"Oh Jean," Mikasa giggled. "You are so cool and your muscles are so big. I would be ever so pleased if I could touch them while you flexed like the cool strong man you are."
Jean rubbed at the manly stubble on his square jaw and gave a magnanimous smile. He flexed his bicep, ripping his shirt into shreds in the process, and Mikasa cooed at the display of his coolness. Armin clung to his other bicep, eyes shimmering and round like something that is round and blue, really blue.
"Oh Jean," Armin giggled. "With your big muscles and manly coolness we can kill all the titans. And then we will live in a big castle that is big enough to hold your big muscles."
A breeze fluttered in through the windows, ruffling the curtains, ruffling the front of Jean's shirt so it opened and showed his firmly sculpted chest with a fine dusting of manly hair. Armin and Mikasa sighed and swooned onto Jean's chest in a flutter of silken skirts, and he held them so they didn't fall because he was a very nice guy even though he was so very cool with so many muscles.
"My darling sugar pies," Jean rumbled in the deep baritone voice that he'd totally get once he was done with puberty, he was sure of it. He flexed at them tenderly. "I have had a full day of punching all the titans so hard that it goes through their head and hits their neck and they explode and die. Shall we adjourn to the boudoir and have many hours of passionate dinky-touching?"
Armin and Mikasa raised their heads from his chest. But it was Eren's face, Eren's voice that shrieked at him from two mouths at once, something incoherent about titans.
Jean stared at the ceiling of the barracks, trying to catch his breath and calm his heartbeat. His dick was still hard. Jean grumbled and rolled to his side, reaching his hand beneath the sheets.
It was workable, he guessed.