show off - eren jaeger x afab!reader x jean kirschstein, 18+!!
something wild and wicked came over me while considering the dynamics of the erejean threesome, and i realized we all deserve to see the incident that started it all. this is the official part 2/prequel to three's a... and it is very very fun and tasty. i feel like i haven't been posting as much, so i am super excited to get this up. i hope you guys enjoy as much as i did writing it :) it's also from eren's pov which you guys know i adore
pairing: jean kirschstein x reader, eren jaeger x reader, a lil bit of eren x jean tension but nothing physical
wc: 6.2k
DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.
CWs: swearing, smut, threesome, implied internalized homophobia??? (literally just like, a pinch. eren has a "no homo" moment at the end lol), oral sex (male receiving), pet names (slut, brat, bitch, baby, princess), eren's a bit of a hard dom in this one, degradation, humiliation, penetrative vaginal sex, thick tension between eren and jean, eren's a menace
enjoy :)
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Eren should be mad.
Eren should absolutely be mad, waking earlier than normal and padding into his kitchen, finding this scene waiting for him. You, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a stringy thong and leaning over the counter enough to make that fact exceedingly obvious, and Jean, his roommate and friend since high school, shirtless and smirking, flirting over coffee. When he announces his presence, the shame and surprise on both of your faces is evident enough to confirm his suspicions; there’s definitely something building between the two of you, and whether it be a harmless crush or more, it’s there. Eren should be mad.
He’s just…not.
Despite his constant struggles to bite back his temper, especially when it comes to you, Eren surprises himself by the pointed lack of red in his vision. The heat’s still there, though; something coils in his chest that reminds him of anger, has the same flavor and the same spark, but none of the pulsing rhythm is there. Only something slow and catching, simmering in the pit of his stomach.
You come over again that night, winding up snuggled into his bare chest and intensely concentrating on the newest episode of Game of Thrones that Eren’s been dying to watch, but can’t bring himself to pay attention to. The image of this morning, you and Jean leaning into each other and smiling conspiratorially over whatever conversation had been struck up, is burned into his brain. And he’s still not mad.
“Do you want to fuck Jean?” Eren doesn’t parse his words; he’s no good with them anyway, and he’s a straight-to-the-point person as it stands.
“What?” You shoot up off his chest, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed accusingly at him. “What gave you that idea?”
Eren’s not buying it, though; there’s a little flush rising to your cheeks, and it betrays you. Not only do you flirt with Jean when Eren’s not watching, but you do want to fuck him. And Eren’s just not mad.
“You two were flirting in the kitchen this morning– I saw you,” Eren snorts when you try to interrupt him in protest, “and it’s not like we both haven’t known about Jean’s little crush on you for the last couple months.”
“We’re friendly,” you shrug, looking down into your lap guiltily, “we’re trying to be friends.”
“Well you’re both doing a damn good job of it,” Eren rolls his eyes.
“I’m sorry if I made you mad, I wasn’t trying to be flirty with him, I just–”
“Want to fuck him,” Eren finishes for you, carefully watching your reaction. You scowl at him, irritated, but your heart’s not in it, he can tell.
“Why are you so stuck on this idea of me wanting to sleep with Jean? I’m sorry if I went a little too far in the kitchen earlier, but that doesn’t mean I want to fuck him.”
“You keep bringing up this threesome idea,” Eren strikes right where he knows your mind’s already headed, “is it because of Jean? Is he the guy you want us to fuck?”
“You said you’d never do that,” you bite into your lip, suddenly so embarrassed. Eren’s overcome with a sudden urge to comfort you, to smooth the crease between your eyebrows and tell you that it’s okay. It confuses him, and he knows he can’t do that without betraying whatever…odd feelings are brewing in his stomach at the idea of you and Jean together, of you Jean and Eren together.
“Is it Jean?”
“It’s not Jean,” you huff, crossing your arms like a petulant child.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not–”
“I mean, if it was going to happen, I’d rather it be Jean than some fucking rando.”
Eren’s caught you off guard, and he can tell. Your mouth hangs open a little, trying to mouth the words that you want to say, but nothing comes out. The flush on your face grows deeper, and Eren wants to kiss you. He’s always loved this about you, that you’re so filthy deep down, but you get so shy about telling him what you really want.
“W-why is that?”
“At least he’s our friend,” Eren shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant despite the bulge that’s already starting to grow in his pants at the thought, “he wouldn’t cross any lines or pull out any crazy shit on us.”
“I guess so.” You’ve returned to fiddling with the hem of your shirt, avoiding his eyes. Eren reaches out, tilts your chin up to look at him.
“C’mon, be honest with me. Is it Jean?”
“Maybe a little.” Your words may be reluctant, but your eyes have taken on that glossy, distant look that Eren knows so well. It is Jean.
Eren pauses to wonder what you’ve fantasized about in the dark, what you’ve been holding back from him. Maybe one in your mouth, one thrusting into you from behind? Riding one and taking the other down your throat? The pictures that flash through his brain have a groan threatening to slip from his lips, the raw hotness of it cutting straight through the weirdness that he’s sitting here, staring at his girlfriend, and thinking about Jean with a tent in his boxers.
“Would you do it? If you were put in the right position?”
“I…yes. I would.” Your words come out in breathless gasps; oh, you have it bad, for both of them, Eren realizes. You catch yourself before he can drag you down too far though, reining yourself in with an airy chuckle. “But I doubt Jean would even go for it. He doesn’t seem all too freaky.”
“You never know,” Eren concedes, letting the matter lie for now and pulling you back into his chest, “but you would do it, right? If he was into it.”
“If you both were, then yeah, absolutely.” Eren can feel you subtly rubbing your thighs together, and he smirks above your head where you can’t see him.
“Maybe one day we can ask him.”
