#jeanxreader

❥ levi ackerman

❥ porco galliard

❥ connie springer

❥ eren jaeger

❥ jean kirstein

divider creds : @cursed-carmine

The words cut through the night, smooth and unhurried, and you can't help but turn toward the sound.

Jean's sauntering over from the stables with that tired, satisfied slouch of a man who's spent the whole day working the land.

His button-up shirt, a faded denim blue, clings to his toned chest, the fabric stretched just enough to hint at the muscle beneath. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing forearms corded with strength and dusted with golden tan. His jeans are smeared with dirt and worn from hard work, but it's the way his Wranglers hug his legs, all snug over his thighs and hips, that really holds your attention. The hint of sweat at his collarbone only adds to the rugged, effortless appeal that's been driving you crazy for months.

He gives your dad a polite nod, murmurs something low you can't quite catch, but it's the way his gaze sweeps over the group before landing on you that makes your breath catch.

Instead of joining the group, he settles himself on a log just outside the main circle, far enough away to keep his distance but close enough to watch everything. You can't help but notice the way he stretches his legs out, leaning back on his hands like he's trying to take up as much space as possible. He's too damn comfortable for his own good. Or maybe yours.

A little liquid courage burns warm in your veins. It's enough to push you to your feet and make your way over, cheeks flushed more from nerves than the heat.

"You finally decided to join us," you say, sinking down beside him on the log. Close enough for your knee to brush his. Close enough to see the glint of curiosity that flares in his gaze.

"Couldn't leave you all to have fun without me," he drawls, voice like gravel dipped in honey. "Figured I'd at least get a drink out of it."

"Well, you've missed most of the beer, but there's whiskey left. If you can handle it." You tilt your head, watching his expression shift—half-amused, half-challenged.

"Oh, I can handle a lot more than whiskey, darlin'."

The words settle low in your stomach, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, searching for a hint of teasing. Jean's gaze doesn't waver, and there's a spark of something dangerous in it. Something that tells you this might be the night you've been waiting for.

From the way his gaze lingers a little too long on your mouth, you think he's been waiting for it, too.

You're not sure if it's the whiskey or the way Jean's gaze feels like it's burning straight through you, but you don't look away. Instead, you let the corners of your mouth curve up, just enough to hint that you're playing along.

"Guess you'll have to prove it," you say lightly, tossing the challenge back at him.

Jean huffs a laugh, low and rough, but his eyes are locked on yours like you've got his full attention. Around you, the others are wrapped up in their own conversations, their voices drifting like background music. Nothing but noise.

Wordlessly, you hold out your whiskey bottle, the glass cool against your palm. His gaze flickers to it, then back to you, something curious and hungry sparking in his eyes.

He takes the bottle from your hand, his fingers brushing yours for just a second before he lifts it to his mouth. His throat works as he takes a long, slow swig, the motion somehow just as captivating as the way his eyes never leaves yours.

"Smooth," he says, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, his eyes still on you. "Not bad. But I think you're the one who's got something to prove."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"That you can keep up."

The words are casual, but the glint in his eye is anything but. And damn if you're not ready to rise to the challenge.

"Think you've got me figured out, huh?" you say, voice low enough that only he can hear. You lean in just a little, the warmth of the fire mixing with the heat radiating off him.

"Maybe," he says, his drawl thickening like he's letting his guard slip, bit by bit. "Maybe not. But I reckon I'm startin' to."

He looks at you like he's daring you to push him further. Like he's hoping you will.

You reach for the bottle still in his hand and take a swig. It burns down your throat, but you barely feel it over your pulse thudding hot and heavy beneath your skin.

"Maybe I'll let you figure me out then." The words fall easy from your lips, but they hang there between you, challenging him to do something about them.

Jean's smile is a slow, wicked thing. "Careful now, darlin'. A line like that might get you into trouble."

"Maybe I like trouble."

And there it is—the truth you've been dancing around for months now, finally laid bare between the crackle of the fire and the low hum of voices just feet away. You can feel the shift between you, something that leaves your mouth dry and your skin buzzing.

Jean glances up at the other's, a quick, instinctual check to make sure nobody's paying attention. The others are lost in their own worlds, oblivious to the game you and Jean are playing.

His hand drops to your knee, casual enough to look innocent if someone happens to glance over, but the weight of it feels anything but. His thumb traces a slow, lazy circle over your jeans, like he's testing the waters.

"Still feelin' brave?" he murmurs, his voice pitched low and dangerous.

"I guess that depends," you breathe. "Are you finally going to do something about it?"

Jean's eyes darken, his fingers tightening just slightly against your leg. "Maybe we oughta take a little walk. Unless you're too chicken to be alone with me."

You're on your feet before he's even finished talking.

"Come on, cowboy," you toss over your shoulder, catching the flicker of surprise in his gaze before it turns into something more eager. "Let's see if you can keep up."

You lead him away from the bonfire, his footsteps crunching softly over the dry grass as you wind your way toward the edge of the property. The glow of the fire shrinks to a faint orange flicker behind you, the noise and laughter fading to nothing but a distant hum.

Your destination is one of the old barns, a relic left to weather and rot, mostly forgotten and unused. You know the ranch hands sneak off here sometimes when they want to drink in peace or play cards out of your dad's watchful eye — and tonight, it's exactly the kind of quiet, out-of-the-way spot you're looking for.

One of Jean's hands finds the small of your back, his touch light but steady, guiding you along like he's already made up his mind about how this night is going to end. The warmth of his fingers against you sends a shiver straight through your skin, anticipation curling hot and restless in your belly.

When you slip inside of the barn, the night's suddenly quieter, the air cooler, and the only sound you can hear is Jean's steady, deliberate breathing. And your own, a little faster now.

"Looks like I've got you alone, after all." he says, his voice a low rumble that curls down your spine.

You lean back against the rough wooden planks, cool against your flushed skin, and Jean's standing just a breath away, eyes locked on yours with a look that's almost predatory. Not harsh—more like he's savoring this moment, drawing it out just to watch you squirm.

"You sure you know what you're askin' for, darlin'?" he murmurs, his voice as smooth as the whiskey still lingering on your tongue. "Because once I start, I'm not gonna be easy to stop."

"Who said I wanted you to stop?" you fire back, but your voice trembles just enough to make his grin widen. That slow, knowing smile of his sends another rush of heat rolling through you.

"Bold. I like that." His hand rises, knuckles grazing your cheek with a touch so gentle it feels almost reverent. But there's nothing innocent about the way his thumb skims over your bottom lip, dragging it down just enough to make your breath catch. "Been thinkin' about this, you know. About you."

The confession steals your words, leaves you staring at him like you're trying to read every filthy little thought he's had about you. Because God, you've had more than a few about him.

"Funny," you manage, your voice softer now. "I've been thinking about you, too."

He hums, like he's pleased with your honesty. "Then I guess we're done with all that thinkin', huh?"

Before you can answer, his mouth is on yours. Not rough, not desperate. Just thorough. Like he's been dying to take his time with you and he's damn well going to enjoy every second.

