#JeanKirstein

[luigitaa]

THREAD about Jean showing empathy

My twt TL was filled with Jean discourse yesterday so I decided to write a thread to honor him because I love him.

First in his OVA we see how he takes care of his sick mom. This is from the time we've only known Jean as a the selfish spoiled boy. Plus, we noticed his goodness comes from her mom, she's always been supportive of him.

In Trost he leads the scouts and shows concerns for the safety of his comrades at all times.

He's the most vocal about rejecting Levi's idea of killing people.

He doubts when it's time for him to do it.

Jean conforts Armin after his harrassment😭

He shows empathy for Reiner even after everything they went through🥺

He's squad leader now and orders to keep civilians casualties at minimum

Fails on purpose in order not to kill Falco.

Once he's safe in Liberio, the first thing he asks about is how many soldiers were lost.

Even though he's desperate bc Sasha was shot, he still rejects Floch's proposal of killing Falco and Gabi.

Of course, he rejects Floch's 2nd proposal of a good life in the interior because he chooses the path of saving humanity just like the first time.

He forgives Reiner🥺

He understands how hard this decision is for Mikasa and validates her by talking to her directly about it. My jeankasa heart I can't😭💞

I don't know if anyone cares about this thread but I needed to express my love for this character. Of course some things about Jean's story were left out. Those will be for another time👀

[hearts4jean]

✧°🍒‧｡𖦹°‧💋‧°𖦹 ｡‧ 🍒°✧

- jean - lipstick - aot verse -

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Jean would spoil you a lot like hes the boyfriend/husband ever like how couldn’t he, he loves you too much. Hes aware that you're not very fond of lipstick other than wearing it for specific occasions as you dont believe it looks very flattering on you; but let me tell you this mf has definitely giggled and blushed at the thought of you in a sheer darkish red lip. He would've bought a whole set of lipsticks at Marley while working as a spy, and kept them with him this whole time and promised himself to give it to you if you guys survived. (think those really pretty golden case lipsticks from the 50s shehhrbddh)

His selection process would be merely based off the analogy of: If you kissed him on the cheek, and the lipstick will visibly transfer and really noticeable, it’s perfect. He loves making it known that he is yours and let everyone know that you’ve been kissing him prior (and to also rub in the fact to reiner that hes in a relationship and hes not). He decides to give them to you on the day you were all getting your photos taken for the history books as ambassadors. Initially, you try to turn them down, not because you hate them but because they seem so elegant and seem fit for a person who is much more put together; given the golden casing of the cosmetics and high quality.

Jean insists and sits you down at a nearby stool/arm chair, kneels in front of you and grabs a shade out of the collection he has been longing to see you in. The box of lipsticks have been with him for so long, giving him time to decide which one he thinks you would look best in. He would do the thing where he holds your chin gently and applies said lipstick onto your lips. When the application is complete, he gives you a small smile as you laugh together. When you guys walk in where everyone else is as they have been all waiting for the both of you, attention is instantly drawn to the dark red on Jean’s cheek and dark red stain on his white collar (how did that get there !!)

This observation is self explanatory as the same hue of red was painted on your lips. Connie being the hype man that he is instantly runs up to Jean, slapping him on the back in a joking sense "Jean-Boy's all grown up aren’tcha!”, showing that regardless of the atrocities you all have seen, Connie is still able to keep up at that funny supportive composure alongside Jean.

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[loverboykirstein]

a goddamn angel /// kinktober pt. 2

jean kirstein x afab!reader

wc: 7,624

mdni -> warnings: drinking, mentions of verbal abuse

***“I don’t wanna let Reiner down,” you couldn’t help but sigh, twiddling the fringe on the hem of the skirt of your bright red dress, definitely too short. “I promised him,”. 

“No like,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Like going to this together,”. ***

****

“Are we really doing this?” Jean asked with hesitant eyes, fiddling with his keys. 

It had been three weeks since Eren dumped you out of the blue, without rhyme or reason. You hadn’t seen him, hadn’t seen anyone but Jean, Connie, and Sasha since. 

He had the decency to drop you off at the apartment first, not leaving you stranded in the early October rain. 

He hated the fact that you shared an apartment with boys, let alone Jean. He was indifferent about Connie, thinking he was just in his own little world all of the time. 

Eren never gave Connie or Sasha the recognition they deserved, only bothering to know them on a surface level. 

He never understood that your relationship with Jean was the same as his with Mikasa. Relationships from childhood, brought along to college. 

Sure, you felt threatened by her on the regular. Her responses cut short when you were close to Eren, her eyes full of hatred. She was completely different before she found out, and the two of you even grew quite close with you from the moment you met. 

In minutes, she wanted nothing more than to have you dead on the sidewalk.  

You knew they had grown up together, but you always thought it was more of a sibling thing, and less like a lovers thing. 

Maybe I’m just really bad at interpreting relationships? 

But Reiner wanted to host the party for once, Armin handing him the reins just this once. He had been gushing about this Halloween party, equipped with games, candy, booze, and was hoping for a real DJ. 

You all agreed to be there as soon as he announced it, planning since the end of September. 

“It’s gonna be the coolest shit ever, trust,”. 

Of course, no one else’s plans were complicated, just yours and Eren’s. You hadn’t seen him since, avoiding any interaction that he could possibly be at.

Jean always knew you best, growing from booster seats to tequila shots, scraped knees and student loans. You always joked that you were meant to find each other in every universe, as friends. 

“I don’t wanna let Reiner down,” you couldn’t help but sigh, twiddling the fringe on the hem of the skirt of your bright red dress, definitely too short. “I promised him,”. 

“No like,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Like going to this together,”. 

Jean never agreed to go to this party, thinking it was ridiculous and would much rather sit and hope trick-or-treaters would come by in their odd-fitting costumes. 

All it took was a few pleas, and a week's worth of dinners to convince him to go, and pretend you were together, if Eren caused trouble. 

It wasn’t strange for the two of you to be attached at the hip, bickering and laughing at decade long inside jokes. For you to team up on Connie and Sasha, an everlasting prank battle present. 

You had drifted a little with Eren in the middle, building walls against your will. Keeping you out of the house, checking your phone all the time, throwing a tantrum when the two of you were together. 

Slipping apart, afraid to be so close, thinking Eren would take it the wrong way. Two hot-tempered, confident men constantly at each other’s throats, was enough to send you into premature heart failure. 

It was constant tension, constant stress. You don’t know why Eren asked you out, maybe just to prove a point to Jean that he could get anything he wanted, and Jean couldn’t. 

Even though things weren’t like that between you and Jean, everything was platonic, nothing more. Yes, your parents joked that the two of you would end up married one day. Yes, your parents had taken Jean on your summer vacation after graduation. Yes, you spent nearly every holiday with his family and yours. It’s normal. 

“We always go places together,”. You mumbled again, knowing what he meant. Was he really going to play the part? Is this going to fail miserably? 

“You know that’s not what I mean,”. He fixed his hair in the rearview mirror, an anxious habit of his. 

“Listen, it’s only if Eren causes shit, or he’s with someone,”. You shrugged, eyes kept down. “Otherwise you’re free to roam, and we can leave whenever, okay?”. 

“Fine, but remember what you owe me,”. He pointed his finger at you, poking your cheek. Maybe I’m the only one overthinking this. Maybe I’m the one who doubts this. 

“Yes, yes I know. You still need to make me that list, otherwise it’s not gonna happen,”. You flashed him a quick smile before pushing his truck door open, hopping down onto the sidewalk. The truck was at an awkward height, a diy lift kit that wasn’t installed quite right. 

Do we need to play the part from the start? Are Sasha and Connie going to be able to remember what’s going on based on the scenario? 

This was a terrible fucking idea. 

“C’mon, stupid,”. He met you on the sidewalk, throwing his arm around your shoulder. “Quit overthinking,”. 

“I am not overthinking, thank you very much,”. You leaned into his side, thankful for the warmth he provided against the frigid breeze. A classic devil costume, too short for the end of October. He refused to buy a costume, using clothes he already had. 

“I’m a cowboy. Be thankful I’m even wearing this,”. 

“Where’s the hat?” 

“Ain’t happening,”. 

Minimal effort, not thrilled with the idea of showing up in the first place. He didn’t like crowds, didn’t like loud noises. This was his own personal hell, but he couldn’t say no to you. 

“I call bullshit,”. The door was already open, strobe lights flashing and music way too loud. 

There were far more people than expected crowding the entryway, stumbling in their cheap overpriced costumes. You felt too many eyes on you, on Jean’s arm around you. 

“FINALLY,” Reiner pulled both of you into a hug, his face flushed and completely overbearing. “C’mon,”. He tugged your hand, dragging the both of you behind him to his basement. 

His strides were fast, nearly tripping as he walked down the stairs two at a time. 

You were greeted with friendly faces, mostly. Sasha and Connie both waved, nearly jumping up and down. We saw you guys earlier today? 

Armin gave you a small wave with a raised eyebrow, Jean’s arm somehow pulling you closer at the bottom of the stairs. 

You saw Mikasa sitting on Eren’s lap, matching vampire costumes with her lipstick on his neck. 

Her eyes were violent, condescending, sending a shock down your spine. You had never had her look at you that mean, even when you were attached to Eren’s hip for weeks. 

You swallowed your self-consciousness, knowing what the night was going to entail. Lying. Confused glances. Attempted sabotage all around. Lying. Lying. Lying. 

“You okay?” Jean lowered himself to your ear, whispering while holding eye contact with Eren, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Mhm, now pretend like you don’t hate my guts,” you rolled your eyes at him, forcing yourself to look at him just a little longer than you usually would. 

Sasha waved you over, patting the seat next to her. You urged Jean to follow, finally breaking the eye contact you were worried was going to last forever. 

You sat next to her on the couch, Jean slipping between you and the armrest. A little squished, you decided to somewhat rest your back against her, enough to allow you to lay your legs in his lap. 

You kept your legs shut tight, his hands immediately resting on your exposed legs. Mindlessly rubbing his hands up and down them as he locked in conversation with Reiner, pulling goosebumps to the surface. 

“Someone is not very happy tonight,” Sasha whispered in your ear, trying to hold back a laugh. 

“Doesn’t really make sense, I don’t know why she’s mad at me,”. You made sure to not even look in their direction, pretending you were invested in Reiner and Jean’s conversation. 

“I don’t get it either, but I know you’re under Eren’s skin. Son of a bitch hasn’t spoken a word since you got here,” she shrugged, moving you with it. “Drink?” She stood, forcing you to support yourself uncomfortably. 

“Please,” you batted your fake eyelashes up at her, pulling her warm smile out in a matter of seconds. 

Did she tell Niccolo about this? Can I trust him if I tell him the truth? 

“I missed you stupid, where were you?” Reiner tossed the piece of plastic he was fiddling with at you, knocking you out of your momentary stare. 

“I got really sick,” you sighed, trying your best to play the part. “Then I was crazy behind, it was a whole mess. Promised you I’d be here though,”. You flashed him a soft smile, throwing the piece back at him. 

Really? That’s the best you could think of?

You two were relatively close, like siblings that pretended not to get along. You bullied each other relentlessly, deep down caring for each other more than either of you would actually admit. 

You knew he was confused, his eyes flashing between you, Jean, and his hands on your legs. 

You held back a shiver as his hands subconsciously rose, nearly reaching the seam of your dress. He seemed unbothered, like it truly was natural. 

You were a mess. 

Why is this getting to me now? We’re friends. Best friends. This is just a show, a play, a skit. 

What do we do after this, though? 

Fuck, great fucking job thinking ahead. 

“Here,” Sasha handed you a solo cup, filled way too high and probably three-quarters liquor. 

She slid back into her spot, a tight fit between you and Niccolo. Conversations went on as usual, distracting yourself with Bertholdt and Annie, surprised they were so talkative. 

You felt searing glares on your exposed shoulder, some from Eren, most from Mikasa. 

I don’t understand what her problem is? She got what she wanted?

“Are we gonna sit here all night, or are we gonna occupy that empty table?” Connie stood, drunkenly grabbing everyone’s attention. “Y/N, Jean, Sash, c’mon,”. 

He waved you all on, walking through all of you. A few familiar faces were scattered about, most of which you couldn’t really remember. 

You looked at Jean, shrugging your shoulders before swinging your legs back on the ground. Attempting to fix your skirt before you stood, Sasha insisting on holding your hand. 

Drink in one, Sasha’s in the other. 

“Can you hold this real quick?”. You practically shoved your cup at Jean, who had somehow acquired a beer when you weren’t paying attention. He grabbed it without mention, giving you the second you needed to hold your skirt down as you were drug to your feet by an eagerly drunk Sasha. 

You felt like your heartbeat was quite literally in your throat, mouth dry and hands clammy. Jean’s eyes lingered a little too long on your thighs, barely covered in the costume Sasha forced you to wear. 