A lighthearted laugh shakes your frame. “Yeah, maybe one day.”
From then on out, Eren can’t escape the plaguing thoughts of you and Jean and himself, tangled up together in a mess of sweaty limbs. Images of you gagging on Jean while Eren has a hand on the back of your head, shoving you further along his length, keep him distracted while he’s at work. Making himself cum into his hand in the shower thinking of watching Jean, face between your legs and two knuckles deep in you, Eren telling him how to make you cum, how to make you scream.
It’s become a private obsession for him, one he can’t run away from. Eren has you over at the house every night nowadays, insisting he’s been going through a lot at work and he misses your company. You, being the sweet little thing that you are, have no idea that he’s watching, baiting Jean into coming clean.
Eren has happened to “lose” all of his sweatpants but one pair, forcing you to walk around their apartment in those short little sleep shorts you favor, or ideally, just your panties and a t-shirt. He observes Jean as you pitter patter around their kitchen, keeping track of just how many times Jean’s eyes flit to where the shirt rides up as you reach for something high in the cabinets. He’s not just watching Jean, he’s watching you too; the way your breath hitches in your throat when Jean slicks his hair back, when he stretches, arms over his head, and lets a little slip of skin show.
And when he can find the presence of mind to focus, late at night with your mouth on him or his face buried between your thighs, Eren listens closely, and he’s rewarded. There’s the telltale creak of feet on the carpet, of someone lurking just outside of Eren’s barely-cracked, “accidentally” left-open bedroom door. If he listens close enough, sometimes he swears he can hear little grunts and groans coming from across the hall.
You two want each other badly enough that it’s practically weighing the air down, and Eren’s not mad, he’s frustrated. You’re both so shy, so clearly uncomfortable with the attraction between each other, how is he ever going to manage to get you both to just say it?
It turns out that Eren’s not just an observant hothead, he’s a lucky observant hothead.
It’s been three weeks since you let Eren in on your little crush, three weeks of mind-numbing observation and little bits of bait thrown out, but neither you nor Jean have risen to any of it. It’s not until you’re finishing up dinner with Eren in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a tank top and the tiniest shorts he’s ever seen, that Jean comes home, sweaty and out-of-breath from the gym, and Eren sees his opportunity.
“Hey,” Jean breathes out in greeting, whipping his sticky shirt over his head and tossing it to the ground.
“Hi, Jean,” you smile amicably at him through the doorway. Eren watches as Jean’s expression lightens, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a wide smile.
“You save me something?”
“Always.” You shake a full Tupperware container at him meaningfully before sliding it into the fridge.
“You’re too good to me,” he whistles, hands running through his hair, “I’ll get to it after I shower.”
“How was the gym?” Eren makes his presence known, looking up from his phone where he’s seated at the dining table they’ve put just outside the kitchen. Jean meets Eren’s gaze with an all-too-obvious blush rising to his cheeks; Jean always gets that little embarrassed look when Eren catches him flirting with you.
“Fine,” Jean shrugs noncommittally.
“Any cute girls?” Eren asks, returning his gaze to his phone. He can viscerally feel the startled look you give him, the stuttering of Jean’s fluid movements next to you across the room, getting a cup from the cabinet.
“What?”
Eren lifts his gaze to find exactly what he expected: Jean, subconsciously having drawn just a little too close to you for comfort, glaring over at him; you, eyes wide and questioning, the slightest hint of a frown creasing your forehead. Eren lets an easy smile grace his mouth, shrugs.
“Were there any hot girls at the gym?”
“No,” Jean answers carefully, slowly pulling his arm down, cup in hand. Eren doesn’t miss the way the two of you glance at each other, the unsaid what the fuck? passing between you two in the air.
“I figured as much,” Eren shrugs again, scrolls on his phone, “not like you’d notice, considering how much drooling you do over my girlfriend.”
The words hit the floor like a shattering glass, spreading a heavy, thick silence over the room. Eren doesn’t dare look up from his screen, doesn’t want to disturb the aura of casual conversation that he’s worked to establish. He can’t jump in to reassure Jean that he doesn’t mind the other man’s flirtation and ogling glances, not too quickly. Eren has to spin this just right, back the both of you into the corner you so desperately want to be in.
“Eren,” you finally hiss, scowling at him. Eren knows you must be confused, but you’ll understand in a moment if he can play his cards right. “What the hell?”
Jean, for his part, is stock-still and bright red, looking between you and Eren like a deer caught in headlights.
“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know,” Eren rolls his eyes and stands from the table, leans against it with his hands in his pockets, twitching with anticipation, “we’ve talked about his little crush on you.”
“I– I don’t,” Jean tries to stutter out a rebuttal, but Eren cuts his words short with a cool, calculated grin.
“Yeah, you do,” Eren saunters over to the kitchen to place firm hands on your shoulders, turning you to face Jean, “but if you haven’t noticed that she has a little crush on you too, then you’re blind.”
“Eren!” Eren can hear the panic in your voice, can feel your shoulders tense up with embarrassment, but he’s hardly paying attention. His eyes never leave Jean, watching as the muscles of his chest and shoulders flex with the tension humming through his body.
“What are you playing at, Jaeger?” Jean narrows his eyes, finally picking up on Eren’s little game. Eren bites back a grin; if only Jean understood what game they were actually playing here.
“Nothing,” Eren says innocently, knowing full-well that the dark glint in his eyes is telling a different story, “it’s not like I blame you, I mean, look at her.”
Eren rubs relaxing circles into the skin of your shoulders, urging you to loosen up under his touch. You’re still strung tight, practically vibrating with confusion and shame under him, but Eren can feel the way your skin’s starting to run hot. Most of that tautness in your muscles is nothing but pure, unadulterated want, Eren’s felt it enough times now to know the difference.
