#jean.reblogs

[softjaegerhours]

i can’t believe i’m just NOW reading this wtf

pretty girl - jean kirschtein x afab!reader - 18+!!!

there's def more eren coming but while that's in the works please enjoy the result of the jean brainrot i experienced the other day. fair warning- it's going to get pretty rough, but that's what you asked him for ;)

pairing: reader x jean kirschtein

wc: 4.6k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, established relationship (jean's ur gorgeous bf lucky u), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, pretty rough sex, vaginal fingering, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, daddy kink, use of names (pretty girl, crybaby, good girl), very dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie

this one was super fun and is very tasty u guys enjoy <3

-

-> be there in 5 babe :)

You are not looking forward to this, to say the least. You pace madly around your little apartment in a massive t-shirt and sweatpants covering the skimpiest lingerie set you own. It’s got all the bells and whistles: a matching garter belt, lace in all the right places, stockings that come up to where your plush thighs are the fattest. You should be looking forward to this, you tell yourself, candles lit and ambient lighting ready to go. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who’s going to “be here in five”, and you should be brimming with excitement. But…you’re just not.

Jean’s been in your life for a few months now. What had started as a run-in at the coffee shop around the corner had turned into candlelit dinners, movie marathons, and exclusive titles, and you adore him. His sandy brown hair, the tattoo on his strong bicep, pretty hazel eyes– Jean’s sexy, loving, sarcastic, attentive, literally everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. Except when it comes to your sex life, that is.

The sex isn’t bad per se, you just can’t shake the feeling that he’s holding something back from you. He’s almost too perfect; he’s gentle with you, always taking care to ask permission before touching you, chaste kisses as he slides in, hand-holding in missionary. He cums every time, immune to the whiskey-dick you’d expect from his bourbon drinking habit, so you know he’s enjoying himself, but he doesn’t always seem all there. The fire just isn’t in him, and you know he has that side to him. You’ve seen those hazel eyes you love so much blaze, in a heated argument, at the gym. Why it doesn’t happen in your intimate moments is beyond you, it’s like he’s afraid to break you, like he’s not doing everything–

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Shit, knocking on your front door is what he’s doing.

You take one last look in the mirror: hair’s casual, but still sexy, makeup to a minimum, all straps and lace covered up by your inconspicuous pajamas. Time to potentially ruin your relationship.

“Hey beautiful,” Jean greets you with an innocent smile, “you look cozy.”

“Feel cozy,” you accept his kiss, chewing on your lip as he comes in. Your heart’s pounding in your ears; poor thing has no idea what’s to come. Maybe it’ll go well, you think; false hope might be the only thing that gets you to pull through with your plan.

“Have any movie ideas for tonight? I was thinking Hereditary, but only if you’re not too chicken…” Jean raises his eyebrows, a taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Ha! If only he knew all of the things you aren’t “too chicken” for.

You smile weakly, stomach churning. “Maybe. Can we just…can we just talk for a sec?”

Jean’s playful demeanor drops instantly, replaced by a faint frown. “What about?”

You amble over to the couch, playing with the strings of your sweatpants anxiously. How the fuck are you even supposed to bring this up? Your mind’s racing so quickly it draws a blank, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt: “Sex.”

“Sex?” Jean’s cheeks tinge pink. He hasn’t shaved in probably a week, a shadow covering his sharp jawline. God, he’s gorgeous, you can’t mess this up, you really can’t.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “sex. Our sex, to be clear.”

“I figured as much,” Jean’s sat himself beside you now, one eyebrow raised suspiciously. He’s not upset, not yet, but you’ve definitely caught him off guard.

“I– I feel like we’re on different pages,” you stammer– fuck you are so bad at this, “I just feel like sometimes you’re so…gentle, and you don’t necessarily, like, have to be?”

Jean’s frowning full on now, a precious little wrinkle appearing in the center of his forehead. You’ve hurt him, and your heart sinks. Probably should have started with the pros. “Like…what do you mean, by ‘don’t have to be gentle’?”

“Our sex life is great,” you try to smile enthusiastically, as if you don’t actually want to blow your brains out right now, “please don’t think I’m saying you’re bad in bed or anything. I just, like– okay, for example, have you ever tried anything rough?”

His mouth is a flat line. “Like what?”

“Like, handcuffs, or roleplay, any of that stuff.”

“What have you tried?” His voice is even, collected, but there’s something simmering in him that you can’t put your finger on. It’s not anger, but it tastes similar, running in the same vein but not quite there. It’s your turn to feel your face warm.

“I mean, I’ve tried handcuffs before. Some light slapping, spanking.” You’re twiddling your thumbs, confessing into your lap. You can feel his eyes on you.

