Hana no Omoide

❀ Memoirs of a Flower ❀ She / her- +20 ❀ MINORS DNI WITH NSFW

[wasurenagusaa]

ℕ𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕘𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

ABOUT ME ❀ By / Rules

OMOIDE ❀ Masterlist

OFFER ME A FLOWER ❀ Ask

❀ Recent Work - Moth to a Flame

❀ Askbox : Open / Request : Close

©2021 Wasurenagusaa. Please do not repost or modify my work elsewhere. I only post on Tumblr, if you see my content on other websites, please report it.

[whats-her-quirk]

The Only True Language

jean kirstein x reader 18+ (minors do not interact) warnings: clubbing, alcohol/drinking, very suggestive dancing, exhibitionism, begging, google translate French wc: 6.6k

Le seul vrai langage au monde est un baiser. -Alfred de Musset

“The only true language in the world is a kiss.”

You’re excited to get into the club, mostly because it’s cold standing outside in your little dress and heels. You wonder if it wasn’t a coincidence when Hitch talked you out of wearing jeans and flats to girls’ night—if maybe she’d planned to drag you out dancing after hopping a couple bars. At the door, she drops Marlowe’s name, the guy she’s been seeing, who texted her to meet him here, and you and your three closest girlfriends are ushered through the door.

You can feel the music through the floor when you step into the main room. It gives off a classy vibe; this is not the kind of place where your shoes will stick to the floor. The decor is mainly black and purple, illuminated by blue and purple neon lights embedded into pillars and the floor. The bar, also illuminated in blue, lines the far side of the dance floor, and a DJ spins records at the front of the room. Booths and tables line the other two sides of the dance floor, most of them already occupied.

Your group quickly splinters: Hitch runs off to find her beau while Annie and Mikasa want to go dance. You tell them you’ll find them after you hit up the bar. You’ve been drinking for a few hours, alternating between alcohol and water, so you’re comfortably buzzed, but you’d like another drink in you before you dive into the crowd of sweaty, albeit well-dressed, bodies. It takes some bobbing and weaving to make it across the room, but soon enough, you have your stomach pressed up against the bar, waiting for the bartender’s attention.

As you tap the corner of your credit card against the polished wood in front of you, you get that uncanny feeling that someone is looking at you. Nervously, you play with a piece of hair by your ear before glancing around. While trying not to be too obvious, you spot a man out of the corner of your eye, and he’s staring. You only catch a quick glimpse of him—longish, tawny hair and an equally long, pointed chin—before the bartender swings by again and catches your attention.

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[whats-her-quirk]

babymaker

jean kirstein x fem!reader 18+ warnings: breeding, brief mommy kink, sickeningly sweet domesticity wc: 4.4k

Though your vacation together was near perfect, the journey home was not. After a six hour delay and an equally long flight, Jean books it up the ramp, desperate to stretch his long legs and get a cell signal. He’s half a head taller than everyone else; he knows you’ll see him and catch up. He parks himself next to a soft pretzel stand, knowing you’ll probably want something to eat sooner rather than later, and waits for his phone to blow up after he takes it off airplane mode. As expected, you buy a snack from the stand as the texts from his mother come flooding in.

Mom: Ok, have a safe flight. I’ll be there to pick you up when you get back.

Mom: What do you two want for dinner?

Mom: Oops your phone is probably off. I’ll make something you like.

Mom: Jeanbo I might be a little late to pick you up. Let me know when you land. Love you. 

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[whats-her-quirk]

Midnight Ride

jean kirstein x reader 18+ warnings: late 1800s misogyny, angsty pining, mentions of virginity, mentions of alcoholism, unwanted advances/assault by minor character, explicit gun violence, blood, explicit sexual content, intercrural sex, breeding wc: 16k+ a/n: Insert every horseface joke ever. This was written for the Western collab by The Smut Pile server, and you should make sure to check out everyone’s wild west pieces on the masterlist here.

It’s windy outside today, occasional gusts blowing clouds of dirt into the air before it settles back onto the grass and the wildflowers that grow in the pasture on the other side of the corral. False sunflowers and milkweed bend at the stems before straightening again, reaching up toward the blazing late-spring sun. You watch them out the window, staring through the glass as your mama sits behind you, brushing and braiding your hair in a halo around your head. You sigh, impatient at the time it takes her to create the intricate crown that pulls at your scalp when you’d rather just twist it all to one side and be done with it.

She hums as her fingers cross and pull, and she explains the unfamiliar patterns so that you can pass them along to your own daughters someday. When she finally reaches the ends of your hair, she takes a ribbon and ties off the braid at the nape of your neck, tucking any flyaways under. “So pretty,” she muses, more to herself than you. “I wager any man would think the same.” Then she sighs. “Well, not too pretty I hope. Your Pa should be back soon with the new ranch hands he hired. Hopefully they’re well-behaved. Wear one of your plain dresses.”

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[whats-her-quirk]

dutch courage

jean kirstein x fem!reader 18+ (minors do not interact) warnings: angst with a happy ending, insecurity, alcohol, mild blood, wall sex, biting, light exhibitionism, praise kink, possessiveness, cum marking, the cheesiest ending wc: 7.5k a/n: this fic was inspired by the song of the same name by The Spill Canvas and is part of the pseudo-songfic-collab that I’m doing with @titan-fodder. Thanks mel and @karikarasuno​ for proofreading and providing moral support. This fic has been sitting in my wips for months and I’m so happy to finally share it. It means a lot to me ok bye.

playlist:  dutch courage by the spill canvas do it again by steely dan a case of you by joni mitchell

Jean squeezes the steering wheel, jaw set tight as he watches the road ahead. You’re only a few exits away from his hometown, familiar sights passing by on either side of the highway. It’s not the first time he’s brought you to visit, but he’s as tense as he was the first time he introduced you to his mom, who still lives here in the house he grew up in.

You lean forward and turn down the radio, sighing before you break the lull in conversation. “Getting excited yet?” You tuck your hands between your thighs, no doubt trying to hide your own excitement.

Jean sighs. “Not really.” He doesn’t mean to sound like such a downer, but he can’t help it. His stomach turns at the thought of all the people he’s going to have to face.

You reach across the center console to rub his shoulder and play with a piece of hair behind his ear, and he feels some momentary comfort at your touch. “Aw, come on. You only get one ten-year high school reunion.”

The corner of Jean’s mouth twitches and he huffs. “Right, I graduated ten years ago, so I thought all the high school bullshit was behind me.” One more exit to go. He moves over into the right lane.

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[whats-her-quirk]

Regulars

erwin smith x reader 18+ warnings: explicit content, big hand kink vibes, praise, fingering, oral, face riding (because it’s erwin and I have no self control), overstim, squirting (it’s as close as I could get to pizz for you), a touch of cum eating, creampie, some age kink, & authority kink for good measure wc: 13k (I’m so fucking sorry) a/n: Words cannot contain the joy I felt when I learned that @present-mel​ was my elf for our server’s secret santa. I knew I had to write you some aot goodness, and because I wanted this to be all indulgence with no angst involved, I went straight for the commander and a good old-fashioned coffeeshop AU. Mel, you know that I adore you. Get comfy because this is a long one.

With a soapy rag draped over your hand, you wash off the tables in the coffeeshop just like you did the day before. You clean mugs and teacups, pour cups of black coffee and whip up iced mochas, take money and give change, all just like yesterday and the yesterday before that. Even as the morning rush is about to really start, today will be more of the same.

You’ve been working at Scout Coffee for close to four years since you graduated from the university a few miles away. Unfortunately, choosing a major had been a struggle for you, and your Bachelor of Science hadn’t led to any promising job prospects that didn’t come with huge drawbacks—shitty hours, shitty pay, shitty bosses, the lot. So instead of sitting in a call center or manning the front desk of some office building all day, you landed at the coffeeshop, which turned out to be a pretty decent place to land.

You like being a barista; you really do. You enjoy learning to make different coffees and breakfast sandwiches (your friends are very impressed with the way you froth milk for them, even at home). You enjoy the hip atmosphere of Scout, with its mismatched tables and walls covered in vintage posters. You love picking the music that pumps quietly through the speakers just above the counter. And you even enjoy making conversation with customers, many of which are regulars you know by name at this point. You feel comfortable here, and you’ve become close with many of your coworkers.

