#jean kirschtein x y/n

[4izawas]

𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘. | 𝐉. 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: more than anything, he just wants her to be happy.

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: attack on titan | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: jean kirstein/f!reader, former eren jaeger/f!reader, mentioned background eren jaeger/jean kirstein | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 17.94k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: canonverse, spoilers for chapters 131-139, angst, character death, previously established relationship ( eren jaeger/reader), smut, slow burn?? maybe kinda, jean has ptsd, formerly unrequited love, terminal illness, lovemaking, gentle sex, kissing, hand holding, slight scratching, missionary, mention of animal death.

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 in what felt like a long time, Jean didn’t know what to do. 

It had been a few months since their hellish lives had come to a head, and while the remaining members of the secondary Levi Squad and their Captain were happy it was all over, the realization that Y/N knew Eren’s plan months before he went through with it was crushing to them. 

Armin and Mikasa had suspected, of course — they all had, if they were honest, she and Eren had been so serious that they were more than willing to murmur back and forth about wedding plans when everyone else was around, and every time they did it warmed their friend’s hearts ( and made another’s hurt, but he was too content with the fact that Y/N would be happy to even think about fighting for her now ). In hindsight now, though, Jean guessed, it was all a mask for them to keep Eren’s plans all hush-hush. He knew that if he’d found out, even he would have definitely fought to keep Eren on their island where it was safe regardless of how often they’d bickered back and forth, because whether he admitted it or not, Jean did care about Eren and he wanted him to live.

“You’re all leaving?” Her voice is shaky and quiet, a stark difference when compared to how she’d been hoarse for two weeks from the way she’d screamed when Eren’s Founder had collapsed. 

The Captain scoffs, and Jean winces at the sound. He’d always been more than tolerant of Y/N, more so than he’d ever been of the rest of them even, but ever since she’d admitted that she knew what Eren was going to do before he did he’d held her at an arms’ length just like the rest of them had. He doesn’t say anything, of course, because he hadn’t spoken to Y/N even once in the months following her confession, and every time he avoided talking with her Jean could see how much it hurt her — he’d even say with confidence that she’d prefer being struck by him than ignored, but the Captain didn’t even look at her anymore unless he absolutely had to, so that wouldn’t happen any time soon either ( and honestly Jean had a strong feeling in his gut that their Captain was hurting far more than he wanted to admit, not only about her confession but about both Eren and Commander Hange as well; everyone knew that the Captain had a soft spot for them both regardless of how he spoke to them ).

Jean could admit that he understood how betrayed the Captain felt if he was honest. 

“We don’t belong in Marley, Y/N,” Conny mutters, refusing to look at her. He’d avoided her completely since they’d found out, almost as much as the Captain, even; Jean immediately looks down at his shoes when he sees the way her face falls. It hurt him to look at her, hurt to see the way she was desperately searching all of their faces for some hint that it was a cruel joke as a means of some sort of revenge on her for holding her tongue while remembering how she’d blurted out a confession to being aware of Eren’s plan for mass genocide. “There’s no way we’d ever stay. We’re going back to Paradis.”

“But the peace treaty—!“ Y/N argues softly, mentioning the treaty that had come about thanks to Eren’s actions coupled with their own, but no one there really gives half a shit about the treaty but her at that point. they’re all far too impatient to get on the boat and leave Marley for good. 

“Deal with that yourself if it’s so important to you,” Mikasa says through gritted teeth, interrupting the other woman. “We have to get back, Historia’s still on bed rest from giving birth so Armin’s holding down the entire island right now.”

As Jean boarded the boat, he remembered the look on Y/N’s face when she found out Armin had left without saying goodbye to her specifically, and he recognizes that same look on her face as she watches Conny push the Captain’s wheelchair over the onramp to board the boat. “I’ll wait here for all of you,” she whispers, her eyes never straying from the Captain’s back, “even if it takes a whole ten years, I’ll wait—“

“You’ll be waiting a hell of a lot longer than that,” Conny grumbles under his breath, not intending for her to hear it but her hearing it all the same. Jean’s heart plummets in his chest when he sees the look in her eyes shatter and a barely visible veil wash over them.

The same walls she’d lowered with them one by one back in their cadet days had just gone back up. 

She whispers gentle goodbyes to all of them, getting huffs from the majority of the group, a single muttered complaint from Mikasa, and a quiet “Goodbye,” from Jean himself, but the last person she looks at still won’t look at her. Regardless, she bids him farewell in the only way she can now even though she knows he won’t answer. 

“Goodbye, Captain,” she whispers softly, a heavy silence filling the space between them all, and as the boat pulls away from where it was onced docked at the pier Jean sees the tears form in her eyes; they’d all hurt her by leaving this way, he knew that they had, but what were they supposed to do? She could have talked Eren down, she was always able to talk him down, but she didn’t — instead she ran off with him to Marley and helped him trick Falco before starting the Rumbling and a mass march for genocide. 

Regardless of this, though, Jean still has an aching feeling in his chest telling him that he wasn’t making the right choice. 

He looks up at her again, the breeze making her hair move ever so slightly with each soft burst and her skirts dancing around her legs as she stood there watching them leave her, her arms hanging limp at her sides as she stood alone for the first time in her life. She wasn’t making a single sound, just watching them go with tears running down her cheeks before she looks down and lifts one scarred hand to wipe them away with the backs of her knuckles, tearing her eyes from them for the first time all day today. 

Go. 

Jean didn’t know who or what told him to, he just knew he needed to get back to her, and he ignored the strange surge of familiarity that came with the urge. 

Go back onto the pier now. Go, before you’re too far. Before it’s too late. 

At the last second — and with everyone he’d boarded the boat with shouting for him to come back in clear panic, even the Captain ( something he took a silent pleasure in later, because apparently he did care about them all after all despite the facade he always put on ) — he makes a mad dash for and hops the railing on the deck of the ship then jumps again, barely catching himself on the edge of the  pier. Splinters puncture his fingers as he claws at the wood and his feet kick at open air as everything from his shoulders down dangles off the side. He looks up, his hair wild and poking into his eyes, and sees that she’s still not noticed thanks to the bustle on the rebuilt pier. The voices of his friends echo behind him as he finally finds a foothold and pushes himself up and onto the pier, resting on his hands and knees for just a second to catch his breath before looking up so quickly his hair flips out of his eyes and then pushing himself up. 

He’s running to her now, pushing his way through the crowd in his desperation, and Y/N looks up just as he throws his arms around her, cradling her close to himself and whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I won’t leave you too, Y/N, I promise…”

He feels her hug him back tightly and start crying into his chest, and he just holds her and repeats himself while petting her hair gently, neither of them looking back to the boat that was still ever so steadily getting further and further away from both of them, and for the time being they don’t care at all. They just hold one another, taking comfort in the familiar warmth they both gave off even as it began to rain and people around them started pulling out umbrellas. Jean carefully pulls her over to a stand and buys one, opening it up while letting her keep her arms around his waist before offering his arm. 

“Let’s go back to the apartments, Y/N,” Jean whispers, referring to the apartment set  gifted to them by the Marleyan government as reparations, and she just nods tiredly before linking her arm through his and resting her head on his bicep. 

I hope this makes you happy, runs unspoken in his mind, but he shakes it away and they walk away from the pier in the rain together, their backs to the ocean in a way they both wished Eren had chosen all those years ago. 

It  had been so long since he’d had the time or privilege to notice, but Y/N was an exceptionally hard worker. 

Maybe that was why Commander Smith was so fond of letting her help him in his office with his paperwork that he’d send into the Capitol in Sina; she wasn’t one to make mistakes, and it showed as she worked hard in her government issued office in Marley as she worked tediously going over the peace treaty offered to Paradis by all of the major nations that had formerly condemned it and it’s residents’ existences. It took hours of the day away from her, forced a worrisome amount of exhaustion to overtake her normally breathtaking features, and in between every little fix to the documents she made, she had what felt like endless visitors from hizuru and other countries popping in to add their own pieces and request slots to sign the treaty at the upcoming celebration of three years’s peace that Marley was hosting. Marleyan officers were, of course, also among the foot traffic that made its way in and out of Y/N’s office, only the majority of them now had a different respect for her in a way Jean hadn’t experienced in his years in Marley undercover.  

“She’s beautiful for a devil,” one had muttered, his friend chastising him immediately for calling her such a name after three years of such easy, unparalleled peace, and then his eyes had widened in shock when he rounded the corner and realized Jean had heard what he’d said and was staring him down in an anger he’d not been on the receiving end of in years. 

“She’s so kind! She’s nowhere near being the devil we were told they’d all be, and you know it,” his friend had hissed, bowing to Jean immediately. “I apologize for what he said, please forgive us both.”

Jean had looked at him half in disgust and half in hesitance; this was the first time a soldier from Marley had bowed to him despite the three years of peace their nations had shared, and he didn’t really know what to do. On the one hand he was grateful that the soldier spoke up for her, but on the other he didn’t know whether or not this was all a front to save face since he’d overheard them. What to do?

He was about to answer when his attention is caught by someone else. “Oh, let them alone, Jean,” Y/N’s voice had called from the doorway to her office, and everyone turned to look at her. She was leaning against the doorframe, and the brightness in her voice and the way she looked hadn’t managed to betray the exhaustion Jean saw clearly in her eyes. Absently he wondered if Armin was half as tired running the military back home in Paradis, but he shook it off in favor of quietly huffing towards the two soldiers then striding past them to join Y/N at the doorway to her office. She smiles at him once he reaches her, and says, “Thank you,” before ushering him inside her office and closing the door behind them both. 

Sighing heavily, she tiredly walked towards the chair that stood behind her desk and then practically collapsed into it, her head in her hands, which was where they were now. “I’m so tired, Jean — I don’t know what to do anymore,” she admits, “Why did they have to choose me as the standing foreign ambassador for Paradis? I’m going to make a mess of everything.”

Jean sends her a soft smile and strides over to her, leaning against her neatly put together desk. “No, you won’t — you’re doing a great job, I promise. You’re just tired is all, because frankly you haven’t been sleeping enough.” It was true; most nights after he forced her to go home and to bed he’d hear her walking around downstairs absentmindedly even at the wildest hours possible, whether he’d woken from some nightmare of the past or he himself had stayed up working. 

“You think so?” she asks softly, looking up at him with slightly widened eyes. He nods, and she sends him a fond smile. “What would I do without you here with me?” she asks sweetly, squeezing his hand, and he practically melts. 

“I — I — I have no idea,” he murmurs, looking down at her and how she held the back of his hand to her cheek with his own burning in an almost violent blush. She chuckles softly, a smile curling the corners of her lips upwards ever so slightly. 

“I think I’d be a wreck,” she whispers, squeezing his hand again one last time before letting go and standing from her seat. She strides back to the door and opens it, popping her head out and politely asking a maid, “Would you mind readying a pot of tea and a cup of coffee for my office?” Jean hears the other woman ( she was much older than Y/N, he knew, and she’d worked in the building for years before the Rumbling had reached Marley’s shores — despite that, though, he’d heard her telling the other maids that she’d never been treated as kindly by anyone else as she was when she worked under someone dubbed ‘a devil’ by the government ) give a swift affirmative and take off as fast as her middle aged knees would allow her. 

“That woman’s a saint,” he mutters, sitting down in one of the comfy leather chairs in front of Y/N’s desk. “I’m only twenty-two and my knees and hips seem to want me dead for what I've put them through — and don’t even get me started on the pain from my back!”

“That’s because of our use of the 3DM gear,” Y/N replies from the door, closing it gently and striding back over; Jean hears the heels she insisted on wearing to work ( no matter how many times he told her they were impractical and she’d agreed ) clicking against the dark hardwood floors as she approached him. She slips in front of him and sits on the lip of the desk with a soft smile on her face. “They’ve always caused physical issues with the bodies of Scouts, retired or otherwise, due to their prolonged use in the field. Captain Miche used to complain of it often.” She smiles wistfully, and Jean remembers that before she was on the Levi Squad with Eren and himself she fought under Captain Miche Zacharias — at least she did until her own squad was wiped out thanks to the Beast Titan, and starting with Captain Zacharias himself. Jean frowns as he also remembers that Y/N had witnessed the entire thing, the Beast Titan letting her go after recognizing her as ( unbeknownst to them at the time ) ‘the girl his little brother was smitten over’. She’d been forced to watch from the back of her horse in horror as he was ripped to pieces by titans right in front of her; she’d told Commander Smith in front of everyone that Zacharias’ last words to her were for her to save herself and warn the others of what they’d seen, and she’d not spoken of him since. 

“So you’re still as smart as Hange said you were,” Jean says through a tired grin of his own instead of what else he was thinking of, and he places a hand on Y/N’s knee as she looks away from him seemingly to hide the look on her face; unbeknownst to him her face is burning from embarrassment, but regardless of whether or not he’d ever notice ( would he feel the heat she could swear was emanating from her cheeks? Y/N had no idea, therefore the safest bet was to look away while she regained her composure ) she looks away and out the window, watching the bird that always seemed to be nearby fly past. 

“Being good at making observations doesn’t make one smart,” she mutters quietly, and Jean just laughs. 

“Well, I think you’re smart, and you can’t change my mind — if you weren’t smart, how would you keep all the old politicians in line as well as you do?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and she scoffs playfully. 

The sound of a knock on the door rings through the room, the sound of the maid just sent off for tea and coffee having come back with it coming through it, though her voice was muffled. Y/N stands back up and walks to the door, replying teasingly as she does, “Those old men aren’t exactly focusing on my smarts as much as they are my physical attributes.”

Jean stews over this information with a pout on his face and his arms crossed as Y/N takes the heavy tea tray and thanks the maid, who closes the door for her since her hands were full, then carefully walks back with it to her desk. She picks out the dish filled with fresh chamomile leaves and flowers and sprinkles equal amounts in one of the pyramid shaped teabags before carefully placing it in the teacup the maid had brought for him. Noticing that Jean’s been quiet, she decides to mention it. “Something on your mind?” she asks lightly, focusing on pouring the steaming water into Jean’s cup, and he sighs. 

“I just… just thought that thinking all those old political codgers staring at you was just me,” he admits, and she just chuckles in response and begins adding the perfect amount of honey and milk to his tea with a small shake of her head. 

“They don’t actually look to me as a figure of authority, Jean,” she says quietly, “And they never will. They just know that if they hand me more paperwork that they don’t want to do, I'll do it — and before you say it, yes I’m going to continue to do it.” She’d interrupted him before he even managed to get his protests for her to tell them all to do their own, and he just silently takes his cup and stews over this information as well while she begins to sip at her coffee.

It wasn’t fair. She was amazing, her work ethic unparalleled, and as a reward they objectified her like she was nothing but a slab of meat and they treated her like horse shit. It made him want to burn everything to the ground in her name, just so the bastards would realize that she deserved better. 

Is this how you felt, Eren? he thinks, sipping the honey chamomile tea in his hand. Is this how it feels to want to burn everything to the ground for the one you love when you know their life will be a hard one?

Jean finds the celebratory banquet following the peace negotiation beyond extravagant. 

Several large tables stood in front of the walls of the dining hall in the capital, an almost endless line of chairs ( but really only a few hundred — seven, maybe? ) and candles filled golden sconces along the walks and a series of thirty candelabras or so per table, and the food was more than anything Jean had ever experienced before. The men and women around him were dressed their absolute best in silks and velvets and fabrics he’d never even seen before — but that was only after everyone had joined him downstairs. The night had initially started off seriously with around three hundred and seventy or so politicians, ambassadors, and rulers of various nations gathering in a large meeting room and taking a seat at one of four tables along each wall so that they could face everyone in the room. Jean had not been one of these people unfortunately, considering he had no political power and no longer was a member of the Paradisian military, and because of this he’d been forced to follow a few members of staff downstairs to wait in the dining hall with the delegations that had come with each person who did go inside. 

As the long hours passed by with no sound coming through the doors of the room upstairs, waiters went around the room, offering wine to the waiting companies, and Jean’s hand shook without him intending it to as he took a glass from one man and accepted a rather generous pour of the red liquid into it. He hesitated to drink it, memories of past allies turned beasts because of poisoned wine flickering in his mind like one of those novel motion pictures that had started becoming popular in the last few months ( Jean himself wasn’t much of a fan of them, but his heart twinged every time he saw a flyer for them and he thought about how much Conny or Sasha would have loved them ). He still remembered staring down at a monstrous Pixis, damned to a hunger that even Jean knew after what had happened in The Battle of Heaven and Hell ( as people who weren’t there had dubbed it; Jean supposed it fit, seeing as Eren’s name had morphed from what it was to whispers of ‘The True Devil of Paradis’ once they’d been saved and the rebuilding had started ), a hunger that couldn’t ever be sated. 

Eventually loud crashes had sounded as the doors above them closed, and footsteps echoed overhead as everyone in the meeting hall began making their way downstairs and to the dining hall. Y/N was one of the last to enter the room, taking her place by the leaders of Marley, Hizuru, and a handful of other primary nations as they announced with bright, fake smiles that the peace plan was a success and that starting from that moment all gathered nations had allied themselves with one another. Cheers had filled the room, and Jean had seen Y/N’s sigh with relief before taking a glass of wine for herself ( also with a hesitation, he’d noticed ) before he made the decision to make his way through the celebrating throngs to stand by her side. 

“So I’m guessing everything went well?” he asks after finally sidling up to her, motioning to imply his intentions to tip some of his wine into her glass to refill it once he saw she was getting low ( despite holding it for only a few minutes as Jean struggled to get to her through the crowd ) then just shrugging and swapping glasses with her. She chuckles and nods her thanks to him, taking a sip. 

Swallowing the wine in her mouth, Y/N licks her lips slightly. “Yes, thank Ymir,” she replies, leaning against him slightly. She sounded absolutely exhausted, but she continued so she could bring him up to speed. “Signatures from every person present in the room were laid on the document I wrote; no one had any issues with the wording or anything.”

Jean’s eyes widen, and he lets out a shocked bark of a laugh, “That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you.”

She smiles at him softly but doesn’t say anything, sipping at her ( his ) wine quietly after tearing her eyes from his and looking out over the raucous crowd. He stands closer to her, careful to not let himself get bumped by the people rushing past, which is how they spend the next two or so hours ( in between visiting dignitaries rushing up to speak to Y/N and congratulate her on a wonderfully written treaty ). 

By Ymir, I hope you’re happy, he thinks, sipping at a glass of champagne and watching Y/N flit sociably around the room. He could tell by the way that she smiled at each person that came up to her and vice versa that she was uncomfortable, and that the look in her eyes wasn’t excitement like everyone else clearly thought but anxiety. Y/N hated large crowds of people, but somehow she always managed to work her way through them better than any extrovert he’d ever met; it had always been something Jean admired about her, if he was honest. 

Another hour passes of Jean in a corner and Y/N speaking with various men and women before it’s announced that they’ll be moving again. Jean looks for Y/N in the crowd and notices once he spots her that, despite being dressed just as prettily as the other women ( more so, in Jean’s opinion, but this was a celebration of a peace treaty being signed so he couldn’t very well insult the citizens of visiting nations ), she’s obediently following the people who’d signed the treaty without hesitation. She doesn’t look back for him, not even once, and it makes something ugly-feeling twist in his belly as he sullenly follows her as well as the rest of the crowd. 

He’s led into a massive ballroom, and above them all hung an enormous chandelier made of crystal and gold that lit up the room; Jean remembered Y/N complaining that it would take months to be handmade because she was given a specific deadline before the time that the chandelier would be done, but the artists who had made it had forgone all other projects in order to focus on it when Y/N had offered them extra payment if they could please get it there even a half hour before the following dining began. They’d gotten it finished a week early, and Y/N had gone out of her way to praise their work and time efficiency, and they’d smiled as Y/N gave them payment even more than what they’d been promised ( they’d argued at first, but Y/N insisted that they keep it and after a lot of pleading from both sides they had ).

As all of this runs through his mind, he’s startled by a hand being placed on his arm. It’s touch is instantly familiar and as soon as he locks eyes with Y/N he relaxes, calmed by her presence alone. 

“Dance with me?” she offers quietly, holding her other hand out to him. He takes it up immediately and leads them both to the dance floor amongst the other pairs that had settled together. Resting one hand on her waist and holding one of her hands in his other, they gently sway and swirl around the room to the crooning music that quickly becomes an afterthought. 

“You didn’t wait for me,” Jean mutters, still a bit hurt that she’d not even bothered to make sure he’d been able to keep up. Y/N just smiles almost coyly and shrugs. 

“I knew that you’d follow me,” she replies with ease, allowing Jean to spin her to the beat of the song the musicians were playing. 

Jean’s eyebrows furrow at her words. “You knew I would?”

Y/N nods, a pleased look on her face as they move around the dance floor as one. “Mhmm; you never left me alone longer than an hour unless we were sleeping when we were cadets you know, and nothing changed once we were full fledged soldiers.” Jean’s cheeks heat up in a blush, slight embarrassment filling him once it hits him that she’d noticed all these years. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking down at their feet and only making his cheeks burn hotter when he accidentally looks down the front of her dress instead of at his shoes like he’d honestly intended. 

“Don’t apologize, I thought it was cute!” Y/N says soothingly, and he looks up at her just as their dance finishes. They bow to one another, and Y/N sends him a gentle smile. “I have to go — more people to speak with,” she explains, backing away. She pauses before she disappears into the crowd, though, and looks back at him with a gentle look on her face. “Wait for me?” she asks through a genuine smile, and he nods. 

“Always,” he whispers as she hurries away, taking her place beside the leader of Marley and joining their conversation as easily as a duck swam in water. 

After a few more hours ( and well into the night ) she finally makes her way back to him again and, leaning so close it made his heart race, whispers in his ear, “Let’s get out of here — there’re too many people in here for either of us to really be comfortable.”

Placing his and her empty glasses on a nearby table, he allows her to take his hand in hers and lead him out of the room, rushing down the stairs and out the doors behind her, helping her over puddles in the streets so she didn’t ruin her dress, wandering around outside and finding citizens of Marley, Eldian and otherwise, celebrating loudly. 

It appeared the news of the peace treaty had reached them as well. 

They made their way through the celebrating throngs and finally they stopped in front of an old coffee shop that ran all day and all night. Choksing it to take shelter in for the time being, they  go in quickly and order two coffees with a breathless smile before rushing off to sit at the windows. Fireworks crackle, pop, and light up the sky through the window and they both watch in rapt attention — Y/N the fireworks through the window, and Jean the colors of the bursting fireworks in her eyes. A warmth fills his heart as it usually did when he gazed at her, and the only thing that shook him from his stare was a waitress placing their coffees down. 

After a while the celebration continues on and Y/N and Jean just decide to bite the bullet, paying for their coffee and rushing out the door and home, each of them talking avidly about how much they liked the coffeeshop. It was fashioned on the inside after the ones in Trost, after all, and run by an older Paradisian woman that Y/N mentioned was married to Pixis before he’d died; her name was Dolores, and she laughed as she remembered how gleefully Pixis had laughed about it with her when Y/N had made the joke that he’d ‘connected the Dots’. They both start laughing, and still are by the time they’ve reached the house they’d bought after leaving the apartments. They dance around gleefully for a bit, drunk on life itself, before they both finally call it a night. 

“Goodnight!” Y/N calls softly, kissing his cheek gently before disappearing into her room while humming, and Jean sighs and staggers into his room, drunk on the feelings that had bubbled up all night and the way she’d kissed his cheek. He closes his own door before wobbling over to his bed and collapsing on it with a light laugh. 

“Goodnight…” he whispers, closing his eyes and falling into a much deserved sleep. 

That night, despite the fun he’d had, Jean’s head is filled with the worst kinds of nightmares. 

It wasn’t as if it was anything new, of course; nightmares are a nightly occurrence for Jean, and he’d learned to live with them over the past few years. 

 He dreams of Sasha often. 

His mind frequently reminds him as he sleeps of the face she’d made after she was shot, and the way she’d looked at him once she realized what had happened. How a mixture of shock and fear and also… of apology had flashed through her eyes all at once, and all within a few seconds. He’s plagued with the sounds she’d made as blood bubbled up in her throat, of the way she’d attempted to gurgle out some string of words that none of them had ever managed to translate. 

He still wonders what she was trying to say. Who was she speaking to? What was she thinking? He knew she was scared, he’d seen the raw terror in her eyes, saw when she realized that she was going to die. 

Other times he dreams of the brief time he was a titan, of being a mindless beast with no self control— just hunger. Those dreams give him a more out of body experience, and he watches himself attack everyone he loved that was still with them. He has more fictionalized nightmares of being unable to stop himself from devouring Y/N, or the Captain, or Mikasa, or Conny ( despite the fact that Conny was turned with him ). The thoughts that come afterwards once he wakes up always include the phrase ‘what if?’. What if he’d actually attacked Mikasa? What if he’d eaten the Captain, bitten and chewed and swallowed him up? What if he’d trampled Y/N as she begged for Eren to let everything go?

He also dreams of the Rumbling. Of the sounds of thousands of giant feet stomping across the ground. Of the screams of enemy soldiers and the sounds made by the colossal titans’ feet as they stepped on and crushed them, ending the screaming. Jean dreams of the devastation that the Rumbling had caused, of all the lives that had been stolen — innocent men, women, and children, of all ages. Infants. Sometimes Jean would hear a baby’s cry echoing to him from somewhere out in the burning devastation, a cry that — no matter how fast he ran to it, trying to find the source — would always be snuffed out. 

He hated that one. He always ended up waking up sobbing inconsolably, and primarily because he knew it had happened. Children had died — little kids. small, pure, humanity’s future. Their lives had been snuffed out like a freshly lit candle, and it killed him inside. 

Then there are the nights he dreams of Eren. 

Those are some of the most difficult. he’d grown up with him, had known he had anger issues, but he’d never actually expected the other man to take things as far as he did, had never expected him to murder so many people, and a part of him — ugly and poisonous — wonders if maybe he’d not been such an obnoxious ass to him, would things have turned out different? If he was just a better friend — or a friend to him at all, really — would any of the results of that changed his mind about the genocide? Would he have listened when they begged him to stop? 

Whether Jean ever wanted to admit it out loud or not, he knew he’d loved Eren. The other man was a part of his life for so long, regardless of however much the two of them bickered back and forth. He was his family. He loved him dearly, loved him as much as he did Conny, as he did Sasha, as he did Y/N ( although in vastly different ways, and if he had the tiniest crush on him back in their cadet days that was his fucking business and he’d take it to his grave ) and Mikasa and Armin, the Captain and both Commanders Hange and Erwin, Historia and ( begrudgingly ) Reiner and Annie, and Marco—

God. Marco. 

After all these years, he couldn’t even remember what Marco looked like anymore. He had freckles, didn’t he? Jean wasn’t sure. All he could remember of him now was the mixture of scattered, burned bones and ash. He couldn’t remember any of his features anymore, or how tall he was, or what his voice sounded like, and it killed him. Yes, he’d forgiven Reiner for what had happened, but that didn’t change how much the memory of him hurt, or how the knowledge of how he’d been murdered felt like a knife to the gut whenever he thought about it. 

Back to the initial point, though. Eren. Jean had mourned alongside Y/N when Eren died, albeit silently, unlike the rest of his comrades. They’d pushed Eren’s existence to the backs of their minds, the series of events that they’d just gone through just being way too much for them to handle… so they didn’t think about him. Didn’t speak for him. They just declared him dead to Paradis and the rest of the world, and that was the end of it to everyone else, but Jean remembered how Y/N had cried when she’d finished listening to the announcement. She’d been an absolute wreck, speaking to everyone and no one all at once asking why they’d had to say that, apologizing to her dead boyfriend for not being able to stop them, and no amount of comfort had been able to console her, not even from Armin or Mikasa or the Captain. 

That was the night she’d confessed that she’d known, and they’d all withdrawn from her at once. The night she’d been reminded yet again of her dead lover, she’d lost everyone she loved most in one fell swoop. It was horrible… but time passed, everyone but Jean left, and over the three years that had passed since the two of them grew closer because of it. Jean learned things about her that he’d not known before, things that she’d only reserved for Eren’s ears, and he felt proud. 

