#jean kirschtein x you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chrollohearttags · 2 months

Text

TRACK 01 ❥ RIDE • J. KIRSCHTEIN

your love with jean didn’t start out with perfect beginnings but he’ll make certain it has the story book ending.

❥ content + warnings: paramedic!jean, patient liaison reader (black coded), mentions of illness, pain, etc, very brief mention of infidelity, Jean being a complete lover boy, he has a heavy country/creole accent (he speaks French once or twice) hotel sex, alcohol use, fingering, foot play, bondage, dirty talk, squirting, blindfold, wax play, pet names (my love, my girl, sweetheart) daddy kink + heavy dom, nipple play, breeding/pregnancy, mating press

word count: 6.2K

“Take off those heels, lay on my bed…whisper dirty secrets while I’m pulling on your hair..”

₀․₀₀◦──────────────────────────₃․₁₅

there were so many words that could be used to describe the enigma of a man that was Jean Kirschtein. For the longest, he was a mystery to you..not being able to take him one way or the other. You couldn’t quite figure him out or really see him for who he truly was. And just when you’d thought you had him all figured out; pegged as one thing, he swayed your mind in the opposite direction. Granted, that was before you knew him beyond being your ex’s homeboy. Keeping yourself at arm’s bay from any man that wasn’t him as to not make him jealous. Of course, that was prior to learning that it wasn’t Jean or anyone else you had to worry about. It was him. It was only a year and a half ago that you learned the heartbreaking news of your ex’s infidelity and by the mouth of none other than Jean himself. It came as such a shock to you that as he spoke, you found yourself almost collapsing onto the pavement but he quickly caught you. You’d never felt so humiliated and betrayed before in your life. The weight of it was almost too much for you to bare..that was until Jean caught you within his grasp and never let go! He assured you that Connie or no other man would ever harm you again as long as he was around. A promise he kept true to..even severing ties with his best friend altogether. It was easy by no means and you felt guilty for being the reason their friendship ended but the only thing you were met with was laughter and a very simple statement in response:

“Any man that could hurt a beautiful woman like you could never be my friend.”

that wasn’t all though..as Jean explained, the two of them began falling out over his constant womanizing and cheating. Granted, he was no saint himself and the two of them were no strangers to having multiple ladies in their lives or even having threesomes with them. But all of that changed when Connie got with you…or so he claimed! Turns out, he only amped up his infidelity through the roof and left you in the dark about all of it. Jean, although a bit of a ladies man himself, couldn’t sit idly by and allow you to be harmed by his actions. But honestly, none of that mattered now. Hell, it all seemed like a far off past that you had but repressed from your memory. Especially when Jean had all but spent this last year and some change not only atoning for Connie’s mistakes but treating you like the absolute goddess you were. The two of you were both employed by the same hospital; you worked as a patient liaison who saw to the non medical needs of the patients. Ensuring that they knew how much they were being billed and offering assistance if it were needed, making certain that their rooms were up to par, even helping out with diet plans..if someone were vegetarian or pescetarian, you’d relay the message to the kitchen staff and make sure they’d have those options for them. It was equally as important as their medical care and it was a job you did exceptionally well. It most certainly took a special person! Which Jean appreciated and respected when he watched you work..always so kind and empathetic. It was no wonder why he felt the innate sense to spoil you in return.

he himself worked as an EMT. Transporting patients to and from the hospital, dealing with high stress situations and quite frankly, enjoying every bit of the adrenaline rush that ensued. Sometimes, it was so intense, he questioned if he were meant to pursue this. But you were his safe haven and once he was with you, he felt as if he could conquer the world!

however, just for the evening…you were setting aside your workplace concerns and stories to be solely devoted to one another. It was a rather special occasion, for many reasons. One being Valentine's Day. And the other? The six month anniversary since you guys began seeing one another officially. When he asked you out after a late night shift and you found yourselves at one of your favorite spots to eat. He handed you a small gift and asked properly; despite hooking up several times prior. Stating that he knew it wasn’t ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but he just couldn’t wait to make you his. It was so thoughtful, you nearly burst into tears right there. Fast forward and life only got better! You had never experienced love the way you had with Jean..endless affection, fancy dates when permitted, small gestures to brighten your day and of course, sex on an entirely different level! This man knew your body like the back of his hand and he always knew the right things to do to make you tick and turn you on. Still, he’d always have his reservations. He wanted to prove that you were worth far more than late night rendezvouses and backseat hookups. He wanted to give you the absolute world on a platter. A goal he had in mind as he made his way to your place; a small house you shared with an older sister and nephew. He pulled that blacked out two seater up to the curb of your driveway..hopping out to open the passenger door just as you made your appearance!

“Well..my my..and they say goddesses don’t walk this earth. I’d hafta’ disagree..not when my baby exists.”

your face completely flushed in a sheath of warmth and your stomach fluttered with butterflies as you flashed that pearly smile and strutted closer. He wasn’t exaggerating because to say you looked divine, wouldn’t be an understatement! Face done up in the most beautiful shimmers and red lipstick that complimented that beautiful dark skin tone, those normally tight curls styled into an updo and gleaming jewelry he had brought dangled from your neck and ears. Dressed in a thigh length red dress with a slit on the right side, tall, strappy heels that wrapped around your calves and a handbag to match. However, you wouldn’t be opening that unless it were to touch up your makeup. Because he had plans that involved spoiling you rotten in more ways than one..and best believe he wasn’t empty handed when getting out to greet you either. No, he was brandishing what seemed to be the largest bouquet of roses he could find!

“You’re way too sweet, baby..thank you!”

“No such thing..here, these are for you, my love. Happy Valentines..and anniversary.”

delicately lacing your cheek with a peck..accepting them, you’d thank him once more and right there, in return..shove your tongue between his lips whilst caressing his cheek. Jean would feel the rush of ecstasy that came with your touch rush his veins. Each kiss, hug and caress took his breath away. Needless to say, dinner was merely the appetizer to the main course to which his pallet desired!..

“Ready to hit the town, my lady?” Garnering quite the adorable giggle from you. He was such a charmer..constantly wooing you despite the relationship nearing a year old.

“Well of course, sir. Lead the way.” you’d return his sentiment, grinning from ear to ear. With that, he’d make haste in opening the door and allowing you to take your seat in the passenger’s side, easing you in. And afterwards, he’d make his own way back to the drivers to start up the ignition. Tonight was sure to be one that would forever be embedded into your memory and heart for many years to come..

page break and time skip

“Jean Rene Kirschtein, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you..dammit, and I said I wasn’t going to cry tonight.”

the only response that you could muster at the moment as you cupped a hand across your mouth, feigning tears and hysterics as you glared down at the crushed velvet box, seated in your lap. Inside, resided a sparkling ring..glistening with princess cut diamonds and a twenty four karat silver band. It was absolutely gorgeous and not to mention..all yours. A piece of jewelry that set him back about nine hundred or so dollars but it was fitting for a promise ring. Not to mention all the other countless gifts he had bestowed upon you tonight. Once he dropped to that knee, there would be no expense spared. He’d grasp your hand as he reached across the table and intertwined your fingers. After he slipped it on for you.

“Well, you could start by drying those pretty eyes of yers’…no need to cry, baby. You deserve this and so much more..” the words permeated your ears and heart like arrows shit directly from Cupid himself. Currently, the two of you were at the rooftop restaurant stationed at the Blaise Hotel, located on the opposite side of town and near the outskirts. It was so lavish yet so intimate at the same time…dim blue illumination outlined the cursive sign hung atop the building. Marble and gold embellished the lobby and everything was so beautiful. It was rather apparent that Jean had spared no expenses when it came to making this night as special as possible. To say you were grateful would be an understatement. “Listen..I know that you and I didn’t exactly start this thing off right and hell, maybe in another life, ya’ would’ve been mine in the first place. But (y/n), baby. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure that I’ll be your last. One day, I wanna replace this with the real thing. I wanna marry ya’, have some babies..grow old together. The only thing I want is to spend the rest of my life making you happy. I love you.”

and you knew that he meant every single word that left his mouth. Unlike your ex, there was no doubt that you were his one and only. And you were about to see the great lengths he was willing to go to just to prove that!

“I love you more, Jean..thank you, for making this past year or so, the best I’ve ever had. You pulled me out of a dark place when everyone else was willing to let me sit there..you did things for me that you didn’t have to and I’m forever grateful. I don’t know what I did to deserve to be this happy but…I hope it never ends.” Ending your speech by hoisting your glass, in hopes of not becoming emotional once more. The two of you would toast and take generous swigs of that red Cabernet. Sweet yet strong and the perfect beverage for an occasion like this. “Well..it’s as my granny used ta’ say..’ Même toutes les étoiles du ciel ne pourraient pas briller aussi fort que toi, ma bien-aimée.” Meaning that you shined brighter than any star in the sky and he wanted to spend all night showing you just how special you were to him. Because unbeknownst, there was a second portion to your surprise. One that would undoubtedly embed this night in your mind for a very long time.

“Say, why don’t we get outta here and head upstairs? I gotta lil’ something for you.” Whilst you were finishing up the remnants of your wine, Jean stood from his seat; righter leaving both the bill and hefty tip inside of a black leather booklet. There was no need for you to concern yourself with it or the price inside. This was your night..to be celebrated, to be spoiled and to be loved properly. Something he planned to do in more ways than one. Grasping your hand and the cusp of your arm with the gentlest touch, he’d help you from your seat and pushed it back in. The signs of a true southern gentleman if you’d ever seen one. You knew that his folks had raised him right in the way he carried himself. Although you’d seen Jean act the fool as any twenty something year old boy would, he was always so polite and respectful. Always holding doors, never making you lift a finger to do anything and of course, charmed you to no end. “A lil’ something, huh? Something tells me you went all out..again!” Teasing him as the two of you exited the rooftop to take an elevator down to your suite. Hand in hand with your free one occasionally raising up to stroke his chest. As his own, cradled your waist..holding you close.

“Now now, sweetheart…a man never reveals his secrets. You just relax and let me worry about everything.”

honestly, there was no attesting Jean once he got something set in his head. He was stubborn but there was never a moment where he didn’t see something through to fruition. He also had the habit of sparing no expense to take care of someone else. Maybe that’s what made him such a great first responder..and lover. He was a dominant man. Not the possessive or overbearing type but rather the kind to step up to the plate and handle business without so much as a second thought. Which is why you felt so safe and secure around him..for once, it felt nice to be soft..vulnerable. To let your guard down and let someone else take the lead. So with that, accepting his answer, you’d await patiently as the elevator descended and the down arrow illuminated. Finally, it would come to a halt on the fourth floor..where Jean stepped out first to offer up his hand so he could guide you along. Your heels clicked briefly against the tile flooring before it quickly transitioned to carpet. The hall was decorated with vibrant white and blue paints, vivid imagery plastered onto paintings and sleek, modern lighting illuminated the path to the rooms stationed on the right side. Although Jean’s chivalry seemed to be never ending, there was another reason as to why he was so adamant of stepping ahead of you.

“Before we go inside…there’s one more thing I have for ya..turn around.”

414. The room number in which you two would be residing for the evening..although, you were certain not much sleeping would be taking place. You were stopped in your tracks right by the door as he grasped your hand. Even so, you’d do as your man instructed and spin until your back was facing him. It was then that he’d instruct you to step forward and fully devoting your trust in him, you knew he’d guide you in the right direction. With those strong hands cradling your waist, you’d step forward until you heard the door close behind you. A couple more steps and you could hear soft music playing..until you felt your calves graze what seemed to be a soft cushion of sorts.

“Take a seat, sweetheart..I’m right here.” That deep drawl ringing out in your ear and sending shivers tingling up your spine. Upon bending down to let your backside hit the bed, you’d await his next command. Patently and completely devoted to him. You trusted Jean, more than anyone. So you’d do exactly as he instructed. With your hands resting on your thighs, (y/n) sat straight upright as you felt his fingertips grazing your shoulder blades. You could feel his breath against your neck and his stubble just barely grazing your skin.. “..you’re so beautiful, baby. Ya’ know that? God, I feel like I don’t ever get to say it enough.” His voice dropped to a low vibrato as he continued caressing you. Soaking you in, drinking in your scent and just enjoying being in your presence. Taking his sweet time to fill your head with all of those beautiful words..affirming the things he felt about you on a daily basis. Whilst he did so, Jean’s lips trailed further south. Going from your neck to your shoulders..where he removed the straps of your dress and slid them down gently. His hands trailed the sides of your body and every square inch where he removed an article of clothing, he replaced it with subtle pecks. You couldn’t see a thing but you could feel it all..the warmth of his breath against your flesh, your ensemble slowly slipping away from you and his hands roaming around your torso. Including those supple breasts. Your nipples had begun to stiffen up as he toiled with them between his fingertips. You’d raise your hand to caress his head as it rested on your shoulder. Whilst toying with your newly exposed tits, Jean continued nipping at your ear and rattling off in it. Only this time, his words were far more risqué than before!..