Still, you’re getting a little bored, a little restless. You’re perfectly happy, but the monotony of spending 40-plus hours per week within the same four walls is starting to get old. Your life is a cycle of work, reading, video games, and sleep. You meet up with your friends weekly for DND, but lately, you haven’t felt up to much more socializing than that. Between your bills and student loans, you can’t afford the vacation you desperately need, so instead, you lean your elbows on top of the dessert case and sigh, wishing something interesting would happen—something to shake things up a little bit.

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[whats-her-quirk]

milk

jean kirstein x reader 18+ (minors dni) warnings: lactation, semi-public sex, mommy kink wc: 3.5k

“I’ll stay here, you two go ahead and have fun.” Jean’s mother had been all too eager when you got the group text from Sasha. Niccolo had just proposed, and they wanted everyone to come out to the cocktail bar they were at and celebrate with them. You had sighed wistfully, realizing how much you missed your friends. Your social life had been mostly put on hold for the past month since your daughter was born—justifiably so. You and Jean were both completely smitten with her, plus getting the hang of this ‘new parent’ thing had been pretty intense. You’d never been away from your baby since she was born, never more than a few paces away whenever she needed you, so the possibility of going somewhere without her hadn’t even crossed your mind.

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[whats-her-quirk]

treasured memories

erwin smith x fem!reader 18+ (minors do not interact) warnings: public sex, exhibitionism, oral, size kink, biting, photography wc: 2.5K a/n: Oh how I have missed writing for this big, blonde beefcake. This is my entry for Jay @welcometotheclubhoe​​‘s all around the world collab. Make sure you check out the whole masterlist (is nsfw is your deal. If it’s not, why are you here). 

Being the best man’s wedding date sounds like it would be glamorous, but it’s not. Not that you aren’t having a good time: the venue is lovely, the food is delicious, and the bar is free. It’s just that it doesn’t feel like much of a date yet.

Again, you’re not complaining. You wouldn’t begrudge Erwin for standing up with Miche on his big day—of course not. But you haven’t spoken to him since he left early this morning, garment bag folded over his arm. You got ready alone, sat down at the ceremony alone, and even at your chatty reception table, you still feel kind of alone. So as dinner comes to an end, you poke idly at the condensation on the side of your cocktail glass, gazing up toward the head table where your date is sitting.

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[whats-her-quirk]

e major

erwin smith x fem!reader 18+ mdni warnings: former college professor/student relationship, age gap, rich boy Erwin, desecration of a piano (do not do this at home), fingering, oral wc: 1k thanks to @thegetoufather and @ghost-party for enabling

♪

“You play piano?”

You’re standing over Erwin’s shoulder as he pulls out the wooden bench to sit at the old piano in your parents’ house.

“A little.” His fingers twitch a bit above the keys before he plays a few notes. It’s not at all in tune.

To your knowledge, nobody has ever played it. Your parents no longer live in the house you grew up in, and they got the piano as a condition of the sale of the new one. The old owners didn’t want to pay to move it, so your folks have been using the upright as a shelf to display picture frames on top of.

When Erwin lifts the cover off the keys, it throws a cloud of dust in the air.

“I took lessons when I was young, up until I was 14 or 15 maybe.” Erwin’s fingers dance up the keyboard, deftly crossing over each other as he works his way up and down a melody. “After college, I started taking lessons again to get my chops back.”

“How come I never knew that?” You slide in next to him on the bench until your shoulder brushes his.

Erwin pauses to catch your eye and smile. “I’ve never had the chance to show you.” As his hands move independently, the left playing a different part than his right, your parents wander into the dining room, curious about where the music is coming from.

It’s the first time he’s meeting them, officially, as your boyfriend. You were nervous, having only recently broken the news to them that not only are you in a relationship, but the man you’re with is your former professor and a decade older than you. You’re not in his classes anymore—you’re starting grad school, and he teaches history and mythology to undergrads. They’re taking it surprisingly well, keeping conversation light by discussing his current syllabus instead of prying into his intentions with their child.

By the time he finishes the song he’s playing, your charming boyfriend has won them over for sure.

“You really pulled out all the stops tonight,” you tease him on the car ride home.

“How so?” He doesn’t look away from the road, but you can see him smirking.

“You know, the after-dinner show?”

He’s quiet for a beat. “Should I not have done that?”

“No, it was fine. It was really nice, actually. Just unexpected.”

Erwin chuckles. “If I’m being honest, I was getting a little nervous. I needed something to do with my hands.”

You lean over the center console to rest your head against his arm. “Well, you can play for me any time you want.”

You discover that although Erwin doesn’t own a piano, he makes good use of his faculty ID to swipe himself into practice rooms in the music building. Now that you know his little secret, he invites you to come along and listen to him practice after his classes are done for the day. You sit side by side on the bench, and you flip the pages on the sheet music he printed out while he taps out a new song on a keyboard that’s actually in tune.

When Erwin invites you to spend the next holiday break with his family, you don’t hesitate to accept. You’ve heard wonderful things about his father, and you’re excited to finally meet him. After a couple hours in the car, you arrive at his family’s enormous home in the country.

“Dad is out of town for work, so it’ll be just the two of us here tonight,” Erwin explains as he gives you a tour of the house. 

“Oh, no. What will we do all by ourselves?” 

You do your best not to gawk, but it’s basically a mansion, and there’s just so much to look at, from the art on the walls to the plush furniture to—

“You have a grand piano?” Glass-inset french doors lead into a cozy room off the second living room, where the sleek, black instrument takes up the majority of the floor space.

“Actually, it’s only a parlor grand,” Erwin says, matter-of-factly.

“Oh, excuse my ignorance,” you tease before taking a seat on the bench. This one has a tufted cushion, which you take the liberty to bounce on.

Erwin crosses his arms proudly. “It’s a smaller model. A concert grand wouldn’t fit in the room.”

“Of course.” When you lift the cover, there is no dust cloud.

After a few minutes of letting you plink on the keys—they’re nicely weighted and feel great, even to your non-skilled hands—Erwin takes his usual spot on the bench next to you. He doesn’t make it far into the song he’s been practicing before abandoning it to pepper your neck in kisses.

His mouth finds yours while his body gently guides you to his liking. He closes the fallboard and coaxes you up onto it, lips hardly breaking from you.

“We shouldn’t…”

“It’ll be fine. I promise.”

Once you’re seated, Erwin opens your legs to stand between them, deft fingers pushing your skirt up and your panties to the side. He skims fingertips along your folds as he continues to kiss you, stroking you to produce an entirely different kind of music with your moans.

When he sits down on the bench, you think he might have had his fill, but you’re wrong. He delves between your thighs, nose brushing over your sex before he laps you up. His tongue is hot against you, your head thrown back with every slurp and groan he makes. You call out his name, toes curling where they’re braced against the edge of the bench, his fingers digging into the sides of your thighs. After you break, he licks you clean, sending you right back to the edge again.

Together, you stumble to the sofa in the next room, where Erwin strips you down and sinks himself into your heat with one of your legs over his shoulder. He knows exactly how to play you until you both climax in tandem. As you lie together after, basking, you’ve never been more sure that another heartbeat falls perfectly in time with yours.

[whats-her-quirk]

Behind Closed Doors

porco galliard x reader 18+ warnings: femdom, oral, slight mommy kink wc: 1.7k a/n: I asked for thirsts. @pleasantanathema gave me an idea that was supposed to be a drabble, and it turned into full blown PWP filth. Enjoy. 

He doesn’t know you’re behind him when he says it; otherwise, he would have probably thought to keep his mouth shut. Porco stands with his weight on one leg, hips cocked and hands in his pockets, talking to Reiner outside the mess hall. You took your dinner in your room because you had some plans to look over, and you assume you’re catching them on the way out after their meal. Judging by his body language, Reiner wants to leave, but Porco just keeps talking.

“Yeah, she sleeps over in my room almost every night now.” Obviously, he’s talking about you. Your budding relationship isn’t necessarily a secret, but you didn’t think he’d go bragging about the dirty details to the first person he saw. You slow your pace to a stop and listen.