Of course, there were a few things she refused to speak about, and her dead boyfriend was one of them. Y/N told him that he wasn’t the issue when it came to Eren, she swore it, and Jean understood and didn’t blame her. He knew that even thinking his name hurt her, much less openly talking about him. After all, the scream Y/N had let out as the Founder had fallen rang through his ears every time he closed his eyes and was transported back to their final battle. He remembered the way she’d looked, soaked in blood ( hers and that of others ) and half dead, wailing like a dying dog. 

Jean didn’t think she’d actually said his name out loud since he died, even after all these years — four whole years, she’d not said his name, not even once, after devoting nearly her whole entire life to loving him more than her own life. 

Memories and thoughts of Eren aside, by far the worst nights are when his brain won’t let him even have a second’s rest and he dreams of all of them. Sasha. The Rumbling. Eren. Y/N. 

All of these nights end with him screaming in his sleep and Y/N coming into his room and carefully waking him. She never asks him what he had dreamt about that made him act that way, and he never tells her. He doesn’t have to. He knows she has the same dreams. No, she just holds him, and she rocks him. She hums soft lullabies she’d been sung as a child in Shiganshina. She tells him of the trouble she and Mikasa and Armin and Eren had gotten into as children, as cadets, and everything after.

Most nights it was easy for her to wake him, but others weren’t, and he’d struck her before. Once he was fully awake and she’d calmed him down fully she excused herself and he went back to a fitful sleep, none the wiser because she’d acted like usual. She’d cleaned herself up and tended to the area so it only bruised minimally, but Jean still felt guilty for it the next morning regardless and cried and cried until she miraculously managed to calm him down again. 

Tonight was one of the harder nights, and Jean had nearly punched her while panicking ( she didn’t tell him this, just ushered him out of his stuffy room ). Afterwards, once she’d managed to get him breathing fine again, she’d poured them both a hefty glass of wine and they’d huddled together in the kitchen quietly. Jean had pulled out a chair and sat himself down by the table and she had leaned against the kitchen counter just over the sink in front of a window. Both had a death grip on their overfilled wine glasses, and after a long silence filled only with the sounds of their breathing, Jean speaks. 

“Tell me a secret,” he says simply, taking another drink of his wine. Y/N quirks an eyebrow up at him. 

“A secret?”

“Yeah. Something you’ve never told anyone else,” he replies, swallowing a big gulp of wine and shivering slightly. “Anything to take my mind off… that.” He spoke, of course, of the memory of Eren’s decapitated head in Mikasa’s arms and the screams Y/N had let out at the sight of it, and of the way she’d pulled it from Mikasa’s hands and cradled it close then fallen to her knees in absolute hysterics as the other woman stood over her crying. Armin had come running and had collapsed next to her, throwing his arms around her and holding her tight while sobbing himself, and Mikasa’s legs had given out beneath her and she’d succumbed to her own pain, weakly crawling over to her remaining two friends and allowing Armin to hold her as close as he was Y/N. Y/N wouldn’t let her touch her, and Jean remembered how, when this actually went down, it ushered a sudden surge of fresh tears and hiccuped sobs because Y/N was pushing her away. This time, though, Y/N had woken him before it had gotten there, so he’d not had to watch Mikasa crumble all over again. 

He refused to tell her what that night’s dream was about. 

Y/N looks out the window, seemingly thinking until a sad smile twists her lips and she takes another sip of her own wine, tears slowly welling up in her eyes and glittering like pain-filled diamonds. “Eren and I got married before he decided to destroy Marley,” she admits, not seeing how big Jean’s eyes got at her confession. How ironic was it that he was learning something about her relationship with Eren when he’d just had a nightmare involving the both of them?

“Married?! When?!” he sputters, drops of wine sliding down his chin until he uncaringly wipes them away with his shirtsleeve; he knew that it would stain, but that was the last thing on his mind at the moment. 

“Before he decided to destroy Marley,” she says, repeating herself, and Jean mentally kicks himself for such a stupid question. His attention is brought back when she continues speaking. “It was a really small thing — no one we really knew was there. An Eldian licensed to marry other Eldians was in the refugee camps, and Eren and I met with him that night we all drank together and had fun… we got married that night while the rest of you were drunk and came back before Hange and the Captain came back and found us all asleep. The man who married us was killed in the Rumbling, along with our two witnesses, so I can’t really do anything about it anyways; I suppose his name isn’t mine to claim now.”

In the back of his mind Jean notes that Y/N’s just said Eren’s name not once but twice for the first time in four years, and that she’s still avoiding saying Captain Levi’s. He’d never really noticed it before, but just as she’d never said Eren’s name she’d not said Captain Levi’s in a long time either. Levi avoiding her after she admitted to knowing Eren’s plans must have hurt her more than she’d admitted. Maybe she’d tell him about that another time.

He never gets to ask more questions, instead being prompted by Y/N to give her a secret in return.“I — I— I-“ he stutters, then shakes his head, “I only have one, and I don’t think that it’s appropriate.”

“Tell me,” she murmurs, still not looking at him. 

“Y/N—“

“C'mon, Jean, I promise it’s okay,” she murmurs, her eyes locked on something outside the window — was it a bird? 

Something in her tone of voice made him relax, and he sighed heavily before tossing back the rest of his wine and groaning. “Hmm. Okay — um…” he rubs the back of his neck, beyond nervous. After her confession about marrying Eren, was this really okay? 

He jumps when the feeling of something covering his hand reaches him, and he looks down to see that it’s Y/N’s. He looks up at her with wide eyes, but she’s still not looking at him — she’s just staring out the window with tiny tears in her eyes from talking about her dead boyfriend ( husband, Jean corrects himself, still somewhat reeling from this; was he really the only person that knew? ) and holding his hand. He takes another deep breath, then just decides to spit it out. 

“I’ve been in love with you since I met you in the 104th,” he says quickly, squeezing his eyes shut. Hetenses up when she pulls her hand back from where she was holding his and he tries not to cry, just knowing in his gut that he’s an idiot and he’s ruined everything. His mind begins to race as he desperately tries to think up ways to save face, to fix what he’d just colossally fucked up, but he can’t think of anything.

While Jean’s going through this mental turmoil, Y/N has never looked away from the window. She’s watching the bird fly back and forth, tipping its body this way and that before finally going towards the window. It flies by slowly, tilts its body up and down once ( almost in a waving motion ), then turns and flies off and away from her. Y/N lets out a shaky breath, her heart racing, and she places her wine glass on the counter in favor of using the hand to cover her heart. The tears start falling now, and she can’t stop them; she couldn’t even if she wanted to. 

“Goodbye… Eren,” she breathes through her tears, and the second his name leaves her lips the figure of the bird disappears into the sun. 

They stand together in silence for a while after that, Jean numb to the world around himself as he panics, but her laying her hand on his face brings him out of his mental ramblings, and his eyes shoot open and lock on her. She’s standing in front of him, a soft look on her face that Jean had only ever seen her wear around Eren himself. 

“I know,” she whispers, looking not quite into his eyes with the sad smile she’d worn speaking about her dead husband still on her face — only this time it’s different. 

“You… know?” he whispers, his eyes wide as he swallows hard. 

Y/N nods. “Mhmm, always have,” she admits quietly, rubbing along his cheekbone with her thumb. They stand together in silence for a long moment, the only change being Jean leaning into her touch and one of his hands coming up to gently cup the one Y/N had on his face. He closes his eyes and just basks in the moment, not knowing if he’ll ever get her touch this way again, and is promptly startled when she says his name after a long while of  the two of them standing there. “Jean…” she breathes lightly, and his eyes open to see hers shining with something he didn’t recognize. 

“Yeah?” he asks in a whisper just as quiet as how she’d breathed his name. 

“Kiss me,” Y/N replies, and his eyes widen. She, the woman he’d been in love with for over a decade, wanted him to kiss her? And after everything they’d just talked about?

“Are — Are you sure?!” he asks in a strangled voice, and she smiles softly and nods, placing both hands against his cheeks so she can cup his face. She tilts her head to the side ever so slightly and a fond looks overtakes the sadness in her eyes as she smiles up at him. 

“I’m completely sure,” she murmurs, running one thumb along one of his cheekbones like she’d done before, and with that final piece of permission. Jean slowly, gently, leans down and captures her lips with his own. 

Her lips are soft and she tastes sweet, a sweetness that came partially from the wine they’d both been drinking but that also just came from her, a taste singular to herself, and he relished it. All his life since he’d joined the military back on their home island he’d been desperate for even a scrap of the romantic attention she showed Eren, for some sliver of love that was different from the love she showed their other friends, and now he had her completely. She was, for all intents and purposes in this moment, his and his alone. 

He pulls back from her lips with a gasp, his chest heaving from the lack of oxygen, and she takes the initiative and begins peppering kisses across his revealed chest and neck. “Take us to bed,” she whispers pleadingly, and he only has to look down into her eyes for a second to make the decision they both desired. 

They stumble into his room in a mess of wandering hands and desperate kisses, Jean’s shirt long forgotten on the kitchen floor and Y/N’s shorts kicked off somewhere in the hallway. After struggling for a few minutes with the buttons of her shirt, Jean just lets out an annoyed growl and rips it down the middle, buttons popping off of the cloth and scattering everywhere as Y/N unties the string to his pajama bottoms and giggles when the buttons go flying. Once they’re both in nothing but a pair of panties and boxers they back up until the side of the bed catches at Y/N’s thighs and she falls back, taking Jean with her. He’s got her pinned to the bed, holding himself up with his elbows and with her body between them. Her legs are spread and his own rest between them, and he just stares at her for a moment before her face lights up with a radiant smile. 

“Hi,” he whispers, and she giggles breathlessly. 

“Hi!” she replies, a genuine smile on her face, and Jean grins and begins kissing her again. They gaze at one another for a minute before Jean asks her again, sounding concerned, if she was sure that she wanted to do this, and she just smiles softly and nods. “I am,” she whispers softly. “Please, Jean… I promise, I want this. I want you.”

To hide the sudden rush of euphoric tears that fill his eyes at the words he’d waited to hear her say for what felt like his entire life he drops to his knees so his head is between her thighs. She sits up on her elbows on the bed and looks down at him in curiosity as he slowly traces the hem of her panties with one long finger before slowly letting her head fall back as he covered her clothed warmth with his own mouth and licked gently at her through the fabric of her panties. His tongue caresses the fabric, his saliva seeping into the cloth and mixing with what wetness she’d left on them already as her body instinctively prepared itself for him. Her thighs tremble on either side of his head as he carefully sucks at her clit through the fabric, and she lets out a cry that has him stopping instantly and looking up at her in alarm amd in fear that he’d somehow hurt her. 

“O-Off,” she whispers shakily, pushing at the top hem of her panties. “Want ‘em off — please!”

Jean obliges easily, wanting this moment to be as perfect for her as possible, before pressing back against her slick cunt. His tongue gently parts her lower lips and draws a line up the length of her heat until he reaches her clit, and he begins drawing various shapes and writing out several different words to see what she liked best ( Jean found that she most enjoyed stars, circles, and, oddly enough, the word ‘cantaloupe’ ). Like a seasoned musician he plays her like a finely polished instrument, and her body sings underneath his touch. “Oh—by Ymir, please!” Y/N wails, her hands grabbing desperately at his hair. She tugs at it gently, pulling his face deeper into her core as his tongue toys with her dripping entrance and rolling her hips up into his face to get some sort of friction against her needy clit. She lets out a short, sudden scream and clamps her legs around his head as she cums hard in his mouth, Jean making a clear effort to take in whatever she gave him. He gives her a moment to rest, watching her breasts heave and almost hearing the way her heart races, before delving back into her, his tongue swirling expertly around her clit and dipping teasingly into her hole. Before long, though, her want for his cock supersedes the feeling of his mouth on her pussy and she wants him covering her again. 

“Fuck — up here, Jean, come back to me!” she pleads softly, and he’s back on top of her in a second. His face glistens with her juices, and she tangles her fingers in his hair before pulling his face towards hers so they can kiss again. It’s slow and sweet and gentle, and Y/N melts happily into the mattress as his lips meld against hers. 

When they break away for a moment, both of them breathless, Hean speaks to her. “What do you mean?” he asks quietly, rubbing his nose against hers affectionately, “I never left you.” She whimpers softly in a wordless request, and Jean obliges by carefully easing her panties off as her arms drift down from his hair to rest around his back then creep under the waistline of his boxers, her nails slightly scratching at the skin of his ass as she pushes them down. His hard cock slaps softly against her belly, soft and warm and the weight of it more than pleasing; the soft pink head was leaking an almost endless stream of precum that quickly made its way to pooling just above her navel. 

“I-In — fuck, please, put it in!” Y/N begs, and he kisses her again in response before taking himself into his own hand then pressing the tip of his cock against her entrance and pushing in, gritting his teeth as her slick heat envelopes his length. Both of their eyes roll back as they slot together almost perfectly, Y/N’s nails digging into his back slightly and Jean’s hands fisting in the sheets as they rest together there, basking in the feeling. After a moment, though, one of them breaks the pleasant silence that was once punctuated only by their shaky breaking. 

“Move. Please,” Y/N asks quietly, and Jean withdraws for a second, hissing as the cool air hits his wet dick, before pressing back inside slowly. He watches Y/N’s eyes widen and her pupils grow even larger than they were before as she’s filled, and a shaky smile makes its way onto her face. He smiles back at her, his smile morphing into a blissful half grin as their shared pleasure builds and he creeps closer and closer to orgasm himself — then he notices it. 

She’s crying. Crying and smiling and even laughing a little. 

“What is it? Are you okay?” Jean asks, alarmed yet again. She shakes her head and lifts her hand so she can press it against his cheek like she’d done in the kitchen. His movements slow to a stop and he starts to get off of her when he sees her shake her head, his eyes widening in a panic, but she throws her other arm around him and holds him as close to her as she possibly can.

“N-No! Don’t stop!” she cries, then sniffs a little and lets out a single, short laugh. “It’s just… This. It’s so good, it feels so perfect.”

“So… So you’re okay?” Jean asks, unconvinced, and she nods. 

“I’m more than okay,” she says quietly, and she smiles up at him. “I love you, Jean.” It takes a second, but then the words hit him, and his world stops all at once in the best way. 

She loves him. She loves him. Him, Jean Kirstein. Love. This… he’d been waiting for it since he was thirteen, and now she’d just told him the words he’d wanted to hear for so long. This was beyond better than her telling him that she wanted him, this would be a moment he never forgot — because how could he? The woman he’d been in love with for over a decade had confessed that she loves him — and just as he’d known when he was fifteen and she’d saved him from a titan during a recon mission and again when he was nineteen and leaping from a boat to rejoin her on the docks, Jean knew that nothing could ever change the way this woman made him feel. 

The two of them start up again, Jean’s hips rolling against hers and his balls slapping against her ass in a perfect rhythm that had them both letting out cries of pleasure. Endlessly the same thoughts ran through Jean’s head as he pleasured the love of his life, never changing: He loved her, and she loved him. They loved each other. 

And later that night, once everything was done and while she sleeps, he watches the way her chest rises and falls while she sleeps comfortably next to him, and he absentmindedly rubs his thumb over her upper arm and whispers, I hope you’re happy. 

A soft hum and Y/N pressing closer to his warmth is the only response he gets, and once the darkness that came with sleep overtakes him he doesn’t have a single nightmare. 

After that night, Jean moves all of his things into Y/N’s room; he’d forced her into taking the master bedroom when they’d gotten the house, and since they were together now she’d insisted he sleep with her from then on. He was more than willing to move his things, and now he got to spend every night in a peaceful rest and every morning he got to wake up to the sight of her either still sleeping or dressing quietly so she could go downstairs to make breakfast. His favorite ways to start the day were when he woke up first and got to see her sleeping for a little bit or when he woke up to the feeling of her lips peppering soft kisses across his face. The years pass this way, and he loves every minute of it

During all of this time together, the same thought that he’d had as they drifted off races through his mind as they spend time together more often than even before. They frequent the coffeeshop they’d stumbled upon after the signing, and discover that it’s a great place to pass the time and enjoy each other’s company while dozens of people mill around happily outside. They spend hours of their lives there, just talking and watching and embracing the feeling of having one another, and it’s absolutely perfect. 

They board trains to visit Annie and Reiner where they live alone together out in the middle of nowhere in a farmhouse ( the two were desperate for quiet after everything ended, and with Annie’s father having died around ten months ago she and Reiner had packed up and moved out ). Days are spent with the two blondes, reminiscing over the good times they’d had in the past or memories they’d made since then. Jean didn’t forget about what they had done to Marco, but after all this time of knowing, he’d made some headway into forgiving, so after Y/N visited them about a dozen or so times on her own he’d joined her, and he’d been more grateful to see familiar faces than he’d expected. Now they went by train to see them around once a month and had the greatest time. 

He’s annoyed when they’re invited to a hero’s banquet hosted by Marley and funded by Hizuru because it’s to be held on a night he’d promised to take her out on a date, but she just laughs and tells him that it could still count, and that maybe even the others would be there considering they were a part of the group of ‘heroes’ that had saved the world from the Devil of Paradis. They meet Reiner and Annie at the doors and the four of them stay close to one another, Y/N dancing the night away with all three of them and drinking her fill of the wine supplied by their hosts. Watching her dance so happily while completely unaware or uncaring of the world around her other than Annie laughing as they spin together makes him smile sadly, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that their Paradisian friends aren’t there, and he carefully carts her home once she’s tipsy enough to persuade into bed to sleep. 

During all of these little excursions, he hopes desperately in his mind that she’s happy, and thinks likewise when she’s scrawling out letter after letter to Armin and the others telling them about her week, what she’d seen or heard on the streets, new recipes she’d tried, how her work was going, and then she’d move on into asking about their own lives, wanting to know what they were getting up to or if they’d gotten married in the years that had passed. 

She never got any letters in return, but she didn’t stop writing — at least, until the mail carrier told her that all of her letters were being burned by the recipients, sometimes right on the spot as they received them.  He could tell how much it crushed her, but discovering that even their former Captain himself was letting her unopened letters hover over an active candle flame until they were nothing but ash falling from his fingers had her in tears. Jean knew why, of course; she’d told him all about her late night rendezvous with the Captain to drink tea and speak of their days, pasts, or whatever else piqued their interest of conversation that day, how they’d started around seven or eight months before the attack on Trost District after she’d quietly gone to comfort him after a member of his original team had died regardless of his snarls for her to leave and how she’d known that he cared for her in return when her own squad leader, Zacharias, had been killed and he’d purposefully sought her out and looked for her until he found her quietly crying on the roof where she’d hidden away from even Eren, who’d been searching the compound for her himself. He’d just… sat there, she’d told him, in a silence that wasn’t so awkward as it was equally mournful before he hesitantly pressed their shoulders together and let her lay her head on his right one to cry. 

“We were close,” she told him through small tears in bed that night, “I swear that we were… but some things can’t be forgiven, I suppose.” Jean didn’t have the relationship she did with the Captain and before she’d told him he’d been completely oblivious to it, but regardless his heart hurt at the blatant heartache in her voice. He’d held her after she said that, and she’d cried into the crook of his neck until she fell asleep. 

She didn’t send any more letters after that, and she didn’t write for what felt like forever after Jean would come home every day to her writing. She would sit quietly at her desk and look down at a piece of paper before eventually getting up and abandoning it, unable to find anything that brought her enough joy to write about it. 

One day he comes home, expecting to find her sitting silently at her writing desk, unmoving, only to find a trail of mud from the front door to the guest bathroom, and he goes inside to see he washing dirt from this absolutely massive ( and clearly old ) street dog who’s just panting happily as she cooes to him that he’s handsome while sitting in the tub with him and washing him off, and when he laughs and she sees he’s there she just grins at him and tells him that she’s ‘named him Gerolf, so they definitely have to keep him now’, and with life in her eyes and smile finally on her face again Jean couldn’t bear to tell her no, so he didn’t. 

The days from then on out pass with ease as he watches her dance and sing happily around the living room with the dog, the huge thing’s paws on her shoulders as she laughs and sways with him before kissing his nose. He would have joined her, but the sight of her enjoying life so fully was something he couldn’t bear to tear his eyes from, much less interrupt. 

A few months or so after they took in Gerolf, Y/N began to write their former comrades again, but now she chose instead to put the letters away in the closet in the room with her writing desk in it, clearing it all out just for the purpose of storing the letters there. She never really answered Jean when he asked why she didn’t send them, instead skirting around the questions and changing the subject. Jean never pushed, because not only was it not his place since she didn’t want to tell him but because he also knew she’d tell him in her own time should she ever desire to do so. 

Their lives for the next three years or so ran smoothly aside from a small handful of minor bumps ( dips in work, some new furniture being lost during shipping, Jean breaking Y/N’s favorite cup, the small cake they’d ordered falling when they got married in private ), and they were happy. They’d made their home in Marley and in each other and they fell asleep in one another’s arm’s with Gerolf, as old as the hulking monstrosity was, in the bed at their feet. 

Throughout the years, Y/N opened up more about her relationships with her first husband and the Captain, and Jean made sure to listen attentively as she did so. He listened closely when she described nights she’d shared with Eren, curled together in front of fireplaces and under covers, of kisses stolen in passing and quick ruts in abandoned corridors, and of confessions of love given daily that always felt like the first. She spoke of her time shared staring up at the night sky with the Captain on the roof of the Scout Corps. headquarters, of the times he let himself rear his head back and genuinely laugh with her on horseback as they raced through the open plains within the walls, of the endless stories shared between them over tea drank at midnight and the warmth between them when they leaned together on cold nights spent outside while on the run from the Military Police.

It didn’t take much for Jean to finally realize just how much the Captain shutting her out hurt her even before she’d told him this, and now after having peered at least a little into the deep extent of their private relationship his heart stung for her. She’d just lost Eren, and then she’d lost her closest friend as well as the rest of her family only a few weeks later. 

“Armin and Mikasa were more Eren’s friends than mine,” she’d admitted while cooking once. It had been sudden and had surprised him into turning around from his place chopping vegetables at another counter, but she’d just sighed and continued. “I love them dearly, really I do, but our relationship just wasn’t the same. It felt wrong to complain of my troubles to them when they had their own, so I just tried making money every way I could to support the four of us while we were more or less on the streets after the fall of Wall Maria. It wasn’t until I was drafted a year before the rest of you that I met the Captain, and you’ve heard the majority of how our relationship started.” Of course he had, she’d told him that what felt like forever ago; how she’d found Captain Levi after a member of his squad had died around seven months before Trost had fallen and she’d comforted him even though he’d yelled and screamed until his throat was raw, and then held him after he fell to his knees crying because the soldier had been a long-time comrade and he couldn’t take any more death and hold it in. She’d told him how Captain Levi had tried to weakly push her away before just melting into her hold and sobbing into her shoulder because it was just all too much, and she’d told him how they’d spent the night together on their knees on the floor mourning — and then, come morning, how she’d said nothing about what had happened even though the Captain had wept himself into exhaustion in her arms and had slept there for hours. Her knees had ached for a week, she’d remembered, but it had been worth it. All of this was said with a fond but wistful smile on her face, a look she usually had when thinking about Captain Levi. She laughed a little when speaking about the looks he’d sent her way when he’d thought she’d tell others about his sudden show of emotion, then her eyes had softened when she said that that, once he realized she wouldn’t utter a word of it, was when she’d earned his trust. 

Her eyes always grew sad when speaking of the Captain’s trust in her, and Jean always felt bad for her when he noticed she was missing the man. She’d been his right hand for what felt to Jean like their entire time in the Scouts, always seeming to know something about him that no one else did that got her an in on his life — and he supposed that she did. 

It also made sense now, why Armin and Mikasa were unable to console her after Eren’s death, Jean realized in silence, but he still didn’t understand why the Captain’s soft words and even gentler touches hadn’t worked either. She later voiced that the guilt from the knowledge of what she’d done to contribute to Eren’s assault kept her from accepting his comfort, because she felt she didn’t deserve it. She still hadn’t said his name. It had been around seven years at that point. 

Jean didn’t push it. 

After that, she didn’t speak of the Captain again for a long, long time and avoided Jean’s questions about him, but she was more than willing to answer those he had about Eren. It made Jean feel accomplished, knowing he was helping her heal from the loss of her first husband, and honestly learning more about Eren made him heal too — but it also made him realize that, despite all of the teasing and time spent with him, the majority of what he thought he knew about his character were nothing more than childish ideations of a crush he believed unrequited; when Y/N had told him over coffee ( she hadn’t drank tea since her fallout with the Captain, she’d mentioned once that the reminder hurt her heart too much and he’d never offered her tea again ) in the living room while sitting in her favorite chair that Eren had actually returned his little ‘crush’ for around two and a half years, starting sometime in the middle of when they’d been knee deep in their military training. Jean had turned bright red and tried to argue that he didn’t have a crush, but she’d just giggled into her drink and gotten comfier in her chair to the sounds of him sputtering out protests. 

The nights spent with warm drinks in front of the fire with Gerolf at their feet and the radio softly crooning behind them were his favorite, if he was honest. He’d never felt more loved or at home than he did with a cup of coffee ( he’d sworn off tea for his wife’s sake ) in one hand and one of Y/N’s clasped in the other, his toes buried under the warmth of Gerolf’s furry stomach and the sound of one of Y/N’s wild stories from her days under Captain Miche’s command reaching his ears. Every night spent this way ended with a smile on his face and warmth in his heart, and he knew that he never could have possibly been happier than he was in these moments and with the life he’d chosen the day he’d leapt from that damned boat. 

Of course, everything changed for them when Y/N got sick. 

They didn’t know what it was, and she’d brushed his worries off at first when he’d mentioned how he didn’t like the persistent cough she’d had for two or so weeks. He tried to relax, to accept that it was just a stubborn cough, but after two months of worrying when he’d come home from getting groceries one day to Gerolf barking in panic and her unconscious in a lump on the floor he’d had enough and taken her to a doctor. That’s when they found out she was sick — and it was also when they found out that Marleyan doctor’s didn’t know what the hell she had. Jean had, despite Y/N’s insistence that she was okay, taken her to every doctor feasible and had called upon doctors he couldn’t take her to, hosting them in their home as they checked Y/N over. 

They all came to the same conclusion in the end though: they had no idea what sickness she had, just that she was terribly ill and that the outlook was grim. After the thirty-ninth doctor came to them, then reached the same realization and shared his findings, Jean had stopped calling doctors to the house. Y/N tried comforting him, tried telling him that she was grateful for how much he’d tried, but nothing she said worked and he grew depressed as things got more and more difficult for her. 

The winter and summer months were always especially rough, when the cold practically seeped into her bones or the heat made her sweat the flesh wrapped around them off. The cold air made it difficult for her to breathe and made her lungs ache, and the heat did the same but even worse. They couldn’t go on long walks with Gerolf together anymore, and their visits to the coffee shop they both loved so much grew fewer and farther apart. She didn’t take the train to visit Annie and Reiner any more, and they’d written their worries to them when the second meeting was missed, but Y/N had eased them with mentions of being tight on money; it wasn’t exactly a lie, as Jean had used up the money she’d put away for travel expenses for her doctor’s appointments and other medical expenses of hers, and she couldn’t travel anyway so what use did they have for a travel fund at the moment? However, where it wasn’t exactly a lie, it wasn’t true either. They weren’t low on money in the slightest, not with all of their funding from their years in the military back on Paradis that they’d saved and the money that the Marleyan government had given them along with properties as reparations and then more money they’d earned through their jobs here, but neither Y/N nor Jean told them that and allowed them to take comfort in the belief that money was the sole reason Y/N didn’t come to see them anymore. 

Two years pass this way, with Y/N ill and the doctors with no clue as to what was wrong with her. Jean didn’t want to tell anyone about Y/N’s illness, no one but doctors, because he wouldn’t have to, not since she would get better — why worry them when Jean could handle it? He would take care of her on his own just as he had for the past nine years, it was his job. And if the handful of years that followed were spent with her still sick, what of it? Things had to get worse before they got better, Jean of all people knew that. 

