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#jean kirschstein smut
theragethatisdesire · 10 months
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pretty girl - jean kirschtein x afab!reader - 18+!!!
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there's def more eren coming but while that's in the works please enjoy the result of the jean brainrot i experienced the other day. fair warning- it's going to get pretty rough, but that's what you asked him for ;)
pairing: reader x jean kirschtein
wc: 4.6k
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: smut, consensual hook-up, established relationship (jean's ur gorgeous bf lucky u), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, pretty rough sex, vaginal fingering, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, daddy kink, use of names (pretty girl, crybaby, good girl), very dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie
this one was super fun and is very tasty u guys enjoy <3
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-> be there in 5 babe :)
You are not looking forward to this, to say the least. You pace madly around your little apartment in a massive t-shirt and sweatpants covering the skimpiest lingerie set you own. It’s got all the bells and whistles: a matching garter belt, lace in all the right places, stockings that come up to where your plush thighs are the fattest. You should be looking forward to this, you tell yourself, candles lit and ambient lighting ready to go. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who’s going to “be here in five”, and you should be brimming with excitement. But…you’re just not.
Jean’s been in your life for a few months now. What had started as a run-in at the coffee shop around the corner had turned into candlelit dinners, movie marathons, and exclusive titles, and you adore him. His sandy brown hair, the tattoo on his strong bicep, pretty hazel eyes– Jean’s sexy, loving, sarcastic, attentive, literally everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. Except when it comes to your sex life, that is.
The sex isn’t bad per se, you just can’t shake the feeling that he’s holding something back from you. He’s almost too perfect; he’s gentle with you, always taking care to ask permission before touching you, chaste kisses as he slides in, hand-holding in missionary. He cums every time, immune to the whiskey-dick you’d expect from his bourbon drinking habit, so you know he’s enjoying himself, but he doesn’t always seem all there. The fire just isn’t in him, and you know he has that side to him. You’ve seen those hazel eyes you love so much blaze, in a heated argument, at the gym. Why it doesn’t happen in your intimate moments is beyond you, it’s like he’s afraid to break you, like he’s not doing everything–
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Shit, knocking on your front door is what he’s doing.
You take one last look in the mirror: hair’s casual, but still sexy, makeup to a minimum, all straps and lace covered up by your inconspicuous pajamas. Time to potentially ruin your relationship.
“Hey beautiful,” Jean greets you with an innocent smile, “you look cozy.”
“Feel cozy,” you accept his kiss, chewing on your lip as he comes in. Your heart’s pounding in your ears; poor thing has no idea what’s to come. Maybe it’ll go well, you think; false hope might be the only thing that gets you to pull through with your plan.
“Have any movie ideas for tonight? I was thinking Hereditary, but only if you’re not too chicken…” Jean raises his eyebrows, a taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Ha! If only he knew all of the things you aren’t “too chicken” for.
You smile weakly, stomach churning. “Maybe. Can we just…can we just talk for a sec?”
Jean’s playful demeanor drops instantly, replaced by a faint frown. “What about?”
You amble over to the couch, playing with the strings of your sweatpants anxiously. How the fuck are you even supposed to bring this up? Your mind’s racing so quickly it draws a blank, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt: “Sex.”
“Sex?” Jean’s cheeks tinge pink. He hasn’t shaved in probably a week, a shadow covering his sharp jawline. God, he’s gorgeous, you can’t mess this up, you really can’t.
“Yeah,” you confirm, “sex. Our sex, to be clear.”
“I figured as much,” Jean’s sat himself beside you now, one eyebrow raised suspiciously. He’s not upset, not yet, but you’ve definitely caught him off guard.
“I– I feel like we’re on different pages,” you stammer– fuck you are so bad at this, “I just feel like sometimes you’re so…gentle, and you don’t necessarily, like, have to be?”
Jean’s frowning full on now, a precious little wrinkle appearing in the center of his forehead. You’ve hurt him, and your heart sinks. Probably should have started with the pros. “Like…what do you mean, by ‘don’t have to be gentle’?”
“Our sex life is great,” you try to smile enthusiastically, as if you don’t actually want to blow your brains out right now, “please don’t think I’m saying you’re bad in bed or anything. I just, like– okay, for example, have you ever tried anything rough?”
His mouth is a flat line. “Like what?”
“Like, handcuffs, or roleplay, any of that stuff.”
“What have you tried?” His voice is even, collected, but there’s something simmering in him that you can’t put your finger on. It’s not anger, but it tastes similar, running in the same vein but not quite there. It’s your turn to feel your face warm.
“I mean, I’ve tried handcuffs before. Some light slapping, spanking.” You’re twiddling your thumbs, confessing into your lap. You can feel his eyes on you.
“That it?”
“I guess.”
“Did you…enjoy that kind of stuff?” He’s taking the bait. You finally meet his gaze and it ignites a little fire in your stomach; he’s never looked at you this intensely, brows pinched together like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. All of these little mannerisms are tells, you’re intuitive enough to know that, but exactly what he’s trying to convey you just can’t figure out.
“Yeah.”
“How rough are we talking, here?” Jean sounds deeper than normal, the slightest bit of strain to his words. That’s definitely new; Jean’s the most unshakeable person you’ve ever met.
“If I’m making you uncomfortable, I–”
“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” an easy chuckle floats out of his mouth, “just trying to feel you out is all.”
Your brows furrow. “Feel me out?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I’m surprised, that’s all.”
“Surprised?” Your nose wrinkles. “Did I ever give off the impression that I was, like, super vanilla or something?”
“No,” he laughs again, a bit of the tension melting from the room, “no, not that. We’re just still pretty new, that’s all. Wasn’t going to whip out everything in my toolbox ‘til I knew you were okay with it.”
That piques your interest; you think you’d very much like to see what’s in this toolbox of his. “So you do like some of this stuff?”
Jean rolls that thought over in his mind for a beat before responding, a suspicious smirk that you can’t read tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I guess you could say I like some of this stuff.”
“We’re back to my original question then: what do you like?”
“I’m more worried about what you like,” Jean says, “especially since you won’t come right out and say it. Gonna make me guess?”
That’s your Jean, blunt as ever. The fire in your stomach sparks and spits at the conversation, teasing and tempting. There’s something playful to his words; you can’t shake this feeling that you’re missing something, that he’s toying with you, but you like it. You let him keep pushing, see where he’s leading you. “Sure, guess.”
“Do you like…” Jean trails off, examining you with his chin nestled between his thumb and index finger, “to be dominant?”
“No.”
“Submissive, then.”
“Yeah.” He likes that, you can tell by the way his eyes glint at you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip.
“Like to be tied up?”
“Already told you about the handcuffs.”
“I bet you have a praise kink.”
That has you flustered. There’s a sinking sensation in your stomach that you’ve underestimated him, waded out too deep into the water, but fuck it, you’re already here. “How’d you know?”
Jean smiles, pleased. “I just do. Overstimulation?”
“Sure.”
“Orgasm denial? Degradation?”
“If I deserve it.” It’s a bold answer, but it makes Jean suck in a sharp “fuck” between his teeth. Oh yes, you’ve definitely underestimated him.
“You like to be punished, don’t you?” His hand has traveled up to cup your jaw, thumb playing absentmindedly with your bottom lip. There’s an anticipatory warmth gathering between your legs, and the air between you both is practically crackling, charged by the tension thrumming through both of your bodies.
“Yes,” it comes out in a breath, almost pathetic, but you can’t help yourself. He looks so good, always does, and now he’s grazing his eyes over you like he wants to take a bite.
“You know how safewords work?” You nod a bit too eagerly. “Ours is going to be red, okay?”
“Okay,” you’re agreeing, but you aren’t entirely sure what to, caught up in the soft rubbing of his thumb over your mouth.
“If your mouth is,” a deep breath shakes through his frame, “occupied, give me a sharp pinch with your nails.”
“I can do that,” the tension between you is palpable now, the room’s so hot that you’re surprised your wallpaper isn’t peeling off.
“Go to your room,” Jean releases you, eyes dark and hungry, “take your clothes off and wait for me on the bed. I’ll be in soon.”
You follow his instructions without thinking twice, as if a switch has flipped in your brain. Maybe it was his tone, an authoritative way of speaking that threatens consequence, or maybe you’re just so ready to see what this perfect boyfriend of yours has been hiding all this time. As you’re getting undressed, you realize he still doesn't know about your lingerie. You bite back a smile, kneeling on the bed. This is going to be so good.
A minute or so ticks by slowly, and just when your legs are starting to ache, Jean’s entering your room. His face darkens in a way you’ve never seen before when he sees your little get up; lightning shoots through your core.
“Put on a pretty outfit just for me?”
“Mhm,” you hum.
“That’s good,” he says in that slow drawl of his, “good girl.”
He’s only testing the waters, but you can feel your body viscerally react to the little pet name, shifting on your knees to mask your desperate attempt for friction, dampness spreading in your panties. Jean sees right through your act, smirking.
Jean joins you in undressing, slipping his shirt over his head. You take your time admiring his torso; miles of long, lean muscle, little ripples by his ribs trailing into a ridiculous six-pack. Jean’s a confessed gym rat, and it shows in every little line along his body. You have to blink and look away before you start salivating.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Jean scolds, tilting your head up towards him, “eyes on me, got it?”
“Got it,” you answer. Jean frowns.
“That’s not very nice,” he says, “try again.”
You go out on a limb. “Yes, sir.”
Jean’s eyes glint again in that mean, pretty way you saw earlier. You did good, you did good for him. “Much better. Get on the floor.”
You slide off of your mattress, practically buzzing with anticipation, settling on your knees in front of him. A low groan rumbles in Jean’s chest.
“Look so good like that, my pretty girl.”
Oh, you really like that, nuzzling against his hand on your head. Jean smiles down at you, inching his pants down until that little thatch of brown hair starts revealing itself. “Open up for me, nice and wide.”
Your jaw’s dropped, mouth open and tongue out, expectant. Jean smiles wider, sharp and dangerous, pulling his cock out for you. He taps the head against your tongue a few times, even slaps you with it, facade faltering for a fraction of a second to gauge your reaction. You’re good for him, sitting still and patient with your mouth still open, a drop of drool starting to slide off the end of your tongue. Jean makes a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a chuckle.
“Oh, you’re an obedient little thing, aren’t you?” Your panties grow impossibly wetter, you wiggle on your thighs under him, earning yourself another slap of his cock on your tongue, heavy and drooling. “Gonna fuck this pretty face, okay?”
You close your mouth around his head, sucking lightly to show your approval. He’s not even touched you, not so much as a kiss, and your brain’s foggy, running like a hamster on a wheel chasing the circular thought of be good, be good, be good. Jean grabs your hair none-too-gently, tugging it at the roots, and starts canting his hips towards your mouth, muttering under his breath about how good you are, how good your mouth feels on him.
You lower your jaw ever so slightly, and before long, Jean’s picking up speed, knocking your gag reflex here and there and making you cough around him. He doesn’t seem overly concerned; in fact, he grins cruelly down at you when he hits an extra-sensitive spot, making you hunch and gag on him.
“Look at my pretty girl, so happy getting her mouth fucked,” he hisses when you moan around him, feeling the vibrations up his cock. He’s moving faster now, rougher than he’s ever been. You’re gagging with some regularity, tears welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill down your cheeks. You expect him to let up, give you some air, but it only spurs him on, and before you know it, there are thick streams of tears running down your face. Your jaw aches, your knees burn, but you stay, letting him use you how he pleases.
“Fucking crying on me,” Jean growls, “my cock too much for you?”
You try to answer with a shake of your head, but he’s relentless, fingers tightening in your hair and cock shoving to the back of your throat, making you retch.
“No, you love it, don’t you? My little crybaby.”
You’re so wet you can feel it gathering on the insides of your thighs, entirely soaked through your panties. You move your hips subtly, this way and that, desperate for friction. Jean notices, pulling out of your mouth but staying connected by a string of your spit.
“You squirming, pretty girl? Need some attention?”
“Yes, sir,” you rasp, nodding eagerly. Jean helps you up onto the bed, lays you back against his chest facing the mirror on top of your wardrobe. It’s a terribly lewd sight; you spread out in front of him, face swollen and teary, the telltale glisten of wetness glittering on your thighs.
Jean slides a hand down your body, rubbing you over your panties and nibbling at your ear. “You’re gonna watch me make you cum, and if I see you look away, I’m fucking you ‘til I cum, and you’re not getting a damn thing. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” your voice wobbles pathetically. Jean seems to like it; his cock twitches in interest against your back. He pushes your panties to the side, flicking his fingers faster over your clit. Embarrassingly enough, you’re already nearing your halfway point from the face-fucking, moaning and grinding up into his palm.
“Need something?”
“Mhm,” you grit out, jaw clenched. Jean slaps your pussy; not too hard, but firm enough to make you jolt, bring you a moment of clarity.
“Manners,” he reminds you sharply.
“I’m sorry, I– can I please have a finger?”
Jean’s placated, slides one finger into you and laughs hot against your neck at the obscene sound that tears from your throat. “What do we say when we get what we ask for?”
“Thank you– fuck, thank you,” your words are coming out in puffs of breathe. Jean has long, skilled fingers, a fact you’re already familiar with, but the position he’s put you in has you dripping onto the sheets: forcing you to watch as he pumps in and out of you, grinding into your clit with the heel of his hand. You’ll be lucky if you last another minute.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? My pretty girl likes being full, right?” Jean murmurs, hot against the shell of your ear. “Tell me.”
“Yes, sir, I– I like it, I need– fuck!”
“What do you need?” Jean coos, entertained, as if he’s not unraveling you with just the one.
“I want one m-more finger, please,” you stutter, relieved you’re able to get the words out at all.
“Learning so fast,” Jean kisses your shoulder, granting your wish. His fingers are thick, the slight stretch making you throw your head back against his shoulder, hips rolling into his hand of their own accord. “Still looking?”
You force your head back to its upright position, mindful of the threat in his tone. His fingers work faster at your obedience, curling insistently against the gummy spot inside your walls that makes you see stars, makes you a little out of your mind with need. It’s that out-of-mind dizziness in your head that causes your little slip-up:
“Fuck, please, more- more, Daddy.”
Jean’s fingers still; it’s not until you’re halfway into a whine of disappointment that you realize what you’ve said. Your face burns; you meet his eyes in the mirror, yours shot wide and embarrassed. You trip over your words, trying to explain yourself. That definitely hadn’t been mentioned in your earlier conversation.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, I just–”
“Just what? Already so fucked out you can’t think straight?” Jean curls his fingers pointedly against your walls, punching a groan from your chest.
“Yeah,” you sigh, head growing cloudy again.
“Say it again.” That definitely isn’t what you expect to hear him mutter against your neck. Jean works a third finger into your cunt with some difficulty, stretching you to your limits. “Fucking say it, or you’re not cumming.”
“Oh my God, D-Daddy,” your cries are pathetic, punctuated by whimpers. The bubble in your stomach is about to pop, the tension growing unbearable. You’re almost there, grinding into his hand pitifully and babbling, when Jean takes one of his hands to grab your throat roughly. He holds you captive, staring at your own stretched cunt on display for you in the mirror.
“Good, good girl,” he says, “now watch Daddy make you cum.”
The band inside you snaps viciously; your back arches away from him, and you squirt, gushing all over your bed sheets, inhuman sounds tearing from your throat where you struggle under his hand. Jean’s working you through the whole thing, still steadily pumping his fingers and whispering dirty little nothings into your ear. It finally begins to quiet, overstimulation washing over you. You push urgently at his wrist, mumbling something or other about “too much, too much”.
Jean mercifully obliges, pulling his hand from you with a shameful sucking sound, giving your pussy another light slap.
“Such a good girl for me, yeah? How you feelin’?”
“Good, so good,” you slur, “I’ve never– never…”
“Never squirted?” Jean’s eyebrows shoot up at your answering nod before a smug expression settles over his face. “Such a fun little toy, aren’t you? Just wait, you’ll get used to it soon enough.”
Your cunt clenches around nothing; so he can make you do that? Again? Jean’s slid out from behind you and is repositioning your limp body, dragging you down the bed by your ankles to line you up with his cock. He bends your knees up, pressing them close to your head. Jesus, he’s going to kill you at this rate.
“Want me to fuck you?”
“Please,” you hate the begging lilt to your voice, but you’re beyond fighting it. You gave up the reins a long time ago when you knelt for him, let him call you a good girl, let him fuck your throat.
“I’ve got you, pretty girl, Daddy’s gotcha,” Jean starts bullying his way into your pussy, still tight and pulsing from your orgasm. “Shit, got a tight little cunt, don’t you? Feels so good– fuck.”
You’re simpering under him, barely able to process the stretch of his cock in you. He’s well-endowed and you’re overwhelmed, a dizzying combination for your fucked-out brain to handle. Just when you think he might be in your throat he’s so deep in you, his hips press to the back of your thighs, both of you letting out a long groan at the feeling.
“So pretty,” Jean muses, not moving yet, just placing a thumb on your clit and absentmindedly playing with it, “such a beautiful pussy.”
You whine, frustrated. He glares at you, landing a harsh smack to your inner thigh.
“I’m not going to warn you again.”
“Please fuck me, oh God, please,” you pant, past the point of humility. Jean licks his lips, presses his palms deep into the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half. He gives you what you ask for.
You’re jolted back and forth on the mattress, mouth hung open in a silent scream as he splits you open on him, forces every inch deep into you. His tip’s kissing your cervix, pain blooming in your abdomen, but you don’t even care, so lost in the rhythm of his hips.
“Jean, I– oh my God,” you try to tell him how good he feels, but all you get is a firm hand around your throat.
“Who’s fucking this pretty cunt up, hm? Fucking you good and deep? Who is it?”
“Daddy,” you choke out, breathless, “Daddy’s.”
“There you go,” Jean’s focused on where you’re connected, eyes never leaving the frothy white ring forming around the base of his cock. You’re crying again, vaguely aware of the streams of tears running down your temples, into your hairline, but fuck, he just feels so good your brain can’t even process it. Jean takes notice, wipes one of your tears and licks it off of his thumb. “Cute fucking crybaby, all happy and cockdrunk, aren’t you?”
You whimper some semblance of an agreement, feeling the band of tension in you already getting stretched to a breaking point. He’s at an angle that allows him to hammer into the most delicious spot inside of you, rubbing against it with each thrust.
“Gonna cum soon, I– I’m gonna cum soon,” you manage, locking his gaze.
“Let me feel it, go on, do it for me,” Jean pants, squeezing your neck tighter. The lack of air goes to your head; the room spins until all you can focus on is him pounding into you. You cum violently, throbbing around his cock, thrashing against his strong arms. Jean fucks you through it, never losing his pace. “Good fucking girl, just like that.”
You’re practically wheezing as your senses return to you, clawing at Jean’s arm on your throat. He lets up on your neck, smiling down at you. “Feel good?”
“Mhm,” you hum, blissed out and half-asleep until Jean flips you, forcing you to prop up on your hands and knees. “Wait, Jean–”
“Wait?” Jean scoffs, sliding back into you. You let out a little cry, and he smacks your ass sharply. “This is what you asked for, right? Said I was being too nice to you.”
“I didn’t– oh my god…” your eyes roll back into your head, a well-placed thrust cutting your words off. “It’s so…it’s so much, Jean.”
Jean lands three more sharp slaps to your ass, already thrusting into you at a brutal pace. “What was that?”
“T-too much, Daddy,” you collapse, face shoved into the bed to mask the pitiful cries leaving your mouth. It is too much; if you tuck your chin to your chest, you can see a little bulge in your tummy where he’s fucking into you, another orgasm already building in the pit of your stomach. You feel like you might pass out if he makes you cum again, but he’s ruthless.
“Too much?” Jean coos, fisting your hair to turn your face. He’s glaring down at you. “You were practically begging me for it, and my pretty girl gets what she wants, right? Said you wanted it rough, so you’re going to fucking take it.”
You nod miserably, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Jean hisses when you clamp down around him. “Squeezing me so goddamn tight, this pussy.”
You feel a hand start thrumming insistently against your clit and nearly shriek; your pussy’s so swollen, so sensitive already. You claw at the bedsheets, feeling something warm and wet swelling inside of you.
“Daddy, I– fuck, it’s, it’s–”
“Gonna make you squirt again,” it’s a promise from behind your ear, “you’re gonna squirt on my cock and Daddy’ll cum for you, okay?”
“I can’t, I–” you’re wailing, words cut off by your own moans. Jean loves it, you can feel his thrusts growing more urgent against your hips, so deep in you you could choke.
“You can,” he corrects you, hand moving faster, “want Daddy to cum in you?”
“Yes, please, p-please,” You cry, letting him use you as he wishes. 
“I’ll give it to you, gotta cum first, you can do that, can’t you? Taking me so well, pretty girl, just need you to cum one more time for me.”
“Uh-huh,” the edges of your vision are starting to close in. He’s ruthless, hips slamming into yours hard enough to bruise, cock stretching you out so nicely, you can’t hold it, but you know, somewhere deep in this primal part of your brain, you need to be good, need to ask him. “Need to cum, Daddy, please– please let me, I–”
“Go ahead,” Jean shushes you, hips moving impossibly faster, “be a good girl, let me feel it.”
That tips you over the edge and Jean makes good on his promise; your cum is dripping out of you, spraying onto his thighs and ruining your sheets. You’re thrashing your head back and forth and sobbing through your orgasm, pinned and powerless under him. Jean swears at the vice-like grip you have on him; it doesn’t take him long to follow suit, pressing himself as deep as he can go, cumming in you. He bends over you as he does, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to him, kissing you hard in a mess of tongue and teeth. You feel it warming your stomach, moaning appreciatively until you both collapse in a sweaty mess of limbs, gasping for breath and clutching onto one another.