“Good for you,” Reiner mumbles. He starts to inch around the corner, then pulls his foot back. He definitely sees you, but he doesn’t show it on his face. “She good in bed?” Reiner’s voice changes; you can tell he’s just trying to bait Porco into saying something stupid in front of you.

It works.

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[whats-her-quirk]

Below Freezing

captain!jean kirstein x reader 18+ warnings: explicit content, idiots to lovers, authority kink, marking, multiple orgasms, light exhibitionism, begging, light breeding kink, creampie wc: 7.5k a/n: Starting off the year right with my true husband of husbands. This is an alternate canon where Jean is promoted to captain at age 21, and this piece takes place two years after that. What I’m saying is that everyone is of-age here, and the events of season 4 of the anime probably haven’t happened. Don’t think too much into it. I hope you enjoy. TAG @mindninjax​ @some-kindofgnome​

The trees are thick in this part of the forest, the trunks as wide around as castle towers. It’s hard enough to navigate this dense growth in ODM gear to begin with, but then it started snowing. You still have a long way to travel, your rendezvous point for this mission waiting on the far side of the trees, still miles away. Your face, your hands, your feet: all of them are freezing, and the snow is only getting worse. There wasn’t supposed to be a storm tonight; otherwise, this simple recon mission would have been delayed. You’re about to call out to your team, to ask if anyone else’s limbs are so cold that they can barely control their midair movements, when your side slams into a tree branch you couldn’t even see through the heavy snowfall.

You cry out in pain, clutching your ribs on your right side. It doesn’t feel like you broke anything, but it hurts enough to knock the wind out of you. Your wires go slack and you plummet down several feet in the air, snowy limbs soaking your coat and trousers as they brush against you. You’re falling, falling, until two long arms wrap around your middle and pull you upward again.

You can’t tell who caught you until you hear him shouting over your head. “Visibility is too low for maneuvering! Find a branch and we’ll wait out the storm!” You’d know that voice anywhere; you’d heard it every day for the past two years, since you were selected for his squad: Captain Kirstein.

You squeeze the triggers on your hand grips, releasing your wires now that you’re safely in Jean’s grasp. He loosens one arm from your waist to aim and sink his anchor into the trunk of a massive tree that suddenly comes into view through the snow. For someone as large and lanky as he is, it’s a wonder he’s known for being the best in the scouts with an ODM. But even while holding you tight to the front of him, he soars and lands effortlessly on a wide horizontal branch in the canopy before setting you softly on your feet.

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[arlert-angel]

love fast, die young ☪

♡ jean x fem!reader

❥ you know that at any moment your life could be cut short as a scout, and the last thing you want is to die a virgin, so why not ask your best friend that you’re in love with for some help?

❥ wc: 5.8k

❥ cw: near death experience (reader), virgin!reader and virigin!jean, cannonverse but no plot, loss of virginity, slight size kink, cream pie, aftercare, fluff

❥ note: i was invested in the story of this one lol, it’s a lot more romantic than i initially intended. they’re aged up, but the cannonverse details don’t make sense for the plot, so let’s pretend it does yay.

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[capricornlevi]

❛ i’m not jealous. ❜ + AOT Jean 👀👀

ahhh thank u my love! i love jean too much so this turned from a drabble into a fic lmao he awakens something in me 😭😭❤️

jean kirstein x f!reader (wc 5.5k)

brief mention of reiner x reader, nsfw content (fingering, handjobs, vaginal sex, semi-public sex, 'hold the moan', praise kink), alcohol use (all sex sober & consensual)

nsfw - minors/ageless blogs do not interact!

"Your turn."

You don't hear Jean's voice at first, his words drowned out by the raucous cheering of the others sitting on the living room floor. It's loud in here, almost deafening, and he's sitting at the other end of the circle with six or so people sitting on either side of you. He repeats himself, but again, his words are lost to the sound of your friends reacting to the last round of spin-the-bottle.

The whole party had agreed to the game after surprisingly little convincing, and you've sat watching everyone take their turns for the last half-hour. You haven't been selected yet. Eren's spin was a close call having landed only a couple inches to your right, but you agreed without objection that it definitely stopped in front of Mikasa.

Any hope of you hearing Jean’s voice disappears once your friends start to cheer loudly once more. You let out a little laugh and a clap at seeing Eren's obvious blush after he shuffled back to his place in the circle. It’s sweet.

You're sitting cross-legged, a beer in one hand and your phone in the other, trying (in vain, since Connie keeps accidentally pushing you as he hops up to grab drinks) to text your roommate to tell her you won't be home til tomorrow (Mikasa's offered you the couch, and how can you say no when the party's just kicking off now?)

Before today, you had never really liked the idea of spin-the-bottle. It always seemed like a cheesy, immature game that people only play as a last resort, when the party has become so dull that the only other option is leaving. But surprisingly, tonight is starting to get fun; you can’t deny that the game is contributing to that. Everyone's at that stage of tipsiness where it's all flushed cheeks and laughter without anyone getting too messy. All of your friends are approaching the game lightheartedly, and you can’t help but feel you were too cynical at the start of the night.

Nobody here is actually dating one another - officially, at least - so the potential for hurt feelings is kept to a minimum.

You're distracted by an elbow to the ribs, deliberate but not forceful, just enough to get you to pay attention to the person next to you. You turn to Connie, brows furrowed as you try to see what he wants from you.

"Apparently it's your turn," he informs you, eyes shifting to the opposite side of the room as he speaks. "So I've been told three times now."

Setting your phone down on the floor (a safe distance away from your beer), you smile at the eager faces looking over at you. They must have been waiting for you to take your turn for a couple of minutes now.

You crawl to the centre of the circle without further hesitation and with a flick of your wrist, you spin the green-glass bottle that's been the centre of everyone's focus this evening.

It makes a light clink as it spins and your heart rate quickens unexpectedly. The room has gone quiet with anticipation as it has done for earlier rounds too, but you suddenly feel a lot of pressure for a reason you can't quite ascertain.

It spins for what seems like twice as long as everyone else's turn, but finally it starts to slow down, the whirling sound of the glass on the wooden floor getting slower and slower ...

The bottle clinks to a halt in front of Reiner.

A boorish cheer rises from the others in the circle and you grin. Reiner isn't the worst option … on the contrary, he's actually one of the better ones. He’s handsome, sure, but you know the two of you don’t have any prospect of a romantic future - you had gone on a few dates in freshman year and soon learned that it's difficult to get him to stop talking about the gym for more than five minutes - so sharing a quick kiss shouldn’t make things weird between the two of you.

It’s not the first time you’ve done this, after all; he’s a decent kisser if memory serves. He'll do fine.

That being said, you try to ignore a strange feeling brewing in the back of your mind. It's subtle but it's there, gnawing at you - not exactly a feeling of disappointment, you don't think. Even if it is disappointment, it's certainly not because the bottle landed on Reiner.

You think it’s because the bottle didn't land on someone else.

Shaking off that feeling, you shift your legs so you're sitting comfortably in the centre of the circle. Reiner rolls his eyes when he sees you're waiting for him to come to you, but he obliges anyway.

"Hi," you say with a little laugh, unsure of how else to greet him.

"Hi," he repeats, grinning back, and once he sees that you’re ready he doesn’t wait for even a beat longer. He leans down to press his lips against yours.

As spin-the-bottle kisses go, it's good. Reiner knows what he's doing. He moves his lips against yours gently but firmly, and he doesn't push it by trying to slip you some tongue or anything. It's not heated or passionate, but it's nice. It's fine, just as you thought.

About ten seconds pass before you pull back, the cheers of your friends ringing in your ears.

That strange, inexplicably disappointed feeling is still there as you slip back to your space in the circle, eyes scanning the group as you take your place on the floor once again.

As chants of 'you're next' start to ring out again, you're relieved to see that it's Connie who's being summoned. The fact that he's next to take a turn means he can't try to annoy you about the kiss, and it means you have time to knock back the last of your beer before texting your housemate.

However, when you've settled back down and taken a steadying breath, you don't pick up your phone. Instead you glance around the circle in front of you again, properly taking stock of everyone’s reaction this time.

Eren's still blushing - that's kind of adorable, actually - and Reiner is looking surprisingly reserved next to him. He’s not too smug, thankfully. That would be annoying.

Sasha and Niccolo are cheering with their bottles, their arms thrown affectionately around each other. Next to then, Armin is laughing at some joke that Hitch has whispered into his ear.