“That it?”

“I guess.”

“Did you…enjoy that kind of stuff?” He’s taking the bait. You finally meet his gaze and it ignites a little fire in your stomach; he’s never looked at you this intensely, brows pinched together like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. All of these little mannerisms are tells, you’re intuitive enough to know that, but exactly what he’s trying to convey you just can’t figure out.

“Yeah.”

“How rough are we talking, here?” Jean sounds deeper than normal, the slightest bit of strain to his words. That’s definitely new; Jean’s the most unshakeable person you’ve ever met.

“If I’m making you uncomfortable, I–”

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” an easy chuckle floats out of his mouth, “just trying to feel you out is all.”

Your brows furrow. “Feel me out?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Surprised?” Your nose wrinkles. “Did I ever give off the impression that I was, like, super vanilla or something?”

“No,” he laughs again, a bit of the tension melting from the room, “no, not that. We’re just still pretty new, that’s all. Wasn’t going to whip out everything in my toolbox ‘til I knew you were okay with it.”

That piques your interest; you think you’d very much like to see what’s in this toolbox of his. “So you do like some of this stuff?”

Jean rolls that thought over in his mind for a beat before responding, a suspicious smirk that you can’t read tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I guess you could say I like some of this stuff.”

“We’re back to my original question then: what do you like?”

“I’m more worried about what you like,” Jean says, “especially since you won’t come right out and say it. Gonna make me guess?”

That’s your Jean, blunt as ever. The fire in your stomach sparks and spits at the conversation, teasing and tempting. There’s something playful to his words; you can’t shake this feeling that you’re missing something, that he’s toying with you, but you like it. You let him keep pushing, see where he’s leading you. “Sure, guess.”

“Do you like…” Jean trails off, examining you with his chin nestled between his thumb and index finger, “to be dominant?”

“No.”

“Submissive, then.”

“Yeah.” He likes that, you can tell by the way his eyes glint at you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“Like to be tied up?”

“Already told you about the handcuffs.”

“I bet you have a praise kink.”

That has you flustered. There’s a sinking sensation in your stomach that you’ve underestimated him, waded out too deep into the water, but fuck it, you’re already here. “How’d you know?”

Jean smiles, pleased. “I just do. Overstimulation?”

“Sure.”

“Orgasm denial? Degradation?”

“If I deserve it.” It’s a bold answer, but it makes Jean suck in a sharp “fuck” between his teeth. Oh yes, you’ve definitely underestimated him.

“You like to be punished, don’t you?” His hand has traveled up to cup your jaw, thumb playing absentmindedly with your bottom lip. There’s an anticipatory warmth gathering between your legs, and the air between you both is practically crackling, charged by the tension thrumming through both of your bodies.

“Yes,” it comes out in a breath, almost pathetic, but you can’t help yourself. He looks so good, always does, and now he’s grazing his eyes over you like he wants to take a bite.

“You know how safewords work?” You nod a bit too eagerly. “Ours is going to be red, okay?”

“Okay,” you’re agreeing, but you aren’t entirely sure what to, caught up in the soft rubbing of his thumb over your mouth.

“If your mouth is,” a deep breath shakes through his frame, “occupied, give me a sharp pinch with your nails.”

“I can do that,” the tension between you is palpable now, the room’s so hot that you’re surprised your wallpaper isn’t peeling off.

“Go to your room,” Jean releases you, eyes dark and hungry, “take your clothes off and wait for me on the bed. I’ll be in soon.”

You follow his instructions without thinking twice, as if a switch has flipped in your brain. Maybe it was his tone, an authoritative way of speaking that threatens consequence, or maybe you’re just so ready to see what this perfect boyfriend of yours has been hiding all this time. As you’re getting undressed, you realize he still doesn't know about your lingerie. You bite back a smile, kneeling on the bed. This is going to be so good.

A minute or so ticks by slowly, and just when your legs are starting to ache, Jean’s entering your room. His face darkens in a way you’ve never seen before when he sees your little get up; lightning shoots through your core.

“Put on a pretty outfit just for me?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“That’s good,” he says in that slow drawl of his, “good girl.”

He’s only testing the waters, but you can feel your body viscerally react to the little pet name, shifting on your knees to mask your desperate attempt for friction, dampness spreading in your panties. Jean sees right through your act, smirking.

Jean joins you in undressing, slipping his shirt over his head. You take your time admiring his torso; miles of long, lean muscle, little ripples by his ribs trailing into a ridiculous six-pack. Jean’s a confessed gym rat, and it shows in every little line along his body. You have to blink and look away before you start salivating.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jean scolds, tilting your head up towards him, “eyes on me, got it?”