“Eren…” the pinch of anger has faded from your voice now, and Eren can hear the cautionary, are we doing this now? tone hiding behind the words. In response, Eren digs his thumb into a particularly tough spot between your shoulder and your neck, wrenches an unwilling gasp from you.
“She really likes you, Jean,” Eren’s leaning over your shoulder, ignoring your warning completely, practically nose-to-nose with Jean now, “wants to fuck you, wants us to fuck you.”
Jean’s face stutters while his mouth remains silent, but just before he hardens his mouth into a flat line, schools his face back into that perpetually suspicious scowl of his, Eren catches it. Jean’s trying to keep himself closed off, but Eren’s faster, and he can see the flicker of arousal that floats over Jean’s face.
“You’re fucking with me,” Jean counters, but there’s a questioning lilt to his words. Eren grins, shakes his head. Jean looks down at you, trembling and frozen in Eren’s grip. “He’s fucking with me, right?”
“Tell him,” Eren coos, leaning down to whisper hot against your ear the way he knows will get a fire started in your belly, “tell him the truth, it’s okay.”
“He’s not,” you choke out, strangled and nervous, “it’s…it’s not a game.”
Jean blinks once at you, twice at Eren. Eren grabs you by the chin, gently guides your mouth to his. All of his suspicions are confirmed when he kisses you; you open up for him a little too easily, let him suck your tongue into his mouth with no resistance at all. And when he releases you, looks back up at Jean with a question in his eyes only to find that Jean’s gaze has darkened, mouth just ever-so-slightly ajar, Eren smirks. He’s got both of you right where he wants you.
“What do you think, Kirschstein?” Eren brings his hands up to hold your breasts, twisting your nipples through the thin fabric of your tank top. “Isn’t she cute?”
“I, I mean–”
“She’s so pretty,” Eren nips at your ear, pulls a little whimper from you, but he sees how your eyes never leave Jean’s, “and she listens so well, such an obedient little thing.”
“Eren,” you pant, the last bits of your anxiety showing in the tremble of your voice. Eren shushes you disapprovingly, sneaks a hand down between your legs, applying just enough pressure to make your knees weak.
“Gets bratty when she’s nervous,” Eren explains, flitting his eyes up towards Jean, who looks like he hasn’t taken a breath in several minutes, “don’t you want to show Jean how good you can be, hm?”
“Mhm,” you hum. It’s quiet, but it makes Jean’s eyes widen, makes him suck in a sharp fuck between his teeth.
“Why don’t you kiss her, hm?” Eren shoves you into Jean’s arms, startling both of you.
“Jaeger, I don’t–”
“I’m serious,” Eren backs away a few feet to prove his point, smiling earnestly, “kiss her.”
Jean scowls, looks between you, Eren, back to you. Eren takes note of how Jean’s hands haven’t left their grip on your waist where he caught your stumble from Eren’s push, how your arms are tucked into Jean’s tacky, strong chest.
“Is he serious?” Jean murmurs down at you.
“Only if you want it.” Eren hates the self-conscious waver in your voice, wishes he could have told you everything he’s seen over the last few weeks, all the evidence he’s collected that yes, Jean very much does want it. But then again, if he had, he wouldn’t be treated with the sight before him now: you and Jean, nervous in each other’s arms, practically vibrating with the idea of exploring each other for the first time.
“I,” –Jean licks his lips– “I want it. Want you.”
“Me too,” your voice is hardly louder than a breath, Eren recognizes the sound in a heartbeat. You’re already strung out, fingernails digging ever-so-slightly into the skin of Jean’s chest.
“Can I?” Jean’s so sickeningly sweet with you, Eren almost wants to roll his eyes. He likes to be sweet with you sometimes, but if Jean only knew how much you could take, the dirty, mean things that you beg Eren for…it occurs to Eren that maybe he can show Jean sometime, and his boxers start to tent underneath his sweats.
“Yes,” you tilt your chin up to Jean pleadingly, and Jean’s resolve finally breaks.
Eren’s delighted to see that Jean’s chasteness doesn’t hold out long; after only a few minutes have passed, your hands are flying all over each other, breathless little moans passing between your mouths. Jean’s hand trails down to cup your ass, and Eren looks on intently as the flesh gives under Jean’s grip through hooded eyes. Eren’s hand has subconsciously traveled down to the front of his sweats, palming roughly at the erection that’s showing through the thick fabric.
Jean starts to wander away from your mouth, eyes shut as he peppers gentle kisses along your jawline, feather-light nips down your neck. As if he’d forgotten about your clothes, Jean’s eyes widen when he feels the strap of your tank top under his mouth, and his eyes flit to Eren in question. Eren nods at him, tries to offer an encouraging smile that comes off more like a wicked smirk.
Jean slowly– ever so slowly– slips the strap over your shoulder, kissing at the newly-bare skin. Eren already knows you’re sensitive there; Jean quickly learns from the quivering gasp that reaches his ears.
“Is this okay?” Jean mumbles against your skin; Eren has to choke down a gag at his sugary tone.
“Take it off,” Eren answers for you, cheeks burning at how coarse he already sounds, throat swollen and thick with arousal. Jean scowls at Eren over your shoulder, turns softer eyes back to you.
“Please,” you echo Eren’s sentiment, raising your arms to emphasize your answer. Eren doesn’t miss the slight shake of Jean’s fingers as he reaches for the hem of your tank top, rids you of it slowly. Once you’re bare, Jean’s eyes darken, almost glossing over.
“Fuck,” Jean breathes out, ghosting a thumb over one of your peaked nipples. Eren’s chest swells with pride at how completely wrecked you’ve gotten Jean already; he’s practically drooling down at your half-bare form.