Your eyes land on Jean next. He looks ... well, you're not really sure how he looks. He's wearing an expression you haven't seen on him before.

He certainly doesn't look happy but he's not angry, either; an almost-sullen look is written on his face, his features are neutral but his eyes are glowering as he meets your gaze across the room. His expression is uncharacteristically impassive.

He’s usually animated, chatty, confident; now, he’s near-impossible to read. You’d never thought Jean would be anything but an open book, but you cannot for the life of you determine how he’s feeling.

You quirk the corners of your lips up into a soft smile just to see if he responds, and he glances away.

It's not harsh, it's just the action of someone who’s stuck in his own reverie, but that strange feeling still weighs on you.

___

The hours pass quickly and the party slowly starts to die down. Because of the size of the group, you had just played one round of spin-the-bottle, but a few well-timed suggestions for other games (flip cup, Kings, amongst others) means that you're kept busy for most of the night.

It provides a welcome distraction for whatever unsettling realisation you had while sitting in the circle; that maybe, somewhere deep down, you could imagine kissing one of your friends.

That you want to kiss one of your friends, and that you’re torturing yourself with the thought that maybe he wants to kiss you too.

Checking your phone screen, you're informed that the time is now well after three a.m. This makes sense considering almost everyone who doesn't live here has now left, leaving the room more empty than you’d seen it in a while.

The apartment is shared by Mikasa, Sasha, Eren, and Connie, all of whom are now trying to pluck crushed-up solo cups from the kitchen floor so the mess isn't as bad tomorrow.

Apart from them, you and Jean are the only two remaining. Turns out Eren had offered Jean the couch too, unbeknownst to you or Mikasa, and it was too late for him to call a cab at this point.

Neither of you had discussed what you’re going to do about it.

"Guys, we can clean up," you offer, going to take the plastic bag from Sasha so you can pick up where she left off. "It'll give us some time to sort out who's taking the couch."

Sasha’s brow furrows. “Are you sure?"

“Positive.”

"Yep, sounds good," Jean agrees then, following your lead. "I can take the floor, anyway. All I need is a pillow and I'm good."

You look at him, unsure. You don’t want him to have a sleepless night for your sake. “Really?"

"I've slept worse places," he replies with the faintest of smiles. "Eren and Connie don't let me forget it."

"He passed out under an oak tree after a party last semester," Eren pipes up, answering your question before you even have to ask it. "Woke up covered in leaves."

"Maybe the floor isn't so bad, then," you acknowledge, though still throw him a quick glance - an 'are you sure?' sort of look - and he nods so as to put your mind at ease.

"As long as you're okay with it?" he asks. “Since you’ll be here too.”

You agree.

“Sounds good to me.”

___

"Are you gonna help me clean up, or just stand there eating that shitty pizza?"

Your playful taunt doesn't do anything to convince Jean to set down his meal. You shove a plastic cup into the bag for dramatic effect, and all it makes him do is laugh.

It's a nice sound. Unfortunately.

"They said they wanted to make a start on the clean-up, not finish it," he mumbles through a mouthful of pizza. "You're going overboard."

"I'm being considerate," you reply with faux indignance. "And I'm not tired yet."

"Then have some pizza."

"It's cold, Jean."

"It's best when it's cold!"

You pull a face. "It's not."

"Then stick it in the microwave," he responds without hesitation.

"It'll wake them all up!"

"With the noise you're making now they'll barely even hear it," Jean retorts, leaning down to pick up your bag and shaking the contents to demonstrate his point. Turns out that the sounds of your clean-up are considerably louder than the microwave would be.

"Okay, okay, stop," you chuckle, plying the bag from his hand to stop him from really pissing off your hosts.

"So, pizza?"

"No, I don't wanna go to sleep with garlic breath."

"No garlic on it. I had some before the- that game thing, earlier. And Connie didn't complain."

You laugh at that. "I'm good, still."

Jean sets his pizza down, arms crossed across his chest. That expression from earlier is back. It’s a little unsettling; he’s back to being closed-off, and you don’t know how to react. You’re so accustomed to seeing Jean’s emotions written all over his face.

"That game was something, huh?" he begins. His tone is conversational but you decide to err on the side of caution with your response.

"Yeah, it was fun, I guess."

He nods shortly. He’s looking a bit braver now, eyes peering over at you curiously.

"Yeah, I guess,” he repeats. He shuffles his feet just a little as a beat of silence passes. "So, Reiner and you-?"

He doesn't finish the sentence but trails off like it's a question. You set the bag down with surprise, turning to face him properly now. Mirroring his posture, you cross your arms over your chest. You smile, but likely look as perplexed as you feel.

"What do you mean 'Reiner and me'?"

Your own question isn't hostile, it's just curious. You have no idea where this is coming from.

Jean is starting to blush now, a soft pink hue forming on the bridge of his nose as he tries to form an answer.

"Just ... that was some kiss, I guess."

"Fairly standard," you say dismissively. "Nothing too special."

"Standard?"

"I mean, yeah, standard. For a game of spin-the-bottle, y'know?"

"I-"

He's acting funny. You've never seen him like this; the awkwardness, the staring when he thinks you're not looking, the fact he's dwelling on your kiss with Reiner ...

The realisation hits you out of nowhere as you gasp, interrupting him with a gleeful exclamation of -

"Jean, you're jealous!"

Far past a light blush at this stage, Jean's face is red with embarrassment ... and something else, maybe, but you're not certain. You don’t want to let hope cloud your judgement.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, playing down your excitement.

You're smiling now, confident still that your assumptions are correct. His reaction betrays him.

"Well you're acting jealous, anyway.”

He huffs a breath of air through his nose, shaking his head as if in disagreement (but really, you’re sure it's just to buy himself a little time.)

"I'm not jealous."

Even his outright denials aren't convincing you, and you think he knows that he's losing. He looks thrown-off. Every time he tells you that he isn’t jealous he gets closer and closer to blurting out the truth.

So you decide to put him out of his misery and throw down the gauntlet.

"I saw you looking at me after."

Your words take a moment to land with him. He blinks at you, genuinely surprised, but makes one last attempt at denial.

"After what?”

"After the kiss."

His arms are by his side now and you do the same, not wanting to seem unnecessarily intimidating.

You’re not trying to tease or annoy him.

All you want is for him to admit it, so you can do the same.

Because you wanted Jean to kiss you then. You want him to kiss you now. Maybe you’ve wanted to kiss him for a long time now.

He clears his throat and you meet his gaze head on. One of you will need to take the bait.

When someone finally gives in, it doesn’t come in the form of words. Neither of you says anything out loud.

Instead, Jean takes a step closer to you, testing the waters. Knowing that it isn’t fair for him to take all the action, you move closer too until you’re within touching distance.

He runs his tongue along his lower lip, slowly and carefully, and you look at him through your lashes.

You both snap at the exact same time.

Your mouths join together so quickly the breath is knocked from your chest, so desperate for closeness that you fist your hands into the fabric of his t-shirt to try and pull him closer.

He kisses you messily but it’s just what you need; the momentum built so quickly that just a soft peck on the lips wouldn’t suffice. Encouraged by your reaction he runs his hands along your lower back, fingertips skirting the waistband of your jeans as you slide your fingers up into his hair.

You can feel his smile against your lips. Bolts of excitement rush straight to your chest, increasing tenfold when his tongue pushes into your mouth with a gentle confidence.

Jean is no longer withdrawn, self-conscious, uncertain. This Jean knows exactly what you want from him.

It starts with gentle licks against your tongue, deliberate and tantalising, then grows in intensity until you’re pressed against the countertop, making out with him like two desperate teenagers. He makes little sounds of approval as you run your hands all over him, unsure of where you want to touch next; it all seems so good. You want all of him.

Turns out, this must have been a long time coming.

You kiss him like you’ve been thinking about it for years, since you first met him at freshman orientation. Years of friendship had pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind, but they’re all coming out now, erupting in a haze of want and lust and a need to taste more of him.

You can feel something hard press against your hip as he keeps your body pressed against his. Even through several layers of clothing you can tell he’s impressive, the firm thickness straining against his jeans making your mouth water as you lower your hand to rub it.