“Got it,” you answer. Jean frowns.

“That’s not very nice,” he says, “try again.”

You go out on a limb. “Yes, sir.”

Jean’s eyes glint again in that mean, pretty way you saw earlier. You did good, you did good for him. “Much better. Get on the floor.”

You slide off of your mattress, practically buzzing with anticipation, settling on your knees in front of him. A low groan rumbles in Jean’s chest.

“Look so good like that, my pretty girl.”

Oh, you really like that, nuzzling against his hand on your head. Jean smiles down at you, inching his pants down until that little thatch of brown hair starts revealing itself. “Open up for me, nice and wide.”

Your jaw’s dropped, mouth open and tongue out, expectant. Jean smiles wider, sharp and dangerous, pulling his cock out for you. He taps the head against your tongue a few times, even slaps you with it, facade faltering for a fraction of a second to gauge your reaction. You’re good for him, sitting still and patient with your mouth still open, a drop of drool starting to slide off the end of your tongue. Jean makes a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a chuckle.

“Oh, you’re an obedient little thing, aren’t you?” Your panties grow impossibly wetter, you wiggle on your thighs under him, earning yourself another slap of his cock on your tongue, heavy and drooling. “Gonna fuck this pretty face, okay?”

You close your mouth around his head, sucking lightly to show your approval. He’s not even touched you, not so much as a kiss, and your brain’s foggy, running like a hamster on a wheel chasing the circular thought of be good, be good, be good. Jean grabs your hair none-too-gently, tugging it at the roots, and starts canting his hips towards your mouth, muttering under his breath about how good you are, how good your mouth feels on him.

You lower your jaw ever so slightly, and before long, Jean’s picking up speed, knocking your gag reflex here and there and making you cough around him. He doesn’t seem overly concerned; in fact, he grins cruelly down at you when he hits an extra-sensitive spot, making you hunch and gag on him.

“Look at my pretty girl, so happy getting her mouth fucked,” he hisses when you moan around him, feeling the vibrations up his cock. He’s moving faster now, rougher than he’s ever been. You’re gagging with some regularity, tears welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill down your cheeks. You expect him to let up, give you some air, but it only spurs him on, and before you know it, there are thick streams of tears running down your face. Your jaw aches, your knees burn, but you stay, letting him use you how he pleases.

“Fucking crying on me,” Jean growls, “my cock too much for you?”

You try to answer with a shake of your head, but he’s relentless, fingers tightening in your hair and cock shoving to the back of your throat, making you retch.

“No, you love it, don’t you? My little crybaby.”

You’re so wet you can feel it gathering on the insides of your thighs, entirely soaked through your panties. You move your hips subtly, this way and that, desperate for friction. Jean notices, pulling out of your mouth but staying connected by a string of your spit.

“You squirming, pretty girl? Need some attention?”

“Yes, sir,” you rasp, nodding eagerly. Jean helps you up onto the bed, lays you back against his chest facing the mirror on top of your wardrobe. It’s a terribly lewd sight; you spread out in front of him, face swollen and teary, the telltale glisten of wetness glittering on your thighs.

Jean slides a hand down your body, rubbing you over your panties and nibbling at your ear. “You’re gonna watch me make you cum, and if I see you look away, I’m fucking you ‘til I cum, and you’re not getting a damn thing. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” your voice wobbles pathetically. Jean seems to like it; his cock twitches in interest against your back. He pushes your panties to the side, flicking his fingers faster over your clit. Embarrassingly enough, you’re already nearing your halfway point from the face-fucking, moaning and grinding up into his palm.

“Need something?”

“Mhm,” you grit out, jaw clenched. Jean slaps your pussy; not too hard, but firm enough to make you jolt, bring you a moment of clarity.

“Manners,” he reminds you sharply.

“I’m sorry, I– can I please have a finger?”

Jean’s placated, slides one finger into you and laughs hot against your neck at the obscene sound that tears from your throat. “What do we say when we get what we ask for?”

“Thank you– fuck, thank you,” your words are coming out in puffs of breathe. Jean has long, skilled fingers, a fact you’re already familiar with, but the position he’s put you in has you dripping onto the sheets: forcing you to watch as he pumps in and out of you, grinding into your clit with the heel of his hand. You’ll be lucky if you last another minute.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? My pretty girl likes being full, right?” Jean murmurs, hot against the shell of your ear. “Tell me.”

“Yes, sir, I– I like it, I need– fuck!”

“What do you need?” Jean coos, entertained, as if he’s not unraveling you with just the one.

“I want one m-more finger, please,” you stutter, relieved you’re able to get the words out at all.