She was the angel, you were the devil. Figures. 

Of course, her skirt was longer, white tights underneath. 

As Sasha drug you towards the table, you looked back at Jean to wave him on. He blinked his eyes hard a few times, before standing and offering Reiner to come watch, and to mediate. 

The two of them walked over together, still conversing about god knows what. 

Sasha and Connie held the far side of the table, eyes on the two of you, and everyone behind you. 

You could only see them and the wall, Niccolo and Reiner on the side. You knew everyone was watching, Jean handing you your cup back. 

“You guys are SO DEAD,” Connie bragged as he rolled one of the orange balls down the table, giving it to you for the eye-to-eye beginning. 

The two of you always did it, tradition since you got your learners permit. You held the ball between your fingers, eyes glued to Connie’s. You tried to make each other laugh, before Reiner told you two to ‘knock it off already’. 

You made it, Connie’s bounced off the rim of the first cup, throwing his hands in the air. 

“Good job,” Jean wrapped his arm around you again, kissing the top of your head. 

What? We’re taking this this far? 

You pretended to be fine, leaning your head against him while Connie rolled the ball back to you. 

Jean always went first, you always went last. Afraid your rhythm would be off after spending so many weeks playing with Eren, then not playing at all. 

It took a few rounds to get your rhythm back to where it once was, dominating the table. You hadn’t done it since the summer, his hand on your lower back whenever it wasn’t your turn. 

“Were next,” you heard the all-familiar brooding voice grow louder behind you, nearly bumping into Jean’s shoulder. 

“We are not done,” Sasha bit at him, drunk enough to give anyone attitude, and you always loved it. 

The cup Sasha poured you now empty, Jean sinking the last cup on the table. Following him, you did the same, completely forgetting that it meant you would have to be across a table from the two people you wanted to see the least. 

“Refill?” Sasha asked while Connie threw his usual fit, aligning the cups back to their original position. Her eyes were wide, panicked for your sake. 

“Please,” you drug it out a little, sighing. 

“Jean? You too?” She asked balancing your cup and hers in one hand. 

“Just water or a soda, I already had one and I gotta drive later,”. 

She looked confused, knowing the two of you usually stayed the night, getting plastered until the sun came up. 

Time felt as it slowed to a crawl, Eren and Mikasa glaring at you just a few feet away. Sasha returned with drinks after what felt like an eternity, standing closeby, refusing to leave your side. 

Keep it together, keep it together, keep it together. 

Mikasa rolled the ball down to you wordlessly, lining up the same way Connie did. You waited for Reiner’s command, both of you holding the most painful eye contact of your life. 

You made it. 

She didn’t. 

“Fuck yeah, baby,”. Jean kissed your cheek, pulling you into a side-hug that was just a few inches from a nearly suffocating real one. 

Baby? 

“Since when has this little fling been going on?” Eren pointed between the two of you before tossing the ball hard enough for it to bounce directly off the table. 

“Could ask you the same question,” you crossed your arms, shifting your weight to the left. 

“It’s none of your business,” Mikasa snapped at you, bitterness making your jaw ache. 

“What I do is none of your damn business either, then,” you spit back, before Jean grabbed the back of your dress to pull you back, enough to settle you down a bit. 

“Don’t feed into her bullshit,” Jean whispered as he cleaned the ball off on his jeans, just loud enough for you to hear. 

He’s right. Be the bigger person. Just for a little while longer. 

You watched as he silently went, jaw clenched as tight as the night you came in crying after Eren dumped you. 

He wasn’t nice, accusing you of too many things, that you were the problem and he couldn’t take it anymore. 

You weren’t upset about him leaving, the words he spat with a raised voice and flailing hands was what pulled hysterical sobs out of you for hours as the three of them coddled you in the living room. 

He made it, stepping out of the way so you could go. Missed. Fuck. 

“It’s okay,” Jean’s hand was glued to your back once again as if it was second nature. 

“All worked up or something?” Eren snickered, standing as he picked up the ball you threw that ended up on the floor. 

He missed. 

Jean scoffed under his breath, making Eren’s face run hot. Mikasa missed, rolling her eyes. 

Back and forth, somehow keeping the lead. You didn’t know how, hands shaking with sheer anger at every single comment. Each response that you wanted to snap back with you kept gathered in your chest, seeping into your bloodstream. 

You sunk the last one, beating them by 2 cups. 

“This is fucking bullshit, there’s no fucking way,” Eren raised his voice, Mikasa placing her hand on his chest to try and settle him. “Can’t believe we lost to a whore and her boy of the week,”. 

Excuse me? What the fuck did you just say? 

The room fell silent, eyes glued to the hot-headed red-faced boy leaning over the table. 

“What the fuck did you just say about her?” Jean ran his tongue across his top teeth, seething.  

“I said, I can’t believe we lost to a whore and her boy of the week,”. He had a smirk on his face that made you want to tear the skin right off of him, muscles torn, bones exposed. 

“Eren? What the fuck?” Sasha stood next to you, a step forward. 

“Yeager what the hell?” Reiner’s bloodshot eyes swung over to him, genuinely confused. 

“As if you weren’t fucking her the whole time we were together,”. The statement slipped out before you could stop it, blinded by the sheer audacity. Shut up, shut up, shut up. 

Mikasa’s face ran hot, flushed. 

“Oh my god, you actually were?” Sasha asked, completely dumbfounded. 

“I-as if you weren’t fucking him too,” she scoffed, voice cracking. 

“Unlike some people, I really value fidelity,”.  Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up. 

Words were falling out of you faster than you could catch them, eyes glued open. 

“Y/N, hush,” Jean grabbed your hand, interlocking fingers, hoping to hold you back. 

You watched as they tried to collect their words, stumbling. 

“Hope you enjoy sloppy seconds,” Eren spat again, the only words he could seem to find. 

“At least he makes me finish,” you leaned over slightly to make the words sting a little more, replacing your tight jaw with a smirk, just brutal enough for it to sink into him. 

“Want me to show you how? She makes really pretty noises,” Jean played into your blatant lie, nearly everyone’s jaw on the floor. Even the people you didn’t really know were holding their breaths, not wanting to miss a single word. 

“You goddamn son of a bitch, I’ll kill you,” Eren seethed through gritted teeth, all color in his eyes disappearing with each syllable. 

“Someone’s awfully jealous over a girl they dumped. Was two girls not enough for you?” Jean laughed, pulling you in front of him so your back was completely pressed against him. His arms wrapped around you, acting as casual as possible. 

Eren battled for words, stuttering out loud as Mikasa gave him a confused glance. 

“Don’t tell me he told you that I dumped him,” you tilted your head to the side, pouting at her with eyes that held nothing but light and humility. 

“That’s what he told us,”. Reiner shrugged, not quite absorbing the hostility plaguing the air. 

“Once a liar, always a liar,” Jean drug his words out, taunting. 

“As if you two aren’t lying about being together. You two just suddenly show up happy as ever. I call bullshit,”. Eren was scrambling for anything he could use against you. 

Wordlessly, as if it was second nature, Jean pulled you to his side, leaning down towards you. 

He pressed his lips against yours, hand rested on the side of your face. You did the same, falling into it. 

It was longer than it should have been, sending every single emotion known to man straight to the heat between your legs. 

What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On. 

“I don’t think friends do that,” a bystander tuned in, jaw nearly on the floor. The short girl next to him was equally as stunned, as if they’d never seen affection before. 

Pulling away, he rubbed his thumb against your bottom lip, before offering you a wink. Turning back to a dumbfounded Eren, he stood there waiting for a response. 

“Cat got your tongue? You can come back and watch us later, it seems like you’re into it,”. Jean’s ego was the highest you’d ever seen it, and it was really fucking hot. 

“Eren, we should just go,”. Mikasa stuttered, flustered and frustrated all at the same time. 

“No, I’m just getting started with goddamn horseface over here thinking he’s better than me,”. He slipped away from Mikasa, letting his rage drive his body. 

“Sash,” Jean nodded to her, letting her take your hand and ensuring you weren’t left alone. 

“Are you doing this just to fuck with me? Huh?” Eren pushed Jean’s chest as he walked forward, both taller and stronger than Eren. 

“Why would we give you that time of day you fucking moron,”. Jean’s presence alone made Eren step back, stopped by the wall behind. 

It was the first time you had ever seen Eren scared. The first time Jean wasn’t yelling back, not feeding into the childish energy Eren always radiated when he was angry. 

“Why don’t you let us know why you’re just so jealous, Yeager. Let us know why you’re so jealous over  a girl you dumped. Enlighten us, please,”. The smile on Jean’s face was unsettling, he’s having way too much fun with this. 

“I just got with her to piss you off! Fine, I fucking said it!” He threw his hands up, pleading that Jean wouldn’t retaliate. “It was just a game, I- couldn’t tolerate her bullshit long enough to make you break,”. 

Jean’s hand gripped Eren’s collar, slamming him into the wall, about to open his mouth. 

“You just fucking used me? Are you fucking kidding me?” Sasha physically held you back, vision turning red. Tunnel visioned and ears ringing, hearing the words you suspected were true the whole time. “You couldn’t deal with my bullshit? You were sleeping with her the whole time! You told me I was the problem!” 

“Y/N, stop,” Sasha tried to hold you back, to shut your mouth. 

“Was the screaming part of the game? Was scaring me away from my friends part of the game? Treating me like shit part of the game? Please, do share, you pathetic piece of shit,”. You weren’t even sure what you were saying anymore, burning the back of your throat on the way out. 

“You’re gonna pay for this. You thought your lies wouldn’t catch up to you huh?” His grip tightened, knuckles white.  

“You will never hurt her again. You will never come near her again, do you fucking understand?” 

Shoving him harder, enough to knock the wind out of him, Jean repeated his question, much louder. 

“Do you fucking understand Yeager?!” 

“Yes, yes fine, just fucking let me go,”. Eren tried to squirm free, before Jean released his collar with his eyes glued on you. 

“We’re leaving,” he grabbed you by your waist, picking you up enough so he could  swing you in front of him. 

He didn’t let you fight it, nor did you want to. 

That was a fucking disaster. 

Why did I think this was a good idea? 

Practically pushing you out the door, he unlocked his truck and lifted you up directly into your seat. He slammed the door, ushering around to his side and immediately kicking the engine on. 

“Here,”. He pulled your phone out of his back pocket, holding it so you wouldn’t need to bring a bag. 

“Jean, you didn’t have to d-”. 

“Yes, yes I did,”. He sighed, putting the truck in drive, anxiously running his fingers through his hair. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, more of a whisper and less like a question. 

“Are you?” He placed his hand on your thigh, like he was still playing the part. 

You didn’t fight it, craving something, someone to hold you down. 

“I-I don’t know?” You fidgeted with your fingers, eyes glued to his hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles on your skin. “I mean, he never really seemed to actually like me, so,”. 

Your voice trailed, feeling sickened with embarrassment. Why did I stay with him in the first place? Why did I get with him in the first place? 

You saw him nod his head out of the corner of your eye, biting his lip to hold whatever words he wanted to say back. 

A silent drive, pulling into your empty house. You knew that Connie and Sasha would stay the night, too drunk to drive and too stubborn to pay for an uber. 

You texted them to let them know you were okay, and to not worry about anything, to try and have a good time. Locking your phone and setting it on your lap, eyes glossed over. 

“C’mon,”. He put the truck in park, waiting for you to unbuckle your seatbelt. He pulled his hand away from your thigh, leaving you cold with a vacant chest cavity. 

You walked into the house wordlessly, your body pressed against his as the breeze picked up and your hands began to freeze. 

Kicking your shoes off right by the door, you immediately went and slumped over on the couch, head in your hands. 

I think I just messed everything up. 

Eren really was using me. 

How did I not see that coming? 

Why didn’t believe it was true that he was using me? 

How is everyone supposed to get along now? 

Reiner’s probably pissed. 

Are things going to be weird between Jean and I now? 

I think I liked that kiss a little too much. 

Why do I always fuck everything up. 

“It’s okay, everything’s okay,”. Jean sat down next to you, leaving no space between you. He pulled your legs into his lap, just like you were on the worn out couch in Reiner’s basement. 

Resting your head against him, you let your body collapse against his. Two college kids in ridiculous costumes, staring at a blank TV screen in an empty house. 

What a way to spend my last college Halloween. 

His hands held you close, one crawling up your side, under the hem of your dress. It wasn’t meant to be like that, but it made your insides twitch. 

Be so fucking for real right now, are you insane? 

We can handle this later in the shower. Calm down. 

“Hey um-” Jean took a deep breath, you rising as his chest expanded. “I’m sorry if that was too much, I got carried away an-” 

“I liked it,”. Your face ran hot, words spilling out before you even registered your thoughts.