His lips are warm and teasing, coaxing rather than demanding, and it makes your head swim. Your fingers tangle in his shirt, pulling him closer until his body presses against yours, solid and unyielding. The smell of leather, sweat, and something distinctly Jean fills your senses, leaves you feeling heady and reckless.

He kisses you until your knees feel weak, until you're arching up against him just to get a little more. And when he finally pulls back, you're both breathing harder, the space between you gone but still not enough.

"Just like I thought," he says, his voice roughened by desire. "You taste even better than you look."

The compliment makes heat flare in your belly, but it's his hands that really do you in. One slips around your waist, tugging your hips against his. The other wanders lower, fingers tracing the waistband of your jeans with a touch that's far too casual for what it's doing to you.

"Been wonderin' what you'd feel like," he continues, his breath hot against your ear. "How sweet you'd sound when I finally got my hands on you."

You swallow hard, your pulse thrumming in your throat. "Guess you should find out, then."

He chuckles, the sound rich and pleased. "Guess I should."

His hand slips beneath your tank top, calloused fingers gliding over bare skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You gasp at the contact, and his mouth is right there again, swallowing the sound with another slow, devastating kiss.

His hands slide up, taking the hem of your shirt with them, his touch firm but unhurried. He breaks the kiss just long enough to tug the tank top over your head and toss it aside, leaving you standing there in jeans and bra.

"Damn," Jean breathes, his gaze raking over you with such blatant appreciation it leaves your skin burning. His hands find your waist, then slide up to your ribs, his thumbs brushing along the underside of your breasts like he's testing your reaction. "You're fuckin' gorgeous, you know that?"

You barely have time to catch your breath before his mouth is back on you, lips tracing down your neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. He trails kisses lower, his mouth finding the tops of your breasts, his hands sliding up to cup them through your bra.

"Been wantin' to get my hands on you like this for so damn long," he admits, his voice muffled against your skin. "Feels even better than I thought it would."

His thumbs drag over your nipples, slow and deliberate, the friction just enough to make you whimper. The wicked smirk that curves his lips says he knows exactly what he's doing. And when he tugs the cups of your bra down, baring you completely, his mouth is on you in an instant.

"Jean—" His name spills from your lips as his tongue flicks over one nipple, then the other, his mouth hot and greedy as he sucks and nips, alternating between gentle and rough until your chest is heaving and your nails are scraping over his shoulders.

"Sweet as honey," he rasps, his lips brushing over the curve of your breast before his mouth crashes back to yours, all heat and hunger. His hands roam over your body like he's trying to memorize every inch of you, fingers tracing over your bare skin and leaving sparks of pleasure in their wake.

"Been dreamin' about this," he murmurs against your mouth, his voice thick and low. "Touchin' you. Takin' my time with you."

He palms your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples with that same slow, teasing precision that's got your breath stuttering. The way he watches you, like he's savoring every little reaction, has your pulse pounding even harder.

"God, Jean," you gasp, your back arching as his mouth dips lower again, teeth grazing over sensitive skin before he soothes it with his tongue.

"Easy now," he says with a crooked grin, his breath warm against your chest. "Ain't no need to rush. I'm plannin' on enjoyin' this."

His mouth stays right where it is, trailing over the soft skin of your breasts with maddening precision. His lips brush over the curve of one, then the other, his tongue flicking over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth with a slow, deliberate pull.

You whimper, your back arching into him, and Jean's hands tighten on your hips, steadying you as he keeps working you over with that same, unhurried determination. His thumbs continue to tease your nipples, rolling them between his fingers until pleasure curls low and hot in your belly.

"God, you're sensitive," he murmurs, his voice thick and hungry as his mouth moves from one breast to the other, paying each equal, devastating attention. "Could stay right here all night."

His hands never stop moving, fingers tracing down your sides, over the curve of your hips, and back up again to cup your breasts like he can't get enough of touching you. The way he's looking at you, like he's memorizing every little reaction, has your head spinning.

"Jean, please..." you manage, your voice wrecked and pleading.

"Patience, darlin'," he drawls, though his own voice sounds strained. "I wanna take my time with you."

Even as he says it, his hands start drifting lower, fingers trailing down your stomach before finding the button of your jeans and popping it open with a casual ease that leaves your breath hitching.

"Still feelin' brave?" he asks, the challenge clear in his voice.

"Brave enough to make you hurry up," you bite back, even if your voice is embarrassingly shaky.

Jean just chuckles. A low, delicious rumble that makes your stomach twist. "Now, now. Patience." His fingers hook in the waistband of your jeans, dragging them down just enough to make you shiver. "Good things come to those who wait."

You can feel his smile against your neck, that teasing confidence of his like a dare you're desperate to take. And when his hand finally slips between your thighs, his touch firm and knowing, you nearly lose your damn mind.

"Yeah," he drawls, his voice thick and low as your body arches into his touch. "Just as soft as I thought. So damn perfect."

Jean's fingers work between your thighs with a skill that leaves you trembling. He's not just touching you—he's learning you, testing what makes you gasp, what makes your hips twitch against his hand like you're trying to get closer, trying to pull him deeper.

"Easy there," he chuckles, voice thick and honey-smooth. "Didn't think you'd be this needy already. What's got you so worked up, darlin'? Just me?"

You bite your lip, trying to smother a whimper as his fingers press more insistently against you, slipping beneath the fabric with a confidence that leaves your head spinning. "You're such an ass," you manage, but the breathlessness of your voice ruins the bite.

"Maybe," he murmurs, lips brushing your ear as his fingers find the wet heat waiting for him. "But you like me like this, don't you?"

Your only answer is a strangled moan when he slides one finger along your slick cunt, the teasing touch driving you out of your mind. He's grinning—damn him—because he knows exactly what he's doing.

"God, you're already so wet," he says, like it's the best compliment he could ever give you. "All for me?"

"Jean..." His name is a plea, low and desperate, and he clearly loves the way it sounds falling from your lips.

"Shh, I got you," he soothes, his voice all honeyed drawl and dangerous intent. "Just let me take my time, darlin'. Been thinkin' about this for too damn long to rush it."

You want to argue, to tell him that if he drags this out any longer, you're going to lose your mind. But then he's sliding a finger inside you, slow and deliberate, and every coherent thought scatters like leaves in the wind.

"Fuck," you gasp, your back arching against the barn wall. The rough wood scrapes against your shoulders, but you can barely feel it over the way Jean's touch makes your whole body thrum.

"Just like that," he murmurs, his eyes locked on your face like he's cataloging every little reaction. "You feel so damn good. You know that?"

"Jean—"

"Yeah, darlin'?" His voice is all smug satisfaction, his thumb circling over your clit with just enough pressure to make your knees go weak.

"You're—" The words stick in your throat when he adds a second finger, stretching you with that same slow, relentless thoroughness that's making you crazy. "You're such a tease."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling against your neck where his lips are grazing over your skin. "Maybe. But from the way you're fallin' apart on my hand, I'd say you don't mind too much."

He's not wrong. You can't even pretend to argue when he starts pumping his fingers in and out, each stroke sending ripples of pleasure curling through your body. His thumb never stops its lazy, devastating circles, and it's enough to have you grinding your hips against his hand, chasing the friction he's giving so generously.