“..ya’ know..I planned this night out in my head several times. I thought of all the ways I wanted to make love to you. How I’d be all gentle and sweet with ya’..but I gotta be honest, sweetheart…”

it was in the midst of his speech did you feel that same hand snake down between your legs and part them with a single pop to your thighs. His movements switched from delicate to a slightly bit rough in only a matter of seconds! He couldn’t hold back any longer..he needed you. He craved you..and desperately!

“..I just wanna fuck the shit out of you. I know that’s not all sweet and romantic. But I can’t help it..I just wanna give you what you deserve. The type of dick you should’ve been getting a long time ago, baby.” Whilst his words seeped to your head, your core was feeling the effects as well. With that center exposed as he tugged your thong to the side, it was no secret that you were already leaking from the sound of his voice and teasing alone. That was exactly where he wanted you! Vulnerable, soft..melting within his grasp. “..Jeannn…” “shh, shhh it’s okay..” He didn’t want you to do a thing. So much so, it wasn’t long before you felt your wrists being bound together in front of you as well. Right now, you were completely under his control and you could bet, that trust you placed in him wasn’t something he was going to take lightly or abuse. He would spend every waking second he had within this room pleasing you to the utmost of his ability.

“..god, those titties are so pretty, sweetheart. I just wanna suck on those nipples, get them hard.” Declaring as he gently grabbed your already sensitive buds and squeezed. He could sense that your body was already coming undone and he hadn’t even begun to toy with you yet! But alas, you had all night and you could fall apart as many times as you needed to..he’d be right there to put you back together! “And this pussy…fuck, it’s so wet for me already…” it was blatantly obvious that he was in the mood to play the long game. To spend hours if needed to build you up to your breaking point, only because he knew the release would be that much sweeter. “Yer’ gonna feel so good, I just know it..” In a sheer moment of haste, your lover would tear that dress from your body as if it were nothing more than a slip of paper. Soon, every other article of clothing would follow suit shortly after and Jean was quick to make his next move. Pulling you back towards his chest; still clothed with the black button down, he’d snake that tattooed arm down the center of your torso. Where he’d revel in toying with your slit. Spreading those puffy lips apart with his index and middle fingers. The sensation of cool air immediately made contact with that dripping warmth and needless to say, you were shivering instantly. Whimpering and huffing as he massaged that clit. Rubbing yourself against those finger pads and grinding on it. Pushing up and slowly gliding back down when he added a single finger. With just that one digit alone, you began writhing and begging him for more but it wasn’t time..you weren’t ready. “Baby, you can barely even take my finger right now…look at how she’s squeezing me.” Chuckling as he watched your movements. You had a habit of being restless..once you became aroused, nothing could tame that salacious appetite except the most intense, passionate sex that he could offer. “I knowww, but pleaseee—“ “..if you know then let me take care of you. Cut it out.” cooing into your ear and reaffirming his point with a gentle hand around your throat. “So are ya’ gonna relax and lemme handle it, sweetheart? Tell me..” and with that subtle dominance, what other choice did you have? That unwavering resolve of his wore you down rather quickly. “Yes, daddy..please take care of me..” “..that’s my pretty girl..” But alas, the foreplay and teasing was far from finished! Keeping you reigned to his chest, Jean continued to work that little cunt over with calculated touches and subtle pushes. Pressing into that sensitive core..his knuckles would become coated in that sticky sex, hoping to drum up more as he persisted. For now, he was ready to move on to his next task on the docket! His movements would come to a halt and suddenly you’d find yourself spasming on nothing more than air. It left you with a yearning..a longing for more. As you awaited his next move, he’d prompt you to open your mouth before placing those fingers between your lips and allowing you to not only clean them off but pacify those pathetic whimpers. “Taste yourself..there ya’ go. So fucking sweet..” You were still shielded from all the surroundings, your eyes covered by that satin cloth. Drool would seep from (y/n)’s jaws and shallow breaths escaped your throat. It was apparent that you were close but prolonging that orgasm would only make the moment that much better. For now, he had but one simple command:

“Hands in front of ya’, sweetheart.” The sharp tone in his voice causes a tingle to trickle down your spine. But naturally, you complied..submitting yourself to him entirely. Once you place your arms to your stomach, you’d find your wrists bound and tightly secured. You were completely at his will and before he proceeded, he’d reposition you to the mattress, placing you flat on your back..as you laid there, sprawled out and completely exposed, the gentle, familiar brush of his fingertips grazed your cheek yet again. Your arms, now outstretched and lying dormant above your head. You had no way of telling what it was that your boyfriend was planning..no sense of your surroundings but that was the entire point. He wanted complete autonomy over you..ensuring that you could trust him and for the next thing he had planned, he wanted you to be fully submissive to him.

“M’ gonna need you to hold still f’r me. Okay, sweetheart? You’re gonna feel a lil’ something dripping..and I want you to let me know if it hurts. You trust me..right?” without a shadow of a doubt, the answer was clear but he wanted to hear you say it. He needed that explicit consent that you wanted this just as badly. Just above your swollen, erect nipples, something hovered about you. It felt warm..which led you to one conclusion:

“Yes..please. Do it.”

and with that, he’d proceed! Brandishing in his hand was an already illuminated candle..one of which was already flickering upon your arrival to the room, as he had requested. This one was beginning to melt but to help speed up the process, Jean retrieved a lighter from his pocket. The same one he used to ignite his cigarettes and blunts on very rare occasions. A sterling silver one with his initials engraved..sparking the flame, the sandy blonde took both items and dangled them only inches from your body. Your frame wiggled around on the bed in anticipation; your chest heaving but breath shallow…you could sense what was coming and for a brief moment, the room fell silent. That’s when it happened…

plop!

the single sound of a wax droplet making contact with your flesh. Your reaction followed a split second later as you sucked your teeth and whimpered. He had to make certain that it wasn’t painful to you. But all reservations subsided when underneath the flicker of that flame, he’d watch that gorgeous smile appear and suddenly, he was at ease and confident that he could keep going! “How’d it feel, mama? That didn’t hurt, did it?” Cooing with a swipe of his thumb across your cheek as he awaited your response. “Y-yeah..but it felt so good! Please…more.” And he didn’t hesitate! Jean continued whittling down that candle with his flames. Soon, the beads multiplied as they fell and before long, your gorgeous dark complexion was marked with cream colored, hardened splatters of wax. Akin to a portrait, you were like a masterpiece..one he wanted to frame and keep forever. Your tits gently swaying as you squirmed around and the sounds of your adorable giggles, along with the lilt in your voice was satisfying enough for your boyfriend. Those beautiful nipples protruding and hardened beyond belief, only caused you to squirm as he grazed them. “That feel good, my love?” “Yes! So good..thank you!” That single show of gratitude made the tent in his pants grow larger..as well as his desire for you! He was fighting the urge to strip down and fuck you senseless right now but he was almost where he wanted you. Where he needed you..

“Good..that’s all I wanna hear..”

just then, Jean would kneel into the mattress to propel himself up. Only after he set aside the candle and lighter, extinguishing both. Where he’d begin to undress. Peeling off his clothing layer by layer. You’d hear the sound of that designer belt buckle clinking as he unfastened it. Tossing it to the floor first and his pants followed suit. Next was his button down he undone. His shoes and everything until he was sporting nothing but that gold Rolex and rings that looked so aesthetically pleasing as it contrasted your skin. Lying a flat palm on your thigh when he crawled back up and parted them. He had been waiting for this moment. Biding his time in anticipation for what was to come..he’d often spend his shifts thinking about you. Trying to feign off his thoughts and desires because he knew he’d have you soon enough. There were so many things he wanted to do with you. On one hand, slow, sensual lovemaking underneath the candles…feeding you gentle strokes. And on the other hand? Pounding you into this mattress until you made a mess of him! Squirting and leaking all over this bed until you convulse of one too many powerful orgasms..

“So tell me, sweetheart? What is it that you want now? Just looking at ya’…I can tell you’re hungry for more. You’re leaking, baby..” teasing as he brushed over that mound and only a mere inch away from that clit. He’d resort to spreading you open again just for his own pleasure. Whispering and murmuring as he sucked his teeth in awe of the sight. He couldn’t believe it..how silky and wet you were.. “..goddamn..look at that. So beautiful..would look even better with me inside of you. Don’t ya’ agree, baby?” Prompting you to lick your lips and nod profusely. You were so needy, you were practically rutting yourself on thin air..seeing as how he refused to directly touch it. Afraid it’d send you flying over the edge if he did. He needed that reaction strictly for himself. He wanted to see you twitching, squirming and writhing all on his cock. “Yeah..fuck..I do..” those pathetic little whines only fueling him more. So much so, as he kept you speaking, he’d coil the base of his shaft and stroke upward as he awaited his answers. “Then convince me, baby. Tell me where ya’ want daddy to put it. Where you need me right now. C’mon, talk to me..”

and you spared no details! You’d quickly plead for him to spread you open and fill you full of his cock. To stretch you out and make you conform to his shape. What couldn’t fit, he better make you take it..that nut? He knew exactly where you wanted it. You wanted him to completely wreck you tonight!

“So that’s how it is? That’s what you feel?” “Yes, baby!..come fuck this pussy, please..” it was obvious that you were becoming anxious and Jean was aching so badly from his own edging that if he didn’t get inside of something soon, he was going to explode. So with one forceful tug, he’d bridge the gap of space between your bodies before placing a leg on your shoulder and folding you back.

“Of course, pretty girl. Whatever you want..this is your dick after all.” Chuckling with a smile on his face, it didn’t take long before his tip was brushing against your slit and casually rubbing on that bud to further stimulate you. “So take it..” suddenly, that subtle teasing turned into full blown penetration! You’d find yourself stuffed to the brim and the gasp and expletives that simultaneously left both of your mouths signified just how good it felt. His thick length throbbing inside of your heat and that tight cunt clutching him upon entry. As if you two were designed for one another. “F-fuck..gonna start moving, baby..you ready?” He didn’t have to see your eyes to know your reaction..it was written all over your facial and body language. You’d give him the go ahead and seconds later, Jean would grasp your waist to keep you steady as he began thrusting up into you. Sounds of smacking skin along with faint moans arose and filled the air. He had to pace himself..go far slower than he would like to if he were going to last any amount of time. Long, deep, well paced strokes were the best move right now. And did he make certain you felt each one!

“G’ahh..so tight, baby..this pussy’s squeezing me..” tossing his head back on his shoulders, Jean would persist and push through the tight bundle of nerves..the sensation constricting his shaft and making him even more so vulnerable than before. He’d consistently dote on you, telling you how pretty you were taking his dick..how good you were opening for him and how he couldn’t wait to fill you up. Saying everything you needed to hear..cream began to pool around the rim of your opening; a result of the slow repetition of his cock slamming into you. Meanwhile, your legs and ankles rested on his broad shoulders. They’d tremble within his grasp as he laced them with sensual kisses. “You have any idea how good you make me feel, my love? How wet you are right now…I just wanna fill you up..I swear. Hell, I think you’d look so beautiful with my baby inside of ya’…” the low vibrato and his accent making the statement even sexier when he uttered it. The response was you twitching around him but not out of pain..you loved the idea. Being stuffed full of his seed, even if you weren’t exactly ready for the latter yet!

“Mmmph...I love when you nut in this pussy.” Declaring with your lips only inches apart. Eventually bridging the gap with soft, sensual pecks. Tongues swirling around and clashing with one another as strings of saliva formed between them. “Yeah? That’s what you want?” “Yes, baby. Keep fucking me. Make me take that dick!” Steadfast in your words, you’d claw at the pillows behind you..the only thing within your confined grasp as his movements progressed. He’d begin to speed up that dormant pace and get deeper into your core. It would seem that your lecherous words had pushed him to the next level..driving him to repeatedly stab at your sensitive core with deep, sharp, unrelenting thrusts. On top of rolling his fingers against your clit, drumming up more of that slick. The moment was perfect..the way your round tits swayed with each thrust, your skin riddled with wax and sweat, your legs coiling his waist..the only thing missing were your nails clawing into his back and marking him up. “J-Jeann…mm, gonna cum! Fuck!..” So he’d make the decision to untie your wrists and lift that blindfold. He needed to see your pretty face whilst he was in it. All of those authentic reactions..