Eventually he does admit that Y/N’s not feeling her best to Reiner and Annie, but he doesn’t tell them the full extent of her medical issues — but after the three and a half year mark, however, he was forced to tell them everything. They’d come to visit Jean and Y/N instead of the other way around and when Jean had run out to grab food Y/N had fainted into Reiner’s arms when trying to make coffee for everyone. When he’d caught her and seen her eyes rolled back in her head with only the bottom of her irises showing and Gerolf barking worriedly they’d panicked, and Reiner and Annie’s panic had only gotten worse when she wouldn’t wake up. Jean had returned home right as they were about to rush to the hospital, and he’d stopped them and taken Y/N from Reiner’s arms despite the protests of both blondes, carefully lowering her to the floor and cradling her close to himself, quietly murmuring requests for her to come back to him before quietly admitting that her illness was much worse than the little chest cold he’d written them about. 

They move back to the city after that, intent on helping where they can. Annie cooks for the four of them, and Reiner does some extra shifts at a bar in town. Jean works just as hard, trying so desperately to make extra money for just… more time — even if Y/N didn’t expect much more. 

In the year that had passed where she was her illest she’d written three more letters: the first telling them that things had taken a turn for the worst, the second when they’d hit that bright spot that made them think she was getting better, and finally the third when she’d realized that no, things weren’t getting better, and that it was most definitely her final run, which she’d separated into several split letters for each of their former friends. Those she’d put in the top drawer of  her bedside table, still unable to make the walk to her desk. 

It had taken her an entire week to finish them, and when Jean had asked what was in the last letters and she’d told him that it was full of her goodbyes to everyone they loved on Paradis he’d nodded understandingly then excused himself to shower, where he’d sat beneath the hot spray and just cried for what felt like only a few minutes but what was really hours, because it had finally hit him: no miracle was going to happen for them. After nearly twenty years of living in close quarters together every day,  Y/N was going to die. He was actually going to lose her. This wasn’t like when she took those few week and a half long trips alone ( at her own insistence )  to visit with Reiner and Annie in the country where they’d moved to escape everything before they’d moved back, this time she wouldn’t be coming back to him. He would really be alone. For good. 

When he’d finally gotten out, she’d not said anything to him. She could see how puffy and pink his eyes were after crying for so long, and she’d heard one mournful cry before he was able to cover his mouth properly, but she never mentioned it. 

Jean had appreciated it, even if he’d never said so. 

Life carried on regardless of the way Jean felt about Y/N’s illness. On the Days he didn’t have extra work, Jean did whatever he could around the house to keep his mind off of the impending hell he would be forced to face. He’d eye Gerolf, and the way the mutt kept constant contact with her, or spend hours cooking special meals he knew Y/N would enjoy. Other times he would stand at one of their bookshelves in the living room for hours, perusing his options but never making a decision on what to read. 

“I want you to know that it’s okay for you to move on,” Y/N says one day from her place on the couch while he stood at the bookshelf; she’d been crocheting a blanket despite the shakiness in her hands. “Once I’m gone, you know. It won’t hurt me for you to love again and remarry.” Jean, once pacing while deep in thought over his next move, freezes once the words register in his mind, and his heart burns. Despite being the one in agony daily, according to the endless doctors, still Y/N thought of him first; how was it that she managed to love so selflessly? Jean knew by this point that he was being greedy and selfish, doing all of this when the outcome had already been made clear; Y/N had taken the diagnoses with ease, almost welcoming death in a way Jean hadn’t understood. He’d been angry about it at first, before she’d explained that she’d already lived a life better than she thought she deserved, followed by admittance that she wasn’t surprised that she was dying young and rather had been expecting the universe to cut her life short; “It’s only what I deserve,” she’d said, “for the horrific atrocities I assisted Eren in creating.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re okay with it or not,” he whispers, his chin shaking and tears filling his eyes as he looks down at his shoes. He hears her make a questioning noise from the couch, and a clink as her crochet needles clack against one another, and he continues, knowing she wasn’t offended. “They don’t compare — I couldn’t — it wouldn’t be…” The words won’t come out alongside his shaky breathing; he watches through blurry vision as the wooden floorboards between his black shoes darken with teardrops he couldn’t keep from falling. It takes him a long moment to get his breathing back in check, but he eventually manages it. 

“They wouldn’t be you,” he finally grits out, new tears joining the old on the wood flooring. His fisted hands shake, and his heart twists when he hears her sigh; it isn’t mocking, or ill-intended, but the way she’s resigned herself to her death hurts him. 

“I said the same about Eren,” she whispers after a long, near-silent pause that had been filled only by Gerolf’s snores and the crackling fire. A sound of pain leaves Jean’s throat without him meaning to, and he turns to her with tears streaming down his face. She’s placed her unfinished blanket to the side and is just… looking at him, and it breaks him. Her eyes are soft and kind, and he can see that she’s unafraid — nothing like him. 

“But I — I can’t,” he whispers, the words coming out in a breathy sob in time with fresh tears. He staggers over to her weakly before falling to his knees before her, clutching her skirts tightly in his hands and burying his face in her lap before collapsing into his grief. She wasn't even dead, and yet there he was, crumpled on the floor at her feet and sobbing into her dress like a mere child. He was a soldier, he’d fought in and helped end a war, he’d battled immeasurable monsters and demons, but he still mourned, and before she was gone — and through it all she runs her fingers through his greying hair and whispers softly that everything would be fine. 

One evening, months after he’d dissolved into tears and after a day spent with her unable to leave the bed for how weak she is and how painful it is for her to walk,  when she’s at what feels like her healthiest yet and Jean feels safe sleeping in bed with her rather than in a cot by their bed, she begins speaking to him. 

He’s not actually asleep. He's taking the time to bask in what life she had in her still, to spend as much time with her as he could even if it meant exhausting himself. The feeling of her heart beating against him and the sound of her breathing in his ears keeps him from losing himself in the fear of what was to come. 

He felt himself a coward. 

One of her hands gently combs through his hair, spotting a few greys here and there as she does so; he can’t see it, but they make her smile weakly. He'd survived long enough for grey hairs to settle in, albeit at thirty-one. she swallows hard, sudden tears popping up in her eyes and threatening to fall. “I hope you’re happy,” she whispers softly, holding his hand with the one not petting him as she lays almost uselessly in bed.

She jolts slightly in surprise, the sudden movement making her very bones ache, when he starts crying as soon as the words register in his mind, Jean lifting his head as the salty fluid treks down his cheeks and leaves slick lines in its wake. “I could have never been happier than I have been with you,” Jean whispers back, smiling lovingly down at her through the tears in his eyes that made his vision beyond blurry. She smiles, squeezes his hand, and weakly tugs him on top of her where she lay on the bed to carefully balance himself on his elbows above her. 

“Make love to me,” she whispers to him, small tears in her own eyes as she clutches at one of his shirt sleeves desperately. He’s not seen her cry since before she’d been given the initial diagnosis, so it stuns him for a moment. The unspoken ‘one last time’ echoes through both of their minds, but both refuse to say it and ignore it in favor of slowly getting undressed one Jean regains his wits — because moving too fast would hurt her, despite today being one of her best days in years, and neither of them wanted that. 

Jean rests his forehead against hers, fresh tears welling up in his eyes as he smiles softly. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever been blessed enough to see,” he breathes, and he hears her breath hitch in response. 

“I love you,” is her only reply, and that’s when he presses inside. Jean’s hips slowly rolled into hers, ever so careful to not jostle her and keep it feeling good for them both. It had been so long since they were together like this; her body was just too weak to handle it, but now they were trying — Jean could hardly believe it. 

 “O-Oh my God,” Y/N whimpers, swallowing the spit that had accumulated in her mouth as pulses of pleasure filled her body, “Oh — oh, oh, J-Jean-!”

“Shhh, I’ve got you,” Jean whispers, reaching a hand up to gently cup her chin before leaning down to kiss her softly. Her arms come up and wrap around his neck as he slowly fucks into her, her tiny gasps and his low grunts filling the room. Gone were the days of the headboard banging against the wall so hard that paintings and photographs fell off of it, but present still was the love shared between them. 

Before long both reach orgasm, moaning out declarations of love and utterances of one another’s names as they do. The rest of the night is spent silently shared between the two of them, naked and intertwined in a warm, perfect mess. 

Happily. 

She was gone by dawn the next morning.

Jean hadn’t woken when she’d passed, he’d only woken to her body in his arms. He’d not known at first, not until he’d kissed her forehead and discovered how cool her skin was; she’d been so beautiful at the time, soft and sweet and peaceful looking — but then he’d realized, and he’d screamed. The neighbors had woken to the sound of his raw, agonized yelling, and they’d broken the door down getting in before realizing what had happened once they saw how he clutched her to his chest, her arm limp against the bed as he did. 

There had been no consoling him, this they knew. They just alerted medics and the police and quietly went to mourn as well, already missing the woman that often offered parts of the meals she made to them, even going so far as to cook them both entire portions while the woman had been pregnant and her husband overworked leaving both exhausted. 

Many good memories were had of the Kirsteins; the two would miss Mr. Kirstein’s wife. 

It had taken nearly an hour for the medics to convince Jean to let them take Y/N’s body, and both before and after he was an absolute wreck. She’d been fine only a few hours ago, she’d been so warm and happy and alive — and suddenly he wakes up and she’s gone? Just like that? It’s not fair. 

For the first time in seventeen years — ten at her side as a friend, and seven as a husband — he’s without her. He’s lost. 

In an almost cruel act of irony, the owner of the coffee shop they went to every morning put it up for sale the day after her funeral. Apparently the only funds they’d been getting recently were from the Kirsteins themselves as well as about four other regulars, so slowly but surely the funding had just… run out. Before long the place was dark and quiet, and looking at it hurt him. All it helped him remember was Y/N, when all he wanted to do was forget. 

He locks himself up in their home for months, his only company being an also-mournful Gerolf, who whined whenever he was near something she favored. Most nights are spent sleeping in his chair in the living room as well; how could he possibly sleep in the place where she had died? And he couldn’t just sleep on the couch either, her blanket was laying there — she’d not finished crocheting it, so he couldn’t touch it. Instead, he just slept in his chair with his hand in Gerolf’s fur, lazily scratching at it where he knew it would please the also depressed dog. 

Just before the sixth month passes, Jean quietly creeps back into the bedroom he shared with Y/N, and promptly bursts into tears. He sits on the floor with his back to his side of the bed and his face to the doorway and sobs into his hands. He must be loud, because Gerolf is roused from the deep sleep he’d been in and the old dog brings himself into the bedroom before pressing his way between Jean’s legs then slumping against him, massive and warm and so comforting that Jean can’t help but throw his arms around him and sob into his fur, whimpering about how he misses her and wants her back. Gerolf remained silent, of course, unable to speak in anything but barks and grumbles, but his presence alone is enough to comfort Jean. 

They slept in Jean and Y/N’s bed for the first time since her death that night. 

After that, Jean begins to acclimate to life without her. Clinging to their dog like a lifeline, he rebuilds his own mental strength and gets back to everyday life. He begins cooking again, and he stops being so timid around Y/N’s usual areas of the house. He carefully folds the unfinished crocheted blanket and puts it on Y/N’s pillow, and he never allows anyone or anything to sit in her chair, but other than that? He begins to live in the house again. 

And then comes his newest problem. 

Jean doesn’t know whether or not he wants to visit Paradis or send letters to the others who’ve been burning the ones Y/N had been sending all these years, informing them of her death and burial, because regardless of whether or not he’s happy with the fact that they’d ignored her for years ( he’s not ), they still grew up with her, fought beside her, lived, ate, and slept alongside her. They should know, he thought to himself, and, leaning back in the chair at Y/N’s writing desk that had now become one of his favorite seats since her passing ( since she’d loved it so much before ), Jean eyes the closet that Y/N had kept locked since she’d become too frail to even walk to the aforementioned writing desk. Swallowing hard, he blinks away sudden, unexpected tears. More letters were in there, he knew that there were, because she’d started storing them there when she found out the others were burning hers upon receiving them. 

He began thinking back on all the times he’d seen her sealing letters, and begins doing the math, only getting angrier as he does. Once he adds up all the letters in his head that they’d burnt that Y/N had sent ( one hundred and sixty-eight of them ) that led to her just writing them and filing them away in her closet,  it was a lot easier for Jean to decide not to visit Paradis to tell them, or to even write a letter. 

Then three months pass, and Jean’s thirty-two. 

He’d never expected to make it this far when he started his life in the Scouts, but he’d made it out. Then, when he’d married Y/N, he’d thought they’d die old and happy together — but then she was gone, just like Marco and their other friends, leaving just him and Gerolf. 

And now Gerolf was gone. 

Jean and Y/N had both been expecting it, even before she was gone, especially since the old street mutt was at least fourteen when they’d found him. Regardless, the loss of his last living domestic link to his wife sends him into a spiral, and he locks himself away again. Reiner and Annie, who had tried endlessly to get him to let them in so they could comfort him, are shut out again with no means of getting him to talk to them. Why would he make the effort? The world had taken everything he loved most from him. He had no reason to make an effort anymore. 

Then, after another two months, Jean goes out and buys the coffee shop. 

They reappear in Jean’s life and ask for her a year later. 

He’d turned to greet whoever had come into the coffee shop, and once his gaze locked on their easily recognizable figures he couldn’t believe his eyes. Almost immediately as the disbelief came anger, and he forced himself to turn away with the greeting dying on his tongue. He snatches a dirty glass, almost breaking it against the side of the wide sink, and begins to wash it. He’d heard through the grapevine that they’d come to the mainland, but he’d steadfastly refused to seek them out, still angry on Y/N’s behalf. 

He can hear them all chattering brightly behind him, two of them ( which sounded like Mikasa and Armin ) asking where Y/N was so happily that it made Jean’s heart twist in an ugly way inside his chest and he barely could resist the urge to throw the glass he was rinsing at their heads wherever they stood behind him. 

No ‘hello’? No ‘sorry for ditching you and then burning your only sources of communication because we were mad and refused to let go of a grudge, do you think you can forgive us’? Alright. Fine. Two could play at that game. 

“She’s been dead a year,” Jean answers without turning around instead, a swift twinge of cruel satisfaction striking through him as a sudden quiet falls over the familiar voices behind him. He doesn’t bother looking after that either, choosing instead to continue cleaning the glass in his hand as a shaky ‘W-What?’ reaches his ears, coming from behind him in an aged rendition of Conny’s voice ( a voice that, despite his own internalized fury, he finds that he’s missed ). He doesn’t answer right away, just like last time, and finishes cleaning that glass then puts it away before reaching for another and speaking again. “She died. Two years ago almost to the day, now — four more weeks and it will have been,” he laughs bitterly. “What a morbid turn of events that would have been, had you come then, wouldn’t it?”

“H-How — Why?!” It’s Mikasa’s voice, shaky and startled and hurting, and Jean takes a wicked satisfaction in it. It was good; they deserved to hurt like he’d hurt since she’d died, deserved to feel pain after abandoning their friend for years. It was nothing short of karma. 

“Sick,” is all he replies with, and he can almost hear their heart’s plummet. Everyone present knew that Y/N’s mother died of a hereditary sickness a few years before Maria fell to the titans — hell, Armin and Mikasa themselves helped Eren comfort her as she cried over her at her mother’s funeral. Jean even knew for a fact that she’d gone into more detail about her mother’s death with the Captain, who hadn’t said a word but who Jean knew was shaking ( which he could see in the reflection of the metal shaker he was washing now ). The sickness Y/N had died from was something that commonly ran in families from the Underground where the Captain had come from, and considering Y/N only saw the sun for the first time a week after she turned six and her mother dropped dead from the illness two years later, Jean wasn’t surprised that it had startled him — and he didn’t feel sorry for him, either. 

Like with Mikasa, he considered the Captain’s current  feelings deserved. 

He throws the rag down and gingerly places Y/N’s favorite glass on a shelf of it’s own, swallowing hard and taking a deep breath before letting it out all at once. “I’m done here,” he mutters. “Follow me — or don’t. I don’t really care.”

He leaves after that, the group following single file and waiting patiently as he locks up the building early, and the sounds of their footsteps against the sidewalk have him fighting of the urge to whirl around and yell at them to just fuck off. This was all Y/N had ever wanted, to see them again, and now they were here — almost two years too late, but here nonetheless. 

The group stop outside of the house Y/N and Jean had ended up living in, having desperately needing to escape the damned reparation apartments that only held bad memories, and they wait in silence as Jean unlocks the door and goes inside. He leaves the door behind himself open, and after a moment’s hesitation Levi is the first to enter, the others following like faithful but hesitant hounds in his wake. 

It’s dark inside the house, and Jean’s thrown his overcoat onto one of the stylish but comfortable-looking black couches in the living room and is sitting in an armchair. It looks like he’s not paying them any mind, but Levi can feel the younger man’s eyes on him as he moves to sit down in a chair that looked unused, as he didn’t want to appropriate anything Jean preferred, especially in the man’s own home; he owed him that much. 

“No!” Jean snaps suddenly, making everyone jump and Levi freeze in place. Jean sighs, but doesn’t tear his eyes from his former Captain and the chair he was touching. “Not that chair. That — That was Y/N’s favorite chair.”

His explanation was enough for Levi at ‘that was Y/N’s’ to make him jolt away from it as if it were on fire; he carefully makes his way over to the couch and grunts as he sits down next to Armin, who takes his cane from him helpfully and leans it against a side table. Y/N’s chair is given a wide berth by everyone else who takes a seat or stands in the living room. 

The room is silent for a long time, no one saying a word. The tension filling the spaces between them was almost thick enough to bite without being able to break through. 

“She never stopped writing them,” Jean says suddenly, his words spoken in a low tone and volume as the people in the room listen silently, “She kept going up until the last year; couldn’t — she couldn’t make the walk to her desk…” he stumbles over his own words when he remembers the last day she’d tried, the day she’d fallen to the ground and hadn’t gotten back up. She’d never walked again after that, and she’d hated it. 

“I… Jean I’m so sorry. It must have been so difficult losing a friend you’d known for so long and dealing with all of this by yourself,” Armin says softly, his voice shaking. He was hurting too — all these years he’d wasted being angry, and for what? A woman loyal to her lover? A close friend loyal to another close friend? He was a fool. 

The previous silence overtakes the room once again, but this time it’s different, an unexplainable anger filling Jean’s body at the mention of the word ‘friend’ then disappearing just as suddenly only to be replaced with something that couldn’t be explained as anything short of exhaustion for life.“Wife,” he corrects quietly, making them all freeze and go silent again, “I married her seven years ago.”

No one seems to know what to say. 

Getting up, he disappears into the bedroom and quietly walks over to said desk, gingerly taking the key hanging from the crooked nail he’d messed up accidentally that she’d begged to keep just because she wanted to remember his wild cursing before going to unlock the closet holding the letters. Picking up the case she’d asked him to put them in a month before she’d passed, he lugs them into the living room before dropping them on the table with a loud thud. 

“Take the box and get out,” he mutters venomously, leaving no room for argument as he retreats to his and Y/N’s bedroom and locks the door; his own letters had been placed on Y/N’s writing desk, left untouched all these months — but maybe it was time for him to read them. 

As he unties the brown twine holding them together, he hears everyone in the living room leave, the door shutting ominously behind them as they do, and Jean’s surprised at first that it doesn’t hurt as much as he’d expected it to — then again, he’s pretty much dead already without Y/N, so what did it matter?

Shaking as he holds the first letter Y/N had written to him tightly enough to strain the paper but not crinkle it, he begins to read, but he only makes it to the third before he finally breaks. 

“‘Think of me fondly’,” he reads aloud, laughing breathlessly in a way that slowly and painfully turns into heavy sobbing. “How couldn’t I?” he asks pleadingly to the letter, almost as if he thought it would be able to answer him. It, of course, didn’t, and he cast it across the desk and away from himself in favor of leaning on his elbows against the top of the desk and burying his face in his hands to cry longer, his tears falling and landing on the smooth wood of the desk top, slowly but surely forming small puddles that seeped into the pores of the wood and disappeared, just like she had all those weeks ago. 

Y/N was gone. 

Gerolf was gone. 

His comrades? They’d not been a part of his life in years. 

Jean was alone. Just like he’d feared for years. He’d told Y/N that years ago, even before she got sick, and she’d still left. 

He pushes himself up and staggers away from the desk, one of her letters clutched in his fest while the other wipes furiously at his face as he wails like a child. “It’s not fair,” he whispers, his entire body wracked with sobs. “IT’S NOT FAIR!” 

He shakily collapses to the floor and falls against the bed again, just as he had a year ago — only this time, Gerolf wasn’t there to comfort him. This time, he was alone with his pain and fear, and it showed in his tears and words. All night long, he screams and cries and mourns his losses — Marco, Sasha, Eren, Y/N, and he mourns his comrades, the people who had abandoned him just as surely as they’d abandoned his wife. 

After the sun rises and shines through a window, he blearily looks outside. A sparrow sits on the windowsill, a large bird he faintly remembers seeing years ago ( but that he’s unsure of where he saw it ) at the sparrow’s side, both looking through the window at him inquisitively. He stares at them, unsure of what to say and afraid to move should he scare them off, when the larger bird takes off, circling around the house judging by the fact that it keeps flying by the window. For three loops of the larger bird’s flight, the sparrow stays on the windowsill, just staring at him, before finally pecking at it and taking off to join the larger bird. They disappear into the light of the rising sun, and suddenly Jean doesn’t feel the urge to cry anymore. Instead, he gets to his feet and pulls out a suitcase before beginning to pack his things, ready for a trip out to see Annie and Reiner. 

It was time to start over — even if that didn’t mean falling in love with someone else again. 

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein x you #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirstein x y/n #jean kirschtein x y/n #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x you #aot x you #attack on titan x y/n #aot x y/n #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin x you #snk x you #shingeki no kyojin x y/n #snk x y/n #— 𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘. | 𝐉. 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍.

[takeomisbitch]

The Freak Panty Thief

Kinktober Day 1 Jean Kirstien x Fem!Reader

Word count:1310

Tags: NSFW, Modern AU, Panty thief, slight begging, slight sub!Jean, slight dom!Reader, caught, panty gag, cream pie, forgetting that there is a camera in the room so recorded sex

Synopsis:After finding your out your panties been going missing for two weeks when your best friend Jean would come over your decide to set a “trap” for him

Kinktober Masterlist | Attack on Titan Masterlist

For the past 2 weeks you notice pairs of panties would go missing then randomly show up whenever your dear best friend, Jean comes over. You obviously just thought it was a coincidence and that he wouldn’t steal your panties, he’s not that dirty or a perv. But one day when you notice he was in the bathroom for too long, you also notice your bathroom door wide open so you came to the conclusion that it is Jean but why not wait it out for a bit. 

To be honest you hope it is him because it kinda arouses you picturing Jean with a pair of your panties around his cock as he plays with himself, or him smelling a pair of them as he jacks off. 

—--- 

3 days later you now have a small baby camera hooked up to your room pointing at your dresser, you also cleared out your panties drawer and put a little note for Jean “I knew you were a freak<3.”  Now it’s time to lay your plan out.

You call Jean over for a horror movie night to start off the month, “Yea I’ll be there soon, Y/N.” He speaks into the phone, “Ok make it fast, bye” you hang up before he can say his goodbye, a smirk on your face as you wait for him to show up. 

Around 9 pm Jean is knocking on your door with food from your favorite restaurant, “Coming” you shout getting up from your spot on the couch to open up the door for him, “Took you long enough” Jean smiles at you, the smile he uses when he leaves you house with a pair of your panties in his pocket. ‘I got your favorite” he holds up the bag as he walks past you and into your kitchen, you close the door behind him walking into the kitchen as well grabbing some plates and silverware. 

“Hurry so we can start,” you tell him, rocking back and forth on your feet, “Hold on, let me go to the bathroom first.” He puts the food he had in his hands down on the counter before walking down the hall and to the ‘bathroom’ with his hand in his pocket like he is holding on to something. 

Within seconds you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, pulling it out you see it’s a notification from the app that's connected to the camera in your room, opening the app you see Jean about to pull the drawer door open. Before he can open it you walk down the hallway and to your room watching the video that displays on your phone as you reach your room. Jean opens the draw and the look of horror washes over his face. 

“What you doin’ Jean?” you bite your lip hiding the smile that's on your face as you watch Jean look at you with fearful eyes, “I-It’s not what you think I swear.” He stutters out his eyes leaving yours and looking down at the floor. “You sure? Cause it kinda looks like you're going through my panty drawer,” smirking at him you walk closer to him pressing your chest up against him as his back hits your dresser, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to.” he bites his lower lip trying not to look down into your shirt, and a bit ashamed that he was just caught looking through your private things and trying to put the ones he took back. 

“I hope you washed them before putting them back”, teasing him. You bat your eyelashes at him, rubbing your hand up and down his arm “Of course I did.” He blushes, knowing you could feel his hard on that makes his pants 10 times more tighter, “Jean do you want to have sex with me” getting straight to the point hoping he says yes to you, “Yes please” he barely whispers. You take your shirt off dragging him to your bed, the back of his knees hit the bed. Jean soon takes his shirt off and throws it on the floor next to yours; his pants soon follow and left in only this boxer, his boner more noticeable. 

“Lay down for me, Jean” you ordered him as you took your pants and bra off waiting for him to lay down before taking your panties off. Jean lays up against your headboard, when he is finally situated you take your panties off and toss them at him. 

Getting on the bed you crawl up to his pelvis, looking up at him silently asking permission to pull his dick out, Jean nods his head letting out a small quiet yes. You pull his aching dick out of its confinements, his tip leaking just from getting caught and you touching him. Swiping your thumb across his flushed tip he lets out a small whimper, before you take his thick length down your throat, bobbing your head up down on his cock, drool seeping from the sides of your mouth the more you suck his cock, stopping at the base of this cock you hold yourself there as your hand reaches for his heavy balls you squeeze them as your pull your head back up. 

“Shit, Y/N I’m gonna cum don’t stop” he whines throwing his head back against your headboard, you quickly pull yourself from his cock licking your lips as you pant. “Fuck why you stop” Jean looks at you with doe eyes as his hip buck up into the air looking for some sort of friction. “Cause I want you to cum in me” you tilt your head at him, moving to straddle his lap, grabbing his length aligning it with your dripping hole, “I’m gonna need you to be quiet, Jean I don’t want my neighbors to hear you” you tell him before leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. 

“Ok I’ll be quiet” You know he is lying Jean can be whiny even without sex, smiling at him you lower yourself on his dick bottoming him out as you both let out a hushed moan. “Fuck Jean your so big” slowly rocking your hips back and forth, Jean brings his hands to your hips gripping them so hard that it will probably leave bruises tomorrow. You grip his shoulders as you bounce up and down on his cock, your cunt squeezing him every time you lower yourself, “Shit if you keep squeezing me like that I’m gonna cum” he moans out his grip on your hips tightening even more. 

“Please don’t stop” he begs and moans as your sweet cunt squeezes him, annoyed by how loud he is getting your grab the pair of panties you threw at him and stuff em in his mouth “Thought I told you to be quiet” his grunts and moans become muffled and his blush deepens. Fucking you and Jean dumb on his cock you feel your high approarch you grab Jeans hand from your hip and bring it to your clit, “Rub it for me Jean.” His thumb rubs tight fast circles against your swollen bud, “Shit I’m coming” your walls tighten around him as you gush on his cock, the moan you let out was louder than Jeans you drop your head on his shoulder, Jean soon follows after you his cum painting your pretty pussy white as his cries get muffled by your panites. 