Do I lack fucking critical thinking skills? 

What in the goddamn world am I saying? 

“You did?” 

All you could do was nod, too embarrassed yet knowing it was far too late to hide what you had spilled. 

“Good,” his hand ran up your thigh just a little more, hand fully rested on your ass like it was nothing. 

HUH? 

You both sat there in silence, tension flooding the room like wildfire. It was hard to breathe, your head was becoming a mess, hundreds of thoughts running through it faster than the speed of light. 

Your hand that was once cradled against your chest had found its way to the back of his neck, running your nails through the base of his now slightly unkempt mullet. 

“Do you, um-” his voice was shaky, cheeks flushed. You had never seen him so nervous before, always hiding it behind a false smile and loud jokes. 

“Do I what?” You batted your eyelashes up at him, having a feeling you knew what he was going to ask. 

“I- uh, fuck,”. He bit his lip, avoiding your eyes. 

“Yes,” you whispered against his neck. 

You knew there was no going back after what had happened, where his hands had been. The way he kissed you, the way he defended you. 

His eyes turned wide, unblinking. Like he was in shock, heart running a million miles an hour. 

Forcing himself to gather his thoughts, he pulled you up onto his lap, your legs now on either side of him. 

“Are you sure about this?” Your fingers were still running through his hair, shaky and riddled with anxiety. 

He has to be playing a trick on me, right?

As if he was going to die if he waited any longer, he pulled your hips closer with one hand, your head closer with the other. 

You melted into each other, bodies becoming one. It was messy, it was breathless. You moved in unison, your DNA intertwined.   

Your hips rolled against him, feeling him grow harder by the second. Fuck, he’s big. 

“Yours or mine,” he pulled away for a moment in time, craving so much more of you. 

“Yours,” you mumbled through a half broken kiss, unwillingly to let him go. 

He stood up, letting you wrap your legs around him. How he did it so effortlessly, you weren’t sure, too clouded in lust to try and figure it out. 

With rapid steps, he shoved his door open, just to slam it closed behind you. With his hand on the back of your head, laying you down below him, head on his pillow. 

Before the clock could tick another second, his lips were on yours again, tugging on your bottom lip. Leaving them cold and glossy, he trailed his lips down your neck, nipping you with his teeth every so often. 

It pulled a giggle out of you each time, the scruff that littered his jawline tickling against your skin. 

“You can mark me,”. Your words were breathy, hard to push out past your racing heart. 

Following those four words, he sunk his teeth into the side of your neck, sucking your skin to break as many blood vessels as he could, telling your veins his name.  

You couldn’t keep count of how many marks he left on you, the aftermath not even remotely present behind your eyes. 

He ran his hands down your body, pulling your dress up as he ran them back up. The air was frigid against the heat he had created in a few minutes time, goosebumps littering your skin once again. 

Your glossy eyes met his, both desperate for so much more, waiting for the other to initiate. 

You grabbed his hand, eyes still locked with his, guiding it down your stomach slowly, resting it on top of your clothed cunt. You could feel the slick soaking through, and you knew he could too. 

His eyes widened, mouth slightly agape. You nodded your head, waiting for him to fill the ache that had grown so quickly inside. 

With permission granted, he dove his hand under the waistband of your underwear, biting his lip as he ran his middle finger down your slit. 

“F-fuck you’re so wet,” he stuttered, drawing gentle circles around your clit. 

It drew light whimpers out of you, needing more, now. 

“More,” you muttered through a bitten lip, whining. 

Before you could finish, he dove his middle finger inside you, causing you to arch your back and the air to be sucked out of your lungs. 

He pumped in and out of you slowly, pressing his lips against yours, absorbing the whimpers that crawled up your throat. 

He slipped another in, curling up and brushing against the spot you needed him to abuse. 

You pulled one of your hands away from his hair, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down his zipper with a few fluid movements. 

Pressing your hand against his hardened length, feeling him shudder with your touch. Even with his boxers still holding a barrier, you could feel how long he was, how heavy he was. 

His pace sped up, drawing the ties of an orgasm closer together. Please, please, please. 

“Please,” you begged through minimal breaks in space between your lips. 

“Please what,” he drug his fingers out of you, brushing your clit on the way up. 

“I need- I want more,”. Your eyelids were low, pupils huge. One strap of your dress had slipped off your shoulder, begging to be taken off. 

You watched him place the fingers that were just inside you in his mouth, eyes locked on yours. 

“Fucking hell,”. He tilted his head back, unbuttoning his shirt as fast as he could. 

You’d seen him shirtless before, but not like this. A slight sheen of sweat, muscles tight, chest heaving. His v-line deep, nearly making you crumble as he tossed his shirt on the floor. 

A little more awkward than he planned, he slipped his jeans off, tossing them out of the way. 

With anxious fingers, he pulled your underwear off in one pull, taking in your glistening cunt with wide, lovestruck eyes. 

He reached behind you and undid the zipper, pulling the cheap fabric off of your shoulders, exposing you entirely. 

You swore his jaw fully unhinged, taking every inch of you in. He ran his hands up and down your sides, cupping both of your tits together, utterly starstruck. 

“Earth to Jean?” You batted your lashes at him again, snapping him out of his clouded stare. 

“Fuck, god you’re so much hotter than I ever could have imagined,”. 

His words were slurred, bringing a rapid flush to your face. 

“I can’t take this anymore,” he slid his boxers off faster than you could register, his fingers finding their place inside you without warning. Your eyes caught a glimpse of him, widening with the single thought of how the fuck is that going to fit? 

He looked up at you, waiting for your eyes to meet his. They were questioning, asking if it was okay to continue. 

You nodded with too much enthusiasm, drunk on the feeling of him, on the hint of his cologne, the lust in his eyes, the gloss on his lips. 

The rest of the world didn’t matter, the only thing that existed in this universe was the man on top of you, pinched brows and disheveled hair, heavy breathing and the stars that surrounded him. 

He spat on his hand, coating his length with a little bit of makeshift lubricant, hoping it would ease his entrance. 

At an achingly slow pace, you felt his tip, dressed in pre-cum, struggle against you. Each centimeter burned, but took your soul out of your body as you slowly felt him filling you up. 

Both of you holding your breath, biting your lip as if you were teenagers who weren’t quite sure what to do. 

You tried your best to relax, slowly stretching to fit as much of him inside as possible. 

You felt him press against your cervix, bottoming out, hips flush against your spread thighs. 

Devoid of oxygen, the sheer size of him pushing out any air you had left trapped inside. Pulling out the harshest gasp, your eyes reaching the back of your head. 

“Oh.. my.. fucking…god,”. He shivered, kicking his head back, swallowing hard. 

You whined against him, needing him to fucking move. Friction, bruising, desperation, and everything in between. 

His motions were slow, cautious. He was being gentle, too gentle for the gnawing cries of your begging core, wanting to unravel at the motions of someone else for the first time in forever. 

His eyes were dark, nearly all color swallowed up by his enlarged pupils, dilated enough to take everything in, keeping the photographs locked in his mind for safe-keeping. 

“J-Jean,” you whined, desperately needing him to speed up, to be harder, to let go of any restraints he was still holding on to. 

“Yes?” His words were caught in his heavy breathing, forgetting how to speak. 

“Harder, p-please,”. It wasn’t like you to beg, to plead so quickly. 

Something about the man you had grown up with side by side, now on top of you, drove you up a wall. You needed him everywhere, never letting go. 

Seeing him in an entirely new light, the sun’s rays illuminating him above you. Seeing him be vulnerable, being so close you were completely intertwined, had your heart carving its way out of your chest to meet his. 

Two words granted him permission to break free from the chains wrapped around him, plowing into you with enough force to snap every bone in your body. 

Pace increasing, slipping in and out with ease by the mess he had created between your legs, spilling onto his emerald green comforter. 

His fingertips leaving bruises on your hips, holding on to you hard enough to never let you go. 

He pulled moans out of you without even trying, babbled curses and whimpers mixed together in a mess of incoherent phrases. 

His guttural, hungry sounds that clouded yours sent you further over the edge, calling your nerves to send shocks down to your fingertips that were leaving bleeding scratches in his back and along his arms. 

You wrapped your legs around him, him pressing a hand on the spot where you felt him crash against you. Watching your brows pinch together, biting your lip so hard you thought it would bleed. 

“Oh is someone close?” His voice was taunting, sticking to your eardrums like honey. 

You nodded, unable to deny your response to the way he filled you up so perfectly. 

He kept pace, hand pushing down hard enough to rupture your core that was aching to break. Spitting nonsense out of your mouth, a mix of curses  and praises and everything in between, colorful spots behind your eyelids. 

Legs shaking enough to almost lose their grip around him, a hummed laugh bubbling in his chest. 

“You do make really pretty noises,”. Your face was flushed, chest moving enough to keep catching his eye with every thrust. 

Never in your life had sex ever felt like this. It always felt like a chore, mediocre at best. Rarely finishing, still feeling vacant. 

You had never felt so warm, so full. Your head so far in the clouds that you were higher than the birds migrating, planes flying to unknown destinations. 

You opened your eyes, their gloss matching your fucked-out face, a devilish flicker behind his eyes. 

“Does my baby have more in her?” He was a completely different man, no longer nervous or worried about hurting you. 

You nodded, never wanting this feeling to end. Never wanting him to leave, never wanting to feel empty ever again. 

“Be a good girl and flip over for me,”. He pulled out of you quicker than you imagined, making you whine with frustration at the momentary lack of warmth. 

Burying your face in his pillow, you felt him pull your hips up, supporting your weight on your knees, the rest on your forearms next to you. 

This time he slipped in easily, no resistance but still tight enough to make him curse under his breath. 

Running his fingers through your hair, he pulled you up towards him, grasp tight on your scalp. 

“You’re mine now, understand?” He was serious, not just playing a role. Words heavy against your neck, your spine aching at the angle he was drilling into you at. 

All you could do was nod your head, airways cut short as the grip on your hair tightened. 

Pushing you back down, thumbs in the small of your back for stability. Fistfulls of bedding saving the palms of your hands from the pressure of your nails, muffled cries into his pillow. 

Your legs trembled as he brushed against the spot your body was begging for him to abuse, hitting harder as you pushed back, arching your back as much as you could. 

“Already? You dirty, dirty girl,” he clicked his tongue, speeding up. One hand dipped below, fingers repeating circles on your swollen clit, sending you over the edge in seconds. 

You could barely keep yourself up, bones turned to mush as you came all over him for a second time in minutes. His fingers never stopped, his pace never faltered, ensuring you rode out your high all over him. 

You felt him twitch inside you as you throbbed around him, tightening as your moans became nothing but strings of cries and whimpers, repeating his name like a broken record. 

“Are you gonna be a really good girl and do one more for me?” He leaned over, kissing your shoulder and you nodded your head. 

You lacked the capacity to think, the ability to form a coherent sentence. 

He pulled out of you again, leaving you confused and a whining mess. 

“C’mere, it’s your turn sweetheart,”. He helped pull you onto his lap, straddling him. Just like you began, a lot less clothing involved. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, the only thing your brain could manage was the phrase ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy,’ on repeat, watching his face slightly twist in confusion. 

Supporting your still shaking body on the headboard with your weak hands, you lowered yourself onto him as slow as you could, watching his eyes roll back instead. 

By the force of gravity, he somehow pushed deeper, bruising you on impact. 

Using any strength you had left, you rode him like your life depended on it, the sounds he created enough to give you a second wind. 

Muttering nonsense, hands wandering anywhere and everywhere, eyes glued to the sight of him sliding in and out of you. 

You tightened around him on purpose, watching him shudder and feeling him twitch inside you. 

His nails desperately clawing at your skin, forcing you to hold back your urge to snap again. 

“Fu-fuck I’m-”. He couldn’t piece his words together in time, feeling him lose control inside you. 

The warmth tipped you over, barely able to keep going as your eyes were glued to his face. 

Jaw tight, head kicked back enough to see him struggle to breathe, eyebrows pinched together harder than you’d ever seen. 

Broken breaths, caught in the way of his unraveled nerves taking over his body. 

“Oh…my god,”. You muttered, trying to catch your breath, weight fully supported by your grip on the headboard, knees completely useless. 

He pulled your face closer to his, kissing you gently this time. 

It wasn’t messy, wasn't urgent. It was loving. 

Your heart fluttered at the contrast, innocently brushing lips as he was still inside you. 

“You-You are fucking insane,”. He huffed through a dumbfounded laugh, shaking his head. 

“What do you mean?” You pretended to be offended, unable to hold back a smile. 

“I-fucking hell. Um-”. His face flushed in embarrassment, confidence disappearing with a drop in adrenaline. 

“Use your big boy words,”. You taunted him, slightly moving your hips that were still in control of him. 