“Then come, baby!..and look me in the eye when you do it.” Prompting you to release that shower of sweet rain all over him and while he was still buried to your hilt nonetheless. Only pushing him back when you could no longer keep him inside, and he’d retract to tap that tip against your slit. “I love when you squirt on this dick..feels so fucking good.” But your boyfriend wasn’t letting up..he was still vying for his own orgasm. Desperate and utterly desiring to fill you full of his seed. Repositioning once more, Jean hovered over your frame and pinned all your limbs back in one fell swoop. He couldn’t pretend to be composed any longer and that suave romantic had shifted to a salacious deviant..hungry to claim your womb for his own. That much apparent by his brutal thrusting and incessant growls as he took full dominion over you. Your feet and wrists were once again restrained as to avoid any attempts to stop him. But he knew you were equally aching for it..aching to be bred and stuffed full, so he’d persist. Spouting off lewd remarks and sloppy kisses to quell you. The bed jolted around with the headboard smacking the wall. Your bodies entangled as he folded you into that mating press. “You're gonna take it f’r me, sweetheart?! Take all this nut..it’s all yours..just tell me where you want me to put it, right now.” Through gritted teeth, he’d plead and try to maintain the last semblance of dominance he harbored because just as his resolve was fading, his stamina was slipping as well. Those thrusts became sporadic in rhythm and he was faltering in his speed. That once deep voice was a sending in pitch and Jean was on the brink of collapse as he held out for a few more strokes. “Gah! Fuck..so tight, I’m coming, baby!—“ “Nut in me, please..give it to me!” And with that command, he no longer felt the need to restrain himself. Coming to a complete halt, you’d watch those deep set eyes become wider and his body stiffen up. He was frozen in place but that long rope of warm semen spilled into your womb. He’d release your hands and you’d be quick to quell him with a palm to the face, thanking him for it and telling him how amazing it felt.

“I need a kiss, c’mere..”

“Of course…”

finally back into reality and consciousness, you’d join together one more time for a searing, passionate peck that solidified your love. Right here in this room, he made certain that you knew you were his forever and always. Regardless of your pasts, who may have been in it before or otherwise. What mattered most was the here and now.

“I’m starting to think I should’ve skipped the promise ring. I wanna marry you right now.” Prompting you to chuckle into your hand before stringing a finger down his chest. “Well that’s quite the jump.” But rest assured, you’d be right here until the actual day came along. Proposal or not, you knew who you wanted to spend the rest of forever with so for the time being, you could revel in his presence and never grow tired. You could definitely get used to it.

“I love you, Jean..” “I love ya’ more, sweetheart.”

and he’d spend all night of the rest of his life proving so.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@honeybleed @spaceforher @dezibou @nanamiscunt @sweethoneycream

609 notes · View notes

90ekz · 4 months

Note

do you think you could write hcs of jean with a softspoken gf? nobody writes for him fr it’s so sad

an! i love jean and this concept anon ! im a soft spoken girl myself so this really hits home 🥹 i hope you enjoy!!

jean as your boyfriend <3

SFW

when you two first started dated, jean was convinced that he hit the lottery. you were everything he ever wanted and he loved a girl that kept to herself.

jean sometimes takes you to wing houses & burger joints and watches with a huge smile as you try to order your food against the chaos of the other people conversing around you. you weren’t the biggest fan of having to yell in public, but you tried your best, and his heart melts everytime.

when you first met him at connie’s house warming party, you bumped into him, spilling the contents of your cup onto his white button up. jean had turned beet red as you stood on your tippy toes to whisper a hurried apology into his ear over the sound of the blaring music, while rushing to go get paper towels.

his favorite thing about you is how attentively you listen. it doesn’t matter what he’s talking about, you’ll be making eye contact and nodding along to whatever he has to say.

gets irritated with you during arguments, because you well… don’t engage. he could be giving a verbal, ten page, double spaced paper about how irritated he is with you, and you’ll just look at him like you’re bored.

“all i’m saying is that you don’t have to get aggressive with me over this. yes, i was at armin’s late and didn’t say anything, but i’ll tell you next time, okay? i’m sorry.” “okay.” “i said sorry, damn! stop yelling!”

you aren’t the biggest fan of confrontation, but he is. connect the dots yourself.

“SHE SAID NO GODDAMN TOMATO!” “it’s fine, i can just take them off—“ “not now, baby. gimme a sec, okay? anyway, FIX HER FUCKING BURGER!”

the two of you communicate so silently that it freaks your friends the hell out. when you want to go home, when you’re tired, when he’s needy, when he’s irritated? easy, simple eye contact will send you or him springing into action to fix the problem.

you may be quiet, but you love to laugh. jean doesn’t think he can think of anything more angelic-sounding than the sound of your genuine laughter, only for him.

jean had to learn how to be more tender when doing daily tasks. he was so used to slamming doors and stomping up stairs that he didn’t remember to adjust that behavior when you moved in.

(the first week you moved in, he’d thrown open the door to your bedroom and felt his chest squeeze as you almost tumbled out of your desk chair. now he puts three gentle taps on every door when he needs to come in.)

physical touch fanatic. end of discussion.

NSFW

lemme tell you, this man takes it to heart when you try to hold in your moans. you’re a little embarrassed with how loud you get, but nothing turns jean on more.

“nuh uh, lemme hear you—need to hear how good i’m making you feel, princess..”

during your first time together, he’d almost cum in his pants at the mere sound of your loud groans bouncing off the walls.

loves when you pull his hair more than anything. he takes it as a sign to go harder, fuck you deeper, and he obliges everytime. his cock throbs harder each time you run your fingers through his loose curls.

about 5.7 inches roughly, but thick. his cock flares as it goes downward; the head being the slimmest part. giving him head is fun, you think.

jean has this weird little fixation with your neck. it doesn’t matter what position he has you in, he’ll have a hand—or his mouth—running across the skin of your throat. backshots? he’s got a hand pressing against your nape to keep you in place. missionary? he’s massaging his thumb over your throat so tenderly that it should be illegal. cowgirl? he’s squeezing the sides of your neck while whispering about how good of a girl you’re being for him. he’s pretty damn weird.

his favorite thing to do is eat you out. you deny it, but your voice shoots up a whole octave when he massages your gspot with his two fingers of choice as he suckles on your swollen clit.

utterly surprised at how much you talk during sex. it almost embarrasses him how much you beg, scream, and whine for him. a mixture of ‘please’s’ and ‘fuck’s being infused in his head for eternity.

“oouu—shit, you’re so fucking loud…”

presses down on your stomach to feel where he is so he can try and go deeper… yeah.

tries to fuck your throat hoarse just to hear your raspy voice for a few hours. you’re such a trooper, just sitting there and taking it for him, even if he laughs at you after.

“babe, i’m so sorry—hahaha!” “this isn’t funny, i sound like t-pain!” “I LIKE THE BARRRTENDERRR—ouch, im sorry, i said i’m sorry!”

aftercare god. he’ll spend hours taking care of you, washing your back in the tub, greasing your scalp, making you tea and cookies, the whole nine. this man loves you deep.

566 notes · View notes

4ttack-ur-heart · 11 months

Text

Jean Hc’s: Mf Whipped

Pairing: Jean x gn! reader modern au!

Warnings: none

Summary: Just jean not wanting to admit he’s a big softie when it comes to you.

Genre: fluff.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but Jean is the biggest softie when it comes to loving you.

Jean will absolutely hold your hand in public, kiss you, open the door for you, but he will never let anyone find out how much he’ll do for you.

Fuck, you wanna do a face mask at midnight? He’ll clip his hair back and have you apply it on him. You want to slow dance with him after watching a romcom movie? He’s there with his phone blasting pretty music. You need to talk to him after a bad day? Jean will leave his friends to make sure you’re taken care of.

He’s a simp.

But he tries to hide it.

It’s so funny when you catch on.

One day, you both were sitting at the park, hidden away from public eyes. Flowers littered around you both and you absentmindedly starting to pluck a few.

Jeans head was laying in your lap, arms crossed behind his head. His view was gazing at the clouds slowly passing by along, eyes darting to your face every few minutes with a longing smile.

“What are you doing?” He asked now with his eyes closed. He could feel your fingertips brushing along his hair every few moments and an extra weight of something being placed on him.

“Nothing, don’t move.”

Jean chuckled at your words, obviously amused in what you were doing.

After placing the last flower in his hair, you quickly snapped a picture on your phone before he noticed something was up.

“Can I look now?”

“Ugh, fine but don’t sit up.” You told him and he grabbed his phone and switched on his camera. A small smile gracing his features when he saw various amounts of little white daisies and yellow dandelions placed in his hair.

“You look so pretty.” You gushed and leaned down to kiss him.

Jean blushed a little and you had to resist the urge to tease him. His usual ‘strong man’ barrier always broke when it was just you two alone.

Jean poked at daisies before plucking one out of his hair and gently brushing your hair back and placing it behind your ear.

“There, now we both look pretty.”

————

A few days later, you were on the couch scrolling through your Instagram feed, liking your friends’ posts and commenting on a few.

Your notifications were piling in since you just posted a few pictures of some selfies you took, but the last one was something special.

“(Y/n)!” Jeans voice called through the apartment.

“Yeah?” You innocently looked up at him when he entered the room.

“Care to explain this, doll?”

Jean shoved his phone in your face and you had to blink a few times to clearly see.

A smirk grew on your face when you realized he found your special picture on the post you shared. Staring at the platform more, you realized Eren had reposted your post with the picture of Jean you had taken at the park.

The picture showed him laying down on your lap, his eyes closed and his lips were slightly parted. The little flowers in his hair were vibrant against his ashen brown locks and a small pink dust coated his cheeks from the sun. You also didn’t forget to capture the way his muscles were showing through his shirt as his arms were flexed behind his head.

You could see Eren had minimized your post on his story, the phrase ‘mf whipped fr 🤝’ in blocky letter captioned underneath the post.

A sudden laugh caught Jean off guard as he watched your reaction. You knew Eren supported your relationship to the max, but that doesn’t mean he still can’t tease Jean about it.

Looking at his face, Jean was trying to hide his amused face under a glare.

“Relax, my little flower.” You cooed in a baby voice and gently squeezed his face under your palms. “I was just showing the world how much I love you…unless you’d rather me take it down?” Your eyebrow rose as you pouted. You knew he’d never ask you to that.

He let out a soft sigh and locked his phone. “No, don’t take it down. But you owe me! I need to post another video of me working out.”

You playfully rolled your eyes as Jeans thoughts were rambling out loud.

“I’ll invite Eren to work out with me, yeah. Then when we post the video, it’ll be obvious I’m bigger than him. God damn, I’m a genius.”

Standing up, you gave him a soft peck on the cheek before walking to the bathroom.

“I’m gonna do a face mask right now, babe.”

“Wait for me!”

1K notes · View notes

hinasakuino · 5 months

Text

Jean can fuck! I’m sorry this is for my extremely depraved girlies! And self indulgent because Jean brainrot occurs nonstop! NSFW below the cut.

Warnings: nsfw 18+, some dirty talk,mentions of nipple play, finger fucking, pussy eating, doggy, missionary.

I imagine he’s an attentive lover, he makes sure he’s kissed every inch of exposed skin before fully undressing you. He loves staring at you, even if you squirm under his gaze, jutting your hips in the air, clenching on nothing as you try to get him to touch you wordlessly. It strokes his ego big time when he’s got you speechless and whimpering for him. Which is why he always gives you what you want. He hates teasing you because he enjoys watching the way you give into pleasure. He’s very big into foreplay, loves kissing big time(!!!) Early into the relationship he’d feel just a little embarrassed everytime you guys made out, always shoving you away quickly to hide his raging hard on. You liked this, teasing him about it until he has you pinned and gasping, his hand wrapped around your throat as he kisses you, grinding into you so frantically you’re not sure which one of you might come first. He loves playing with your tits especially when you’re on top facing him. He loves getting you worked up like this, you’re so responsive to his touch, cradling his head and holding him closer as you grind down in his lap. Ohhhhh!! Mans also eats for his pleasure. He loves playing with your pussy with you in his lap but he goes crazy pleasing you the most with his mouth. You get so wet when he laps at your clit, his warm tongue curling around your bud sends tidal waves of pleasure through you, you’re quick to put your hands in his hair, pulling and tugging when he’s got you close. It works you up even more when you see him rutting into the mattress because he really gets off to you getting off.

Oh! And he talks you through it! So filthy with it too!

When he plays with your pussy with you spread in his lap, he likes to leave open mouth kisses down your neck, sucking softly at your sweet spots, chuckling when you press more on his fingers. “Look at you dirty girl,” He’d say smirking when you shake your head no but your pussy throbs, squeezing onto him.

“Cmon I can feel you getting ready to cum for me,” He ruts against you, cock painfully hard as you moan loudly, grasping his bicep, your hips wiggling wildly.

“I can’t baby,”You warn, taking a deep breath, he spreads your legs wider, fingers pumping in and out and with his other hand rubbing your clit in quick precise circles.

“One more big one baby, come on do this for daddy,” he bites into your shoulder. It's harsh but that quickly is replaced by his tongue, hot and warm as he licks where he just bit. And it rips an orgasm through you. Sendings your eyes rolling with his name coming out in quick pants as you make a mess on him.

“That’s it baby, give it to me, I wanna see how dirty I can get you,” He huffs, breath hot as he continues finger fucking you through your orgasm.

He absolutely loves when you come on his dick. He likes having you doggy, back arched, arms restricted and pussy on full display. He doesn’t like to tie you up but he does like using his strength on you, placing your arms behind your back as he fucks you, or have you fuck back onto him. He loves it when you’re so cock drunk you let him use you, rolling your hips back and forth onto himself, groaning at the way your walls mold to his length.