"Look at you," he whispers, his voice gone rougher now, strained like he's barely holding himself back. "So damn pretty when you're like this. Could watch you fall apart all night."

You're already on the edge, trembling and panting, his words only making it worse. Better. Both.

"Jean, please—"

Your voice is nothing but a broken plea, and Jean's eyes flick up to meet yours, that wicked smirk spreading over his lips.

"Could listen to you beg all night," he murmurs, but then he's sinking to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady.

Before you can catch your breath, his mouth is on you, his tongue gliding over your slick folds with a hunger that leaves your head spinning. The first hot, greedy swipe over your clit has your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard enough to drag a groan from his throat.

The vibration only makes the pleasure coil tighter, your hips jerking against his face as he works you over with that same maddening precision. His tongue circles your clit, flicking and sucking until your thighs are trembling around his head.

"Fuck, Jean—" you gasp, your voice wrecked and desperate.

His fingers keep pumping into you, slow and relentless, matching the rhythm of his mouth as his tongue plays with your clit, teasing and stroking until you're damn near sobbing.

"Look at you," he growls between kisses, his voice thick and smug. "Fallin' apart on my tongue. Tastes even better than I imagined."

You can't think, can't even breathe properly. All you can do is cling to him, your nails scraping over his scalp as he drags you closer and closer to that breaking point.

Your fingers stay buried in his hair, tugging every time his tongue circles your clit just right. And judging by the low, greedy sounds rumbling from his throat, he fucking loves it.

"Shit," you gasp, your voice splintered and breathless. "So fucking good."

He groans against you, the vibration sending another shock of pleasure straight through your core. His fingers curl inside you, finding that perfect spot that has your hips jerking forward, your knees damn near giving out.

"Yeah, that's it," he murmurs, his voice thick and wrecked between his filthy kisses. "Knew you'd be sweet, but fuck—you're somethin' else."

His tongue drags over your clit again, flicking and sucking in a way that's downright obscene. His pace picks up, his fingers pumping into you harder now, matching the desperate rhythm of his mouth. It's relentless, overwhelming, and exactly what you need.

Your body's already coiling tight, every nerve stretched to the breaking point. The sounds you're making are shameless, echoing in the quiet night air, but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when he's dragging you closer and closer to the edge.

"Jean, I—fuck, I'm gonna—"

"Do it," he growls, his breath hot and desperate against your cunt. "Come for me, darlin'."

His mouth seals over your clit, his fingers driving into you with just the right amount of roughness, and that's all it takes. Pleasure crashes through you, ripping a ragged cry from your throat as your body clenches tight around his fingers. Your thighs tremble around his head, your fingers tugging hard at his hair, but Jean doesn't let up.

He keeps working you through it, his mouth and hands dragging every last drop of pleasure out of you until you're nothing but a shaking, breathless mess slumped against the barn wall.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice a low, satisfied rumble as he finally pulls back. His chin's glistening, eyes dark and hungry as he looks up at you. "Fuckin' beautiful."

He rises to his feet slowly, his body pressing against yours again, and his mouth crashes over yours in a kiss that's all heat and desperation. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and somehow, it only makes you want him more.

A broken whimper slips from your throat, the sound raw and needy, and Jean's eyes darken like he can feel your desperation pouring off you.

"What do you need, darlin'?" he murmurs, his voice low and taunting, like he's enjoying drawing this out just to watch you squirm.

"I need you," you gasp, your fingers clutching at his shoulders like you can't stand another second of waiting. "Inside me. Now."

His eyes flash with hunger, his smirk turning wicked. "Good girl."

His fingers slide free of you, and he's already pushing your jeans and underwear down your legs, his hands trembling just enough to make you smirk. He kneels to tug off your boots one at a time, his touch almost careful before he sets them aside. Then your jeans and underwear are gone in one swift motion, and he tosses them on top of your boots without a second thought.

"Who's the needy one now?" you manage, voice all ragged edges.

"Maybe I've been a little desperate myself," he admits, his voice gruff as he yanks his belt open. "Thinkin' about this. About you."

Your hands slide up his chest, fingers tracing the lines of muscle through his shirt before reaching for the buttons. You fumble with them, a little too eager, but Jean just smirks, his hands dropping to your waist to give you space to work.

"You're killin' me here," he mutters, but he doesn't stop you. Just watches, eyes hooded and hungry, as you work each button free, exposing more of his sun-bronzed skin. You push the fabric off his shoulders, letting it slide down his arms, and your hands are back on him before the shirt even hits the ground.

His skin is warm under your palms, firm and a little rough from days spent working under the sun. You trail your fingers down his stomach, tracing the faint line of hair that disappears beneath his waistband. Jean hisses a breath through his teeth, his hips giving a little twitch against yours.

"Goddamn," he breathes, and that's all the warning you get before he's shoving his jeans and briefs low enough to free his cock, thick and already aching.

You reach for him, wrapping your hand around him and giving a slow, deliberate stroke that makes his breath stutter.

"Fuck, darlin'," he groans, eyes fluttering shut for half a second before they're back on you, burning hot. "If you keep doin' that, I ain't gonna last."

"Then you better hurry up, cowboy."

A strained, breathless sound escapes him, but there's a flicker of hesitation tangled up with all that hunger. "Shit. Just one problem, darlin'. I ain't got a condom on me."

The admission sends a jolt of surprise through you, but it only makes your pulse pound harder.

"I don't care," you say, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. "I need you. Now."

"Fuck," Jean breathes, his voice gone rough and desperate. "You sure?"

"Yes." Your fingers curl into his bare shoulders, your eyes locked on his. "Please."

A shaky breath leaves him, his gaze burning as he reaches down to grab his discarded shirt from the dirt. Without a word, he drapes it over your shoulders, the worn fabric shielding your back from the rough wood.

"Can't have you gettin' all scraped up, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice still rough and wrecked. "Ain't lettin' some splinters ruin this."

Before you can even respond, his hands are on you, grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up against the barn wall with a strength that leaves you gasping. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, the heat of his body pressing into yours as his gaze locks on yours.

"You ready for me?" he asks, and there's a softness beneath the heat—like he needs to be sure.

"Yes," you breathe.

He pushes into you slowly, inch by torturous inch, like he's savoring the feeling of you stretching around him. And the stretch burns in the best way, your body clinging to him, desperate to take him deeper.

"Goddamn," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. "You feel so fuckin' good."

You clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in as he starts to move, pulling back only to thrust in again, a little harder this time.

The worn fabric of his shirt presses between your skin and the barn wall, but all you can feel is him—filling you, dragging pleasure out of you until you're panting against his neck.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice breaking on a groan when you clench around him. "Take me, gorgeous. Just like that."

He starts a steady rhythm, his hips rolling into yours with a precision that leaves you gasping, the pleasure building sharp and heavy in your core. And just when you think you might break apart, he adjusts his angle, hitting something inside you that sends a shockwave of heat tearing through your veins.

"Jean, fuck—"

"Yeah?" His voice is all gravel and honey, and you can tell he's barely holding on himself. "Fuck, darlin'."