Jean allows himself a few moments to catch his breath, and then he’s pulling out of you, leaving you empty and whimpering. He shushes you, holding you close to his chest and letting you work through the intense session in his arms. You’ve never been so fucked out, nuzzling into his chest and simply letting him hold you, letting the aftershocks wrack through your sore body. After a few minutes you’re coming to; the haze begins to lift, and you peek up at him, unsure of where to start after…that.
“You okay?”
You turn the words over in your mouth before you can get them out, still feeling a bit like you’re floating. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. That was…wow.”
Jean, the man that just held you down and forced what were probably life-threatening orgasms out of you, blushes. “Yeah, it was really something.”
“Yeah, it was,” you agree, giggling despite yourself. Your mind is still a little cloudy, a little soft after everything. “But it was good. So good.”
“Yeah?” Jean grins, hoisting you up into his lap so you can both sit up, still cradling you to his chest. “Not too gentle, was I?”
Your face grows hot, you want to hide it behind your hands. “No, not too gentle.”
“You were right earlier,” he admits, “I was definitely holding out on you just because the way I like to…I mean, I don’t think I need to get too into it, you were there. It can be a lot. Didn’t want to push you too far.”
You hum contentedly, playing with the little gold chain he always wears. “I understand that now, but I’m a big girl. I can handle whatever you want to give me, promise.”
“Don’t say that,” Jean groans, “too tired for round two.”
Your hand falls into the mess between your thighs, and you wince. “Maybe after a shower?”
“Greedy,” Jean tuts, scooping you up with him to make the journey over to your bathroom, “my greedy, pretty girl.”
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mochimooon · 22 days
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handsy - jean kirstein x reader 18+
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Jean really likes to finger-fuck you. 'Nuff said. notes - established relationship. this came to me suddenly one morning and possessed me to write this on the fly. Zero plot, barely edited, minor POV switch, just filth :) warnings - explicit content, vaginal fingering, pervy! jean word count - 1800+
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Jean is a handsy man. Or rather he’s a shameless perv – your words not his. 
Then again, it’s hard for Jean to deny that. He can’t help it, never with you, not with the body you have. Moreso, he loves touching you. 
The feel of your body, molding into his touch. The softness of your flesh, the roundness of your tits so fun to grope and pert nipples, too cute to not pinch. And then there’s that neck of yours, always adorned with a chain or necklace that calls his attention, a vampire that needs to sink his teeth into. He can’t forget those legs of yours. How they bend and stretch, looking so pretty wrapped around his waist and neck.
It's no secret, Jean loves to touch you in the most lewd ways. He calls it worship, you call it shameless. 
To-may-to, to-mah-to. Because despite your bravado, you enjoy being spoiled by him, fending him off with lighthearted attempts. 
But there is a line that you’ve been forced to draw, one that Jean crosses again and again and again. 
It’s just not fair, he thinks. Of course, he’s more than thrilled to have you in any way that he can, but he wants to draw his own line that crosses over yours. Because pray tell, why it’s such an issue that Jean, more than anything else, fucking loves to finger you. 
After you had swatted his hand away for the nth time during a dinner date, you demanded to know why he wanted to finger you constantly. 
It was the first time, Jean had to think about it. There’s just something so naughty about sneaking his hand where it shouldn’t go. It’s perverted, he acknowledges that, and that’s what makes it the most fun. Something everyone’s taught— keep your hands to yourself. Jean likes doing the opposite with you. 
The feel of your pussy pulsing around his digits, walls clamping down on his knuckles, it makes Jean delirious.
Jean’s a glutton for every single response you make. From the various ways you utter his name. 
With a surprised gasp, “Jean!”
An annoyed, click of your tongue. “Jean…”
A hushed tone. “Jean.”
When you’re cumming on his fingers, moaning out, “Jean!”
Annoyed, worried, aroused, Jean loved every bit of it. Seeing your face screwed with pleasure despite bad timing (again your words. There’s no such thing as bad timing for him), nothing you could say or do would deter him from not fingering you. 
The cycle never ends. He slides a hand up your skirt or dips his fingers into your jeans, and his touch makes itself at home in your wet pussy, all while you try to bat him away.
Today is no different. At a party with close friends, Jean had been extra touchy-feely with you, forecasting his habit. He managed to stave off for a few hours as you mingled with others, while he gave you some space only to resurface like an overactive puppy in desperate need of a walk. 
But midway through, he snatched you up the stairs and into Connie’s bedroom, hands lifting the end of your dress. 
You smack his chest. “Jean – no! Bad!”
He snorts, dropping his hands in feigned innocence. “Baby, I’m not a dog.”
“Yes, yes, you are. We’re at a party, just cool it for tonight or else.”
He dug his hands into his pockets, but you keep a close eye on them. “What do you mean or else?” His voice drips with curiosity, wiping away his impish grin. 
“Or else, no touching for a while. No sex.” Jean’s mouth drops, but you cut him off. “I’m not messing around. You can’t just finger me with other people around.”
“Why can’t I finger you here then?” He sways on his heels, looking around to indicate how it’s empty. “I was on my best behavior. Didn’t slip my hand up your dress once tonight.”
You scoff, folding your arms. “No, but you were very touchy. Didn’t you hear Sasha tell us to get a hotel?”
He steps forward, hands still buried in his pockets. He’s being cautious, you can tell because you step back. “What’s wrong with wanting to touch my girlfriend?”
You clench your jaw to stop you from repeating the same thing. It’s a strategy that has worn you down in the past. Jean will beg, ‘but why not?’ on loop, using that charming smile of his to pepper kisses along your face, and your vestige would melt every time. 
No, you tell yourself, watching him closely, ready to grab his hands when they leave his pockets. 
He looms closer, gaze spilling onto your face. “I just want to touch you. I mean, look at you.” Light brown eyes rake you up and down. “You deserve an orgasm looking that good. Are you saying you don’t want one?”
It’s not fair how weak you are to the look he gives you. And the simple words of wanting to spoil you twists in your mind and curls down to your stomach, lighting that familiar spark. 
No. You need to stand firm. This is good for the both of you. “It’s not going to work this time.”
“But – ”
“Uh-uh.” You shake your head. “It was cute the first couple of times, but I’m drawing a line.”
He pouts, a plea in his eyes. 
You avert his gaze, unable to trust yourself, and it takes more restraint when Jean steps closer, kissing your hairline. 
“Let me make you feel good. I just want my baby to relax.” He trails his lips to your forehead, down your nose in an innocent gesture, then finds your jaw. “C’mon. Say yes.”
You bite back a mewl, conflict only making you warmer. No matter how many times he’s touched you, Jean leaves you spellbound like the first time you met. 
“Say yes…” he purrs into your lips. 
The words steep into your mind, so close to reaching your tongue. But you catch the sound of others walking by, reminded of where you are. You blink, taking stock of the bedroom. Jean, however, doesn’t care about any of that, kissing the corner of your mouth. 
“Jean…”
“Uh-huh…” His voice trails towards victory. 
“Not here.”
He pulls back, throwing his head back with a deep sigh, a look of defeat. You bristle with regret, yet stunned that Jean actually relented. 
He lowers his head, a glimmer flashing in his gaze that sends a shudder down your spine. 
It’s too late to stop his hands; they’ve freed themselves from his pockets and grab hold of your hips. You expect to be thrown on the bed, only for the floor to jostle in your sights. 
Jean holds you securely over his shoulder, hooking an arm along the back of your knees. The other is on the move, lifting your dress and pulling your underwear off. 
“Jean – ” You wriggle, though afraid you’ll fall. 
Jean’s too strong to let that happen, even more determined to keep you in his clutches. Your panties are slipped past your ankles and tossed somewhere you can’t see. He pats your bare ass, giving the side a kiss. 
Without preamble, you feel the drag of his finger along your slit, whining out. 
“You’re soaking. You see, you just need an orgasm.” Jean’s tone is shadowed with lust. 
“Jean, wait – ” you gasp, unable to negotiate, cut off with the push of two fingers. Your pussy flutters, stretching with a sting that sculpts around his knuckles. “Ah –”
“I’ll make you feel good.” Jean’s fingers pump into you deeply, the pad of his thumb reaching for your clit. 
“Ah – ah – ” You’re already so dizzy, melting like clay at Jean’s deft fingers. It’s a first to be finger-fucked like this, but he’s skillful as always, you can’t blame this man for wanting to finger you. He’s a master at it. “Jean—”
He hums, pulling back his fingers until the tips tease your entrance. You miss the fullness of his touch already and you wriggle again, clutching onto the back of his shirt. “I’ll keep going, only if you say you love being fingered by me.”
You whimper, finding a way to grind down onto his fingers in the position you’re in. It feels impossible, only reaching the brush of his fingertips. 
“Say it,” Jean says, pressing onto your clit. “Say, ‘I love it when you finger me’.”
You don’t know what it is about this time that hits different. On his lap, on your back, on your feet, Jean never fails to make you come undone on his hand. But over his shoulder, reliant on his hold, your stomach burns, your pussy dripping. 
“Say it,” Jean repeats. “I want to touch you bad. But I want you tell me that you love getting fingered by me.”
You feel one finger plunge inside, nowhere near enough. “Jean, please, finger me.”
“Gladly, but that’s not what I want to hear. C’mon, don’t be stubborn. We don’t have all night. The party’s going to end in an hour, and Connie will need his bedroom at some point. Of course, I can always tell him that we’re busy.”
You scoff but it’s strained. Doing a sweep of your surroundings, you’re dizzy, voice lost.
“C’mon. You can do it. Just tell me you like how I finger you…” 
You moan at the press of his fingertips teasing your hole. The moment drags out and you ache for reprieve. “I – I love – when you finger me – ”
“That’s my girl.” Triumph laces Jean’s murmur and he rewards you with three fingers, thrusting into you while his thumb rubs at your center. “You deserve an orgasm now.”
Your fingers claw Jean’s shirt, toes-curling as you’re struck with ecstasy. You moan out, wrinkling Jean’s shirt to stabilize you. 
The moment passes, a crashing of a wave returning to the sleepy ocean. You fall limp, boneless and satisfied. 
Jean slides you to your feet, keeping you steady. You peer up behind a lidded gaze, gratitude in your smile. 
He strokes your face, taking his soaked fingers in his mouth. “I could finger-fuck you every second of every day.”
You smile weakly, leaning into his chest. The moment is short-lived. Your back sinks into the mattress with Jean crawling over your body, prying your thighs apart. 
You give him a dumbfounded look, slow to realize what he’s already had in store. 
He cups your pussy, teasing your entrance again. He flits a look up, mischief caught in his eyes. “Give me another one and I’ll keep my hands to myself for the rest of the night.” You’re too weak to argue, already bucking your hips at the renewed pleasure Jean pumps into you. His words evade you, as you and Jean both know that keeping his hands off you is a false promise. You swallow your pride, because he's not wrong, you wouldn't dream of him keeping his hands off you.
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kingkonoha · 1 year
Note
ave i will literally scream cry and throw up and die if you write smthin spicy like the connie hating your bf thing about jean ………
WANT YOU ALL TO MYSELF
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➙ pairing: jean x fem!reader
➙ content: 18+ only, nsfw/smut, modern au, swearing, smoking, drinking, kissing, jealousy, raw sex, creampie, spanking, punishment, multiple orgasms, oral, masturbation.
➙ description: you’re always sleeping with random guys. jean’s pissed off about it.
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Jean Kirstein was fucking jealous of the men you brought into your bedroom.
He was your neighbor, and he’d sit on his porch, smoking his cigarette, and watch as you’d bring home a different guy to fuck and kick out every now and then.
Afterwards, you’d call him and whine about how none of those useless men could satisfy you, and about how you’d have to get yourself off once they left.
He imagined you taking that cute purple vibrator and placing it gently on your clit, your face all cute and flustered as your senses were flooded from your self-given orgasm.
He’d kill to hear those sweet little moans. He jerked off to the thought, only to be flooded with anger over having to pump his fist instead of pumping inside of you.
Jean is…not exactly friendly. When one of your late night hookups mistakenly knocked on his door instead of yours, asking for you with slurred speech and a can of beer in his hands, Jean punched the guy in his stupid face, telling him to get off his porch.
Turns out, you ended up calling Jean to complain about your hookup never showing up, and Jean jumped on the opportunity to invite himself over.
You answered the door wearing a thin robe, undoubtedly covering some of your sexist black lingerie.
It pissed Jean off knowing that it was originally meant for someone else, but it didn’t really matter. He was gonna yank it off of you anyways.
You looked entirely too cute in that robe of yours, especially when the both of you were sitting on the couch, sipping on wine. He would’ve preferred whiskey, but if this was what you served all of your late night fuckers, he was more than happy to sip on that beverage.
Especially when you were ranting to him about men again, that cute little pout appearing upon your face.
He didn’t really give a shit. He was more than fed up with your sob stories, and he decided to shut you up permanently by catching you by surprise with a passionate kiss.
Your surprised gasp caused you to open your sweet little mouth widely enough for him to slip his tongue in, swirling it around yours as he snaked his large hand around your neck to hold you still.
God, your mouth was so warm and wet, he couldn’t help but moan. He pulled away, leaving a few kisses down your neck.
“Tired of you always talking about those useless fuckboys. How ‘bout you take my dick for once, yeah?”
Holy shit, did you take it.
Your pussy clenched around his cock like it was made for him and him alone. He held your legs back until your knees almost touched your chest, harshly thrusting into you until your headboard smacked against the wall repeatedly.
“That’s it, baby. Take that fucking dick.” He moaned in your ear.
Yeah, he wanted to hear those precious moans of yours, but they’d have to wait, because when he fucked you like this, he had his tongue down your throat, swallowing all of your cute noises.
He slammed into you with lust, anger, and jealousy. He had that perfect angle, and when his thrusts became more messy, you were cumming all over his cock.
That sent him over the edge, and he spilled his seed deep inside of you, only pulling to see his cum pooling out of your hole.
He pulled away with a string of spit falling from your connected lips.
His lips attacked your neck, and he sucked on the sensitive skin. He marked your neck because you belonged to him now, and he’ll be damned if he didn’t leave you with the hickeys to prove it.
As badly as he wanted to taste you, you didn’t deserve to cum on his tongue just yet. You see, Jean believes in punishments, and the tall man yanked you across his lap. He was gonna teach you a little lesson over making him put up with your bullshit.
He teasingly ran a hand over your bare ass. Everything about you was just so precious and cute, especially when you innocently asked him what he was doing.
He figured that none of your boy toys ever did something like this.
The yelp that ripped from your throat instantly hardened his cock, but he wasn’t done. He spanked you with his big hand until he was satisfied.
Satisfied with that, at least.
“You’re gonna clean my cock off for me, right, baby?”
Your eager nod made him smirk as he pulled down his pants, and he was quick to shove his hot meat down your throat. He roughly thrusted himself in and out of your mouth, gripping your head to further choke you on his cock. He swore and grunted.
He came down your throat with a sweet moan of your name.
You didn’t have enough time to catch your breath before he was picking you up and tossing you back on the bed. You tried to sit up on the mattress, but he pushed you right back down and spread your legs wide open.
Now, he was ready to treat himself to your delicious pussy.
Jean definitely moans while eating you out. He’s a hungry boy after all, and you just taste so damn good.
He sucks your clit until it’s sore, and he doesn’t care if you’re squirming to get away because it’s too much. You’re going to cum again, again, and again on his tongue and he’s holding you still the entire time, his eyes watching your pretty face.
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♡ thanks for reading!
♡ don’t forget to like, reblog, & comment!
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slvtmeout · 9 days
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I need him to breed me and tell me that I’m his good little girl. I need him to absolutely destroy me treat me like a whore and then cuddle me to sleep and kiss my forehead :3 I need the no protection no lube all night comments to become real. Need him to slap me for every time I try to say something and fill me with his cvm to the brim.
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daisynik7 · 7 months
Note
Could you possibly do: Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado for Jean Kirstein - Smut (stg he needs more love on this app)
Promiscuous
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Pairing: Jean x f!reader
Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Word Count: ~2.7k
cw: frenemies-to-lovers trope, one bed (in this case, tent) trope, modern day au, explicit language, smut – mutual masturbation, fingering, hand job
Summary: During your annual camping trip with your friends, you find out a little too late that the tent you brought with you is broken. With everyone’s already occupied, you’re forced to share one with Jean, who you don’t exactly get along with. Maybe sharing a small space together for one night will change that. 
Author’s Note: Hi anon! Thank you for your request for the y2k karaoke party! This idea is somewhat inspired by my main man AugustInTheWinter’s “Trapped in Your Asshole Friend’s Tent” (reddit link, +18)  except mine is more of a teaser if anything, since there’s no actual sex, hehe. I hope you like this one! I don’t write for Jean often, but when I do, I always have so much fun! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated! Thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/mikeykuns.
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Your tent is busted, and of course you only find out about it as you unpack it on the campsite, finding it torn up and unusable. You turn to Sasha, panicking. “It’s broken!”
She kneels down to inspect it, looking at all the parts. “There’s nothing you can do to fix it?”
“Everything is in pieces. It’s completely useless. Do you have room in your tent?”
She shakes her head. “I’m sleeping in Connie’s. And Mikasa, Armin, and Eren are squeezing into one. Which leaves only Jean – ”
“No,” you say with emphasis. “No way.”
Sasha rolls her eyes. “Come on. You’re only in there for a few hours each night, that’s it! Set your differences aside for once! Unless you want to sleep out in the cold.”
“I think I’d rather freeze to death and get eaten by a bear than share a tent with him,” you state, crossing your arms over your chest. 
She chuckles, taking a bite out of a baked potato she has stored in her pocket. “Fine. I’ll be sure to write that in your obituary.” She walks away from you, joining Connie by their tent, helping him set it up while you stand there, defiant, and all-too-stubborn. You look over to their right to see the EMA trio working together to assemble their big tent, but still not big enough to house a fourth person. Then, on the other side, furthest away from the others, is Jean. 
You seriously weigh your options, eventually deciding that death by the elements is worse by the tiniest margin than sleeping next to Jean. So you walk up to him, tapping on the thin fabric, pretending to knock. “Kirstein,” you call out when there’s no answer.
He unzips the entrance, glaring at you. “What do you want?”
You clear your throat, putting on the nicest voice you can possibly muster. “Do you have room for me in there?” You even bat your eyelashes, feeling more pathetic that you already do.
“What?!” he snaps, standing up to confront you. 
“My tent is broken and there’s no room in the other’s, so…”
“Fuck no,” he states, a little harsher than usual. 
“C’mon, Kirstein! It’s just for two nights!”
“Then sleep outside.”
“I promise I’ll be good!” you whine, putting your hands together in prayer, pleading. “You won’t even know I’m here.”
“Oh, I’ll definitely know you’re here,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose, irritated. He yells out across the way. “Sash, Connie! There’s really no room in there for her?”
Connie answers, “Nope!”
“Mikasa, how about in your – ”
“No,” she responds immediately, the other two boys shaking their heads to confirm.
Jean groans, scratching his head anxiously, as if this is the worst thing he’s ever had to consider. Eventually, he mutters a contemptuous, “Fine. But we’re not sharing sleeping bags.”
“I never said anything about sleeping bags!” you protest. 
“I’m just saying!”
Not wanting to argue more, you ease up. “Okay, okay. Thank you. Seriously, Kirstein. I really do appreciate it.” You attempt to give him the most genuine smile you can manage. All he does is roll his eyes, zipping the entrance closed.
The rest of the day goes by smoothly. After setting up camp, you all go for an easy hike on a nearby trail. Jean doesn’t interact with you, which is typical behavior from him. You can’t pinpoint the exact reason why he dislikes you so much; it didn’t start this way when you first met him several years ago through Sasha. But the more you hung out with them, the colder he’s gotten towards you. Because of this, you decided to act the same towards him, causing this hostile relationship between you two. Maybe sharing a tent tonight is a good opportunity to let bygones be bygones and finally get along.
Back at camp, you gather around the fire to roast hot dogs for dinner. Jean sits across from you, a serious expression on his face as he focuses on cooking his meal. You study him, watching the flames reflect in his eyes. He’s handsome, that’s for sure; sharp jawline, luscious brown locks on his head, an impressive stature. If he wasn’t such an asshole, you could see yourself being friendly with him, maybe even more. The thought makes you smile to yourself. He meets your gaze for a brief moment, startling you. You quickly turn your head to the side, pretending to be interested in the dirt on the ground, hoping he didn’t catch you staring. 
By midnight, with your bellies nourished with a hot dogs, potato chips, and s’mores for dessert, you all decide to call it a night. Armin and Eren put out the fire while the rest of you do a thorough job disposing any trash and putting away any of the remaining food. Everyone gets ready for bed in their designated spots around the wilderness. You especially take your time, wanting to stall as much as possible so you don’t have to interact with your tent-mate. 
Eventually, you’re the only one left outside and there’s nothing left for you to do but head in. As you walk into the tent, you quietly step inside, noticing Jean already curled in his sleeping bag to the farthest side he can reach, leaving plenty of space for you. He’s wrapped in an additional blanket, head resting on a fluffy pillow, expression the most relaxed you’ve ever seen. You grin, appreciating how cute he looks like this. 
You nestle into your sleeping bag, adjusting your pillow before you find a comfortable position to sleep in. Even with it zipped up and surrounding you, it’s still chilly enough that your teeth chatter. Holding yourself tightly, you rub your arms, hoping to create enough friction to warm yourself up.  