“Learning so fast,” Jean kisses your shoulder, granting your wish. His fingers are thick, the slight stretch making you throw your head back against his shoulder, hips rolling into his hand of their own accord. “Still looking?”

You force your head back to its upright position, mindful of the threat in his tone. His fingers work faster at your obedience, curling insistently against the gummy spot inside your walls that makes you see stars, makes you a little out of your mind with need. It’s that out-of-mind dizziness in your head that causes your little slip-up:

“Fuck, please, more- more, Daddy.”

Jean’s fingers still; it’s not until you’re halfway into a whine of disappointment that you realize what you’ve said. Your face burns; you meet his eyes in the mirror, yours shot wide and embarrassed. You trip over your words, trying to explain yourself. That definitely hadn’t been mentioned in your earlier conversation.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, I just–”

“Just what? Already so fucked out you can’t think straight?” Jean curls his fingers pointedly against your walls, punching a groan from your chest.

“Yeah,” you sigh, head growing cloudy again.

“Say it again.” That definitely isn’t what you expect to hear him mutter against your neck. Jean works a third finger into your cunt with some difficulty, stretching you to your limits. “Fucking say it, or you’re not cumming.”

“Oh my God, D-Daddy,” your cries are pathetic, punctuated by whimpers. The bubble in your stomach is about to pop, the tension growing unbearable. You’re almost there, grinding into his hand pitifully and babbling, when Jean takes one of his hands to grab your throat roughly. He holds you captive, staring at your own stretched cunt on display for you in the mirror.

“Good, good girl,” he says, “now watch Daddy make you cum.”

The band inside you snaps viciously; your back arches away from him, and you squirt, gushing all over your bed sheets, inhuman sounds tearing from your throat where you struggle under his hand. Jean’s working you through the whole thing, still steadily pumping his fingers and whispering dirty little nothings into your ear. It finally begins to quiet, overstimulation washing over you. You push urgently at his wrist, mumbling something or other about “too much, too much”.

Jean mercifully obliges, pulling his hand from you with a shameful sucking sound, giving your pussy another light slap.

“Such a good girl for me, yeah? How you feelin’?”

“Good, so good,” you slur, “I’ve never– never…”

“Never squirted?” Jean’s eyebrows shoot up at your answering nod before a smug expression settles over his face. “Such a fun little toy, aren’t you? Just wait, you’ll get used to it soon enough.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing; so he can make you do that? Again? Jean’s slid out from behind you and is repositioning your limp body, dragging you down the bed by your ankles to line you up with his cock. He bends your knees up, pressing them close to your head. Jesus, he’s going to kill you at this rate.

“Want me to fuck you?”

“Please,” you hate the begging lilt to your voice, but you’re beyond fighting it. You gave up the reins a long time ago when you knelt for him, let him call you a good girl, let him fuck your throat.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl, Daddy’s gotcha,” Jean starts bullying his way into your pussy, still tight and pulsing from your orgasm. “Shit, got a tight little cunt, don’t you? Feels so good– fuck.”

You’re simpering under him, barely able to process the stretch of his cock in you. He’s well-endowed and you’re overwhelmed, a dizzying combination for your fucked-out brain to handle. Just when you think he might be in your throat he’s so deep in you, his hips press to the back of your thighs, both of you letting out a long groan at the feeling.

“So pretty,” Jean muses, not moving yet, just placing a thumb on your clit and absentmindedly playing with it, “such a beautiful pussy.”

You whine, frustrated. He glares at you, landing a harsh smack to your inner thigh.

“I’m not going to warn you again.”

“Please fuck me, oh God, please,” you pant, past the point of humility. Jean licks his lips, presses his palms deep into the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half. He gives you what you ask for.

You’re jolted back and forth on the mattress, mouth hung open in a silent scream as he splits you open on him, forces every inch deep into you. His tip’s kissing your cervix, pain blooming in your abdomen, but you don’t even care, so lost in the rhythm of his hips.

“Jean, I– oh my God,” you try to tell him how good he feels, but all you get is a firm hand around your throat.

“Who’s fucking this pretty cunt up, hm? Fucking you good and deep? Who is it?”

“Daddy,” you choke out, breathless, “Daddy’s.”

“There you go,” Jean’s focused on where you’re connected, eyes never leaving the frothy white ring forming around the base of his cock. You’re crying again, vaguely aware of the streams of tears running down your temples, into your hairline, but fuck, he just feels so good your brain can’t even process it. Jean takes notice, wipes one of your tears and licks it off of his thumb. “Cute fucking crybaby, all happy and cockdrunk, aren’t you?”

You whimper some semblance of an agreement, feeling the band of tension in you already getting stretched to a breaking point. He’s at an angle that allows him to hammer into the most delicious spot inside of you, rubbing against it with each thrust.