Jean exhales low and gravelly, his breath coming out shaky as he tries to keep his hips from bucking against your hands. You’re stroking him now, eager to see more of his reactions to the lightest of touches. He’s so pretty like this.

You both reach the point of needing more, the teasing having reached a threshold where you needed to do something about the throbbing between your legs; rubbing your thighs together had helped just a bit, but you wanted his touch. You need more stimulation, and the look on his face shows he’s ready to give it to you.

There’s just one obstacle …

“We need to be quiet,” he mumbles, pulling away for just a moment. His lips are so kiss-slick and perfect that it takes phenomenal amounts of self control to not lean in and take him into your mouth again. “We need to be really quiet, y’know…”

“I know,” you whisper back. “I know. Probably better to … to move this to the couch. Further away from their bedrooms.”

“Good thinking,” he agrees. You pull back, missing the heat of his body as soon as you do so but the thought of what’s coming next is more than enough motivation. You take his hand and he grins at your eagerness, guiding him into the living room and waiting for him to sit down on the couch before climbing onto his lap to straddle him.

“God, you feel good,” he says, quiet as he can as you pepper kisses along his jawline. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

“Like from earlier-?”

He lets out a breathy laugh. “Longer than that. But yeah, earlier … I wanted you - fucking hell, keep your mouth there - I wanted that bottle to land on me. I wanted you to sit in the centre of that circle and look at me like you did in the kitchen just there, all giggly, like you know exactly what I’m thinking about doing to you.”

“What were you thinking about doing?” you ask, rolling your hips against the bulge in his jeans. He groans and the sound goes straight to your cunt, the wetness between your legs becoming more distracting. You decide to put him (and yourself) out of his misery just a bit, unzipping his pants and taking him out of his underwear.

He’s thick and heavy in your hand, his cock throbbing noticeably when you run a finger along the prominent vein on the underside. You circle the head with your thumb and watch as his breath goes stuttery again, all words having vanished from his vocabulary completely.

But you’re not ready for him to stop talking. You liked what he was saying - liked it a lot - and you need to hear more.

But you won’t go about it without giving him encouragement, of course.

“Tell me what you wanted to do,” you whisper as you start stroking him in earnest.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, lips pulled tight as he tries to keep quiet. He only speaks once your movements start to slow.

“Keep going … please,” he begs softly, “I’ll tell you. Just please keep doing that.”

You resume your pace and he starts speaking.

“I wanted to … wanted to be the one who got to kiss you. Wouldn’t have been like your one with Reiner, though; maybe it’s a good thing it didn’t land on me, because I wouldn’t … fuck … wouldn’t have been able to keep from slipping my tongue into your mouth. Wanted to touch you so bad,” and with the last part of the sentence, he unbuttons your jeans with one hand and starts to tug them down.

You raise your hips from his lap to allow him access, and once he has a better grip he pulls your underwear down as well, baring your wet cunt to the cool air as you sit back down on his lap. The warmth of his skin against your thighs makes you tremble and he notices, slipping that same hand between your legs and sliding his index finger up through your puffy folds.

His thighs are thick and broad and so there’s room for you to keep working him in your hand as he starts playing with you, his legs keeping you spread open for him. He rubs the pearl of your clit with his thumb just as you had teased him a few moments ago, and now it’s you who is unable to articulate any of your thoughts.

“You wanted me to touch you earlier?” he prompts, seeing the already fucked-out expression on your face. When you don’t answer he starts to move his hand away so you open your mouth without even thinking your answer through.

“Yes, I wanted you to touch me,” you gasp when you feel two fingers push inside you, “I wanted you to kiss me in front of everyone then take me back to the kitchen and … fuck, I wanted you to bend me over. I wanted this inside me,” and with a firm upward stroke Jean’s hips buck against you.

With his middle and ring-finger now fucking you open, he uses his thumb to circle your clit with a steady pace that matches your grip on his cock. He keeps going, keeps hitting that place deep inside you that makes you see stars, your wetness and the slick sound of skin touching skin all you can hear.

You’re trying to keep quiet but he’s making it exceptionally difficult. Every twist of his wrist, every flick of his thumb, it’s all so carefully planned. You’re ready for him - you’ve been ready for a while - but it’s near-impossible to verbalise it without letting a moan slip out.

Here you are, spread open on your friends’ couch, with only a couple of walls in the way to stifle any of the lewd noises you’re making … but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re burning for him, your core already tightening around his fingers, and Jean’s cock is flushed with arousal, precum dribbling from the top and coating your palm.

Wordlessly you shift your hips, nearly crying at the loss of sensation when his fingers pull out and you still the motions of your fist. He glances up and you know he’s thinking the same thing you are.

“They keep a box of condoms in the bathroom cabinet,” he says, voice hushed and low, “saw it last time I stayed over.”

You nod and lift yourself from his lap, laying your back down against the couch so Jean can walk to the bathroom. He tugs his pants up over his hips but shrugs off his shirt; you do the same, enjoying the flattering look on Jean’s face as he takes in your naked body for the first time.

He hesitates as if torn between wanting to stay here looking at you bare and wanting beneath him, or going to get the condom so he can actually be inside you - both options have him in a chokehold. He wants to be two places at once.

After you smile up at him, doe-eyed and almost innocent, he makes up his mind. He heads to the bathroom and after a few quiet shuffling noises and the sound of a foil wrapper tearing open, he returns to you, pulling you in for a searing kiss. Any remaining items of clothing are shed as you spread your legs, pulling him down to lay on top of you, the heat of his body against yours driving you insane.

He’s all lean muscle and strength but he’s so gentle with the way he handles you now, resting his palms on your hips as he positions himself to finally fuck you. He meets your gaze one more time, scanning your face with a look that is as enticing as it is heartwarming. He wants you to be comfortable. He wants this to be good for you.

“Ready for you,” you murmur, grabbing his shoulders as you reassure him of how desperately you want this. “Want you inside me.”

When he first pushes in it’s a stretch, even though you’d only been seconds away from coming all over his fingers. He’s so thick it takes a moment to adjust, wiggling your hips as he pushes in so slowly, eyes not leaving your face as he does so. It doesn’t take long for the pleasure to overcome the feeling of being stretched.

By the time his cock is fully seated inside you, hips pressed flush together, he’s looking far more wrecked than you are.

Jean’s biting his lip, hips jerking forward in short shallow motions as he tries to keep from fucking into you before he’s ready. You know from the grip on your waist that he’s trying to hold back, not wanting this sensation to be over too quickly.

When he pulls back and thrusts back in, you can’t help but let out a mewl of pleasure; you know you shouldn’t, it’s too risky, but the noise escapes you before you can even think twice about it.

Jean clasps a hand over your mouth, using the other as leverage on your waist to keep fucking into you.

“Gotta keep quiet for me baby, okay?”

You nod, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes as you try to cant your hips to meet his thrusts.

“I know it’s hard,” he whispers, kissing the apples of his cheeks, “I wish you could keep making those little noises, you’ve no fucking idea what they do to me … but we’ve gotta keep it down. For tonight, anyway. Can you do that for me?” You nod again. “That’s my girl.”

The words make you tighten around him and he looks at you desperately, pulling his hand away for just a moment as he slots his lips against yours again. You think at first he does it just to make sure you’ll stay quiet, but you can feel the vibrations of moans caught in his own throat - the kiss is as much for him as it is for you.

He keeps up his pace throughout, his cock hitting the same spot that his fingers toyed with earlier, and the stretch has faded entirely into a gorgeous fullness. Every time you think you can’t hit another crest of pleasure without coming, he’ll shift ever-so-slightly and the change in angle will make you tighten your grip on his shoulders.

Already your nails have left little crescent-moon indentations on his skin. He doesn’t seem to mind though, letting out a broken sigh when you drag your nails down at a particularly strong thrust.

You’re close. You’re so close, teetering at the edge and seconds away from collapsing into it, and you still have no idea how you’re going to keep quiet.

“Jean-“ you begin, the tremble in your voice tipping his off as to what you need.

He brings his hand back to your mouth but instead of covering it with his palm, he takes the same fingers that were fucking you before and slips them between your lips. You open your mouth for him willingly, tasting yourself on his skin, and then you’re finished.