When he cums, it’s a lot. I want to believe he’s a moaner, but I also imagine him as the type of guy who relishes in the feeling of his orgasm so he’s always mumbling incoherently, sweet words pouring from his mouth saying how good you make him feel. If you’re fucking in missionary, he cums quicker because he absolutely can’t tear his eyes away from your needy ones. He watches where you’re both joined, your pussy sucking him back in your fingers rub quick needy circles on your clit and it pushes him over the edge, grunting out a small “oh fuck, I’m cumming”, before spilling inside you.. At the start of the relationship he always made sure to pull out and would jerk off into his hand until one day you positioned yourself in front of him, doe-eyed and wanting. Mouth open and inviting and he cums almost instantly all over your face (it’s so much and he immediately feels bad), the image is burned into his brain and he stores it away in the spank bank whenever you two are apart.

He’s big on aftercare, will clean you up, and ask if you need anything before cuddling the absolute shit out of you. He’s not clingy but he loves the skin to skin contact, and the way you fit perfectly into him. He’s not a talker afterwards but neither are you, so you both either fall asleep after five minutes or he watches with you as you scroll through videos on your phone.

#banner by cafekitsune #jean x reader smut #jean kirstein smut #jean x you #jean kirstein imagine #jean kirstein x reader #jean x reader #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean smut #jean kirstein x y/n #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschstein #jean aot #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirschtein headcanons #jean kirschtein x reader

628 notes · View notes

xfgpng · 1 year

Text

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲, 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 —

— : [ nsfw ] car sex, dacryphilia, pet names, unprotected sex, spanking, riding + jean is so whipped

— : wc : 766

he likes to pretend he’s not a softy. he doesn’t need his friends teasing him anymore than they already do and he definitely doesn’t need them knowing how good your pussy makes him feel.

he’s so whipped for you. he really does love everything about you but there’s something so sinful about the way you grip and clench around him. the way you whisper in his ear and kiss your way up his neck to his lips. he’s so horny around you even when you’re doing the most mundane things.

jean is not the submissive type and he’s always the one in control but he’s never really been able to deny you anything and when it comes to fucking you? he makes sure to keep you more than satisfied.

the first time it happened, he hadn’t even been aware of it. he was moaning louder than usual, head tossed back as you rode him his the backseat of his car. you were an impatient thing, always getting your way.

he could feel his toes curling in his shoes, grip around your hips so tight it hurt. you felt heavenly around him, bouncing up and down with so much energy, the poor man was surprised at his own ability to keep up with you.

“fuck baby, fuck” he whines, a sob wracking through his entire body that he shakes, the muscles in his abdomen clenching and unclenching with the intensity. it shocks you that you end up cumming, head tucked in the crook of his neck.

it wasn’t until you were pulling back that you saw his face. pretty eyes glass from the way he had teared up. he was biting his lip hard so you lean in to kiss his jaw softly.

“you okay baby?” you whisper, wrapping his arm around his neck as the other hand came up to wipe his eyes and cup his jaw. he really was so handsome.

“y-yeah” he nods, bottom lip quivering as he tried to catch his breath. he was so embarrassed and he didn’t know why. he had never felt that good in his life and he knows he’s never cried just from sex.

“aw sweetheart” you coo, “it’s okay, you made me feel so good”

you placed soft kisses across his face and you slowly moved your hips. the slow grinding with his cock still nestled inside you caused him to whine against your lips.

“shhh” you said gently, “let me take care of you”

he loved aftercare more than he cared to admit. you were so gentle and soft and he knew he’d make it up to you as soon as he calmed down.

sex with you was so intense that he found himself whimpering and tearing up whenever you sucked him off. kissing and sucking your way down to his balls. he was so in love with you that it hurt to think about.

jean was obsessed it almost scared him.

“so good” you gasp, gripping the pillow beneath you as he fucked into you hard and fast. he needed to feel all of you, pulling the condom off when you begged him to. he was more than happy to cum inside you.

“i know” he groans, slapping your ass hard. it sent a shiver up your spine so he did it a few more times until you were the one crying for him.

he could feel you creaming his cock and he would make a mental note to record the next time he fucked you. it wasn’t enough for him to just burn the images of you like this in his mind. he needed to watch it over and over to see you like this.

just for him.

you weren’t any better yourself. it turned you on to know you could reduce jean to a crying, whimpering mess. it was always amusing to watch him lose himself while he fucked you like he didn’t love you. his eyes would shine bright with unshed tears and he’d bite his bottom lip, the inside of his cheek or you to stop himself from sobbing as he came.

you loved to watch him whine when you rode him. he couldn’t hide from you as you gripped his jaw, kissing his lips every once in a while to watch him squirm. he was so embarrassed and you loved it.

when he was cumming, it was the only time jean showed any signs of being a little submissive. you had no idea just what you did to him but he’d never complain.

he hoped it would never change.

2K notes · View notes

mhahaikyuus · 6 months

Text

handle

wc:; 2.4k

tags:; established relationship, minor fight, jean being pouty, mentions of previous friends to lovers, eren flirting, jean being whipped, cute ending

a/n: first aot work

He can’t handle you being mad at him, especially when you refuse to let him help you in anyway. It pisses him off more than anything else.

You two had gotten in an argument in the car bickering over seemingly nothing until he muttered, “This is why no one can handle your ass”

Your hearing picked up on it and you gave him the dirtiest side-eye. He could feel the waves of anger coming from your gaze.

“Yeah you’re right. And i’m grown I don’t need anyone to ‘handle’ me.” You said slamming the car door and walking to the event not even caring if he was coming.

Jean in an empty car groaned, hitting the wheel before taking a breath and climbing out. His long legs catching up to you with ease.

You had a speciality for angering him. Jean was pretty easygoing and didn’t let a lot affect him. But you knew what buttons to push.

You were going down the sidewalk with cars whizzing by and Jean as mad as he was didn’t like that.

Jean always was closest to the road to protect you.

He wanted to protect you even when he was mad.

“Hey! Move over. It’s dangerous.” He called out looking down at you and watching the cars speed by.

“No.” You said continuing to walk closest to the edge.

“I’m serious, move over.” He said beginning to get more upset trying to tug on your arm but you shook him off. His eyes watching your arm hang by your side.

You ignored him continuing to walk.

In heels.

Your clumsy self in heels walking closest to the street with cars. A street known for accidents.

“You can’t walk closest.” He said again trying to not upset you further but hating this. You could really get hurt. B

“Watch me.” Continuing to walk.

As a crosswalk another couple was there and the man gave Jean a once over with a look of disapproval at your positions. You closest to the road.

Jean took what felt like a lashing at the man’s disapproving stare. Feeling like a sicko or freak. A horrible boyfriend for this but you wouldn’t budge. He tried to grab your arm again and pull you to the side but you gave him the nastiest look making him slowly put his hand back.

You two crossed two more streets and you came to the venue.

It was one of your best friend's events and you of course helped her with whatever she needed before too many guests arrived. In the kitchen trying to help prepare the food to ease the load off of her. Jean was quiet and stayed with you as you helped. Jean lingered by the wall as you stood at the counter.

A jar was given to you and you couldn’t open it.

You grunted at effort hunching over trying to open the sealed jar. Jean stepped forward with his hand out.

“Give it.”

Normally you would hand it to him and kiss him on the cheek in thanks. But after that argument you gave him another dirty look.

“Eren can you open this for me?” You said sweetly across the room with a pout walking over to him.

He stopped his task of napkins and smiled at you. Leaning in closer to you knowing how beautiful he was. Running his hands through his brown locks and giving his most charming face. “Whatever you need baby.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at him, giving him a look that would make him melt.

Jean never wanted to slam Eren’s face into the table more.

“What Jean couldn’t help?” He teased handing you the jar now opened. Eren’s green eyes scouring every inch of your perfect body. In a flowy dress and heels, looking gorgeous.

“He’s busy right now. I wouldn’t ask him.” You shrugged leaning back against the table starting at your heels.

Jean wasn’t busy. He was sulking in the corner standing near you waiting for your permission to let him love you again.

Eren gave him a once over and laughed at the

“Busy huh?”

Jean sucked his teeth in annoyance and pushed out the swinging door to leave the back room.

Once the food was done you were decorating trying to rush. A heavy box of lights was given to you making you grunt in effort.

Jean was watching you from across the room. Seeing your arms strain to carry the box. Connie and Sasha were joking around with him but he was too distracted watching you.

Offering small, "Okay connie, yeah sure, really." throughout the jokes to seem like he wasn't completely obsessed and watching you from across the room.

“Oh my god this is heavy.” You whined at Mikasa as she dropped it into your hands, “Not everybody has the Ackerman strength babe.” You said making her laugh.

To decorate you were on your tip toes struggling but eventually jumping to place the lights high up. Jumping to reach the stud. Something he could do easily being over six feet tall.

Your friends were picking up on the fact that you weren’t speaking to him.

If you two were normal you would be standing behind him pointing and telling him what to do as he obediently did whatever task you requested. In between each task stealing a kiss from you as a reward.

Everyone was snickering at Jean being sulky and you shrugging it off. The group all unanimously agreed this was worse than when he was pining for you but you were clueless and single enjoying whatever guy giving you attention. Now the pre-party entertainment was once again laughing at his sulkiness as you were unbothered.

He wanted to carry the box for you and he could’ve helped with the lights.

But you didn’t want his help.

Your boyfriend’s.

You would rather walk on the street to get hit by a car and call Eren who had a crush on you to help you out. Or hurt your back carrying heavy items. Hopping around in heels to decorate the walls. A struggle with reaching the borders of the room when he would’ve helped. Jean thought bitterly

He’s mad about the fight but he would never not help you. It was his job and he took that very seriously. You were his baby.

He was getting pissed at you ignoring him when you needed him. Jean loved doting on you and you using him when you needed him.

Jean wasn’t even mad about the argument anymore. It was rare after an hour or so he would be angry at you. He has a hard time staying mad at you when all he can think about are your lips.

Your pouty lips pulled into a frown, your eyebrows scrunched, and your eyes looked soulless with your anger. He knew he shouldn’t have said the handle comment but you weren’t even giving him a chance to apologize.

How could he stay mad at you when you looked like something out of a painting.

You on the other hand made it a point to not ask him for anything. If no one could “handle” you then that was fine. You were independent long before you met him and had no problem going back. You didn’t need him or anyone else to handle you.

Eren was seizing the opportunity of you brushing off your boyfriend in the name of a fight.

Making you laugh and being the guy that swooped in to help even though you insisted you were fine.

“How can I let a beautiful lady fend for herself.” He teased untangling the wires of the lights for you.

“Eren. I’m hanging lights nothing too difficult.” You said with a roll of your eyes continuing to decorate.

“If you were my girl you wouldn’t be hanging lights. You would be relaxing watching me do all the work. You can sit there and look pretty.” He flirted

“That would be sweet if I was single.” You reminded him.

“Baby with all the work you’re doing you might as well be. Give me a chance.” Eren said getting closer to you pinning you down with his stare.

“You better stop before he comes over here.” You warned. It was fun to irritate Jean when he did the same to you but you would never cross a line to endanger your relationship.

You knew how Eren got under his skin just by being in the room with you. And you knew Jean had a watchful eye for you, his gaze never lifting.

With Eren being so bold Jean might actually kill the man.

Jean was not a violent person. But when it came to you he was ready to maim before letting another man sweep you off your feet.

“You two are fighting am I right?” Eren asked with raised eyebrows

You huffed in annoyance, “So what if we are?”

“I would never fight with you.” He smiled down at you and you could feel your eyes roll out of your skull to your heeled feet.

“Yeah okay.”

“I’m serious. You tell me to shut up and I will.” He said leaning in his green eyes piercing you.

Eren would take any opportunity to try and be with you. His body became way too close for friends and your eyes widened.

Jean yanked Eren back by his shoulder with a scowl. He wanted to ball his fist and start swinging on the arrogant prick but that would piss you off so much more.

“Move it Jeager before I get angry.”

Eren shrugged his hand off his shoulder rolled his eyes and walked backwards away from you. Backing up with a wink before leaving the kitchen.

“What.” You said with an attitude looking at him

Jean huffed running a hand through his hair, knowing you were why he was losing it.

“Talk to me.”

You glared at him.

He shrinked back changing his demeanor. He could have an attitude with Eren not with you, awkwardly clearing his throat,”Please…please.”

“What do you want.”

“I want you to speak to me. Stop ignoring me and let me love you again.”

“I thought I was so irritating that you couldn’t stand me. No one can handle me, right? ” You muttered.

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.” You said arranging flowers into the vases on the counter.

“I shouldn’t have said that earlier i’m sorry.” He said poking your side making you swat at his hand trying to pull you into him.

“Yeah you shouldnt have.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I heard you the last ten times”. You said

Jean was tired of your attitude. Grabbing you again into his arms from behind, one large hand over your waist the other wrapped around your neck so you couldn’t escape.

“Kiss me back.” He said trying to catch your lips but you swiveled your head in his mock headlock.

“No! i don’t want to.”

“You won’t forgive me and you’ll be upset for the rest of the night if I don’t do this.” He protested

You struggled in his hold, “Let me go!”

“Not until you forgive me.”