“Told you she was pretty.” Eren grins, gripping his erection harder through his pants. You were right about this, you were so right. There’s not enough blood flow above Eren’s waistline for him to focus on how bizarre it is that he’s getting off to another man, his friend even, pawing at his girlfriend; all he can process is the tangible heat of the room, memorizing each little spot on your body Jean’s hands return to in admiration, learning which parts of you Jean likes and which actions of Jean’s make your knees shake.
You peek over your shoulder at Eren, as if you’ve just remembered he’s in the room, and his knees nearly give out. Your lips are swollen and wet from Jean’s slow, strong kisses, from pulling your lip between your teeth in shame, and your eyes are glistening with unshed tears of pure want. Eren’s never seen you so beautiful.
“Do you want to…” you trail off, offering Eren a beckoning hand, but he declines, grinning at you.
“Have your fun,” Eren says, words a sharp blade against Jean’s steadfast comfort, “you begged for it enough.”
Your mouth stutters open in embarrassment, a half-formed protest on your lips, but Jean’s deft fingers grab your chin, gently directing you back to him. He gives Eren a chastising frown, clear disapproval of Eren’s snark. Eren thinks that he likes the contrast they give you as a team; Eren the firm hand of discipline, and Jean the soothing balm to ease your cries.
“Is he telling the truth?” Jean questions you softly, free hand cupping your breast ever-so-tenderly. Eren watches your back arch, watches the way you lean desperately into Jean’s touch. “Did you beg for this?”
“Yes,” you say, voice breaking under the weight of your arousal.
“Okay,” Jean nods, as if he needs any more reassurance, Eren thinks with a roll of his eyes.
“Her mouth,” Eren calls out, unable to rein in the telltale rasp of desperation in his voice, “she’s good with her mouth.”
Jean’s eyebrows furrow in thought; Eren can see the choices flying across his face, to have you spread on the counter before him, feel the warmth of your walls around his fingers, or the soft give of your throat around his cock.
“I like doing that,” you whisper, so low Eren almost doesn’t hear you. Jean’s eyes shoot open in surprise, until a slow, understanding smile spreads over his face. Eren almost wheezes with relief.
“You like using your mouth?” Jean thumbs lovingly at your lip, smiles wider at your enthusiastic nod. Without being told (Eren decides to reward you later for being so good for your guest, showing off how well he’s trained you) you climb down onto your knees, sitting back and waiting patiently.
Jean looks back to Eren, the last thin string of hesitation taut between them and aching to be cut. Eren snaps it with an affirmative nod of his head, shoves his pants and boxers down to finally free his dick and bring it against the familiar skin of his palm.
Jean’s eyes flick to Eren’s length, pausing just a little too long. Eren doesn’t have the wherewithal to think too much into that now, only to appreciate the rush of heat it sends through his veins. In answer, Jean pushes his shorts down his legs, sending the compression boxers he’d worn for the gym sliding to the floor with them, cock bobbing free and dangling in front of your face.
“Pretty,” you murmur, wrapping your hand around the base and pressing a light kiss to the tip affectionately. Jean’s head falls back, and he groans; a throaty, appreciative sound.
Eren was growing frustrated initially with Jean’s softness towards you, but it hadn’t occurred to him that you might behave differently towards Jean than you do towards him. When you take Eren in your mouth, you’re all enthusiasm, dipping as far as you can go the moment he taps your tongue, retching on him, drool hanging in long strings from your tongue and wetting your chest.
With Jean, however, you place curious little kisses up the bottom of him, deliver kitten licks to the tip before swirling your tongue in long, slow circles around where he’s flushed and dripping for you. Jean swears repeatedly under his breath, brings a tentative hand to the back of your head to run his fingers through your hair. Eren’s own hand slows where he’s jerking off, his gaze honing in to look on in wonder as a woman he thought he knew so well reveals a new side of herself to both of the men watching her.
“That’s– shit,” Jean groans, head lolling off his shoulders and eyebrows knitted in pleasure.
Eren feels a poignant rush of pride at watching Jean become unraveled from your mouth, watching how good you make him feel. It’s a relief for Eren as much as it is for Jean, he thinks, to watch some of that iron-clad composure drop, see the way Jean’s jaw drops slack, his shoulders slouch.
“She’s good, isn’t she?” Eren hardly recognizes his own voice, gravelly as he speaks into the sticky air. Jean meets Eren’s eyes, both of their gazes half-lidded and desperate.
“So good,” Jean answers, only breaking eye contact when a satisfied little hum rings out from you, sending vibrations ricocheting through Jean’s body and making him roll his head back again, a little moan echoing out into the room.
“Doing so good for him, baby,” Eren strides closer, bold and half-mad, wanting to see the way your cheeks hollow around Jean, the way that drool is starting to collect in a glossy sheen on your chin. “You like it? Like having him down your throat?”
You nod, mouth still full and eyes shining up at them, glazed over and content. Eren softly cups the back of your head for a whisper of a moment, loving that he has this relationship with you, loving that he can watch such a sacred sight and know that you love him all the same, loving what a filthy little thing he’s turned you into.
“Fuck,” Jean exhales, eyes widening as Eren’s tenderness morphs into something urgent, shoving you further along Jean’s length, “don’t– don’t choke her–”
“That’s what she wants, isn’t it?” Eren’s affectionate gaze turns hard and expectant, hand forcing your head to move faster, harder, further. “You love having your mouth full, don’t you? Nasty little slut.”
“Mhm,” you whine around Jean’s cock, pulling a throaty groan out from him.
“You’re being– shit, too rough with her,” Jean tries and fails to shoot Eren a glare, eyes flitting back down to you when your throat constricts around him with a gag.
“She loves it,” Eren corrects him coolly, mouth quirking up at the corner when you retch, “loves being whored out. You want his cum down your throat? Show him how bad you want it.”
You slip your tongue out, letting it rub down the thick vein on the underside of Jean’s cock, opening your throat that much more for him. Jean nearly whimpers, bringing his hand to the other side of your head, holding you softer, more gently than Eren, but clearly beginning to lose himself.