The makeshift gag of his fingers in your mouth are barely enough to keep you from crying out. All you can feel is the warm glow of pleasure running through your veins, radiating from your core out to your whole body, making your body feel weightless and your mind go utterly and completely blank.

You want to scream for him. You want to him to know exactly what he’s doing to you, but you can barely keep your eyes open.

When the spasms of your orgasm have slowed to a gentle throbbing, you open your eyes just enough to see Jean tip over the edge himself.

You’re so, so glad you opened your eyes, because the sight before you is so gorgeous it nearly pushes you to come again; Jean’s pretty face twisted in pleasure, his pupils blown out and his brows pulled together as he thrusts into you one more time before coming as deep inside you as he can.

It feels almost cruel but you can’t resist; you suck on his fingers as he comes, making his eyes darken even further.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeats like a mantra, as if it’s the only word he can say to hold back screams of his own, “fuck, you’re so … still throbbing around me, fuck, fuck.”

After a moment, he stills inside you. Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he rests his head against your chest, breathing heavily as he tries to collect himself. It’s not much help since the raise and fall of your breathing is just as strong as his own, but it’s comforting having him so close.

It takes even longer to come down from it fully; the intensity of your orgasm made your legs feel weak under your, and it’s difficult to sit upright when Jean finally pulls out. Once he’s cleared up the condom and returned to the couch, you’re still laying flat on your back, face warm to the touch and covered with a faint sheen of sweat.

You feel spent and messy, too tired to care about appearances, but he pulls you in for another kiss that makes you feel so important, so valued, so safe with him.

Once he’s helped you pull on a t-shirt and some shorts that Mikasa had left out, it doesn’t take long to fall asleep in his arms. You don’t even consider how your friends might wake in the morning and find you like this, head resting affectionately in the nook of Jean’s shoulder.

Sleep finds you before you can even start to worry about things like that.

—

The next morning, you wake to find no sign of Jean. You bolt upright in a panic; there’s a folded-up blanket on the floor along with a pillow, and his shoes are lined up in the corner of the room so he’s still here somewhere. He hadn’t left, at least. You’re not ready to leave things so open-ended with him.

You’re just about to go searching for him before a familiar laugh echoes out from the kitchen as Sasha finishes telling some story from last night. From the sounds of it, Jean, Eren and Sasha are preparing some coffee; the smell of it wafts in to the living room and wakes you up fully.

Connie steps into the living room with two mugs in hand, greeting you with a cheery “hey, you’re up!” as he hands you one of the drinks prepared just how you like it.

“Jean took the floor after all?” he inquires. You mumble something unintelligible as you take a sip of the coffee, blowing it slightly to cool it down.

Connie takes a seat on the couch, and you suddenly feel immense gratitude for having the sense to spread Jean’s hoodie on the seats before you two ...

“Glad he’s doing better this morning,” Connie notes, interrupting your thoughts. “He got over his jealousy, apparently.”

“What do you mean?”

He turns to you, an eyebrow quirked up. “You really don’t know?”

You shake your head, hearing the sounds of Eren, Jean and Sasha preparing breakfast in the kitchen.

“I think he got a bit bummed out after spin-the-bottle yesterday,” Connie says, voice quiet even though there’s no chance anyone could hear him. “He couldn’t even talk to Reiner for two hours after.”

“And why’s that?” you ask, keeping as straight a face as possible.

Connie glances over at the kitchen once more for good measure, before leaning in close and whispering.-

“He’ll kill me for saying this, but he’s got a bit of a crush on you.”

[beneathashadytree]

LIKE A GLOVE - JEAN KIRSCHTEIN X READER

Warnings : dacryphilia, tummy bulge, Jean has a big and thick cock, Jean is kinda mean but also in love, messy sex, light dumbification, implied overstimulation, light corruption kink, dirty talk, biting, implied size kink and size difference, dom!Jean, sub!reader, reader is a female!

Genre : smut and filth

Word count : 0.6K words

Synopsis : Jean is addicted to the way his girlfriend looks when he absolutely ruins her every night, and he has no shame admitting it out loud.

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

With every slam of his hips against hers, a choked sob escaped her lips in the most utterly pathetic way possible, and Jean made it his current top mission to let her know that.

"Would you look at that," he cooed, malice lingering in his voice as his hand trailed down her body slowly, resting against the bulge in her tummy that showed just how deep he reached inside of her fluttering pussy and just how thick his cock was, his eyes lingering on the sight of her sloppily sucking him inside with every thrust, "My baby just can't take any more of my cock, hm?"

All coherence left her as she hiccuped, unable to even form a proper sentence, barely capable of stuttering out, "N-no, c-can't, fuck---"

"What a shame," his sorrowful tone as he spoke was so clearly mocking, highlighted by the hard press of his hand against her tummy bulge, "'cause you're gonna have to suck it up, pretty girl."

She began to whine pitifully as Jean picked up the pace, mercilessly pounding into her, the tears falling down her rosy cheeks making her look just like a work of art painted just for him; his masterpiece that he can ruin whenever he liked. Just looking at her looking so fucked out into oblivion had his balls tightening, and he couldn't help the groan that tumbled from his lips.

Her hands were trying to grab at the bedsheets, his hair; anything to seek purchase in, and he reveled in the way her limbs were practically flailing around while his huge cock abused her tight little pussy.

"You're so cute, baby," his light chuckle was anything but friendly, even though his words were sincere; he couldn't think with anything but the head that was brushing consistently against her g-spot, "Love it when you're a brain-dead mess for me."

His tone was contradicted by the way his other hand cupped her cheek deftly, brushing the tears off her soft skin in complete contrast to the way he was fucking her into the mattress like all he knew was her pussy clenching around him and the moans escaping her bruised lips. She was so far gone she couldn't even enunciate a single correct syllable without stumbling over the word and ending it with a garbled whine.

Once again his gaze fell to where their bodies were joined, her arousal forming a wet ring around the base of cock, being entirely swallowed by her tightness. One look at her puffy lips down there and her leaking onto the bedsheets had him almost choking on his words.

"Looking fucking perfect like that," he hissed as he could feel her tightening around him even more; he knew how much his beautiful girlfriend loved hearing him praise how filthy of a mess they got themselves into, "You're practically fucking squeezing me," lowering himself ontop of her, his teeth tugged at her lip harshly, not satisfied and pulling back until he brought even more tears to her gorgeous eyes, and causing his cock to grow even bigger than he thought was possible and letting an almost-feral growl loose, "Fitting me like a fucking glove, I swear, like this pussy was made for me to fuck as I please."

Watching her being split open with every pump of his cock inside her had his head swimming, and he could barely handle it with the way she cried so sweetly and half-screamed his name. If he could, he would never pull out of the pussy he marked as his every single night, the blissful high that lasted for hours serving as a reminder that only he could fuck his girlfriend so good like that---and it would last until he was to see her once again, to refresh her memory.

Taglist: @blondeboyfriend @mrsgiovanna @thispersoniscrazy

[colorseeingchick]

"Cuddle me, *ssh*le!" (Jean KirsteinxFem!Reader)

Summary: You're cold and injured, and Jean Kirstein is helplessly in love with you. There's a solution to all your problems, isn't there?

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive, mutual pining, some serious moments contemplating life. Sassy/teasing y/n

WC: 2.1k. Unedited.

A/N: I've had this in my drive forever and i forgot about it-- but i miss him more than usual today <3 Enjoy

“Y/N- what are you, what are you doing?!” Jean whispers aggressively, his whole body tensing instinctually when your head presses against the side of his abdomen.

You’d gotten beat up during a scouting mission, and luckily made it back with minimal injury, just a few broken bones and excessive amounts of exhaustion. But that didn’t stop Jean from worrying about you like crazy. He’d refused to leave your side. 

He paced your room the whole day till he was finally tired enough to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning against your headboard with his legs still on the ground. He had closed his eyes for only a few minutes, he thinks, when he felt pressure against the left side of his stomach. When he opens his eyes, he sees you no longer laying in bed, and rather holding an odd position of sitting up with your torso leaning towards him, head resting close to his tummy. 

“Jean.” He feels his breath hitch just by the way you say his name. Voice raspy, whiny, and softer than the way you called to him in the battlefield or while messing around with your friends. When you say his name this time, it's just for him to hear. 