“You- you’re a goddamn angel in the flesh, I swear,”. His statement turned your face bright red, hotter than the sun, the lava under the Earth’s crust. Funny, given the costume I wore, and the acts we just committed. 

“Oh hush it,”. You tried to deflect it, knowing it was the post-sex haze pulling nonsense out of him. He rolled his eyes, knowing you were going to do that, squinting at you. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,”. You raised your hips, him falling out of you, followed by a mix of his orgasm and yours spilling out onto his bedding. 

“Fuck I’m sorry I-” 

“We’ll throw it in the wash, it's no big deal,”. He ruffled your already messed up hair, laughing at your panicked apology. 

He carried you to his bathroom, which was really just a few steps. He turned the faucet on in the bath, setting you down on the toilet right next to it. 

“I’ll be right back, okay?” 

You nodded, taking the opportunity to let the rest fall out of you, preventing a uti while he wasn’t around. 

He just came in us, and you’re panicking about that? 

He came back to feed you cold water, an extra  towel in hand. You had your own shower, but it was upstairs and you both would be damned if you tried to go up them. 

He helped you clean up, cleaning himself too in the process. Holding you steady, peppering gentle kisses all over you. 

Still in a daze, now clouded by steam and his body wash, you could barely process what just happened. 

All you knew was that you were happy. 

You let him dress you in one of his t-shirts, and a pair of his boxers that didn’t fit him right anymore. 

“I’ll wash those tomorrow”. He shrugged, looking at the mess that was his bed. 

Sitting you down on the couch, now just sore and aching, he turned on the tv, switching to the mindless reality tv show the two of you always made fun of. 

Laying next to him, bodies pressed together on the long part of the couch, his legs still hanging off per usual. 

“I meant what I said,”. He mumbled under his breath as you zoned out on the tv. 

“Hm?” 

“I meant what I said,”. 

“What do you mean?” What did he say? At what point of the night? 

“That you’re mine now,”. He was certain, regardless of your answer. Yet still terrified, worried you were going to dismiss him, hearing his anxious heartbeat shaking the earth. 

“Okay,”. You smiled at him, watching his eyes light up with a joy you had never seen. Brighter than a kid on Christmas, brighter than all the stars in the sky. 

Pulling you in for one more kiss, you felt him smile against your lips, gentle and sealing your words together. 

You were his now. 

Our parents were right.

---------------------------------------------------------------

when no one else is there for you, possessive jean k always will. this can also be found on my ao3! i will post links shortly once i get the hang of this whole thing :')

also shoutout to miss girl (my cat) for being my co-author (eating my computer as i write this) and @justwolosers for being my biggest fan.

thanks for stopping by ! my requests are always open, pls pls message me with anything you would like to see <3

[navelluarts]

Bro I told myself I would wait but 🤧

I redrew the Lipstick scene 🧎🏻‍♀️ I was disappointed with the

other one LMAO let’s forget about that one ..

But anyway I was originally going to include this in a *cough* OB art dump that’s closely approaching but I never do as I say lmfaoosooao

I hope you like it Aim 💞

My dumbass forgot to @ her bruh

@akisbrew 😭😭😭

[bbraefairy]

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑, jean kirstein

WARNINGS fem!reader, morning sex, oral n rough sex, spit kink, 18+ characters

word count 2.7k

a/n wrote this in 2021, n wanted to share :) enjoy

✭ .

PART ONE

“Jean,” you laughed as he nuzzled his nose into the crevice of your neck. “That tickles!” you squealed.

“That’s the point, ain’t it? Gosh, your laugh is just as beautiful as you are.”

Jean moves his lips to yours, meshes both together. He traces his tongue along the design of your mouth, his tongue massages yours. His slightly calloused hands trace underneath your tank top, on the flesh of your skin. He feels around your sides, stomach, any expanse of skin he can find; those of which he committed to memory.

Fresh, morning daylight seeped through the windows, the colors and warmth from the sun pooled on the walls of the room. A transparent, crisp wind wafts through the room, making the curtains dance. Additionally, the light carved shadows behind furniture. The linen was downy, the pillowy cotton wrapped in an authentic, comforting scent.

You grabbed a pillow, playfully pushing it against Jean’s face.

“Oh, that’s the game you wanna play?” he’s quick to grab a pillow for himself, thuds you softly.

You chuckled as he hit you with the cushion, “You switch characters so fast.” 

“It’s your fault.” he dodges one of your hits, then lets the pillow bounce on your head.

You both play wrestle for a small while, laughter and fond phases attached. Your body ends up horizontally across the bed, and Jean is on top.

You slide your body off the bed a bit, leading it towards the ground.

He grins softly at you, “Where you goin’, babe?”

“On the floor.”

“Alright, then I’m coming, too.” he slides off the bed with you, and you both gently arrive floor level.

You bring his mouth to clasp with yours once again. His flavor was a subtle salt with fresh breath. Your fingers coil in his ash blond, lush hair. He pulls your thigh up a bit, dragging his hand on the apex of your smooth thigh. 

His lips grace old love marks he stained on your neck, while he creates new ones. He nips, he suckles, he bruises. He pecks under the slant of your jaw, and the firm of your collarbones. He chuckles a loving phrase to you, and your stomach creases in delight. You kiss his forehead, his nose, and you ruffle his hair, which softens his heart.

His kisses develop fervor and sensation. He touches you, running out of places to touch. Like a spool of thread running empty. No matter how much he got of you, he wanted more.

“Hey, are you in the mood?” he husks, his voice hoarse from kissing.

“In the mood for…”

“Sex.”

“On the floor, Jean? We should go back up on the bed—”

“I didn’t know pleasing you was limited to one place.” he says this with a smug, sensual smile.

His once brown, gentle eyes now lingered with a contrast of desire.

You smirk, “Yeah, okay, bossman.”

“Seriously though, can I?” he consents gently.

You assert, “Of course you can. Are you sure you want to do this, too? I want you just as comfortable as I am.”

“I’m good, babe, I’m all good.”

Jean descends, hiking up your shirt. He intersperses affectionate, devoted kisses on your sides. You released a satisfied sound between a laugh and a gasp. He lines patterns down your stomach, taking note of every slope, curve, and blemish your body presents to him. 

Jean kisses the arch of your thighs, then journeys his lips to the inside of them. He scrapes his teeth lightly on your dermis tinting carnal patches of love into your flesh. He feels you writhe slightly, and his low laugh rocks your core.

Then, he catches the fabric of your underwear in between his teeth, drags it downwards. While he does so, he keeps his eyes locked on yours. 

You were flustered.

The underwear is tossed to the side, and Jean doesn’t hesitate to take in your secrecy.

He makes sure you’re looking at him when he speaks.

“I love you like this. Raw, uncovered. Naked, showing me parts of you the world hasn’t seen,” he lightly wraps his fingers around your neck, “You’re absolutely beautiful, do you understand?”

“Yes, I do.”

“That’s my good girl,” he kisses you before releasing his hold around your neck.

“Here, a pillow, so you’re comfy.” he tucks a pillow under your head.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“Spread them for me.” 

You allow him to open your legs, the cool breeze grazing your wet flesh.

“This one’s gonna be rough, but good, nonetheless.” Jean’s voice is dense with passion.

He angles his face towards your heat, giving your damp folds an exasperatingly slow stroke with his tongue. You whimper in protest, your hand nestling in his hair. His tongue brushes against your labias, a moderately rough paired with a fragile tenderness.

One stroke, your body tenses. Two, your breathing changes. Three, your thoughts get frenzied. You lose count of how many times he’s licked you, and now he begins to suck. To him you are like a mango, soft, ripe flesh with a delectable taste. 

“You are the first thing I’ve tasted this morning. No need for breakfast now,” Jean chuckles whimsically, “God, I should do this more often.”

You were warm, honeyed, and damn well addicting… just the way Jean loved you.

“Jean— You’re so good. I want everything you can give me.” your voice goes in and out as you talk.

“You’re gonna get me. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He pulls your hips down harder, his tongue situates in a different angle. While he eats you out, he busies his hands on the length of your thigh. His hand stretches to your mouth, he strokes his thumb on the corner of it, then slips his finger inside of it briefly; allowing you to suck.

“Closer, baby.” you request, and he obeys.

His tongue delves deeper inside of you. He goes in with more pressure and passion with each gesture. Your walls contract, your pupils dilate from the sexual force. He extracts senseless babbles and cut- off moans from you. Your body is saturated in sweat, and every nerve in your nervous system is feeling for Jean.

Your eyes flutter shut due to all of the sensations Jean is installing into you.

“Keep your eyes on me.” he orders, and when you open your eyes, you both get a second of eye contact.

“Perfect. You taste so sweet, I could eat you out for days on end.”

Jean hits a sore spot, which sends a shiver up your spine. You swallow down a noise, biting down on your finger.

To add to it, Jean slides his index finger inside of your heat. He feels around the spongy extent, making sure it was wet enough for his next task. He thrusts in gently, withdraws with a bit more strength. His thumb orients on your swelling clitoris, and your head sinks into the pillow. He finds a pace to both of your liking, then keeps his finger in that rhythm. 

“J-Jean,” you hold down another noise, but he draws it right out of you, “That’s it, just like that. You always know what spots to hit— oh, fuck.”

He puts his tongue back to work, making your nerves overheat. You pull lightly at his hair, your legs close slightly, but he shoves them back open.

Jean encourages, “Let it go, just for me.” 

Your back curves into an acute bend, and the lip between your teeth could have bled if this went on any longer.

“Come on, baby, do it.”

He sits up a bit, kissing you softly while keeping his finger and thumb at work. You grunt into his mouth, and his other available hand intertwines in yours. 

You feel trails of fire in your abdomen. Your pelvis locks, and each and every one of your thoughts and words are smothered by Jean’s pleasure.

You release an inarticulate, impassioned sound in Jean’s mouth, and he kisses you a little rougher through your release.

“There it is, you did so good.” he whispers into your lips, strokes your cheek.

He took his fingers out of you, and tasted you slowly while he gazed in your eyes. He glides a wet finger into your mouth, and though you found it weird tasting yourself, you indulged in the idea. He drags his finger down your bottom lip, parting a gap.

“Open,” you do as he says, then he shoots a small wad of spit into your mouth, then another.

He closes your lips, then seals them with a soft kiss.

“Swallow it, every drop.” 

You gulp down what he gave you with a smile.

Jean can’t find any words to say to you, this always happened after a sexual act. He just stared at you, simply admiring you. He always tried to know what to say, but he never did. Perhaps, that was how it was meant to be.

“Okay, are you up for a shower?” you ease away, but Jean pins you right back in place.

“Not yet. Turn around, bend over, all the way over.”

✭

PART TWO

“Is there anything such as an arch kink? ’Cuz I think I have one.”

He put a blanket under your knees, so you wouldn’t press into the hardness of the floor.

Jean let his fingers trail across the small of your bent back. He pulls down his boxers, puts on a condom. He spits on your wet flesh before getting in position.

“If there isn’t you can make it one. Just between you and I.” you reply with a soft smile.

“You’re precious, I adore you. We’re set for round two, correct?”

“Sure thing, you better rail me sore, Jean.”

“Don’t plan on doing otherwise,”

He turns your body, so you face the sliding mirror closet door in front of the both of you.

“Do me a favor. While I do you, you keep your eyes on us, alright?” he lifts your chin gently to the reflection, and a small shock crosses your expression.

“Are we clear on that?” he repeats.

You respond, “Crystal.”

“Glad to hear it.”

He runs his palms over your ass, affectionately smacks and grabs it, which causes you to squeak lightly. He lets out a deep sigh as he enters your sex from behind. 

You slant your back more into him, so he could get a better leverage. He fits right into you, his hardened strength couples flawlessly with your soft saturation. It was so fresh and your walls were so chaft, you could feel every ridge in his length.

Jean pulls back slowly, and lets out a sharp grunt as he pushes forward. Your flavor is still settling on his tongue, and he is still savoring you. His sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell are all focused on you. 

He gives another lunge, and with each one, he goes in an inch further. His hands trace lazy designs on your back and sides as he goes. The swears, delighted groans, and dirty talk leaking through his clenched teeth makes your mouth run dry. 

You demand, “Rougher.”

He says between strained breaths, “Every time we do this, you get looser, and I like that.”

He directs his tip into a different angle, attempting to get every piece of you that he can. His steady strokes lose pace as he begins to get swept up in lust. His hips rock the perfect force that your sensitive warmth needed. His body ached for your peak, and you throbbed for his breaking point.

A thin film of sweat glistens on his forehead and neck as he puts the work in. Your fingers twine tightly around the blanket beneath you, and you hold a grip so hard, your hands tremble ever so slightly.

You failed at swallowing back a moan, “Jean, you’re really, really deep.”