“Shit Jean you felt so good” taking your panties out his mouth, he’s panting has his licks lips the blush on his face never fading, “next time you want a pair just ask for one” you kiss his cheek as he hums in agreement still dazed from his orgasm. You giggle at his response getting up from your bed to clean yourself up. “Wait what you say” 

©Bella2023

#Bella writes ʕ•̫͡•ʔ #kinktober 2023 #jean x y/n #jean kirschtein x y/n #jean x you #jean x reader #jean kirschtien #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan jean #attack on titan x female reader #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschstein #jean kirschtein smut #aot smut #anime imagines

[kooruphobic]

HANDS OFF — jean kirschtein/reader

𓆩♡𓆪 notes : is this self-indulgent? yes. am i still going to publish it? ...yes. 𓆩♡𓆪 tags : modern au, jealousy, teasing, fluff and smut, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex, nipple play, finger sucking, name-calling, dirty talk, creampie, multiple orgasms, degradation, praise kink, thigh riding, begging, crying, overstimulation, cunnilingus, aftercare (kind of), mentioned eren yeager, jean is a little insecure

𓆩♡𓆪 word count : 3.8k

𓆩♡𓆪 summary : jean can't keep his hands off his girlfriend; you. so when you tell him to keep his hands off for the rest of the night, and in return, you'd let him do anything to you when you got home, he accepts your challenge. but jean has to take you home a little early because you can't stop teasing him.

𓆩♡𓆪 also posted on ao3

You swore you were going to kill whoever designed your dress. 

 For the past ten minutes, you struggled to pull up the zipper in the back. Mentally, you cursed yourself out for not picking the one without one. The zipper wasn’t even stuck on the fabric around the sides; it just wouldn't go up no matter how hard you tried.

Jean watched you struggle, offering to help but falling silent when you snapped at him and said no. You didn’t tell him no because you didn't want help; Jean just found it extremely hard to keep his hands off you once he touched you.

“You know, I can help. I won’t do anything, promise.”

“That’s what you said last time,” you huff, dropping your arms in defeat. “We were twenty minutes late to that restaurant. Do you know how many annoyed texts I got from Sasha?”

You feel Jean's arms wrap around your waist. “C’mon, just let me help.” 

“Jean, I swear to fucking god, get your hands off me.”

“You look so good in this dress,” he mutters, kissing along your neck, “but you would look better with it off.”

“Jean.”

“You can’t even zip it up all the way. It’s a sign from the universe.” He drags one of your dress straps down your shoulder.

“Jean.”

Jean presses his lips against yours, letting his hands roam across your body, tracing every curve and crevice. You try to push him away, but you find yourself wrapping your arms around his neck. Your legs go weak as he drags your dress strap further down your shoulder. He pushes you against your vanity, and your fingers find purchase in his hair. You pull him closer to you, but when Jean’s fingers begin to unhook your exposed bra, your phone starts buzzing.

You come to your senses and push him off you, glancing at your phone to see it’s Connie calling.

“Ignore it,” Jean says, reaching for your phone. You slap his arm away.

“I won’t answer, but you need to stop doing that.”

He smiles. “Doing what?” 

“You know what I fucking mean. My lipgloss is ruined ‘cause of you. Now help me zip up my dress, and let’s go.”

“Can you really blame me?” Jean sighs, reaching his hands up to your zipper and pulling it up. He readjusts your dress strap and places another kiss on your shoulder. “You’re too pretty.��

“I promise you can kiss me all you want when we get home,” you say, sliding off the vanity. 

“Can I do other things, too?”

“If you keep your hands off me all night, I’ll let you.”

“Challenge accepted.”

Business. That’s what Jean was focused on. Eren invited you both to a big party for his brother Zeke’s company, celebrating their latest success with new locations in another country. Jean didn’t pay much attention to the other details because he was too focused on you the entire time Eren talked to him. His words went in one ear and out the other. All he had in mind was that you both were here for business. That’s it.

Jean was confident at first. He didn’t hold your hand, didn’t put his hand on your thigh, or even bother to talk to you for half the night. Instead, he focused on catching up with his friends, who he hadn’t seen in so long. All that confidence was totally drained when you innocently walked up to him and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, then disappeared into the crowd without saying a word. He tried looking for you everywhere but didn’t find you until everyone sat down for dinner.

You and Jean sat together, with the rest of your friends. You tried to sit across from him rather than right next to him, but he moved as soon as you did, so you gave up and remained in your seat. 

“Why the fuck did you do that earlier?” he whispered.

“Do what?” you smiled at him. 

“You know what I fucking mean. I thought you said I needed to—”

“You haven’t failed, have you? I never said that I needed to keep my hands off, Jean. Just you.”

He struggled the rest of the night. You ran your hand along his thigh, kissed him when nobody was looking, and whispered how good he looked in his ear. You were driving him insane. Absolutely fucking insane. 

Jean really lost it when you grabbed his hand and placed it on your waist while you spoke to your friends. You told him, “It’s okay if I’m moving your hands, just don’t do anything else when I do.” 

He had to count in his head to keep himself from doing anything else. He only gave one-word responses whenever one of your friends questioned him. When one of your friends asked if you two were dating, you simply smiled and told her you were just good friends.

“We need to leave. Now,” Jean muttered when your friends walked away. 

“Hm, why?” you asked, turning to him.

He didn’t even give you a response. He just dragged you out of the building and shoved you into his car, staying silent the entire ride home.

“Do you think you’re fucking funny?” he says, slamming your bedroom door shut.

“What? What did I do?” you question, feigning innocence.

“Don’t play dumb with me. How is it fair that I can’t touch you, but you can?”

“Excuse me?” you retort. “How is it fair that you can touch me all you want and make us late when we actually have to go somewhere? You think that’s fucking fair—”

“You let me. Every single time, you let me. Don’t act like you don’t love the way I touch you.”

He’s right. You do love the way he touches you, and even though ever since you’ve gotten with him, he’s made you late for just about everything—you’d let him keep doing it. But there’s a part of you that wants to lie, a part of you that wants to keep your confidence and ego safe.

“Please. I fucking hate it. I heard Eren does it better,” you scoff, glaring at him.

A feeling of jealousy bubbles up within Jean. What the fuck are you mentioning Eren for?

“So you think of Eren every time I kiss you?” he asks, backing you up against your bedroom door. “You think of Eren every time I put my fingers inside you?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling. You rarely see Jean get angry, but when he does, he’s just so fucking hot.

“Maybe I do."

“And you’re thinking of Eren right now?”

“Maybe I am, Jean. What the fuck are you going to do about it?”

You tilt your head to the side, glaring up at him. You try to mask your nervousness with a confident smile. You’ve forgotten that Jean is extremely tall. Way taller than you. And the way he’s staring down at you could not possibly mean anything good is going to happen.

“Once I’m fucking done with you,” he whispers, “you’re gonna forget his name. Because the only name coming from your mouth will be mine.”

You open your mouth to say something, but your words are silenced and forgotten when Jean presses his lips against yours. He doesn’t waste his time being gentle. His arms wrap around your waist, and he slams you against the door, pressing you so hard against it you swear it would break. Your mind goes blank, and soon your thoughts are only him. You can only focus on his mouth, his touch, him. 

Your brain fails to register what happens in the next minute because your dress is suddenly on the floor, and you’re on the bed beneath him. His mouth is off yours, and you get the chance to breathe; in the next second, your breath is taken away again when he buries his face into your neck. You feel Jean’s lips, wet from your kiss, against your skin. You whine softly, but Jean still catches it. And then you feel him sucking, his teeth grazing, and his lips again, kissing the mark he’s made. The slight pain mixes with pleasure, sending shivers down your spine.

“You liked that, huh?” he teases, softly kissing the mark he’s made. 

“...No,” you lie.

“Really?” Jean brings one of his hands down to your panties, rubbing your slit through the fabric. “Cause your body’s telling me otherwise.”

“I’m not—” you can’t finish your sentence because he presses his finger against your clit, making you whine and squirm beneath him. He rubs small circles against it, applying more pressure every time you whimper. You close your eyes, trying to roll your hips forward to add to your pleasure.

“What’s wrong? It’s not enough?” he jeers. You whine and shake your head. “Use your words. Don’t get shy now.”

“You know what I want.”

“I don’t think I do. Look at me and tell me.”

Jean grabs your chin, and you open your eyes and look up at him. Your eyes are already begging for it, but when you open your mouth, those sweet pleas leave your lips, and he can’t help but give you what you want.

Jean tugs your panties down, kissing your inner thighs before sliding a finger over your slit. You’re already so wet; he slides two fingers in with ease. You clench around his fingers, and Jean can’t help but groan when you do. You’re so tight, so warm around his fingers. 

He keeps his fingers still for a few seconds before pumping them in and out of you, tantalizingly slow. You buck your hips against him, but he brings his free hand to your waist and holds you in place. Every time you squirm, trying to move your hips so he’d go deeper inside, he’d go even slower. 

“Please. Please, Jean. I’m sorry—”

“Are you really? Doesn’t seem like you are,” he says, tone calm. He rubs his thumb over your clit while keeping his fingers inside of you, relishing the way your thighs twitch. When you clench around him, he pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to your mouth. You whine at the loss of contact but open your mouth for him, sucking and swirling your tongue around his fingers. “Bet you wish these were Eren’s fingers, huh?”

Your thighs clench at his words, and you shake your head as he removes his fingers from your mouth. He laughs mockingly, bringing his head down to your chest. His fingers skillfully unhook your bra, and he carelessly tosses it to the side. 

Jean moves his mouth to one of your tits. You shiver when you feel his tongue against your nipple. He blows slightly, and the cool air mixed with Jean’s saliva makes the soft bud harden.

Jean’s tongue runs over your nipple again before he takes the entirety of your breast in his mouth. Jean brings his free hand to the other, groping the soft flesh, flicking his finger over your hardening nipple. He sucks and licks harder on the other. You feel his teeth graze your nipple and gasp.

He switches with his hand, giving your other nipple the same attention he did as the first. When he’s done, and his mouth leaves your tit, a soft, lewd, pop sound fills the room.

“Jean,” you whine, pussy throbbing and needy, “please. Please just—”

“Shh. We’re getting there.” 

He places gentle kisses along your stomach, murmuring how pretty you are as he does. You shiver when he reaches between your thighs. Jean’s breath tickles your clit; then his mouth latches onto it, tongue circling. He grazes his teeth against it before placing kisses along your wet folds. “So fuckin’ wet for me,” he murmurs. You feel him lick along your slit, then his tongue prods your entrance, and he lingers there—teasingly—before he plunges his tongue into your warm, wet pussy. 

“F-fuck,” you moan, fingers finding purchase in his hair. Jean teases you, tongue-fucking you slowly, just as he did with his fingers. “More, please give me more.” 

To your surprise, he listens to you this time, and he begins to work his tongue faster inside of your pussy. Your thighs clench around him, earning a low groan from him. His voice sends shivers up your spine, and you shut your eyes, lost in the pleasure he’s giving you. 

When your thighs would clench around his head impossibly tighter, he removed his mouth from your wet pussy and sucked your clit before returning his tongue to where it was. He was stalling, stopping you from coming undone before him. It was torture. But he knew you loved it so much.

“Jean… Jean, I need to cum. Please, please let me—” you whine as he removes himself from you yet again, but this time, moving his head away from your thighs. He kisses you, shoving his tongue down your throat, so you know what you taste like. 

“You’ve been such a good girl so far,” he coos, kissing along your jaw, “just be good for a little while longer, okay?”

You nod, eyes flickering down to his pants. He was still fully clothed, and you were entirely bare for him. It made you feel a little embarrassed. 

“I want you to do something for me,” he whispers, pulling you up as he sits against the headboard, “I want you to ride my thigh.”

“...What?” your breath hitches in your throat, surprised at his sudden request. He had never asked you to do this before, not until today.

“You heard me.”

“But you still…have your clothes on.”

“Does it look like I care?” he repositions you, so you’re straddling his right thigh. “Ride my fucking thigh.”

Your swallow because, for some reason, your mouth has gone dry. Jean grabs your arms, places them around his neck, and looks at you expectantly. You avoid his gaze, experimentally grinding your hips against his thigh. You whine, pleasure shooting up into you, your pussy still sensitive and wet. 

“C’mon, you can do it,” Jean plants his hands on your waist. “Do it for me.”

You roll your hips again, harder this time, trying to create as much friction between his clothed thigh and your cunt as possible. Small whines and whimpers fall from your bruised lips as you rock back and forth, harder every time, trying to replicate the feeling of Jean inside you. He flexes his thigh, and even through the fabric of his pants, you can feel it. Jean smiles when you pull yourself closer to him, rutting yourself onto him like a bitch in heat.

“Keep going.” 

Jean’s words egg you on as you lay your forehead on his shoulder, losing yourself in pleasure. Jean watches—attentively, his pants feeling increasingly restrictive with every roll of your hips. As your hips stutter against him, he pushes you down into his thigh, watching your face contort in pleasure. A loud moan rips from your throat; your thighs clench, your pussy spasms around him, and waves of pleasure course through you as you ride your high out.

“Just like that. Good girl. Good fucking girl,” he groans. Jean kisses you for what seems like the hundredth time.

“Fuck. I just…”

“I know, I know,” he whispers, pulling you into him. “But I’m not done yet.”

“What? But I just came—”

Jean turns you over, pushing you down onto your back. In a second, his pants are discarded and forgotten on the floor, and he’s lifting your legs up so you can wrap them around his waist. “You have, but I haven’t. Take this as payback for pulling that shit tonight,” he grumbles. He tugs his boxers down, beads of pre-cum spilling from his tip. “You know how badly I wanted to fuck you when you kissed me? When everyone had their eyes off of us? I wanted to take you right then and there, fuck you while everyone watched. Give everyone at Zeke’s party a little show.” 

His words make you clench your thighs together. 

“You still thinkin’ about Eren?” Jean grunts, rubbing his tip against your sopping wet pussy. You try to respond; you’re still dizzy from your last orgasm. “Answer me, bitch.”

You shake your head, gazing at him through half-lidded eyes, pupils blown with lust. He scoffs, pushing himself inside of you, inch by inch. He could go all in if he wanted to because you’re so wet, but he decides to tease you; to make you feel every inch of him fill you up. “Maybe one day I’ll bring Eren over here. Have you suck him off while I fuck your tight pussy. I bet you’d like that, huh? Fucking slut.”

He’s gone from calling you a good girl to degrading you in a few minutes. Jean knows you like it. He knows you love it because he can feel your cunt squeeze around him at his words.

He finally bottoms out into you; a low, throaty groan rips from his throat. “F-fuck. You’re so fucking tight.”

Jean pushes himself impossibly deeper into you. He slides a hand under you and pulls you closer to him. Your pussy throbs, still sensitive. Jean fills you up so well. You feel so hot, so fucking hot, and Jean pulling you closer to him makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

“Jean…” you whine, eager for him to start moving. “Please. I need it so bad, please…”

He chuckles, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you what you want.”

He pulls his hips back so that his tip is barely inside you, making you whine, feeling so empty. But then he snaps his hips forward, groaning every time he does. He continues, thrusting in and out of you slowly—adoring how your eyes go wide every time his dick slams back inside you.

Jean tries to keep his slow pace, but you just feel so fucking good that he can’t. He begins to pick up the pace, slamming inside you over and over. Jean’s grip on your wrists tightens; you suck him in so well, like your pretty cunt was made for him.

Obscene sounds fill the room; the squelch of your tight, wet cunt and the sound of Jean’s hips slamming against yours. Jean lets go of your wrists and grabs the headboard of the bed, and once he does, he starts hitting that sweet spot inside of you that makes your vision blur. 

You squirm beneath him, hands gripping the bedsheets for dear life, failing to form coherent sentences from the pleasure. All you can moan is Jean’s name. His name rolls off your tongue—you keep repeating it, almost like a prayer.

Jean laughs when he hears you, smiling to himself as if he’s won some sort of prize. “Eren could never fuck you like this. You’re all mine. I’m the only one who can make you feel like this, huh? Moan my name louder.”

You oblige, squeezing around him as you do. It makes Jean actually moan, something you rarely hear. 

“Fuck. I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. I’d bet you’d like that, huh? And when we go see your friends again, you can go ahead and tell them we’re just ‘good friends’ while my cum is practically spilling out of your fucking pussy.” 

Your jaw goes slack; you’re unable to say Jean’s name. Tears blur your vision as he slams into you impossibly harder. You can feel every inch of him inside you, every slam of his hips. There’s a familiar feeling in your core, like a knot about to be untied. You try to say something, but all that comes out is a broken sob as he pounds into you. You try and meet him halfway with his thrusts, bucking your hips forward in a feeble attempt to cum.

“Shit,” Jean hisses, “don’t cum yet. Cum with me. I’m so close just—just hold on a little longer, okay?”

Jean feels the way you flutter around him. He swallows and notices the tear that rolls down your cheek. He feels a sense of guilt settle in his chest, but it also turns him on to know you’re crying because he’s making you feel good. 

Jean’s rhythm grows sloppy and inconsistent, and you can feel his cock twitch inside you. That sends you reeling over the edge. White hot sparks of pure pleasure course through you, coming at you nonstop as Jean continues to pump into you. You feel your limbs weaken as strings of broken moans leave your mouth.

Jean thrusts into you one last time, forceful and hard, before coating your insides with his cum. He moans, letting go of the headboard and slumping on top of you. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck…”

Jean pulls himself off you, watching the cum dribble out of you. He brings his mouth to your pretty cunt, tongue collecting the mix of both your fluids on his tongue. You twitch at the sensation, still sensitive but too fucked out to give a proper response.

“C’mere,” Jean says, pulling you towards him. He kisses you—softly this time—and you can taste yourself on his tongue. He then kisses you along your collarbone, whispering compliments. “You did so well for me.”

“Jean…” you mutter, body feeling weak.

“Hm?”

“You should get mad more often.”

He laughs and pulls you closer to him, absentmindedly tracing nonsensical shapes along your skin. He falls silent for a few moments. “Did you really mean what you said? About Eren, I mean. And hating my touch.”

You roll your eyes. “If I hated how you make me feel, do you think we would be here right now? And of course, I didn’t mean what I said about Eren. I’m dating you for a reason, y’know.”

“Can you tell me you love me?” he asks.

“Jean. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Please.”

You sigh and press a soft kiss on his cheek. “I love you.”

Jean doesn’t smile, but you see his eyes light up when you say it. “Okay, now that you’ve said that, can I ask you something else?”

“What?”

“Can you ride my thigh again?”

“...You’re kidding, right?”

“I thought you loved me.”

“Jesus Christ, Jean,” you grumble. “You’re so lucky I can’t feel my legs right now. Because I would have walked out the door.” 

“...So will you?”

You give him a judging look, but there’s a pleading look in his eyes that you can’t ignore. “Fine. I will. But you have to help me.” 

“Anything for you,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist.

Yeah, you're definitely going to kill whoever designed your dress.

𓆩♡𓆪 notes : got a lil lazy at the end, but this fic idea literally popped into my head at 3 in the morning and i just had to write it. my other wips are definitely death staring me rn...

hope you enjoyed!

#jean kirschtein #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirschtein x fem reader #jean kirschtein x y/n #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein x you #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin #aot #aot imagines #aot fandom #aot fic #jean #aot smut #jean kirschtein imagine #i love jean #kooruphobic

[sexlapis]

❀ : jean kirschtein x female! reader

cw : ns4w, reader has a clitoris hood piercing! (i know the clitoris & clitoris hood are different btw i’m just going to say clit bc it’s shorter & easier) big clit reader <3, overstimulation, squirting, clit stimulation, sensitive reader<3, tattooed jean, petnames (angel, puppy<3, baby etc)

masterlists

thinking about jean who’s gf (u) has a lil clit piercing. a little gold barbell across your big, brown adorable clit. you got it on a whim, your friends daring you to get one & you almost saying no…but then you had a change of heart and got it anyway. now imagine jean’s shock when his sensible & responsible girlfriend has a whole clit piercing..yes i think he would go crazy & would want to play with your pussy so bad.

unfortunately for him (& you), you were not allowed to touch your clit piercing or masturbate. the piercer had given instructions on how to clean your piercing & you had to clean it gently and carefully as it healed. you were not allowed to masturbate for a whole month. a whole month of no action for you or jean. it had been the longest month of your life. everytime you went to clean you piercing and your folds in general it would always make you so sensitive & wet, even more than you already were. jean was no better. he would always attached to you like a puppy, so desperate to have sex with you but not being able to. he was constantly begging for just a little bit of action, a little bit of anything from you. “please baby, please just let me put my fingers in you…i won’t even go anywhere near your clit, promise.” you would always shove him away, scolding his desperate behaviour like you weren’t already wet from his words alone.

finally when the day had come for your piercing to fully heal, jean was on you in an instant, kissing you and sucking on your soft lips and tongue. then he’s taking off your clothes and leaving stark naked on the bed. jean brings his middle and ring finger to your mouth, saying, “open” before you open your mouth for him to put them in your mouth, getting his fingers all nice and wet. the moment jean’s fingers find your clit, your gasping. the piercing on your clit hood makes the feeling so enhanced and strong. it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. it’s a sharp feeling but not at all painful. it’s pleasant and overwhelming and you’re already feeling a pit in your stomach as jean is rolling his soft fingers over your fat clit gently. jean is cooing at you softly. “does that feel good, angel? uh-huh? i bet it feels so fucking good. you’re leaking all over my fingers, baby…” you release a whine at his words, your thighs quivering at the intense, wonderful pressure on your clit and your lower stomach. one of your hands is tangled in your bed sheets while the other grips onto jean’s tattooed forearm tightly. drool seeps from your agape, glossy lips and tears well in your eyes and jean has never seen anything prettier.

your hips are jerking to meet his fingers, fast and gentle on your clit. one of jean’s hands reach up to play with your breast. jean speaks as his eyes wonder over your trembling body. he knows you’re about to cum. “aww…you’re so close honey. c’mon just let go for me..” you’re letting out a succession of high pitched gasps before you’re squirting on jean’s hand and ruining the bed sheets. it’s too much, too much for your poor body and fuzzy head as you try to close your legs but jean is persistent. his one hand leaves your breast and finds you thigh, keeping it open so he can continue his assault on your poor, weeping clit. your hips move sporadically and he works & talks you through your non-stop orgasm in awe. “that’s it, puppy…making such a mess..just like that…” jeans eyes are fixated on your wet dripping cunt, whitish-transparent liquid leaking out of your brown folds.

you’re eyes are unfocused and shuddered breaths leave your mouth as you try to recover from the longest and strongest orgasm of your life. jean’s kissing your face before sneakily pushing two fingers into you soaked cunt. you moan in surprise and jean silences it with a kiss. “gimmie another sweetheart please.”

you whimper loudly, “jeaann! i caan’t cum againnnn!” but you lean into his touch despite yourself & jean smiles at that. before long he’s made you cum three times with just his fingers alone. you pussy is weeping, overly sensitive and soaked. you’ve ruined you sheets and jean’s hand.

“jean please.. that’s enough.” you say, your voice weak and tired. jean gives you mercy and his fingers finally leave you ruined cunt. he sucks on his wet fingers, savouring your taste. you hit his shoulder, face warm and he laughs at you playfully. jean leans in and kisses you softly. “that was so fucking hot..seriously we need to do that again. after we deal with my hard on because jesus christ this shit is about to snap off.”

a/n : remember to pee after sex and clean your pussy throughly , especially if someone came inside of you…you don’t know what’s in that sperm😟

#jean.💋 #jean x reader #jean x y/n #jean x you #jean smut #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein x y/n #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein smut #jean kirstein x you #aot smut #jean x black reader

[levi-supreme]

For your 600 follower event, can I get English breakfast tea and a scone? I’m a huge fan of Lord of the Rings and I talk through the movies a lot, quoting and critiquing them.

Characters: Jean x fem!reader

Prompts: Jean [English breakfast] and movie date [scone]

A/N: Hello there, and thank you so much for the support!!!! I'm sorry this took so long, and I hope you'll enjoy this sweet movie date with Jean!!! 💛 I am not very familiar with LOTR, so a big BIG shout out to @m-jelly for the help on this!!! Thank you so much Jelly! <3

I also apologise for the amount of dialogues in there oops! Having a lovers' squabble with Jean was actually pretty fun to write. Also, I had to rely on youtube videos for a crash course on LOTR so I hope I managed to nail something, and I hope you'll like it too!

Rei’s 600 Follower Event: Date-A-Boyfriend (Closed)

Once a month, you and your boyfriend Jean would organise a movie marathon, and this month, is was your turn to host and choose a movie. You chose to watch The Lord of the Rings as it was your absolute favourite, and you would never miss a chance to watch the movies over and over again.

You two prepared loads of snacks as you knew how long the movies were. There were salted and caramel popcorn, nachos and cheese, pretzels, crackers and dips, veggie chips, cookies, biscuits, chocolate, and also soft drinks as well.

"Remind me how long the marathon would last again?" Jean questioned as you sat on the couch, holding a large bowl of freshly popped caramel popcorn.

"It's 11 hours and 26 minutes, Jean," you giggled, feeding him some hot popcorn. Jean raised his eyebrow.

"Really? I swear the internet told me it was shorter."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, eating some popcorn, "of course it's longer, honey. We have to go with the extended version. It's the only acceptable answer." Jean took the blanket and covered it over both your legs.

"I better not catch you dozing off halfway, then." Jean playfully pinched your cheek. "You always doze off when we get to The Two Towers."

"Nah-uh, not today, sweetie," you laughed and ate some more popcorn, "I'm gonna stay awake." Jean merely smirked and muttered 'that's what you said the last time' under his breath.

"I heard that," you scowled, playfully poking Jean on his ticklish spots making him howl with laughter, "I'll stay awake this time. I promise." Once Jean stopped laughing and you both were comfortable, you took the remote control and started the movie.

»»————-　　————-««

"You actually did stay up all the way, huh?" Jean stretched and yawned loudly when the credits started rolling. Looking at the clock in the living room, it was already close to 7am. Maybe you two could even go to the café nearby for breakfast. You finished your cup of lemonade and turned to face your boyfriend.

"I told you I was going to stay awake." You looked at Jean smugly, stretching your neck and your arms. The both of you continued watching the ending credits roll by silently. You've always had a lingering question in your head every time you watched The Lord of the Rings, and this time, you needed to get this question out of your mind.

"Jean." You broke the silence after the credits finished rolling.

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Jean sensed your tone of voice a little different than usual. He eyed you nervously and gulped before nodding, "... yeah?"

"What would you do... if you were in Aragorn's shoes?" You turned to Jean as he looked at you silently. "What would you have done if it were you?"

Jean was tongue-tied. He looked as though he had something to say, yet he just opened and closed his mouth like a gaping goldfish.

"I would've done the same, you know," you turned towards the TV again, "I would've done what Arwen did. I'd give up immortality for a life with the person I love most."

"And I would stop you from doing so, exactly like what Aragorn did."

"But why?" You questioned Jean again, and he remained silent. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I would want you to be happy." Jean stared hard at you. "I—j-just, well. Just imagine. You would've outlived me, for sure. What will happen to you once I'm gone? You're going to be all alone, and you're going to be miserable. You're going to die of a broken heart like Arwen, and I wouldn't want that to happen to you. I don't want you to suffer."

"I beg to differ," you took Jean's hand and held it, "I don't care about all that. Yeah, sure, I will be alone, but at least I was happy. I may be heartbroken without you, but I wouldn't have any regrets. I'd rather live a short but fulfilling life and die of a broken heart than to live a long life filled with regrets."

Jean gripped your hand tighter, staring hard at you again. "Sweetie. Listen to me. That's silly, and very risky, okay? Arwen chose to give up her immortality and look at what happened? If the ring wasn't destroyed, she would have died. All her choices and decisions would have gone to waste."

"But look at them! Arwen saw her future with Aragorn, and they even had a family together. She decided to take a gamble for her happiness and for the man she loved. If that isn't the purest and most beautiful form of love, I don't know what else is.

"Sometimes you just have to take a gamble, honey," you loosened your grip and gently cupped Jean's cheek, "I'll put my faith in the people I trust, and I believe in them too. I'll do anything in my power to be with you.

"Remember what Arwen said to Aragorn in Rivendell? She said 'I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone', and that is exactly what I want to tell you too. It doesn't matter that I'll be alone. What matters is that I get be with you, and that's already more than enough."

Jean looked at you again and sighed, laughing and shaking his head in defeat, "fine, sweetie, you win, okay? I'm yours until the end of eternity."

Smiling, you gently pat Jean's cheek, giving him a kiss. "And so am I. I'm yours until the end of eternity too."

