god, gonna-"

Cum spilling out of you onto the flesh of your thighs and his abdomen, Eren collapses into a heap on top of you, his head laying in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping at your shoulder, "you sound prettier than any love song."

❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚

Blue Jeans - Lana Del Rey

Favorite - Isabel LaRosa

Glue Song - Beabadoobee

Real Love Baby - Father John Misty

Homecoming - Kanye West, Chris Martin

Speed - Kali Uchis

She Wants My Money - Dominic Fike

I. Pink Toes - Childish Gambino

Power Trip - J.Cole, Miguel

Kiss - Prince

❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚

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mirrorsblogs · 10 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞, 𝐄. 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙝𝙤𝙡, 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙚

There was a certain energy that came from being in an environment like this. You stood off to the side observing the organized madness in rapture, people passing by, they paid no mind to your curious eyes. With a deft hand, you tried your hand over the various alcohol bottles present on the counter trying to decide on which concoction you wanted to drown in tonight.

Vodka, whiskey, rum-

“Did you want to stand there all day?” Someone shouted at you. Clumsily you poured the nearest drink bottle into your cup and hastily walked away from the table. You ignored the glaring eyes of those you kept waiting along with some jealous people lining the main room. These types of parties were never your scene but you decided to indulge your boyfriend’s wishes for just tonight though you began to regret that decision as he remained sparse.

For a moment you contemplated throwing your drink away and going back to your apartment but decided to explore just a little more. The glares of either envy or jealousy followed you all the while you walked down random hallways. It felt as though you got more and more lost in your surroundings but it was exhilarating to lose yourself physically. Though that could have been the alcohol talking.

“Fuckin’ rich people,” you whispered as the hallways seemed to stretch on and on. How big was this house?

Stopping in a hallway you noticed a larger portrait with all of Eren’s family with Jean’s and Mikasa’s. They were old money, something you were so very not. The judgmental eyes of Grisha Yeager looked down at your scantily clad body. That man had never respected you, much rather preferring a wealthier girl for his son than you. These girls were effortless where you worked yourself to the bone, they were graceful where you were headstrong, they were everything you were not.

Why did Eren ask me out?

Why did he want me?

Vaguely you registered shouting coming from the end of the hall which would have steered you in the other direction had you not recognized the voice.

“What do you mean you lost her? She’s my girlfriend, how do you lose her? Find her or I’ll-”

“Eren,” you mumbled, going for a side hug. Instantly you felt his muscles relax as a scared Falco nodded in thanks before quickly fleeing the scene.

“Where’d you go?” He questioned, placing his chin on the top of your head. His previously angered tone was nowhere to be found as he began to bask in your presence. You had this effect on him, he was always calmer around you.

“I walked around the house, and got lost.”

“Figures, did you want me to get you another drink?” Eren asked as he threw on one of his signature smirks.

“No I’m ok, I have work tomorrow anyway.” You could feel the frown on his face at your answer. Eren separated from you slightly to show you his expression but did not comment.

“Ok, let me bring you to the group then,” he whispered, leaning down directly into your ear. At his action, you nervously glanced around only to find that you both were in a secluded room far from any party-goers.

“Or we could stay here for a bit?” You slyly suggested, pulling on the hem of Eren’s shirt.

“Or we could stay here,” Eren confirmed, after a pause. He slid a hand to the side of your face and brought your lips to his. He tasted as he usually did, of cedar. Gently he guided you both to a nearby couch where you straddled him instantly.

“I like looking at you like this,” you whispered, upper half upright so you could stare down at the man for once.

“Don’t get used to it, princess.” The nickname made your heart flutter as he was the only one in the world who would call you such. It was ironic considering how you managed running a club, academics, and a job which contrasted heavily with being an uptight princess. Eren had initially used it to piss you off but quickly found the effect it had on you to be different, more fluster-inducing.

“Jean is going to kill us if he finds us making out in his house,” you said. Eren laughed as he kissed you hungrily again, his teeth bit softly into your bottom lip. You rolled your tongue over the bit part enough for Eren to slip his tongue into your mouth. For a moment you gasped at the sudden intrusion but quickly adjusted as you both fell into a sort of rhythm. A little squeeze from Eren on your hip there and a roll from your hips there made the experience all the more intoxicating.

“What the hell!” Jean yelled as he burst into the room. You broke apart from Eren and with no shame began laughing at his reaction. Eren chuckled too but moved you away from Jean as he stood up. “You should go find them, Sasha said. Maybe they’re lost, Connie said.”

“Sorry, horse-face! We’ll leave,” Eren said with an air of humor in his voice.

“Shut the fuck up Yeager and get out!” Jean shouted, pointing at the door behind him. Eren’s smile widened as he began to leave but not before holding a hand out to you. Grasping his hand you both made your way down the hall, retreating from the angered Jean.

“I told you!” You whisper-shouted at Eren.

“I don’t regret it,” Eren whispered in the same playful tone.

“Did you see his face? I swear it was red!”

“There was steam coming from his ears!”

After some more jokes traded between the two of you, the main party room came back into view. Instead of those glares that followed you everywhere, they were replaced with vying and impassive stares from everyone. You began to shy from it all until Eren kissed your temple.

"They're all jealous," he whispered.

"Of what?"

"You."

Eren instilled a confidence you never knew you could possess. Then there was the case of his smile that he never used to wear with pride as he did now. It was a newfound sense of happiness that you brought that caused it to form. Losing himself in the pleasures of life was something Eren was comfortable with until he saw you. Rather than drowning in alcohol he would much rather drown in the love you offered. Though you might have never asked him to quit his usual lifestyle Eren did, he changed. He did it for you.

As individuals we were hollow, together we are better, we are whole.

#eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x yn #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x yn #eren yeager #eren yeager angst #aot x reader #aot x you #aot x yn #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x yn

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