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, your fingers digging into his shoulders, clinging to him as his rhythm drives you higher and higher. The world's narrowed down to just this—his hands gripping your thighs, his body pressing you into the wall, the way he fills you so perfectly you feel like you might shatter.

"That's it," he rasps, his breath hot against your neck. "Just like that. Take me. You feel so fuckin' good, you know that?"

His words send another rush of heat through you, your body clenching tight around him as you chase that burning, aching pleasure building inside you. Jean's pace stutters for a second, a choked groan spilling from his lips when he feels you clench around him.

"Shit—don't do that or I'm gonna—"

"Then do it," you gasp, your own pleasure teetering on the edge. "Fuck. Don't stop, Jean."

The way you say his name does something to him. You see it in the way his jaw clenches, his eyes squeezing shut for a split second before his thrusts turn rougher, harder, driving into you with a desperation that leaves you reeling.

You're so close it's maddening, your whole body tensing, every nerve set on fire as he hits that perfect spot over and over again.

"Come on, beautiful," he growls, his voice all rough desperation. "Need to feel you cum on my cock. Fuck, you're squeezin' me so good—drivin' me outta my damn mind."

Then the pleasure slams into you, your release crashing over you in a wave so powerful your vision whites out for a second.

"Jean—" The cry tears from your throat, half his name, half a broken sob of pleasure as your body spasms around him. The intensity of your orgasm leaves you trembling, your walls clenching tight around his cock in a way that makes him groan, his hips faltering for just a moment before he finds his rhythm again.

"Fuck, darlin'," he rasps, his voice wrecked and filthy as he keeps driving into you, dragging out every last bit of your pleasure. "Takin' me so damn well. So fuckin' good—watching you come apart like this."

He leans in, his mouth brushing hot against your ear, his words nothing but a rough, breathless whisper. "You feel so goddamn good. Makin' me lose my fuckin' mind."

He's still fucking you, his thrusts steady and unrelenting, his breathing ragged as he chases the pleasure building between you. His hands grip your hips like he can't get enough, like he's determined to push you over the edge all over again.

"Hey! Jean, you out here?"

The voice snaps through the haze like ice water to the face.

Connie. One of your dad's other ranch hands. One of Jean's best friends.

Fuck.

Panic surges through you, but Jean's body is still pressed tight against yours, his cock still buried deep as his head jerks up, eyes wide with shock.

"Shit," Jean mutters under his breath, his gaze darting to the corner of the barn where the footsteps are approaching. "Connie, uh—now's not really a good time, man."

There's a beat of silence, like maybe Connie's about to turn around and walk away. Instead, you hear him laugh. "What the hell are you talkin' about? Just needed to—"

Connie's voice cuts off as he rounds the corner and sees you both. His eyes go wide, his mouth hanging open like he's just been hit over the head with a shovel.

"Oh. Oh, shit."

You can feel the heat flood your face, embarrassment slamming into you even harder than the lingering pleasure. But Jean's body stays braced against yours, his arms tightening instinctively around you, almost like he's making sure you're covered—even if he's still very  much inside you.

"Fucking christ, Connie, ever heard of givin' a man some damn privacy?" Jean snaps, though there's still a hitch in his voice, like his body hasn't fully recovered from what just happened.

"I—shit, sorry, man, I didn't—" Connie's stumbling over his words, eyes flickering between your flustered face and the way Jean's body is still pressed tight against yours. His throat works as he swallows, and you can practically see the moment his shock turns into something else.

"Well... fuck. Didn't expect to walk in on you two like this," Connie says, voice lowering, his gaze dragging over the two of you with a curiosity that borders on fascination. And maybe something even dirtier. "Guess I was interruptin' somethin' real good, huh?"

"Just—turn around and walk away, asshole," Jean growls, but his tone lacks its usual sharpness. Probably because he's still buried deep inside you, his own arousal clearly not fading as quickly as it should be.

Connie doesn't move. Instead, he leans against the barn wall, eyes glinting with something you can't quite place. "Didn't know you had it in you, Jean. Or you, for that matter," he adds, his gaze flicking to you, and the way his attention lingers on your half-bare body sends a shiver through you.

It should feel humiliating. And it does, a little. But there's something else there, too. Something that makes your skin prickle and your thighs clench around Jean's hips.

"Come on, man," Jean snaps, his voice rough. "Ain't you got better things to do?"

Connie's smirk is downright filthy now as he crosses his arms over his chest, settling in like he's got all the time in the world. "Maybe. But hell, I wasn't expectin' a show when I came out here." His gaze drops, and his tongue flicks over his lower lip. "Sure looks like you two were havin' a good time."

"Connie..." Jean's voice holds a warning, but you can feel the way his body reacts against yours, that slight twitch of his cock still buried inside you.

Connie notices it, too. His eyes gleam, his curiosity turning wicked. "Huh. Guess you're not quite done, are you?"

Your own breath catches at the implication, your body traitorously heating up all over again. Jean's gaze flicks back to you, searching your face like he's trying to gauge your reaction.

"Sorry, darlin'," he mutters, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'll get him to leave if you want me to. Just say the word."

The way his hips are still pressing into yours, his cock still twitching inside you, tells you he's not entirely against the idea of Connie watching — and to your surprise, neither are you.

Connie's eyes haven't left the two of you, his gaze trailing over where Jean's hips are still locked against yours, his cock still buried deep inside you. The weight of Connie's attention is almost unbearable, your skin prickling with heat as you cling to Jean's shoulders.

"Connie, I swear to God..." Jean growls, but the way his voice shakes just makes Connie's smirk widen.

"Relax, man. I ain't tryin' to jump in or nothin'." Connie's voice is lazy, low, like he's settling in to enjoy the view. "But fuck, you two are really somethin'. Never would've guessed you'd be out here fuckin' against the barn like a couple'a animals."

His words send a rush of embarrassment through you, but it's tangled up with something dirtier, something that makes your body clench around Jean in a way that leaves him groaning.

"Shit—" Jean hisses, his fingers tightening on your hips. "You like that, huh?" he breathes, his eyes searching your face. "Him watchin' us like this?"

You should be horrified. Mortified. But the way Jean's voice turns ragged when he realizes just how much this is turning you on is almost as thrilling as the fact that Connie's still standing there, openly staring.

"I—" Your voice breaks when Jean rolls his hips against yours, grinding deep enough to make your breath hitch. "Jean, please."

"Please, what?" His teasing drawl is back, but now it's threaded with hunger, his gaze flicking over your shoulder to where Connie's still watching. "You wanna put on a show for him, darlin'? Let him see how good I make you feel?"

"Fuck," Connie mutters from behind Jean, and the roughness of his voice makes you realize just how affected he is. "This is so fucked up..."

He doesn't leave. No, he stays rooted in place, his eyes devouring every filthy detail of you and Jean tangled together. And when you dare to glance over Jean's shoulder, your gaze locks on the way Connie's hand has drifted to the front of his jeans, palming himself through the fabric.

The sight sends a fresh rush of heat flooding your veins, your pulse thudding so loudly you're sure they can both hear it. From the way Jean's breathing speeds up, his hips pressing harder against yours, you know he's more than aware of what's happening.