Your eyes close, and your head tilts back a small degree.

“Your eyes,” he angles your chin to the mirror again, “On us.”

The reflection blurs, as tears of pleasure brim in your eyes. You were not only able to feel your sensual gratification, but Jean let you taste it.

Rough, but good, like he said.

“Damn it, you’re so good in this position. Look at you.” Jean’s gaze catches yours in the mirror.

“Not as good as you,” you rasp, turning your face to him with a teasing facial expression. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, your mouth is bent into a dangerous smirk. “You’re hitting it, and you’re hitting it right where I need you to be.”

“Don’t look at me like that, you fuckin’ tease. Didn’t I tell you to keep your eyes on the mirror?” he roughly (but in no way to harm you, mostly gently), pushes your head back to where he wants it.

You manage to say before your voice breaks into another moan, “You’re cutest when you’re sexually frustrated.”  

He huffs in denial, “Shut up.”

Jean was stubborn, like always, and you loved it.

Jean strikes your best sore area, and he knows by the way you hiss his name.

“Mhmm… right there is where it is.” He concentrates his pressure on your most sensitive spot, thrusting each time with more love.

“Jean, I can’t—I can’t hold it in anymore.”

He whispers with a graveled voice, “I didn’t say you had to, baby. Now, watch yourself as you cum.”

His thumb and index finger play around your mouth once again, tracing the outline of your mouth, and rolling against your tongue.

Your stomach crunches as the orgasm precipitates. The words leaving your mouth are broken syllables, and your mind shatters.

“Shit, Jean.” your face crinkles as you let out your orgasm.

“Atta girl, you look so pretty when you do that.”

Not long after, you feel Jean warm inside of you, and he releases with a low, guttural curse, and a hoarse pronunciation of your name.

“Mine, no one else’s.” he pulls out slowly, then your walls expand and recede in his absence.  

You feel pained, both from Jean, and the fact that he was no longer inside of you.

He decorates your lower back with hot-blooded, but pure kisses. He guides the kisses to the nape of your neck, the slant of your shoulder, the patch of skin behind your ear.

You face him, his half-lidded eyes were always a sign that what you both did, was worth it. His thumb brushes your cheek, his brows knit in confusion.

“You were crying?” he asked gently.

You scoffed, “Tears of pleasure, don’t get cocky.”

“Damn, I got you good. You deserve it, anyway.”

he kisses your cheek and lips sweetly, then smiles at you.

“Spit, right here.” you open your mouth for Jean.

“Again? Nasty.”

He chuckles, and does what you ask of him. He curls his fingers around your throat,  lets one string drip slowly into your mouth. With his eyes set on yours, he loads another mass into your mouth. The way he looked at you made your thoughts nothing but a cluster of black scribbles.

“Let me see,” he presses his thumb on your tongue lightly, over the spit. He rubs the spit on your tongue, then lets you suck his finger as he withdraws. “You have the best mouth to spit in, I swear.” 

You respond, “I know.”

You swallow proudly, and kiss him again.

“Aftercare?” he recommends, kissing your neck tenderly.

“Yup, let’s go.” 

You and Jean get up from the floor, and begin your aftercare routine.

✭ .

available on ao3

[decimejean]

This was for jk week, i forgot post it here 😅

[zuzusexytiems]

here for the ebenezer scrooge-ification of jean kirschtein

[jearmincentral]

Armin and Jean doing “portraits for each other,” and Jean has a beautiful oil based art of Armin at the beach with a sunset and Armin has a cute little stick figure Jean with a smile, dot eyes and and straight lines for the facial hair and some flowers

[angelsdevils]

Echoes Across Paths

Word Count: 337 words No Warnings

Tag List: @reiners-milkbiddies *If you wanna be added to the tag list let me know.*

Master List | Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, in the quiet glow of the evening. Her young eyes widened with wonder as she gazed up at her grandmother. The elder, her face was a map of life’s secrets and tales. The grandmother sat in her rocking chair, knitting slowly glancing down at her grandchild.

“My dear child,” she began, her voice was a whisper yet in the old house, it sounded so much louder, “there exists a tear in the paths of our universe, a rift unseen but deeply felt. A time will come when it calls out to a guardian, someone to mend the seams of destiny.” 

Y/N listened, her heart beating curiously in awe. She had no idea what her grandmother was talking about, but she hung onto every single word.

“You, my dear child, are the chosen one. The universe does not make errors in their selection. She sees the strength in your heart, the courage in your soul, and the unwavering light in your spirit. You, my dear, are a warrior of the mind.”

“But, gram-gram,” Y/N interjected, her voice a mix of confusion, “how will I know? Can I really be like a superhero?” 

Her grandmother rocked back and forth in her chair, with the kindest smiles that held the secrets of the universe, her wisdom born from the years of reading the stars themselves. 

“When the time comes, you will know. The universe will guide you. Remember, what flows in your veins is of those who dreamed, and wanted to make a difference in the world even if it meant being outcasted by the rest of the world. You carry the legacy of soldiers within you, of healers and scholars. You are stronger then you could think.” 

The words of her grandmother lulled her to sleep with a heart full of curious questions. The starts glistened in the sky knowing, that it was only short while before the young girl would make a difference and heal the paths of destiny. 

© [@angelsdevils] all rights reserved. none of my posts or stories should be modified, reposted, etc. I do not own the character or the fanart, but I own the plots of these stories. All fanart goes to their appropriate owners.

[luigitaa]

Entry for the #JeankasaHalloween by

@JeankasaWeeks

Tried a goth/witchcraft kinda thing with hs castes bc I'm obssessed with them lately

[hearts4jean]

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

jean - braiding - modern au -

It is so clear that Jean is a gentleman in case I haven’t made it clear already like a relationship with him would be the most magical epitome ever, you being his first significant other. Sure he’d be a nervous wreck, but it’s so lovely dating him. He’d love doing all that cutesy stuff with you, people around you describe you two as the ‘ideal couple’.

He loves playing with your hair so much whether it’s where you letting him run his fingers through it as you two share a moment while in each others embrace (He’d so play with your hair as you kiss him); even when you rest your head in his lap in case you’re feeling fatigued and gently ruffles your hair (He strokes your hair if you’re asleep to not disturb you too much)

His favourite thing especially is braiding your hair he just finds it so relaxing for the both of you. It’s a skill he’s always had. He utilises it with all the women in his life like his mother, younger sister if he had one, even Sasha at one point. The amount of times he would’ve gotten told off at school for playing with Sasha’s hair as kids by teachers.

Jean always fantasised about braiding your hair too but he didn’t know how to bring it up to you, it seems too sudden and he didn’t really see you have your hair in that style very much. However, he was able to build up the courage to do so as you were getting ready to go out somewhere with him. The only reason he showed up while you were still getting ready was because he accidentally showed up way earlier than planned but this minor mistake all worked out in his favour and yours too in a way.

Jean, sitting on your bed, watches you grumble in the mirror while having your face buried in your palms. He walks up to you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Everything alright, []?”

You turn to him with a glum expression; your phone open on Pinterest, the search bar reading “hair inspo” and the images consisting of the most vile ‘wedding hair styles’ from 2014 with a mix of the most complex styles done with unattainably healthy hair. Even Jean, a man who has limited knowledge about how girls work understands how hideous some of those styles are, snickering at some of them as you mindlessly scroll through them.

“How do you feel about braids?”

“Braids? They’re cute, not really my go-to style but-“

“Let me- Sorry, did I cut you off?”

“No no, you’re fine. What were you going to say?”

“Oh, I was going to say you should let me do your hair.”

-“What?”

“Uhh..”

“Sorry, I sounded off-putting right there. I didn’t mean to. What do you mean by me letting you do my hair?”

“I wanna braid your hair. I MEAN! (That sounds too demanding….) Would you like me to braid your hair? It’s fine if you don’t wanna..it’s..ah cool…”

“You know how to braid hair?”

“Yes!”

- You laugh. “Go for it I suppose, you seem very eager to.”

“Merde! Did I really sound like that..?”

“…”

- “Your silence is doing better harm than good”

“Do you want to braid my hair or not?”

“Yes”

“Hah! There you go sounding eager again!” You burst out laughing, pointing your finger at Jean’s face turning into a light pink.

“[]!!!!”

Eventually you do stop messing around with him and he gets to work. Jean tries to be gentle as possible with you all the time no matter the circumstance. “Sorry, did I hurt you?” And i’d be the slightest tug that was a less careful that he intended it to be. He finds braiding hair to be relaxing for him as it sort of allows him to turn all his attention on 3 pieces of hair and how they are supposed to be crossed over repeatedly until he reaches the ends.

The feeling is mutual between the two of you; you found it to be really calming moment between the two of you, creating a new way for you two to bond together. After this, you find yourself getting your hair braided by Jean a lot more often.

Once he starts to get more skilled, he even starts to spazz up the way he braids your hair to. Like braiding in ribbons or adding smaller braids between sections. Your hair is one of his favourite things about you. Jean appears to be this stupidly cocky guy who enjoys messing around with Connie by tormenting Eren or Reiner and doing dumb teenage boy stuff; well thats what he paints himself to be. Who knew the same person also enjoys braiding hair?

[loverboykirstein]

Black Cherry Lemonade

Jean Kirstein (AOT) x afab!reader

wc: 8575

mdni. warnings. -> drinking, unprotected sex, verbal abuse, mentions of SH, possessive jean

***His drawings had homes on your wall, extra pencils and paper tucked in their own drawer of your desk. 

You two were best friends, nothing more nothing less. 

You always had him, he always had you. ***

**** 

6:48 pm. 

“Hey, do you know where Reiner is?” you whined into your phone, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. A desperate attempt to ease your mind, to know that he was just running late.

“He didn’t show up again?” Jean sighed into the phone, frustrated to be receiving this call once again. It was the third time this month Reiner had stood you up, and Jean was always on the receiving end of your frustration. Always picking you up, always consoling you without question. 

You heard Connie’s profanities muffled in the background, Eren’s voice just as loud as his. Friday night Xbox sessions, shared on their living room TV. You missed spending every weekend with them, cross-faded on their thrifted sectional that barely fit the space. 

The thrifted sectional that each of you tried to clean with a rented steamer, which cost more than the actual couch did. When Connie spilt the dirty water all over the just cleaned fabric, which resulted in Eren throwing a fit, and everyone else doubled-over in laughter. 

But it fit all of you perfectly, yet two spots remained empty for most weekends. You were always missing, Reiner always pulled away in his own world, on the field with his team or traveling for hours for the next big win. 

Football was his pride and joy, you filled his spare time. 

“Ugh, no,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, your elbow digging into your thigh. “Do you know where he is?” Maybe he’s just running late. Just tell me he’s running late. 

“He said he was going out with you so…” his voice trailed, “No, no I don’t. I’m at Connie’s place,”. 

“Lovely,”. The sun was starting to set, and the bench outside of the restaurant you’ve waited on outside for an hour was turning cold. 

You watched as couples walked up the steps to the restaurant your date was supposed to be at. A woman in a knee length ocean blue dress shot you heartbroken eyes, her partner pulling her inside the doors. 

Her wedding ring sparkled under the street lights, her white heels brand new. 

It made your heart tinge and spill through the iron bars leaving indents in your thighs, making a mess between your heels. 

Seeing people madly in love, each with their own story, made you sick to your stomach. 

All you wanted was to be wanted. Every failed date chipped away at that dream, a wish that would never come true. 

“I’ll come get you,” you heard Jean’s keys jingle in the background. “I’ll be there in 5,”. 

It was supposed to be your one year anniversary with him. The past twelve months of your life were spent with him, despite everyone telling you to leave. His reputation was nothing short of a disaster, his personality split beyond repair. 

 You thought things would be different, despite the rumors. Yes, the star quarterback of the university football team was a risk. He wasn’t your type, not in the slightest. 

 But he fell first. He wanted you. Right? 

He asked you out first. You met him the first night Jean drug you to Eren’s house, the one shared with Armin and Connie. Before the sectional was there, just bean bags and pillows making up the living room. Boxes were still in the corners of the kitchen, not a single decoration on the walls. 

It was less than a week after you met Jean, the first person you met on your very first day, that you met the rest of his childhood friends. 

The two of you clicked instantly, paired next to each other from the assigned seating made by your history professor. A tall blonde man who you knew was a veteran, just in the way he stood in front of you. 

You would forever thank him for the randomly assigned seating chart, it was nothing short of a miracle that you were able to seamlessly find the one you knew was meant to be in your life, one way or another.  

Within weeks Jean was your best friend. It was as if your souls had met in every lifetime before this one, a satisfied sigh from the stars that you had found your way together once again. 

He knew your every mannerism,  and finished every sentence. He understood you like the back of his hand, and knew everything there was to know about you. He knew your routine down to the minute, knew your favorite color as if it was his own. 