“Uh…uh-huh,” is all he can muster.

“It’s so fucking cold.”

Your eyebrows furrow, eyes closed in your sleepiness. 

“Yeah, it is…so?” he’s hesitant, because what do you want him to do about it? 

“So c’mere, bitch,” you say as you lift your arms up and wrap them around his shoulders, pulling him down, his back sliding against the headboard. 

“Wha-wha-what?” He feels like the air has been knocked out of him as his back hits the soft pillowy mattress, your one arm underneath his back, the other resting across the expanse of his chest. His whole body stiffens like a possum feigning death, freezing out of fear. His arms stretch out, his legs press into the ground to keep him from falling off the bed, and his eyes widen to stare at you next to him. But that doesn’t stop you from readjusting, pulling your arm out from under him and placing your head on his chest. 

“Mmm, warm,” you murmur. And then, you nuzzle him. 

Fuck, forget playing dead. Jean thinks he’s actually going to die at this rate.

He’s always asked himself why he had to go and fall in love with the girl who bullies him all the time, but looking down at you right now, he has no questions as to why. He knows that your gentle side exists, and its very presence is enough to have him whipped. 

But it’s also something he’s not prepared for, and so he doesn’t know what to do but stay exactly as he was, waiting for his heart to stop beating out of his chest. 

“Hey,” you say after a few moments pass (but to him it could’ve been an eternity, there’s no real way to tell the difference). 

“Yeah?” He gulps, nervous as to what you’re gonna say this time. He sees your eyebrows scrunch again in displeasure. 

“It’s still cold.” 

“I don’t control the weather, you know.” 

You freeze, and then open your eyes to glare at him for a second before huffing. You push off of him and roll around to the other side, without saying a word. 

Well, shit. Now he’s pissed you off. 

“Hey, hey, what do you want me to do, girl? You gotta at least tell me.” 

“Get…with….” he can barely hear what you’re saying. 

“Louder, Y/N, please,” he asks. 

“Get under the blankets with me, idiot,” it comes out as a whisper, but it’s enough to get Jean’s ears ringing. 

Is this really happening? He’d never said anything, never made any moves, none of that on you. And as far as he knew, you loved to bully him and nothing else. You guys aren’t dating, and you don’t even like him like that, right? So why are you inviting him under your blankets? 

But he’s not gonna question it. Some cuddling…it’s harmless, right? It’s just to warm you up. Yeah. Nothing else. And it’s not like I’m  doing anything you wouldn’t want, you literally asked me to. So it should be okay. This is okay. I’m not gonna make her uncomfortable. 

That’s the monologue going through his head as he fumbles with the buckle on his harness, holding the framework for his gear together. After a minute, he tugs his boots off and sighs. 

He turns back to the bed, back to you, your back still facing him. He quietly and gently pulls the sheets on the bed aside, slipping his legs under the covers before scooting underneath them entirely. He cautiously lays down, keeping a good 2 feet of distance between you both. Unsure of what to do next, he waits, and waits, until he realizes he’s holding his breath in anticipation. 

“Y/N…” he doesn’t even know what to say. But luckily for him, you don’t make him say much. 

You toss a glance over your shoulder before rolling over to face him. “Took you long enough,” you say, shifting closer to him, your faces only inches away from each other. You lift your arm to wrap around him again, but you pause. “Wait.” 

“...Waiting?” 

“I just, I just realized I never asked.” 

“Asked what?” 

“If you’re okay with this.” 

Jean pauses at that. “Okay? With this?” 

“Yeah. If you’re okay cuddling with me.” You’re right, neither of you had ever done anything like this before, nor had you talked about it. But now that you brought it up, well, he can’t not think about it. “Well? Are you?” you ask again, staring him in his eyes. 

His face erupts pink, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Well, I guess, I’m fine with it, if it’ll help you feel less cold.” 

“Eh. If you’re not really into it, I don’t wanna make you do it,” you say dismissively, ready to turn around again. “No! I mean- uh, I’m fine with it, or, I guess, I want you to.” 

“You want me to what?” 

“You know.” 

“I know what?” 

He knows you’re just playing with him. 

“Cuddle me, asshole!” He yells, his red face glowing.

You laugh, now fully conscious, and he swears your giggle is like a drug. 

“You got it, boss,” you say, your voice playful. You scooch over to him, pushing him so he’s flat on his back. You press your chest against his broader one, lowering yourself onto him and eclipsing the left side of his body. You watch as his pupils dilate. You rest your face in the nook between his shoulder and head, rubbing your nose against his neck, hearing him shutter. Your arm goes to caress the other side of his neck, and you toss your right leg over his left one, letting your legs tangle. 

All the while, Jean is certain his heart will burst. Nothing in all his years of training had prepared him to be accosted with cuddles. Your right, the room was so fucking cold, and being wrapped up with you made him so warm. He slowly lets his arms wrap around you, pressing one into the small of your back and the other weaving into your hair. He’d always thought your hair was so pretty, and he’d wanted to play with it for so long. It is just as soft as he thought it would be, he notes. He doesn’t miss the way you sigh when he strokes the back of your head, albeit hesitantly. 

“Again,” he feels the word against his neck before he hears it. The heat of your breath prickles his skin and sends chills through his whole body. He can’t refuse you. He’d die before he refused you. And so he allows his fingers to massage your scalp this time, a fizz of giddiness buzzing throughout his chest as you let out a beautiful sigh. The way you melt into him is addicting. Just a little taste of it has him hooked. He wants you right here like this always. But it doesn’t necessarily kill the question that’s been on his mind since you first pressed your head against him 20 minutes ago. 

“Did ya, hit your head or something?” 

“If one of us has suffered from brain damage, it isn’t me.” 

“Hey-” 

“What are you really asking, Kirstein?” 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” 

“Why did you want to cuddle me? Like, did you just want cuddles from someone? Were you just cold?” 

You lift your head to look at him, scoff, and smile. “Yeah, I just wanted to be warm.”

“Oh.” 

“You’re an idiot sometimes, Jean.” 

“What did I do this time?” 

“Do you not know I know how you feel about me?” 

His blood runs cold. You know? 

“What are you talking abou-” 

You press a finger to his lips, letting out a gentle shh along with it. “You like me, don’t you?” 

His eyes widen and jaw drops, and in that moment, he knows he’s told you everything before saying anything at all. 

“You’re an idiot for thinking it wasn’t obvious as hell. And you’re an even bigger idiot for not knowing that I feel the same.” 

“You WHAT?” 

“Yeah, you airhead. I’ve liked you for a long time.” You say, sighing and falling back onto him. “Explain to me why I had to fall for the cocky, charismatic goofball.”

He’s silent. Radio silent. This wasn’t what he expected at all. It’s worse, because despite what you call him, you both know he’s actually quite a smart person. He’s emotionally intune with himself and his comrades. So how did he miss this? 

“How could I be so stupid?” he murmurs, “How did I miss your, your feelings for me?” he tosses his head back as he cradles you closer. 

“...it’s because, you didn’t want to see it.” Your voice is suddenly a lot more serious, and Jean feels as you clutch his shirt. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to see what I’ve dreamt of for years?” He realizes he’s exposing himself to you just a bit, but at this point, he’s beyond all that. It’s hard for him to not let you get close to his heart, metaphorically. Not when you’re literally laying on top of his heart. 

“Because love comes with so many risks, for us. We love, only to risk losing each other and it destroys us inside. Why would we willingly subject ourselves to that?” 

And it occurs to Jean in that moment, that if you’ve liked him for just as long as you said you have, you didn’t say anything in all that time, either. 

“Because love is worth it,” he’s confident in his answer, soothingly stroking your back. “Yeah, we risk losing it all, and if I could save us all from this hell we live in, I would. But I can’t. So I would rather love and lose than never love at all.” You're silent against his chest, your clasp on his shirt unrelenting, so he continues, “you’re right- I was scared. And I probably am still a bit scared to accept love. But fuck it. If you’ll have me, I’ll, I’ll…I’ll be a good lover to you.” He presses you closer to his body, holding your head against his heart, hoping you’ll hear the way it beats for you earnestly and unrelentingly. 

You wiggle out of his grasp and prop yourself up against his body. He almost thinks he doesn’t recognize you from the look on your face, the way it’s so soft and vulnerable. 