“So good for me, princess,” Jean murmurs down at you, chest beginning to heave with the growing intensity of your movements. You blink up, hearts in your hooded eyes, humming around Jean affectionately. Eren chuckles darkly.
“Is that what you are? Jean’s little princess?” Eren shoves you down particularly hard, grinning cruelly as your body constricts with a vicious gag, Jean groaning loudly next to him.
“F-fuck, I’m–”
“Getting close?” Eren murmurs in Jean’s direction, never taking his eyes off of where you’re on your knees, crying and gagging and working so hard for Jean’s cum, “I bet. She’s fucking good.”
Your eyes flick between the two men towering over you, trying desperately to keep your throat open to receive the little thrusts of Jean’s hips, hands folded in your lap obediently as you squirm, rubbing your thighs together in a fruitless attempt to gain some much-needed friction. Eren notices the steady, needy rocking of your hips, smirks triumphantly.
“Look at her, like a bitch in heat,” Eren sneers, “squirming and shit, trying to get herself off with your cock down her throat. Give her what she wants, Kirschstein, come on.”
Your gaze lands on Jean, watery eyes blinking pleadingly. Eren can hear the little hitches in Jean’s breath growing more frequent, more urgent, and he isn’t sure where he wants to look more: down at you, so needy and pleading on the floor, throat stuffed and wet between the legs, or Jean, strung out and panting down at you, hips canting into your mouth harshly.
And then Jean’s cumming, and Eren realizes where he wants to look, has to squeeze the base of his cock hard. Jean throws his head back, eyes screwed shut, hand fisting into your hair and fingertips rubbing against the back of Eren’s hand, a deep, raspy groan clawing its way out of his chest. His hips push forward of their own accord; Eren can hear you coughing as Jean cums down your throat, a lot by the sound of it, but Eren can’t be bothered to look away from the other man, fucked out and untethered all from your mouth. Eren’s damn close to busting from just watching Jean cum, knowing the feeling all too well and never having anticipated how erotic it would be to watch another man be brought to his knees by you on yours.
“Holy shit,” Jean breathes, barely a whisper of a statement, chuckling airily down at you when you release him with a little pop.
“Was that…good?” You venture, smiling shyly. Eren nearly scoffs; you’re so good at playing the part of the innocent little thing, when he knows better. You’re a menace, a vixen.
“That was incredible,” Jean says, and Eren can hear the bare honesty in his statement.
“Up.” Eren interrupts your little moment with Jean to tug you to your feet. It prompts an expression of bewilderment to appear on your face, as if you’d forgotten that he needs to get off too, and so do you. Eren turns to Jean, appraises him. “I’m going to fuck her, you’re more than welcome to stay.”
“Wait, Eren–”
“Wait?” Eren chides, ripping those tiny shorts from your body like the inconvenience they are, leaving you bare and wanting. “Don’t you want to get fucked? I mean, look at you. You’re soaked.”
There’s a little glisten at the apex of your thighs, the evidence of you rubbing your legs together in a desperate attempt for stimulation shining in the low lights of the kitchen. Eren pulls you over to the chair that had started it all, where he’d been sitting when this beautiful opportunity had stumbled across him. He sits, tugging you into his lap with a smack to your ass, settling you over his cock and letting you grind yourself against it, slick him up.
“Tell me,” Eren pinches your chin, forces your eyes to his, “don’t you want me to fuck you?”
“Please, please,” you gasp, working your hips over him like a woman starved, like your last chance at salvation is getting Eren as deep inside of you as he’ll go. Eren smiles, pleased with your answer, and lifts your hips, letting you sink down on him with an endless, pitchy moan. He glances over your shoulder to see Jean, sitting across the table from you both, tugging absentmindedly on his half-hard cock and watching intently. The sight of it fuels the fire in Eren’s veins, convinces him to convince you to keep showing off, show Jean how hot you two can be when you get into it.
“Give it to me then,” Eren slaps your ass again, nips at your jaw, “show me how bad you need to be fucked, baby.”
“E-Eren,” you whine, rolling your hips down on him the way he knows you love, the way that makes a little bulge appear right at the base of your tummy, the evidence of just how deep he is.
“There you go,” he coos, grabbing your hips and working you faster, forcing you towards your orgasm as fast as he can because he knows good and well he’s not going to last, “all better, yeah? Little slut likes having her cunt stuffed full?”
“Yeah I do,” you say dreamily, eyes rolling back as Eren starts to thrust up into you in tune with the canting of your hips. He can see Jean over your shoulder, fully hard again and pulling at his cock, looking mesmerized. Eren catches Jean’s eye, smirks like a cat that’s got the cream.
“He’s watching you,” Eren murmurs to you, purposefully loud enough for Jean to hear, “watching you get fucked dumb. Gonna show Jean how pretty you are when you cum?”
“I-I–” A well-placed thrust from Eren makes you cut yourself off with a sob, hands flying to his shoulders for support. Erin grins, something feral and predatory, snapping his hips up into you harder.
“Gonna cum so fast I bet,” Eren grunts, “so needy for it, my spoiled fuckin' brat. Can’t ever be satisfied, can you?”
“Uh-uh,” you whimper, thighs already beginning to shake around his hips. Eren’s eyes are glued behind you, on Jean’s strung-out gaze, on the desperate motion of his hand around his cock. Eren wonders if just the sight of you fucking him is enough to make Jean cum again; the thought spurs him on, has him jackhammering up into you like his life depends on it.
“Quit holding out on me, then,” Eren growls, “can feel you clenching down on me, know you want to.”
“I w-want to.” A fresh wave of tears has escaped your mindless eyes, dripping down the side of your face, off your jaw, onto your chest.