“Gonna cum soon, I– I’m gonna cum soon,” you manage, locking his gaze.

“Let me feel it, go on, do it for me,” Jean pants, squeezing your neck tighter. The lack of air goes to your head; the room spins until all you can focus on is him pounding into you. You cum violently, throbbing around his cock, thrashing against his strong arms. Jean fucks you through it, never losing his pace. “Good fucking girl, just like that.”

You’re practically wheezing as your senses return to you, clawing at Jean’s arm on your throat. He lets up on your neck, smiling down at you. “Feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, blissed out and half-asleep until Jean flips you, forcing you to prop up on your hands and knees. “Wait, Jean–”

“Wait?” Jean scoffs, sliding back into you. You let out a little cry, and he smacks your ass sharply. “This is what you asked for, right? Said I was being too nice to you.”

“I didn’t– oh my god…” your eyes roll back into your head, a well-placed thrust cutting your words off. “It’s so…it’s so much, Jean.”

Jean lands three more sharp slaps to your ass, already thrusting into you at a brutal pace. “What was that?”

“T-too much, Daddy,” you collapse, face shoved into the bed to mask the pitiful cries leaving your mouth. It is too much; if you tuck your chin to your chest, you can see a little bulge in your tummy where he’s fucking into you, another orgasm already building in the pit of your stomach. You feel like you might pass out if he makes you cum again, but he’s ruthless.

“Too much?” Jean coos, fisting your hair to turn your face. He’s glaring down at you. “You were practically begging me for it, and my pretty girl gets what she wants, right? Said you wanted it rough, so you’re going to fucking take it.”

You nod miserably, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Jean hisses when you clamp down around him. “Squeezing me so goddamn tight, this pussy.”

You feel a hand start thrumming insistently against your clit and nearly shriek; your pussy’s so swollen, so sensitive already. You claw at the bedsheets, feeling something warm and wet swelling inside of you.

“Daddy, I– fuck, it’s, it’s–”

“Gonna make you squirt again,” it’s a promise from behind your ear, “you’re gonna squirt on my cock and Daddy’ll cum for you, okay?”

“I can’t, I–” you’re wailing, words cut off by your own moans. Jean loves it, you can feel his thrusts growing more urgent against your hips, so deep in you you could choke.

“You can,” he corrects you, hand moving faster, “want Daddy to cum in you?”

“Yes, please, p-please,” You cry, letting him use you as he wishes. 

“I’ll give it to you, gotta cum first, you can do that, can’t you? Taking me so well, pretty girl, just need you to cum one more time for me.”

“Uh-huh,” the edges of your vision are starting to close in. He’s ruthless, hips slamming into yours hard enough to bruise, cock stretching you out so nicely, you can’t hold it, but you know, somewhere deep in this primal part of your brain, you need to be good, need to ask him. “Need to cum, Daddy, please– please let me, I–”

“Go ahead,” Jean shushes you, hips moving impossibly faster, “be a good girl, let me feel it.”

That tips you over the edge and Jean makes good on his promise; your cum is dripping out of you, spraying onto his thighs and ruining your sheets. You’re thrashing your head back and forth and sobbing through your orgasm, pinned and powerless under him. Jean swears at the vice-like grip you have on him; it doesn’t take him long to follow suit, pressing himself as deep as he can go, cumming in you. He bends over you as he does, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to him, kissing you hard in a mess of tongue and teeth. You feel it warming your stomach, moaning appreciatively until you both collapse in a sweaty mess of limbs, gasping for breath and clutching onto one another.

Jean allows himself a few moments to catch his breath, and then he’s pulling out of you, leaving you empty and whimpering. He shushes you, holding you close to his chest and letting you work through the intense session in his arms. You’ve never been so fucked out, nuzzling into his chest and simply letting him hold you, letting the aftershocks wrack through your sore body. After a few minutes you’re coming to; the haze begins to lift, and you peek up at him, unsure of where to start after…that.

“You okay?”

You turn the words over in your mouth before you can get them out, still feeling a bit like you’re floating. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. That was…wow.”

Jean, the man that just held you down and forced what were probably life-threatening orgasms out of you, blushes. “Yeah, it was really something.”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, giggling despite yourself. Your mind is still a little cloudy, a little soft after everything. “But it was good. So good.”

“Yeah?” Jean grins, hoisting you up into his lap so you can both sit up, still cradling you to his chest. “Not too gentle, was I?”

Your face grows hot, you want to hide it behind your hands. “No, not too gentle.”