From the other side, you hear Jean’s familiar groan, then shuffling. Suddenly, you feel something thick envelop you. You crane your neck to see Jean near you now, his blanket covering you both. He faces you with that scowl on his face, eyes closed. “I’m only sharing so that you don’t keep me up all night,” he says.
You roll over to turn your body towards him, closer than you’ve ever been before. “Thank you,” you murmur, snuggling into your pillow. 
He doesn’t say anything else, probably drifting off to sleep by now. Although you’re warm enough, you still can’t fall into a slumber the way you want. Not with Jean so near you, pretty eyelashes fluttering, soft lips parted slightly; he is really handsome. Your chest swells, heat rushes into your cheeks. As quietly as you can, praying that he’s actually asleep, you whisper, “I’m sorry, Jean. For whatever I did to make you hate me so much.” You say it more for yourself if anything. Even if he can’t hear you, at least you’ve put it out there for the universe. 
“I don’t hate you.” It startles you when he says it in a low, gruff voice, eyes still closed. 
You swallow hard, not sure if you should continue this conversation, or let it end here. Not wanting to waste this opportunity, you decide to respond. “You don’t?”
This time, he opens his eyes slowly, blinking at you. “No. You’re annoying, irritating, always completely unprepared. But I don’t hate you.”
“Gee, thanks,” you mutter, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. “Sorry for always being such a nuisance to you. I’ll be sure to leave you alone now.”
He sighs. “You’re not always a nuisance, okay? And besides, you’re the one who acts like you hate me.”
“I only do that because you did it to me first,” you argue. “I don’t even know what I did to annoy you in the first place. Tell me.”
“If I start now, we’ll be up all night,” he smirks, looking smug. 
“Seriously, what did I ever do to you? I need to know so I can apologize formally.” 
He stares at you, contemplating his answer. You wait with anticipation, nervous for what he’s about to say. Eventually, he admits, “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”
More confused now, you ask, “Then why do you treat me like I did?”
He sighs again, this time even deeper. “I don’t know.”
You scoot closer to him instinctually, studying his face as if that will give you a clearer answer. “You don’t know?”
He’s caught off guard by the closing distance between you. “I don’t know,” he repeats, stammering. “I just…”
Closer now, your nose mere inches from his, the heat radiating from his body towards you. “Just what?”
He gulps loudly before leaning forward, pressing his lips to yours in a delicate kiss. You don’t immediately pull back, indulging in the intimate touch until his tongue slips into your mouth. It shocks you, not because you don’t like it, but because of how much you do. You break apart, catching your breath. “What are you…” you trail off, fixated on his lips, slightly shiny now from your spit.  
He unzips his sleeping bag, freeing his hands to reach for you, caressing your cheek. “If you don’t like it, tell me now and I’ll stop.” His thumb brushes against your skin, electrifying every nerve in your body. 
You wiggle out of your confines to touch him too, placing your hands on hands on his chest, clenching his t-shirt in your fists. Something comes over you. Curiosity, lust, temptation, you’re not quite sure. All you know is that you want to keep kissing him, keep touching him, and save the explaining for later. It doesn’t have to make sense right now; all you want is to feel good. 
“Don’t stop,” you whisper, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s sloppier this time, his tongue flicking against yours, eager for a taste of you. His hand travels down your body, sliding around your waist beneath your pajama top. It ignites your skin, forgetting any ounce of coldness that occupied your body just moments before. 
“On top,” he huffs, fingers digging into your flesh. “Get on top of me.”
You obey, spreading his sleeping bag open, seeing the prominent bulge protruding from his sweats. You straddle his lap, grinding yourself on him, rubbing your clothed pussy along his shaft. He grips your waist with both his hands, watching you rock against him, biting his lip with a crazed look in his eyes. “Fuck,” he breathes out, brows furrowed in concentration, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. If you had known it would be like this, maybe the two of you wouldn’t have wasted so much time berating each other. You could have spent the last few years doing this instead.
You lean down, kissing him passionately while you continue to ride him with your clothes on. He’s unbelievably hard beneath you now, his big cock straining against the fabric. Your arousal leaks into your panties, wet and ready for him. His hands glide to your bottom, squeezing your cheeks in his hands. Soon, his fingers are hooked on your waistband, tugging them down your thighs, coaxing you to strip. You hop off him, rolling to his side to properly remove your pants, him doing the same next to you. Both of you are naked from the waist down now, lying beside each other. You reach between your legs, rubbing your fingers on your clit. He watches, fist wrapped around his cock, stroking it feverishly. “I didn’t know you were like this,” he whispers, biting his lip to hold back his moans. “Fuck, if I had known I…I would have – ”
“What, Jean? What would you have done?” you ask, playing with yourself faster, watching him jerk himself off.
“I would have fucked you so much sooner. Make you my slut.”
“You want to slut me out? Is that what you want?”
“Yeah. But only for me. I only want you to be a slut for me.”
You reach for him with your wet fingers, replacing his hand with yours, stroking him slowly. He moans, eyes blown wide at the sight. “Come here,” he beckons, stretching his hand towards your pussy. “I want to make you feel good too.”
Kneeling beside him, you guide him to you, teasing your clit with his palm. “God, you’re so fucking wet. Can I fuck you with these fingers, baby?”
The pet name is unexpected from his mouth, but it spurs you on. You nod, lifting up slightly to sink down on his middle finger while his thumb nudges your clit. A moan escapes you, unable to keep quiet. He chuckles softly, shushing you. “You don’t want the others to know you’re getting finger-fucked by me, do you? You better be quiet.” 
You stay like this, Jean’s fingers pumping in and out of your cunt while he fucks your fist. Aching for a new position, you release him, pulling him out of you so that you can straddle his lap again, this time completely nude. 
He stammers, clearly nervous. “Oh fuck, should we…?”
There is no lube, nor are there any condoms around you. It would be a bad idea to have sex under these conditions, though temptation is testing you, especially with how far you’ve already gotten. As badly as you want to be fucked, you decide not to. “Not tonight. But that doesn’t mean we can’t feel good, right?” You flick the tip of his cock on your clit, your core tight with pleasure from the intimate contact. 
He relaxes into his sleeping bag, watching you with a dazed expression on his face, moaning as you grind your pussy along his shaft, hand nestled underneath his cock, stroking him simultaneously. “Fuck, you really know what you’re doing, huh?”
“Is that bad?” you ask, slowing your pace.
He smiles, shaking his head. “Not at all. I just didn’t expect you to be so promiscuous.” He reaches towards you, massaging your clit with his thumb. 
You whine from his touch, rocking back and forth on his shaft, almost inclined to sink down on his cock anyways. “Maybe I’m only like this with you.”
He continues to grin at you, caressing your sensitive bud faster. “Yeah, maybe you are.”
You stay like this until his cock pulsates beneath you, shooting spurts of cum onto his stomach. Soon, you’re coming too with his thumb pressed tightly on your clit, rubbing deep into you, gushing all over him. When you’re done riding out your orgasm, you roll off of him, back into your own sleeping bag. Jean stays flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his tent, his breathing gradually returning to a steady pace. The two of you remain silent, equally confused and thrilled about what just occurred. 
You decide to be the one to speak first. “So…”
He turns to you, a kind expression on his face. Have you ever seen this on him before? It puts a flutter in your belly. “So,” he repeats. 
“Should we talk about it?”
“What’s there to talk about?” He scoots closer to you, holding your hand in his.
“This. Us,” you say, interlocking your fingers with his. Who would have though being this way with Jean Kirstein would feel so…natural?
“Right. Us.” He nuzzles his nose to yours. “The truth is, I’ve been a massive asshole to you because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to express his feelings.”
“So, instead, you act like you hate me?”
He points to himself, giving you a goofy grin. “See? Idiot.”
You sigh, squeezing him tighter. “So, you actually like me?”
Smiling, he kisses your cheek. “I do. I’ve liked you for a while. If you give me a chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. If you let me.”
You don’t respond right away, contemplating the situation. Could it really work out between you two after all the petty arguments, snide remarks, contemptuous glares? It is comfortable, being with him like this. It’s better than you ever imagined. 
You snuggle into his chest, surrounding yourself in his warmth and security. “I guess we could give it a shot.”
“Yeah?” He tips your chin up to meet your gaze, smiling big.
“Yeah.”
He brings you towards him to kiss you sweetly, cradling you in his arms. “Thank you.”
You pull away, smirking at him before you whisper, “And next time, you’re going to slut me out properly, right?”
He laughs quietly, biting his lip. “Absolutely.”
591 notes · View notes
chrollohearttags · 8 months
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rockstar!jean loves having you as his assistant. Not just because you’re so efficient and hard working but you’re an absolute sight for sore eyes. The prettiest thing he’s ever seen with a shy and bashful personality…it’s so cute how nervous you get around him, despite the fact you’ve been working for Mr. Kirschtein for three years. It really doesn’t help matters any when he tries to hold a conversation with you and all you can do is keep staring at the ground, stuttering over yourself..it only makes him want to tease you more! “You’re a big girl, aren’t you? Use your words, beautiful. Can’t know what you want if you don’t tell me.” Just making the most normal of conversations sound so sensual and sexy. You’ll be sitting in on some of his practice sessions, watching him grip the neck of that guitar and strum his tattooed fingers along the strings..having thoughts no employee should about their boss. “You like the new song or you just wanna watch me play? Maybe I could teach you sometime.” You could always get lost in thought about him or gazing at that handsome face. Catching him as he comes fresh from a workout; towel draped over his broad shoulders, sweat slicking his tanned skin and his body sculpted from the intense exercises.
a stark comparison to your curvaceous figure; pudgy tummy protruding from your skirt and big, supple breasts perched in a top that’s stretching out far too tight. He can’t help but notice your thighs ripping those stockings underneath them and he’s trying his hardest to remain respectful but he’s definitely getting some ideas of his own. Perspiring and not just from the fifty push-ups. “H-hi, Mr. Kirschtein. I just needed you to sign this for me, please.” Those doe, brown eyes hiding behind round, wire framed glasses and those plump, pouty lips stained with gloss as you mumbled to him. Big, bouffant kinky curls accenting those adorable features including those chubby cheeks he loves. He’s trying not to stare too hard but damnit, you just turn him on so much. Swallowing a hard gulp, he tries to play it cool and grasps the clipboard with said paperwork. “C’mon, (y/n). We’re not strangers..you can call me Jean, y’know? We’ve been working together for three years. I thought we were friends.” “I knowww, but I just don’t feel right, sir.” And honey, does he exploit that little habit of yours. Thinking it’s so cute how you address him. So it comes as no surprise when it’s later in the evening and you’re getting ready to leave for the night that you just so happen to catch the infamous J. Kirschtein leaving a hot, warm, steamy shower..draped in nothing more than a towel that he’s in the midst of unwrapping when you come to ask him one more question. It falls to the floor from the shock and you catch a glimpse..no! An eyeful of what he’s got to offer. “I—I am so sorry, Mr. Kirschtein!” And it’s then that Jean tells you come closer and lock the door because he can answer what you need to know and then some..you’re staring holes through him, admiring every chiseled muscle, every inch of that Adonis like figure and especially…..that!..and you’re practically salivating until he snaps you out of thought with a hand underneath that chin.
“Nothing to apologize for, gorgeous..I mean. I won’t tell if you won’t..”
if you could be completely and totally honest, you had dreamed of a moment like this; where fate would intervene and give you two the opportunity to be alone in such an intimate setting. He can see you squeezing your legs together..more than likely feigning off the twitching and thumping sensations between your thighs. That short little frame underneath him as he places an arm on the wall. If you revealed your salacious, nasty thoughts of what you wanted the famed rocker to do to you, including being hoisted up midair in his arms as he fucks up into you or wetting up his beard as you ride on his tongue, you’d probably be fired….if it were anyone else, of course! But something told you that you didn’t have much to worry about with Jean. In fact, he had a bit of a confession himself.
“You promise?”
“Of course, pretty girl. I mean, if I’m being honest..I’ve wanted you for the longest. If you couldn’t tell..”
and boy, could you tell. Especially when he so delicately nips at the tiny buttons on your shirt that are already about to burst. One more and those juicy, round titties will come spilling out. You’re so stacked and curvy just from the front..heavens knows what he’ll do when you turn around. He inches closer, grazing your inner thigh with that thick cock as you part your legs a bit more and massage his face. He can’t take it when you stare at him all cute like that. “Is it okay if I kiss you?…” gently questioning; hovering only an inch away from your lips and he gets his answer when you cup his cheeks and shove your tongue into his mouth! You’re sloppily kissing him..rutting that little clothed slit against his tip. He can tell just how desperate you are, whimpering and whining as you continue to make out. Your body’s been craving this for so long, you’re so needy and desperate for the touch of someone who can handle you. That much apparent by the stark size difference of you two. Finally bridging the space between your bodies, Jean would slightly lift you up along with the hem of that skirt. It didn’t take long for him to disrobe you down to those very thin fishnets and platform heels that made your legs look amazing.. ripping open the front of that top and eventually tossing you to the bed.
“Mr. Kirschtein, are you sure this is okay?” He couldn’t help but to laugh as he so casually pinned your legs back and snaked that pierced tongue out to run along your thighs. Never in his life did he answer to anyone and he damn sure wasn’t about to now. Besides, he was certain your doubts would fade once he spread that pretty pussy and allows that metal ball glide over your clit. Before you know it, he’s sucking gently on those folds and taking in that delicate, sweet flavor. Those same digits you’d watch and obsess over as they played some of your favorite tunes, played around with your sensitive little cunt. Watching it leak and cream all over his black fingernails and silver bands. “You tell me, pretty girl. Do you really want me to stop?” Peaking up at you over that pudgy little tummy as he rested his forehead against it. “N-no sir!” Which brings forth another toothy smile on that sexy face. He loves how submissive yet needy you are for him! Whimpering and covering your eyes but continuing to rut into his mouth..riding his tongue and creaming all the same..those big, juicy tits bouncing around and those swollen nipples erect from the pleasure and cool air. “Ahhh!—fuck..” “Look at you..cant believe I actually made you cuss. Feel that good, huh?” The same ones he’d stuff in his mouth when he finally moved up to kiss you once more and stuff you full of that stiff cock. Right after tapping it against you just to test the reaction you’d have to him. You were so wet..drenching him in slick before he even slid in. “Can I put it in? C’mon, let me hear you say it, baby..can I fuck you?” The two of you would meet and become one upon your explicit consent; lips melting once more as your arms coiled his neck and legs around his waist. Your answer was as clear as any. Not only did you want him to fuck you but not pull out anytime soon. You wanted to feel every inch…for all the nights you had lied in bed, daydreaming and touching yourself with thoughts of your boss plaguing your mind. “S-shit! You’re so tight, pretty girl. Never knew you’d feel this good.” A couple strokes in and he had you clawing into his back. And you? He’d never felt such warmth before. It were as if he were in heaven. Your flesh clashed, smacking against one another in a passionate haze. “Right there, sir! Don’t stop, please…”
that sweet voice crying out to him and he couldn’t dare quit when you begged him like this! “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you whatever you want…you can have this dick all night.” Listening to him moan and grunt in your ear as he fed you those deep strokes. In a way, you felt it couldn’t be real because there was no way you were his type but in his mind? You were all but created for him. And he’d prove it by making love to you all night…going rounds and taking you beyond your limits; from putting you in a full mating press, a full nelson to truly test that strength of his and even leaning you over the side of his bed; arms stretched back and balanced on nothing more than those heels as he gave you backshots. Drumming orgasm after orgasm out of each other until you both collapsed in one another’s arms.
He’d look over to see you trembling, breathless and in tears..not out of pain but from the overwhelming amount of pleasure. He was so happy to have shared this experience with you and never wanted this night to end. “Hey, you alright?” “Never been better..thank you sir.”
and he hoped that you’d always be by his side. For work or otherwise..
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I Can't Die a Virgin - Jean x Fem!Reader
A/N: I wrote this after three blinkers and I have written fan fiction since I was 13, so I'm sorry if this is ass.
Contains: Virginity loss (M + F), Oral (F + kinda M), implied feelings, Exhibitionism, Cunnilingus, Mutual Masturbation (M + F), Creampie but like not really, Size kink (+ belly bulge), humiliation??, Breeding kink but like really chill, Porn with little to no plot, technically fuck or die??, Fucking in a forest, Tip-sucking ;p, Finger-sucking, Big dick!Jean, Cock drunk!Reader, Pussy drunk!Jean, Jean lovessssss eating pussy, Kinda bully!Jean, Jean lovesssss mocking you, , implied that Jean has done everything but P in V/penetration, Both you and Jean are dominant and submissive in your own ways, Jean’s a head pusher for 1/16 of a second, Jean fucks himself with your panties for like a minute :3
(WC: 4.2k) DAMNNNNNN
Minor and ageless blogs DNI, I'm so serious.
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Tomorrow was the day you and what’s left of your comrades would execute the final part of Eren’s plan and storm Marley. In your eyes, it was a death mission. You couldn’t see yourself making it out alive this time. Your fate was sealed. Tonight, you sit on the cool grass roughly half a mile from your base, chin resting on your knees allowing yourself a final night of peace.
You’ve been out here for a few hours, skin numb from the heavy winds when someone calls your name from behind you.
“What are you doing out here?” Jean.
If you were ever given the chance to love in this lifetime, you imagine you would love Jean. He’s the only person you could ever see yourself being intimate with. Whether it was your first kiss or virginity, you could only envision Jean.
You stopped feeling guilty for thinking of him when you touched yourself in the shower a long time ago. It’s not like he’d know you grip your cunt around your fingers imagining they were his.
“Is everything okay?” he asks following your silence.
“Just thinking.”
You see him sit beside you and stretch his legs from the corner of your eyes. “About what?”
If it were any other night, you would've stayed silent but tonight, you lost the energy to care. To you, your final days start the moment the sun rises.
“All the things I never got the chance to do,” you reply.
Jean was surprised to hear your response. He became used to your silence whenever he attempted to pick your brain. He didn’t show it. He wanted to see how much more you would let him know about after years of prying. For once, he decided to keep his mouth shut having you say whatever you wanted him to know on your own time.
“I never had my first kiss,” you admit after a minute of silence, turning your head to face Jean.
“Really?! You’re lying.” He doesn’t believe you. How could he have had his first kiss and not you? It didn’t make sense.
You give him a small, fake smile. “Never got the opportunity.”
The way he was looking at you made your legs ache. It’s a mix of disbelief and something more… passionate. His eyes slowly dilated the longer the silence between you continued. His mind was racing. If you never got the “opportunity” for your first kiss, does that mean you never got the opportunity for anything else? Has no one touched you? Have you ever touched yourself?
“And I-...” you start, trying to find a way to express how feel without making him uncomfortable. You give up, giving him an apology while turning your head away from him to face the other direction.
“I can’t die a virgin.”
Jean’s breath hitches. His questions were answered.
“I’m sorry,” you mutter.
“No! No,” he replies, his eyes still locked to your head. “I, I understand what you mean.”
You turn back to face him seeing that his iris’ have become completely black, consumed by the thought of your face on his pillow, fucking yourself on his cock and begging for him to do whatever he wants to you.
“Jean?”
“Mhm.” His eyes were still on yours making you unable to control the question that comes out of your mouth.
“If things were different, would you have fucked me?”
You didn’t feel embarrassed. You couldn’t seem to care.
Jean’s cock stiffened. He couldn’t do anything but nod. His eyes move to your thighs for a flash of a second. You were wearing a floral nightgown you bought at a Marlyian market long ago. He doesn’t believe what you’re wearing even qualifies as a “nightgown”. If he adjusted his position next to you by an inch, he’d be able to see your clothed cunt beneath the end of the fabric on full display. He would do it in a heartbeat if his semi-hard cock wouldn’t be visible to you if he moved.
He didn’t know you noticed his quick peak at your clamped thighs. You lift your head off of your knees, turning your body to face him and resting your thighs on the grass giving you a perfect angle to see his bulge. Unlike Jean, your gaze lingers between his legs, making sure he knows how badly you crave him.
You don’t know what came over you as your right hand drags its way to your aching pussy. grazing your clit with your middle finger. His gaze snaps to your hand, adjusting his posture to see past the ruffles of your “nightgown”, and slightly spreads his legs. You move your hand from your clothed clit to the side of Jean’s face, thumb brushing his cheekbone for a moment.
“Can I kiss–?” His lips latch onto yours, stealing the question from your mouth.
The kiss is desperate yet so gentle. Jean stops himself from bucking his hips in the air, his cock begging to be touched. He’s doing everything he can to not ruin your first kiss. You move your hand back to your clothed cunt, going back to the feather-like touches you gave your clit, mewling into his mouth.
You slowly release your mouth from his to lock eyes between his legs. “Touch yourself, Jean,” you command.
He doesn’t hesitate to do so, palming his throbbing cock through his thin, black lounge pants. You watch his bulge the size of your fist slowly grow. He moves his hand to give you a perfect view. It grew slightly in length whenever he lightly tugged his shaft with his fingers. You noticed how with every half an inch of growth, the width increased. You apply pressure to your clit, imagining how it would feel to fully take him.
Jean releases his now fully hard cock from the confines of his clothes, his hand immediately reaching for his tip. “Touch yourself,” he commands with a smirk, imitating you.
“I am.”
He fully sits up. His hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, his other hand reached for the top of your panties leaning in towards you, pointer finger and thumb pinching the seam. He uses his two fingers to pull the front of your panties down your hips, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth as a signal for you to arch your hips so he can free your pussy from its prison.