"Guess you're not as shy as you act, huh?" Jean rasps, his mouth brushing over your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin in a way that leaves you shivering. "Gettin' all hot and bothered just knowin' he's watchin' us?"

"Jean..." It's not even a real word anymore, just a broken, pleading sound as he starts moving again, his cock dragging slow and deep inside you, like he's determined to make this last even with Connie's attention burning over you both.

"Damn," Connie murmurs, his voice gone hoarse.

You catch a glimpse of him, eyes hooded and dark, his hand now shoved down the front of his jeans. His arm moves in a slow, steady rhythm, matching the lazy roll of Jean's hips as he fucks into you with that same teasing intensity.

"You like that?" Jean asks, his voice nothing but gravel and heat.

"Knowing he's gettin' off to the way I'm fuckin' you?"

You can't even pretend to deny it, your body tightening around him in a way that has him groaning, his hips jerking against yours. And from the way Connie's eyes widen, you can tell he noticed it, too.

"Fuck, Jean..." you gasp, nails raking over his shoulders as he drives into you harder now, like he's giving in to the filthiness of it all. Like he wants Connie to see exactly how well he's ruining you.

"Yeah, that's it," Jean growls, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that's all teeth and heat, his hips pistoning into you now with a force that leaves you whimpering. "Show him how good you take me. How much you love this."

You can barely breathe, every thrust dragging another broken sound from your throat as Jean fucks you against the barn like he's desperate to leave you a wrecked, trembling mess. And the worst part? Knowing Connie's standing there, stroking himself to the sight of it.

"Oh, fuck—" Connie groans, his hand moving faster, his eyes glued to the place where Jean's body keeps slamming into yours. "You two... fuck, that's hot."

The filthy praise sends a fresh jolt of arousal straight through you, and Jean must feel it, because his thrusts turn even rougher, his rhythm crumbling into something frantic and punishing.

"Gonna come for me again, darlin'?" Jean rasps, his voice cracking under the strain of holding himself together. "Let him watch you come all over my cock."

Somehow, the idea of it—of coming with Connie watching, knowing he's jerking himself off to the sight—has you spiraling over the edge before you can even brace yourself. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your whole body convulsing around Jean's cock as you choke out a desperate, shattered moan.

"Goddamn," Connie chokes out, and when you manage to drag your gaze back to him, you see him shudder, his hand jerking hard and fast as he watches you fall apart. The way his jaw clenches, his eyes squeezing shut—it's obvious he's coming, spilling into his own hand with a broken, muffled groan.

The sight is so filthy it almost sends you tumbling over the edge all over again. And from the sound Jean makes—half-growl, half-whimper—you know he's just as affected. His thrusts turn frantic, his hips slamming into yours like he's barely holding himself together.

"Fuck—darlin'," he rasps, his voice splintered and wrecked. "Where do you want me? Tell me where you want me to cum."

The question tears through you, sending a fresh wave of heat crashing over your already trembling body. His desperation is painted all over his face, eyes locked on yours like your answer is the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

"Inside me," you gasp, your own voice shaking. "I want you to cum inside me."

Jean's jaw clenches, a ragged groan ripping from his throat as he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep with a guttural, desperate sound. His head falls into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and uneven against your skin as his whole body trembles through the force of his release.

For a moment, everything's hazy. All you can feel is Jean's chest heaving against yours, the heat of his breath still fanning over your neck, and the sticky, shameful satisfaction of knowing Connie got off to the sight of you both.

"Fuck..." Connie finally breathes, his voice ragged. "Didn't mean to interrupt, but... damn."

You can't even bring yourself to answer, your limbs still trembling as Jean slowly pulls out of you, his eyes locked on your face like he's making sure you're okay.

"Shit," Jean mutters, a breathless, dazed grin tugging at his lips.

Jean's arms are still braced around you, his breathing heavy and uneven as his forehead presses against yours. His eyes search your face with a softness that feels almost surreal after everything you just did.

"You good, darlin'?" he murmurs, his voice still rough from the pleasure he's only just come down from.

"Yeah," you whisper back, a breathless, giddy laugh bubbling out of you. "Better than good."

"Good." His lips brush over yours, a gentle, lazy kiss that feels worlds away from the desperate way he was fucking you just moments ago. "Wasn't exactly plannin' on givin' the poor bastard a free show, though."

You snicker, your legs still trembling as you lower them from around his waist, your feet unsteady on the ground. "I dunno. He didn't seem too mad about it."

"Yeah, no shit." Jean huffs a laugh, glancing over his shoulder to where Connie's wiping his hand off on a rag he pulled from his back pocket. The bastard's smirking, his gaze still shamelessly lingering over the two of you.

"Well, damn. Gotta say, you two sure know how to put on a hell of a show," Connie drawls, his grin pure, unfiltered mischief. "Wasn't expectin' my night to end like this, but I sure as hell ain't complainin'."

Jean's groan is more exasperated than anything else. "Connie, you got five seconds to fuck off before I start throwin' punches."

Connie raises his hands, but the grin never leaves his face. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone."

He turns to walk away, but pauses just before disappearing around the corner. His gaze flicks between you and Jean, his eyes gleaming with shameless curiosity and that signature cocky swagger.

"Just sayin'," Connie calls over his shoulder, voice all easy confidence. "Maybe next time, send me an invite?"

Jean's shoulders tense, his eyes narrowing as he growls, "Get lost, Connie."

Connie's laugh echoes through the night, carefree and completely unbothered as he strolls back toward the bonfire, leaving you and Jean standing there in the cooling darkness.

"Fucking bastard," Jean mutters, though his lips are twitching like he's fighting back a smile.

"You really think he meant that?" you ask, breathless and still a little dazed.

Jean's hands find your hips again, pulling you closer as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "Don't care," he says. "Ain't nobody touchin' you but me."

The possessiveness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, the heat stirring low in your belly all over again.

"Good," you say, your voice softer now, the lingering thrill making you grin. "Because I wasn't exactly planning on letting anyone else."

He smiles then, full and genuine, his gaze warm as he looks at you. "Guess we better head back before someone else comes lookin'."

"Yeah." You're both a mess, your clothes still tangled and your skin still buzzing with the aftershocks. But for once, you don't care.

Because the way Jean's looking at you? It's more than worth the risk.

"We did do this to him?" Annie's eyes squint in confusion. 

None of what you and Bertholdt had said made sense. Why would you calling from here change anything? You guys were helping him, right? There's no way that they could blame you for this... right? 

"We'll just call them from a payphone or something. We can't risk it," "Those still exist?" Reiner whispers in confusion  "Come on I know a back door we can use,"

"Oh my gosh, we killed Marco," "We didn't kill Marco!" "I'm pretty sure we did," "Annie!" "What it's true,"

You pace around your room. This whole night was giving you a headache. "Okay... he should be fine though. I mean we called help for him so he should be fine... Right?" you looked towards Bertholdt for reassurance but he couldn't even meet your eyes, opting to chew on his fingernail instead. "Hey kids you doing alright?" your mom peaks in through the door. "We're fine ma. Why are you still out of bed?"

"I am?" 

You sigh and guide her back into her bed. 