“You were right earlier,” he admits, “I was definitely holding out on you just because the way I like to…I mean, I don’t think I need to get too into it, you were there. It can be a lot. Didn’t want to push you too far.”

You hum contentedly, playing with the little gold chain he always wears. “I understand that now, but I’m a big girl. I can handle whatever you want to give me, promise.”

“Don’t say that,” Jean groans, “too tired for round two.”

Your hand falls into the mess between your thighs, and you wince. “Maybe after a shower?”

“Greedy,” Jean tuts, scooping you up with him to make the journey over to your bathroom, “my greedy, pretty girl.”

[softjaegerhours]

PLUTO IM SOBBING

DAD DUTIES [SMAU] | aot x reader

✧˖*࿐ ⋆featuring: dad!levi | dad!connie | dad!jean | dad!zeke | dad!eren | dad!erwin

✧˖*࿐ ⋆contains: a lil swearing, eren calls you mama :/, fluff

✧˖*࿐ ⋆note: made this on a whim, thought it was cute hehe i will make a jjk one too pls lmk if you have any specific characters you wanna see x

[softjaegerhours]

breathing very heavy rn

crying sobbing throwing up at how hot this is bye

full credits to https://twitter.com/keykirschtein !! their bio says reposting allowed w/ credit! 

[softjaegerhours]

eren 😭😭

aot men as feelings/memories.

Part One

Eren is the feeling of sitting on the roof of your old high school. Trying to hide when you see police lights in the distance, knowing they were intended for the two of you. Climbing down the ladder after Eren, his hands wrap around your body to carry you down the last few rungs of the ladder because they were getting closer. Holding hands as you run through the shortcut you each knew well that went through the woods behind the school. Stopping momentarily to kiss deeply, pulling away, panting and laughing.

Eren is sneaking out of your window, knowing damn well your parents would kill you if they knew you had left in the middle of the night but not caring because any punishment was worth just one minute with Eren.

Eren is a bar fight that results in him getting arrested, beating the hell out of some creep that kept touching you. He kisses you as he is put into the back of the police car, a smile across his face and a wink before they slam the car door.

Eren is crying in your arms about how much he loves you. How he’s never felt this way. How he can’t ever lose you. How you were made to love one another.

Eren is asking you to marry him with a candy ring. It seems like a joke. But he means it. God, does he mean it. “I’m a fuck up. I don’t do the right thing. I don’t know what I’m doing. But I know whatever it is, I want to do it with you. I want this forever. Marry me. I mean it. Marry me.”

Eren is dumb decisions. Danger. Tears and fights. Sleepless nights full of skin on skin. Jealousy. Deep, passionate love. Love preserved only for soulmates.

Eren is marriage at a young age.

Eren is a marriage that lasts forever.

Armin is the feeling of stopping off on the side of the road because you saw a field of horses on a long road trip and begged him to stop so you could pet the one horse that was close to the fence by the road.

Armin is a soft whisper of an apology after a fight.

Armin is constant reassurance of, “you’re so beautiful.” “you’re all i want. forever.”

Armin is gushing about you when you’re not around. Talking about everything he loves about you. Comments like “oh yeah, that’s y/n’s favorite-”

Armin is soft prayers at night of “I don’t know if there’s anyone up there. Or if anyone’s listening, but let me have her forever. Please. Don’t ever take her away from me. I’ll do anything.”

Armin is taking pictures of you in a field of pretty flowers in your favorite dress.

Armin is the unbelievable, overwhelming feeling of “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her.” as he watches you twirl around in the bright sunflowers, your beauty outshining it all.

Armin is gentle love. Constant Public Displays of Affection. Quick, sweet pecks against your forehead. Kisses littered across your face accompanied by a plethora of “I love you’s!”

Levi is the feeling of late night drinks on a rooftop bar in the city. The city skyline is twinkling just as the stars above, one arm wrapped around your waist and holding the railing as you look out past the buildings, head rested on the shoulder of the man you loved the most.

Levi is not having to pump gas yourself since you first started this relationship. Whether you were driving or not, it didn’t matter. He was far too insistent and you gave up arguing with the gesture.

Levi is low hums as he folds the laundry, bringing the freshly washed and still warm blanket to you in the other room where you were doing work, wrapping it around your shoulders before placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Levi is deep, passionate kisses while doing the most random of tasks, leaving you breathless before he walks away as if it was just an innocent act.

Levi is picking you up from your spot on the couch and carrying you to bed after falling asleep halfway through a movie you promised you wouldn’t fall asleep during because, “Baby, I’m not even that tired. I promise.”

Levi is a hand on your thigh every time you’re in the car. Even if you’re in the middle of an argument. Even when you tell him to fuck off.