“There she is,” He whispers.
His cock twitches in his hand at the sight of your glistening cunt. He strokes himself slowly, dragging your panties completely down your legs, wraps it around his base, and continues to move his hand up and down his length. Your fingers touch your now bare clit tilting your head back with a strangled whine.
Jean bucks his hips into your panties. “No. I want you to fit as many fingers as you can in that pussy. Can you do that for me?”
You respond by brushing your hole with two of your fingers, making sure Jean can see you slowly push them inside of you. He mutters profanities, reaching his unoccupied hand to replace the one you had to your clit. You moan and rest back on your left elbow.
“Let me see you stretch yourself for my cock, baby.” Jean knows he’s fucking you tonight. He’s making sure of it.
He moves to sit directly next to you, removing his right hand and your panties from his throbbing cock and to your head, resting you on his shoulder. You close your eyes and halt your fingers knuckle deep inside you whining into his neck.
“Do I make you feel good?” he asks.
You nod into his shoulder.
He smirks, swiftly moving his body to hover above you, placing soft kisses down your body. His fingers arrive at your clit. Jean looks at you with his fully dilated eyes and lightly licks your clit. You arch your back, angling your pussy to his mouth.
He grabs your hips, laughing at you. His thumbs push your hips down, moving his hand down to grip your ass before engulfing your clit in his mouth. Your mouth widens in pleasure. His tongue escapes from his mouth, lapping your leaking juices back up to his mouth. You could feel that this wasn’t his first time eating pussy, and you couldn’t help but internally thank the girl he learned this from.
You cover your mouth to stifle your moans. A hand grabs your forearm. You look down to see Jean staring up at you, his eyes begging to hear your moans but refusing to get up from your cunt to use his words.
You remove your hand from your mouth and let your moans escape you. Jean’s hand returns underneath you to grip your ass, digging the tips of his fingers into the fat. Purposefully leaving bruises. Your fingers reach down to tug at his grown-out hair causing him to rut his hips into the ground. Pants barely protecting his shaft from contacting the grass beneath him.
You run your fingers through his tangled hair, getting good enough of a grip to remove his lips from yours with a pop. His mouth was shimmering in the moonlight from a mix of your juices and his saliva– beard completely drenched. His eyelids were heavy, staring into you as he mindlessly placed his lips back on your puffy cunt. You yank his head back up by his hair making him groan.
Your hands let go of the grip on his hair to hold his chin. “We can’t do this here,” you whisper to him.
He whines, slowly grinding his aching hips into the grass below him. “But we’re alone out here.”
“It’s not how I imagined it all going down,” you chuckle, moving your fingers softly down his neck.
“Please, baby. Please,” he begs, his hands reaching around your torso and under your nightgown to massage your tits. “I need you here. Now.”
“Then take me,” you moan, grinding on his chin. “Now.”
Jean’s eyes roll back and he groans. His hands grip your tits hard before moving his hands to your hips giving them the same grip. His lips latch back to your pussy, his tongue probing your entrance. You wrap your legs around his head in response. He slowly sits up on his knees lifting your hips in the process, muscles bulging through his tight, long-sleeved shirt– lips and tongue not parting from you.
His left-hand moves to the small of your back to lift and balance the lower half of your body on its own. His right grazes along your body wrapping his arm around your left thigh with a squeeze. His tongue moves from your hole back to your clit engulfing it with an open mouth kiss.
“Jean–,” Your whine is interrupted with a gasp as you feel his pointer and middle finger slowly enter you. Your walls clench around his fingers with a low moan.
You arch your back leaving your head to be the only part of your body left on the ground. His tongue slips from your clit as you grind it against his nose. He laughs at your desperation and lifts his head to return to his work on your sensitive bud.
You can feel yourself open more and more for him the deeper he enters. It stings, but you still feel the same ache in your ovaries from when Jean was devouring you. His fingers are thicker than yours, looking slender in contrast with the length. You can’t feel how dry and calloused they are. The texture was completely overpowered by your wetness. Yet, you’re so tight around them.
“You’re gripping my fingers, baby.” he babbles, kitten-licking your clit and slowly penetrating you. “I can barely move em’.”
You relax at his touch, feeling him move in and out of you with ease as he slowly lowers your chest back to the ground. He’s being so gentle now. Taking his time with you. 
“You didn’t have to stop,” he says, licking a painfully slow stripe just above his fingers up to your hood.
“I’m sorry.”
He gives your clit a peck, “Don’t apologize.” He kisses his way up your abdomen, his arm softly wrapping his lips around your tit and sucking on it.
“Jean, please!” You whine, grinding against his hand.
He removes his swollen lips from your hardened nipple, mocking your whine as he kisses up your neck landing on your lips. His tongue makes its way into your mouth forcing you to taste the remnants of yourself. You feel his fingers increase their pace, his ring finger attempting to make its way inside of you. You loosen your legs from his lower half and spread them allowing him deeper access. However, your pussy refuses to unclench from the anticipation of the third digit.
Jean pulls his lips away from you, softly kissing down your neck to get you to relax. You do and he forces his finger inside of you with a groan. His fingers move at a moderate pace. He twists them with each deep thrust making you tear up and close your eyes from the painful stretching of your walls.
He doesn’t stop his fingers from twisting, he simply says he needs you to be able to “take all of him”. He doesn’t actually know if this will help you. He just likes the way your body writhes beneath him.
Your hands find their home in Jean’s hair tugging at the strands on his nape, the back of his head, brushing his hair behind his ear so you could place a sloppy kiss on his cheek on occasion. You feel your body moving back and forth.
You open your eyes and move your head to look in between you and Jean’s bodies. You see Jean humping his wrist. His tip peeks through the band of his pants. Cock begging for attention. You feel like you’re stretched enough for his cock to at least enter with little resistance. You move your right hand down his clothed back and abs landing at his hip. You slowly release his twitching, rouge-colored cock and run your fingers down his happy trail.
His body twitches and lays slightly on top of you. Left hand reaching for your tit.
“Holy fuck,” He moans.
You attempt to wrap your hand around the base of his shaft struggling to reach far enough.
“Please, Jean,” You beg.
“I don’t know if you’re ready yet.”
You run the tips of your fingers up his cock barely landing on his tip to spread his precum. His fingers fully halt inside of you. His breath stutters in your ear. His grip on your tit softens. His body freezes above you for what feels like a minute.
Jean lifts himself off of you and removes his fingers from inside of you completely. His hands remove his pants and reach behind his head to do the same with his shirt. His toned body was lit by the moon behind him. His face leans back down to your pussy, giving a soft peck to your hole before spitting on it.
Your moan is muffled by Jean’s sticky fingers. He shoves his digits deep into your mouth. You hesitantly wrap your lips around them as much as you can, running your tongue in between them to lap up every drop of you. Just like he did.
He smiled down at you as you struggled to wrap your lips fully around his fingers. The sounds coming from your mouth were sinful and it wasn’t even your fault. Your loud slurping was comical to him.
He moves his knees around your midsection. His fingers leave your mouth with a trail of your saliva dripping down your chin to stroke his cock above you. He arches his body above your head, his cock coming straight toward your face.
“Spit on it, baby,” he demands, petting your head with his unoccupied hand.
You stare at his cock unable to comprehend what he told you. You didn’t hear him call your name. Twice. You didn’t hear him laugh at you. You did see his tip come closer to your mouth, brushing against your parted lips.
You immediately widen your mouth with a groan like it was a reflex. Your lips wrap around his tip licking and sucking the rest of his precum. Jean’s hand on your head pushes you a bit further down his length. Just enough to get the first few inches wet with your saliva.
“I want you to spit on it, okay?” He asks you softly this time. His hand slowly pulling you off of his dick by your hair.
Your response is muffled around him causing him to moan with a chuckle, stopping himself from fully pulling you off of him. He stares into your eyes smiling as you suck on his tip.
“Yeah?” He mocks you. He repeats himself, and you nod with him still in your mouth. He leans his head back laughing at you. You feel embarrassed. He looks back down at you for a few seconds as you keep slowly sucking him, and tilts his head. “You sweet girl.”
He removes you from his tip with a pop. You poorly spit on his shaft. Your saliva dripped off of his tip. He laughs at you again, softly wiping the spit off your chin and mixing it with what you left on him. He strokes his cock and leans down to meet your lips in a gentle kiss. He backs up to your legs and spreads them so he can fit in between.
“Are you ready?” He asks you, his face meeting yours.
“Yes,” You reply, leaning up to kiss him.
He hums and deepens the kiss, aligning himself at your entrance. He uses his hand to help push himself inside of you. You pull away from his lips and hiss, wrapping your arms around Jean’s neck. You could feel your hymen being pierced by the width of his cock. Feeling your cunt slowly wrap around him.
“I’m sorry, baby,” He coos, groaning. “I’m sorry.”
“It hurts,” You whine.
“I know.” He kisses your temple and pushes himself in further. You yelp. Your nails pierce his back.
The pain you feel makes it seem like his whole length is nuzzled inside you, but you know at least half an inch is all he’s attempted to do. He shushes you, softly kissing your head telling you he heard from some of the guys that it hurts for girls at first. He watches your pussy as it tries to suck him in.
“I trust you,” You breathe out.
You feel his tip twitch and he pushes himself deeper. Too deep. His whole head is inside of you, taking your flower. You can do nothing else but scream. Jean whips his head from your pussy to your face, moving his hand from his shaft to your cheek.
“Are you okay?” He asks, panicking. “I’m so sorry. I’m… I’m so sorry.”
Your face is wet with your saliva from his cock. You feel humiliated. You just wanted the hard part of this experience to be over so you could be filled by his cock and his cum. But it hurt. You wanted to tell Jean it wasn’t his fault, but it kind of was. He was just too big.
“I’m okay, Jean,” You reply kissing his nose, tasting yourself on it. God. You feel dirty. But that’s how you want to feel. You want him to give you your last night of peace. You wanted him to bottom out for the first time, deep within you. You wanted to tell him to fuck you so hard your legs go numb, to do whatever he wants to you, to feel his cum drip down your legs and be soaked up by your suit tomorrow. The only thing you could say through your pain was, “Fill me.”
Jean groans just barely pulling himself out of you to thrust another half an inch within your gummy walls. He looks at you to see any indication of you wanting him to stop. He sees your eyes rolling back as tears form at your waterline. Jean leans in to kiss your undereye, pulling himself out even more, and thrusts an inch of himself inside of you with a breathy moan.
You can barely let out a whine. Your throat feels restricted by an unknown force. You feel your womb ache and it feels unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Jean moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck to bury you in his.
“I’m going to speed up,” He warns you. He pulls in and out of you at a slightly quicker pace. He holds himself back from pounding himself into your hips at you clenching around him. “Fuck. You’re so tight, baby. I can feel you sucking me in.”
You whimper into his neck, being overcome by a painful pleasure. You’re crying into his neck, but he’s almost completely inside you. He can feel you holding back your pain. He pulls you out of his neck and sees the tears streaming down your face. You stopped him before he could say anything.
“Fuck me however you want. I want you to–.”
Jean slams himself completely inside of you with a moan, “Oh, fuck. Oh… fuck.” He bottoms out inside you.
He pulls two inches out of you. A moan drags out of your mouth, head leaning back to rest against the grass, and your back arches. He slowly thrusts himself fully inside you again, groaning.
“Jean.”
He pulls half of his length out of you, thrusting halfway, pulling out more of himself, and thrusts himself fully inside of you. He speeds up his pace being fueled by your squeals beneath him. He’s fucking you now.
You can only feel pleasure as Jean fucks you. Unable to control your moans. You can feel him twitching inside of you.
“Are you close?” You ask him, hoping he will say no and tell you about his high libido.
“Y-yes. Fuck!”
You push his chest off of you making him still.
“Did I hurt you?” He asks, his eyes bearing into yours.
“No, no,” You assure him. “I-I don’t want you to cum yet. I want to try something.”
He nods and apologizes. You reassure him and tell him to pull out of you so you can get on all fours and arch your back to him. His eyes widen at the sight. He grabs his cock, lining it back to your entrance, and slowly inches himself back inside of you. Fuck. Your hole stretched around him feeling that pain all over again. You bite your forearm to prevent you from screaming as he bottoms out again.
He grabs your hips, pulls out all the way, and thrusts into you, his balls slapping your clit making your chest fall further to the ground. He plunges himself into you at a rapid pace. The sound of skin smacking echoed through your dark surroundings. He leans down, pushing your hips down with him, ramming into you. You cry out in pleasure, whining beneath him. He uses one hand to push the arch of your back further into the ground and uses his other hand to do the same with your head. Your arms fall to the ground under you giving him deeper access inside of you, pushing himself against a spot that makes you wail.
“Yeah, you like that,” Jean moans your name. “You like my cock filling you up like this?”
You can’t seem to form words. He wraps the hand pushing your head down around your chin and turns you to face him. 
“Answer me.” He demands.
“Yes, sir.”
Jean practically growls. He flips you over, cock still nuzzled deep within your walls. He grabs both of your ankles, rests them on his shoulders, and ruts into you. You’re dizzy. Your vision blurs at the force of which he’s fucking you. You feel pressure in your lower abdomen like something’s pressing down on it.
“Look at that,” You hear Jean huff. Your vision focuses on the face in front of you, seeing his eyes latched to your stomach. There was a long, wide bulge appearing and disappearing inside of your body. “Do you know what that is, sweet girl?” You could barely shake your head no. “It’s me.” He laughs.
You look at your stomach again seeing the bulge appear with his thrusts and you realize just how small you are in comparison to Jean. His height, his build, his strength, his length. It all overpowered you. A hand grabs your chin and pushes your face up. “Look at me when I cum in you, baby.”
You got lost in his eyes as he fucked you stupid. Your head falls back, still staring into his eyes. He laughs, again. Saying something you couldn’t hear. You were distracted by his taunting smile and your oncoming orgasm. Your hips begin to shake but Jean holds you down with his hands, bringing his lips to yours.
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l0v3tast3 · 1 year
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✎ hmm trying somethin new ,,,,
tags: smut mdni!!, rough sex, dirty talk, pet names, afab!reader, fav x reader type thing
word count: 480ish
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he has your hair bunched into a messy ponytail, gripped tightly in his hand while the other lays flat on your upper back, pushing your upper body further into the bed. your neck strains with how your head is pulled back, just enough so you don't suffocate in the damp, wrinkled sheets.
your breaths are so shallow in between the moans and the babbling that spills from your drool-covered lips. it's just so hard to breath when his cock is bullying into you so hard and fast, when he just doesn't stop fucking you like a machine.
"aren't ya gonna thank me, baby?" he spits; his voice is gravelly and out-of-breath, but he's so invested in how your swollen cunt has his dick in a death grip that he doesn't even notice he's tired.
you barely can even register his words, your muddled brain having already been fucked empty hours ago.
after a few seconds of him impatiently waiting for a response, he turns your head and pushes it down, laying across your back and bringing his face down to yours. he had only paused for a few seconds but you were already whining, mumbling for him not to stop.
you were just so cute that he had to start fucking you again. deep, sharp thrusts pushed you further up the bed and caused you to cry out, your hands flying back to try to tell him to slow down.
"i said, you should really thank me, princess, for fuckin' you so damn good," he hissed in your ear, easily taking your hands and pinning them down on either side of your head. "you asked me for this, didn't you? fuckin' whined and begged until i stuck my dick in you."
"yes- yes! thank you! thank you, thank you-" you repeat it over and over like you're praying to him and he soaks it up with a grin. once your mantra dies down back into mindless moaning, he lets go of one hand to pet your hair, rubbing his thumb over your tear and mascara-stained cheek comfortingly.
"see, sweetheart, that wasn't so hard, was it?" his hips finally slow down, moving more fluidly, going from punishing to loving in seconds.
your body finally relaxes a bit, so wound from the overstimulation and the feeling of his cock trying to fuck into your cervix. your hope that he's finally giving you a break is soon squashed, though.
after a few tender moments he's flipping you over onto your back and gathering your legs in his arms to press them up by your head. all you can muster is a whimper when he easily slides his dick back into you, both of you covered in both of your cum.
"don't worry, baby, i'm rewarding you. you're just such a good girl for me," he coos, a patronizing smile plastered on his face as he resumes his cruel pace.
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ghost , price // eren , levi , jean // toji , satoru , nanami , suguru
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ilyluffy · 11 months
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𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧 + 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you love jean more than anything but you’re almost positive he only wants you for sex but maybe you’re wrong…
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: fwb!jean kirstein x afab!reader
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut {minors + ageless blogs dni!! you’ll be blocked}
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: soft dom!jean, college/modern au, fwb, assumed unrequited feelings, angst to fluff, praise, a lil bit of body worship, cunnilingus, cum eating, petnames “baby, princess, babydoll”, mentions of cumming untouched, breeding kink, implied vaginal sex/multiple orgasms
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.3k+
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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂. not because you dared to have a friends with benefits relationship. no. it wasn’t even necessarily because you caught feelings for the person you were supposed to just be having casual sex with. what you found REALLY embarrassing was that you fell a guy you just so happened to be fucking who very clearly had feelings for someone else.
jean made no secret that the person he wanted to be with most was mikasa, another girl at your college. you never really understood it. of course mikasa was gorgeous but she never showed an interest in jean whatsoever. if anything she spent her time following eren jaeger around like a loyal puppy. although, given the position you were in now, you realized you were in no place to judge jean.
emotions were unpredictable and often time’s uncontrollable. that was a lesson you learned that hard way after you and jean made your arrangement. you were already friends so why not do the other a favour and be each other's booty call. it wasn’t gonna be anything serious but the longer it went on the more it became serious for you.
you loved him, you really did and it was driving you crazy. it was painful being the person jean settled with because he couldn’t have her. you weren’t sure what to do at this point. keep things going and be constantly reminded that he’ll never feel the same way? or tell him the truth and possibly lose jean completely.
“i don’t know why you don’t just talk to him,” your roommate pieck says as she relaxes on the end of your bed. you sat against your headboard, miserably staring up at the ceiling after you poured your heart out to her. she was the only one of your friends that ran in different circles from jean and it felt like she was the lone person in the world you could confide in.
you sigh, shaking your head at that thought. “this isn’t one of those situations where the worst thing he can say is no, pieck. i know for a fact that feelings aren’t mutual. the worst case scenario is that he freaks out and runs. i can’t lose him like tharp”.
pieck seems to understand where you’re coming from, nonetheless she pushes forth. “okay, you don’t have to be honest with him but either way you two can’t keep having sex. it’ll only get harder for you and it’s not fair that things stay one sided. you need to end it”.
she’s right and you know it. just as you open your mouth to say something else, your phone buzzes. right on cue you look down and see jean’s name pop up in your notifications. you feel pieck’s dark eyes linger on you as you pick up your cell to respond. “he’s asking me to come over” you confess, finger hovering over the send button after you typed out a reply.
pieck tries to reason with you, advising you to say no. that is the wise choice but you feel your heart ache as you consider that option. deep down you want to take any chance you can get to be close to jean. no matter how stupid it is, you can’t deny him. so despite your friend’s advice, you text jean back telling him you’ll be at his place soon.
“i’m only going over to tell him we can’t do this anymore. that’s it” you insist as you become hyper aware of pieck’s judgemental stare. you can tell by the expression on her face that she doesn’t believe you but at this point you don’t care what anyone else thinks. all that matters to you is jean. so you put on some better clothes, grab your keys, and rush out the door.
it’s almost humiliating how quickly you arrive at jean’s doorstep. what’s even worse is that jean doesn’t appear the least bit surprised by your speed. it’s like he’s immune to how desperate you are at this point. it makes you want to shrivel up and die when you walk into his apartment.
it’s obvious by the lack of noise that jean’s housemates sasha and connie aren’t around. he takes advantage of the privacy by latching his lips on to your neck once he closes the front door.
“fuck, eren really pissed me off today” he grumbles against your skin. “i really need to let out some frustration”.
his muscular arms wrap around you as jean nips at your shoulder. normally this would make you feel like you were on cloud nine. being held by him used to be enough but it’s that moment that you realized there’s no love behind the touch. this is sad and the moment that sinks in for you, a feeling of nausea washes over you.
pieck was correct, what the hell were you doing?! suddenly coming to your senses, you squirm out of jean’s embrace. “please stop. i can’t do this”. for the first time since you got here, jean’s shocked. the first thing out of his mouth is a question about if he did something wrong.
you’re at the lost for words. technically he hadn’t done anything wrong intentionally but without meaning to he’s been using you and you couldn’t pretend like that wasn’t a fact anymore. “i’m sorry. i know you were expecting one thing but i only really came over to tell you that this needs to stop here” you say, avoiding jean’s gaze. “i know this was supposed to be casual but i can’t settle for that anymore”.
jean blinks in disbelief a few times before speaking. “i uh… that’s totally fine. i don’t mind not fucking anymore but… there’s something else you’re not saying”.
damn it, you forgot that he could read you like a book. of course jean could tell that you were hiding something. you feel so ashamed with yourself for so many reasons that your eyes start to water. you’re still not looking in his direction but jean can still spot the tears.
you don’t fight him when his hand takes hold of your chin and guides your face toward him. “what’s going on? i care about you beyond sex you know. you can talk to me” he tells you softly. you’re silently begging him to stop talking like that. you don’t want any false hope.