You shared secrets, had hundreds of inside jokes no one would ever understand. 

He picked you up from every failed date, defended you from anyone who hurt you, gave you the strength to break away from your family. 

He was your best friend. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“Hey, get in before you freeze to death,” he pulled up on the curb outside of the restaurant, rolling down the passenger window. Your outfit choice wasn’t ideal for late November, but you really didn’t plan to be outside for an hour. A tighter black dress with a leather jacket on top, your legs littered in goosebumps. 

Sliding into the passenger seat, Jean already had the seat warmer on for you, The Black Keys on his radio turned down low. 

“Thank you,” you kicked your heels off, pulling your knees to your chest as he peeled off of the curb.

“I’m getting sick of him leaving you stranded,” his knuckles were white on the wheel, creeping up on felony speeds. 

“Jean, slow down,” you pulled your knees closer, forgetting you didn’t have shorts under your dress. 

“Y/N, put your knees down,” his eyes never fell on you, eyes glued to the pavement in front of him. 

You obliged, terrified of the man next to you. You had seen him angry two other times, both times ended up with you bailing him out of county jail for aggravated assault. 

Both times protecting you. 

He didn’t seem angry on the phone, just annoyed that you found yourself in this position yet again. 

Guilt settled into your bones, feeding its way through your bloodstream. 

“I-I think I’m done,” you didn’t dare raise your head, the flashing of street lights would only make your vision blur more. 

“With that piece of shit? Thank fucking god. It’s about damn time,” he huffed, half a laugh creeping up his throat. 

He left tire marks as he nearly drifted around the corner into the all familiar neighborhood you had memorized by heart. One left, one right, second house one the right. That’s where Jean shared a house with Reiner and Bertholdt, and had since the beginning of sophomore year. Now halfway through your senior year, just six months from graduation, you wondered why he decided to renew his lease with them. 

It was one of the few things you didn’t know about him. Why he decided to stay there. Why he didn’t take the spare bedroom with Connie, Eren and Armin. He practically lived there anyways, but you never pried. If he wanted to share he would, and you left it at that.  

With an abrupt stop, you saw Reiner’s truck in the driveway, next to a car you’d seen so many times before. 

Your heart sunk into your stomach, your breathing stopped. It was as if time froze. You didn’t even need to step inside the house, you knew. 

That’s it. I’m done. 

Without another word, you shoved the car door open, bare feet hitting the concrete driveway. Leaving your phone, purse, and shoes behind, you were guided by blinding rage and nothing else. 

Punching in the pin for the door lock, which was installed because house keys always went missing, you swung the door open and left it there. A pair of pink converse were placed perfectly by the door, and a candle was lit in the living room. 

One of Jean’s candles that littered every open space around the house. Reiner didn’t even know where the candles had homes in the stores you and Jean would spend hours in, yet would use them whenever he felt like it. 

Then you heard it. Exaggerated moans, annoyingly fraudulent cries for more. For it harder. Faster. 

Your tongue grazed your top teeth, and you shrugged your jacket off and threw it on the back of the couch. 

You stood in front of the door, the door to the bedroom you had been in more times than you could count. The bedroom that had your things littered about inside. That held pictures from the last year of you two. Trips to the beach, hiking, endless nights spent with friends before you slowly started slipping away. 

As much as you wanted to be wanted, he was tearing you down from the inside out. Stripping you of your identity, clawing away at your self esteem and washing it down the drain. 

And she was inside. The bubbly blonde, who couldn’t even ride roller coasters because she was so small. Who you thought was with the freckled brunette, who you hadn’t seen in weeks. 

Without another thought, you opened the door and stood silently in the doorway. She looked ridiculous next to him, bent over his mattress, feet barely grazing the floor. 

He hadn’t even bothered to undress her, just lifted her skirt and flipped her around. She was nothing but a toy to him, and you wondered when her self-worth had dropped so rapidly. 

“Seems he can’t satisfy you either, can he?” your arms were crossed, your right hip jutted out as you cocked your head to the side, a shit eating grin on your face. 

“I-Y/N, I didn’t- I,” Reiner fumbled through his words, still inside her. 

“Y/N? Reiner I thought you- oh my god,” she squirmed underneath him as if she was trying to break free. 

“So this is what you’ve been doing. Truthfully a great anniversary gift,” you couldn’t do anything but laugh. It hurt, but your suspicions were laid to rest. He was doing what you thought. 

“Y/N he told me you guys were done I- oh my god what the FUCK Reiner?” she broke free from his grip on her waist, pulling her skirt back down and brushing out the creases. 

“Well I was- I just-” he stood there humiliated, undressed and pathetic. 

“Shove it, Reiner,” she grabbed her purse, not bothering to feed her arm through the strap. “Y/N, I’m so sorry I didn’t know oh my-”. 

“Historia, just go, please. It’s not your fault,” you waved her off, even more upset with him than before. 

Not only was he cheating, he was already telling people you were over. And getting pussy wherever he could get it. 

“So, is she the only one?” you looked him up and down, huffing a laugh out at how humiliating he looked. 

The two of you hadn’t fucked since the few times in the very beginning. When you wanted to prove your worth, to be whatever he needed. Your drive had plummeted with your mental health,  blaming it on never being in the mood. Truthfully, he never made you finish, and the steroids were getting to him. And he didn’t know what the word aftercare meant, nor did he take the time to listen. He didn’t understand that he was the reason, and you didn’t either. 

That he was the reason you had become a shell of who you once were, all in the name of something you wanted so badly. 

You had barely seen him for the entirety of the fall, as football took up all of his time, and the rest was spent in team ‘study sessions’, to ‘keep grades’ for the season.  

“No,” he couldn’t meet your eyes, eyes glued to the floor in a desperate attempt to find his boxers. 

“Oh please, do share who else,” you were mad, yes, but you were also slightly relieved. You should have been heartbroken, crushed by the weight. 

But you were free. 

“Does it even matter, Y/N?” he raised his voice, throwing his arms up in defense. 

“I don’t know, does standing up your girlf- no ex girlfriend really matter? Leaving me out in the cold? Leaving me high and dry time after fucking time?” you raised your voice to match his, both of you on the brink of yelling. 

“It’s not that deep, you know that right?  A man has needs,” his voice heightened as he  finally found his sweatpants, disregarding his boxers. 

“So did I, yet I had to go home and finish the job every time,” your pointer finger was a few inches from his chest, your voice much louder than his. “You didn’t do shit for me. Left me stranded, used me as fucking eye candy. You fucking asshole,”. 

“Eye candy? Seriously? You’re full of yourself, Y/N, you were just an easy fuck and you caught feelings,”. His voice rose quickly to match yours, reverberating off the walls.  “You really think you could be eye candy with your thighs cut up like that? With a body like that? You’re fucking ridiculous,”.

“I caught feelings?” you couldn’t hold back the laughter bubbling inside, fueled by the seething blood that rushed through you. “Do I need to remind you that you begged for me over and over again? Even after I tried to leave after the first time? Are you delusional?”. 

“You’re so fucking stupid, Y/N, and you ruined my night,”. 

“I saved you from knocking her up, first of a-”. His presence loomed over you, eyes dark and pupils clouding his irises. 

“Shut your fucking m-” you flinched as his fist rose towards your face, as if it would really stop anything. It wasn’t the first time he threatened to hit you, used his sheer size to quiet you down. 

“Reiner if you lay a fucking hand on her I’m calling the cops,” Jean stepped between the two of you, back pressed into you. “And don’t fucking talk about her like that,”. 

“Oh like you haven’t been fucking her,” he threw his arms up again, entire demeanor changed. 

He always flipped his moods in an instant, and you had learned how to read him as soon as it happened. He was jealous. 

“Oh? Is someone jealous? At least my dick fucking works,” you hadn’t seen this side of Jean, you hadn’t seen him ever say anything of the sort and mean it. But his words cut through his gritted teeth, leaving cuts in Reiner’s ego. “Step the fuck back before I make you swallow your fucking teeth,”. 

“Fuck off, both of you fuck off,” he sighed, brows furrowed. His face was flushed, pupils huge and veins trembling beneath the skin of his hands. 

“Just wait until everyone else finds out about this, you fuckin-”. 

“Y/N, leave it,” Jean grabbed your waist, practically dragging you out before Reiner snapped. He’d done it before. Missing your head by a few inches. Going straight through the drywall instead. 

His grip left you bruised, just in places no one would ever see. 

You never shared those things, in fear it would cause rifts, that you would be accused of making things up.  That it would cause issues with the group. That Jean would lose his shit, and you wouldn’t be able to bail him out. 

There were things you kept hidden, kept away. You prayed that he hadn’t heard the comment about your thighs, that he didn’t pick up on the fact you flinched when Reiner got in your face. 

**** 

8:17 pm. 

“Is Sasha gone?” Jean asked as he opened the door to the house you shared with her and Mikasa. 

“She’s with Nico,” you sighed, slightly relieved you didn’t have to put a face on for her. Mikasa was always with Eren, and was rarely ever home unless she brought him over to your place. 

“Hm. Okay,” he held all your belongings in his arms, holding the straps of your heels between his fingers. “I’ll run the shower for you,” he led the way towards your bedroom, your bathroom tucked away inside. 

He knew the house like the back of his hand as if it was his own, and could tell you where anything was in a heartbeat. He spent countless nights in your room, had his own soaps in the corner of your shower. 

His drawings had homes on your wall, extra pencils and paper tucked in their own drawer of your desk. 

You two were best friends, nothing more nothing less. 

You always had him, he always had you. 

Following the sound of running water, you found him pulling a fresh towel out of the cabinet, pulling the shower curtain closed. Grabbing makeup remover from under the sink, you wordlessly stood next to him, adrenaline crashing tenfold. You were tired, relieved, sad, hurt, cold, and everything in between. You felt blurry, out of it completely. In a matter of minutes the last year of your life came crumbling down, and you knew everything would change in turn. 

“Take as long as you need, I’ll be here,” he ruffled your hair, stepping out of the bathroom and leaving the door cracked behind him. 

Slipping off the dress you bought just for the occasion last week, on a sale rack while shopping with Sasha, you bunched it up and threw it into the corner. It was too tight, suffocating your already caved in chest. 

You had bought special underwear too, a matching baby blue set, hoping to change your sex life around.  That maybe it would fix things if you faked it. Too much money spent on false hope, and you threw that in the corner on top of the dress you swore to never wear again. 

Sitting on the floor of the shower, letting the water sting your skin for longer than you could remember. Set to the perfect temperature, your knees pulled to your chest, you stifled your sobs under the sound of water ricocheting off  the shower floor. 

Despite how relieved you were to finally be out, it still hurt. Everything you had tried to keep together, disregarded behind your back, your name thrown under the rug. You found yourself in the same position over and over again, convinced you weren’t good enough for anything else. 

“Y/N?” he knocked on the cracked bathroom door, head pushed through the opening. 

“Yes?” you choked down the sobs, wiping away the mixture of city water and salt on your face. 

“Are you okay?” you could hear the worry cursing his system through the steam. 

“Yeah, I’ll uh- I’ll be out in a minute,” you sighed, pushing yourself off of the floor of the tub. 

You washed your hair quickly, and scrubbed your body so hard you felt as if you had taken sandpaper to it as your conditioner sat into your heat damaged ends. Rinsing once more, you shut off the water, ringing the excess out of your hair. 

In hopes to calm the sting of your rubbed raw skin, you slathered yourself in rose scented body lotion, and unscented moisturizer to your t-zone. 

Wrapping the towel around your body, the cold air shocked your skin as you opened the bathroom door. It wasn’t weird, it wasn't strange to be in nothing but a towel around him. He did the same, and you diverted your eyes every time. 

Your thoughts did wander from time to time, you couldn’t lie. 6 feet and 3 inches of lean muscle and broad shoulders would make anyone crumble, but he was your best friend. Nothing more, nothing less. If he wanted more, surely he would have made that clear from the start, right?

You felt his eyes on your bare shoulders as you rummaged through your drawers, pulling out one of his old t-shirts that just ended up being yours, underwear, and your favorite pair of shorts. Closing yourself off behind the bathroom door to change, you combed through your tangled hair, and put a quick swipe of deodorant on each side. Better. 

You crawled on to your bed, resting your back against the wooden footboard of your bed frame. He had his back against the headboard, legs extended next to you. 

“Here,” he handed you a cold can of your favorite drink, the 9%, not 5%, of spiked black cherry lemonade. He had the ‘bad’ flavor, he always did. You hated it, and he always drank them so you could have the best ones. 

Your shared playlist played low from the tv, album covers displayed on  the mounted screen. 

“How did you know?” you asked, fiddling with the tab of your can before downing as much as you could. 