Levi is an arm instinctively thrown out across your chest to push you back against the seat when “some fucking moron” pulls out in front of him, causing him to slam on the brakes.

Levi is feeling secure every second of being with him.

Levi is knowing you have someone who would not hesitate to kill and die for you.

Levi is tears slowly forming and spilling over to streak his face as he looks up to see you walking towards him at the end of the aisle as he stands at the altar. Walking towards the rest of your life.

Jean is the feeling of hugs from behind and a cheesy greeting of hands over your eyes and a “Guess who!”

Jean is texts of “Have you eaten?” “Do you need anything?” “i’m proud of you.”

Jean is unexpected small gifts because “I saw this at the store and it reminded me of you.”

Jean is flowers on a random Tuesday because “it’s been two weeks since I got you flowers, I’m slacking.”

Jean is dancing in the rain.

Jean is being parked on a cliff above the city just like in the movies, sitting on the hood of the car as you listen to whatever new indie artist he liked.

Jean is the first time “i love you” is uttered as you share two ear buds, holding hands as you lay upon the same car hood, staring up at the sky. His eyes filling with tears as he turned his face to the side, watching you as you close your eyes, gradually letting the music invade all of your thoughts before he spoke up, ripping you from your trance. “I’m so in love with you.”

Jean is going out with friends and never once making you feel bad when you ask to go home a bit earlier than expected, an immediate “Okay, baby. Let’s head out.”

Jean is wanting to grow together, experiencing every milestone together.

Jean is applying to the same schools as you after graduating. Opening your letters at the same time, both of you accepted, jumping up and down with the biggest of smiles, kissing as he congratulates you, “We’re going to take on the world together, baby. This is the start of forever.”

Jean is crossing the stage with you as you now graduate college together. Ready to walk through life hand in hand. Just like he promised four years ago; forever.

Connie is the feeling of a late night swim in the ocean. Waves freezing and beating against your torsos. Splashing water and squealing each time you felt the cold drops come your way.

Connie is body shaking laughter, tears streaming down your face, hardly a sound coming from your throat. Adding onto each other’s scenarios to make it funnier and funnier.

Connie is 3am drives to grab food at a drive thru before coming home and watching food competition shows where he swears he “could cook better than those amateurs. How do you forget the fondant?!! Idiots!”

Connie is inviting everyone you know over the second you buy your new home together, a huge family dinner, looking around at all of the people you now consider family. Thinking, if you could freeze any moment and live it over again for the rest of your life, it would be this. It would be Sasha and Mikasa helping you set the table. Eren and Jean teasing Connie about “You let her talk you into a rock that big? Damn, Connie, you’re down bad.” as Sasha and Mikasa told them to shut up, that your new engagement ring was worth more than their entire existence.

Connie is never a dull moment. Connie is spontaneity. Connie is new adventures the second you say “I wanna go here”.

[softjaegerhours]

I LOVE THIS!! the banter between them was so cute <3

FRATS WITH BENEFITS

jean kirstein x f!reader

wc: 4.6k

warnings: alcohol consumption (not underage bc everyone is a college senior) and of w**d mentions, frat boy antics, and sexual jokes (no actual smut tho!). Mentions of a tiktok audio and references to Naruto. Canon-typical horse face jokes. Author does not have a real idea of how frats work so all knowledge is gathered from Neighbors (2014). i tried to be as inclusive as posssible but there are height jokes bc author is short, so to my queens built like megan thee stallion i love u but we know jean he would still try and make fun of your height affectionately. (please let me know if I miss anything!)

a/n:  eee so this is like my first fic ever, so i’m happy I finished in time for daddy jean’s birthday. special shout out to @welcometotheclubhoe for bribing me to write this with a juicy kiss and allowing me to yell about fratboy!jean in her inbox and @aiiishiiiteru​ for beta-ing and sending me jean tiktoks to feed the brainrot much luv <3 <3 

It’s a dingy basement with a ceiling lined with LED lights, but then again, you can’t exactly expect gala-level ambiance when it comes to the decor choices of your average frat house. The only thing that had separated the last one from this house was the fact that the ceiling remained glowing green as opposed to the irritating strobe of the Alpha Nu House. Otherwise, it was the same throbbing bass that flowed through the house, the same games of Beer Pong that occurred out in the backyards, just with different players. You and your sorority had been at this for what had felt like hours: hitting up house after house on Frat Row as a part of your Welcome Week tradition. A tradition that always starts with the tipsy promise at the pregame of sticking the whole night together and ending up at a tattered vinyl booth in the back of Sawney & Beans. 

A promise, which, has never been kept during your four years at the University of Sina. 