“Okay! Fine I forgive you.” You lied just wanting to break free from his grasp.

He squinted at you studying your face, “You’re lying.” Bringing your head down into an actual headlock. You shrieked in shock causing Sasha to walk through the swinging door to see the both of you.

Jean holding you in a headlock begging for your forgiveness and you yelled curses at him. Sasha grabbed a snack roll off the counter and backed away for you two to deal with it.

Sasha knew Jean would never do anything to hurt you. Just like when you were play-fighting as the group had seen 100 times before.

You groaned loudly smacking his arm but he wasn’t letting up.

“Forgive me and let me love you.” Jean sighed

“This is abuse.” You whined

You used the only other tool you had left in your disposal.

Biting his arm harder than you usually did. Enough to make him jolt in pain making you satisfied. It only allowed for the loosening of his large limb constraining you for a split second.

“Don’t bite me!” He yelped in horror

“Let go!” You yelled smacking his arm and your body facing the ground, head tilted to the floor, hair hanging all around you.

“No!”

“I’m in heels this isn’t fair!” You called out, your center of gravity off balance and your feet in pain. Unable to run away or slip from him.

“What isn’t fair is your attitude.” He chided you

“Eren would never do this to me.” You said just to piss him off.

Jean froze for a second before leaning down to your eye level.

“That was low.”

You stuck your tongue at him.

You and Jean always were so childish with each other even when you two were just friends. Nothing had changed now that you two were in love.

“Please.” You pouted trying to sway him

“Not until you say it.” He said with a smug smile making you jolt at his touch as he made you laugh using his finger to quickly tickle.

“Okay! okay ow ow. I love you i’m not mad anymore.”

“And?”

You rolled your eyes, “I forgive you.”

The arm putting you in a headlock loosening until he had you in his arms as you finally took a full breath standing up straight. Running your hands through your hair trying to straighten yourself up.

“You’re mean.” You said into his chest as he rubbed your back.

“I had to use other methods. I was not going to watch Eren flirt with you for the rest of the night.” Jean reasoned kissing your head.

“He’s just mad I like you more.” You reassured your cheek smooshed into his chest as he soothed you.

“You better.” Jean said with a smile.

“I almost broke a heel.” You whined looking at your foot.

Jean could roll his eyes at you. Hands grip your waist and placing you on the counter.

He kneeled down to check your ankle to see if any real damage had been done.

Jean kissed it and began kissing up your leg before licking a strip up your calf, you smacked his chest with a gasp.

“Anyone can walk in.” You hissed at him

“Sorry baby.” Jean said standing at his full height.

He readjusted the necklace he had given you at six months of his initials. Gently pulling your hair back from your tangled chain.

"Is my hair messed up?" You asked trying to smooth your hair down

"No you look beautiful." Jean said holding a hand out to help you down.

You took it and your boyfriend gave you a peck on the lips.

“Are you going to let me help you now.” He asked and you nodded.

“Get that box right there.” You said pointing to the heavy cardboard box.

Jean smiled happy to be bossed around by you once again.

#aot #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein #aot x reader #eren yeager #aot imagines #aot fluff #attack on titan #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirschtein fluff

406 notes · View notes

eli0004 · 29 days

Text

Fuck me With Feelings

Pairing: Fwb!Jean Kirstein x reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Jean and reader have been casually fucking, but Jean quickly learns that the whole no strings attached thing isn’t working for him. After confessing to reader, he’s unsatisfied with her response, but neglects to say anything and resumes their meetups as usual. He quickly finds out how badly he misunderstood, when the two of them engage in some very heavy, passionate and emotional sex on the kitchen floor.

Contains: marijuana usage, fem!reader, unprotected sex, fwb arrangement, praise, slight overstimulation, jean talks too much, biting, possessiveness, pining, jean is in love and SO soft for reader, fluffy shit, yk…the usual, no power dynamics.

“Wait…grab me the salt” You speak, lowering the cookbook to look at the tall male standing in front of you.

“Salt.” Jean announces as he sets the small white shaker on the counter beside you. You nod curtly, glancing at him out of the corner of your bleary red eyes with a smile as you turn back to the mixing bowl in front of you. Time is moving in slow motion, and all you can think about is getting some food in your stomach.

“Thanks. Now, it says we’re supposed to pour the mixture into the pan? Wait…shit, aren’t we supposed to butter the pan first?”

The two of you look at each other in shared confusion for a moment, before he begins laughing. You scoff in annoyance, rolling your eyes and shoving the cook book towards him to see for himself.

“Jesus Jean, can you be serious for 5 minutes?” You glare. The sandy-blonde stops laughing and looks at you with an unreadable expression, brown eyes glimmering with mischief before you both erupt in laughter.

As the giggles die out, he pokes at your side, causing you to jump in surprise, before stepping away from the counter.

“Alright alright, out of the way.” He sighs happily, taking the bowl from your hand. “Just leave it to the professional.” He turns up his nose, grinning playfully, as you roll your eyes and groan at his feigned arrogance. You slap his shoulder as you move away from the counter to change the music playing through your kitchen speaker.

It’s a Friday night, and the rain is coming down in sheets, slamming against your windows aggressively. Jean, dressed in a pair of grey sweats and a black oversized hoodie, had come over earlier in the evening as he has so many times before, although this time in particular, different from the rest. His demeanor had seemed slightly off, and it was clear something was on his mind, though he only seemed frustrated when you’d initially prodded.

The two of you had been seeing each other for months in secret, having mutual friends who would tease you both relentlessly if they found out you two were fucking. Because that’s all it was anyway, just harmless fucking. No strings attached, just blowing off steam. There wasn’t any need to announce it, and the both of you would’ve rather kept your business to yourselves anyway.

As time went on, however, Jean found himself hopelessly in love, having accidentally attached all the strings you’d told him to leave unattached. Your twinkling eyes, your sweet smile, the first thought he thinks in the morning, the last one of the night. Unbeknownst to him, the feeling was mutual, and you’d also quickly found yourself wanting to spend more time together outside of the bedroom. Earlier that morning, in a burst of courage Jean had texted you:

“i don’t think i can keep fucking with no feelings. I’m sorry…i just don’t know how to turn them off.”

Without much thought, you typed out a response:

“Ok…fuck me with feelings then. Duh.”

And that was that. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, stomach in knots all day, and a permanent frown etched onto his face. He felt defeated, stupid, for thinking he could stay away from you even if you didn’t feel the same.

The day progressed as usual, Jean arrived at your place 8 PM as usual, the two of you got violently high together as usual. By midnight, hungry and handsy, the two of you ended up in the kitchen trying to follow a recipe for skillet gnocchi, despite your altered cognitive abilities.

“Professional” Jean Kirstein is actually pretty good at cooking when he isn’t stoned out of his mind. But the task at hand is proving to be difficult now. The man stares at the skillet on the stove in confusion as you flip through your Spotify playlist. Recognizing the silence, you turn to him and glance over his shoulder.

“Everything ok over there?” You ask, raising a brow.

“Nothing is happening.” He states, matter of factly.

“Did you turn on the stove?”

“Oh..” He blushes furiously, thick brows pulling together as he scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Well, shit” You immediately burst into laughter, slapping his shoulder a second time, affectionately.

“Wow! So “professional” of you!” You all but shout, doubled over against the counter and clutching your stomach. He rolls his hazy honey brown eyes, unamused at your exploitative jokes.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He grumbles, turning away from you to find the stove dial. You sigh contentedly as your laughter subsides.

“Oh Jeanbo~ you’re so fucking cute…” you hum mindlessly, gazing at him with a dopey smile.

…

Jean freezes. It’s the first time he’s ever really heard you say something like that, and the affection dripping from your words has his stomach fluttering and his mind reeling. It’s unfair, really, and it irritates him. He turns to look at you in surprise, brows furrowed, eyes meeting yours before he looks to the ceiling. His reddened cheeks puff out as he contemplates a response.

“Uh…you mean that?” He asks, suddenly feeling vulnerable. His eyes scan your face for any signs of dishonesty, wondering if you might be playing with his heart to get what you want from him. The way you’ve been speaking to him tonight is so drastically different than how you’ve been treating him for the last few months. Not that you’ve been treating him poorly, you’ve just never been this open about how you feel towards him. Your words feel deliberate and meaningful whereas before you’d only compliment him like that when your eyes were lust-blown and your hands were all over his body.

“Obviously, i thought we established that this morning” you deadpan, head tilting to the side.

“No, not really, i actually had no idea what to make of it.”

There’s a moment of silence as you two stare at each other, before the realization hits and you begin to feel guilty. Had your message not been as clear as you’d initially hoped it would be? Unsure of what to say, you close your mouth. Jean takes your silence as confirmation, and sighs, shoulders slumping dejectedly, quietly turning back to the stove to turn it on.

Thinking for a moment, you frown, drawing shapes on the countertop with eyes cast down like a kicked puppy. Wiggling out of your seat, you approach him where he stands at the stove, gazing up at him with a soft, nearly sympathetic smile. He doesn’t dare look at you, afraid his burning face will betray him, knocking down his mask of fragile-aloofness.

“Jean…” you tilt your head to the side, hair falling over your shoulder. Bringing a hand to his back, you draw slow, gentle circles there. He shivers, but his silence is unwavering. “Baby~ you know something?” You hum.

Jean glances at you and shrugs, tossing some stuff you don’t care to look at into the pan.

“I think you’re so handsome. I think you’re adorable, and goofy, and sweet. I think anyone would be lucky to be the object of your affection. I feel lucky that i get to be…” you coo at him, your hand dipping below his hoodie to scratch his bare back, how he likes it. He can’t help but smile at your words, blinking slowly as he turns to look down at you, your faces only a few inches apart from each other. “Yeah?” He whispers “go on”

You snort, rolling your eyes playfully at his blatant request for praise, and reach out to click the stove off, having a feeling about where this was going to lead.

“You’re funny, you always make me laugh…“ you whisper “You’re strong” squeezing his bicep slightly with your other hand, you rake your eyes down his body. “So sexy~”

The man’s cheeks are impossibly red, his head is spinning and his body feels like it’s burning up as he listens to you sing his praises. He glances down at your lips, nearly nose to nose with you as he grins. “What else?”

You smirk, beckoning him to turn and face you head on and pressing your body against his own. Your hands place themselves on his chest as you murmur “You’re all mine.”

Something feral snaps within him and he all but attacks your lips, pinning your hips against the counter with his own. Your hands scramble to grab onto the fabric of his hoodie, desperately yanking at it as you peel it off of him. Your lips dance together fervently, pressing against each other with such passion, as if he’s worried you’ll slip away from him if he doesn’t hold you tightly enough.

He shoves his hands under your college sweatshirt, running his warm palms over your bare breasts and brushing his thumbs over your peaked nipples. His touch draws a sharp gasp from your mouth against his lips, and he swallows the sound of it.

You lick against his bottom lip and he accepts it urgently, parting his lips and moving his eager tongue in rhythm with your own. Tangling your hands into the roots of his sandy blonde hair, you push your hips forward to grind against his erection and he throbs, soft, sweet groans muffled against your lips.

Jean grips your waist tightly, pulling you against him as he backs himself up against the counter, sliding down to the floor. Pulling you on top of him, he settles you against his lap, tossing his head back when your lips attach to the column of his throat.

“Fuck baby…fuck” he gasps, feeling you sucking bruises into the skin. All visible places, and he knows why. The possessiveness, the feeling of finally belonging to you, it sends waves of intense arousal coursing through his bloodstream. Every movement you make, grinding your hips down against his hard cock sends his mind reeling with pleasure, senses wildly heightened by the pot in your systems.

“Gonna tell everyone that you’re mine baby, i’m so…fuck- happy you’re mine” he groans, guiding your hips to move against. You gasp softly at the friction, becoming increasingly wetter by the minute.

You pull away and quickly shimmy out of your pants, as best as you can while straddling the man’s lap. He brings his fingers down, eyeing the cute panties you wear before yanking them aside to collect your arousal on his fingers.

“Fuck..you’re so wet for me, all for me” he growls as he dips his slick digits into your pussy. His fingers are long, nimble, and curl up deliciously into the spongy spot inside you. You moan softly, feeling every inch of his middle and forefinger in places that your own fingers could never hope to reach.

“Oh god..Jean~ Fuck me” you moan out, rutting against his hand. He slides his fingers out of your hole, rubbing them against your clit and covering it in your own arousal. Tossing your head back, you groan at the loss of internal sensation, but you have no time to be disappointed as you hear him eagerly yanking the waistband of his sweats and underwear down to let his aching cock spring free. He’s leaking more than you’ve ever seen, precum dripping down the slit of his sensitive head and collecting below his navel.

Leaning in for another eager kiss, you swat his hand away and wrap your fingers around his shaft. He’s so deliciously thick, you can almost feel the stretch, the memory of it causing your cunt to throb. Biting his lip gently, you give him a few languid strokes, spreading the sticky precum over the length of him and guiding him to your entrance. His mind is hazy, he jolts as the sensation overwhelms him. You feel different this time, though he can’t pinpoint why.