“I called Bert on the way to get you. He said Reiner was home when he left for the library, which was like 20 minutes before you called me,” his eyes couldn’t meet yours, jaw tense. 

“Oh,”. 

“I already told them, by the way,”. 

“Huh?”. 

“Everyone knows.  We removed him from the group chats. They’re just as mad,” he grabbed your ankle gently, thumb running back and forth across your skin. 

“Oh, that’s something I guess,”. You finished your drink before he was halfway through his, and he left to grab you another. 

Digging through your purse that was hung over the edge of the footboard, you found your phone, and were quickly bombarded with notifications. 

47 unread messages from the group that was shared with everyone, now without Reiner.

19 from the chat between you, Jean, Connie, and Sasha. 

5 from Mikasa. 

9 from Sasha. 

13 from Connie. 

4 from Armin. 

3 from Eren. 

12 from Historia. 

1 from Annie.  

2 from Bertholdt. 

You sighed and threw your phone on the bed, pulling your knees to your chest again. Resting your chin on your knees, Jean handed you another can, already opened, and setting another for him on the bedside table before settling into his position from before. 

Jean shot you worried eyes, twisting the tab on his own can back and forth as if the aluminum would paint him the right words to say.  

“Did he ever hurt you?” Jean broke the silence, eyes piercing into yours. 

“Which way?”. Shit. 

“The fact you asked that answers my question,” he bit the inside of his cheek, free hand in a white knuckled fist. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I-” just be honest. “I was desperate to- I- fuck I just wanted to be wanted, Jean,” you took another swig of your drink, the familiar tingly feeling rushing your head quicker than you expected. 

You were already tipsy. You hadn’t eaten all day, scared of the potential bloating that would show in a dress like that. 

“You are wanted, Y/N,” he sighed, leaning towards you. 

“No, not like that. I wanted to be wanted, like, romantically or some shit,”. 

“You are wanted, Y/N,” a light pink hue crossed his nose and cheeks, it’s just the alcohol. 

“Yeah, right. Obviously fucking not,” you rolled your eyes before tilting your chin towards the ceiling, unable to meet his eyes that were glued to your flesh. 

It’s the same goddamn story every time. They beg, they loop me in, they cheat. I’m the common denominator here. 

He didn’t respond, the music from the tv the only break in the deafening silence. 

It felt like hours had passed. Maybe it was minutes, maybe even seconds. Time didn’t feel real. 

“Why didn’t you deny his comment about us fucking?” shut up, y/n, shut up. 

“I wanted to get under his skin,” he cleared his throat, something he only did when he was nervous. 

“Kinda framed me as the one cheating, though,” you shook your head as you huffed half a laugh out of your nose. 

“I don’t think he’s capable of putting two and two together, Y/N. He’s dumber than a box of fucking rocks,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, before mumbling under his breath. “I don’t know what you ever saw in him,”. What? 

“He asked me out. I said yes. Simple as that,”. Another drink down. “I’ll be right back,”. 

You pushed yourself off your bed, walking towards your doorway without taking another glance in his direction. You were ashamed, embarrassed, your lungs taken hostage by gravity, fighting just to move. 

Your bare feet hit the cold hardwood of the kitchen floor, the coolness calming the erratic beat of your heart. Grabbing two more drinks from the fridge, you collected yourself as best as you could before opening your bedroom door. 

Leaving it wide open, you placed one can on the nightstand, leaving one in your hand. Popping the tab as you sat back down, swaying a little bit. 

“Did you love him?” His questions stuns you. Did I really?

How do you know if you actually love someone? Is it time spent, or security in them, or just having someone who would do something for you? How can you tell what’s desperation and what’s real?

I don’t think I know what love actually is.

“I-” you sigh, trying to collect your thoughts, his eyes wavering in your direction. “I think I loved the idea of being loved,”. I didn’t.

“Ah,”. his head drops, eyes fixated on the tab he managed to break off of the can. Why is he being so weird?

“Why are you being weird?” you pull yourself closer to him, tilting your head down in an attempt to meet his eyes. Sitting crossed legged, knee rested against his thigh.

“I’m not being weird,” his eyes meet yours, face barely apart from yours. With one look, an all familiar pulse hits your core. It’s just the alcohol.

“You’re a shit liar,” you say, adjusting yourself in an attempt to calm the swelling heat between your legs. What the fuck is wrong with me? Has this ever happened before?

“And you’re drunk,” his nose comes millimeters from yours, raising his eyebrows.

“Am not,” you huff, pulling your face from his, unfamiliar with this feeling bubbling under your skin.

“Whatever,” he laughed, blush still across the bridge of his nose.

You looked down, you were holding the can in your left, him in his right. Woven friendship bracelets on your free hands, made under the warm sun of the first semester you were friends. Over 2 years later, still tied tightly around each other's wrists, color faded and worn.

Your thought raced around his words from earlier, ‘at least my dick fucking works’. You hadn’t been touched in months, let alone fucked. It was you and your vibrator against the world, which never left you satisfied. He’s your best friend, fucking stop.

You uncrossed your legs, pulling your thighs closer together, praying the tension would make it stop.

It’s just the alcohol.

His jaw tightened again as he adjusted, stretching just enough to see the waistband of his boxers under his sweatpants. Stop it. Divert it. Stop it.

“So,” you cleared your throat.

“So,” he tilted his head to the side, confused, yet a slight smirk was on his face.

“How come you never talk about girls?” what are we, 12?

“You’re just now asking this question?” he laughed, shaking his head. “I just have other things to worry about,”.

“Seriously? You-” shut. up.

“I what?” he raised his eyebrow. Setting his open can on the nightstand, he inched his face closer to yours, “I what?”. You could get anyone you ever wanted, don’t you get that?

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” why am I fucking nervous?

“Really?” he smiled, “I thought we didn’t keep secrets?”

“It’s nothing,” you drug out the end, a giggle surfacing out of pure nervousness.

“Bullshit,” his hands reached your sides, making you fall back in laughter.

It was one of the few ways he knew how to get answers out of you, to tickle you relentlessly, not stopping until you spilled.

“Jean!” your words were cut short by uncontrollable laughter, unable to fight back with an open spiked black cherry lemonade in your hand. “Jean stop!”

“Not until you spill, you know the drill,” his smile was nothing short of mischievous, his body positioned on top of yours.

“Knock it off!” you were practically hyperventilating with laughter, until his knee found his way between your legs as you thrashed around.

The pulse between your legs grew as your body squirmed away from his grip on your sides, and pushed against his knee.

Your face ran hot, a slight gasp escaping between your fits of laughter.

You felt more than just the pulse, a growing wetness flooded as his knee stayed exactly where it was.

“What was t-” his eyes flashed to where his knee was, somewhere it had never fallen before.

Sure, you fell asleep on his lap more times than you could count. Fell asleep in the same bed together. But it was just as friends.

His eyes flashed to yours, wide and unblinking. Yours were the same, mouth partially agape.

With one blink his eyes dropped, a look to them you’d never seen before. They were dark, they were hungry.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, pushing his knee against you with just an ounce of weight. You swallowed your skyrocketing heartbeat, only resulting in heightened butterflies in your stomach. What the fuck is happening.

“What?” you barely choked out, clearing your throat again. It took every ounce of strength you had not to rut your hips against him. He’s your best friend. Stop.

“You’re really bad at playing dumb, you know that right?” he pulled his knee away, a slightly damp spot visible on his light grey sweatpants. Fuck.

“I don’t-” you pushed yourself onto your elbows, your shirt falling behind you, tight against your chest, thin enough to see your chest poking through. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,”.

“Bullshit,” his eyes drifted towards your chest, visible through his t-shirt. A white shirt that had been washed countless times, integrity slipping with each cycle, just light enough for an outline of what was underneath.

“Oh my god shut up,” your face ran hot, nearly beat red.

His face was centimeters from yours, you could feel his breath on your skin.

“Make me,” he was looming over you, blocking the light from the lamp on your nightstand.

What? Am I really going to do this? No, we’re friends.

Fuck it.

After what felt like millenia, he went to open his mouth again, cocky and overconfident. You closed the distance.

Your lips met his, both of your breaths hitched in unison. In one swift motion, he grabbed the can from your hand, and used his other hand to lift you up, not wanting to break the seal as he set the drink down behind him.

One hand on the small of your back, another tangled in your hair, as if your lips were his oxygen and he was struggling to breathe.

He was strong, his fingertips digging into your skin with more need than you’d ever felt before.

One hand found his hair, tugging at the soft strands you’d become so familiar with. The other fell to his stomach, nails digging into each hill and valley his abs created.

His knee resumed position, coming back to where this all started. Your hips rutted against him, the friction eliciting muffled whimpers from your lungs.

You wanted him. And wanted him now.

Am I really doing this?

His lips trailed down your neck, messy and desperate, teeth sinking into the nook between your neck and shoulder. You could feel the markings that would be left for days, tender and bruised by morning.

What am I doing?

“You don’t,”, three more kisses up towards your ear, “don’t know how fucking long I’ve waited for this,”. His teeth pulled on your earlobe, as he looked up at you through his lashes. Your eyes fluttered with each motion, friction more than you could handle.

You needed more. Now.

His hands met your sides, pulling your hips closer to him, pulling breathy whines out of you.

“How I’ve been waiting to hear you,” his words are separated by heavy breaths against your neck, the heat growing to an insufferable level.

“I-” his hands move up your breasts, squeezing them as he runs circles around your nipples, sending foreign waves down your body, your fingertips buzzing.

“Use your words princess,” his hands fell and gripped the outsides of your thighs, white indents around each of his fingers.

“Touch me,” your hands gripped his wrists, a desperate attempt to move his hands where you needed them so badly.

Without another word, without a second of hesitation, he dips his right hand under your waistband, under your soaked through lace underwear. His fingers traced your slit, slick with the warm heat his friction created.

His mouth fell slightly agape, index and middle finger separating your folds to find your entrance, burning gentle touches around it.

“Please, Jean,” your grip around his wrist failed to force his fingers inside you, desperation crawling up your throat. Your hips moved with every touch, not stopping until he was where you wanted him.

“What was that?” he rested his forehead against yours, his slick fingers dancing around your swollen bud, gentle enough to tease you over the edge.

“Please, I need more, please,” your begs were more like whiny cries, eyes glistening with frustrated tears.

His lips met yours, hungry, bruising. In one swift motion two fingers fell inside you, sliding in as if they were made for you.

“Oh fuck,” your back arched, his fingers bottoming out, curling against your spot with ease.

“Don’t stop please don’t st-”. His kisses smothered you, teeth pulling at your bottom lip.

It was messy. It was desperate.

It was years overdue.

“I need more,” his words were more like growls, pulling his body away from yours. Both hands tugged at your shorts, the cold air hitting your sex that was once burning hot.

Grabbing both of your thighs, he pulled your legs towards the edge of the bed. He fell to his knees, eye level with your swollen bud.

He littered the plush of your thighs with kisses, the scruff along his jawline tickling you with each motion. With pleading eyes, his heavy breath centimeters away from your entrance, he waited for your eyes to meet his.

“Can I?” his thumb traced small circles around your clit, sending chills throughout your entire body.

Is this really fucking happening? This is all so fast- I- fuck.

A flustered, needy mess, you nodded, unable to form words. Your tongue was halted by overwhelming knot tightening at your core.

Without a second to waste, he buried his face between your thighs like he hadn’t eaten in days. Circles around your clit, up and down across your slit, lapping up every drop that spilled out of you. His fingers found their way back inside you, his tongue still working overtime.

With each motion, your hips rutted into his face, thighs pushing together, suffocating him. Your fingers pulled on his hair, moving his head so his tongue was pushed further towards you. You squirmed against him, each time releasing his fingers from inside you to hold your thighs steady.

“Don’t st- don’t stop don’t fuck don’t stop please,” your cries only drove him crazier, forgetting to breathe.

The knot in your core snapped, a euphoric rush across each nerve in your body. Toes curling, back arched, mumbled cries spilling out profanities as you unraveled on his face. White and black spots clouded your vision, your hearing muffled. He didn’t stop, keeping pace as you rode out your high, drinking you up like he would never have it again.

“Good girl, there you go,” he wiped the side of his mouth with his thumb, before licking it off, not wasting a drop. “That was awfully quick,”.

“Oh fuck off,” you huffed in embarrasment. Your fucked out doe-eyes met his hungry ones, he wanted more. He needed to be inside you. He belonged inside you.

He stood up, and you struggled to raise yourself to rest on your elbows. He ran his thumb across his lower lip again, wet from his saliva and remnants of your orgasm.

“You taste so good, so fucking good,” his words were thick, slightly slurred. Your eyes found the bulge in his sweatpants, his print tight against the grey fabric.

Wordlessly, you reached your hand down, pressing against his clothed erection. His breath hitched, mouth meeting yours.