The kitchen tap drips as you walk back. The sound seemed to make you more agitated the longer you heard it. Like the sound of his blood that trailed off the steps. You pause as the sound continues.

Drip,

Drip,

Drip,

You stumble and catch yourself on the wall. Tonight's events slowly rewinding and replaying, almost as though you were in a black and white film.

Maybe you should have stayed with him until the ambulance arrived... You could've told them that he slipped from the floor wax. But how would you explain your being there? "I left my homework in my locker," that could've worked right? Regret floods your gut. It felt as though it was clawing its way out through your skin. You shake it off and calm yourself before continuing your walk. 

You have to be their shield. 

If you lose it your group's whole resolve will break. You needed to be strong. For them...

Drip...

Drip...

Drip...

You return to your room and it seems more tense than when you left it initially. Words clearly shared whilst you were gone. "Guys we'll be fine. We didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't on purpose okay? So let's just go to bed and deal with it tomorrow."

Annie mumbles something discouraging under her breath and you glare at her from your bed as she got comfortable next to you. Reiner and Berthold laying as stiff as boards on the blow-up mattress' you set up earlier for them. 

"Everything will be fine guys, i swear" 

And with that, the bedside lamp went off. Leaving you all to bask in the darkness and your thoughts.

DRIP...

DRIP...

DRIP...

“Historia,” You grunt out to her, “Move over really quick.” She lets out a tired grown in acknowledgement, her body rolling over a few inches. Finding an extra pillow of the many that crowd Historia’s bed beside you, you throw it as hard as you can despite your painful hangover, hitting Ymir right on the side of her face.

She moves to sit up and sends you a glare as she threatens, “I’m seriously going to kill you.”

You roll your eyes and plop back down on the comfortable sheets, “Please do, my hangover is insane.” How you got so drunk was a mystery to you. Granted, you had a few cups of Connie’s punch and a few shots, but that certainly wasn’t enough to get you this hungover. You were still very aware of what had happened last night, especially the interaction you had with your lab partner right before being (thankfully) dragged away from the conversation. Now that you’re (somewhat) sober, the events and information that you learned last night was beginning to set in. Since when was Jean part of AOT? And how did you not know until now? You weren’t best friends with AOT like Sasha is, but you certainly were acquainted with who you thought was every member of the frat. Your interaction with Jean last night definitely confirmed what you thought of his character, he was a piece of shit.

“We really shouldn’t have kept drinking when we got back.” You hear Historia’s quiet, muffled voice from her spot on the floor.

“We drank more when we got here?” You ask, not remembering a second of this.

“Yes,” Ymir groans, “I was ready to pass out but you and Historia teamed up together to keep drinking so I went out and got us some alcohol. You guys are so annoying when you team up together, shit.” You snicker at this, not surprised that Ymir couldn’t say no to the both of you.

“Can we go get something to eat? I need something greasy.” Historia pleads.

You shoot back up at this, “Oh my gosh, please. Let’s go to Miche’s. They have the best hangover food.”

You and Historia turn to Ymir, your expectant gazes pleading her with your eyes. Ymir’s eyes switch between the pair of you both before she lets out a sigh and a roll of her eyes, “Fuck, fine. I guess I’ll drive.”

After eating your insanely greasy yet delicious breakfast burger, you said goodbye to Ymir and Historia as they dropped you off back at your own apartment so you could get ready for your BioChem lecture class happening in just a few hours. Walking up the three obnoxiously long flights of stairs, you finally arrive to your apartment door exhausted. I’m too hungover for this. Opening the door, you were surprised to hear commotion in the kitchen, assuming Sasha stayed over at the frat last night as she always does. “Sasha?” You call out. It was uncommon for Sasha to be home after a party, usually spending the night wherever the party was or at AOT’s frat house.

“Yeah! We’re in the kitchen.” You hear Sasha call back, followed by the sound of clashing pots and pans. You inwardly cringe, not only from the loud noise making your head pound from your hangover, but also from the fact that your new pots and pans were problem bent somehow. So, you cautiously made your way to the kitchen to see what your roommate was cooking up this time with Connie. What you weren’t prepared for, however, was the sight of your very own lab partner at your island counter sitting in your island stools.

Jean’s eyes widen as they meet yours before a shit-eating grin blooms on his face and he lets out a laugh. You immediately scowl, your face contouring into a face showing only annoyance. What the fuck is he doing in my apartment? You’re too hungover for this still, your head is pounding and you’re insanely dehydrated. Donning Ymir’s shirt and Historia’s shorts with your hair up in a very messy bun and your BioChem lecture happening in only under an hour, you really don’t have time to process any of this.

“Oh! My bad, I forgot to tell you. We decided to come back here last night. There were people having fun in Connie’s and Jean’s rooms last night so we didn’t have anywhere to crash.” You turn your attention to Sasha as she explains to you from her spot by the stove.

“Don’t worry about it.” You reassure her.

“Oops! Sorry! Forgive my manners, this is Jean. He’s part of AOT too.” Sasha explains to you, a smile found on her face.

Turning your attention back to Jean, he gives you another dumb smirk before he says, “Nice to meet you.”

You roll her eyes at him, “Shut it. We already know each other, we’re lab partners for BioChem.” You explain to Sasha and Connie, who stands beside Sasha at the stove. Immediately, their gazes find each other as they let out a fit of laughs at this newfound news.

“No way! Jean, Y/N’s your lab partner?” Connie asks him incredulously, his eyes wide and his head pushed slightly outward towards your lab partner in excitement.

Jean rolls his eyes at his friend’s overreaction. He opens his mouth to respond before you interrupt him, “Huh? What are you guys talking about?” You ask Sasha and Connie

“Jean’s been going on and on about you, Y/N.” Sasha explains. You were surprised by that and curious as to what he had to say about you. He probably said something about how much of a bitch I am, that little shit. “He kept talking about how much of a bitch you are! Which isn’t true, I hope you know that. But he honestly hasn’t shut up about it, his ego’s like seriously wounded, good job Y/N. Usually Jean’s all ‘Nothing bothers me’ or-“

“Or ‘look at me, I’m so cool.” Connie finishes for Sasha.

“Yeah! Yeah!” Sasha all but screams excitedly as Connie continues to mock Jean.

“Okay, we get it.” Jean cuts them both off with a scowl and a roll of his eyes.

You really weren’t surprised that Jean was talking shit about you. Granted it hurt a little, but you weren’t such a big fan of him anyway. “Yeah, whatever. I have a class soon, so I’ll talk to you guys later.” You tell them before turning and making your way to your bedroom just down the hallway.

“Okay! Feel free to have some food, Y/N. Connie’s making a tater tot pancake!” You hear Sasha calling out to you and honestly, you were kind of intrigued.

You had stepped into your lecture hall alone, finding Jean had left your apartment before you were finished getting ready for lecture. Not that you wanted to walk with him to lecture anyway. You claimed a perfect seat right in the center area of the lecture room, not wanting a seat too close to the front or a seat too close to the back, something easy and inconspicuous. Other than meeting your quirky yet fun Professor Hange, your first BioChem lecture was quick and easy as your professor went through the syllabus with you and your classmates. You were going over the ‘Academic Dishonesty’ section of the syllabus and was about to pass out when you got a text.