“Fucking do it then,” Eren snaps, growing closer to the end of his line with every punch of his hips up into you, “show Jean what a little slut you are, how hard you cum for me. Go on, show him.”
“E-Eren, I– oh, oh fuck, I’m gonna–”
“There you go,” Eren snarls like he’s tired of waiting on you, feeling your body break and bloom all at once in his hands, “there you go, good girl.”
Eren watches Jean look on as your body thrashes, rolls with the waves of your orgasm quaking through you, the way his jaw drops a little when you wail and leave dark half-moon indentations into Eren’s shoulders. Jean’s hand is moving impossibly fast in time with Eren’s hips, and when Eren feels himself getting close, only moments away from his release, he meets eyes with Jean. Something overtakes him, something dark and unfamiliar, and Eren flits his eyes down to Jean’s cock, back up to Jean’s gaze, and nods. Jean cums with a loud groan and a shudder, triggering Eren’s orgasm. Eren clutches you to his chest desperately, pinning you down onto his cock and filling you with his cum as deep as he can manage, groaning in your ear amidst the sound of your whimpers and whines.
A beat passes, heavy and pregnant with tension. Eren and Jean are still locked eye to eye, watching each other to see who will make the first move. Jean, coated in his own release, glances down to see Eren’s cum dripping out of you, seems to come back to himself with a shudder.
“I…I’m going to shower,” he says, clunky and awkward, standing and pulling his shorts back over his softening cock, mindless of the white ropes decorating his abdomen.
“Jean?” You murmur into Eren’s skin, sitting up slightly and wincing at the feel of Eren’s half-hard cock still digging into the most sensitive parts of you.
“Yeah?” Jean stops in his tracks, looking over at you and Eren with all the tension of a wild animal that’s been caught.
“That was fun,” you smile dreamily, slumping back into Eren’s chest and blinking up at him, “don’t you think, babe?”
“Lots of fun, baby,” Eren strokes your hair, urging you to stay curled into him, knows you need to for a few minutes after he’s fucked you half-dumb, “what do you think, Kirschstein?”
“It was…” Jean gulps, looks around the room with a pink stain to his cheeks, “it was fun, yeah.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed us,” you giggle deliriously, “we’ll have to do it again sometime.”
“Is that so?” Jean eyes Eren, narrows his eyes suspiciously. Eren almost rolls his eyes, out of patience for this Jean, all cautious and nervous like he hadn’t just cum down your throat.
“I think so,” Eren says in confirmation, trailing a hand up your back soothingly, “anything for my girl, right?”
“Right,” Jean frowns, almost as if Eren had said something in another language.
“See you soon, Jeanie,” you wave him off to the shower sleepily, biting a smile back behind your swollen lips. Jean makes a swift exit, still blushing madly. “Do you think he liked it?”
“I think he loved it,” Eren chuckles down at you, still cording his fingers through any parts of your hair that aren’t a tangled mess.
“And you?”
“I’d do it again,” Eren answers you with a noncommittal shrug. You cock an eyebrow at him.
“Seemed like you really enjoyed yourself. Am I the only one with a crush on Jean?”
“I’m not gay,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes. You simply keep your disbelieving glare on him for an extra beat or two; Eren squirms uncomfortably under your knowing gaze, not necessarily wanting to confront this while he’s still balls-deep in you. To his relief, you ease up, gingerly stepping off of him and offering him a hand.
“Mmm, okay. We’ll talk after a shower?”
“Fine,” Eren grumbles, letting you pull him towards his half of the apartment and hoping you don’t notice the quick glance he shoots over his shoulder, catching a flash of Jean’s bare skin as he steps into his bathroom.
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Pray to the lord. Baby I'm Yours.
18+ viewer discretion is advised
Omega!Prince!Satoru Gojo/Alpha!Servant!Suguru Geto
Warning: omega verse, bottom gojo, top geto, royalty au, omega heats, pillow humping, frotting, 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 frotters, accidental voyeurism, technically handjobs, naked cuddling
Word count: 2871
DESC: Suguru was the servant of the Gojo family, mainly Satoru's personal servant. What happens when he, the alpha he is, goes to check on the prince [very big omega] while he's suffering an extremely bad heat? Not to mention, he has no idea what actually happens during a heat.
I originally wanted to do this with Zosan but satosugu's been on my mind
NOTES: this is my first omegaverse fic so yes obviously geto would've heard about heat but I think he didn't have good access to sex education as a kid. so he most likely only knew what his classmates said and since he had probably only been with alphas (if he grew up in an alpha dominated area) it would've been mainly alpha stuff.
and lets just say.. he's probably just recently joined the staff, so he has yet to see gojos insanely intense heats.
Suguru Geto was an alpha by all accords. The way he acted and especially the way he smelt. It was intensely intoxicating for anyone who walked past, and he was none the wiser. Yes, he was smart, but he didn’t entirely understand how omegas functioned. He never bothered to truly research how a heat affected them, or how his presence could make it worse. He was handsome, it was obvious, and his scent was strong. So that mixture could send any omega in heat over the edge. But that never interested him. He liked omegas, sure, but the only omega he had on his mind was the Prince. That prince was his best friend, his everything [no homo], so he was always thinking about him. Even on the days he had off from being his indentured servant, his mind always wandered back to the crown.
He found himself on this fine day washing dishes in the kitchen. It was nothing out of the ordinary for him aside from the fact he hadn’t been summoned all morning. It was bridging on noon and the prince hadn’t even called for him through one of his maids. Any other day he wouldn’t think too much about it and sit around until he was useful, but today he was more concerned. The servant had heard from a maid who heard from another maid that Prince Satoru Gojo was set to start his heat any moment. Typically he would just block it with his hormone blockers but the king wanted him to mate at some point to provide an heir.