“God, Jean. Let me kiss you right now.” 

And then you go and catch him off guard with your bold words again. 

“Wha-” 

“You can’t say something so hot and then assume I won’t wanna kiss you, dumbass.” 

He’s not waiting for you to unrelentingly tease him again. He grabs the sides of your face with both his hands, and pulls your lips to his. He feels the way you gasp against his lips, and he can’t help but smile at the thought that maybe, he’d won against you this time. 

You pull away and say, “Smooth one, my love.” As soon as a victory is won, you quickly even the score, watching his mind go blank at the use of a simple pet name. “I know I tease you and say all sorts of shit to you all the time, and you’re allowed to tell me if I’m being a bitch. But just know, I have no intentions of stopping as of right now.” 

He smiles as the blush takes over his face again, getting used to the phenomena. “And I may pretend to hate it, but I  wouldn’t have it any other way, Y/N.” 

Author notes: I hope you all enjoyed hehe

I miss him :( i need to finish AOT smh

[aotimagines]

Could I request Jean and his S/O out in Trost on a quiet date when they bump into Momma Kirstein, who inevitably hasn't been told her son is dating anyone? (headcanon or scenario, whichever is easier - you both do absolutely wonderful work <3)

Anon, this is literally the cutest request EVER? How could I not write a scenario for this, omg. And thank-you so much for the compliment! I hope you enjoy. <3 This was a lot of fun to write, haha. 

“Jeanbo?”

Jean’s hand tightened considerably around your own, hispalms slick with sweat and heat. Curious as to why Jean had suddenly tensed up and began to sweat profusely, youcranked your head over your shoulder to see a middle-aged woman standing a fewfeet behind you, a basket of produce tucked beneath her arm. She bore astriking resemblance to Jean, so it didn’t take you long to figure out exactlywho this woman was.

Prying your hand from your boyfriend’s, you nudged Jeanharshly in the side. “Don’t be rude! Introduce me to her,” you hissed, watchinghis apple’s apple bob in his throat. It was very often that the 104thhad a chance to kick back and venture around town, so you wanted to take thisopportunity and acquaint yourself with the woman who had reared Jean frombirth. You were dating him, afterall.

When he finally turned around, his mother tilted her headto the side, warm, amber-colored eyes flickering down to where your hands hadonce been connected. “Who are they, Jean? Are you dating someone?”

 The welcoming and happy expression that had once beenhighlighting your features soon slipped off your face. He hadn’t told hismother that he was dating anyone, whether it be from sheer forgetfulness or something else. Annoyance bubbled tolife inside the pit of your stomach, but you held back your sharp remarks inlieu of crossing your arms over your chest.

Panicking by now, Jean rubbing the back of his neck untilhis shoulders dropped and he admitted in defeat, “Yeah…I am, Ma. Sorry I didn’ttell you, but you know how busy I’ve been with training and—ouch!”

During the time that Jean had been trying to cover hisown lack of regard for his mother, she had stalked over to where he stood,reached up, and violently tugged down on his ear in a mannerism that only amother could. Eyes ablaze, she sharply reprimanded, “I’m disappointed in you,Jeanbo. How could you keep me from meeting your special someone?”

When she turned to face you, the anger all but dissipatedfrom her face, a welcoming smile curved on her lips. “It’s nice to meet you,dear. I’m sorry for how rude my son has been. I swear I don’t know what wentwrong with this boy. He used to be sucha sweet baby…”

“It’s alright, Mrs. Kirstein. It seems Jeanbo has some explaining to do to theboth of us,” you brought up, a sly and wicked smirk painted across your lips, “overtea. I hope you’re not too busy? There’s a nice café that’s close to thebarracks and Jean and I have some time left.”

Clearly delighted, Mrs. Kirstein placed a hand on yourshoulder. “Why don’t you come to our house, instead? You can see Jean’s roomthat way and we can all catch up.”

You nodded, arms falling by your sides in a more relaxedpose. “I think that sounds wonderful,Mrs. Kirstein. I’d love to hear all about Jean as a kid, too,” you said, eyessliding over to Jean’s redden face with sheer glee. That would teach him the value of his misstep.

As Jean’s mother began to lead the two of you backtowards her home, Jean’s hand stopped you by grabbing your upper-arm and shotyou a pleading look. “Take pity on me.”

“No way.”

“I’m sorry, okay? There’s no need for you to grill my Maabout me as a kid!”

Tutting underneath your breath, you removed your arm fromJean’s hold and lifted your hand, playfully running your finger underneath hisjaw before tilting his chin up. “Well, Jeanbo,I think this is fair retribution for not telling your own mother about me. Nowlet’s go. We wouldn’t want to miss tea,” you said without a single care for thepout that wrote across Jean’s face or the way he cursed your name beneath hisbreath.

Oh yeah; you were going to get a lot of mileage out of this one. “Maybe we can stay for dinner andmeet your father as well,” you called from over your shoulder once you began towalk in the direction of his home, much to Jean’s utter dismay.

If his mother didn’t massacre him from withholding theinformation that he was dating someone, then you would certainly be the death of him.

[aotimagines]

Could you do a jeanxreader scenario where the reader finds jean's drawings of mikasa but instead of getting jealous or angry the reader kinda teases him and gushes over and encourages his art and he surprises them by showing them the drawings he has done of them and it's really fluffy and sweet

I hope I did this justice. Enjoy! 

“Babe, what’s this?”

Jean felt his blood turn as cold as ice as you held uphis sketchpad, the wisps and tendrils of charcoal on the page resembling noneother than your fellow trainee, Mikasa Ackerman. It was no secret that, onceupon a time, he had harbored a massive crush on the mysterious enigma, but itall came to pass as soon as he met you. He couldn’t even begin to fathom how bad it looked that he had been drawing her.

“It’s not what it looks like! I can explain, I swear!”Jean hadn’t meant for his words to come out so defensive, but he couldn’t helpit. You were the love of his young life; the only person he honestly caredabout impressing. The last thing hewanted to do was screw up whatever the both of you had together because he hadbeen drawing other girls.

Girls he had former crushes on, to make matters worse.

Confused, you cocked your head to the side. “What do youmean—oh!” Realization lit up across your features until you grinned widely, hipcocked to the side, before clarifying, “I’m not jealous, if that’s what you’rethinking. I couldn’t care less if you were drawing Mikasa because, honestly, Iprobably would too, if I could. She’s stunning.”

Relief pooled inside the pit of Jean’s stomach. “Uh, whatdid you mean then?” he found himself asking, patiently waiting for yourresponse as you moved closer and placed the sketchbook down on the bed.

“This! Thedrawing thing! Jean, you’re really good and I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Red dusted Jean’s cheeks as he reached for the book, hisvoice coming out more whiny than intended as he remarked, “Uh, because it’s embarrassingand I didn’t want you to make fun of me for it?”

“Jean,” you spoke, voice soft and tender, “I’d never makefun of you for your talents. When you try to flaunt and show off, sure, but notfor something like this. Would you show me some of your other stuff?”

What he wantedto tell you was no, simply because his book was filled with sketches on top ofsketches on top of sketches of you,but he couldn’t help but let his heart skip a beat inside of his chest. God,even after being with you for all this time, you still managed to make him feellike some sappy idiot inside of one of his mother’s romance novels.

“Here,” he forfeited, handing over the sketchbook intoyour awaiting palm. Eagerly, you sat down on the edge of his bed and patted thespace beside you, balancing the book on your knee as you began to flip throughthe pages in silence. Jean waited with baited breath as you skimmed each andevery drawing of you he had done in the past few months, silence hanging overyour heads until you finally reached the last page and closed the book shut.

Carefully, you leaned over and swiftly kissed Jean’scheek, a smirk curling into the corners of your lips as you watched his face heatup in embarrassment. “I had no idea I was your muse, Jeanbo. Should I model for your next time you want to drawsomething?”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Jean muttered beneath his breath,his blush so prominent that the tips of his ears were beginning to turn red.Without much of a warning, he pushed you back on the bed and began to mercilesslytickle you, ignoring the way you thrashed and shrieked at him to stop.

Several hours later, you sat as still as could be whileJean dutifully drew your profile, ignoring the smug expression that threatenedto cloud your features whenever your eyes would meet.