You slide his tip through the slick folds of your pussy, before enveloping him in your wet warmth. jean nearly chokes on the strangled moan that erupts from his chest as you pull away from the kiss to toss your head back, breathing out a soft “fuck”.

His hands eagerly grip your waist, guiding you up and down on him slow and passionate. The pleasure coursing through him is building quickly in the form of an impending, earth shattering orgasm at the very core of his abdomen. The coil in his tummy, while not unfamiliar, is seemingly more intense than it’s ever been, he won’t last long. Why is he getting close so fast?

Suddenly it occurs to him as you bring your lips back to his own, kissing him passionately, and packed full of raw, unfiltered emotion. He feels wanted, he feels loved, he feels complete. Perhaps it’s the intimacy of having himself sheathed inside of you raw for the first time, it must be. Sex with you has never felt so intense and fulfilling than it does in this moment.

Your hips are moving quicker now as you chase your orgasm, every inch, every ridge, every vein of his length stroking your insides like it was hand crafted to fit there. Feeling your legs tense up, and your stomach begin to tighten, you throw your arms around Jean’s neck and pull him close, biting down on the muscle of his broad shoulder as you cum impossibly hard, eyes rolling back with a loud moan. He snakes his arms around your waist, holding you tightly there as he snaps his hips up into you, slamming into your cervix like his life depends on it. The feeling of your teeth in his skin threatens to push him over the edge.

“Baby! Right there- oh god keep doing that, don’t let go of me!” He rasps against the shell of your ear, and as you sink your teeth in deeper, mewling softly at the overstimulation, Jean cums with such intensity, he thinks he might ascend. More and more spurts out of him, and his body convulses with every rope of it, lurching him forward to moan loudly, muffled into your hair.

The sound of ragged breaths and sharp gasps echo off the kitchen walls as you both come down from the high of your orgasm, bodies tangled together and unmoving. After a minute, Jean’s hand finds itself in your hair, running his fingers through it affectionately. Something he’s wanted to do for a long time. He gazes down at you with adoration replacing old lust, smiling softly as you pull back to look at him.

The two of you stay that way for a minute or two, just panting against each other before he speaks.

“So…uh- does this mean-“ he glances down at the floor and then back up to meet your eyes.

“You’re never gonna get away from me” you grin, plopping down against his chest in exhaustion as you giggle slightly. He bites his lip, excitement bubbling up in him like a little kid, as he holds you tightly.

“Why would i ever wanna?”

158 notes · View notes

jeankirsteinsgirl · 8 months

Note

Hi babe! I saw your post about sending requests! What about Husband!Jean who is absolutely head over heels for his wife. Like he still gets giddy whenever he sees her and still flirts with her as if they aren’t married. 😭 it’s so cute!

Husband!Jean headcanons

Summary: Jean being a sweetie as your husband!!

CW: lots of fluff, maybe a little suggested smut, not much.

Husband Jean who loves to do acts of service for his beloved like making you breakfast in bed on the weekends, running you a warm bath, giving you massages when you're on the couch, bringing you flowers home as soon as he can

Husband Jean who wakes up before you and lets you sleep while admiring your beautiful sleeping face, just thinking about how lucky he is to sleep next to you

Husband Jean who pulls a blanket over you whenever you accidentally fall asleep on the couch, being sure to tuck you in and kiss your forehead

Husband Jean who insists he hates your silly little shows but watches and comments on them the entire time

He'd pretend to be looking at his phone and glance up when you're not looking until you catch him watching intently making little comments every now and then on what's happening until he asks you to watch it with him

Husband Jean who drunk texts you about how much he loves his wife lmao

"Look you're really sweet I'm sure but I'm married" in response to your text asking him when he was coming home later

Husband Jean who buys you whatever you want whenever you want

you tell him you don't need him to, and you don't want to be spoiled but how could he not spoil you when you're so perfect

Husband Jean who comes up from behind you and wraps his long arms around your waist while you're trying to cook dinner for him

"You're so beautiful you know that baby?" while pressing a kiss to your temple

Husband Jean who insists you look better without makeup, even when you tell him that's not necessarily a compliment

Husband Jean who brushes out your hair after your shower

Husband Jean who tries to do all the chores around the house because he thinks you're too pretty to work

Husband Jean who would go out of his way to bring you coffee at work just because you were feeling a little stressed

Of course he remembers your coffee order and he would write a cute little message on it before delivering it to you

"Got this for you honey, just a little pick me up"

Always touching you lol loves holding your hand, playing with your hair, smelling your scent when he hugs you, loves when you lay on him, picking you up, hugging you.

Still flirts with you like you're dating

'"Hey gorgeous how 'bout you and me go on a little date later hm?" "Jean we're married... and we live together."

Husband Jean who doesn't even notice any other women, if he dated anyone before you ha can't remember

You're his one and only and he absolutely worships the ground you walk on

Husband Jean who secretly smells your perfume when you're away because he misses you so much

And of course, if you're away for a while he would write you handwritten letters detailing how much he adores you

Husband Jean who has a big boy job and makes lots of money so he tries to convince you to quit you're job because "Pretty girls shouldn't have to work"

Always wants to kiss you even when it annoys you

Just brushed your teeth? Kiss. Got super drunk? Kiss. Just woke up? Kiss. Trying to eat your dinner? Kiss. In the middle of drinking the coffee, he bought you? Kiss. He can't get enough

Husband Jean who worships your body both sexually and non-sexually.

Loves watching the way you walk, the way your face crinkles when you laugh, loves the feeling of your small fingers intertwined with his, loves how soft your hair is.

Would kiss every inch of your body and has

When you're "making love" as he calls it he would just worship you the entire time

Husband Jean who still gets all flustered and embarrassed when you tell him you want him

Husband Jean whose face turns all red and turns away when you take your clothes out in front of him because he wants to be respectful

Husband Jean who puts your pleasure first of course

"You're so fucking beautiful baby, how did I get so lucky?"

"God you have the most perfect tits I've ever fucking seen."

"You're so gorgeous under me you know that? You know how pretty you are?"

Drives you around everywhere, you're the passenger princess of course

Opens every door for you whenever he can

Knows all of your favorite things and gets them for you whenever you're feeling down

Let's you cry on his chest and holds you tight while he wipes away your tears with his tough fingers.

541 notes · View notes

broadcast-into-the-void · 5 months

Text

I Can't Die a Virgin - Jean x Fem!Reader

A/N: I wrote this after three blinkers and I have written fan fiction since I was 13, so I'm sorry if this is ass.

Contains: Virginity loss (M + F), Oral (F + kinda M), implied feelings, Exhibitionism, Cunnilingus, Mutual Masturbation (M + F), Creampie but like not really, Size kink (+ belly bulge), humiliation??, Breeding kink but like really chill, Porn with little to no plot, technically fuck or die??, Fucking in a forest, Tip-sucking ;p, Finger-sucking, Big dick!Jean, Cock drunk!Reader, Pussy drunk!Jean, Jean lovessssss eating pussy, Kinda bully!Jean, Jean lovesssss mocking you, , implied that Jean has done everything but P in V/penetration, Both you and Jean are dominant and submissive in your own ways, Jean’s a head pusher for 1/16 of a second, Jean fucks himself with your panties for like a minute :3

(WC: 4.2k) DAMNNNNNN

Minor and ageless blogs DNI, I'm so serious.

Tomorrow was the day you and what’s left of your comrades would execute the final part of Eren’s plan and storm Marley. In your eyes, it was a death mission. You couldn’t see yourself making it out alive this time. Your fate was sealed. Tonight, you sit on the cool grass roughly half a mile from your base, chin resting on your knees allowing yourself a final night of peace.

You’ve been out here for a few hours, skin numb from the heavy winds when someone calls your name from behind you.

“What are you doing out here?” Jean.

If you were ever given the chance to love in this lifetime, you imagine you would love Jean. He’s the only person you could ever see yourself being intimate with. Whether it was your first kiss or virginity, you could only envision Jean.

You stopped feeling guilty for thinking of him when you touched yourself in the shower a long time ago. It’s not like he’d know you grip your cunt around your fingers imagining they were his.

“Is everything okay?” he asks following your silence.

“Just thinking.”

You see him sit beside you and stretch his legs from the corner of your eyes. “About what?”

If it were any other night, you would've stayed silent but tonight, you lost the energy to care. To you, your final days start the moment the sun rises.

“All the things I never got the chance to do,” you reply.

Jean was surprised to hear your response. He became used to your silence whenever he attempted to pick your brain. He didn’t show it. He wanted to see how much more you would let him know about after years of prying. For once, he decided to keep his mouth shut having you say whatever you wanted him to know on your own time.

“I never had my first kiss,” you admit after a minute of silence, turning your head to face Jean.

“Really?! You’re lying.” He doesn’t believe you. How could he have had his first kiss and not you? It didn’t make sense.

You give him a small, fake smile. “Never got the opportunity.”

The way he was looking at you made your legs ache. It’s a mix of disbelief and something more… passionate. His eyes slowly dilated the longer the silence between you continued. His mind was racing. If you never got the “opportunity” for your first kiss, does that mean you never got the opportunity for anything else? Has no one touched you? Have you ever touched yourself?

“And I-...” you start, trying to find a way to express how feel without making him uncomfortable. You give up, giving him an apology while turning your head away from him to face the other direction.

“I can’t die a virgin.”

Jean’s breath hitches. His questions were answered.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter.

“No! No,” he replies, his eyes still locked to your head. “I, I understand what you mean.”

You turn back to face him seeing that his iris’ have become completely black, consumed by the thought of your face on his pillow, fucking yourself on his cock and begging for him to do whatever he wants to you.

“Jean?”

“Mhm.” His eyes were still on yours making you unable to control the question that comes out of your mouth.

“If things were different, would you have fucked me?”

You didn’t feel embarrassed. You couldn’t seem to care.

Jean’s cock stiffened. He couldn’t do anything but nod. His eyes move to your thighs for a flash of a second. You were wearing a floral nightgown you bought at a Marlyian market long ago. He doesn’t believe what you’re wearing even qualifies as a “nightgown”. If he adjusted his position next to you by an inch, he’d be able to see your clothed cunt beneath the end of the fabric on full display. He would do it in a heartbeat if his semi-hard cock wouldn’t be visible to you if he moved.

He didn’t know you noticed his quick peak at your clamped thighs. You lift your head off of your knees, turning your body to face him and resting your thighs on the grass giving you a perfect angle to see his bulge. Unlike Jean, your gaze lingers between his legs, making sure he knows how badly you crave him.

You don’t know what came over you as your right hand drags its way to your aching pussy. grazing your clit with your middle finger. His gaze snaps to your hand, adjusting his posture to see past the ruffles of your “nightgown”, and slightly spreads his legs. You move your hand from your clothed clit to the side of Jean’s face, thumb brushing his cheekbone for a moment.

“Can I kiss–?” His lips latch onto yours, stealing the question from your mouth.

The kiss is desperate yet so gentle. Jean stops himself from bucking his hips in the air, his cock begging to be touched. He’s doing everything he can to not ruin your first kiss. You move your hand back to your clothed cunt, going back to the feather-like touches you gave your clit, mewling into his mouth.

You slowly release your mouth from his to lock eyes between his legs. “Touch yourself, Jean,” you command.

He doesn’t hesitate to do so, palming his throbbing cock through his thin, black lounge pants. You watch his bulge the size of your fist slowly grow. He moves his hand to give you a perfect view. It grew slightly in length whenever he lightly tugged his shaft with his fingers. You noticed how with every half an inch of growth, the width increased. You apply pressure to your clit, imagining how it would feel to fully take him.

Jean releases his now fully hard cock from the confines of his clothes, his hand immediately reaching for his tip. “Touch yourself,” he commands with a smirk, imitating you.

“I am.”

He fully sits up. His hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, his other hand reached for the top of your panties leaning in towards you, pointer finger and thumb pinching the seam. He uses his two fingers to pull the front of your panties down your hips, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth as a signal for you to arch your hips so he can free your pussy from its prison.

“There she is,” He whispers.

His cock twitches in his hand at the sight of your glistening cunt. He strokes himself slowly, dragging your panties completely down your legs, wraps it around his base, and continues to move his hand up and down his length. Your fingers touch your now bare clit tilting your head back with a strangled whine.

Jean bucks his hips into your panties. “No. I want you to fit as many fingers as you can in that pussy. Can you do that for me?”

You respond by brushing your hole with two of your fingers, making sure Jean can see you slowly push them inside of you. He mutters profanities, reaching his unoccupied hand to replace the one you had to your clit. You moan and rest back on your left elbow.

“Let me see you stretch yourself for my cock, baby.” Jean knows he’s fucking you tonight. He’s making sure of it.

He moves to sit directly next to you, removing his right hand and your panties from his throbbing cock and to your head, resting you on his shoulder. You close your eyes and halt your fingers knuckle deep inside you whining into his neck.

“Do I make you feel good?” he asks.

You nod into his shoulder.