[Sasha] We’re going out tonight

[Y/N] It’s literally Tuesday and we went out last night, chill

[Connie] Okay and? AOT got invited to a new high-end club tonight but we gotta bring as many ladies as possible. So your hot ass has to come

[Y/N] Me and my “hot ass” aren’t going anywhere. I’m still hungover, I can’t handle another night out right now

[Connie] Drinks are free all night for the frat and our guests

[Y/N] I’m in

So here you are, back at your apartment at 9 in the evening getting ready to go out to the new high-end club in town. You were dressed up a little more than you usually would be to go out to a bar or a frat party, needing to look the part that you actually belong in a club as nice as this one. Wearing your tight mini dress and a pair of simple heels, you honestly felt hot as hell. The dress hugged your curves generously and the hem of the dress rising a little too close to the bottom of your ass (deliciously, of course). After putting on your jewelry, you were busy working on your makeup in your shared bathroom when Sasha waltzes in.

“Shit, Y/N, you look good. Your ass looks great.” She comments as she finds her way next to you.

Scooting over to allow her some room for the mirror, you answer her, “Thank you, I know. You look fantastic as always.” You compliment her outfit as she dons a similar dress to yours, a short and tight mini dress but in a deep plum color.

“Of course.” She responds. “I wanna apologize for this morning, by the way, if Connie and I made you uncomfortable.”

You shook your head and met her eyes already trained on yours in the mirror. “Of course you guys didn’t, don’t worry about it, really.” You assure her. You really did love Sasha and enjoy being one of her best friends, and vise versa. Although she could be a lot at times, she’s always a fun time and truly cares about every person that enters her life.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” She somewhat warns you, a playful hint to her voice. You roll your eyes at her in response, a small smile finding its way onto your face. “So tell me, what do you think of Jean?”

You snort at the question, “What do you mean ‘what do you think of Jean’?”

“Connie and I know what Jean thinks of you, we’re just curious how you feel about him. We like to know everything about everyone.”

“Oh, I know. And I like to hear about everything you find out. But honestly? He’s a piece of shit. One of the rudest people I’ve ever met.”

Sasha nods her head at your answer understandingly, “Yeah, I get that. It takes a while for people to warm up to him.” She explains to you. After a moment of hesitation, she blurts out, “By the way, he’s joining us tonight.”

Your eyes shoot up to meet Sasha’s once again but her eyes refuse to meet yours as she’s busying herself with finishing up her makeup. “You’re kidding.” Maybe you should’ve prepared for this, seeing as he is a member of AOT and best friends with Sasha and Connie, but in your defense, you’ve never seen him at a party before last night so why would you expect him to go to tonight’s outing?

“He’s also DD tonight.”

“Sasha!” You yell at her as you turn to lightly slap her arm in annoyance.

Your wide eyes meet her own wide eyes, “I’m sorry!”

“I’m gonna Uber.” You state as you turn back towards the bathroom counter and start to clean up the mess you made.

“No! Y/N, this night is supposed to be completely free! It’ll be fine, I’ll sit with you in the back! Plus, you’re too broke for an Uber.” Sasha points out.

You contemplated your choices. On one hand, you can just pay for an Uber and avoid him the whole night or, you could just suck it up and be around him for the 20 minute car ride and then avoid him for the rest of the night. “I seriously hate you. Whatever, when’s he getting here?” You ask her as you make your way out of the shared bathroom and into the hallway.

“He just pulled up with Connie!” Sasha yells her response to your retreating figure.

“Fuck.”

You and Sasha had finished getting ready and made your way downstairs just a few minutes after Jean and Connie had arrived. The two of you had just stepped out of your apartment building and into the cool autumn air when you see, what you assume to be, Jean’s black car waiting just opposite of the entrance to your building. The passenger window rolls down and Connie’s head pops out, a big grin spread across his face. He lets out a loud wolf whistle after seeing you and Sasha before he says, “Lookin’ good ladies!” Followed by an excited laugh.

Sasha follows his lead and screams back, “Yeah! Let’s party!” Followed by more of Connie’s cackles.

After following Sasha into the backseat of Jean’s car, Connie turns around from his spot in the passenger seat in front of you, “Damn, Y/N! You look good! A lot better than what we saw this morning.”

“Shut up, Connie.” You warn him just as Jean pulls away from the front of your apartment building

Sasha lets out a laugh, “Oh please. Don’t flirt with her, you’re just gonna embarrass yourself again. All stuttering and shit.” Sasha implying the first time that you ever met Connie when he attempted (and failed miserably) to flirt with you.

“Chill, Sasha. We don’t have to bring up old news.” Connie retorts, a small scowl etched onto his face.

Sasha lets out a gasp at this, something seemingly important popping into her head. “Speaking of old news, Y/N, what’s up with you and Eren?”

You turn your head to look at her, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean? And how does whatever Eren has to do with me ‘old news’?”

“Dude,” Connie butts in, “He’s been trying to get into your pants since freshman year. How have you not noticed?”

You let out a laugh in disbelief, “No way! Eren’s just my friend, isn’t he into Mikasa, anyway?” You ask.

Sasha scoffs and rolls her eyes, “Oh, for sure. But he’s in denial. They’ve been best friends since they were kids, I think he’s just too scared to start anything with her or whatever.”

“C’mon, Y/N.” Connie nudges you with his elbow, his eyebrows raising up and down suggestively, “You can finally get out of this dry spell you’re having. Get some dick, girl! You can finally stop being bitchy, some dick will do you good.”

Your mouth drops at that, “I am not bitchy and I am not in a dry spell. I just don’t want to have sex right now! I’m too busy for that.”

Sasha cocks her head at your words, “Too busy for sex? Who’s too busy for sex? Y/N, you’re hot and single, take advantage of it before you’re all old and wrinkly.” Her nose scrunches at the thought.

“Yeah! Eren’s literally ready and willing to get his dick wet by you, go get ‘em!” Connie encourages your non-existent relationship with Eren further. Granted, the thought kind of excited you. You didn’t want to admit it aloud, but you were in a dry spell. Having not had sex for a few weeks because of summer vacation ending and the fall semester starting, you really wanted some dick. Maybe even needed some. Eren wasn’t a bad choice either, he was good looking and a great friend, maybe you could work something out with him.

“Eren’s willing to get his dick wet by anyone, don’t let his attention get to your head. You’re not special or anything.” Jean speaks for the first time this night, interrupting your thoughts. Your eyes immediately snap to the back of his head while his are still trained on the road ahead of him. Ouch.

“Wow, what a mood killer.” You hear Connie mutter from his seat next to Jean as he turns his attention forward.

You finally turn your attention back to the side to look at your own window after a paused moment, realizing your glaring at the back of Jean’s head is doing nothing for you, only to see that Jean had pulled up the curb outside of the club. You didn’t want his unwarranted comment to ruin your night before it even began.

“No way!” Connie exclaims, “There’s valet parking too? This place is nice!”

“It is,” Jean agrees as everyone steps out of his car, “So don’t fuck this up for us, alright?”