As you stretched your limbs on the couch, Jean looked at you again and suddenly, he pulled you into his embrace and hugged you tightly. Your arms snaked up his back and hugged him in return, and the both of you remained in each other's embrace.

"I know your question was hypothetical, but don't ask me things like this again, 'kay? It's scary." Jean muttered out of a sudden, causing you to break out a laughter.

"You're ruining the moment, Jean, shhh," you giggled, nuzzling your head in the crook of his neck, "just keep quiet and hug me." The both of you continued hugging each other on the couch, until Jean's stomach rumbled loudly, making you burst out laughing again.

"Well I'm sorry to ruin the moment again, but I'm starving, and I want food. Proper food." Your giant boyfriend grumbled and shook himself free from the hug. "Let's wash up and get breakfast." Jean complained again and pushed himself off the couch, dragging you to the bathroom while you had a wide smile on your face.

Aaaaaaaaaaand that's it for the movie date with Jeanbo!! Thank you so much for sending me such a lovely request, and I hope you liked it!!

Tagging: @ack3rlady  @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein  @hannie2kay @thesimpsstuff @lilshades  @jayteacups  @nelapanela94  @postwarlevi @levisbrat25 @galactict3a @ladycheesington

If you would like to be tagged, sign up for the tag list below!

Rei’s 600 Follower Event: Date-A-Boyfriend (Closed)

Rei’s 600 Follower Event: Date-A-Boyfriend master list | Rei’s Springtime Event grand master list

Event tag list | Rei’s tag list

#melyannathemaia.asks #rei.answers #jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean x fem!reader #jean kirstein x fem!reader #jean kirschtein x fem!reader #jean x you #jean kirstein x you #jean kirschtein x you #jean x y/n #jean kirstein x y/n #jean kirschtein x y/n #jean #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein #jean scenarios #jean kirstein scenarios #jean kirschtein scenarios #snk scenarios #aot scenarios #levi.supreme #rei's 600 follower event: date-a-boyfriend #rei's springtime event

[velvett-tearss]

Cake Day — Jean Kirschtein

prequel to French Wine

summary: Your friends take on the task of planning Connie’s birthday party, only there are a few challenges along the way. Keeping your eyes from staring at Jean happens to be one of them.

warnings: no pronouns mentioned, reader does have hair, cursing, connie is going through a dark time (dont worry, he’s gonna be okay), kissing ;)

genre: fluff, crack

word count: 5.5k bc I am crazy

a/n: no bc i always come back, connie’s bday was a long time ago but this is what i have, literally all of the 104th cadets are mentioned/make an appearance, this is a prequel to French Wine by meeee, hope u enjoy <3

    "Please tell me this isn't actually happening right now."

    "Sasha, it's alright." you say, walking over to where she stands in her Auntie Anne's work uniform with wide eyes. "We can find a new place to host the party, and if not, we can reschedule."

    "No, we can't." Armin admits from his seat on your apartment's brown couch. Everyone winces at the sight of the old thing. "It has to be tomorrow. I already asked everyone to RSVP for tomorrow. We can't just cancel on everyone like that."

    "Why can't we just have it here?" Mikasa suggests calmly, long fingers messing with the hem of her sweater. "We can just put up some birthday decorations and ask Reiner to bring everything else here."

    "No, that won't work. We're always here, and this has to be special. It's Connie's first birthday since..." Sasha loses her words for a moment as she begin spacing around your shared living room. "It's gotta be the best party we've ever thrown. Our apartment has too many bad memories for him.”

    Her words bring silence upon the group. She's right. Every single one of you has seen Connie at his worst, and being there for him on his birthday is the only thing any of you can gift him.

     The plan was to throw him a surprise birthday party at some club downtown, but that proved to be worthless when the owner called a few minutes ago to inform Sasha that there was a leak that managed to mess up the electrics of the building. The owner promised your money back, but it left you without a venue.

    "Whose stupid idea was it to even ask Mina for connections to that place?" Eren demands, walking out of the kitchen with furrowed brows. "Why did we even trust her? Especially after what she did last year."

    "It was yours, genius. And don't tell me you're still upset over her not inviting you to her sorority party." Jean scoffs from beside you. "What about mine and Marco's place?"

    "It's too small and smells like dog all the time." Eren responds easily, to which you raise your brow in amusement. "Sorry, but Marco's mutt is the messiest animal in the world."

    "Jean Paul Marco is a chihuahua, and he is not messy." Jean argues and crosses his arms over his chest. "Sorry, not all of us have renowned doctors as fathers that can pay for maids every other week."

    Eren rolls his eyes and takes a seat beside Armin. A wince is heard from everybody once again. "I'm sorry, aren't you pre-law?"

    "I have an idea." you announce before the two idiots start bickering over meaningless shit. "Why don't we ask Historia to host it? Her apartment is big enough for everybody to fit in, and you know she loves hosting events. There's no way she'll say no."

    "That might work." Armin says after a few moments of thinking, turning over to where Sasha stands. "I'll talk to her about the details. Ymir and Annie won't mind either."

    "And Reiner and Bertholdt can bring the rest of the booze over to their place." Mikasa explains with an assuring nod that seems to quell everyone's nerves. "Eren and I will spread the word about the change in location."

    "And the rest of us can take care of the party decorations and cake." Jean finishes off with a grin, glancing at you meaningfully. "We got this."

    The brunette lets out a relieved laugh. "Alright, this might actually work." she breathes with a smile. "All I gotta do is keep him distracted."

    "Keep who distracted?"

    Everyone's eyes shoot to where a freshly-showered Connie stands in the hallway, clad in plaid pajama pants and a red DC Comics shirt.

    "I'm helping Sasha get the neighbor's number." you lie quickly, walking over to put your hands on the woman's shoulders. "I told her if she wore that one shirt with the lace, he would totally get distracted."

    "Ah, the cheetah print one?" Connie questions with an approving nod. He walks past Armin's flushed state and into the kitchen in search of dinner. "Yeah, but isn't he a chef or something?"

     You exchange a glance with Jean, who offers you a shrug.

    "What does him being a chef have to do with anything?" Mikasa asks, glancing over to where Sasha stands with a red face.

    "Nothing. I'm just saying that he's a chef."

    "Then why'd you say but?" Eren questions with a confused face.

    Connie peaks his head out of the refrigerator, mirroring Eren’s expression. "Because he's a chef?"

    "That isn't correct grammar." Armin sputters out, turning to where Connie is. "It would be better to say and he's a chef."

    "Yet you understood what I was trying to say, didn't you?"

    "Yes, but—"

    "And what's the problem then?"

    "So," Mikasa says with a bored expression on her pale face. "You would say so what's the problem then?"

     Connie lets out a scoff as he makes himself a bowl of cereal. Him and Eren start talking about some soccer game that aired last night, and the topic of his surprise birthday party is long forgotten.

     "Would you stop freaking out?" Jean orders, golden eyes wide at you. He's holding the end of the orange balloon in a tight grip, tying it to keep the air from gushing out. "You're making me freak out."

"Sorry. I'm just nervous." you apologize, frowning as you tie your own white balloon. "And on the verge of passing out. Tell me why we got stuck with blowing the balloons again?"

Jean grabs another balloon to fill up. "I know. Why didn't we just buy one of those air tanks for this? I would've brought one if I knew we still had to make more of these shits."

A snicker echoes from the hallway.

"I thought you guys were good with your mouths? Isn't that what you always say?" Reiner chuckles, walking through the living room with a white box in his beefy arms.

You scowl and grab another balloon to... blow. The thought of tossing a balloon at him crosses your mind quickly, but you know it would only waste your time. Plus, it looks as if he is carrying the cake.

"You've been carrying platters of food the entire time we've been here like some busboy while we've been giving our all, including our oxygen, to make this party come to life."

Reiner lets out a hearty laugh, ignoring Jean's chatter. "Historia only sent the two of you here to get you to shut up for once." he confesses, but you know it's a lie.

The guy next to you makes a faux scowl, watching as the blond disappears into the kitchen where the cake would be kept for the time being along with the other plates of food.

Your eyes scan over Historia's apartment. There are white and orange balloons and confetti scattered over the counter and her rosy coffee table. Earlier, Mikasa set up an extra table where all the beverages (mostly booze) sit. And Marco claimed to know someone who made the best cakes in town.

"I mean, not to be that person, but is this the best idea?" you question softly, throwing a raised brow at Jean. He purses his lips, giving you a knowing look. "I just wonder if Connie's in the mood for surprises."

He nods, eyes scanning to make sure Reiner is still occupied in the kitchen. "Sasha says it'll be good for him, but you know how over the top Historia gets when it comes to birthday parties." he mumbles back.

"You can say that again. I mean, haven't we learned enough from surprising our friends?" you ask as the the two of you recall when Historia threw Mikasa a surprise birthday party two years ago. That event only led you to learn two things: Mikasa hates surprises, and her right hook is amazing. "We're lucky it was Eren who took the hit."

Jean nods knowingly. "I think this will either result in everyone having a nice time and getting shit-faced, or we all might have a crying session after this."

     You snort, raising a brow. "Let's just hope it's the former, then."

"What do you think about it?" Jean asks, glancing at you before starting to fill his balloon. "I mean, Connie's been living with you and Sasha for — what? — six months? You guys probably know how he'll react."

It's a tough question to answer. Hell, everything about the situation is tough. Is Connie in the right headspace to be thrown a birthday party? His first birthday after all that he's gone through in the past year?

     "I don't know. I've never seen someone like him go through something like this." you reply in between breaths as you fill your balloon. "I think celebrating his birthday with friends will do him good, but a surprise party?"

     Jean nods in agreement. "Yeah. Didn't he say he wanted to keep his birthday small?"

     "Yeah, but Sasha thinks it's a lie." you reply.

     "That's what Marco said."

     "And when has Marco ever been wrong?"

     "He has his moments." he states with a shrug and slight grin playing on his lips. "But there's no point in questioning what's already been scheduled. If Connie hates it, which I hope isn't the case, at least we'll know we tried."

     You nod, tying your balloon. "On another note, I heard Mina's bringing some guy from her nursing class."

     Jean raises a brow, as if this is the first time he's hearing such a thing. "She's coming? And Eren's not losing his shit?"

     You laugh. "Armin said that Historia insisted that we invited Mina — to show it's all water under the bridge and all." you answer, looking for another balloon to fill. "But it was Ymir who told me she was bringing Thomas."

     "Hmm," he hums. "At least someone's getting laid tonight."

     "Have you seen Armin and Annie?" you ask with an incredulous laugh. "There's no way they aren't going out."

     "Annie? With Armin? Please." Jean asks, surprised. "She looks like she could tear his head off. Shit, I'm even afraid of being alone in the same room as her."

     You laugh at his exaggeration, and he joins in. The two of you know Annie's the definition of someone who could and would kill you, but you all know very well how much of a softie she's become for the group.

     This is what you like about Jean. He's the only person you can manage to have an intellectual conversation with (if discussing your friends' business is considered intellectual). It's not hard to bounce off ideas with him, as well as laugh with each other.

     Eren likes to poke fun at you and say you like spending time with Jean so much because he's got a nice face, but that's not true. Jean's handsome face has nothing to do with how much you enjoy his company.

     Totally.

     "What about you?" he asks suddenly.

     You sigh, lightheaded from blowing into balloons and laughing. "What about me?"

     "Who are you bringing tonight?"

     "I think I should be the one asking you that question." you reply with instead of answering. "Last time I checked, you were dating that chick from your study group."

     "She was just a friend." Jean says easily, watching you. "And that was a long time ago. Haven't talked to her in a few weeks."

     "What about that chick from Marco's study group?"

     "Also a friend."

     "And from Armin's study group?" you hum, avoiding his golden gaze. "Or was she a friend too?"

     "If I'd known you were so interested in my love life, I would've made more of a show out of it." Jean scoffs, joking, and you smack him. "But, yes, they were all friends. At least they are now."

     You nod, hiding your grin. "Oh, so that means you've got your sight set on someone new?"

     "It means I'm currently unattached." he explains with a sense of finality. The smirk on his face grows because he's an idiot. "Why? Who's asking?"

     "If this is your way of asking if I have any single friends, you're sorely mistaken because there is no way I am letting you and your dick near them."

     Jean laughs, but that doesn't stop his next words to lack in seriousness. "I don't want to know if your friends are single."

     "Good." you say, an immense feeling of relief washing over you like an icy bucket of water on a hot day. "'Cause I can assure none of them want to date you."

     "Good, because I don't want to date them either."

     You smile, but it falls quickly. "Should I be offended you don't want to date my friends?"

     "No, you should feel sorry for them." he answers, looking down at his balloon before bouncing against the top of your head. "They'll never get never have a chance to blow balloons with me, let alone date me."

     "Right," You swat his hands away from your body as the orange balloon bounces somewhere on the floor. "Because the pipeline from blowing balloons with you to dating you is totally possible."

     "Do you want it to be?"

     You snap your head to look at him. A fire spreads across your body.

You can't say this is something you were expecting, especially not when you're wearing one of Connie's cartoon shirts. You're about to come back with something that you hope will have him burning, but Historia bursts out of the kitchen with two triangles of concealer under her eyes and hot pink rollers in her blonde hair.

      "What the hell are the two of you still doing here?" she cries, blue eyes widened at your flushed face. "Go home and get ready before Sasha and Connie arrive!"

     You're shocked to see her in such a panic. "Hisu, we still have enough time to finish up and get ready. It's only six right now."

     "It's six?!" Jean cries in a panicked state, searching his pockets for his phone frantically. "Holy shit, why didn't you say anything sooner?! Where's Marco?"

     "Everyone's gone, Jean. They left through the back door to not mess up the decorations in front." Historia says, grabbing the both of you by your wrists and dragging you to her backyard. "See, this is exactly why I told Armin we shouldn't put the two of you together without supervision. You guys always get carried away!"

     Your cheeks burn at her words as you drive home, hands gripping the wheel so tight your knuckles turn white.

     "It was entirely your fault." is the first thing Jean says as the two of you race to Historia's back door.

     "My fault? I had no idea Connie and Sasha would show up at seven! Eren said they wouldn't arrive until eight!" you hiss back, hands reaching to unlock the wooden door that led to the backyard. "If anything, it's your fault. You knew exactly what time they would come, and you still got carried away."

     "Why would you listen to Eren? The guy can barely differentiate left from right." Jean throws back with ease, swatting your hands away from the door handle. He unlocks it without any difficulty, which you scowl at him for. "And I couldn't pay attention to the time with you distracting me!"

     "Oh, I'm sorry watching me blow balloons in Connie's Super Mario Bros. shirt is distracting." you scoff as the two of you rush into Historia's brightly-lit backyard.

You have to admit that your friends have truly outdone themselves. When you suggested Historia's, Ymir's, and Annie's shared apartment as the location for Connie's birthday party, you weren't expecting them to turn the place into such an amazing event.

The backyard is decorated in lightbulb strings hanging across the thick trees to illuminate the round tables draped in white coverings to give a sense of class to the event. It carries the same weight as an actual event thrown by a professional party planner.

It has Historia written all over it.

"Where have the two of you been?" Annie demands as she opens the sliding glass door for the two of you. She's wearing a baby blue dress that brings out the color of her eyes. "Don't look at me like that."

Your eyes jump to hers as you step in. "What?"

"I can hear your thoughts." she hisses, cheeks burning bright red. "I don't own anything that isn't a neutral color. Historia said I should wear this. End of story."

"You look nice." Jean grins, nodding at her dress. "I've never seen you put this much effort into your appearance. Hah, you're even wearing eyeliner."

Annie's narrows her eyes at him before turning around and waking back into the kitchen to hide from any more comments about her appearance. You don't miss the embarrassed flush of her cheeks.

"Jean," you whine, smacking his shoulder.

His brows furrow as the two of you walk around to inspect the apartment. "What did I do now?"

"You shouldn't have made such a big deal about the dress."

"I didn't say anything about the dress. That was you, actually." Jean corrects as the two of you stop by the table of beverages. "I only commented on the eyeliner she was wearing."

You scowl but pour a drink for each of you.

"She should get used to compliments if she wants to date Armin. He's always got something sweet to say." he adds. A grin grazes his lips when you hand him his cup. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with spending time to look nice."

You take a sip of your drink, letting the liquid burn your throat. "Of course you would say that. You spend a ridiculous amount of time doing your hair."

"But it looks nice, doesn't it?"

You hate it because he's right. His light brown hair resembles that of the caramels of the the earthy hues, and it looks best under the light of the apartment's lighting.

Lying is a wrong, so you turn away.

     Jean leans against table. His gaze creates fire across your skin. You can barely process anything with the subtle aroma of his cologne blinding your ability to think. You suddenly feel more exposed to him than you've ever felt in the past years you've known him. Why is he staring longer than usual? Why now?

     "Oh my gosh," you breathe, suddenly very horrified. "Do I have something on my face?"

     "No!" he laughs loudly, reaching a hand out to calm you down. "No, you have nothing on your face."

     That grants you little relief. "Then why are you staring? It's scaring me."

     He shakes his head, smiling like you've created the sun with just your hands. "You're perfect."

A breath gets caught in your throat. You weren't expecting him to say something along the lines of You're perfect, especially not with so much conviction. His words replay in your head, looping through your mind as the two of you gape at each other with a slight tension in the air it makes it difficult to breathe.

     There's a distorted beep from outside the apartment, which causes everyone in the area to stiffen. You all know that noise to belong to Sasha's old sedan the same color as shit-brown. In a flurry of freckles, Marco appears out of thin air and tugs you and Jean by your wrists to get close enough to the front door without being seen.

     Everyone's shuffling around as quickly and quietly as they can. You bump into Mina and Thomas with so much force, the air in your lungs dissipates, and you think it's Eren who mutters out a string of apologies for stepping on your foot.

Once everyone is in their places, Ymir orders shut your mouths, or I'll scream. Maybe it's because you're squished between Reiner's arm that leaves room for no air at all and Jean's intoxicating cologne, or maybe you just manage to get an unflattering angle of the freckled woman, but you find everything in the moment hilarious.

     You left out the most silent chuckle you can muster, but it's still too loud from the way Ymir gives you the side eye. Her expression only make you want to laugh even more.

     A hand comes from behind you and clasps itself over your mouth. You'd be alarmed if you didn't know the only thing separating you from the wall is Jean.

     "Be quiet," he murmurs into your ear. His voice sends a multitude of shivers down your spine. You find no humor in how quickly you wish to obey. "Or she'll slap the shit out of you, and I'll laugh."

     You elbow his stomach, but there's little power to it.

Once your fit of laughter has disappeared and shows no signs of coming back, his hand leaves your mouth, but he remains close to you, hand finding purchase on your shoulder, close to the nape of your neck. Like clockwork, the fire he brings along with him ignites across your body. You hate that he does this to you without thinking of the consequences. Doesn't he realize how much he affects you?

You don't have time to think much of Jean intentions, for the front door which was left unlocked is slowly pushed open. Everyone holds their breaths, waiting for the right moment.

But it never comes. You hear voice whispering on the other side of the door.

"Oh my gosh," Connie's voice comes out in a terrified tone. "Sasha, the door is unlocked. What the fuck? What if they got robbed? What if—"

"Then we oughta check on them!" she replies back quickly. "Connie, just open the door!"

"What? No! Why me?!" he says immediately. "We should call them to make sure they're alright."

"Constantine, if you don't—"

"That's not my name!"

Jean stifles a laugh from behind you. It sends goosebumps across your body. He takes note of them, so runs his hand down your arm as if to soothe you.

You hear a groan from Sasha, and quick stomps come close to the door once again. There's enough light from the moon for you to see her stand in the entrance of the living room, but not enough for her to see you.

The light remains off. "Look," she orders, holding her hand out to the dark, yet safe, emptiness of the apartment. "No one is here."

"Fine, you win." Connie sighs and walks into the apartment, closing the door behind him. "But if some crazy guy jumps out and starts robbing us, you're giving him your earrings."

Sasha grins, walking past the threshold to get the light and send the signal. "Just hurry up, so I can change my shoes."

"I thought you said you wanted to change your shirt."

     The brunette reaches the light switch and flicks it before he can ask any further questions.

     "Surprise!"

     Much to your delight (and surprise), the party ends up successful as ever. Everyone owes an apology for doubting Sasha. She knew a surprise party was just what Connie needed, and you have to give credit where's it's due.

     You just wish she would shut up about it.

     "And I was just trying to getcha to stop freaking out and come inside," Sasha guffaws as she retells the story, as if everyone wasn't there. Her face is red from amusement and the alcohol in her system. "I was shitting myself!"

     Connie's laughter is amplified at her words, nearly doubling over from his laughter. "I- I thought we were going to get kidnapped, and all you could talk about was your shoes!"

     Their version of the story is hilarious, and just hearing their laughter brings smiles on everyone's face, but it's the 16th rendition they've told in the past hour.

     And it's getting old.

So after listening to the wheezing laughter and slurred jokes from Connie and Sasha, you decide to find refuge in the kitchen.

It's a mess when you walk in — plates of half-eaten cake, bottles and bottles and more bottles of alcohol, and even more napkins are littered across the kitchen counter.

You pour yourself a glass of Annie's most treasured wine (because you know she won't mind, not if it's you) and begin cleaning as best you can.

Most of the items are paper plates and plastics utensils and cups, but the rest go into the kitchen sink. Decidedly, you choose not to go near the dirty dishes if your life depended on it. Instead, you settle on letting them soak with a few dollops of dish soap.

"There you are."

Jean finds you sitting atop the counter beside the kitchen sink, sipping away at your wine. He's got a boyish grin on his pink face as he walks toward you; you blame the alcohol. "I was looking for you." he says.

"Were you?" you hum, curious. "I've been here."

"Cleaning?" he questions, golden eyes gazing around the kitchen. It's much better than before, but the stacked dishes in the sink lessen the shine.

     Of course, his eyes stay on them.

     "I was going to get to that later," you say, the sudden need to explain rising out of your throat. He walks over to them, watching the bubbles fizz. "I just hate doing dishes."

     Jean doesn't care. He turns the faucet on and submerges his hands into the sink.

     "You don't have to—"

     "Oh, I don't mind." he informs you with a light shrug as he begins washing the many, many plates and bowls and forks. "Marco does the restrooms, and I do dishes."

     An image of Jean doing dishes after breakfast, still in his pajama bottoms (because you know he doesn't wear a shirt to bed), with a serious case of bed head and a sleepy face pops into your head.

      You just nod, letting silence fill the room aside from the sound of running water. The silence gives you enough time to observe Jean as he works.

His jaw appears even sharper without the stubble he had earlier. He must've shaven when he got home. You can't help but notice the curl of his lashes and the perfect nose he seems to have. His hair, as always, is styled to your definition of perfection. You twitch with the sudden urge to run your hands through his hair.

He's beautiful, you think. He always has been. There's never been a moment in your day that you've thought otherwise. You couldn't deny such a fact the day Eren introduced the two of you during freshman year, and you can't deny it now.

"You know," Jean begins, grinning as he looks to where you sit. "I'd suggest for you to take a picture, but I like having you stare at me."

You roll your eyes. "Get over yourself. I was not staring at you. I was just wondering how disgusting you must be to like doing the dishes."

"Have you never washed dishes before?" he asks with a laugh.

"Of course I've washed dishes, Jean, but that doesn't mean I like it."

"So? Doing them doesn't mean you like it." he replies as he washes what you assume is the last fork. "But I had to get away from whatever the hell Sasha was doing on the dance floor." He shuts the sink off and uses a rag to dry his hands. The left over bubbles begin to fizz out on their own.

"Last I checked, she was retelling a story we were all there for." you reply, amused.

He laughs, and suddenly he's so much closer to you than before. "Connie and Historia dragged Sasha to the dance floor, and you know how disoriented she gets when she drinks."

     You raise your brows, setting your plastic cup of Annie's wine beside you. "Oh no," you breathe, holding back your laughter. "Don't tell me she took her pants off."

     "She took her pants off." Jean confirms.

     "Oh my gosh," you groan, heat rushing to your face at the thought of your roommate dancing like a headless chicken with no pants. "Did someone stop her?"

     Jean nods, grinning at the memory. "Mikasa took her into Historia's room before anyone who isn't us could get a peak."

You make note of his subconscious groupings: you, him, your close-knit circle of friends, and then everyone else. You like it. You've never had friends like you do now, and you probably will never get the chance again. To him, you don't exaggerate over his word choice. You act natural, as if his words don't phase you at all.

     But to you, it means the world.

"Sasha's happiest when she's being nurtured, and Mikasa's happiest when nurturing." you say instead, nodding. "I'm glad everyone is enjoying themselves."

"Me too," Jean agrees, grinning at you. It's dazzling, as always, and spurs a grin of your own to paint itself on your face. If anyone were to walk into the kitchen right now, they would find two idiots staring at each other with big smiles on their faces. You don't think you would mind, not if it's with him.

"You shouldn't tell the others, but you're my favorite." he admits, setting his hand on your knee. The weight of his words (and his hand) make your cheeks burn. "Don't let it get to your head, though.” he warns, reaching up to brush your stray hairs away from your face. “It’s already huge enough."

"My head is not huge." you correct quickly, swatting his hand from your face. You choose to ignore the one on your knee and leave it there. "Your head is huge, and I know it is because you've got all that hair covering it up." You bring your hands to his hair and reveal his perfectly normal forehead. "See? Look at your big ass forehead!"

Jean scoffs at your antics and takes this opportunity to poke at your sides, coaxing a laugh out of you. He does it again and again, your laughter spilling out of your mouth and filling the kitchen with the sound. You manage tickle him back, and his laughter joins yours in the kitchen.

Before you know it, a truce has been declared and you can barely breathe with how close he is. You don't know when his hand managed to move from your knee to up your mid-thigh.

     You place your hand over his. "Jean," you whisper softly, moving his hand higher, closer. You act without thinking. "You're my favorite, too."

     This is as far as you'll go. You won't risk your friendship for your selfishness and stupidity. If he doesn't get the hint now, he won't ever.

     You know your mind isn't playing tricks on your when he starts inching even closer. Your heart races agaisnt your chest as you watch his eyes flutter shut, and you know it's coming.

     It feels like everything around you has slowed into a quiet hum. The only thing you can focus on is Jean, Jean, Jean. His eyes, his hands, his lips. You've fantasized about a time where you actually had a shot with him, but you weren't expecting this. You weren't expecting him to actually want you back.

     His lips brush your tentatively, slowly, giving you enough time to pull away and stop this at any given moment. When you don't, when you open your mouth and allow him further access, when you show him you want him just as much, his hand leaves your hip and travels in search of yours. He brings your palm to his chest, right where his heart is. You don't notice it at first, but suddenly you feel it.

     The plundering of his racing heart against his chest. It makes your hands curl into his hair so deliciously, he lets out a groan. Something has changed. His kisses grow deeper, desperate. It's intense and intimate and something you've never felt before.

     You hear a door open and stumbling footsteps come closer. Like clockwork, Jean pulls away from you and switches on the kitchen faucet, submerging his hands into the leftover bubbles. You bring your almost-forgotten cup of wine back to your lips, attempting to hide the smile on your face.

"Ah! It's you guys!" Connie giggles, stumbling into the kitchen. His cheeks are tinted a rosy color from the alcohol and the spring heat. Jean shuts the water off and dries his hands with a dishcloth. "I'm having so much fun, you guys. I've had way too much to drink."

     He shuffles over to where you and Jean are, putting his hand on the man's shoulder. "I'm just having a really nice time, and I'm, like, so blessed right now. I mean, you guys know what I'm saying, right?" the drunk man continues. Tears begin falling from his eyes. "There is so much pain in the world, but not in this room."

He begins full-on sobbing against Jean's body. "And I never thought we would be here, you know? But, like, it's just so hot outside, and I figured it would be nice to stretch my legs out, you know?" Connie sobs, gasping for breath as he wipes his tears and snot on Jean's dress shirt. "You know, everyone, like, they have a person who fits them, that's made for them, you know? And, like, it's so beautiful."

Jean chuckles at his friend, wrapping a consoling arm around him. "Yeah, man," He exchanges a glance with you. His cheeks are still tinted pink and his smile hasn't left left his face since your lips did. "It is."