He smirks, swiftly moving his body to hover above you, placing soft kisses down your body. His fingers arrive at your clit. Jean looks at you with his fully dilated eyes and lightly licks your clit. You arch your back, angling your pussy to his mouth.

He grabs your hips, laughing at you. His thumbs push your hips down, moving his hand down to grip your ass before engulfing your clit in his mouth. Your mouth widens in pleasure. His tongue escapes from his mouth, lapping your leaking juices back up to his mouth. You could feel that this wasn’t his first time eating pussy, and you couldn’t help but internally thank the girl he learned this from.

You cover your mouth to stifle your moans. A hand grabs your forearm. You look down to see Jean staring up at you, his eyes begging to hear your moans but refusing to get up from your cunt to use his words.

You remove your hand from your mouth and let your moans escape you. Jean’s hand returns underneath you to grip your ass, digging the tips of his fingers into the fat. Purposefully leaving bruises. Your fingers reach down to tug at his grown-out hair causing him to rut his hips into the ground. Pants barely protecting his shaft from contacting the grass beneath him.

You run your fingers through his tangled hair, getting good enough of a grip to remove his lips from yours with a pop. His mouth was shimmering in the moonlight from a mix of your juices and his saliva– beard completely drenched. His eyelids were heavy, staring into you as he mindlessly placed his lips back on your puffy cunt. You yank his head back up by his hair making him groan.

Your hands let go of the grip on his hair to hold his chin. “We can’t do this here,” you whisper to him.

He whines, slowly grinding his aching hips into the grass below him. “But we’re alone out here.”

“It’s not how I imagined it all going down,” you chuckle, moving your fingers softly down his neck.

“Please, baby. Please,” he begs, his hands reaching around your torso and under your nightgown to massage your tits. “I need you here. Now.”

“Then take me,” you moan, grinding on his chin. “Now.”

Jean’s eyes roll back and he groans. His hands grip your tits hard before moving his hands to your hips giving them the same grip. His lips latch back to your pussy, his tongue probing your entrance. You wrap your legs around his head in response. He slowly sits up on his knees lifting your hips in the process, muscles bulging through his tight, long-sleeved shirt– lips and tongue not parting from you.

His left-hand moves to the small of your back to lift and balance the lower half of your body on its own. His right grazes along your body wrapping his arm around your left thigh with a squeeze. His tongue moves from your hole back to your clit engulfing it with an open mouth kiss.

“Jean–,” Your whine is interrupted with a gasp as you feel his pointer and middle finger slowly enter you. Your walls clench around his fingers with a low moan.

You arch your back leaving your head to be the only part of your body left on the ground. His tongue slips from your clit as you grind it against his nose. He laughs at your desperation and lifts his head to return to his work on your sensitive bud.

You can feel yourself open more and more for him the deeper he enters. It stings, but you still feel the same ache in your ovaries from when Jean was devouring you. His fingers are thicker than yours, looking slender in contrast with the length. You can’t feel how dry and calloused they are. The texture was completely overpowered by your wetness. Yet, you’re so tight around them.

“You’re gripping my fingers, baby.” he babbles, kitten-licking your clit and slowly penetrating you. “I can barely move em’.”

You relax at his touch, feeling him move in and out of you with ease as he slowly lowers your chest back to the ground. He’s being so gentle now. Taking his time with you.

“You didn’t have to stop,” he says, licking a painfully slow stripe just above his fingers up to your hood.

“I’m sorry.”

He gives your clit a peck, “Don’t apologize.” He kisses his way up your abdomen, his arm softly wrapping his lips around your tit and sucking on it.

“Jean, please!” You whine, grinding against his hand.

He removes his swollen lips from your hardened nipple, mocking your whine as he kisses up your neck landing on your lips. His tongue makes its way into your mouth forcing you to taste the remnants of yourself. You feel his fingers increase their pace, his ring finger attempting to make its way inside of you. You loosen your legs from his lower half and spread them allowing him deeper access. However, your pussy refuses to unclench from the anticipation of the third digit.

Jean pulls his lips away from you, softly kissing down your neck to get you to relax. You do and he forces his finger inside of you with a groan. His fingers move at a moderate pace. He twists them with each deep thrust making you tear up and close your eyes from the painful stretching of your walls.

He doesn’t stop his fingers from twisting, he simply says he needs you to be able to “take all of him”. He doesn’t actually know if this will help you. He just likes the way your body writhes beneath him.

Your hands find their home in Jean’s hair tugging at the strands on his nape, the back of his head, brushing his hair behind his ear so you could place a sloppy kiss on his cheek on occasion. You feel your body moving back and forth.

You open your eyes and move your head to look in between you and Jean’s bodies. You see Jean humping his wrist. His tip peeks through the band of his pants. Cock begging for attention. You feel like you’re stretched enough for his cock to at least enter with little resistance. You move your right hand down his clothed back and abs landing at his hip. You slowly release his twitching, rouge-colored cock and run your fingers down his happy trail.

His body twitches and lays slightly on top of you. Left hand reaching for your tit.

“Holy fuck,” He moans.

You attempt to wrap your hand around the base of his shaft struggling to reach far enough.

“Please, Jean,” You beg.

“I don’t know if you’re ready yet.”

You run the tips of your fingers up his cock barely landing on his tip to spread his precum. His fingers fully halt inside of you. His breath stutters in your ear. His grip on your tit softens. His body freezes above you for what feels like a minute.

Jean lifts himself off of you and removes his fingers from inside of you completely. His hands remove his pants and reach behind his head to do the same with his shirt. His toned body was lit by the moon behind him. His face leans back down to your pussy, giving a soft peck to your hole before spitting on it.

Your moan is muffled by Jean’s sticky fingers. He shoves his digits deep into your mouth. You hesitantly wrap your lips around them as much as you can, running your tongue in between them to lap up every drop of you. Just like he did.

He smiled down at you as you struggled to wrap your lips fully around his fingers. The sounds coming from your mouth were sinful and it wasn’t even your fault. Your loud slurping was comical to him.

He moves his knees around your midsection. His fingers leave your mouth with a trail of your saliva dripping down your chin to stroke his cock above you. He arches his body above your head, his cock coming straight toward your face.

“Spit on it, baby,” he demands, petting your head with his unoccupied hand.

You stare at his cock unable to comprehend what he told you. You didn’t hear him call your name. Twice. You didn’t hear him laugh at you. You did see his tip come closer to your mouth, brushing against your parted lips.

You immediately widen your mouth with a groan like it was a reflex. Your lips wrap around his tip licking and sucking the rest of his precum. Jean’s hand on your head pushes you a bit further down his length. Just enough to get the first few inches wet with your saliva.

“I want you to spit on it, okay?” He asks you softly this time. His hand slowly pulling you off of his dick by your hair.

Your response is muffled around him causing him to moan with a chuckle, stopping himself from fully pulling you off of him. He stares into your eyes smiling as you suck on his tip.

“Yeah?” He mocks you. He repeats himself, and you nod with him still in your mouth. He leans his head back laughing at you. You feel embarrassed. He looks back down at you for a few seconds as you keep slowly sucking him, and tilts his head. “You sweet girl.”

He removes you from his tip with a pop. You poorly spit on his shaft. Your saliva dripped off of his tip. He laughs at you again, softly wiping the spit off your chin and mixing it with what you left on him. He strokes his cock and leans down to meet your lips in a gentle kiss. He backs up to your legs and spreads them so he can fit in between.

“Are you ready?” He asks you, his face meeting yours.

“Yes,” You reply, leaning up to kiss him.

He hums and deepens the kiss, aligning himself at your entrance. He uses his hand to help push himself inside of you. You pull away from his lips and hiss, wrapping your arms around Jean’s neck. You could feel your hymen being pierced by the width of his cock. Feeling your cunt slowly wrap around him.

“I’m sorry, baby,” He coos, groaning. “I’m sorry.”

“It hurts,” You whine.

“I know.” He kisses your temple and pushes himself in further. You yelp. Your nails pierce his back.

The pain you feel makes it seem like his whole length is nuzzled inside you, but you know at least half an inch is all he’s attempted to do. He shushes you, softly kissing your head telling you he heard from some of the guys that it hurts for girls at first. He watches your pussy as it tries to suck him in.

“I trust you,” You breathe out.

You feel his tip twitch and he pushes himself deeper. Too deep. His whole head is inside of you, taking your flower. You can do nothing else but scream. Jean whips his head from your pussy to your face, moving his hand from his shaft to your cheek.

“Are you okay?” He asks, panicking. “I’m so sorry. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

Your face is wet with your saliva from his cock. You feel humiliated. You just wanted the hard part of this experience to be over so you could be filled by his cock and his cum. But it hurt. You wanted to tell Jean it wasn’t his fault, but it kind of was. He was just too big.

“I’m okay, Jean,” You reply kissing his nose, tasting yourself on it. God. You feel dirty. But that’s how you want to feel. You want him to give you your last night of peace. You wanted him to bottom out for the first time, deep within you. You wanted to tell him to fuck you so hard your legs go numb, to do whatever he wants to you, to feel his cum drip down your legs and be soaked up by your suit tomorrow. The only thing you could say through your pain was, “Fill me.”

Jean groans just barely pulling himself out of you to thrust another half an inch within your gummy walls. He looks at you to see any indication of you wanting him to stop. He sees your eyes rolling back as tears form at your waterline. Jean leans in to kiss your undereye, pulling himself out even more, and thrusts an inch of himself inside of you with a breathy moan.

You can barely let out a whine. Your throat feels restricted by an unknown force. You feel your womb ache and it feels unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Jean moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck to bury you in his.

“I’m going to speed up,” He warns you. He pulls in and out of you at a slightly quicker pace. He holds himself back from pounding himself into your hips at you clenching around him. “Fuck. You’re so tight, baby. I can feel you sucking me in.”

You whimper into his neck, being overcome by a painful pleasure. You’re crying into his neck, but he’s almost completely inside you. He can feel you holding back your pain. He pulls you out of his neck and sees the tears streaming down your face. You stopped him before he could say anything.

“Fuck me however you want. I want you to–.”

Jean slams himself completely inside of you with a moan, “Oh, fuck. Oh… fuck.” He bottoms out inside you.

He pulls two inches out of you. A moan drags out of your mouth, head leaning back to rest against the grass, and your back arches. He slowly thrusts himself fully inside you again, groaning.

“Jean.”

He pulls half of his length out of you, thrusting halfway, pulling out more of himself, and thrusts himself fully inside of you. He speeds up his pace being fueled by your squeals beneath him. He’s fucking you now.

You can only feel pleasure as Jean fucks you. Unable to control your moans. You can feel him twitching inside of you.

“Are you close?” You ask him, hoping he will say no and tell you about his high libido.

“Y-yes. Fuck!”

You push his chest off of you making him still.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, his eyes bearing into yours.

“No, no,” You assure him. “I-I don’t want you to cum yet. I want to try something.”

He nods and apologizes. You reassure him and tell him to pull out of you so you can get on all fours and arch your back to him. His eyes widen at the sight. He grabs his cock, lining it back to your entrance, and slowly inches himself back inside of you. Fuck. Your hole stretched around him feeling that pain all over again. You bite your forearm to prevent you from screaming as he bottoms out again.

He grabs your hips, pulls out all the way, and thrusts into you, his balls slapping your clit making your chest fall further to the ground. He plunges himself into you at a rapid pace. The sound of skin smacking echoed through your dark surroundings. He leans down, pushing your hips down with him, ramming into you. You cry out in pleasure, whining beneath him. He uses one hand to push the arch of your back further into the ground and uses his other hand to do the same with your head. Your arms fall to the ground under you giving him deeper access inside of you, pushing himself against a spot that makes you wail.

“Yeah, you like that,” Jean moans your name. “You like my cock filling you up like this?”

You can’t seem to form words. He wraps the hand pushing your head down around your chin and turns you to face him.

“Answer me.” He demands.

“Yes, sir.”

Jean practically growls. He flips you over, cock still nuzzled deep within your walls. He grabs both of your ankles, rests them on his shoulders, and ruts into you. You’re dizzy. Your vision blurs at the force of which he’s fucking you. You feel pressure in your lower abdomen like something’s pressing down on it.

“Look at that,” You hear Jean huff. Your vision focuses on the face in front of you, seeing his eyes latched to your stomach. There was a long, wide bulge appearing and disappearing inside of your body. “Do you know what that is, sweet girl?” You could barely shake your head no. “It’s me.” He laughs.

You look at your stomach again seeing the bulge appear with his thrusts and you realize just how small you are in comparison to Jean. His height, his build, his strength, his length. It all overpowered you. A hand grabs your chin and pushes your face up. “Look at me when I cum in you, baby.”

You got lost in his eyes as he fucked you stupid. Your head falls back, still staring into his eyes. He laughs, again. Saying something you couldn’t hear. You were distracted by his taunting smile and your oncoming orgasm. Your hips begin to shake but Jean holds you down with his hands, bringing his lips to yours.