“you’ll hate me if i tell you” your bottom lip trembles. you can tell that jean’s utterly confused but he remains firm. he doesn’t stop wiping away the droplets on your cheeks and his hazel eyes stay glued to your own. he wasn’t going to drop this so you just spit it out. “i want more than sex with you. i love you jean” you confess, with your voice wobbling. “but i can’t compete with her”.
your words hit him hard. it's apparent in how jean’s facial features shift. however, once the initial bewilderment fades away you witness some confusion return. “compete with who?”.
you nearly throw your hands in the air in frustration. why was he playing dumb?! you have to pull away from jean completely to turn your back to him. “mikasa…”.
it takes jean a moment to process your response but when he does he’s quick to reject this claim. “mikasa? come on, how stupid do you think i am? i gave up on trying to win over mikasa ages ago. we all know she’s obsessed with that bastard eren”.
you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a sense of relief. although, that didn’t mean that you hadn’t made a mistake in opening your big mouth. even if jean was claiming mikasa was out of the picture, that didn’t mean this was going anywhere.
sighing, you open your mouth to say something but you tense up when you feel jean’s chest against your back. out of nowhere he was so close. you can’t stop yourself from shivering when you feel his breath fan against the back of your neck. “besides, there’s someone i like a lot more. you wanna ask me who it is?”.
your throat feels dry for a few seconds but you somehow manage to choke out a “w-who?”.
jean chuckles softly, hugging you for a second time. this time around you let him, melting into his touch. “that would be you, baby. i’m crazy about you”.
almost immediately your heart starts hammering in your chest. you would have been worried about jean hearing it but you could feel his own heart pounding as he clings to you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. none of this feels real. you’re still wearing an unsure expression when you crane you neck to look back at jean. “really?”.
you’re met with a smile as jean gives you a nod. “yeah. do you mind if i prove it to you?”.
you hesitate for a moment but soon enough you agree. jean doesn’t waste a second. leading you to his bedroom, he guides you down on the bed gently. he’s never really been too rough with you but you swear this is the first instance where he’s treated you like glass. each of his touches were careful as he eventually leaned down to press his lips against yours.
the sensual kiss lasts until you’re begging for air. when jean releases your lips, he makes his way toward your jawline and neck. oftentimes he tries not to leave too many marks so no one asks questions. however now he’s sucking a very visible bruise on your skin, like he’s claiming you as his own.
“can i take these off, princess?” he asks, tugging lightly on your clothes. you’re still in the middle of catching your breath but you nod your head. with your permission jean carefully peels the fabric off of you. he starts with your top and when it’s removed he trails kisses down your stomach.
when he reaches your bottoms you give jean a hand in slipping them off your legs. now you’re left in nothing but a bra and pantie set you picked out just for him. “so pretty” jean murmurs to himself, situating his face between your legs. “todays all about you, alright babydoll? gonna make you feel so good” he hums before leaves an open mouth kiss over your clothes clit.
a shiver runs up your spine as he assists you out of your underwear. you aren’t totally sure where he discards them but you could have sworn you witnessed jean shove the panties in the pocket of his pants. you have no time to really think about it as jean latches his mouth on to your clit.
a moan comes echoing from you as your fingers take through his brown hair. jean groans when you pull lightly on the locks that he’s been growing out. the cute sounds you’re making the sweetest melody his ears have had the pleasure of hearing. he wants to hear more so when jean finishes paying attention to your lick he begins to lap up your folds.
“already so wet. so good f’me” his praises are muffled as he pushes his face closer to your core. you attempt to help by keeping your legs as spread as possible but when jean’s plunged into your pussy you can’t stop yourself. you thighs close around his head but based on jean’s reaction he likes it. the minute to start suffocating him with the soft pounds of flesh he moans lowly. as his wet muscle swirls around your gummy walls he has to rut his hips into the bed in order to relieved his strained cock.
“taste like heaven. nothing i’d rather eat” his voice filling your ear drums only doubles your pleasure. it doesn’t help that his nose is pressed against your sensitive nub. you’re not sure how much of this you can take. you had no way of knowing but the next thing jean says pushes you over the edge. maybe it was the way your nails were digging into his scalp or how your whimpers were going up in volume. either way jean predicts that your orgasm is closing in on you. “is MY baby getting close. you can cum whenever you want”.
it doesn’t matter that his sentence was somewhat suppressed by your cunt. you still hear him loud and clear when jean calls you “his baby”. something about him taking ownership over you really solidifies in your head that this isn’t a hallucination. this is real. jean loves you back. that fact alone is enough to make you cream on his face.
“fuck, that’s my baby” jean says as he slurps up the mess. it’s so lewd that you have to cover your face as he completes his meal. at some point you feel jean gently grab your wrists to stop you from hiding yourself. “wanna see you, princess”.
reluctantly, you move your arms away. you’re immediately greeted with your cum dripping down jean’s chin as he stares down at you. before you can comment on time he’s giving you another passionate kiss. you go from whining as you taste yourself to giggling when the whiskers of his bread give you a tickle.
“i love you, understand?” he mumbles against your lips, earning a genuine nod from you. “what do you wanna do now, princess?” jean proceeds, giving you a tender smile when he pulls away.
“i should probably return the favour, shouldn’t i? you were talking about how you needed to let out some frustration,” you reply.
jean chuckles, shaking his head. “that’s already been taken care of” he informs you before guiding your hand over his crotch. you gasp when you feel the damp spot. “tasting you was enough to make me cum” he smirks as your face heats up. “but if you wanna keep this going i’d be more than happy to breed you. 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃, 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋?”.
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2022–2023 �� ilyluffy — do not repost or translate my work. likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome
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trost has a blizzard
pairing: jean kirstein x f!reader
word count: 1.3k
cw: fluff :)
summary: today’s shitty but luckily for you, trost university decided to cut its’ students some slack by giving them the day off. you had the blizzard to thank for spending an entire snow day with jean.
sasha, connie and you had decided to spend the previous night at jean’s house. his parents weren’t home, not that they’d care anyway, and it was a perfect opportunity for the four of you to spend some time goofing off. sasha lived right next door but you, however, did not. you lived about a fifteen-minute drive away- not too far but impossible to drive in this sort of condition. they had the luxury of walking next door to their home, given connie is mr. and mrs. braus’s honorary child, and escaping jean’s moodiness.
sasha and connie were gone before you’d even woken up. all that remains of them was a mess of bundled up blankets on the kirstein’s living room floor. the sun was beating down hard through the windows, reflecting off the white snow. it was blinding, considering you’d just woken up. jean lays on the couch, an arm thrown above his head in a deep sleep.
quietly, you untangled yourself from the old quilt blankets. jean’s grandmom had made them a while ago. they were itchy but they kept you warm. you head over to the window on your tiptoes. outside, it’s a white wonderland. you groan under your breath as you see it had snowed enough to cover up more than half of your tires.
you didn’t mind jean. truthfully, he was a pain in the ass. he annoyed the hell out of you but sometimes, he was nice to be around. truthfully, you found his grumpiness cute. other times, you wanted to punch him in that thick skull of his.
as you curse sasha for leaving you here with him, you turn around to head back to your spot on the floor. jean’s awake, his hair pulled every which direction, and watching you. a black tshirt adorns his torso with a matching pair of plaid pajama pants. there’re bags under his eyes with a confused expression.
“where’d they go this early?” jean yawns and pulls himself up into a sitting position.
“home, jean. it’s almost 11:30.” you point to the clock hanging above the flatscreen.
“and you’re still here?” he asks, tilting his head. he’s confused but more importantly, he’s surprised that you’d want to spend time with him without the company of your best friend.
“don’t get too excited. my car’s not going anywhere like that.” you sigh and jerk your head towards the window.
jean uses two hands to push himself up off the couch. his absence leaves a perfect indent of his body. he chuckles as he looks out the window, “you better get to shoveling cause i’m not helping you with that shit.” with that, he turns around and heads into the other room.
deciding that maybe you should get to work, you hesitantly oblige jean’s orders. not because you can’t handle some snow shoveling, no, because you hate listening to jean. it makes you feel like you lost.
you bundle up as best as you can with the clothes you brought. not blizzard appropriate, but hopefully enough to keep you somewhat warm as you dig out your car.
the wind meets you with a slap in the face. it whistles loudly in your ears as you tuck your chin into your neck for a bit of extra warmth as you head over to your car, but not before grabbing a shovel leaning against the garage door.
a few minutes into your labor, you hear the front door close. out comes jean, wearing the correct attire. a thick black winter jacket with the hood pulled up. it’s fur lined, bits of it poking out around his face. his hands are shoved into the pockets as he heads over to you with his snow boots leaving size 10 shoe prints along the way.
it’s cold but the adorable sight of jean makes an unfathomable heat rush to your face. he looked adorable and you couldn’t deny it. it was pissing you off.
“i can do it, jean. go back in.” you raise your voice a bit as he just smiles at you.
“i’m not that much of a dick.” he grabs the spare shovel and heads over to you. reluctantly, you accept his help even though you really don’t want to. but for the sight of his cheeks and nose turning red with windburn, you’ll tolerate it.
after spending fifteen minutes or so digging out your tires and the driveway, jean pauses and says he’s going to get you some warmer clothes. you don’t object to this, the snow was starting to seep into your shoes. he’s gone for about thirty seconds before your head jolts forward as something smacks the back of it.
“jean.” you growl without turning around. he doesn’t answer you. “i swear to god, if you-“ you threaten as you spin yourself to face him.
smack.
a cold, hard white ball of snow strikes you in the center of your face. you gasp at the iciness feeling left on your face being amplified by the wind.
jean stands a few feet away from you, grinning from ear to ear. “what are you gonna do?” he taunts as he bends down to scoop up some more.
“i’m not playing this game. help me dig, please.” you say annoyedly. he tosses another at you, hitting you just above your belly button. “jean. you are so fucking childish.” you groan but take a quick second to grab your own supply of snow.
you’re faster than he is. your throw lands right against his left cheek and he looks flabbergasted. bewildered by your accuracy, you get a chance to land another one on the opposite cheek. now, he just looks grumpy. he looks entirely grumpy with rosy cheeks and a fur lined hood.
“you’re in for it, (y/n.)” he threatens, pointing a finger at you. he starts trudging towards you, prompting you to run in hopes he doesn’t catch you. you think heading for the door is a good option; there’s no snow to throw in there.
with frozen fingers, you grab onto the doorknob but before you can push it open, two strong arms wrap around you. they lift you off the ground and away from the safety of the indoors. “you asked for this.” he struggles to get his words out as he carries you back towards the yard, you kicking and flailing the entire time, demanding he put you down. “fine, i’ll put you down.” jean drops you face first in the snow.
you shriek as jean does as he said. landing belly-down, you push yourself as hard as you can up away from the cold earth. jean stands above you, looking all too smug. you were going to get him for this. you shoot your hands out and grab his pants, just above the knees, and yank him downwards to the snow. you calculated a bit too wrong- jean leans directly on top of you, knocking your back right back down into the snow. he barely catches himself with his two gloved hands.
“oh…uh…” jean stammers as he hovers over you. your heart is beating too fast for your own liking. why were you looking at him like this? and why was he looking at you like that? you can't say anything, you just swallow your own spit. peering up at him through snow-riddled eyelashes, he gives speaking another attempt. “sorry…” his voice is slow and confused. a direct contradiction, he leans down and presses his lips to yours. surprisingly, they’re warm. you’ve forgotten all about your wet clothes as you feel his heat.
“that’s okay.” you whisper, your lips grazing against his.
“yo, what the fuck?” you look to your right and see a traumatized looking connie springer.
click here to read my jean fic !!
inspired by @brave-and-gentle’s fic 🤍
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jeankirsteinsgirl · 7 months
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hii you're doing requests?? how about hc/drabbles or whatever about cowboy Jean? 💕💕
of course love!
Cowboy Jean HCs
CW: cowboy jean, country coded, fem reader, slight nsfw, drunk sex, mention of alcohol, MDNI!!
A/N: this will hopefully be the first of many requests i answer because i’m a lot less busy now so i will be answering as many requests as possible!!
- So he acts all tough right
- but he’s down bad for you
- King of wearing jeans allll the time kinda annoying like does he have any other clothes??
- super hot when he’s all dirty from working all day and he’s all sweaty 🤭🤭
- STRONG from working all the time around the farm, can lift super heavy, has super strong hands and arms and don’t get me started on his back muscles
- takes his shirt off when it gets too hot outside for him to be in his flannel and he’s ripped ugh
- Super charming it’s annoying always calling saying “yes ma’am” “baby” “darling”
- never misses the chance to compliment you “looking good in those shorts gorgeous. Put ‘em on just for me?”
- Somehow smells good even though he’s dirty all the time. smells like tobacco and vanilla
- smokes all the time even though you told him it’s bad for him but you can’t lie it’s hot when he takes long drags while staring at you
- such pretty eyes omg. they’re such a contrast from his tough manly cowboy aesthetic
- such pretty brown doe eyes and long lashes that just stare into your soul and the way he looks at you omg
- always insists on picking you up even when you have a car and can drive yourself
- picks you up in his old rusty pick up truck that he got from his dad that’s super loud you can hear it pulling up from a mile away
- keeps his hand on your thigh the whole time he’s driving and rubs little circles into your thigh subconsciously bc he loves touching you
- chivalrous king
- opens every door for you and motions with his hand while he watches you walk through
- refers to you as “his girl” when talking about you to anyone
- loves when you wear his clothes, he thinks it’s so cute watching you walk around in his flannels
- loves when you give his clothes back because they smell like you
- gets flirted with all the time unfortunately. all the girls in your hometown have a huge crush on jean and we’re so mad when he got with you
- but he constantly reassures you you are the only one he wants and he would never even consider being with anyone else
- acts all cocky and confident but is secretly so obsessed with you and would do anything for you
- pays for everything ofc he’s a gentleman and gets upset of you offer to pay bc only pussies let their girls pay for things
- his breath smells soooo good and he tastes good too bc he’s always chewing gum or drinking whiskey
- secretly so romantic and that side of him comes out when you’re hooking up
- would kiss every inch of your body to show how much he loves you and that he thinks you’re the most beautiful person alive
- constant praise and compliments “how you’re so fucking perfect” “my pretty girl” “such a good girl for me aren’t you?”
-still a little cocky in the bedroom bc he’s good and he knows it
- you can feel his muscles flexing under your fingers while you scratch your nails into his back
- biggest dick you’ve ever seen lmao
- a good 7-8 inches but it’s thick
- focuses on your pleasure first ofc
- makes you cum multiple times until he’s satisfied
- stretches you out with his fingers to prepare you for his cock bc he wants you to be able to take all of him
- god his fingers are long and rough with callouses and he hits every spot perfectly he knows exactly how to make you cum for him
- “that’s it baby, does that feel good huh? You gonna cum for me already?” while he kisses all down your body
- drunk sex constantly bc he def likes going to the bar and drinking on his porch
- wants you to sit on his lap while he’s drinking on the porch and gets all pouty and upset of you say no :(
- puts his arm around you anytime you walk around any other guys bc he’s sooooo possessive and needs them to know that you’re his
- make out sessions all the time
- would be like “cmon baby just give me a little kiss” then has you moaning into his mouth for him with his hands all over you
- was super cocky before you were dating, he knew you had a huge crush on him and would use that to his full advantage
- would tease you as much as possible, taking his shirt off in front of you on purpose, running his fingers through his hair, rolling his tongue in his cheek while staring at you, looking you up and down constantly
- heavy sleeper lol and accidentally rolls on top of you all the time
- loves cuddling you and borderline smothering you in his arms
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theragethatisdesire · 7 months
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show off - eren jaeger x afab!reader x jean kirschstein, 18+!!
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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.
764 notes · View notes
mochimooon · 5 months
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DTF Only (Girl Dinner) - jean kirstein x reader 18+
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pairing: Jean Kirstein x afab! Reader summary: It's Hump-Day and your latest match, Jean wants to wine and dine you. word count: 4k+ notes: Part 5 of DTF Only. My fav, Jean's turn 😊💗 Indented text refers to Reader's messages. warnings: smut, explicit content, explicit language, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, oral sex (f! receiving), vaginal sex ☻ masterpost☻
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ !!
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Hey! :) You’ve got a pretty smile.  How’s your week going?
Tinder has quickly become part of your daily routine. At night, you fall asleep swiping. In the morning, you catch up on new messages as you pour a cup of coffee. 
The man—a gorgeous man—behind the latest message stirs your sleepy mind wide awake.
A handsome face with an equally handsome smile, a jaw framed with a dusting of scruff that adds a rugged touch to his refined beauty. 
Jean’s a year older than you are, works in property management, loves to travel, and he’s open to anything. Friendships, hook-ups, long-term commitments. Vague. 
Scrolling through his photos, you pause on a group picture. He towers over everyone in the frame, and you notice his height is left out of the bio, letting the pictures speak for themselves. Given the apparent stature, your imagination runs wild…
He looks great in every single picture, whether in a suit or dressed casually, Jean’s confidence is effortless through the screen. He even snuck in a shirtless photo of him by the pool, and you’re not disappointed in how he looks in those swim trunks. Good boy…
You are shooting your shot here and now. 
Week has been interesting so far lol Are you a local or in town for a visit?
His response is immediate.  
Local ;) Can I take you to dinner tonight?  There’s a new spot I think we should check out.
Another date. It would be a sin to say no.
7pm works best for me. Where’s this spot?
“Ohhhhh….he’s…good job…” 
After sending a picture of Jean to the group chat, Pieck is at a loss for words on the phone call.
Even Ymir gives her own seal of approval. “Alright, so far, he’s more your type. Tall, classic pretty boy. Unlike that doofus from the other night.”
“Cory?” Pieck says.
You sigh, looking out the car window, the cityscape shrinking away. “Connie was not a doofus, he was fun!”
Ymir scoffs on the other line. “Whatever, this Jean dude gets points for wanting to take you on a proper date. He’s already trying to impress you, and you know what that means…” Her voice channels into a devilish tease. “He might take you to a fancy hotel, pop some bubbly, and then chase it down with…”
Being the freak that you are, your thighs clench together. You dart a look at the rearview mirror, hoping that your Uber driver hasn’t taken notice. 
“We’ll see. I might not take it that far tonight.”
Laughter fills your ear. Pieck and Ymir don’t take you seriously. 
“Don’t stop now,” Pieck says. “Ymir’s right, Jean looks promising. It could lead to something more.”
You frown. “I’m not looking for anything serious.”
Ymir clicks her tongue. “Keep it open-ended. If this guy wants to spoil you with dinner and fuck you, then you’ve struck Tinder gold.”
“I thought the whole point was to explore?”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing,” Pieck says. “It’s how dating works, keeping your options open and enjoying the process, regardless of outcome. Ymir and I just want you to be happy.”
Ymir pipes up in agreement. “Yeah, we’ll always support you for hookering.”
You smirk, endeared by that sentiment. 
The Uber pulls to a stop, and you end the call. 
Despite the traffic in the city, you’ve made it to the restaurant five minutes early. You enter through the front, taking stock of the place.
It’s a coastal spot, offering outdoor dining that overlooks the ocean on a large patio.
You watch people saunter in and out, dressed much sharper than what you’d find at the local surf-n-turf. Even the host is dressed to impress, wearing a suit as he answers a call with polished etiquette. 
When Jean had sent you the restaurant info, you had given it a onceover after searching it up. From the location and seafood fare, you knew it’d be fancy, the kind of place that serves top-shelf wine and scoring a reservation is akin to winning the lottery. 
And as you soak in the venue, you’re doubly impressed. This place is fancy fancy.
Jean said he made reservations for 7pm under his name, but you’re unsure if you should check in or wait for him. 
There’s no need. A minute after your arrival, you catch a smooth voice uttering your name.
Spinning on your heel, you struggle to keep from grinning ear to ear.  You’ve been lucky all week and Jean’s no exception, outdoing his profile like a reverse Catfish. 
Who were you kidding? Your friends were right not to take you seriously. You need to sleep with this man.  His tall frame is poise as he steps forward, a beautiful smile widening. Light brown eyes sip in your appearance. You straighten your spine, discreetly jutting your chest out to appear graceful yet fuckable.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you in person,” he laughs, a long arm wrapping around you gently. 
You lean into the hug, senses drenched with his cologne. He’s dressed for the occasion, a clean-pressed, button-down shirt in navy, a matching blazer overtop. The top button is undone. You’re shameless, stealing a glance at the skin. 
His eyes do another sweep, settling on your chest for a few seconds before snapping up to meet your eyes. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” you say, coquettish as he extends his arm for you to take.  
Together, you approach the host. 
“Kirstein at seven,” Jean supplies. 
A quick review from the host behind the counter and he smiles, grabbing menus. “This way.” Leading you both out to the patio for your table, he turns around. “Ever been to an oyster bar before?”
Jean gestures to you.
“First time.” 
The host stops at a table near the center, a comfortable distance from the glass railing to take in the ocean view, but far enough that you won’t be freezing all night. 
Jean pulls your chair out, taking his seat afterwards. The host briefs you two on the menu, and after explaining the wine selection, Jean orders a bottle for the table. 
“The blue suits you,” you say, nodding. Under the glow of the string lights and heat-lamps, you can’t stop ogling him. “On theme for the evening.”
Jean unrolls the silverware from the cloth napkin, giving you a cheeky look. “Thank you. Glad you were free tonight. I know it’s kind of last minute, so I appreciate the flexibility. Didn’t want to miss out on a chance to see you.”
“How could I say no?” You bat your lashes. “Trying to be more spontaneous these days.”
Jean huffs an amused breath. “I can relate. It’s healthy to be spontaneous sometimes, breaks us out of routine.”