#ahhh #happy belated birthday Connie #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein x y/n #jean kirsten x you #jean kirsten x reader #jean kirsten x y/n #jean kirschstein headcanons #jean kirschtein fluff #jean kirschstein #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan hcs #jean kirstein x y/n #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x reader

[certifiedjaeger]

For your prompts, may I get, "wanna bet?" With my hubby Jean? 😭❤

♡ certifiedjaeger’s 800 event ♡

Character: Jean Kirschtein x fem!reader

Prompt: “Wanna bet?”

Word Count: 2K

A/N: okay listen….hear me out……you said hubby and I took that literally 😌💕 so here is dad!jean (also your husband 🤤) being cute with your baby!! he’s so sweet, I actually need to scream to someone about it (this is pure fluff, enjoy!)

Even Masterlist

“Okay, come on. Hand her over.”

You stand in front of your husband–with arms outstretched and your smile wide as ever–beckoning him to relinquish the protective hold he has on your fourteen-month-old.

“You want to see mommy, sweet pea?” Jean sweetly asks his daughter as she excitedly begins to babble at your familiar form appearing in the small nursery that she and him had just been playing in. He watches the tinier version of you in his arms with a content smile; staring down at her as she stretches her little hands out to you. A quiet chuckle leaves his lips and he decides to happily oblige both of your requests; standing up to place his daughter in your arms and watching his two favorite girls with a particularly sweet expression on his face.

“See, she’s definitely a mommy’s girl,” you sound triumphant as you smirk at Jean, putting your little one on your hip and bobbing her up and down a bit as she erupts into a fit of giggles.

“Oh?” He raises a brow. “I don’t know… she does like me quite a bit,” Jean boasts lightheartedly, looking a bit smug as the words leave his lips. You give him a playful side eye, making a small tch noise as you do so. You know that your daughter is sort of… okay, scratch that– you know that your daughter is completely obsessed with him. But a little teasing never hurt anybody…

“No, no… she definitely likes me more,” you gloat in a joking manner. “She loves her mommy, doesn’t she?” You speak directly to her now in an overly sweet and excited tone, smiling widely at her as she mimics your huge grin, “You love your mommy, don’t you?”

You hear Jean snort at your more than obvious attempt of getting your daughter to somehow agree with you and pick you over him. He thinks it’s cute, however. He actually loves it, he decides– How playful you are with both of them. How sweet your teasing is. You hear him let out another small, content sigh as he comes up behind you and laces his arms around your waist, looking over your shoulder at his little one in your arms.

“Well… I guess that makes two of us,” he lowers his head to give your shoulder a gentle kiss, watching as your little mini-me instantly finds his eyes; a huge grin spreading on her face as she starts giggling.

“Hey, no fair– that’s cheating” you whine, slightly pouting as you nudge him away playfully. “You’re distracting her… come on, let her spend time with her favorite,” you say as you hold her tight to your chest, hearing her giggles get a bit louder now as you try to hide her from her dad.

“Her favorite?” He replies in an amused tone. With brows raised, he leans to the side and instantly finds your beautiful familiar face; small giggles leaving your lips that are almost too hard to hear over his daughter’s louder ones. He stares down at you through narrowed eyes, a small smile gracing his lips as he cheekily pinches your side.

“Hey!” The small yelp you let out mixes in with your laughter as you scold him, turning around in his grip to properly face him now. “And yes! I carried her around for nine months and had to give birth to her–” you quiet your laughter, doing your best to sound serious (but failing) as you raise a brow at him, “...so I better be her favorite.”

Another snort escapes him at your slightly threatening tone; his low, amused chuckling filling your ears as he strokes your cheek lovingly, his eyes twinkling with a bit of mischief now as they stare down at you. The little one in your arms instantly reaches out to him; her little arms stretching as far as they can manage, trying her absolute best to get to her daddy as her excited noises begin to fill the space between you two.

“Hm,” his face softens as he lets his daughter hold onto one of his fingers; her tiny fist wrapping around the much larger digit, causing his heart to ache in his chest from how tiny she was. “Sorry to say it, babe– But I think she’s definitely a daddy’s girl,” he muses playfully.

“Oh?” You raise a brow before narrowing your eyes, “Wanna bet?”

Jean raises his eyes to yours, the little competitive smile you give him only makes that warm and welcoming ache in his chest grow. A smile comes to his own lips now, only it isn’t competitive. No, it’s completely smug as he teases you, tracing one of his fingers from his unoccupied hand down your arm, enjoying the sight of your brows furrowing together in feigned annoyance.

“Baby… I would, but I don’t want you to get sad–”

“Oh my god, you’re infuriating,” you cut him off with an amused smile. The taunting drawl of his arrogant voice and the insinuation that he already knew what the outcome would be of a bet concerning his daughter and which parent she preferred– well, that combination really made you want to prove him wrong. Even if you also knew what the outcome of that bet would be, as well. Even if you knew you stood absolutely no chance in trying to prove him wrong. Because truth be told, your daughter actually is obsessed with him; fully, completely, and wholeheartedly obsessed with her father, loving him with everything she had in that little beating heart of hers. Not that you can exactly blame her… you share similar feelings when it comes to this particular man.

“Okay, how about this, baby,” you let out a quiet giggle at your own teasing remark, leaning up to place a quick peck against his lips before then walking away a couple of feet and placing your daughter gently on the soft carpet. “Let’s see who she crawls to.”

Jean stares across the small distance at you with an expression that says… really? He can’t help but to smile, however, at his daughter already reaching out for him, her excited eyes meeting his own, making him instantly crumble at the adorable sight. “Alright,” he resigns, sitting on the floor and stretching his long legs out, watching as you rush over to sit beside him. “Just don’t be a sore loser when–”

“Oh, shush!” You lightly smack his arm as you start cooing at your daughter and beckoning her over to you. You know it’s a hopeless feat, and yet, you still do your best to fight for your daughter's affection. Meanwhile, Jean just sits there, admiring his little one trying her best to stand up on her wobbly feet. That seems to be the one thing you both can agree on right now: She is simply too adorable. She manages to get up on her feet, falling slightly before then getting back up and reaching her arms out toward your husband; a huge grin plastered on her face while doing so. Her smile is wide as she makes little excited noises, tiny hands grabbing at nothing but air as she clumsily moves forward. Her eyes–the same warm color as her dad’s–seem to be dead set on the one person she excitedly does her best to hurry to– Jean.

And you can’t believe it. Well… you can actually. But you pretend not to, anyways. She reaches her dad and he is just as excited as she is as he picks her up and throws her slightly in the air, catching her in his large hands and quickly hugging her to his chest. Her animated giggles and his proud praises fill your ears as you wear an exaggerated shocked expression on your face, taking in the adorable–only slightly hurtful–sight. 

You had known all along that she would immediately go to him. After all, she loved her dad. That’s not to say that she didn’t love you, of course. (There were even some days where she only wanted to be with you). But there was simply no denying the special connection that those two had. They’ve been partners in crime since the day she was born, true best friends who were equally as obsessed with one another. There was simply no denying that she was indeed a daddy’s girl. Which is why you aren’t upset in the slightest as you watch them together. No, you actually feel grateful for being able to witness something as sweet as the love of your life dote on your little girl; it makes your heart feel warm in your chest to gaze over at your two favorite people and see them love each other so openly. You only wish that you could live in this moment for just a little longer.

However, you still feel the need to tease your sweet husband. Just a little bit more… And if you can’t prove him wrong through a bet–which you failed, if I may add–then you at least want to make him feel a little bad about the end result of said bet. If only for a second, at least.

“What about mommy?” You adorn a pout, staring doe eyed at him and your daughter; feigned sadness covering your face in the hopes of getting some affection from them, as well. The look you give both of them breaks his heart from how adorable he finds it.

Before his daughter was born, he used to think that you were the absolute cutest thing this world had ever created.  However, his daughter had instantly taken that title from you the day she was born (something you wholeheartedly agreed with). And yet, there were still some moments–such as this one–where you really gave her a run for her money.

He instantly leans forward and kisses your pout away. He’s quick to attack your face with little featherlight kisses; placing them eagerly to your cheeks, your nose, your jaw, your lips (again), really anywhere he can manage. He hears his little one giggling to match the soft laughter of her mother’s; the noises filling the small, dim nursery sounding especially sweet to him. He smiles to himself as he places one last kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger slightly before then gently pulling away.

“We love mommy,” he looks down at this daughter. “Mommy’s our favorite person, huh?” He sweetly asks his daughter in an eager tone, watching as her eyes light up as she begins to babble excitedly.

“I don’t know…” your voice drawls skeptically as your face fills with feigned doubt. The corners of your mouth lift into a tiny smile and Jean instantly feels the need to kiss you all over again. His mind only seems to fill with one resounding thought: I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

“I think you were right,” you distract him from his thoughts suddenly. He watches as you look down fondly at your daughter in his arms; nothing but love in your eyes as you let her hold onto your finger. “I think she is a daddy’s girl.”

He lets out a soft huff of a chuckle, leaning forward to capture your lips once more and smiling when you sweetly kiss him back. He pulls away after a second, leaving his lips a millimeter from yours as he whispers against them.

“Well, I guess she takes after her mommy.”

You instantly whip your head back and look at him with an incredulous smile. “Jean!” you scold, lightly smacking his arm as you hear him begin to laugh.

“What? You know it’s true!”

#jean kirschtein #jean kirschtein imagines #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirschtein oneshot #jean kirschtein fic #jean kirschtein fluff #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein x y/n #jean kirschtein x you #aot fluff #attack on titan fluff #aot imagines #attack on titan imagines #aot fic #attack on titan fic #banannie's 800 event <3 #my writing

[soleilnomoon]

intrude ; jean x reader.

4.2k words, fem reader, nsfw - public sex, (slight) degradation, oral (m. receiving), other cute things like profanity, annoying pet names, spanking, hatred, jealousy; jean is a dumbass and a mean bitch. a summary (of sorts): jean jumps to conclusions but refuses to admit it.

fic request for @strawhatsoraya *washes hands* here is your part 2, it's out of my hands now previous ⤹ | next ⤹

morning disrupts your peaceful slumber, your body sluggish and heavy—it feels like you’ve been out for twelve hours. in reality, it’s only been five. you never sleep through the night, but this is the most you’ve slept in ages. when you lift your head, you realize you spent the night in his room, your legs still tangled with his. much too intimate for your liking. you assume he was drunk, or worse—out of his mind, perhaps—and you scramble off of the bed, away from his hold, your cheeks on fire as you put some distance between you. 

tripping over your feet, you manage to get to the door and bolt out of the room as quickly as you can. you bump into the other members of your squad, ignoring their questions, not wanting to think about him or anything related to him right now. you’re a little peeved, but you try to keep that to a minimum, not wanting to take out your frustrations on anyone that doesn’t deserve your wrath. even as you shower, your mood never lifts; you replay the events from last night over and over, wondering what possessed you.

maybe it was residual fatigue from getting lost far from the village? or maybe, it just felt nice to be held like that. you’re not sure; but what you are sure of, is that you will never, ever make that mistake twice.

you scrub your skin raw, needing to feel something other than the uneasiness that swells in your stomach, making you jittery and nervous throughout the morning. after accidentally bumping into armin, the stack of ceramic plates in his hands slip, falling one by one onto the floor. they shatter on impact, the hardwood flooring littered with bits and pieces of the shiny, glazed plates—sharp, ready to dig into anyone that bothers to clean it up.

levi’s words are severe, unrelenting as he berates you all day long for your clumsiness. you blame jean. it’s his fault, he always distracts you; and now you’re on levi’s shit list, which is the worst place to be these days. he’s always irate, as if he has a chip on his shoulder—and you might be imagining things, but you notice his annoyance seems to intensify whenever he leaves out of erwin’s office.

not that it’s any of your business, anyway.

you’ve got bigger fish to fry. 

it’s late in the afternoon when he finally runs into you. jean peers down at you, a scowl on his face, displeasure etched into every line; eyebrow twitching, sneering as he gets in your face. “cute trick,” he says, jaw clenching once the words leave his mouth.

confusion wrapped in annoyance swirls around your body. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you don’t like his tone, the way his ocher eyes take in your entire body, or the accompanying shiver that shoots through you like a meteor. 

jean scoffs at you maliciously, unimpressed by the way you’re pretending to not remember. “your disappearing act.” his nonchalance slaps at you repeatedly, it shouldn’t affect you but it does. badly. “couldn’t wait to get away from me, huh?” his voice drops to a whisper, but his words still carve themselves inside of you; you clench your teeth so hard, suffering under his menacing aura—the one that he hides from the world until he snaps.

you take a tentative step backwards and then realize, belatedly, that he has you cornered. the hallway is dim enough to , untouched by open windows or artificial lighting. your back touches the wall, hands trembling as you ball them into fists—hoping to calm down fast enough to think of an escape plan. you don’t know why you’re nervous, you’ve been around him more times than you could ever count. but something about his demeanor, about the way he crowds your space, the forceful way he slams his hands on either side of your head, the sound thundering in your ears, making it difficult to focus; something about that flips a switch inside of you.

it’s baffling, to say the least, but you won’t back down—you can’t, your pride is on the line.

when you look up, all he sees is defiance; and for some reason, it makes him want to stamp it out of you. “well?”  he taunts, dark brow raising afterward.

your tongue darts out, moistening your lips; you need to think fast. jean isn’t the sort to get fooled easily, so you fix your expression, and opt for a bored look instead. “you’re boring me, can you hurry it up?” you hope that he buys that, and that he doesn’t see through your flimsy façade—or see the way your thighs press together subtly. this is too much, even for you.

you needed to get away; why haven’t you gotten away yet?

for a moment, jean says nothing—a little stunned that you said that—but when it clicks for him, all he can do is smile slyly. that stupid butterfly in your chest multiplies two, the wings flapping around and stirring up your anxiety. you inhale deeply, taking in his scent and regretting it immediately. you wish he smelled bad so you could find a reason to tell him off. but he doesn’t. all you want to do is press closer and—

no. you refrain from doing any of that, face steeled as you feign mild annoyance—going so far as to purse your lips. but jean sees through all of that; the false bravado, the aloofness, the restraint. he almost pities you, almost wants to tell you that you don’t have to keep trying because nothing you do is working. but he doesn’t. 

his silence is somehow more intense than you thought it would be, and loud. so, so loud. “can you move? i need to find eren.” as soon as the name leaves your mouth, you regret it. it was unintentional on your part—you just said the first name that popped into your head, but the damage is done. irreparable. jean’s eyes narrow harshly at your words, a dark cloud hovering over him; he pulls his hand off of the wall, grips your throat tightly, rough fingers pressing into your skin. the pain is practically nonexistent, almost as if you’ve wanted this very scenario to happen to you. as your lips part, your eyelids flutter and prevent any attempt you make to stay coherent.

“it would be eren, wouldn’t it?” he knows he should let you go and should probably think a little more before speaking, but he won’t—he’s so damn irritated and aroused that he doesn’t know how to handle it. “answer me,” he demands roughly, thumb pressing hard on a particular spot, causing you to let out a startled moan. the sound has his cock straining against his pants, erection thick as it presses against you.

you’re a little lightheaded from the way he’s holding you against the wall, but he releases you suddenly and you take another deep breath, heart pounding much too loudly in your chest for it to be considered normal. “it’s actually none of your business, jean.” you tilt your head up so you can glare at him properly. “i can talk to whoever the fuck i want, whenever the fuck i want. got it?” you hope that’ll be enough to deter him, enough to make him leave you behind and seek out another—the thought of that brings a sour taste to the back of your throat. you don’t bother unpacking that at all.

all the while, jean watches you carefully, a quiet anger pouring out of him, the waves nearly knocking you over; your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you consider your options. there aren’t many, and you don’t know if they’ll work, but you’ll try anything. you’re a little lost in thought, so you let out a genuine whimper when he grabs your chin roughly and yanks your lip free. “i swear, all you know how to do is run your fucking mouth.” you blink stupidly at him, all of your thoughts coming to a halt. “don’t bother denying it,” he says when you try to speak again, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, your fingers digging into his shirt, “keep fucking talking.” his breath is a welcomed warmth against your skin, your hips moving forward, lightly making contact with the bulge in his pants. “by the time i’m done with you, you’ll be too tired to move your mouth.”

something about his words felt like a devious promise that he’s threatening you with; you should slap him for it, maybe even break his arm, anything. jean licks the spot right underneath your earlobe and you inhale sharply; this shouldn’t happen, you don’t even understand how you let yourself get into this mess. but here you are, panting in the back of a hallway, a dull ache making its way to your abdomen, the front of your panties dampening as a result. when he ruthlessly sucks on your skin, you clench your thighs together and swallow back a moan. 

absolutely impossible. if he ever finds out, you’ll never hear the end of it.

admiring the mark he left behind with a smirk, he allows his hands to travel along your curves until they glide around and grab your ass. he’s wanted to do that for so, so long, and now that he’s had his chance, he wants to do it again. “tell me,” he says once his lips brush against yours, “why eren?” your breathing turns shallow and you make one last ditch attempt at saving yourself. 

you push against his chest, irritation bubbling underneath your skin when he doesn’t budge. “like i said previously,” you say with as much venom as you can muster, “i can talk to whoever the fuck i want. you don’t have a say in that.” it’s infuriating having to repeat yourself; jean’s behavior should alarm you—scare you, even—and maybe it does, but you’re also someone who doesn’t know when to stop.

you’re also a big fan of taking risky gambles.

he grabs your face, fingers digging into your skin harshly; you claw at his arms as he brings your mouth close to his. “that’s the thing, bunny,” he says before biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. you slap a hand on his chest, and he laughs viciously at your half-hearted attempt. the nickname drives you up the walls—he knows that, it’s why he’s using it. you hate him a little more because of that. “i’m gonna ruin you,” he says a little louder, his hand sliding down so he can caress your face, “so that the only name you’ll remember is mine.”

jean runs his tongue along your bleeding lip, the sting tolerable as he laps it all up; when he finally kisses you, his tongue lunges unexpectedly into your mouth—he swallows your surprise, all of your irritation, and each moan that follows. that familiar, coppery taste compels you to let him have his way just this once. drowning pathetically in his openmouthed kisses, your body growing hot, the desire suddenly too much for you. his cock throbs from neglect, the erection making him erratic and nonsensical. it’s all very thrilling, and you’re so pliant it almost feels unreal.

pulling away from you is difficult, but he manages just fine. his fingers sift through your hair, tangling around your curls and pulling on it to get your attention. 

“kneel.” 

he gives you a bit of room and you sink to your knees in front of him; you don’t know why you’re listening, but it’s almost as if you’re a marionette—he pulls on your strings with a sharp elegance, making your throat dry quickly. you undo his pants, tugging down with his underwear, watching as they slide down his hips and eventually pool around his ankles. his cock is impressive, a large bead of precum dripping out of his slit, the thickness of the head calling out to you devilishly.

you look up at him, a little demure, but mostly excited—although you’re not sure if it’ll fit in your mouth. jean grabs your hair again. 

“open.”

his husky voice sends a shockwave through your body, his tone and cadence dark, yet alluring. your lips part and once you open your mouth wider, he shoves his cock inside with a single, reckless thrust. you gag, hands flying to his thighs, nails sinking into his skin, making him hiss but the pleasure overrides the bit of pain. your eyes threaten to close as he starts moving his hips, cock quickly sliding in and out of your mouth. you relax your jaw, opening your throat to accommodate for his length. he yanks on your hair, eyes wild with lust, drool dribbling onto your chin. “open your fucking eyes, don’t you dare try to run from me.” 

again, he’s saying impossible things. it’s not that you want to run, it’s that your pussy is so wet you’re going to explode at any moment. he pulls out of you and you use your hands to stroke him immediately, twisting and turning around his length, enjoying the deep groans that drift out of his mouth. you run your tongue flat against the head of his cock, licking his precum, and moan when you start sucking on his tip. “fuck…,” he bites down onto his lip, cursing again under his breath. “this is turning you on, isn’t it?” he asks, his mind in a haze, voice low; the way you’re just taking him in that pretty little mouth of yours pushes him dangerously to the edge. 

“wonder what i’ll find if you pull down your pants, hm?” 

as your eyes widen at him, you remind yourself how much you fucking hate, hate, hate him right now. your expression is priceless; it’s exactly what he’s been waiting for. you try so hard to dislike him, but he knows the truth; has known for some time, but it’s great that he gets to witness your silent confession.

“ohh,” he drawls before cooing at you wickedly, “pretty bunny, don’t you wanna show me how much you’re enjoying yourself?” there’s nothing gentle or sweet about what he’s asking you. “or,” and his expression changes to something dark, possessive even as he pulls your head back, his grip on your hair tight enough to make you wince, “is that something you’re saving to show eren later?” the idea sinks its claws into his mind, making him too stupid to see reason. you want to roll your eyes, but you’re pissed off too. his cock is still standing firm, taunting you with its size.

“fuck off, jean,” you hiss, eyes burning with frustration, “i told y—” he grabs your arm and hauls you to your feet effortlessly—the strength on this man absurd, yet you marvel at it.

“and i already told you,” he grunts angrily, cupping you crudely through your pants, your hips jerking forward at the contact, “stop fucking talking. you speak when i tell you to speak.”

brows furrowed, lips parting, argument already lodged in the back of your throat, he slides his hand inside your pants, fingers tugging your panties to the side and swiping at your slick folds. his touch is electric, divine and hellish all rolled into one; you don’t even care that he’s talking like that, you just want him to keep touching you.

“that’s what i fucking thought,” he says as fondly as a man like him can, teasing your clit before plunging a finger inside of you. his lips are on yours again, an addict seeking out his drug of choice, kissing you fervently, euphoria bursting inside of you as he inserts another finger. jean plunges his fingers in and out lazily, drawing out tiny cries of pleasure from you; your muffled moans only encourage him to curl his fingers a certain way and your pussy clenches around him in warning. it doesn’t phase him, though, as he keeps fingerfucking you like that, wrist bent, your clit bumping against his palm as he scissors his fingers inside of you.

“now,” his mouth pressed against your ear, his smooth voice eliciting a shudder that shakes you to your core, “i’ll give you one chance, so answer wisely.” you nod, barely paying attention, more focused on the waves of pleasure that wash over you with each thrust of his fingers. “who has your pussy dripping and begging to be fucked in the middle of this hallway?” when you open your mouth to respond, jean picks up the pace, your hips rolling faster, heart beating hard enough to put you into a coma.

“ahh,” you yell out, causing him to laugh and laugh, until you finish with: “g-god, god, fuck…” 

he grunts in displeasure, pressing his forehead against yours, as he says menacingly, “wrong fucking answer.” after he inserts a third finger, you lose it entirely, falling apart on his hand, tears rolling down your cheeks, your legs barely able to carry you. he works you through the orgasm, you hold onto him in desperation, because you know if you don’t, you’ll fall. his thumb grazes your clit and you leap out of your skin, the stimulation too much, your pussy sensitive after cumming like that.

but, jean, being impossibly jean, doesn’t care. he rubs your clit slowly, watching you tremble like a fawn that can’t get the grasp of walking yet. “i said i’d only give you one chance to get it right,” he licks the tears that roll down your cheeks.

“s-sorry, i’m sorry,” you sob, unable to take the overstimulation, your pussy aching, a fierce jolt of arousal clouding your mind, making it difficult to think straight. “please, jean, i can’t.”

he doesn’t let up for a while and when he removes his fingers, he admires the way your arousal sticks to his skin. “see that, bunny? remember that the next time you touch yourself when i’m not around.” you watch him as he slides his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean; it’s such an erotic sight, the way his throat bobs as he swallows, you can’t believe you spent so much time fighting him all those years.

before you can stop yourself, you lean forward on your tiptoes and kiss him sloppily, tongue seeking his, sucking on it almost immediately. he moans against your lips, allows you to taste yourself on him, helping him tug your pants and wet panties off in a hurry. you’ve really forgotten that anyone can catch you if they meander back there and poke their head around the corner. still, you get lost in him; he’s taken you for an exhilarating ride, one that you don’t want to end.

his cock still painfully hard, he turns you around; you place your hands on the wall and lean forward, arching your back so your hips and ass are angled properly. it’s on impulse that he brings his hand down hard and slaps your ass, the impact making it jiggle around in a way that mesmerizes him. you never thought you’d find that sort of punishment pleasurable, but with jean everything spins out of your control—you barely know who you are anymore.

rubbing his tip in between your folds, you moan out his name, and he laughs because it’s so ironic—you fought him so hard earlier, and now look at you. “you’re being so good, y’know that?” and good behavior deserved rewards. with one hand on your hip, grabbing it hard enough to probably leave behind a bruise, he slips his cock into your warm entrance, bit by bit, sucking in a breath in surprise. part of him wants to take his time, to have you adjust to his size properly, to give you something better than what he has planned—but the other part of him, the fiendish, petty part, doesn’t care about that. and it’s that part that pulls the strings; jean buries his cock inside of you deeply, the thrust making your toes curl in your boots. 

your whimpers only make him snap his hips again, harder, a breathy moan spilling from your lips; he bites your earlobe and whispers, “if you keep this up, everyone will hear you.” your eyes widen in realization, you try to keep your voice down, but jean seems entirely too interested in fucking you senseless. your eyes roll back and his lips press kisses on your neck. you want to tell him that it’s because of him that you’re having a hard time keeping quiet. if his cock wasn’t hitting that delicious spot, if his balls slapping against you didn’t turn you on, if you could actually be pissed by his shitty attitude, you’d be better off.

but that’s not the case, is it?

he likes seeing you like this, completely at his mercy, pussy on display for no one else but him. he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss, his mouth whispering filthy promises as his thrusts become less rhythmic and more incendiary. you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum, and as you’re writhing beneath him, you’re prepared to embrace another orgasm. “j-jean,” you pant, voice strained and hoarse.

“tell me what you need,” he coaxes, giving you short strokes that has your pussy clamping down tightly around him. “fuck, bunny, you really wanna cum again, huh?” 

you nod weakly, too tired to say anything, and too drunk off of him to bother trying. 

he drives into you roughly, fucking you like he hates you—and maybe he does, a little; you do piss him off, but not in the way he claims. it’s more complicated than he cares to think about. he brings you the sort of high you can’t find anywhere else, he places a hand over your mouth just before you let out a scream. you bite his palm hard, your body trembling violently as your orgasm leaves you breathless, his laughter reminding you that he’s still in control. “shit…,” he says airily, his stomach tightening as he slams his cock into you, bloodthirsty, vengeful, outright disrespectful—

yet at the same time, it makes you feel impossible, unattainable things; he was right, about saying he would ruin you. you can’t imagine anyone making you feel the way he has. he doesn’t bother pulling out, instead choosing to cum inside of you. his releases a shaky breath, grinning as he takes in the sight of you; tear-stained face, bruised lips, face the epitome of ecstasy. “hey,” he says loud enough to snap you out of your daze, “look at the mess we’ve made together.” your eyes drift lower and you whimper as he pulls his cock out of you, cum running down the insides of your thighs; it’s a sight to see, really. 

you don’t think you’ve ever seen such a lewd, filthy scene before in your life.

it’s shameful the way you like it. he turns you around again, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you from falling. you press your forehead on his chest, trying to catch your breath. it’s clear you’re having a heart attack; the way you can’t seem to take in enough air can’t be healthy.

you shoot him a sharp glare, to which he smiles wolfishly at. “got somethin’ to say?” he raises a thick, dark brown eyebrow, challenging you to say something contrary. 

to your credit, whatever you want to tell him never makes it out of your mouth—you mentally remind yourself to just just tell him off another time. guilt has jean feeling a tiny bit of regret once he sees the marks he’s left on your neck and hips. still, he warned you several times—his patience reached its limits the night before, and then you left and he got pissy over it, thinking the worst, and seeking you out all day. despite all of that, he knows he needs to make things right. kind of.

“too rough?”

you can’t believe he’s actually asking that now of all times. “what do you think?” your sass comes back full force, although your voice is scratchy, and it hurts to move your mouth. but him? he just chuckles quietly at your plight. 