After Sasha had insisted on staying behind with the cute blonde who had the recipe to the ultimate munchies snack, the group was now down to four. Hitch and Historia were enjoying themselves on the makeshift dance floor, Ymir had gone drink hunting, and you were standing in the corner, waiting for your social battery to recharge as you nursed the soft buzz in your body with whatever the house had come up with as a passible drink. The numbers 12:30 glared back up at you as you glanced at your phone, tucking it back into your pocket with a sigh. Just thirty more minutes, Hitch had begged. Let’s just stop by at one more house, she said, and you found yourself caving when she promised you your meal was on her. 

Keep reading

[softjaegerhours]

now yk i have an obsession w baseball players 😭 jean’s right i’m losing my mf mind rn

I’M ACTUALLY EARLY ENOUGH TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS YAY 😭😭

okay okay okay so i’m thinking 236 with plug!eren. i feel like he’d love to see you wearing his things like wearing his hoodie after six could easily start up a round two.

and then that last chapter got me thinking abt 116 w/ him too, i can’t wait to see a more possessive/protective side to him in the future possibly 👀 that “my girl” had me feeling things lol

and then 8 for jean. i have no specific reason, he’s just sexy and i’m impulsive so i wanna fuck him there, but he’s also tall as hell so it would be a struggle for him LMAO

this was just an excuse to talk to you abt plug!eren and jean, please don’t think i’m expecting drabble from you i just wanna ramble 😭😭🥹

DLFADLFDA hi bestie!!!! you're so full of ideas i literally love it so much i just.....you're so right. ESP about plug!eren he's so possessive on the low and he tries to hold himself back but he can't always help himself. like, he def has you dressed up all in his little hoodies and t-shirts and you're always covered in little bites and bruises and hickeys and going through dozens of bottles of concealer and he absolutely gets you a little necklace with an E charm on it like that's not canon but it's canon <333 i LOVE him!!!!

but your idea with jean....i....i simply couldn't resist....

NSFW below the cut >:)

The first thing you learned about Jean Kirschstein was that his ego knows no bounds. He isn't a selfish person, quite the opposite, actually, but as the starting pitcher for Paradis University's top-ranking baseball team, he has a constant supply of ego-fueling screams from the stands to keep his self-image bloated and well-fed.

Hundreds of girls screaming their name would make any man unreasonably confident, but Jean has the gall to blame his borderline-conceit on you of all people. You expect me not to have a big head when I have a girlfriend this gorgeous? C'mon babe, be serious.

Jean's favorite way to feed his ego, by extension, is by taking you anywhere he wants, any time. Considering that he leaves your legs shaking and your voice raspy, you're not one to complain, but this tendency of his does force you into some rather suspect situations.

Take tonight, for example. The Paradis Devils pulled a 5-3 victory off over the Marley Warriors, their conference rival, and it was, frankly, mostly thanks to Jean's signature curveball pitch. When he eyed you in the stands from the pitch, a toothpick sticking out from his smirk and a dark glint to his smile that only you knew how to interpret, the deafening cheers in the stadium faded to a low hum in comparison to the rush of blood to your face.

"Jean, we're going to get caught-"

"Sh," Jean hushes you, shoving you none-too-gently against the door of his flashy pickup truck, "who cares?"

"Me," you whine pitifully into his mouth, already limp and malleable in his strong hands.

"Not going to help me celebrate my victory? You know you're the reason we won," Jean mouths his way down your neck, pulling a whimper from you, "do it all for you, baby."

"But there's people around Jean, the game just let out."

"Hop in, then," Jean smacks your ass playfully, "windows are tinted, remember?"

As if you don't know the windows are tinted, not after Jean's last game, the baseball banquet, your Honor's Society awards dinner...you acquiesce him with a roll of your eyes, clambering up into the backseat.

Jean follows you, hazel eyes hooded and hungry and hat backwards on his head, never letting his hands drift from you for long. He wrestles his jersey off before climbing in, tossing it carelessly into the passenger seat and laying his long body over yours. He reaches back and fumbles for the door handle, finally finding purchase and swinging it closed, only to accidentally thwack his leg, shooting his body forward and consequently knocking your head into the opposite door.

"Fuck."

"Ow!"

"Car sex always looks so much easier in the movies," Jean winces, shaking his head.

"Then why can't we just wait until we get home? Your apartment's only five minutes away," you giggle, only half-meaning your words when Jean's muscled torso is pressing into your heated skin.

Jean doesn't answer at first, instead dipping his hand down to rub insistently over your clothed, pulsing cunt. He chuckles darkly at your responding moan, the way your hips buck up desperately into his hand, betraying your words.

"If you think you're getting out of this car without my cum dripping down your legs, you've lost your goddamn mind."