You hum in agreement. That’s something you’re quickly learning. 
A waiter arrives, presenting the wine bottle Jean had ordered with the host. A white wine variety that that pairs well with shellfish. Neither of you waste too much time deciding on the menu, placing an order for their popular oysters. And the waiter disappears. 
Jean reaches over, pouring wine into your glass. “Can I ask what brought you to Tinder?”
You lean your chin into your laced fingers, shrugging. “It was my friends’ idea. ‘You’re single, you should be out there exploring’.”
“A little peer-pressure is harmless,” Jean teases. “If not for them, we wouldn’t have matched.”
You laugh faintly. “I’ll thank them later. Besides, it’s become the new norm to meet people online. That’s why you’re on it, right?”
He flashes his teeth. “Yeah, it’s not as weird anymore as it once was. My friends, colleagues, almost everyone’s hopped on it. In the end it’s no different than meeting at the DMV or at a coffee shop.”
You smile. “Like a meet-cute?” 
Jeans smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Is that what they call it when you meet offline?”
“Rom-com lingo. Meeting someone where you’d least expect to meet. I guess it can apply online too.”
“Are you looking for anything in particular?”
Aside from casual sex, nope.
Beyond that, you don’t know. You’re in a lull, still processing how to feel about your breakup. You suppose you could just say, you’re looking for a fling, but saying that aloud seems too bold, and if you’re being honest kills the mood. Sex is most rewarding through the art of seduction.
“I like to keep things open-ended, so whatever happens, I guess I’ll figure it out later.” 
Jean nods. “Same here, I like to go with the flow, see where it leads.” 
From the way his eyes dance from your lips to your chest, you don’t need him to clarify his answer. It’s staring right at you, six foot three with ash brown hair that graces his nape. You want to run your hand back there, maybe yank it a little.
Jean raises his glass, meeting your eyes. “Cheers to whatever happens.”
You exchange pleasantries, getting a better feel for each other. He talks about how he got into his field of work, and you explain what your days are like working from home. 
It’s tame and safe…for now.
The tray of oysters is set down at the center of the table, arranged neatly.
“Glad you’re not picky about seafood,” Jean says. 
“I like most but never had oysters. They don’t look as intimidating as I thought they’d be.”
Jean squeezes a lemon wedge over the spread. “I think you’ll like them.”
“I’ve heard it takes a special kind of palate to enjoy them.” You tilt your head, and his smile understands that you’re not talking about the shellfish. 
“The texture takes some getting used to. But they’re a superfood. They’ve got protein, antioxidants, they boost energy.” 
There’s a pause, a bold shift passing across the table. 
“And a stimulant,” Jean finishes. 
You hold Jean’s stare for a moment, reading where the line of small talk blurs. It’s a tempting lure, and you take the bait. “An aphrodisiac.” 
There’s a glint in his eyes that reaches his pearly whites. “Exactly.”
You shiver, goosebumps coating your skin.
Jean looks to the plate of oysters, reaching for one. You do the same, tipping the shell up without breaking eye contact as the flesh disappears behind your lips. 
The texture is a little off-putting, but you chew it enough to assess the briny taste. You swallow, puckering your mouth, reaching for your glass. 
You wash the oyster down with white wine and sigh. 
Jean’s stare flicks to your wine glass. “You got lipstick on it.”
You spare the glass a look, arching a brow. A distinct nude imprint is stained on the rim like a delicate kiss. 
The corner of your mouth curls. “Guess that means I’ll have to redo it. It’s my favorite shade, but it’s not long-lasting. Rubs off too easily.”
“That right?” Jean purrs, a smirk ghosting his lips. “I thought the point of wearing lipstick was for it to get ruined.”
The brisk ocean air turns humid, leaving you breathless and setting your pulse aflame. You look forward to seeing where the night takes you.
A few more helpings of oysters (and a little more wine) later, the flirtatious back and forth darken to vulgar language whispered across the table and shameless eye-fucking. 
“I want to feel you squeeze around my cock,” Jean intones, low and gravelly, and meant for your ears only. 
You bite your lip, imagining how hard Jean must be right now. You shift in your seat, crossing your legs tighter under the table, but that doesn’t help at all. You’re so horny you want to crawl across and devour him. 
The waiter returns, you and Jean doing your best to tone it down. 
“Another bottle of wine for the table?” 
“No, we’re fine, thank you,” Jean says, smooth like silk as if he wasn’t dirty-talking you just seconds ago. 
“Can I get you two anything else?” 
Beneath the table, you drag your foot up Jean’s leg, looking at the waiter with an innocent smile. Subtly, you bring the tip of your heel to nudge Jean’s muscled thigh. It’s subtle and secretive and gets the exact response you want from Jean.
He masks the hitch in his throat as a chuckle.
You can tell he’s losing his patience, unable to resist the crackling tension. His equilibrium hangs by a thread.
He addresses the waiter with an even tone, but you’re not deaf to the whisper of urgency behind his words.
“Just the bill.”
Jean white-knuckles the drive to his place. His other hand rests on your thigh, pressing his fingers into the flesh. Unable to control yourself, you take his hand to stroke along your face.
He flicks a glance from the road, caressing his thumb across your lip. You nibble his thumb, smiling around it when Jean groans. 
It’s cute how riled up he’s gotten, and you can’t deny how much it turns you on.  
You suck on his thumb, whirling your tongue around it. “Do you like this, Jean?”
Eyes trained on the road, Jean can only manage a strained hum. “Mhmm—”
It’s a rhetorical question, because you already know, and before you realize it, he’s pulled into a parking structure and kills the engine. 
Jean all but grabs you from the car and tugs you up the elevator to his apartment. He bites back a displeased grunt, sliding his arm from your waist upon seeing a few people inside. 
The other tenants give you both a brief onceover and turn away as they read the room, fraught with so much sexual tension.
Reaching the fifth floor, Jean’s hand squeezes yours as he politely excuses you both, wishing the other tenants a good night behind a strained smile.
It’s a short walk to his door. Jean’s keys scratch at the keyhole a few times, distracted to get it open. It’s not his fault your hands roam around his torso, mapping out the taut muscles beneath his shirt.
The door clicks open, and Jean drags you inside, whirling around.
Your back hits a wall, mouth seized in a fiery kiss. Reaching for his shirtfront you pry it open, popping a few buttons. Your fingers graze lines of chiseled muscle, fingers brushing against his nipples as you help him slide the shirt off. 
Jean hisses into your mouth, taking hold of your thighs to lift you up. He’s on the move, deepening the kiss, kicking a different door open. 
You land on your feet, and with enough willpower, you pull away for air. “Jean…”
Light brown eyes gloss over your face, rich like scotch. He’s so much bigger than you, can easily pick you up again and toss you to the bed. It’s an enthralling idea until a different thought crosses your mind.
“Jean.”
He hums against your pulse, peppering that spot with a few more kisses before he resurfaces. Anticipation hangs over the edge of his smile, eager for you to give him a signal.
You make a bold request. “Get on your knees.”
Surprise flickers along Jean’s brows, stretching to his hairline. But it’s replaced with brightened excitement. He kisses your cheek, then drops to floor, peering up at you, a dog waiting for a bone.  
Despite the current dynamics, you feel a little timid then, wondering how far you can go with this. 
Jean’s eyes flutter shut, melting at the feel of your nails carding through his hair. 
“Does that feel good?” you ask in earnest. 
Jean nods heavily, looking up with a lidded gaze. “Yes…” 
You catch the slow bob of his Adam’s apple, and you lick your lips. “What about this?” You’re still testing the waters, reaching for the back of his skull. You tug his hair, pulling his head back.
“Yes…” 
Shit. Jean’s so quick to yield to your touch, it makes your pussy throb.  
Hiking up your dress, you throw a leg over his shoulder. 
Jean’s eyes drown in the lace of your panties. “So fucking pretty…” he husks. He grabs onto your thigh, kissing your pussy through the fabric.
You moan, rewarding Jean with another comb through his hair. Nails dig a little deeper, again testing both his and your limits. 
He sighs in bliss, pulling you closer to bury his face against your panties, kissing your clit, you nearly falter. 
Jean’s mouth opens to slot over your pussy, licking the thin fabric for a taste of the slick that’s soaked through. 
“Yes…just like that…” Your fingers massage Jean’s scalp, a command to continue. 
“You taste phenomenal. I’ve been dying to have you like this all night.”
Moans float from your mouth and cascade to the floor; you can’t stop yourself from bucking your hips to match the rhythm of Jean’s mouth. 
He pushes back, though his lips linger above your waistband, fingers hooking into the sides.
Your hand moves from his scalp to stroke his face, restoring his gaze.   
He’s a man enchanted, face flushed, and pupils dilated. He’s absolutely pussy-drunk.
You thumb his swollen lips, stained with your lipstick. His mouth opens a little wider with a hunger that gnaws at your stomach. 
You tug on his lower lip. “Use this.” You drop your hand, sliding your leg from his shoulder.
Jean’s quick to understand. He grabs your hips, fingers reaching to grope your ass as he takes the side of your underwear in his teeth. He drags it down, switching to the other side to do the same, eyes going skywards to ensure that he has your full attention. 
It takes some time, but you’re grateful that Jean’s hasty. Any longer and you would have asked him to rip the lace. When they reach your knees, you and Jean lack any more patience. He pulls them off in one fell swoop of his hands. 
Your leg comes astride his shoulder again, a sharp breath digging deep in your chest, fixating on the view below. 
Jean’s eyes reach yours, his breath hot and humid against your pussy. “I’m gonna devour you.”
And he’s all in, tongue thrusting into you, nose nudging your clit. 
You whimper, grabbing onto Jean’s hair for leverage, savoring the feel of his mouth. You’re so sensitive, already so close to the edge. Your body moves on its own, hips bucking to grind against Jean’s face. 
He eats you out with desperation, hungry to please, as though he’s been waiting for this moment all night long. His fingers press into your hips, a beautiful, bruising pain. 
He doesn’t stop to pull for air, nor does he resist your hand guiding him for deeper contact. It’s like there’s nowhere he’d rather be. 
Gasps burst out of your mouth, aware of nothing else but Jean between your legs. Your mind is close to slipping away, but as you toe the edge of ecstasy, you release Jean’s hair to tap him urgently on the shoulder. 
He draws away, slack-jawed, threads of drool and slick breaking apart.
“Bed,” you breathe. “On your back. I want to ride you.”
With that incentive, Jean’s on his feet one second, and plopped onto his bed the next. He’s so tall, he takes up most of the space. That doesn’t matter, however, as you crawl on top of him, taking his wrists and bounding them at the sides. 
You inch closer to his face. Jean lifts his head to meet your lips. The kiss is hungrier than ever, and at the feel of Jean’s bulge between your legs, it’s clear that you both have starved long enough. 
Pushing back, you slide off, searching the floor. 
You swipe up your clutch, tossing it away a second later to flash the wrapped condom, ready to tear it open.
Jean props himself on his elbows, shaking his head. “It won’t fit.”
Your brain lags, at first, but lowering your gaze at Jean’s crotch, it dawns on you. Your finger hooks into the waistband of his underwear, drooling at the impossible to ignore outline of his cock.
Jean grabs something from the drawer of his nightstand. “Here.”
He hands you another condom—a more sizeable one. 
You blink, taking it, and drag his boxers away. 
Jean’s cock springs up, slapping your wrist.
It’s…big. 
You stare, mouth agape, unsure if you want to suck him off or ride him. 
“It’s waiting on you,” Jean rasps.
You look up to meet his smile, more humble than smug. He grabs hold of his cock, stroking along the skin, rubbing past the thick vein plunging down the base. 
He takes your hand gently, guiding you to stroke him. 
When he lets go, you’re stunned with how fucking heavy it is, mind spinning with how much it’ll stretch you out. 
Not wasting anymore time, you tug on his boxers and pants. He lifts up, pushing them down to assist and he’s naked underneath you. 
After sliding the condom on, you straddle his lap, ripping your dress off, giving Jean a moment to play with your tits and appraise your body. 
“Stunning…” he purrs, the word scrapes against his throat.  
“I’m going to ride you now Jean.”
He nods, hands on your hips. “Please do.”
You brace yourself with a deep inhale, still in awe as to how all this will fit inside you. Regardless, with the help of Jean’s large hands, you lift up, biting your lip as you slowly sink onto his cock. 
The stretch is immediate, tender, and intoxicating. Still, you’re careful, taking your time, relishing in the feel of your pussy sucking him in, bit by bit.
You catch Jean watching his cock disappear inside of you, his mouth hanging open. 
Sinking further, you gasp, already so full before you’ve taken all of him. It’s like time came to a still just for you to embrace the moment he’s fully sheathed inside of you. 
Jean waits for a signal, patience stuttering from the twitch of his dick. He’s traveled so far into a trance, the only way for you to reach him is to move. 
It’s a tentative start, a roll of your hips to ensure you still feel comfortable. 
Jean hisses, squeezing your hips. A muscle ticks in his jaw and your pussy spasms. You’re done being cautious. 
You lean forward, splaying your hands across his toned chest for support and bounce on his cock. 
Jean lets out a choked moan.
You ride him, moving up and down, gasping from the stretch and slide of his dick against your walls. The momentum builds as your hips move faster. 
Your thighs ache, and you fight against it. But your muscles cramp up for a bit, forcing your hands to slide forward from Jean’s chest to his shoulders. 
His hands leave your hips, taking your wrists. 
Your pace dials down, blinking in surprise when he wraps your hands around his neck. 
“Make it tighter,” comes Jean’s ragged breath. 
You apply pressure, stunned to feel the beating of his pulse quicken. You try to pull back, but Jean presses his hands over yours.
“A little harder.”
A low groan slips past Jean’s mouth, his Adam’s apple rolling against your palm. He gives you a delirious smile that curls down your spine. 
He’s at your mercy. He wants to be at your mercy, and it ignites a new flame inside of you.
With a firm grasp on his neck, your tongue dives into his mouth.
“Touch me,” you say against his lips, building up speed again. 
Jean’s thumb finds your clit, swallowing hard when you moan. 
You don’t mean to squeeze harder, but Jean’s dick jolts anyway. 
The momentum triples, your pussy tightens around Jean, and with another look at him—hooded eyes and gaping mouth—you cum, pleasure pulsating through every nerve. 
Your orgasm loosens your hold on Jean’s neck, but you continue to ride it out, despite the trembling thighs. 
Jean takes care of the rest, taking your hips to thrust into you, cock twitching and a satisfied moan echoing in your ears.  
Your movements become meager, thighs cramped, energy drained. Jean’s cock softens, you fall to his chest, wiggling off his lap. He’s so big, your pussy feels hollow without it.
Jean heaves a deep breath, an arm snaking around your back. He reaches behind you to slip off the condom and tosses it aside. 
Time moves again, your breathing evens out, head clearing that you’ve become aware of Jean’s fingers trailing up and down your spine. 
You look up, exchanging a tired smile with his. “You like getting choked?”
His smile broadens, a blush paints his face. “Sometimes. I like it when a woman takes the reins.”
You huff a tired laugh, replaying the image of Jean moaning with your hands wrapped around his throat. You’re all for equal share in the bedroom, but sometimes a part of you burned to take the lead. Though you don’t mind the opposite either.
“And other times,” Jean continues, stroking up your back until his fingers tangle into your hair. It’s a gentle pull, though firm enough to drive his next point with a devilish look. “I like to have total control.”
A new fantasy pricks your mind, a visual of Jean standing before you with you on your knees. You swallow that thought for now, remembering Ymir’s words.
“Keep it open-ended.”
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☻ masterpost☻
taglist: @moonmalice @daisynik7 @theragethatisdesire @squidalapobre @arlerts-angel
800 notes · View notes
mangohedgehog · 1 year
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Chapter 1: It's Freezing
18+ NSFW, MDNI
PAIRING: Jean Kirstein x Fem!Reader (with minor Eren Jaeger x Reader)
SUMMARY: [Modern AU] North Paradis is lovely this time of year. Lovely, but freezing.
On vacation from Marley, you and your friends stay at a modest inn overlooking the ocean in a rural part of the island of Paradis. The unit isn't anything special, but in the back patio is a hot tub. How better to deal with the cold than to take a dip?
Surely nothing could go wrong.
FEATURING: All Characters 18+ (S4) - Minors DNI, Jean Kirstein, Eren Jaeger, Pieck Finger, Annie Leonhart, Connie Springer
(Jealous Jean Kirstein, Flirty Eren Jaeger, Reader is bad at flirting)
A/N: For my fellow Jean simps freezing this winter 🎁
First fic post and also my first-ever smut fic 🙈 Still getting comfortable with the subject matter (and writing in general tbh), but I had fun with this! The premise was directly inspired by a true story (not the spicy parts lmao). I have some ideas bouncing around in my head and might eventually turn this into a miniseries if there’s interest and/or inspiration strikes. Let me know!
Enjoy ❤️
WC: 9K
READ ON AO3
CW: vanilla, fingering, handjob, vaginal sex (protected), semi-public, mild oral, mild alcohol consumption, swearing, praise, porn with plot
mᥲkᥱ mᥱ ωᥲrm: it's freezing
“Why aren’t you dressed?” Pieck, wrapped in a towel, stood in your doorway with hands on her hips. “That jacuzzi isn’t gonna jac-use itself.”
You clutched the corners of the blanket crumpled at your feet, pulled it all the way over your head, and groaned dramatically in protest.
“Girl, we’re only in Paradis once! Get your ass out of bed!”
Your head poked out from the covers. “Girl,” you mocked, “it’s almost eleven, it’s freezing outside, and I’m tired.”
“Come on, even Annie’s ready.”
You craned your neck to see your quiet friend, towel thrown over her shoulder, standing with her arms crossed behind Pieck. With what looked like murderous intent, Annie’s eyes drilled into yours.
Nothing you hadn’t seen before, yet it still took everything in your power not to jump at the sight.
“Fuck, fine,” you sighed. “But you’re taking the first driving shift tomorrow.”
“You say that like I haven’t already been doing all the driving,” Pieck scoffed. “We’ll keep the tub warm for you!”
And with that, she skipped out of view, followed by Annie, who made no attempt to match Pieck’s energetic pace.
You allowed yourself one more minute in the comfort of your bed before rolling onto the floor and fishing a swimsuit from your suitcase. Damn Annie and her scary-ass face.
“Shit!” you hissed as your bare limbs were met with the sharp sting of the night’s air. You tiptoed around the puddles on the deck, wondering how they hadn’t frozen over. The door clicked shut behind you, taking with it all the lovely warmth of the great indoors, as your toes turned to icicles on their journey across an endless stretch of damp wood.
“Look who finally made it!” Pieck chirped just as you dropped your towel atop the others.
At this moment, you were convinced Pieck was the absolute worst.
But only four steps later and she was suddenly the absolute best.
Your eyelids slid shut on their own volition as you sank into the bubbling heat. It fizzed through the gaps of your one-piece and massaged the goosebumps back into your skin. That cold attitude from earlier melted away in seconds.
“Ahh,” you breathed. “I don’t know what I was thinking, Pieck. Thanks for dragging me out here.”
“What would you two do without me?” said Pieck, shaking her head.
“I’d be at peace,” Annie deadpanned.
“Aw, Annie, come on! You love me.”
“I love you, Pieck!” you said, throwing an arm around her shoulder and, in the process, splashing water straight into Annie’s face.
The corners of Annie’s lips twitched almost hesitantly before twisting ever so slightly upwards. The smile dropped right off your face.
Before you knew it, waves of hot water pelted against your cheek, the taste of chlorine circling your mouth as you laughed along with the others. Your hands were useless as shields against Annie’s strength, so you switched from defense to offense. She would have pummeled you one-on-one, but with Pieck’s help, you managed to give her enough competition to accept a truce.
The three of you soon settled down into calm chatter, a soft melody over the jets’ gurgling percussion. Ocean waves crashed against a distant shore, foamy crests glistening under the moonlight. Nothing like the murky waters that cuffed the bustling harbor of Liberio.
At some point, the hot tub’s glow faded and the bubbles dissolved into stillness. You figured it was on a timer of some sort, but the water was still plenty hot enough to continue relaxing with your friends.
You peeked over floating picket fences into the connected patios of your neighbors at the inn. Every jacuzzi was covered, and every curtain was drawn. Only yours and the unit next door still had lights on inside. You didn’t have your phone on you to confirm, but judging from your neighbors retiring for the night and the chilly breeze that just picked up, you could tell it was nearing midnight.
“All right,” you said, rubbing your arms to transfer a final bit of warmth into your bones. “This has been great, but I’m gonna call it a night.”
“I’ll leave in a bit,” said Pieck while waving her arm.
You looked to Annie, who was comfortably submerged up to her lips with her eyes closed. Without sparing you a glance, she hummed out a few bubbles in acknowledgement.
After a deep breath, you hoisted yourself back onto the deck, met immediately with a gust of wind that nearly froze every droplet on your body. Cursing profusely under your breath, you picked up the tiny piece of fabric meant to be a towel, which was now just as damn cold as the weather. You held your breath while hastily rubbing dry the goosebumps bursting all over your skin.
You would soon be back in the warmth of your bed, you promised yourself, clutching the ends of your towel over your chest. You turned the door handle—
It didn’t budge.
Not to worry, it probably just needed a little jiggle. You jiggled the handle—
It remained unyielding.
Every cell in your body denied that door handle’s reluctance. It simply had to open.
You cranked it aggressively now, but it continued to taunt you with its rock solidness.
“This can’t be happening,” you groaned, voice wavering as panic began to wash over you. “This can’t—!”
Clunk!