It was a fight, it was messy and rough. Your teeth tugged at his lower lips, your tongue slipping against his. You could taste yourself, sickly sweet and slightly salty, mixed with black cherry lemonade.

This is really happening. Holy fuck.

Your hand slipped under his waistband, tracing your finger against the pre-cum dripping from the tip.

You forced yourself up, fighting against his strength pushing you back into the mattress. Slipping past him, you fell to your knees, his body turned to face you, rested against the bed.

“Wha- oh f-fuck,”. You pulled his pants and boxers down in one move, letting him step out of them. Looking up at him with glossy, innocent eyes, he nodded with as much urgency as he could, chest heaving.

Pushing your weight into your knees, you didn’t know how he was exactly supposed to fit in your mouth, but it was going to happen.

The nicknames make sense now.

Your tongue danced along his length, before swirling it around the tip and taking him in. With slow, gradual movements, your head bobbed up and down, tongue snaking in opposite directions.

“H-Holy f-f-fuck,” he hissed, grabbing a fistful of your hair in his hand. His hisses made a mischievous giggle surface, causing him to squirm under the vibrations.

You took him deeper, the thumb of your left hand squeezed under your fingers in a desperate attempt to ease the gagging, right hand stroking him in unison with your mouth. Your attempt at easing your reflex failed, gagging every other pass, his free hand had a grasp on your comforter so tight you thought his fingers would break. Tears rimmed your lash line, spilling over gently.

“F-fucking hell f-oh shit,” he pulled your mouth off of him, wiping the tears from your cheek as you sat back on your heels. “You look so pretty with your mouth full,”.

Before you could respond, he lifted you from the floor, laying you down where you were just minutes ago. Sticking his fingers in his mouth for presumed lubricant, his breath shuttered when you pulled him close enough for his mouth to meet you again, your other hand guiding his fingers inside.

He didn’t need the extra lubricant, still dripping solely from the sounds that escaped his throat.

“I need- I need you,” his pace with his fingers sped up, grazing your spot over and over and over again.

“S-so t-t,” your words stuttered with each curl, a smirk crawling up his face.

“Cat got your tongue?” he mocked, speeding up his pace, stretching you out as the knot threatened to tie again.

“God d-damn it Jean just fuck me already!” you spat out as he pulled his fingers out of you, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Do you have uh, a uh” he looked around, reaching for the drawer of your nightstand.

“I don’t I- I’m clean I-” without another second to spare, he spread your legs wide open, lining up with your entrance. He knew you were on birth control, your alarm at 10 pm since he met you cutting off conversation on the regular.

Hesitating for a second, he pulled a pillow from the bed, and lifted your hips to slide it under you.

Oh fuck.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” he spat into his hand, rubbing it around his cock, before teasing your throbbing sex.

“Mhm,” you nodded, needy, ready, scared, heartbeat in your ears.

He pushed into you gently, hisses spilling out of you. He wiggled his hips to ease into you, allowing you to adjust to his size. It hurt, fuck it hurt. But fuck did it feel good.

Is this really happening?

“You feel s-so fucking good,” his words were slurred, struggling to fit inside of you.

It was messy. The floor, the bedding, you, him.

“U-use me, fucking use me,” you whined, desperate to feel him deeper. To feel him harder, to feel everything.

5 words gave him access to do as he pleased, before a single thrust allowed him to bottom out, pulling movie-style moans out of you.

His pace was slow as first, still allowing you to adjust to his size. His grip on your hips felt like they would leave bruises, pulling you somehow closer. His pace quickened, thrusting his hips into you with every ounce of strength he had.

Every thrust of his hips left you fuller than the last, fighting the resistance his size alone caused.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, legs wrapped around him. Tears formed around your lash line again, the knot in your core tightening faster than the speed of light.

“Oh-oh my fucking god fuck fuck fuck,” your words were a mess, slurred profanities at best. Your brain was simply a puddle, a fucked-out look plastered on your face.

He moved one hand from your waist to your throat, fingers placed perfectly around it.

“God your moans are the hottest thing I’ve ever heard,”. His eyes were glued to your face, before crashing his lips into you as his tempo sped up, nearly bruising your cervix for good.

His fingers tightened, restricting blood flow yet leaving room for the heavy air to sink in. Everything was a blur, your body a heightened mess.

It was pure ecstasy, the slam of his hips into you, the bruising of your hips from his grasp, the sounds escaping his lungs.

His moans were guttural, deep and heavy. Eyes dark and glistening, face flushed and hair falling in his face. He looked like a god, nothing else. Towering over you, taking what was rightfully his.

Sweat sparkled on his skin, his core tense and muscles flexed as he thrust everything he had into you. His biceps were flexed, veins an addicts wet dream.

The knot snapped, cries spilling out in an incoherent mess, nails dug so far into his skin it would leave marks for days. He watched tears spill over, watched you writhe under his grasp.

I didn’t even know I could finish more than once.

His pace never faltered, rhythmic and deep enough you could feel him in your stomach.

“Does my baby have one more left in her?” he asked, his pace slowing as his lips met your neck, leaving his mark behind. You were his now. You were finally his now.

You nodded and he slipped himself out of you, and you felt nothing short of empty. He belonged inside of you, without it you felt hollow.

You watched as he sat up, and assumed his place against your headboard. His cheeks were flushed, eyes glossy and darker than the ocean floor.

“C’mere,” he beckoned for you to crawl onto his lap, it was your turn. “Be a good girl for me,”.

You nodded, mouth incapable of forming real words. Running your fingers through your hair and pulling it out of your face, you straddled him without question.

He pulled his t-shirt over your head, leaving it with the mess on the floor. His fingers traced every inch of you, head cocked slightly with the corners of his mouth turned upward.

His fingers traced along the self-inflicted wounds, and passed on by with a slight falter in his heavy breathing.

It was uncomfortable, being so exposed. You felt as if he knew all of you, every single thing there was to know, yet this was the most vulnerable you had ever been with him.

Adjusting yourself to allow him back inside, one hand placed against the wall next to his head, the other guiding him in.

Settling onto him at an excruciatingly slow pace, he titled his head back with his jaw clenched so tight you swore his teeth would break.

The slight upward curve of his length hit your cervix harder than it did before, the entirety of your weight pushing you into him.

His hands were glued to your hip, leaving indents that your swore would never fade away.

Your hand gripped the top of the headboard, the only possible way you could keep your body steady.

In one motion your hips raised and lowered, pace steady as he raised his hips in sync.

His pupils were wide, nearly engulfing the color you had grown to love so much.

His lips were swollen and raw, a deeper hue than their normal flush.

Your downturned eyes watched as he slid in and out of you, as if he was made for you. The sounds radiating from the room were nothing short of outright lewd, convinced the entire neighborhood knew that you were being fucked right for the first time in your life.

“J-Jean p-please,” your voice had fallen into a set of whimpers, your knees weaker than they’ve ever been, burning from supporting movements you simply weren’t used to.

“What? Please what?” his words slipped through gritted teeth, breath heavy on your chest.

“I’m gon-I need-,” words were a foreign language to you, brain too muddled to form any.

“Have you earned it?” you struggled to keep pace, rhythm falling out and grip slipping from the headboard.

“Please J-Jean please,” you weren’t used to begging.

It was always something you could eventually get out on your own, mediocre at best.

Now you could kill a man just for the chance to finish on him again, that you could feel that euphoria again.

Please for the love of god let me have this.

Before your eyes could adjust to the change in scenery, you found him back on top of you, face flushed and eyes somehow darker than before.

“You tell me if this is too much, okay?” The smirk on his face made your stomach drop yet your heart skipped a beat as he grabbed your ankle and threw your right leg over his shoulder.

He did the same with your left, both of you surprised you were flexible enough to do that.

He lined himself up again, not giving you a second to catch your breath, his length reaching deeper than you thought was imaginable.

You weren’t even sure what was happening anymore, your hearing was fuzzy and vision splotchy.

You could feel his fingers bruising your thighs, your back arching higher than before, only pushing him closer to where he belonged.

Before you knew what was happening, you unraveled once again, unaware of your reaction.

Muddled words, blackout vision. You could feel your legs shaking, bottom lip quivering, your lungs barely capable of holding a normal breath.

Despite your efforts at a break before imminent overstimulation, he sped up, chin tilted towards the ceiling.

He had never looked more beautiful. Your heartbeat irregular, butterflies swarming, fingertips still tingling.

“W-where,” Jean stuttered, holding his tongue back by his teeth.

“Uh-um,” you panicked at the question, forgetting you weren’t really being safe. “Wherever,” you blanked, hoping he would choose any option other than inside.

Before you could finish the third syllable, he slid out of the home he had created inside of you to finish on your stomach.

You felt vacant, empty, cold. The only thing your body felt was right was to cry, and you fought it back with the milliliter of strength you had left.

He rested his forehead against yours, both of you struggling for oxygen in sync. His pupils were still overpowering, but gentle instead of hungry. He placed a few soft kisses on your forehead, one on the tip of your nose.

“Stay put, okay?” he left the space above you, one you grew so comfortable with in such a short amount of time.

Don’t tell me you’re gonna leave me here just like he did, please don’t do this to me.

He wordlessly came back, a damp washcloth in hand. He wiped away the mess he had made on your stomach, ensuring nothing was left.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He sat you up, resting your exhausted body against his. He gently calmed down the stray hairs that had escaped their place, tucking them behind your ear.

“Water?” you asked, avoiding eye contact, now embarrassed being fully undressed around him. Did that really just happen?

He found your water bottle on your desk, bringing the straw to your lips.

Music still hummed in the background, clothes were strung across the floor. The blankets on your bed a twisted mess, your brain fuzzy.

He grabbed spare clothes for himself out of the dresser, tossing them on the bed. He searched for the shirt you always wore to bed, before holding it up to you wordlessly. You nodded, and he pulled it over your head, placing your water bottle on your nightstand.

He was gentle, fingertips softer than they have ever been. Like you were featherweight glass that would shatter instantaneously.

“I should probably go piss before I get a uti,” you sighed, legs jelly as you tried to stand.

“You got it?” you nodded, steadying yourself for the few steps across your room.

Did we really just do that?

What does that make us now?

Did this just ruin everything?

What is he going to say in the morning?

What have I done?

You felt your body crashing, wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed.

Avoiding a uti, you ran your hands under cool water, before rubbing it on the sides of your sore throat. Multiple marks littered the sides, falling down until nearly your collarbone. How the fuck am I supposed to hide these?

Regaining most of your composure, you found the floor tidied up, bedding straightened out and lights dimmed down.

He beckoned for you to lay next to him, which you didn’t fight. He was your safe space. He always was.

He hummed as you rested your head on his chest, heat still radiating off of him. You closed your eyes, quickly realizing how exhausted you were.

Three hours getting ready, an hour of waiting in the cold, watching someone who you once considered a friend get fucked by the man you were still technically with however artificial it was, erasing the lines between best friends and something more.

You didn’t know what time it was. You were safe, you were warm. His fingers ran through your hair gently, lulling you to sleep in a matter of minutes.

“You are wanted, you always have been,” he whispered as he kissed the top of your head, thinking you were asleep already.

*****

10:34 a.m.

“Y/N? Jean?” Sasha knocked on your open bedroom door, finding the two of you fast asleep, completely intertwined. The scratches on his back were still red, the marks on your neck a deeper shade of purple than they were hours before.

“Fucking finally, jesus christ,” she laughed quietly, taking a picture she would keep until the end of time. “Don’t fuck this up, J,”. She closed your bedroom door, leaving the two of you to be together, the way they should have always been.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

hello!! thanks for checking this out : ) this is my first real fic (we are forgetting the phan and spn ones i wrote in middle school ok)

this is also active on my ao3 !! ᥫ᭡。

[navelluarts]

He says good morning 😫

[annawayne]

The bar, pt. 3

[decimejean]

Cause I give you all of me and you give me all of you ✨

[lunarwildrose]

Nabi's Attack on Titan crushes: Erwin Smith /// Jean Kirstein /// Reiner Braun.

Erwin - a dreamboat. ♡

Jean - the Steven guy.

Reiner - the Milton guy.

Steven and Milton are homemade characters of ours in our upcoming webcomic, MQ. I often have a crush on those who remind me of them, whether visually or personality-wise. Steven originates from Android 17, and Milton from Bryan Fury/Roy Batty. Erwin ... kinda just surprised me, and I'm not sure why I fell for him, aside from his strong personality, and my odd train of thought comparing him to God. Don't ask. ^^;

~ * ~

#personal #ErwinSmith #エルヴィンスミス #JeanKirstein #ジャンキルシュタイン #ReinerBraun #ライナーブラウン #AttackOnTitan #ShingekiNoKyojin #進撃の巨人 #crushes #mycrushes

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