#jean kirstein #jean kirschstein #jean kirstein smut #jean kirschstein smut #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #aot #aot x reader #aot x reader smut #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader smut #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x reader smut #aot x you #aot x you smut #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x you smut #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschtien x you smut

264 notes · View notes

chrollohearttags · 9 months

Text

do you better, make it worse • j. kirschtein

watching his best friend mistreat you never sat right with Jean but luckily, he had plans to get your mind off of him once and for all.

content warning and themes: hospital AU, mentions of infidelity, EMT Jean, patient liaison reader, car sex, panty stuffing, hair pulling, choking, fingering, reverse cowgirl, daddy’s used a few times, calls reader slut (not in a derogatory way), squirting, full nelson, creampie

📝: in lieu of me bringing back one of my favorite stories, I’ve decided to once again put the cart before the horse (don’t say it) and revisit one of the dynamics in it. Besides, I’m on a heavy Jean kick lately so here we are.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

he couldn’t stand it….

honestly, he hated it. Hated the way you were treated, hated that you were being misled and hated that someone he called, not only his friend but thought of as a brother, was so casual and callus in hurting such a beautiful woman. Someone who made it her life’s mission to care and look out for others..advocate on their behalf and ensure that they were being cared for. Which was ironic at its finest degree, considering that for the three years (y/n) (l/n) dated Connie Springer; former high school basketball star turned paramedic, no one bothered to clue you in on the fact that he was being unfaithful. He was your very first love and granted, when you two graduated, the relationship seemed to grow. But as was his outside roster as well. While you were holding him down, helping him study and keeping him straight..all while doing your own thing, he was out doing you wrong. Laying up with this girl, texting that girl and having the nerve to come back to you as if everything were just fine. And being completely oblivious to his antics, you would’ve gone on with your business and not thought a thing of it..that all but changed when his best friend Jean came to you one day with a shocking confession and told you that your beloved boyfriend had been sleeping with other women. “This isn’t gonna be easy, (y/n). I’m sorry I kept this from you but I thought you should know.” Not only that, he had solid proof. Pictures, texts and everything…it was a devastating blow and you were riddled with all types of emotions. Anger, sadness, denial..this man had hurt you beyond comprehension and once you found out and confronted him, you let Connie know exactly how you felt. Then, you ended things. As hard as it was, you felt relief in knowing that you were no longer being made a fucking fool of. He was free to do as he pleased..it was no longer your problem.

even so, you were faced with another issue: loneliness. You stood firm in your boundaries and didn’t let Connie back in. Regardless of the fact that you two were now working for the same hospital and you’d see him often while walking the halls of the emergency room. Tending to patient’s non medical needs and getting feedback. In the time since you two split, you had grown prettier by the day; that beautiful dark skin glowing, curly hair getting thicker and so was that gorgeous body. Hitting the gym and gaining happy weight. Still, despite that. You longed for companionship. You wanted your person again and to be loved unconditionally. You wanted someone to take care of you…emotionally, spiritually and especially..physically. As terrible as it sounded, you needed someone to satisfy those carnal desires as well. Someone who would take that stress of a long day away and clear your head.

luckily, you had just the man for the job and in the form of a very familiar face. Someone who had all but saved you from further heartbreak and embarrassment. And now, he was going to help you once more…

“Did you miss me, baby? I missed you..”

“Yes..been thinking about you all day..”

while your ex pleaded and groveled for a second chance, you were sitting pretty in the backseat and lap of his best friend’s car..getting that wet little pussy stuffed full of his fingers! Those thick digits planted inside of your warmth as his tongue swirled the inside of your mouth..the two of you exchanging sloppy tongue kisses and saliva along the way. Another hand..one riddled with tattoos up to the forearm gently clutched your throat as to keep your eyes on him. Of course, you wouldn’t dare look elsewhere. Not when this fine ass man was treating you so well. Some would say that what you guys were doing was wrong or that he broke code between boys but he should’ve considered that while he was out with other women. Now, Jean was filling that void in more ways than one. For the past couple months, the two of you had been hooking up just like this and needless to say, once you got a taste of him, Connie was all but a mere afterthought..

instead, you couldn’t wait to get your fix of the man making out with you. Slowly, he’d work those fingers in and out of that tight little cunt..placing a trail of kisses along your earlobe and jawline, all while filling your head with sweet words. Telling you how pretty you looked and that you were gonna feel so good. That deep voice drops to a low whisper; causing you to clench around his knuckles. Hearing those sweet affirmations from a man who meant it was driving you crazy. “J-jean…baby. I—“ “it’s okay..I got you. Just keep riding those fingers, my love. Keep going, just like that.” All the while, he had snatched your top down to reveal those perky breasts of yours. Always sitting so pretty underneath your work uniform. It was many times when he thought about what you’d look like underneath and now, he was getting the chance. Even at his buddy’s expense!

“So fucking sexy…swear I couldn’t get you off of my mind. Thinking about holding you…kissing on this neck.” Just then, he’d tighten his grip on your throat and grunt in your ear; grinding that covered erect against your ass. “Filling you up. I just wanna make you feel good, baby. Hell of a lot better than he can...” Doting on you as he curled and pumped those digits around inside of you. He was like a feign, an addict for your love and sex. Jean would do whatever it took to ensure that you got off. Just by your moans alone, he knew you were close. He could sense it..that’s what it meant to awareness of your partner’s body. Something that Connie failed to grasp even after all that time of being together. He had done in three months what he couldn’t in three years. It was insane. However, as much as he desired to get you off, he had to get some action of his own! You could feel him growing larger by the second..practically swelling to be let out. Alas, he knew how much more well endowed he was in comparison to others you’d been with so he had to be gentle. Handle you with care as to not hurt you…but give you the pleasure you deserve. So with a swift motion, he’d unbuckle those black uniform cargos and shuffle them down his hips so that he had enough room to maneuver. Unsheathing that thick cock, he’d slap it against your half clothed, plump pussy lips; drumming up smacking noises as he had a finger hooked around your thong to keep them to the side. Your tits were exposed as well..the top part of your dress tugged down and bundled up around your tummy. He couldn’t wait to get a taste.

“Go ahead, pretty girl. Put it in for me..” instructing as he grasped your waist and allowed you to raise yourself up. Those heels that he loved so much digging gently into his seat and aiding you in eventually riding him. As (y/n) lowered yourself back down, both of you released loud, breathy moans. The sensation of your juicy warmth and the fullness provided by his thick girth..stretching you out only seconds in. “Fuck..so fucking good..” clutching the side of the door and the driver headrest to balance yourself as you bounced up and down. Jean knew you were more than capable of handling it so he’d toss his head back and encourage you with all of those filthy words you loved. “There you go. Up and down, just like that. You’re opening up for me so nice..that dick feel good, babygirl?” Questioning in a sweet cooing tone, which had you melting within seconds. The way this man so lovingly cared for your body, you couldn’t help but to submit.

“It’s so good, daddy…never had dick like this. Oh my fucking—ahh!”

drawing out in whiny huffs and soft whimpers along with wetness, that was dripping all down his shaft. Eventually, the vehicle would begin to gently sway in that parking garage from the force of your moving bodies. Clawing into that leather upholstery, (y/n) continued to bog yourself down, taking those deep thrusts to the brunt. “I know..I know it’s a lot, baby. But you’re taking that shit so good..got you creaming. This is my pussy now. Isn’t that right? All mine?” Earning him a very swift ‘yes’ as you trembled and took him to the hilt. Only after he grasped your throat because you were too stuck to even form words. His fingertips tracing soft circles around your clit and those balls slapping against your opening. “That’s what I love to hear, pretty girl. Just keep fucking me…keep—shit!” Drumming out more of those breathy cries from your new boyfriend and deeper thrusts as he began fucking up into you. All but taking the reins and control as the feeling intensified. Eventually, he couldn’t hold still and although he thought that you were doing an amazing job, he needed to really get in it. Clutching the backs of your thick thighs, Jean would proceed to fold your legs up and bring your knees nearly up to his shoulder blades. It was such an insane position but one that felt nearly euphoric. Whilst he made certain each stroke made home inside of your sensitive core, you’d take the thin strings of those panties between your teeth and bite down. Sort of a makeshift gag for your loud cries as he began to pound upward into you. He was coming unglued, like a man unhinged and on a mission. He wanted you to feel every last inch of him. How much he craved you..how much he loved you and this beautiful body. He’d never be so foolish as to squander such a precious thing. Even if he was beating your pussy sore like you were a mere object. “..my little slut..letting me fuck you like this. I’m so thankful, baby. You're gonna come f’r me, right? Come all over this dick? Right here in this fucking car? You couldn’t even wait until I got you to my place. That’s how addicted I got you..” and there was no denying it! When you slung pipe like him, you had every right to brag on it. Regardless, he himself was desperate to release so he’d do whatever it took to coax you to your orgasm so he could reach his. He never allowed himself to come first because he wanted you to get off. Bringing a hand back to that swollen bud, Jean massaged it until you emitted muffled, distorted cries with that cloth tucked between your teeth. Your eyes flush and drip with slight tears from how full he had stuffed you. In a matter of minutes, porcelain colored cream had covered the entirety of his shaft and base, signaling that you were on the brink of reaching your peak. Calling out to him, Jean was quick to turn your head and quell those whispers with gentle kisses and soft caressing to the cheek. “It’s okay..hey, breathe with me, baby. Remember what I told you..” by now, he had hooked your legs into one arm and continued bucking his hips upward. You were both beginning to tap out..reach that final stride and it was only seconds after he patted your slit with gentle slaps did you begin to throb and he knew he couldn’t get another one in before you all but pushed him out so reluctantly, Jean would halt his movements.

“Go ahead, pretty girl. Squirt on this dick..we’ll worry about the seats later. Fuck it.” Smirking as he watched your eye stretch and mouth gape as that slippery orgasm came barreling out of you; soaking everything within your vicinity. He was so satisfied in himself for completely wrecking you. Getting that body so hooked on him, you wouldn’t look back or around for another man ever again. Not even giving you ample time to recuperate, he’d penetrate that tightness once more, so that he could give you what you had been begging him for all week:

“Come in me..come in this fucking pussy, daddy..” Talking him through it as well with gritted teeth and tears rolling down your face. “Want me to nut in it, baby? Veins began to bulge from atop his forehead and Jean was breathing so heavily, eventually letting out a loud cry before spilling every last drop of that seed into your womb. Not stopping for an entire minute and remaining stuck between those walls many moments after. He wanted to enjoy you…be one for as long as possible. Tugging you back against his heaving chest, Jean snaked his tongue between your lips and fed you sloppy pecks before the two of you erupted into a soft chuckle against each other’s mouth. “I love you, Jean. I love you so much..” so proudly declaring as you ran your fingertips along his stubble ridden face. And there was no doubt in your mind that he felt the same. After all, it was him who showed you what that four letter word meant again after facing such heartbreak. But as long as you’d allow him to remain in your life…to care for you with all he had…

“I love you more, pretty girl. Don’t ever forget it.”

he’d make you the happiest woman alive. Even if it meant hurting his best friend to do so! Just then, your love fest was interrupted by a faint buzzing on the heated seats. That’s when you’d both look down to see your phone illuminating with a very familiar contact:

Connie: I miss you (y/n)..please call me. I’m sorry.

but needless to say, he wouldn’t be getting a reply any time soon.

545 notes · View notes

blondieeu · 16 days

Text

next to you. jean k.

jean kirschten worships your body through kisses.

everytime he gets the chance to he kisses every spot on your body that he can get his hands on.

you’d think it was a sexual thing when you first hear about it but it’s not always like that.

jean kisses and rubs your feet, while you lay together to watch some new marvel movie that just came out. he does it because he remembers you saying the other day the heels you wore hurt your feet.

“do they feel better? can’t have my baby hurt on the job.”

jean kisses your shoulders when you drop your heavier bag and take your coat off, he knows how stiff they can get.

jean treats his kisses like they’re a healing ointment that only works on you. he values your time and how well you take care of yourself.

so whenever he catches you throwing on those heels that hurt you more than they look good he buys you a new pair. maybe they’re not he exact same ones and don’t look identical but they still match the same when you put on the same outfit, and they feel better to you.

or when he sees you with that god awful tote you force yourself to wear because it has the space you need for your work items he gives you the bag he originally bought for your birthday.

“take it. looks like you need it now girl”

or on a more romantic note, jean kisses down your stomach when he’s starting foreplay. doesn’t matter if it’s just a quickie or he’s making real love to you, he always does it because he knows how it gets you going.

he kisses your forehead before he leaves your shared apartment and when he comes back he kisses your lips because of how much he liked the lipstick you wore. or maybe he noticed the small frown you had on your face because your day hasn’t been that good.

blondieeu xx

139 notes · View notes

4izawas · 1 year

Text

𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘. | 𝐉. 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍.

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

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

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

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He dreams of Sasha often.

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

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

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

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

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

Then there are the nights he dreams of Eren.

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

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

God. Marco.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A secret?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jean didn’t push it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He felt himself a coward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happily.

She was gone by dawn the next morning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then comes his newest problem.

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

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

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

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

And now Gerolf was gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one seems to know what to say.

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N was gone.

Gerolf was gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

766 notes · View notes