“Be—!”
Clunk!
“Happening!”
Clunk!  
The handle clattered as you released your grip. You faced the tub, where Pieck and Annie sat with faces paled and mouths ajar.
“Please,” you begged, “please tell me one of you has the key.”
Each looked expectantly at the other before Annie spoke up, “It’s locked?” 
“No, I’m just standing out here half-naked in the freezing cold for fun.”
“Shit,” came Pieck’s realization.
You shuffled a few steps to the side and peered into the dining area through the gap in the curtains. On the communal table within arm’s reach of the window lay the keys, teasing you with the way they twinkled—so close, yet so far away. There was no sign in sight with any mention of the back door automatically locking itself. Only one that read, “Please take off your shoes.” Helpful.
You announced your findings to the group.
“Either of you have your phone?” Pieck asked, with a tone indicating she already knew the answer.
“No,” you and Annie responded in unison.
“Maybe we can break the window,” Pieck suggested.
You scoffed through chattering teeth, then knocked on the window with a solid thud. “These windows are probably triple-paned with how cold it gets in Northern Paradis. I doubt even Annie could break through that.”
“And I’m not ready to pay a fee for property damage,” Annie agreed.
“Maybe there’s an emergency number posted at the front kiosk,” Pieck said. “But… I guess there’s no use if we don’t have our phones.”
“There’s nowhere we can walk to, is there?” Annie asked.
“No,” Pieck sighed. “This place was a fucking steal, but it’s literally in the middle of nowhere.”
“When does the office open tomorrow? I might just stay in here for the night.”
“Didn’t the heat shut off?” you asked.
“Yeah,” Pieck confirmed. “You’ll die of hypothermia. Wouldn’t have to pay any fees, though.”
“Hmph,” Annie grunted.
You scanned the yard, dim under the light spilling from your window. Your eyes trailed over the grass, the fence, then landed on the still-bright windows of your neighbor.
“Okay,” you breathed. “It’s already really late, and if we wait any longer, there might be no one awake left to ask for help. The neighbors might have a phone we can borrow.” 
Pieck nodded and glanced to the side at nothing in particular. “Well, since you’re already out—“
“I’ll go knock,” you agreed begrudgingly, clenching your hands tightly around your towel. “If they turn out to be creeps, you better back me up, Annie.”
She raised her palm but otherwise did not budge from the water. “Give me the word and I’ll murder them.”
You made your way down the stairs on aching, tingling toes. Straw-like grass scratched the sides of your feet as you hopped around the fence into the adjacent yard. Muffled voices came from inside, sparse but a definite indicator of life. You drew in a long breath through your nose, and let it out slowly through pursed lips.
You transferred your weight carefully onto one leg as you took the first step up to their deck. Sure, you were about to knock on their back door to get their attention, but you didn’t want to lead with spooky creaking noises if you could help it. One step at a time, you made your way up while straining to keep your breaths silent.
The door towered before you, salty air peeling away at the forest-green paint. It was supposedly identical to yours, but it seemed intimidatingly larger. But as ridiculous as it sounded, this was a life or death situation. Stranger danger would have to take a back seat for now.
You turned back once more toward the hot tub, where Pieck flashed a quick thumbs up for encouragement.
Another deep breath. A quiet “fuck it” on the exhale.
One hand still holding your towel in place, you rapped on the door twice.
The thumping in your chest grew louder. Your knees danced back and forth. There was no response. The muffled voices were gone now. Had they heard you?
You readied your fist again then noticed something from the corner of your eye. The curtains in the room beside the door were partially open to the back of someone’s head. A damp, ashy-brown mullet spilled onto a bare shoulder. The phone in his hand wobbled in and out of view. He appeared to be video chatting with a woman.
A shiver burst through your body and you snapped your gaze back to the door. You had just wanted to check that someone was awake but felt a little shameful for disturbing the person’s privacy.
Arm still raised, you struck the door more firmly this time.
It swung open almost immediately. Warmth poured over you from their blasting radiator. The shadow of the door was replaced with the shadow of broad shoulders.
The person before you sported a gray shirt and black sweats over a clearly very fit frame. Striking emerald eyes glowed brightly beneath a set of full brows. Wisps of dark hair framed his face, with half of the rest effortlessly pulled into a bun and the other half hanging freely down his neck.
Blood rushed to your face and began to thaw your stiff features.
He was hot, to say the least.
A deep crease formed between his brows. “Who the fuck are you?”
You could only mumble, “I, uh… I…”
Pull it together! This was life or death, you reminded yourself.
You cleared your throat. “Sorry to bother you. We’re staying in the unit next door, and—“
“We?”
“My friends—“ You gestured toward them. Pieck, still comfortably leaning against the wall of the jacuzzi, smiled and waved at the stranger. “And myself.”
“Okay,” he said, drawing out the second syllable.
“Long story short, the door locked behind us when we got in the hot tub, and now we’re trapped out here without shoes or clothes or phones—“
The breeze picked up. “And it’s cold as fuck,” you hissed, shoulders inching up toward your ears.
“Shit,” he commiserated.
“Could I borrow your phone?”
“Uh, yeah,” he mumbled, digging a hand into his pocket to retrieve the shiny brick. “Need me to look up the number to this place?”
You nodded. “Yeah, thanks, that’d be great.”
He tapped around on his phone while you shifted your legs back and forth to keep the blood flowing. Apparently not trusting you with the device, he brought the phone up to his own ear, eyes glancing somewhere in the night sky.
Brrrr, it rang.
Once. Twice. A third time.
You stopped counting when another person came into view in the hallway behind the dining room. The guy with the mullet you had accidentally spied on just minutes ago.
It turned out that bare shoulder of his was connected to a fully bare torso. Even from a distance you could make out the contours of his muscles, their shadows accentuated by some chest hair that trailed down his sternum, disappearing past his rib cage and reappearing just below his belly button.
What the hell kind of situation was this? You, a sad wet puppy, at the doorstep of these two insanely attractive men?! This had to be a fever dream of some sort. A hypothermia-induced coma, perhaps.
You met his gaze, which was striking in a completely different way from the first guy’s. Deeply set beneath angled brows that creased at the corners were a pair of glowering eyes, their golden pupils piercing your skull. His angry glare could give Annie’s a run for its money.
He leaned against the far wall and crossed his arms over a set of impressive pecs. His intense eyes locked on you.
“No one’s picking up,” the closer one said. He began to tap again at his phone screen.
You groaned through quivering lips and buried your forehead into your palm. “Is there a locksmith awake at this hour?”
He scoffed. “There isn’t a town for an hour in either direction.”
“Eren, you jackass,” the guy at the back spoke up, voice deep with a roughness to it that suited the scowl he wore.
Eren, who had seemed decently level-headed until now, spun his head around and snapped, “The fuck are you doing just standing there?!”
The mullet guy’s gaze lingered on you for a moment before switching to his friend. “It’s like you want her to freeze to death,” he said flatly. “Let her inside, Dumbass.”
As he turned back to you, Eren muttered under his breath, “Always such a pain in my ass.” He leaned toward you unexpectedly, the proximity turning your shivering body rigid. And then his head turned toward your yard.
Ah. He was looking over at Pieck and Annie. You exhaled away the tension in your joints as he pulled back.
“You guys wanna come in?” he asked you, voice back to its initial nonchalant tone.
You hesitated before agreeing, gesturing to the girls to join you to avoid walking into a stranger’s dwelling alone and defenseless.
Pieck wasted no time in hopping over the threshold. Annie’s eyes shot daggers at the two men as she followed. Eren definitely flinched a little, which brought you some comfort.
He shut the door behind you with a sickeningly familiar click.
“Make yourselves comfortable, I guess,” he said, waving his hand in the direction of the dining table. While you were shuffling in, the shirtless guy disappeared. You figured he had gone back to his room.
Soapy steam lingered in the air, a pleasant complement to the dry radiator heat. The machine clicked and hummed in the corner of the room with a familiarity that eased your nerves.
A couple pairs of shoes had been tossed lazily against the wall of the foyer just behind the common area. A bag of groceries—or junk food, rather—lay atop the center of the fading slab of wood meant for dining. Three empty cups of instant noodles, one tipped onto its side, sat beside it. 
As you shuffled through the gap between the chairs and wall, Eren began stacking the scattered cups.
“First time in Paradis?” he asked as he tossed the stack into the small waste bin by the door.
“Yeah, we’re visiting from Marley,” you answered, spreading your towel onto the seat before plopping your wet butt down.
“Liberio,” Pieck added, doing the same with her own seat.
“Oh, city girls, huh?” he chuckled. “Liberio’s nice. I’ve been a few times.”
“What about you?” Pieck asked.
“Me? I’m a local. From the South.” He coolly slid into the chair next to you and leaned onto his forearms. “Though I don’t like to stay in one place for too long.”
You and Pieck hummed in acknowledgment, then the conversation lulled for a moment as the four of you settled into this uncomfortable situation. Under the bright ceiling lights, you were painfully aware of how exposed you were, scooting your chair in as far as it would go.
Your attention shifted to the jingling of keys followed by a long creak at the entryway. As the door shut, Mullet Man re-emerged from the hallway. He wore the same joggers from before but his top was now covered up under a white shirt.
He brushed a hand through his locks. “Damn, it’s cold as fuck out there,” he said, looking with confused awe directly at you, who had somehow managed to stand out there for so long while also wet. His eyes were like lasers��only moments ago you were on the verge of frostbite, and now you were burning, sweat beginning to pool on the back of your neck.
“Where’d you go?” Eren asked.
The guy freed you from his suffocating gaze. “I swung by reception. It’s closed, but I figured there was a chance someone might be around.” He leaned onto the back of the chair at the head of the table.
“So?”
He shook his head. “No dice.”
“Damn,” Eren sighed.
You rubbed your face in exhaustion. “Well, thanks for, uh—“ That stare swallowed your words. Seriously, his eyes had to be cursed or something. “Thanks for checking.”
“Could we stay here for the night?” Pieck suggested with a nervous lilt. “We’ll stay out of your way.”
Eren and his friend shared a hesitant look. They leaned toward each other and tucked their chins down.
“What are you thinking, Jean?” you heard Eren whisper to his friend. You probably weren’t supposed to listen, but you were within earshot and couldn’t help it.
Jean, formerly the Mullet Man, scratched the scruff along his jaw. “You think Connie would mind?”
“Nah, he’s out cold.”
Jean’s focus flickered to you so briefly that you could have merely imagined it.
“I’m cool with it if you are,” he said in a low rumble.
Eren turned to you and your friends. “Fine with us,” he answered Pieck.
You sighed in relief, then eagerly suggested, “We can pay for the—“
Annie’s eyes sprung open and trapped you in their icy snare.
“I can pay,” you corrected, “whatever your nightly rate is.”
“No,” Jean abruptly refused. “There’s no need for that.”
“There has to be something we can do to thank you,” you insisted.
“No. Don’t worry about it.”
Yep, just about as scary as Annie. Perhaps even worse, taking into consideration his intimidating stature at probably twice her size. His chest rose and fell as he sighed, the memory of his uncovered pecs causing the tips of your ears to burn.
“I’ll get a sheet for the couch,” Jean continued, nodding his chin toward the loveseat tucked into the corner at the other end of the table. “Probably won’t fit all three of you, though.”
“I’ll stay up,” Annie said before finishing with a convincing threat, “and keep watch.”
Eren scoffed nervously. “All right.”
Jean took his leave.
“If you guys wanna shower, feel free. There’re still a couple clean towels in there,” Eren said, standing up and stretching his arms. He pointed to the hallway. “I’m gonna grab a beer if anyone wants one.”
“Yes and yes.” Pieck chirped. She followed Eren into the kitchen while Jean shuffled around somewhere at the other end of the hall.
The two returned a few moments later, Pieck with three cans in hand.
“One for you.” She set one down firmly in front of you. “One for you.” Then the other one in front of Annie.
Ignoring the immediate protests that came from both of you, she continued, “And one for me. Courtesy of…?”
It took a moment for him to register her unasked question. “Eren,” he introduced himself. “And that’s Jean in the back. He’s from the South, too.” You had gathered as much.
Pieck took the liberty of introducing the three of you, sharing some of the details of your vacation in Paradis. You couldn’t help but wonder if Jean was listening, wherever he disappeared to.
The man in question came back with much more than a single sheet in hand. Squeezed lazily between his forearm and torso were bedsheets, two pillows, a thermal blanket, and a few clean shirts.
“Housekeeping’s here,” Eren declared, earning a snicker out of Pieck and yourself.
“Shut up and help me set up,” Jean hissed with venom, shoving the sheets into Eren’s arms.
“Here,” you said, standing up and reaching a hand out toward them. “I can help with that.”
Just before Eren could hand you the pile, Jean snatched it back out of his hand. Without a word, Jean made his way toward the couch. His jaw rippled from the clenching of his teeth.
You weren’t sure whether to feel thankful or scared.
Regardless, you were certain this would be a long night.
The clock on the wall by that damn auto-locking back door read thirty minutes to one.
Your body was prepared to shut down, but your mind was on edge. Annie had migrated to the couch, where she leaned against the back cushion and bobbed her head, trying to cover up the fact that she was nodding off despite some pretty big threats earlier. Eren had returned to his seat next to you, his entire attention directed your way after Pieck left—what the hell was taking her so long, anyway? And, of all the seats, the one where Jean chose to plant himself just had to be the one directly across from you, where his long legs kept bumping into your knees.
And, worst of all…
That cursed glare.
A cramp pulled at the muscles in your legs from how tense you had been since Pieck left you behind for her stupid shower beer. You shifted in your seat, tugging down on the hem of the T-shirt Jean had lent you.
You held your focus on Eren, whose gaze did not burn you the way that Jean’s did. Eren had been asking you questions about Marley, paused to take a few gulps of beer, then swiped a tongue over his lips as he looked back at you.
“Best ice cream in Liberio,” you added to your previous comment.
“You can take me there the next time I visit,” he responded, a corner of his lips curving up.
“Sure, I’ll buy all the ice cream you want for helping us out tonight,” you chuckled.
“All the ice cream I want? Good deal, I should just move to Liberio, then.”
“Wait until you see rent prices in the city,” you laughed. “Not even all the ice cream in the world would make it worth it.”
“Well, there’s more than just ice cream in Liberio.” His eyes narrowed on you as he took a slow draw of his beer.
The pores on your forehead strained to hold back the sweat trying to push through them. You weren’t entirely sure what Eren was getting at, and while you were mildly excited by the prospect of him being interested in you, it was surface-level. There was something beneath his words that irked you. Something disingenuous.
“I guess the weather’s nicer,” you deflected with a forced smile.
“Hey,” Jean cut in before his friend could reply, nudging your knee with his.
His electric touch jolted up your spine, and your knee jerked back instinctively.
“You warm enough now?” he asked.
You struggled and failed to meet those overwhelming eyes, so you peered out the window behind him instead. “Yes, so glad I’m not dead in a block of ice right now.”
“You look warm to me,” Eren chimed in with a sly grin. “I’d even say you look pretty hot now.”
You bit into your cheek and glanced at the ceiling, hoping he and Jean couldn't detect the waves of heat your face was emitting. “Hotter than dead, for sure,” you said through nervous laughter.
Like water poured over the flame of a match, the tension that had been lingering in the air around you fizzled away.
Jean’s glare had migrated to Eren.
“A lot hotter than dead,” Eren insisted, leaning toward you.
A lot hotter, indeed—your face was on fire at this point.
You forced out a breathy chuckle. He was clearly flirting with you, right? What should you say? How would a cool, confident person respond? 
“Yeah, it’s, uh… It’s really warm in here.” Well, definitely not like that.
Jean scoffed. The sound of his large hand smacking against the tabletop sliced through the air. The room seemed to jump in unison.
“Shit, what the—!” came Annie’s panicked voice.
Jean was up on his feet now, eyes darkened. “I’m going to bed,” he snarled, stalking into the dark hallway without sparing a single glance back.
“What’s going on?” your groggy friend slurred.
“Don’t worry about him,” Eren, waving a dismissive hand in the air, responded to you rather than Annie. “Jean’s always mad about something or another.”
You looked at the empty space, wondering if he might reemerge from around the corner in a bit. Who was this ever-angry dude, who kept disappearing and reappearing like a mirage? And why did you care so much?
Especially when not long ago he was on a call, shirtless , with a woman.
Your conversation with Eren was cut short by Pieck returning with a relaxed grin and an empty can in hand. Since Annie had once again passed out, you bid the group farewell as you took your turn in the shower.
As soon as you hopped in, you realized why Pieck had taken so long. The water coursed over you like a hot blanket, and it was a struggle, to say the least, to exchange that comfort for your swimsuit and Jean’s shirt. But just as you had powered through the rest of this strange night, you did what you had to do and dried off with the help of a blow dryer.
By the time you returned to the common area, the clock’s hour hand approached two, Pieck and Annie were fast asleep on the couch, and Eren was nowhere to be seen. Cans were strewn about the room, silver tops glinting under the buzzing overhead light. Some towels were bunched up in piles, others hanging over the backs of chairs.
You began cleaning up, figuring it was the least you could do for your hosts.
After neatly hanging the towels consolidated atop one chair, you gathered the cans. Annie hadn’t finished hers, and with how warm it had gotten you were certain no one would want the leftovers.
You hugged the pile of empty containers precariously in one arm, then dumped them out in the waste bin by the back door. Beer sloshing around in the last can in your hand, you made your way to the kitchen. On your way, you used an elbow to shut off the light for your sleeping friends. 
You treaded carefully over the chipping tiles below, squinting your eyes as you navigated through the dark. Your outstretched hand soon found the sink, where you dumped the remainder of the beer, then tossed the can into the trash bin in the cabinet below. You rubbed your hands together and let out a content breath.
The sound of steady footfalls approached from behind. Perhaps one of your friends had woken up from the noise.
You spun around to apologize—
“Jean?” 
“Who were you expecting?” Jean’s eyes slitted as he crossed his arms. “Eren’s asleep. Are you disappointed?”
“Huh?” you let out.
“What’s so great about him, anyway?” he mumbled as if to himself.
You tilted your head. “Do you have a problem with him?”
“No. And clearly neither do you.”
“What are you getting at?”
“You know what I’m getting at.”
Brows knitted together in confusion, you sharply whispered, “No, I don’t. You’ve been pissed at Eren all night.”
Jean scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“Are you jealous or something?” you pressed.
His muscles tensed up, the bob of his Adam's apple the only movement visible in the dim light leaking from his open door down the hall. “No,” he strained.
A knowing smirk pulled at the corner of your lip. “You’re jealous.”
“No.”
“Why are you jealous of him?”
“I’m not jealous,” he hissed, brows deeply furrowed and fists clenched at his sides.
“Then why are you so angry?”
“Because!” he rasped. “Your horny asses have been flirting in my face all fucking night!”
You sucked in a sharp breath. Had Jean been jealous of Eren over you? It couldn’t be. Everything about Jean’s behavior tonight seemed to indicate irritation rather than interest in you. “You have a crush on Eren?” you deadpanned the only other possibility.
“No, I—what?” He released an exasperated sigh and ran his hands through the sides of his hair. “Are you stupid?”
“Just give me a clear answer.”
His eyes bounced across the room until they eventually settled on yours. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all night.” His deep voice wavered.
Your chest fluttered. You tried to keep your cool through controlled, manual breaths. “Yeah? Well, the creepy staring doesn’t exactly make you the most approachable person around.”
His eyes widened. “I-I, uh… I was staring?”
What was this? The man behind the glare that had been tormenting you all night, behind those eyes that you thought held you in disdain… was really just an endearingly awkward dork underneath it all?
“You didn’t realize?” you uttered, brain flip-flopping inside your skull as it reprocessed everything from the past couple of hours.
“Damn,” he sighed under his breath, then scratched the back of his neck.
“So… We’re talking now. What did you want to say to me?”
Hesitation.
Jean continued to massage his shoulder for a moment, biting his lip as his gaze jumped between you and the wall behind. He looked pretty damn cute, all flustered like this.
But it only lasted a moment, because by the next he had taken a confident step toward you, that awkwardness melting away into darkness.
“Are you warm now?” His voice had returned from that fleeting stutter to a low rumble.
A shiver ran down your spine, giving you your answer, “Could be warmer, I guess.” You rubbed your hands over your upper arms. “Anything else you wanted to say to me?”
What answer did you even want to hear from him? As he took another step forward, the thumping of your heart accelerated. The hands of anxiety—or perhaps excitement—clasped themselves around your throat, stealing your breath.
“You’re here on vacation, yeah?” 
“Yeah?” was all you could squeeze out.
Another step forward. “From Liberio.”
“… Yeah.”
Another step. Close enough now that the warmth of his chest radiated into yours. “How are those Marley boys treating you back home?”
Every muscle in your body froze solid. So much for having spent the last couple hours thawing. “That’s what you wanted to talk to me about?”
Jean’s chest rose and fell in shallow movements, mirroring yours. He leaned toward you and whispered, “Tell me…” Hot breath teased your lips. “Are you warm now?”
Every faculty of your body broke down. How did one think? How did one breathe? How did one even stand without their knees buckling? Fueling your organs in place of biology now was desire. To meet those soft lips that patiently awaited you. For those large hands hanging by his sides to run all over your body.
But a moment of clarity like the sudden crack of lightning flashed through your mind.
You regained function of your body, pulled yourself away and backed into the counter, then almost incoherently breathed out, “The woman on the phone…”
“Wha…”
“You were talking to someone earlier.” Your voice was a crisp whisper now.