“i see your mouth is working just fine again,” his voice has a sharp edge to it, making you gulp as you fix yourself. the fact that you let jean fuck you like that will haunt you forever. he’s still handsome as ever, even as he tucks himself back into his pants, even as he grabs you and kisses you fiercely, stealing your rationality all over again. you’re not sure if you’ll ever get tired of him kissing you—which is a fucking problem, obviously.

“you’re an ass,” you say swiftly and duck away from him. “but, i don’t totally hate you now.” your face flushes when you see cum on the floor; you need to get out of there. “i need ten business days to recover, so leave me alone until then.” it’s all he hears you say when you scurry off, desperate to shower so you can shriek under the water and try to not think of ways to intentionally piss jean off again. you’re too ashamed to face him, so you’ll do your best to avoid him for as long as you can—or else everyone will know just how badly he has you wrapped around his finger. and you’d rather die than anyone find that out.

#snk smut #aot smut #snk imagine #snk x y/n #snk x reader #jean krischtein #jean x reader #jean x y/n #fic request #it's finally done; i'm free; jean is just as much of a bastard as erwin is i'm realizing #‘i can change him’ 🥴 #jean kirschtein x y/n #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein smut

[134340am]

Hey Yuna hope you're having a wonderful day <3

May i request 4 with Jean boy ?? Thanks :) ✨

jean kirschtein x gn!reader, 0.5k, sfw part of my 200 frens celebration!

4. “wake up, love. why are you sleeping here?”

“wake up, love. why are you sleeping here?”

jean blinks once, twice, struggling to open his eyes. he could faintly make out your silhouette, draped in saturated hues of orange and pink as the sunset streams in from a nearby window. 

“s’ comfy,” he mumbles back, shifting in his armchair and grimacing at the loud pop in his joints. how long has he been asleep?

“sleepy old man,” you chided affectionately. “i hope your back doesn’t hurt.”

jean attempts to blink away his sleepiness while your blurry figure moves closer to him. he leans into your hand that cups the side of his face gently, melting into your touch like butter on a warm pan. a gentle nudge to his knee has him spreading his legs, welcoming your warmth as you sit curled up in your lover’s lap.

“wha’ time is it?” jean asks, lips moving against the crown of your head.

“almost dinner time.” you murmur back, tracing arbitrary shapes over his chest. jean shivers slightly when your finger catches on a nipple, then clears his throat quickly to shrug it off.

“we should start cooking soon then,” your boyfriend declares. 

you smile into his white cotton tee. “m’kay.”

the pair of you sit in comfortable silence.

jean’s hand travels up and down your back in comforting strokes. you tuck your face into his neck, inhaling lungfuls of his clean, homely scent. he could feel you press soft kisses to his neck, ticklish little pecks and bites starting from the base of it curving up to his adam’s apple, before trailing down again to give his collarbones some love. 

“what d’ya want for dinner?” you murmur between kisses. 

jean lets his hand fall to your thigh. “want you.”

you giggle at that, a soft tinkling sound that jean already has memorised, and push his hand off your thigh to intertwine your fingers together instead. “be serious, baby. we gotta decide soon.”

“hmmm. i want whatever you want.” 

you sit up with an offended gasp. “i was about to say that! you thief.”

“fine, fine. how about we go out for dinner?”

“really?”

“yeah, let’s go somewhere nice.” your lover pulls you back to him and you settle comfortably against his firm chest. “it’s not too late. we can leave in twenty minutes if you want.”

“sounds lovely.”

.

.

.

“aren’t you getting up?”

“in a minute,” you yawn. “i can see why you fell asleep here. it’s so cosy.” 

“mm-hmm.”

he lets you rest, silently savouring the warm weight on top of him akin to that of a comfy heated blanket. past your shoulder, jean watches as the gleam of vermillion orange light beaming in from the living room window fades into nothing. shadows slide across the floor, the sun saying its goodbyes, and it didn’t take long until the two of you are in almost complete darkness save for the pearlescent light of the rising moon. 

“ready to go, love? are you hungry?” jean asks, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

the soft sound of your breathing meets his ears. 

maybe dinner can wait.

a/n: writing jean gets me soft every time. he's been through a lot, so i just want him to be cuddled n loved ;( thank you for requesting! <3

(masterlist) (series masterlist)

#yuna's 200 frens celebration #yuna writes #jean kirschtein x reader #jean x reader #aot x reader #jean fluff #jean kirschtein fluff #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschtein x y/n #jean x you #jean x y/n #jean #snk

[firefly--bright]

Aayat ki Tarah.

jean kirstein x fem!desi!reader

the tinkling of your payal in jean's hands.

warnings : none.

tags : @androphobicslut , @san3ttessimz , @flowersbloominthedark , @pl4ybhaicarti , @voidheichou

a/n : god the amount of support i on posting that one (1) post of making a one shot of jean x desi! reader was. so. thank you.

i am aware that everyone's desi experiences are different, so I've tried not to go into too much detail and tried keeping things general, but i am sorry if i somehow offended you!!! i am open to any and all constructive criticisms!

translations will be given after the work! this is an incredibly self indulgent fic and i had so much fun writing it lol. thank you for reading this, and i hope you like it! reblogs, likes and notes are appreciated :))

| main masterlist is pinned on my profile| playlist i was listening to while writing |

--

Tujhe yaad kar liya hai,

Aayat ki tarah…

Im late, im late im late.  

You put a bindi on your forehead, immediately removing it because it wasn’t centred.

You didn’t have the time or patience to center it, so you just let it drop to the ground, not bothering to put it on your mirror like you knew your mother taught you how to.

Most times, you'd find used bindis on random mirrors all over your house.

Smiling to yourself, you put the finishing touch, the piece of resistance, a dupatta over your shoulder, smearing some kajal behind your right ear to "ward off evil spirits."

“love?” you heard Jean call out, opening your door fully.

The music echoed in your room, the gentle and powerful melody of which did not match the urgency of your situation.

Adjusting the dupatta a bit, you took one last look in the mirror, hoping and praying everyone else was as late as you were to the wedding. You were contemplating putting a pin to hold the dupatta in place, but a soft whisper of “holy shit,” snapped you out of your reverie.

You turned around to see Jean, dressed in a suit as instructed, with his mouth practically hanging open. You smiled a bit at the cliché reaction. You didn’t blame him; this was the first time he’d ever seen you in a lehenga, let alone in a lehenga like this. Usually your traditional wear was something quite simple, but since it was your first cousin’s wedding, your mother practically begged you to purchase the slightly grander one. And judging by your boyfriend’s expression, it was a good choice.

The music changed, playing the next one from your playlist. You walked over to Jean, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“you look good, jaan. But we’re late and I want to get there before my siblings do.” You say, brushing past him.

Jean jumped slightly and followed you to the front door.

“thank you, love. You look gorgeous too,” he says, smirking as he puts on his shoes, following your movements.

You smile back.

The night was somewhat chilly, but thankfully you were in Jean’s car, which kept you warm enough. Luck seemed to be on your side that day, since your mother was also running somewhat late.

Atleast you’d reach before her and avoid her endless berating if you were to reach later than her.

You should’ve just taken her advice and stayed at the hotel with the rest of your cousins, though. It would’ve been easier after the mehendi night, saving Jean from the hassle of picking you up as well, even if he had barely complained the other night.

You glanced at him from the passenger seat. His hands were gently drumming the steering wheel to the beat of the soft songs. He insisted on playing the playlist you had made, which was full of said soft desi songs that made you viscerally feel, in a way you didn’t know you could. Classical music was something you grew up with, along with most of your family, almost like a tradition.

Your grandfather would play classical songs from his mini caravan radio that someone had gifted him early in the mornings, which you’d catch some of before hurrying off to school. Now that you were older, however, you appreciated much more of the music. And Jean just so happened to love them with you.

Despite not knowing anything about the music, Jean still hummed along, warming your heart ten times over. He didn’t know the words, but still managed to hum in a way that was accurate to the original music, his deep voice complimenting the highs of the song perfectly.

You smiled a little. The music changed, playing 'radha kaise na jale' from Lagan.

“oh my god I love this song,” you said, turning the volume a little higher.

You swayed your hips as best you could to the song, mouthing the lyrics.

“what’s it mean?” Jean asks, smiling along with you, a stray piece of his hair visible on his forehead. You brushed it away, making sure not to disturb his driving, as you explained what it meant, immediately jumping into a mythology rant. How krishna, a young reincarnated god, would “innocently” make radha, a princess and also coincidentally a reincarnated goddess, jealous by dancing with other gopis (female villagers). You also gave him the entire plot of the movie Lagan.

You didn’t know that by the time you were finished, you were two songs from the original one which made you rant in the first place. you had also reached your location.

You breathed a bit. “I loved that song as a kid. I still do, obviously.”

“obviously.” Jean echoes with a smile.

His usually sharp eyes were soft as they looked at you. he reached out to adjust the mogras in your hair, the scent of which was filling the car up completely.

“oh! The payal.” You exclaim, your hand diving into your purse to find where you kept them.

They were gold and had bells that didn’t make too much noise; just enough for you to feel like you were walking on sunlight. They had small carvings of tiny gold flowers, delicately placed evenly apart from each other. Your mother had bought them last year for your birthday.

“let me,” Jean whispered, and with the music playing, you could barely hear him. he gently took the payal from your hands, inspecting them as you propped your foot up on your seat.

Jean glanced at your face.

How the fuck did he get so lucky?

If Marco had never spotted you across campus, waving you over to Jean and him, he would’ve never known about your existence. He wondered now how he’d even live without you, without your messy hair, cup of coffee in your hand, somehow juggling a snack, books, and said coffee in both your arms.

Marco had mentioned something about you being in one of his classes and study groups, but Jean was too busy staring at the coffee stain on the corner of your shirt.

“im usually more put together, I swear.” You had said.

Looking at you now, yeah. You were a little more put together. But that didn’t matter because he had seen you almost passed out at the library from exhaustion and still be in love with you, even if his mouth was chastising you for staying there so late without any food and breaks, his mind was running around in frantic circles thinking about you, and how he’d been so glad to find you after spending almost three hours looking for you, and how he would now get to share a late drive-thru meal with you, and how he’d get to put you to sleep, and he felt his heart constrict when you refused to let go of his green sweatshirt after he had talked you to sleep, how he felt his heart completely fly away from his body and probably into your arms as you snuggled close to him after he placed a small kiss on your forehead.

As friends. How was he so stupid?

Of course, not long after that night, he asked you out. It was raining, you were sipping coffee again, he was having a blueberry muffin. You two had taken solace under the front of a café, the side of his shirt was completely wet. But it didn’t matter because you had been smiling, your hand infront of you as you caught a few drops of rain on to your hand. He asked you why you called him jaan and not Jean, why you pronounced the 'j' in his name harder than anyone else did. You told him it meant life in hindi, and he gripped your waist and pulled you in for a kiss, soft and gentle and passionate and so... you.

And despite the cool weather, he had felt warm.

He placed the payal in his palm, gently moving your foot covered with tights on his thigh.

You let out a soft breath as the song changed.

If your twelve year old self would see this, she’d squeal. Hell, present you were squealing internally.

He gently clasped the first payal around your foot, as he motioned for your other. Your eyes didn’t leave his hands as he worked, softly brushing away the fabric of your lehenga, thumb and index finger working in perfect unison.

He clasped the other one. Despite your gaze being locked on his hands, you didn’t make a move to leave after he was done.

The melodies of the song intensified as you looked up, finding his eyes already on yours.

The gold in his eyes was shining with the reflection of the lights from outside. His hand rubbed circles on your calf as you shivered, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek.

A stray strand of his hair escaped onto his forehead again, despite being subtly gelled back. You leaned into his touch as your hand brushed away the hair, trailing to cup his cheek too.

“I love you,” he whispers, his eyes narrow a fraction, glossing over a little. You tilt your head further into his warm hand. How his hand managed to stay warm while yours were a literal block of ice, you didn’t know. What you did know, however, was the fact that he would usually entrap your hands into his own as an excuse to warm them up. when you were just his friend, you knew he was simply using your hands being cold as an excuse to warm them up with his own hands, holding them as he shrugged his jacket onto your shoulder despite your complaints of not being cold.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, kissing the palm of his hand.

He leans in then, his warm breath fanning on your face as he kissed you. his hand leaves your calf and rests on top of your kneecap, while his other hand rubs circles on your cheek, and you swear that you’ve become plyable putty in his warm hands. You pull away only a little, to see his eyes.

They're shining. You don’t control your smile, which makes Jean kiss you again, not caring about your lipstick transferring onto his lips.

His forehead rests against yours, as his hand makes your way to the back of your neck, careful not to mess up your hair. He rubs circles there, in his Jean Kirstein way, and you resist the urge to cry and ruin your makeup.

The song changes.

He whispers another “I love you.”

You are late to the wedding, not as late as your mother, as you re-aply your lipstick in the bathroom mirror.

The bells on your payal tinkle as you walk back to your jaan.

---

translation(s):

tujhe yaad kar liya hai aayat ki tarah - I've kept you in my mind like a promise.

i didn't put more Hindi/Urdu sentences cause i didn't want non hindi/Urdu speakers to feel left out :')

#og #mine #self insert #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #aot #jean kirschtein #jean kirstein x y/n #jean kirstein x you #jean x reader #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschtein x y/n #jean kirstein fanfiction #jean kirstein one-shot #desi!reader

[mommypieck]

⌗︙・friends with benefits with connie and jean ⸜⸜・

imagine you decide to become friends with benefits with both jean and connie. you knew they would be a little jealous of each other but you didn't know that they would see fucking you as a price to their dumb bets.

"i bet on y/n that i can jump across the pool." connie exclaims, punching jean is the side. of course jean doesn't believe him and they bet that if connie succeeds, he's gonna fuck your pussy tonight.

turns out that you spend your night with jean's cock buried inside of you while connie dries himself off. jeans cock is big and it feels good inside of you. he's not the roughest but he knows how to make you cum multiple times.

after few of their bets, you realize that jean can't let connie win for you own sake.

"you said you can take me." connie smirks, his cock ramming inside of your pussy. you have already cum 4 times and you're exhausted. but connie doesn't plan on stopping. for the first time in forever he got a better mark than jean and he's gonna savour his victory.

but with jean and connie, it's not only about fucking. they are your best friends, the kind of people you can always turn to. them stuffing you full is just a benefit of your friendship.

#aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan smut #aot headcanons #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein smut #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein smut #connie springer smut #connie springer x reader #connie springer x you #connie springer x y/n

[jeansplaytoy]

aot guys reacting to you posting ‘single’ right after a breakup.

Ony

Eren

Armin

Jean

#aot headcanons #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot x black reader #aot jean #jean x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean x black reader #ony x reader #ony x black reader #aot onyankopon #onyankapon #armin x black reader #armin arlet headcanons #armin x reader #jean headcanons #jeansplaytoy♡︎ #eren x you #eren headcanons #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #eren x black reader #eren x black fem!reader

[takeomisbitch]

Key:✩NSFW | 𖨆𖨆Angst | ♡Fluff

Main Masterlist | Navigation | Dialogue Prompt List | Scenario Prompt List | Head Cannon prompt list | Thing I Don’t Write

Scouts

Eren Yeager

Short stories

Gag him ✩

Headcannons

What they are like drunk ♡

His camera roll Before and During you ♡

Armin Arlert

Headcannons

What they are like drunk ♡

Mikasa Ackerman

Short Stories

I feel more sensitive ✩

Jean Kirstein

Short Stories

The Freak Panty Theif✩

Headcannons

What they are like drunk ♡

Connie Springer

Headcannons

What they are like drunk ♡

Sasha Blouse

Reiner Braun

Short Stories

I love you like this ✩

Bertolt Hoover

Annie Leonhart

Commanders/Captains

Levi Ackerman

Short stories

Distraction ✩ 𖨆𖨆♡

Erwin Smith

Short stories

You can be so mean ✩

Hange Zoe

Mike Zacharias

Marley

Zeke Yeager

Colt Grice

Porco Galliard

Pieck Finger

#bella's masterlist #AOT #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin eren #mikasa ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #jean kirschtein x y/n #connie springer x reader #sasha braus #fluff #anime imagines #aot imagines #armin arlert #hange attack on titan #erwin x you #aot zeke #pieck snk #masterlist

[ramonathinks]

THE GAME | eren x reader, connie x reader, jean x reader, armin x reader, reiner x reader [repost]

Summary: what are you supposed to do when your boyfriend promised his teammates that they could have some fun if they win the championship?

18+, (minors/ageless or blank blogs dni or instant block!) WARNINGS/TAGS INCLUDE: black coded reader, 69, oral, nipple sucking, cum eating, 6some (???), male masturbation, squirting, breeding, dirty talk, nipple play, kissing, handjobs, titjobs, fingering, humping/dry humping, choking, facefucking, pussy spanking, finger sucking, pet names, praise, degradation, hair pulling, teabagging, overstimulation, ball stimulation, snowballing

The final seconds had your heart pounding. Tied and neck to neck the entire game had you almost nauseated. Eren had promised a surprise for you when they won, so sitting there the entire night and biting your nails was all that you could do.

So the touchdown had you jumping up from your seat and running into the field. It wasn’t a surprise but you couldn’t contain yourself. He always kept up with his promises but this one was different, you could feel it.

“Baby!” You shouted and with his helmet barely off he did a lopsided grin and ushered you his way, picking you up with ease. “Oh my gosh, your plays were brilliant! I knew you’d do it.”

He smiled and wiped some of the sweat off of his face before he huffed, “I did it all for you. Couldn’t have embarrassed you now could I?” He winked, putting you down and entwining your fingers together.

“Yeah, of course. We’re gonna celebrate the win now, huh?” He raised his eyebrows a bit before he blinked a few times.

“Uh yeah baby. I just need to talk to you about a few things, okay?” You watched his teammates walking back into the locker room, all of them excited and even giving Eren some thumb-up’s you noticed.

“Mhm.” You folded your arms against your chest. “This tells me I’m gonna be pissed.”

“No, no, no…” He scratched the back of his neck. “Well…” He sucked in his teeth. “Just bare with me. Listen okay?”

So you did. You listened to this surprise he planned for you and the promise he planned for his teammates.

“Are you insane?” Was the only thing that left your mouth. You wanted to slap him. But you couldn’t lie, it had you feeling a way… a jolting joy pulsing between your legs. The way he was describing everything had you sweating.

“It was dumb of me. I know, baby. I just… Remember we talked about this ages ago? Me watching some guys take you and how sexy that’d be?”

You both had talked about it. It was a mutual fantasy but to actually engage in it? You gulped, “I…”

“It’ll just be a one time thing. I promise, you know unless…” He trailed off, a hopefulness in his eyes.

“You owe me big time, I hope you know that.” You grumbled as you walked towards the locker room with him hot on your heels.

It was steamy hot and covered in a white sheet of fog as you walked through, Eren’s hand in yours.

“Eren, yooo!” Called Connie before you finally were able to see him. His tanned skin wet and his slim body had your throat dry. “Ah shit, we doing this right now?” His towel fell to the floor and he grinned at you, his thick cock standing and instantly catching your attention. Dark and thick, enough hair covered around him and his balls bulging.

You felt hot but you bit back a groan, noticing the rest of the few boys circling around you and Eren.

It was overwhelming. These were your boyfriend’s friends… his teammates. They knew you and now…

Now, Eren was pulling your shirt down. Your brown nipples are already hard as you look at the boys over. He kisses your neck a few times as his teammates' eyes wander, a few of them staring at your breast, but they are hard to ignore.

Big perky brown boobs, Eren always seemed fascinated by them, using any excuse to grab and squeeze them. Just like he was doing now, tweaking at your nipples with the rough pads of his fingers.

Until you looked down and realized that it wasn’t Eren. It was Jean, who in a swift second had your legs buckling with just his fingers before he finally put one in his mouth.

Eren’s comforting warmth left you and an unfamiliar big strong chest welcomed you. You knew who it was before you peeked behind you, Reiner. His strong body was easy to recognize just against your back you could feel every ridge and every ab that he possessed. You gulped when his rough hands trailed up and down your back before he kissed the nape of your neck with cold lips, you shivered.

The sensation of two men against your body making you groan. Reiner’s fingers gripped the front of your neck while he whispered in your ear, “You see how he’s looking at you? That’s how I’ve always looked at you… always wondered how you look under the clothes…”

Eren’s eyes were envious and his cock hard in his uniform. Reiner’s voice drowned out as you stared at your boyfriend, his eyes staring deep into yours until your eyes watered and you were overwhelmed on the pleasure — feeling Jean’s mouth on one of your breast, his tongue swirling on the bud before pressing small kisses around your areola, meeting your intense gaze.

As Jean sucked on your left breast and played with the right one. Timid Armin approached with shaky hands and ducked, pulling down your leggings along with your panties.

Moisture was leaking between your thighs and Eren couldn’t help but to speak up, “Fucking slut, huh? You were acting all crazy about what I said but you’re loving it. So fucking wet… never even got that wet for me.” He slipped his hand in his uniformed pants and continued to watch you. His cock only half out as he stroked himself before he told Armin: “Eat her pussy. Eat it all messy. I wanna hear it.”

Armin gulped but nodded. His breath hot before he spread your flesh a bit and sucked on your swollen clit. Wetness gathering at his chin easily, “Oh fuck.” He used his fingers to massage your insides at the same time Reiner finally kissed you full on your mouth and Jean pinched both of your nipples. You gasped, trembling and Reiner shoved his tongue in your mouth. Sucking everywhere and swirling around in your mouth, drool pooled out the corner of your mouth and you felt as if you were going to faint.

Armin held your legs firm, keeping you still as his tongue dug deeper into your pussy. “How’s it taste Armin?” Eren purred, slowly closer to you.

“Fucking,” He slurped. “Fucking delicious.” His tongue circled your clit and you could feel him smiling against your thighs. “She’s so fucking wet.” Slowly blowing air on your clit, he smiled wider when he saw you twitching.

You almost forgot about Connie until you felt him kissing the other side of your neck, “Couldn’t let you forget I was here, right doll?” You felt him grinding on you, his leaky wet cock against your bare thigh made your eyes flutter.

“Please… I—“ You groaned, you were enjoying this too much. Every bit of you is stimulated and being sucked or played with. Your eyes rolled back.

Connie smiled before he circled your lips with his fingers. “I think this pretty baby just needs something to suck on.” Your mouth slowly opened and he slipped his two fingers inside. Massaging the pink wet muscle as you sucked with your eyes closed.

“Fuck, keep doing that… making her wet and so fucking tight. She likes it.” You heard Armin mutter, slipping his fingers in and out of your sloppy wet cunt as Connie’s finger pumped in and out of your mouth.

Jean kissing and sucking your breast, fingers rubbing at the other one and Reiner with his strong hand around your neck and his boner against your ass, he whispered in your ear again.

“You’re such a bad girl… doing all this in front of your boyfriend. Getting this little body played with in front of him… about to get it fucked right in front of him. You like that?” He squeezed at your throat and you moaned aloud.

“Keep talking to her,” Armin hummed. “You’re getting her so soaked.”

“Oh… you like my voice baby? You like when I talk to you, hm?” Your body felt hotter. “We’re gonna take care of you…gonna make you feel really good okay?”

“O-ooh…Okay. Okay.” Armin plunged three fingers deep inside, turning and stretching them inside of you.

“I need her to suck my fucking dick. I can’t take it anymore.” Connie groaned.

Seconds upon seconds and the heat from everyone’s touch disappeared and you almost cried, tears already in your eyes. “Shhh.” Jean rubbed the sides of your stomach. “Just trying to make you more comfortable, okay?”

You listened and allowed him to move your body as he pleased. Laying you down on one of the benches and spreading your legs. “Fuck… such a pretty pussy.” He spread your lips, dragging a finger down your wet heat.

“Now baby,” Connie said to you from above. You couldn’t see him, just the blurriness of his cock that was so close to your face. “Open wide.”

You gulped and invited him inside. His cock twitching just from your breath. He felt you swallow around him and he took his lip between his teeth. “Oh fuck.”

“She’s got a good mouth on her, huh?” Eren said as Connie slid in deeper before pulling some out, just to repeat it again. Eren’s cock still hard as he pumped himself, clearly edging.

“Fuck yeahh!” He huffed, feeling you swirl your tongue all over his veiny cock. Moving your hands from your side, to cup his balls.

Connie grabbed the sides of your face and put his cock in so deep, that his pelvis was the only thing in your line of vision. It didn’t stop you from squeezing his balls again.

You felt your other hand move and wrap around a slippery wet cock and while Connie pounded at your throat, you heard Armin groan.

Moving your hand up and down, hearing the echoes of wet noises and soft moans, you felt yourself getting ever more drenched.

Moaning around Connie’s cock, you scraped the sides with your teeth a bit and he moaned even louder, liking it. You smiled to yourself and kept going.

Armin spit on your already wet cunt and messily shook his head, watching it drip before he slurped it back up in an instant. Pulling your flesh with his teeth, he sucked a fold in and rubbed circled motions up and down your clit. Your legs were shaking but you just continued to lick and slobber all over Connie’s thick length. Your pussy throbbing as your hips jerked away from Armin’s hungry lips.

“Stay still,” He mutters, but you're just so sensitive that you can’t, almost kicking him away. His tongue is brutal and heavy as he sucks and slurps his way down, your feet curl when he gives you another long suck, a moan deep in his throat and you feel it all throughout your body. You can barely focus on him, your mouth sucking Connie in and your eyes on your sexy boyfriend, in the corner.

“Ah, don’t focus on him. This isn’t about him…” Reiner’s alluring voice comes again and your eyes are on his. His mouth blowing cool air on your perky nipples. “You’ve been slacking on Jean, keep moving your hand for him baby,” Gulping around Connie, you listen and as you stroke his cock, never taking your eyes off Reiner’s, who’s sucking on your tits like he expects milk to come out. You can hear Eren moaning in the background and for a split second you look over to him and meet his eyes, lusty and dark before a hard jolt rings throughout your body. An echo of wetness and a slick slap on your cunt and you flinch, popping Connie out of your mouth to look at Armin.

But it wasn’t Armin’s hand, it was Reiner’s.

“Didn’t I say not to focus on him?” He grabs your jaw and forces you to look his way. “Don’t be a bad girl. You’ve been such a good girl all this time, listening to me. Don’t mess that up.” Your body shivers and it's hard not to look over at Eren, but the intense look in Reiner’s eyes lets you know he means business. Moving his hand down from your jaw, he trails it down to your neck and gives it a small squeeze, looking you deep in your eyes. His other hand grazing your cunt, ready for you to disobey him. “Just what am I going to do with you, hm?”

He kisses you, your mouth full of precum and spit, but he doesn't care how dirty it is. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull and you're gasping, as he kisses you so roughly. His tongue curling into yours and licking every piece of you. You hear Armin whispering about how soaked you’re getting and Connie jerking himself a bit loudly in your face, Jean mutters a small fuck at how youre gripping him so tightly now. The kiss only deepens and you're both sucking on each other, swirling your tongues together and his hands pulling at your nipples, gripping and twisting them. He pulls back and watches as some spit disconnects from your mouths. “Been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Oh, fuck.” Eren moans, his hips jerking and cumming shooting out of his achy cock. But even with the cum leaking, he continues to jerk himself. Connie, uses this time to grip you hair and pull you back down so that you’re lying on your back and rub his cock all over your face.

“C’mon, mama, welcome me back into that throat. Ohhh, just like that. Just need to come, right here. Probably can get you pregnant just like this, hm?” He jokes, pushing himself back inside with a sway of his hips. His pace is even more brutal, probably from feeling neglected.

Jean removes your hand from him and rubs his aching cock onto your breast, while Reiner sucks on the other one, his eyes shut. Armin, slurps up the bits of your slick up before he sits up – sitting on top of you and pressing the weight of his cock against your cunt. “Oh fuck, never been this hard in my life.” He’s aching as he slips his cock out. He's sliding his cock between your wet folds, your body completely over-stimulated. “You’ve always been so nice to me. Now, I’m gonna show you, just…just how much I appreciated you.”