How could you have an heir if the Prince wasn’t going to have sex with anyone? He thought, with a slight roll of his eyes. Satoru wasn’t interested in anyone, he knew that. Especially, since his prince would tell him that. He could recite every suitor and what was wrong with them. Every flaw, every freckle out of place. It was trivial things that made the prince say no, and he couldn't care less. As long as he got to serve his prince that was all that mattered to him. But- but not in a weird way.
Suguru looked down at the running water, as it splashed against the plate he had been scrubbing incessantly for five minutes straight. At some point, he’d have to bite the bullet and just walk in there. Don’t heats make the omegas sick or something? He wasn’t sure. He knew it had to do with fertility and babies, and slick, whatever that was. One of the maids had talked about slick before and he found himself looking away and pretending he wasn’t there. Setting the plate down, the servant strode to the fridge and opened it. What do sick people like to eat? Well, there was soup… But did Satoru even like soup? No, he liked… The man stood there for a few minutes as he debated what the prince would like before a voice cut through his thoughts.
“You know,” he turned to see it was Ms. Shoko Ieri, “I think his heats pretty bad this time. Postponing it and all.” Oh right, he had been blocking it for several months before this. Did it cause some kind of intense explosion of sickness?
Suguru nodded, turning his body and acting as if he had a clue what she meant by bad, “I was going to bring him some food. But I’m just not sure what he’d like…” A small and unsure smile pulled at his lips. He wasn’t sure if the prince was awake! Don’t sick people sleep a lot? Maybe it would do him some good to just walk in there and assess how sick he was before he made him some broth. After his conversation with Shoko ended, where he stated he would be checking in on the prince, she made a comment that utterly perplexed him.
“Careful, your scent might send him into shock.”
His scent? Do alphas smell somehow make omegas even more sick during their heats? Or perhaps their mere presence? As the man walked down the silent hallway, he looked around before bringing his wrist to his nose. One of his scent glands was there, aside from his neck or his face. He didn’t smell more pungent than normal, although everyone always commented on his musk. He didn’t really notice all of that. Satoru had a smell, but it was faint enough that he never took notice of it. It was sweet, just like his taste in food. He always thought it had fit him, smelling like pure sugar and cookies. Like a freshly baked batch of cookies left to cool on a window sill in his memories.
He pressed to fingers to the scent gland on his neck, pressing down a bit to pick up more of his scent. Apparently, he smelt the most there. But when he brought it to his nose to take a whiff, he got just barely anything. Was he nose blind? Was nose blind-ness to your own scent a thing? Suguru was lost in thought as he approached the door he didn’t hear any of the very obvious noises from it. Well, he didn’t for a moment until he heard the first sob. Was the prince … crying? Oh no, he must have been very sick. He never cried unless he was in absolute pain. Geto pressed his ear up against the door and listened for a minute, hearing nothing but muffled sobs and sniffles. Maybe a few words but it was hard to make out through the door.
The servant let out a breath, at some point, he’d have to open that door and face a very sick Satoru. His mind was going on and on about how he could make the prince feel better, that he wasn’t prepared for the sight his eyes found waiting for him. It had slipped his mind that earlier that week, he had misplaced one of his more casual jackets for when he was on his days off. It was dark blue with very soft cotton lining the inside. Well, now he knew where it had gone. Before him, Satoru was lying on his bed, with the jacket around him. At first, the sight was just, a man crying with a jacket around his shoulders. Until he took a closer look to see that he was A) bottomless and B) rocking his hips around a pillow enclosed in between his legs, while sobbing into the jacket. It was hard for him to make out exactly what it was, but once he saw it he felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He just walked in on his sick princess masturbating while wearing his very own jacket.
Then it clicked once he smelt it. It was raging and emitting solely from Satoru and Satoru alone. Sweet and sickly at that was what Suguru would describe it as. Pungent and making his ears begin to throb. Was this what omegas emitted during their heats? It was … intoxicating. Almost better than cookies, it smelt like heaven. But… was it supposed to be arousing? That was what was truly bothering him. For how good it smelt, it made the alpha feel a certain way. The throbbing in his ears subsided, and another area started to twitch. Maybe it was the fact he was watching a man who didn’t know he was there jerk off, but it was hard to keep away. It was almost instinctual and purely uncontrollable as he closed the door behind himself and cleared his throat.
Satoru sat up almost instantly, but his hips didn’t stop. The jacket fell around him, revealing a shirtless chest and eyes welled with pleasurable tears. He didn’t look sick, he just looked flushed. He eyed the servant and choked out a few words, “I.. I’m sorry.”
Suguru raised an eyebrow; His grinding was as uncontrollable as his own urges being splayed before him. Was this what a heat was, not sickness but rather an unattainable thirst he couldn’t quite quench? Then the man realized he was utterly stupid. It had to be similar to his own ruts. He didn’t even know there was such a thing as an omega rut! My god, this guy was clueless! Had he been living under a rock? He knew he would’ve remembered if Omegas went into rut. Maybe it slipped his mind. But, he knew how it felt when he was in rut, how he acted, so it must be the same. Peak fertility right? He just needed to get off, and the servant could help with that. He devoted his life to Satoru, of course, he’d do anything to help him.
“Don’t apologize, you can’t help it,” his voice outright purred against his own volition. God, even the way Satoru looked at him was enough to turn him on beyond belief. That poor, helpless look, desperate to relieve his tension. All that smugness he typically carried was gone and left was a submissive little slut who was continuously grinding his cock against the pillow despite the shame he so obviously felt.
“Su-Suguru…” He mewled, hiccuping as he did so, “Come here…” Satoru looked away, a hazy blush burning across his cheeks. It was adorable, white hairs falling into his face as he let out a guttural moan. His cock looked swollen as the servant approached him, loosening his tie by rocking it back and forth with one hand. Was this from the prince trying to cum, or was this from his last orgasms? He bet that his hands would feel much better than that pillow, and his scent would be nicer too.