“Dude, when have I ever fucked anything up for us?” Connie counters. Jean gives him a pointed look as the four of you begin your way to the front doors, passing by the incredibly long entrance line that wraps around the building and deeper into the block. Connie rolls his eyes, “Fine, whatever. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

The four of you were able to pass the entrance line and walk right into the club. “I didn’t know AOT was this… influential?” You leaned over and whispered to Sasha. The club was super nice, definitely out of your college-student league of dirty bars and frat parties. Neon lights were the first thing you noticed, the obscene amount of lights blinding you first thing. Then, you notice how impressive the club actually is. It was two stories, the second story consisting of a balcony full of lounge chairs and couches. There were also two bars, one on each end of the first. The most impressive thing, however, was the giant fountain sat right in the middle of the room, the water descending from the ceiling, through the opening of the second floor, and down to the first floor with the light-up dancefloor surrounding the fountain’s base. Connie better not fuck this up.

“Pfft, I didn’t either. Who would’ve thought.” Sasha mumbles back at your question, her gaze also set on observing the club before her. “Ooh! The bar, lets go.” Sasha easily distracts herself and excitedly grabs your arm and steers you the bar sitting on the right wall of the club.

It was safe to say that after a montage of free sake bombs and cocktails, you were feeling good. You and Sasha had been drinking with each other ever since you guys made it into the club, needing that, as Sasha says it, “liquid courage” to get laid tonight. However, instead of the alcohol effecting you the way you wanted it to, you find yourself just wanting to have fun instead of searching for a guy to hook up with.

“Sasha!” You slur, your hand reaches our and grabs onto her arm, shaking it slightly in an attempt to get her attention.

“Hmm?” She responds, her head lulling to the side and her eyes meeting yours.

“I wanna dance! Let’s go dance.” You urge her.

“No,” Sasha groans, “I’m so bloated. Go dance without me.”

“I can’t leave you alone, though. That would be so shitty of me.” You retort. You bring your gaze out to the rest of the club in an attempt to find someone you can drop Sasha off with, because you really wanted to dance right now. You spot Connie just a few feet down the bar where he seems to be chatting up a girl who’s not really giving him the time of day, pass. So, your lookout continues. Turning your gaze now to the few lounge areas that are spread throughout the first floor, finding Marco sat on a couch alone sipping on a beer, perfect. “Sasha, go keep Marco company.”

“Where’s Connie? I gotta tell him something.” Sasha slurs back, her head moving back and forth from one side of the club to the other in search of her best friend.

“He’s busy-“

Sasha’s gasp interrupted you, “He’s talking to a girl! I gotta see that.” Releasing her arm from your grasp, she begins her way to where Connie and the girl he’s chatting up are sat at the bar, “Don’t worry about me, have fun!” Sasha calls out to you, giving you a very enthusiastic wave.

Honestly, you were too drunk to be concerned about how Sasha was about to ruin Connie’s potential hook-up plans. Plus, you just really wanted to dance. So, you set off to find an empty spot on the dance floor. It was crowded with couples and groups, but you managed to find an empty spot big enough for yourself. Drunk both on liquor and the music, you found yourself lost in the baseline of the sensual yet upbeat music, your eyes closing and your body moving and swaying on its own with a content smile occupying your lips. Your eyes remained closed, your drunk mind and body enjoying the beat of the music, and only opened when the beat changed to a new song. You were surprised, however, when you opened your eyes and met a pair of familiar brown ones already set on your own. Sat alone at the bar with a drink in his hands, Jean continues to hold your gaze, unfazed at the meeting of your eyes. A rush of adrenaline washed over you as you realize that he had most likely been paying attention to you, watching you dance and it doesn’t seem like he’ll stop. Granted, you won’t stop either. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but you didn’t care that he was watching you. A sense of pride and confidence was coursing through your body, remembering what he had said in the car. “You’re not special or anything.” Not special? You question him internally. Then why are you watching me? You refused to look away, your gaze unwavering and continuing to hold his stare as you dance to the beat of the music. Jean takes a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours, before he sets his drink down on the bar and gives you a singular eyebrow raise, amusement written all over his face. Honestly, you were enjoying his attention, something you would never admit out loud. Maybe it was because you know he doesn’t like you and when his attention is set on you, whether it be with annoyance or whatever the fuck is going on right now, you felt in control, the one in charge. Just as quickly as his eyebrow rises, it falls and his amusement is replaced with annoyance. You are about to question why until your thoughts are distracted by a nose running up along your neck and a pair of arms encircling your waist, their hands resting on your hips. You felt their body close in on yours, their front just centimeters away from meeting your back. Jean’s hard gaze strays for the first time since meeting yours to run down your body, stopping for a few moments at your neck where the person’s nose is running along, and then continuing their path until he finds the hands resting on your hips, before snapping up to meet your eyes again. You felt yourself freeze, your body ceasing its rhythmic movement to the music. The hands on your hips encourage you to keep moving, guiding you into a slow grinding against his front. Your eyes never leave Jean’s, even as his leave your own to move south, watching as your hips grind against those behind you, his jaw set tight.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” The voice says from behind you, his lips having moved from your neck and now sitting very close to your ear.

Immediately, the tension you shared with Jean across the way vanished. You let out a hesitated chuckle, “Eren. I didn’t even know you were here.”

He gives you a hum in response, not wanting to say anymore. You continue to dance with him, your hips speeding up to match the beat of the song. Finally, your eyes left Jean’s, who continued to watch you and Eren dance. You felt yourself getting looser, enjoying your drunkenness, the song, and dancing with Eren. Maybe you would be down to work something out with him, having a sexual relationship beating having to find stranger after stranger every weekend. Your eyes close, focusing on the beat of the music and the feeling of Eren’s hips against yours. You reach your hands up and behind you to rest on Eren’s neck, your fingers playing with the hair sitting at his nape. Eren’s nose runs down your neck as he lets out a light grunt as you slightly pull his hair. You began to push your hips back into his own as his began to move your hips faster. You were quickly getting lost in the arousal that formed between the two of you when you were oh-so rudely interrupted by a hand circling around your arm and pulling you away from Eren. Your eyes shoot open to meet Jean’s and your eyes widen in surprise, his face just a few inches away from yours. His eyes look back at you, his gaze hard yet you were unable to pinpoint an exact emotion he was feeling.

“Dude!” You could hear Eren exclaim from behind you yet you made no effort to move away from Jean.

“Connie got kicked out, we’re leaving.” Is all Jean says, his hand still gripping your arm.

“I can take Y/N home, chill out.” Eren argues.

Jean’s eyes meet yours again, an expectant look meeting yours. He wants you to say something. You wanted to stay, though. You were having fun with Eren and are so close to getting laid tonight. There was one problem, though, you didn’t have your key. Knowing drunk Sasha, she won’t be waking up until 5pm tomorrow despite her having classes to attend.

You turn and give Eren an apologetic look, “Sorry, Sasha has our key.”

“Just stay with me tonight, I’ll give you some clothes for class tomorrow.”

At that, Jean lets out a scoff and pulls you with him towards the exit of the club. “She’s not staying with you, dude.”