His brows furrowed, accompanied by the rippling of his jaw as his teeth clenched together. There was a flicker of shadow under his eyes as his lower lids twitched in what looked like irritation.
Fuck. You just exposed yourself as a spying creep.
“You mean… my mom?” he strained.
“Your—? Huh?”
He released his breath, relaxing his expression as he averted his gaze. In the dim light, you noticed a faint dusting of pink across his cheeks.
He clicked his tongue. “Yeah, she uh… She freaks out if I don’t show her I’m alive every once in a while.”
Relief washed over you. A fuzzy feeling swirled inside your gut and bubbled up to the surface as laughter.
“You’re laughing at me?” he snapped, failing to conceal his embarrassment as his cheeks grew brighter.
Grin unwilling to leave your face, you nearly sang in exhalation, “You’re single.”
You closed the gap between you to a hair’s width, eyes fluttering between his dilated pupils.
Jean’s forehead hovered just above yours. His gaze dropped to your smile. “Yeah,” his breath grazed your lips once again.
You grew woozier with each steamy exhalation, and before you knew it, you had caught his lower lip between yours, eagerly pressing into his warmth. Then slowly, as if it pained you, you tugged his lip back toward you until it bounced back to where you had stolen it from.
“Fuck,” he breathed, wasting no time in scooping your jaw in his calloused hand and pulling you back into his open mouth. His other hand traced softly down the length of your upper arm and found a home above your hips.
He swallowed the yelp that left your mouth, and he echoed with a low grunt.
That was the discomfort you felt all night. As his fingers trailed from your jaw to the back of your neck, as he moved his mouth on yours like it had always belonged there, as you sunk into the perfect fit of his embrace, your oblivious little brain rejoiced in epiphany. It wasn’t Jean you were scared of—it was the feeling that knotted your stomach when you looked in his eyes. A desire you refused to acknowledge because you thought it would remain unfulfilled, thanks to the assumptions you made from creeping on him through his window.
His tongue tasted minty against yours, like he had already been prepared to kiss you. His movements were sloppy around the edges, with genuine hunger.
“Make me fucking warm, Jean,” you begged breathlessly, bunching up the hem of the borrowed shirt around you.
“I’m gonna make you melt.” He pulled the shirt clean over your head, letting it fall to the floor. “Until this floor’s soaked in you.”
He pushed further into you. The cool edge of the counter dug into your lower back.
Your hands snuck under his shirt, fingers exploring the memory of his muscular torso. And soon it was as bare as it was when you first saw him, his shirt joining yours on the floor. Every touch a desperate grasp at unwinding the mystery shuttered behind those magnetic eyes.
His hand, squeezed between your bodies, snaked slowly and deliberately down your center, stopping just below your belly button.
“Can I keep going?” he whispered into your ear. Teasing you, as if your breathy pleas for more weren’t enough.
You placed a hand over his and guided him the rest of the way down, gasping as he pressed into his target. He secured his other arm behind you so that your back squeezed into his palm now instead of the countertop.
Your hips squirmed desperately against the pressure of his fingers on your spandex-covered folds, eager to feel the direct friction of his hot skin against yours. He rubbed circles into those sensitive nerves, drawing out from you a soft whine. You squeezed his fingers between your thighs, squirming as you struggled to stay silent.
“So wet for me already,” he muttered into your ear. “Are you melting so soon?” You could hear the teasing smile in his words.
“If we’re getting wet, it’s a good thing I’m wearing a swimsuit,” you joked through heavy panting, continuing to grind against his hand.
“Been wanting to rip that damn thing off all night,” he groaned against the skin of your neck, voice strained as he pressed his hardening bulge into your hips.
The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You wanted every one of those words to play out. For him to tear this suffocating fabric straight off you and fuck you right there. But…
“Not yet,” you whispered.
You pushed a palm firmly against his chest to create just enough distance for your other hand to slither down the length of his torso until they reached the stiff tent of his sweats.
His jaw dropped, but dedicated fingers continued to circle into you as you squeezed up his length between your spread knuckles over the thick fabric. He let out a low hum.
Heat rose within you until you were practically boiling, yet still desperate to feel the touch of his hot skin on yours. You peeled away his waistband and slid your hand down that delicious trail of hair to the base of his shaft.
“Shi—it ,” he lilted as you stroked him slowly, teasing him with the dry friction.
The movement of his fingers turned ragged as you stroked your hand down his length, your grip light as you traced over bulging veins.
Repositioning his hands at your waist, he pressed his forehead to yours. You smiled at his helpless pants and slid your mouth down his abdomen, licking along his sternum as you went.
His hips bucked up into your hand, eager for the promise of your tongue where he needed it most. An unrestrained, needy grunt spilled from his mouth.
A beautiful scene cut unfortunately short by Pieck mumbling something incoherent around the corner.
The sudden interruption paralyzed you and Jean, his cock still clutched in your hand and your jaw still slackened by his hips. You waited a moment, the thought of your friends catching you intertwined with a stranger radiating both fear and exhilaration through your body.
You jumped upon feeling his hands effortlessly lift you back up like a rag doll. “Let’s take this to my room,” he breathed in your ear.
You nodded with a sigh before he kissed you again. Damn, did this guy know how to kiss. Perhaps your brain stopped functioning as he stole the breath from you, because you were prepared to just carry on right there in the kitchen as you were. If it weren’t for him scooping you up by the rear, digging those long fingers into your tender flesh, and lifting you effortlessly through his door, you would’ve.
You were ready to be thrown onto the mattress, but he lowered you down with surprising gentleness. The stripped shirts that hung over his elbow fell to the ground. He used one arm to prop himself up as he resumed rubbing into your needy spot.
“So fucking pretty on my bed,” he said proudly in a throaty groan. Fueled by newfound privacy, he slipped two fingers under the strap then up your folds until they found your clit. Finally, skin against skin.
Lightning jolted up your body as he increased his pressure and pace. Your lips peeled open and released a moan that was cut off by a sudden kiss. You writhed underneath him as he swallowed your sputtering.
“We have to be quiet,” he rasped as he pulled away. “Can you do that for me, Baby?”
Baby. You bit your lip and nodded soundlessly.
Eyes glazed over, he stroked a thumb over your cheek. “Good girl.”
Jean hovered his mouth directly over yours in caution as he slid his fingers inside. His thumb rubbed continuously over your clit while his other fingers pumped into you, each movement different from the last as his digits strained against the band of your swimsuit.
He nipped at your earlobe. “Told you I’d make you melt,” he groaned, grinding his boner against your thigh in need of friction. “You’re dripping all over my sheets. Were you that desperate for me?”
You stuttered a curse under your breath, incapable of coherence at the moment.
His movements came to a halt. You squirmed your hips to move yourself around his fingers, but he pressed his free hand flat on your stomach to keep you still.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Tell me how bad you want me.”
There’d be time to feel embarrassed about your desperation later, but all you wanted now was more of Jean . “So fucking bad,” you choked.
He moaned through closed lips, resuming his movements but keeping them slow.
“Fuck, Jean, I’ve been wanting this all night,” you panted, spurring him on.
He hooked his fingers inside you, grazing over a sensitive bundle of nerves to completely drown you in the feeling of him. You gurgled out his name, trembling hands grasping at whatever parts of him you could get them on.
A low, satisfied moan falling out of his mouth, Jean picked up his pace, jealousy finally fading and ego rising. “God, your voice,” he cooed. “My name sounds so fucking good in your voice.”
He peppered open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck until he hit the strap of your swimsuit, hooked a finger underneath it, and dragged the tight fabric down your shoulder. His lips traveled further down, licking the plushness at the top of your breast but unable to reach the stiff buds of your nipples still trapped under the spandex.
“You want it off?” he asked.
“Please.”
“Finally,” he said, smirking into your collarbone.
Steamy breaths clouding around the both of you, he pulled his fingers out of you and looked directly in your eye as he slurped them clean. He hummed at the taste before pulling the two straps down over your arms.
Cold air hit your bare chest, but only a moment passed before Jean wrapped his hot lips around a pert nipple, swirling his tongue over it, while massaging the other with his hand. As your fingers raked through his hair, damp at the edges with sweat, he lightly scraped his teeth over the delicate skin.
Then he was back on your lips with sloppy kisses, devouring every one of your sweet moans while you helped him tug down his briefs.
“Need you inside,” you mumbled as his cock sprung free, tip glistening with pre-cum.
“When you beg me like that… how can I refuse?” he panted, just as hungry as you.
While he fished his condom from the wallet atop his nightstand then rolled it down his impressive length, you pulled the strip of soaked spandex out of the way to ready your entrance.
“Damn, you’re so sexy like this,” he groaned at the sight, giving his dick a pump before slipping his blunt tip between your folds, up and down the length of the slit. “How the fuck did you just land at my doorstep in this?”
“Auto-locking doors,” you replied honestly.
He scoffed before leaning down on his forearm so that his head was just above yours.
“Thank fuck for auto-locking doors,” he said through an impish grin before pushing his dick inside you.
You gasped and stuttered as he took his time to inch in and out and further into you, gradually stretching your insides and so very careful not to hurt you. As the meat of his cock filled you, your mind went numb to every other sensation.
“Holy shit,” he breathed as he pushed his balls against your skin, hips flush with yours. He squeezed your hand in his as he slid his full length out, then plunged deep back in. “You feel so fucking good.”
Restrained moans from both of you married in the narrow space between you as he picked up his pace, pumping into your slick depths with controlled movements to avoid chafing. His cock tugged at the bottom of your swimsuit, and eventually he paused to hastily yank the entire thing down your legs.
“This damn thing…” he muttered.
On his way back up, Jean sucked at your entrance.
“Oh my—“ you gasped at the sudden sensation of the soft, wet friction of his taste buds around you. But it was over just as quickly as it began. His tongue swirled a single loop around your clit and scruff scratched against your skin, sending a shudder through your thighs.
You soon tasted yourself on his tongue while he kissed you, muffling your gasps as he stuffed his dick eagerly back inside your needy hole.
“Sorry.” He gulped. “Couldn’t help myself. I needed another taste.”
Finally free from that fabric cage, you wrapped your thighs around his hips so that his torso melted into yours. His skin burned into yours as his body rolled back forth with each thrust. 
Lips forming into a suggestive smile, your eyes narrowed on his. “It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet,” you said, swiping a tongue over your swollen lips, “for you.”
“Oh, God,” he scoffed, panting a breathy chuckle into your shoulder. “Don’t tempt me.”
Thick huffing and wet noises grew steadily louder, reverberating off the walls and filling the room with the sound of your arousal, but you were far too gone to worry about those lewd sounds escaping the cracks around his door.
“Are you—“ he huffed, hot breath spilling over your cheeks. “Warm, yet?”
“Almost,” you strained, raking your nails against the skin of his back, sticky with sweat.
Using one hand to secure your hips, he brought the other back to your clit, rubbing sloppily over it as his thrusts grew heavier. Strands of hair fell from his ears and clung to his slick forehead.
Time froze every time his tip kissed your cervix. You slapped a hand over your mouth to subdue your whining as Jean’s cock rubbed mercilessly against your g-spot and as his hands kneaded your swollen button.
“How about… now?”
“Mmhm,” was all you could manage against your palm.
“Me, too,” he grunted, rhythm staggering. He lowered his forehead to yours, then peeled your hand from your face. “Need to watch you when I make you come.”
He clawed his fingertips into your waist and thrusted hard . And as he watched you with those intense amber eyes, you moaned his name a little too loudly in response. He echoed with your name, and your back arched as the fire pooling in your core sputtered and shot embers through every cell in your body.
His hips lurched, and his mouth slammed into yours before muffled grunts vibrated down your throat. Moans soon spilled out of your own mouth, your vision flashing white as as the sensory explosion transformed into swelling tides of pleasure.
Jean gasped as his lips released yours, twitching as he slid his length out of you and used a hand to finish pumping out his load. Your body went limp, aching in the best way.
“Holy shit,” he panted, collapsing on his side with arms still wrapped around you.
“That was…” You smiled at him and bit your lip, feeling a little embarrassed with how close he was. And with how very naked the two of you were.
He grinned back at you, cupping your jaw in his hands and pulling you into a warm, sluggish kiss. “Fucking amazing,” he finished your sentence.
You chuckled, something about his softened demeanor causing your heart to flutter. Certainly the feeling would pass tomorrow.
Jean hopped off the bed to dispose of the condom. He wrapped a towel around his waist before kneeling back down to your level with the same goofy, satisfied grin plastered on his face.
His thumb stroked over your shoulder. “You good?”
You nodded. “I’m great.”
“Can I get you water or something?”
“I’m good,” you laughed, sitting up with the blanket clutched over your chest.
“Just let me know.” He lingered for a moment before getting back up to retrieve your clothes. He handed you his shirt, then gestured to your swimsuit. “I’ll wash this off for you.”
He made his way out, but paused at the door frame. 
“Stay here,” he added. “I’ll be right back.”
Good girl you were, you did as you were told, but as you waited, wearing his shirt and wrapped up in his sheets, something uncomfortable brewed in the pit of your stomach. The truth was, you weren’t prepared to leave. You weren’t prepared for this night to end—this night that started off as a nightmare and ended in a weird sort of fantasy.
The tune of the alarm you had set on Jean’s phone seeped into your dreams until it became loud enough to pull you back into the waking world. Your tired arm waved around for a moment before it finally found the off button. Jean, eyes still shut, groaned at your side, burying his forehead in your shoulder. Messy locks of hair dangled down his forehead. His bare torso was covered up by the blanket.
You gnawed at the inside of your cheek as the same feeling of discomfort from the previous night washed over you. Both of you knew this could only be a one-time deal, so why did he hold you with such tenderness? The soft intimacy of his interactions with you was sickening.
The audacity of him to lull you to sleep with that low, husky voice. To embrace you, a perfect stranger, in those stupidly strong arms of his as you drifted to sleep. To show you such a perfect image of something that could never be.
Did you regret the sex? Absolutely not. But did you question giving into his insistence that you spend the night in his room since the couch was occupied? Perhaps a little.
Cautiously so as not to wake him, you shifted away from Jean and slipped out of his bed. Before leaving, you pulled his shirt off your body and left it folded atop his suitcase. Again wearing only your swimsuit, you tiptoed down the dim hallway, aided by a trickle of orangey light from the rising sun. As you turned the corner into the common area, prayers that your friends would still be asleep were graciously met by the universe.
You seated yourself in a chair by the window, jumping at the sensation of the cool wood against your thighs. The radiator was quiet now, paused between bursts of work. Every so often, a creaking noise would echo through the walls, magnified by the quiet of morning. Through the curtains, the colors of the sky dissolved from gold to white, slowly filling the room with the sun’s bright glow.
“What the—?! Who the—?! What are you people doing here?!” someone cried from the hallway.
Your friends groaned and began to blink their eyes open.
Standing at the entrance of the room was neither Jean nor Eren. A guy with a silvery buzz cut wearing colorful pajama bottoms stared at the three of you with his mouth ajar. His features were softer than those of the other two, his already large eyes peeled open even further in terror.
Your lips curved into a forced smile. “Connie?” you guessed.
“What is going on?! How do you know my name?!” he screamed, twisting his neck around to scan the rest of the room. Then, muttering to himself, “Am I in the right unit? Am I still dreaming?”
“Will you shut the fuck up, Connie? It’s like six in the morning.” came Eren’s groggy voice from somewhere behind the wall. Eren shuffled lazily into view next to his confused friend. His half-lidded eyes slid open upon seeing you. “You’re awake.”
“Yeah, the office should be opening soon,” you said.
“Thanks for letting us stay over,” Pieck yawned, outstretched arms threatening to bump into Annie’s head.
“Can someone explain to me what’s going on?!” Connie insisted.
Eren released an exasperated sigh. “Fucking hell, Connie,” he grated.
As an irritated Eren gave in and explained to his friend what had happened the previous night, footsteps sounded from the direction you had come from earlier. You swallowed thickly.
Jean, wearing a shirt now, stepped directly into a beam of sunlight as he turned the corner. His skin reflected its brightness back into the room, threatening to sear your retinas.
That familiar fiery intensity had returned to Jean’s eyes. And, once again, they were fixed on you. You allowed your gaze to linger for only a moment before you turned away, afraid of arousing suspicion.
“So, you’re telling me,” Connie replied after Eren finished filling him in, “there were girls here last night… and you didn’t wake me up?!”
“We’re leaving,” Annie, on her feet now, flatly decided, her voice cutting through the space like the crack of a gavel.
And with that, the plan to reunite you and your friends with your belongings was set in motion. As Jean had attempted the previous night, he returned to the office, this time succeeding in his quest to summon someone to let you into your unit. He, Eren, and Connie waited patiently in the cold on their porch as you were let in next door.
The goodbye was anticlimactic.
Shivering in your swimsuit, you waved at the three guys, yelling as many variations of “Thank you with every fiber of my being!” as you could come up with on the spot. You’d have been dead without them, after all.
Jean was the last of his friends remaining outside, and you the last of yours. Vision periodically blurred by the clouds of steam escaping from your mouth and nose, you took him in for one last moment. The way he towered over the wooden fence that separated you. The way the veins on his forearm rippled as he adjusted his grip on the door knob. They way his eyes were so intently locked on yours, like you were all he could see.
You curled your fingers into a nervous wave and mouthed a silent “bye” through a smile.
He did not return the gesture. Instead, his brows furrowed and his lips pressed together. And without a word, he simply slipped out of view.
As the door to your unit closed behind you, a wistful sigh left your lips. Last night had been strange, but also lovely.
From now on, Jean would be only a fond memory.
---
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slvtmeout · 10 months
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Currently on vacation not being able to stop thinking about fictional men fucking me
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writingforcuteppl · 1 year
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In For It
PAIRING: Eren Yeager x Reader x Jean Kirstein
SUMMARY: After Sasha told Jean you were in love with him they decided to make a plan so the two of you could be together. Nothing could go wrong. Right?
GENRE: Suggestive.
WARNINGS: Cursing.
WORD COUNT: 819 words
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Jean’s heart shattered. How could the girl of his dreams, the girl he has been in love with for so long, could be kissing the guy he despises the most? The guy that broke your heart? Jean thought of many scenarios of today’s evening but not in one. He imagined this. How did he end up in this situation? Oh, right, Sasha’s party and her plan to get you and Jean together.
Jean saw how you wrapped your arms around Eren’s neck while your hands played with his hair. Slowly, Eren made his way to your neck, leaving wet kisses, and Jean saw the biggest smile on your face. Your eyes were closed, feeling each of Eren’s kisses on your neck.
Jean felt his blood boil and something at the bottom of his stomach. Some kind of ache, or at least that’s what he thought.
“Hey, Jean, have you seen Y/n? I’ve been searching for -” Sasha stopped talking after realizing Jean wasn’t paying any attention to her. She slowly followed his gaze and was speechless. That definitely wasn’t the plan she had for today. She could see how Eren wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him (as if that was even possible), and you smiled while kissing him.
“Jean, I-”
“You knew?” Sasha sighed. She was finding the words to explain Jean the situation, but her phone rang.
“It’s Niccolo. I have to answer. I promise I will explain everything later, ok?” Jean nodded and returned his gaze to you and Eren. You were looking at Jean in the eyes while Eren was sucking your neck, trying to give you as many hickeys as possible. Jean froze and felt that pain in his stomach again, and this time he was sure it wasn’t jealousy. The way your eyes were looking at him, he was sure it was desire. You smiled and mouthed some words he deciphered were “Come here.” Jean didn’t know what took over his body, but he slowly made his way to you and Eren. When he was close enough, he could hear you panting. The little pleasure Eren was giving you while sucking your neck was enough to have your breath hitching.
“Took you long enough. I thought you were going to stand there and watch how I took her away so I could fuck her,” Eren said, looking at Jean, and you only hid your face on Eren’s neck. “She wants to tell you something. Come on, princess, don’t be shy” Jean could see the blush on your cheeks.
“I-” You were looking at Jean, scared of what reaction he would have, but he was looking expectantly, so you continued. “I want you. I want both of you” You looked at the floor, scared of seeing Jean’s reaction. You knew Eren was down to anything you wanted, but Jean was just different. You knew he was reserved, so this could go so wrong. Jean’s hand grabbed your chin, making you look at him.
“What was that, darling? I want you to say it while looking into my eyes.” you smiled.
“I want you, Jean” Jean smiled. He grabbed your neck and gave you a kiss. He felt your body melt into his arms. So many nights, he has dreamt of kissing you, and he was finally doing it. Even if Eren kissed you before him, he didn’t care. Jean felt your hands grab his shirt, trying to bring him closer to you. He could hear your breath giving out, so he slowly moved away from you. Jean slowly opened his eyes, remembering Eren was watching the two of you make out. He could see a big smirk on Eren’s face.
“So? Do you want to do it?” You asked in a worried tone.
He didn’t know how to feel. He was, of course, happy he finally had you in his arms. He also felt mad because he couldn’t have you to only himself, and not only that, but somehow Eren was the one who first kissed you when it was supposed to be him. Looking at Eren somehow made him remember everything Eren made you go through all those years ago, and he just wanted to punch him in the face. Still, he felt sad because even though he made you go through hell, you forgave him. It was like you forgot everything, including how he was the only one there for you when Eren left you without any type of explanation. He knew you deserved better. He knew he deserved better. So why he wanted this? Why did he like the idea of sharing you with this asshole? Was he really going to accept? A part of him refused to do it. But the other part… Maybe this was the only way he could have you, even if that meant sharing you with Eren.
“Sure thing, darling.”
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n a v i g a t i o n
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