Suguru tossed his tie to the ground, kicked off his shoes, and started to unbutton his shirt, “I’m going to make it all better, okay Satoru? You won’t have to lift a finger. I’m here.” His eyes were half-lidded as his white shirt slid down his chest to reveal pectorals he had worked so hard at building. Then came his underwear. He wasn’t going to be shy if his prince was already on full display. Just eyeing his cock made a whimper escape the other man's lips, his hips swiveling side to side to scratch that itch.
The bed dipped down with his weight and he sat in front of Satoru, lightly picking up the pillow and promptly tossing it. The prince sat on his knees, hovering slightly above the bed as his slick covered his inner thighs and dripped onto the mattress. How pitiful. He just needed to release and that made the servant throb at the sight. Seeing their dicks, as he looked down, it was a bit of a turn-on and a bit of an ego boost. Suguru was hung, sorry it’s canon. He watched as his cock twitched and begged for some kind of stimulation. He glanced at Satoru’s smaller cock, spasming more than his own.
Well, he had to think about this carefully. Satoru was at peak fertility, right? If he came inside him, there was a guarantee he’d become pregnant, which would be the worst possible scenario. On any day, he’d love to breed him. But… if he was at least on birth control. The prince couldn’t get pregnant from a commoner whose education was so poor he didn’t know what a damn heat entailed. So what else could they do? The obvious was a blowjob or a handjob, but he didn’t want the other man to have to lift a finger for him in return. He wanted to give him the most pleasure without Gojo needing to return it. He didn’t even care if he came, as long as his prince was satisfied.
“Lay down,” was what Suguru ended up saying. Without hesitation, the princess fell to his back and awkwardly stretched his legs out around his servant. How submissive. If he wanted to take his time and relish in this, he would’ve. But they had business to attend to! The first orgasm was always the most intense, in his experience. And heats and ruts were basically the same thing, right? Probably! Geto sat himself below Satoru’s lap, so their dicks were touching. It was sensitive, as they pressed against each other in a perfect curve. Almost like his cock was made for him. The man rolled his hips, just once, to see how the other liked it.
The white-haired male brought a hand to his mouth and bit down on his fingertips to stop a wail from escaping. Oh, so he definitely liked it. “H..hold it.. Mm.. hold- hold them.. T-to.. together hah…” Satoru whined, bucking his hips up uncontrollably. The servant did exactly as he was told, cupping both of their cock-heads together then running his down the middle, so his palm graced his cock and his fingertips touched the others. It felt, so good. The warmth of Gojo’s cock mixed with his firm hand was enough to get bouts of precum to leak from his tip. The prince was past the point of leaking, he was practically gushing pre through his swollen tip. It was cute, he thought as he rubbed his thumb across the slit.
“H-ha.. you’re g-gonna m..make me..,” Satoru chuckled, a hazy expression taking hold of his features as he squeezed the bed beneath him. His eyes were blown out, blue taken over by a black pupil. It was strange to look at as he ground his hips back and forth while using his hand to jack the two of them off. It was slow and methodical, and god was it hot. Pleasure built at the base of his cock, slowly building until it shot up almost instantaneously. It was jarring, going from a pleasurable buzz to an intense eruption.
He didn’t stop his movements, even when the heat was rising too hot in his lower stomach. Suguru focused his other hand on the male's tip, making sure to toy with it in the way he, himself, liked. Surely when you’re that horny any stimulation is good stimulation, right? He was already close, but to see Satoru squirming at the brink of a slow orgasm was too much to see. He bucked his hips every time it got too much, and the other would slow, just to draw out the pleasure. The more Geto teased, the more he knew it would pay off for the other.
“Are you ready?” He cooed, leaning forward to press their dicks closer together. Satoru moaned in response, head bobbing back and forth as if his neck had been broken. Oh, he wanted it so bad. To get sent over the edge and shudder until he could barely take it anymore. He wanted to cry until he passed out.
Suguru nodded, a bit of determination filling his face. He was going to try at the very most to fill the prince's expectations as much as he could. His thrusting sped, and his hand jerked them off with more vigor. Just even applying more pressure was too much for Satoru, and he came within seconds. His moans were a flurry in the air, filling the servant's senses as he found himself spilling over too. It was a rush of heat from his length up to the tip, where it exploded in sensual bliss. Wave after wave washed over his cock and through his lower half, and he assumed it was more intense for the other since his breathing was quickening with every stroke. His cum splattered onto his stomach, dribbling out in a desperately slow manner. He could tell it felt like heaven as Satoru’s eyes rolled back and his back arched to the orgasm. That’s all the man wanted, was his prince to feel good.
Suguru got off of him, eliciting a small whine from his other half’s lips, “I’m just getting you a tissue.” A small smile played on his lips as he did so, focusing his energy on cleaning up Satoru more so than himself. Most of his cum had landed on Satoru anyways. Once he set the tissues on the side table, he slumped down beside the prince and pulled him close. He didn’t smell as potent as he did before, this must’ve meant the first big wave was over. Of course, he’d have a flare-up again, but the majority of it had to be out of the way. However, he’d have to ask another omega maid and clarify all his questions since he was still going off of his own rut experiences.
Satoru wrapped his arms around his servant and buried his head in Geto’s scent gland, reveling in the fact it was his scent. Sure, alphas scents helped [at least Suguru assumed that] but he didn’t realize that it was his scent only that was the most comforting to Satoru. I mean, why do you think he stole his jacket in preparation? They had gotten so close in the months of him working there, that it was only fair he’d want to be with someone he loved during this time.
“Satoru…” he whispered, running big hands through tufts of white hair, “I’m so glad I could serve you. Now and forever… I’m yours.”
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