Slipping inside of your wet heat, he groans. “Oh fuck.” He stills, feeling you clamp down on him, his hips flush against yours. Your body is completely filled. Connie eases his cock out of your mouth, your lips wet before you lick them again, he groans and slips it in and out at the tip, your tongue lapping at his wet tip a few times. Slipping his cock out completely, he dips his ball into your mouth and you suck, “That’s nice… such a good girl–Ah! Your tight fucking mouth…” Dipping his full balls in and out of your mouth before putting his cock back into your mouth. Your hand squeezing and massaging his heavy balls as you continue with sucking and choking on his cock, you could feel his cock all the way in the back of your throat. Jerking his hips into your mouth quickly, so close. “Oh baby, you like that?” Breathlessly, your eyes roll back again as you suck deeper. “Oh shit, I’m gonna fucking c-cum.” His legs shake and he grips your throat as he pounds inside before he stills, cum leaking down your mouth, but you keep swallowing.

Armin’s groaning against your stomach as he ruts inside of you, sloppy as you milk his cock. “Swirl your hips just a bit, that’s just how she likes it.” So he does, and you can fill every thrust he gives you. “See how wet she gets?” Eren rubs at your clit, watching your cunt suck in more of Armin. Fucking his cock into you so slowly as you both moan.

“Isn’t she so pretty like this, boys?” It’s the first time in a while you heard your boyfriend’s voice and your eyes are fluttering as you smile. Reiner opens your mouth and your tongue slips out, to which he sucks on. Swirling his tongue against your cum covered tongue.

“Very pretty.” Jean says, his voice strained. His cock throbbing, rubbing his cock up and down your body. Armin’s eyes watching his cock slipping in and out, so much of your cum coats his cock, your legs shaking as you grind your hips against his.

“I think she needs something in her mouth again, Jean…” Reiner taps his shoulder. When Jean finally sinks into your mouth, Armin feels you tighten around him even more and he truly fucks into you, his hips hard as he pounds into your soppy cunt, moaning and groaning. Pulling himself in and out as you whine against Jean’s cock. Armin pulls your legs up so that they’re closer to your face, your hands on his shoulder while your eyes grow spotty, the tip of his cock hitting all the right places. Gooey and wet sounds as you both throb, your pussy still squeezes him all over before he finally cums inside of you.

You swallow and bob your head against Jean. “Her throat feels so fucking good. Connie, how did you last so fucking long, I’m gonna fucking– cum!” His cock pulses inside of your throat, his warm release coming down your throat.

Everyone steps back and admires the sight of you, naked and cum leaking out. "If we win nationals, then I'll fuck you so good, yeah?" Reiner licks up and down your throat as you grow wet again.

#aot eren #armin alert smut #aot x female reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #aot smut #attack on titan #attack on titan armin #aot armin smut #armin arlert x reader #aot armin #armin x reader #eren x fem!reader #eren x reader smut #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren x reader #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirsten x reader #jean kirstein x reader #connie springer x reader #connie x reader #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun smut #reiner x reader #connie springer smut

[eli0004]

Making Out With The AoT Men

Summary: what it’s like to make out with the AoT boys

Gn!Reader

Warnings: Slight Nsfw suggestion

(Contains: Eren, Jean, Armin, Connie, Levi, Erwin)

Let me know if you all want me to do a more detailed version for any of them.

Eren Yeager is eager. He feels everything intensely, and that includes love. He’s holding your face in his hands, or tangling his fingers in your hair, all but climbing on top of you. He likes a lot of tongue, so his kissing is sloppy, and he’s so quick to become aroused. Eren wants all your attention on him, and you can bet that his is on you. Someone could walk into the room and say words to him and he’d be none the wiser. He gets so lost in the feeling that he quite literally sees nothing but you.

Jean Kirstein is passionate. He’s a hopeless romantic and he loves to be loved. When you’re making out with Jean, his hands will hover until you give him the go to touch you. His brows are tightly knitted together, and he just wants to pull you closer against him. Another one that likes his hair tugged on, but not too hard. Jean is all about gentleness, he values loving touch. If you’re ok with it, he will softly grab at your hips and thighs, not to squeeze or smack, just to touch you. To feel the warmth of your body underneath his palms.

Armin Arlert is soft. So so soft, his fingers in your hair, his blue eyes hazy and full of adoration. He’s humming softly against your lips, and he whispers little “i love you’s” in between kisses. His hands are soft, his lips are soft, the pink heat spreading over his cheeks is soft. You can run your fingers through that thick, silky blonde hair, tug a little at the roots and hear him whimper. He gets worked up too easily, his hips are softly raising off the couch cushion to find some relief. Honestly i’d say he’s in top 3 best AoT kissers.

Connie Springer is lazy, but not in a bad way. He could spend all his time wrapped up in blankets with you, safe inside, just basking in each other’s affection. He smiles a lot between kisses, so you’ll accidentally kiss his open mouth and he’ll just giggle at you as you scoff at him. His eyes get all droopy and he moves slow and deliberately. You make him so happy he can hardly contain it. Another one on the list that will blow your mind with his kissing skill.

Levi Ackerman is nervous. No matter how many times you make out with this man, your close proximity never fails to make his heart skip a beat. He does get comfortable quickly, however, and he’ll reach out and grab onto your forearms or search for your hands to hold. I like the idea that Levi is endearingly awkward, he doesn’t always know what to do and he likes for you to lead. But his head absolutely swims with love and desire, sometimes he’ll flutter his eyes open briefly just to look at you and soak in the feeling of being held so close. It took him a while to become comfortable with french kissing, but now, from time to time you’ll feel the tip of his tongue poking gently at your lips, and who are you to deny him?

Erwin Smith is just happy. He’s simply content to be in your embrace, letting out happy little sighs between your kisses. He’ll confidently place his hands on your thighs, squeezing gently, or traveling up under your shirt. His hands are so big and warm, calloused against your back and he’s so sensual with his affection. His hair becomes all disheveled and messy and the content expression on his face, the adoration in his eyes is so attractive, you cannot resist this man. Best kisser out of all of them.

#aot x reader #attack on titan #aot #aot headcanons #aot smut #aot x y/n #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #erwin smut #aot erwin #erwin smith #eren yeager smut #eren aot #eren yaeger x reader #eren yeager #jean kirstein headcanons #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirschtein x reader #jean attack on titan #armin arlet x reader #armin arlert #armin aot #connie springer x reader #connie springer #aot connie #snk #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin

[6sakusa]

𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

Content: FWB relationship, missionary, fingering, mating press, creampie, riding, jealous!eren, him just being soft tbh.

A/N: Not proof read and written on a whim sorry not sorry.

Summary: Eren Jaeger is genuinely incapable of doing friends with benefits, he always seems to have problems with the ‘no strings attached’ part of it all.

You knew some of Eren’s friends and he was pretty renowned around campus, so the day you met him you can believe that you were pleasantly surprised to say he lived up to the hype and more in terms of his gorgeous face. Surprisingly he took quite an interest in you, the pretty girl with Jean’s arm slinged around her shoulders? Oh he’s got to know more. When he got your number he was elated and as expected, it didn’t take more than a few text exchanges before getting you in his bed but something about this was different. Maybe he was just pussy-whipped but he genuinely, for the life of him, couldn’t stop fucking you.

“T-Too much.” You manage to get out through your moans, it’s practically incoherent but by the way you’re clawing at his back while he’s balls deep inside, hammering you in missionary while he presses light kisses to your collarbone even has him surprised. He pulls away from you, slightly, just slightly to your earlobe where he whispers, “You can take it for me, can’t you?”

And of course you do, but the strangest part is that even when Eren fills up the condom he can’t stop, pushing your legs against your chest and fucking you in all kinds of devious angles that have you falling apart in seconds. “Fuck I can’t stop, can’t believe I wasn’t in this pussy sooner.” He whines out against your ear, pushing the both of you into overstimulation countless times.

It’s safe to say you were spent after that but to his your surprise and his, the next day he’s calling you again, asking if you wanted to come over. There was one rule that Eren Jaeger lived by, never fuck the same girl twice. It was simply because he didn’t want to give them the wrong impression, he wasn’t looking for anything serious, anything along the lines of a relationship was an absolute no-go, so he thought it was best to avoid any remnants of that all together. But yet he’d somehow convinced himself there wasn’t any harm in going at it with you again, you were his best afterall.

By the third time he told himself it would be the last time, that was a lie. As hard as he tried to get you off of his mind it wasn’t possible, sex with any other girl felt mediocre after you which left him with only one choice: Running back to you.

“So what do you think about us making this a thing?” He stops halfway through unbuttoning your top, he’s got you trapped underneath him, pupils blown out from your makeout session from just seconds ago.

“A thing?” You raise your eyebrow, a light chuckle escapes your lips in amusement from such cryptic language and for some reason it pulls at Eren’s heartstrings. What was this overwhelming urge to hear you do it again suddenly?

“Yeah a thing.” He repeats, “Like we fuck, no strings attached.” He asks nervously, fumbling with the next button on your shirt a little nervously.

“Are you asking for friends with benefits?” Your expression contorts into one of disbelief, for a second he thinks he’s messed this up and he’s about to lose the best sex he’s had in his entire life until he hears another laugh escape from your lips. “Okay, no strings attached.”

And just like that his lips are back on yours again.

Turns out you really do become friends, you talk constantly on the phone which though, does usually lead to sexting over the following weeks you become closer and closer to one another. The next time Eren tries to get with a new girl his mind wanders back to you, your pretty face, your gorgeous body, your cute little laugh. And the moment he gets his cock out to fuck her it won’t get hard, like physically it can’t. That was definitely one of the most embarrassing experiences of his life, not only was his mind being stupid but now he couldn’t even control his dick when it wasn’t about to be inside of you. That day he left that girl very disappointed, a huge blow to his ego and perhaps reputation but for some reason he finds himself outside your door instead of his own dorm he was planning on going home to.

And surprise surprise, the moment he sees your face, peering up at him with your head cocked into the side in confusion as to why he’s showed up without a word at this time, oh he’s rock solid. Naturally, to make up for such an intrusion he fucks you crazy, enough that it takes twenty minutes for you to regain your ability to speak afterwards. He’s convinced he’s in a slump right now, soon enough he’ll get over this and be back to getting around with whatever women he wants and then he’ll be able to end your agreement once and for all. Yep, that was the plan.

“How are you gonna get home?” You raise an eyebrow, walking out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in your mouth. He can’t help but laugh at you, no one would’ve known how hard you were getting fucked just an hour prior. “You didn’t drive here right? So you left your car.”

“I can walk.” He pulls up his sweats back up, looking at you in a manner that he probably shouldn’t be.

“You can stay the night if you’d like.” You wave him off, wandering back into the bathroom to finish off. It takes him much longer than he should to respond but he does, eventually.

“Here?”

“What?” You laugh, cocking your head to the side. “You don’t like my place?”

“The beds a little small.” He jokes, peering down at the same thing you just fucked on. You roll your eyes, grabbing yourself some fresh pyjamas from your wardrobe. “Well I’m sorry that it wasn’t designed for a six foot four man.”

“Don’t do that, you’ll boost my ego.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Through all the jokes between the two of you his head is screaming at him that this isn’t a good idea, but when you show him your favourite blanket that he wouldn’t be allowed to use he’s convinced of two things. You’re way too cute to say no to, and the fact that you won’t share your things with him is a good sign. This isn’t intimate, it’s nothing but a good friend doing him a favour.

There just wasn’t one thing he’d anticipated, how much he would love cuddling you in your bed. This was detrimental for him because now he craved it after sex. The next time he was finished with you he opened his arms out once you’d cleaned yourself up, albeit awkwardly considering he’s never consciously done this before.

“What?” You look at him with confusion, your expression only deepens when he frowns, “You hungry or something? We can order food.”

“Yeah.. what are you up for?” He mutters out, closing his arms instantly. That was the last time he decided to not have the courage to ask you to cuddle because he felt strangely empty afterwards.

Obviously, you’re a bit surprised when the emerald eyed devil in all his six foot glory stutters when mumbling, “C-Can we cuddle?”

“Huh? You wanna cuddle?” You almost snort, Eren had obviously avoided anything on any lines of being intimate, the second the two of you had a conversation unrelated to sex and he realised that he would waste zero time throwing an inappropriate joke in. Just a reminder of what your relationship with eachother entailed, nothing more.

“Why are you saying it like that?” He pouts, rubbing his temple with two of his fingers lightly. You seemed surprised and he definitely felt embarrassed.

“I just didn’t expect it from you.” Your furrow your eyebrows, realising that oh, Eren Jaeger was actually being serious when he was asking you to cuddle right now. You seemed reluctant and that’s when he knew that you were in deep in this agreement as he was. Fuck, you might even be worse. You’ve never proposed to do anything intimate and now you even looked like you were about to flatly reject his proposition, how had he let it come to this. There was only one solution, pull out the big guns and guilt trip you out of his embarrassment, “I thought we were friends with benefits, don’t humans need physical touch to survive? That sounds like a benefit to me.” He folds over his arms, all whiny with pink littering his cheeks.

“Okay okay.” You scoff, rolling your eyes, knowing that he could go on until tomorrow if you didn’t stop him. You make your way over to him on the bed, allowing him to engulf you in his arms. He relishes in his victory with a smug expression on his face for a few minutes until you randomly say. “I can’t believe you like this.”

“What? You don’t?” There’s an overwhelming feeling of worry in his chest that he can’t quite discern, the feeling that you may not like him past being friends. But why did he care about that? He shouldn’t, he didn’t like you past being friends? Right? So why had he still not fucked another girl in months? Why was he finding it so hard to get it up without you? He pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind and does what he does best, makes it into a game. Now he was on a mission to get you to fall in love with cuddling, he had his arms around you every chance he could get. Especially after sex until it became a routine with the two of you and you couldn’t fall asleep in his arms otherwise. It was nothing more than mission accomplished he told himself.

At that point the dynamic of your friendship started to change, he couldn’t help the urge to want to see you more often which meant that he invited you out with his friends as much as he could. And he couldn’t regret something more because now Jean had you wrapped around his stupid finger, laughing at all his jokes while you brushed your hands on his chest. God, it made Eren sick.

What was worse it when Jean started sneaking into your sex life, that was his final straw.

Ren: Wanna come over? I’ve got your favourite cookies

You: Extremely tempting offer but im out right now, save them for me?

Ren: Where?

You: Jean’s place

Ren: You never told me you were going there lmao

You: ?

You: Was I supposed to? You don’t tell me when your with other girls

Except he was never with other girls these days. So the next time he saw you he asked straight up if you and Jean had sex. You gave him a strange glance but nodded reluctantly, not knowing if that was actually any of his business or not.

“Oh.” He responds, playing with his fingers, an excuse to do anything but focus his gaze on your pretty eyes.

“Is that.. a problem?” You raise an eyebrow.

“No.” He says so quickly that you’re almost shocked, like he’s so sure of his answer that he doesn’t even question it. “We’re not exclusive so do whatever you want.” He scoffs, it’s more of a reminder to him than it is to you but you can’t help but wince at his harsh tone. It’s just like Eren to cause an argument because he doesn’t have it in him to convey his real feelings. So the next thing you know he’s rambling about STDs, how you having multiple sexual partners isn’t safe for him and how the two of you should break off your agreement. None of it made any sense considering Jean was the only guy you’d fucked in months other than Eren and you knew nothing about what Eren got up to sexually either. Anyway, it was safe to say you stormed out of his place that day in tears and fuck did he feel so bad that he wanted to cry himself. Especially when he finds out that the first place you went after that was to Jean’s house. God he was so mad at himself.

After some time when he finally builds the courage, and albeit after a drink or two he turns up at your door step, it’s a heinous time to be banging down your door, he knows. Of course, your roommate isn’t happy about it either but when he’s telling you how sorry he is and how much he misses sex with you it only takes a few more sweet, yet filthy words to get you writhing under him once more in your bed.

“So sorry baby.” He reminds you as his hands pull your lace panties down a little, he really did miss this so much, missed you too, such a pretty sight. “Want me to show you how sorry I am?” He asks teasingly, running his fingertips up and down your sensitive thighs.

You nod slowly, your breath hitching as he sports you his signature grin. You haven’t seen that in a while and you know exactly what it means. He wastes no time sticking his finger inside of you, he’s memorised your body by now, the way you like to be touched, your little reactions to what he does, the exact angle that his finger needs to hit to get you to cum in under a minute. “Shit.” You fist his top, pulling him down into a messy kiss.

“You like that?” He asks against your lips, his fingers continue to work magic on you. “Did you miss me?” He asks, pulling away slightly while he begins to work into you much quicker than before, it’s enough to have you moaning under his touch. “Tell me how much you missed me.”

“Missed you so much.” You breathe out, he rewards you by pressing his thumb to your clit, rubbing it in circles while his fingers pump in and out of you. You’re falling a part so quickly and you’re easily reminded that no one can make you feel as good as Eren can.

“Yeah?” He breathes, “You gonna show me? Gonna show me how much you missed me?”

You nod and he makes a negative sound, completely unsatisfied with your answer. “Gotta say it gorgeous.” He whispers against your earlobe, “You know how I am, wanna hear you speak.”

“I’ll show you.” You manage to say between moans, your name is on the tip of his tongue and the familiar feeling is in your stomach once more but he doesn’t let you cum, slowing down once he recognises the way your cunt feels when you’re about to spill over the edge.

“Not yet.” He laughs, “Tell me, how are you going to show me?”

“Gonna let you fuck me, I’ll let you fuck me as hard as you want.” You whine, grabbing onto his toned arms in protest, hoping that it will be enough to get him to let you cum.

“You promise?”

“I promise ‘Ren.” You nod, he pulls his fingers out of you and stuffs them in your mouth before putting them in his own. It’s filthy really, no one would ever believe the two of you were anything more than fuck buddies but you loved it, you loved that out of all people Eren could be your dirty little secret.

The next second he has his hands pressing your knees against your chest, you practically yelp in surprise when he pushes his cock inside of you without warning. “Then take this fucking dick like a good girl, can you do that for me?” He doesn’t give you any time to adjust to his pace, he’s pounding into your mercilessly enough so that lewd sounds are filling the air that can’t even be disguised with either of your moans. “Don’t need to prep you properly right? Considering you’ve been fucking other guys.”

You tighten around him at his words, he’s being so mean and you hate when Eren’s mean to you, except in the bedroom, God is it a turn-on. “Oh you like that? Fucking slut.” It was becoming more and more obvious that Eren was in fact mad about you and Jean, this entire thing was a jealousy fuck put simply and my was he putting on his best performance.

The kiss he pulls you into the next second is such a contrast to his dominating demeanour, it’s so gentle and sweet, the type that you give to someone you love and for some reason you can’t help but reciprocate it. He leaves light kisses on your neck, knowing that you would never let him mark you, trust him, he’s tried. The second his lips pull away from your body he’s back to being mean again, picking up the pace even more than before. “Eren— fuck.” You can’t even get out your words.

“Feels good?” He asks, usually he doesn’t like it when you only give him a nod but he knows that right now he’s fucking you absolutely stupid and there’s nothing else you can do. “Who else can make you feel this good huh?” He slows down his strokes, wanting a genuine answer from you as he wraps his hand around your throat. “Tell me, who else?”

“No one.” You whine as tears prick your eyes, he has no mercy for you, not a care in the world as the headboard of your bed slams against your wall. You’d have to apologise to your roommate later. “That’s right, no one.” His thumb brushes your cheek lighty. “So whose pussy is this?”

“Yours!”

“Correct, mine.” He grins smugly, he knows it doesn’t really count considering he can get you to say anything as long as he’s balls deep inside but still, for some reason the sentiment means a lot to him. "You're being so good for me, you wanna cum?"

"Y-Yes please." His expression darkens for a second and he's worried that the time away between the two of you has meant that you'd forgotten the rules of the bedroom.

"Yes please, what?"

"Yes please daddy." You correct yourself instantly and he grins with satisfaction, being nice enough to press his thumb against your clit one more. Rubbing it in soft circles while he bucks into you faster until you're clamping down against him.

“Fuck missed this pussy so much, missed you so much." He says in pure ectcasy as he throws his head back. And for someone who was banging on about safe sex the last time you saw him it's surprising that he had zero reserves about fucking you raw and then cumming inside.

He releases spurts of cum into you and it's almost shocking how much he fills you up, when you were first fondling with his balls tonight you told him how heavy they felt while grinding on his thigh. You'd figured he hadn't fucked anyone in a while, now you could confirm that with the way white thickness was trailing out of you. For the first time, Eren does all the things he never used to before and you can't help but think it's so gentleman-like. The way he rushes to clean you up, not leaving you to do it yourself, the bath he runs for the two of you, the way he changes your bedsheets and for once how he isn't running off home the second he's nutted. Instead he has you in his arms and even more shockingly stays the night.

One thing he hadn't anticipated with all your time away was how much your relationship with Jean had progressed. It was only when he woke up the next morning, seeing you in your pretty little dress and face full of makeup that he wanted to ruin so badly that he realised. "Oh finally, you're awake." You spin your legs in his direction from the chair you sat on opposite your vanity table.

"Nice treat to wake up to." His eyes trail your body shamelessly, and his hoarse morning voice only has your blood rushing south. Eren looks gorgeous in the mornings too, he always does.

But there was something about his hair down against the pillow, the light pink littering his cheeks when he's realised that he's engaged in something intimate last night, his pretty eyelashes when he gazes at you. And don't get started on the way half of his abs are visible through the bedsheets considering he's so adamant on sleeping shirtless.

"You going somewhere?" He asks, propping himself up a little with his elbows. "I thought that maybe we could grab breakfast or something." He continues with a little frown on your face. Eren has never proposed grabbing breakfast before, like ever.

"Sorry." You say, grabbing your bag, double checking that you had everything you needed.

Your perfume fills his nose and he has to bite back a smile, he's so glad to be back. "I've got a date but feel free to help yourself to breakfast here."

"A date?" He practically erases the last part of ot your sentence from his mind, "With who?" He raises an eyebrow, fully sitting up now.

"Jean." You give him a look that reminds him to watch his words considering how he spoke to you the last time he came up.

"Oh.." It felt like that was the only thing Eren knew how to say when it came to you with another man, he was speechless. The time away made him realise he liked you, of course he fucking liked you. What he hadn't yet realised is that he loved you, all those months together meant that you were the girl that had captured his heart and now knowing after last night you'd be off with Jean?

Oh he felt sick. "So you guys are getting pretty serious then?"

"I mean I guess." You shrug, "But we're not exclusive yet."

"So what does that mean for us?" He asks, you've never seen such hurt in Eren's eyes the way you were seeing it right now. The words were almost taken from your mouth but you were doing what was best for you. When you'd first started your arrangement with Eren you were warned by your you were warned by your friends about him. You didn't listen, the sex was too great for you to bother. Over time you realised you'd started developing feels for him and if there was one thing about Eren Jaeger it was that he was allergic to the word intimacy. You'd never have what you truly wanted out of him. So when Jean came around with all the affection in the world your friends convinced you that was what you deserved so naturally, you made an effort.

"Us?" You raise an eyebrow, "Well I guess we'd have to stop what we're doing. obviously." You point between the two of you, hopeful that he wasn't about to suggest cheating if you and Jean did get together.

"Right." He responds plainly, it's extremely blunt, why wouldn't it be? He's got nothing else to say. "We can still be friends though."

Oh that one really hurt. "Yeah.. friends."

"Look I'm already really late, l've got to go but l'll see you later okay?" You don't give him anytime to respond before rushing out of the door, the air was so suffocating in there and you could feel the awkward unspoken tension that you didn't have it in you to face. It takes a lot considering his heart has just been broken but eventually Eren gathers the strength to stand up, waltzing into your kitchen for said breakfast to see you roommate Sasha giving him a scowl. He wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t like him or if it was because the two of you were too loud last night. Either way he wasn’t interested in that, he was much more fixated on the freshly bloomed vase of flowers that were now on your kitchen island that he’d never seen before. He figured they were Sasha’s, he knew she had a boyfriend because you’d told him.

“Nice, did Niccolo get these for you?” He raises an eyebrow, hoping that it would be enough to dissipate the awkward silence between the two of you.

“Actually…” She turns around with a smug expression, “Jean got them for y/n.” She shrugs, going back to whatever cereal she was pouring. Fuck, he was beginning to doubt himself. Jean seemed like the perfect guy for you, he’s been taking you out on dates, getting you flowers and now he knew the two of you were sleeping together, it was only a matter of time.

The next time he texts you is a few days later, he makes the highest effort possible to not bring any form of sexual speak into the conversation. He was determined to show you how much he cared about solely you and your day. Imagine his surprise when you told him that you and Jean had a date planned tomorrow.

You: Honestly I think he’s finally going to ask me to be his girlfriend

Ren: About time

You: Tell me about it

Ren: If that was me I wouldn’t have ever waited that long

You: Stop being a flirt

Ren: Come on, you know me

You: Yeah I do

You: Kinda gonna miss you ig

Ren: Kinda?

You: Yeah just a little

Ren: I’ll miss you less

You: Just a couple days ago you were in bed whining about how you missed me so much though?

Ren: Low blow

You: Come on, you know me

Ren: Not funny when you do it

You: Shut up you love it

Ren: Yeah unfortunately I do

You: Hey wanna come over? One last time for old times sake

Ren: Fucking you before you become someones girlfriend? How romantic

You: Is that a yes?

Ren: You know it is

And now that he was back in your bedroom, legs spread out while you bounced on his cock because he was adamant on the fact that he did all the work 90% of the time during your FWB relationship, he realised how much he simply cannot let you go. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact your pussy had his head going foggy but once he felt you gripping around his cock, he could only tilt his head back while using his hands to lift your body weight up and down his shaft. The moment he was cumming he slipped into confessions that he probably shouldn’t have, “Fuck baby I don’t want you to leave me, I love you, I love you so fucking much you don’t even know.” He moans against your ear while filling you up.

You can hardly process his words until you’ve come down from your high and you’ve got your arms around his neck while he rubs your back soothingly. You’re so out of breath from riding but he presses a kiss to your temple and it’s enough to calm you down, “You did such a good job, you always do.”

Seconds later your eyes widen, remembering what he just said. You pull away from him, a shocked expression on his face as your eyes search his for any indication that he’s realised what he’s said. “You what?”

He pouts, “Don’t make me repeat it please, it took everything in me to admit it already.”

“Adm— You mean that? Like actually?”

“Of course I do.” He sighs, running one hand up and down your waist slowly while the other cups your face. “I know I’ve been a dick for a long time and I never really had the courage to say anything but I like you more than you know. Fuck that, I love you, everything about you. The way you laugh when I tell you the stupidest joke, your pretty face and these eyes when you’re about to scold me for something, every inch of your body that you’ve let me explore, all these little beauty marks that you have, especially this one here.” He places his hand on the small of your back.

“I have a beauty mark there?” You try to turn around but of course, you can’t see it.

“Yeah you do.” He laughs, “And it’s perfect, just like you.” For a moment he pauses with a sigh, “I know Jean is going to ask you to be his girlfriend tomorrow but—“ He gulps, “But I don’t want you to be his girlfriend! You said you were mine and I don’t want things between us to end, I don’t want you to leave me!” He begins whining.

You fall into his chest and for a moment he thinks he’s said the wrong thing before you start— laughing? “What?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I would’ve never expected you to say something so.. pathetic.” You shake your head with a laugh, “That’s so like you.” You whisper.

“I’m pouring out my heart here.” He deadpans.

“Sorry.” You shake your head, “Please continue, I love hearing it.” You say, placing a light kiss on his lips.

“If you feel anything for me..” He begins again nervously, “Anything at all then don’t be with Jean, I’ll treat you so much better and we can do all the things you want like go on dates and I’ll get you flowers—“

“What are you suggesting?” You finally ask.

“I have a proposition.” He smiles, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Another one?” You laugh.

“Yeah, how about we make this a thing?” He points between the two of you before resting his hands on your waist once again.

“A thing?”

"Yeah, me and you, boyfriend and girlfriend, a thing."

Thank you for reading, if you enjoyed likes and reblogs are appreciated & requests for Eren Jaeger are open for more <3

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