#Jean Kirschstein smut

[slvttyplum]

jean was a loser; he got nervous when he looked at you. despite being in a relationship, he didn't think before he spoke, and he barely knew how to fuck, but somehow he was a good instructor.

he knew how to teach you things even barely knowing anything about it.

the first time you were on top, he liked it, but he knew that it wasn't right, still blushing ear to ear to have you on top of him.

it wasn't until he held the bottom of your leg and told you to keep going that he got the surge of pleasure pumping throughout him that he knew that this was the right way.

"just like that, keep… keep going," breathless, gripping onto your leg as you rode, both of you to your climax, he loved how you felt in this moment.

the way your pussy gripped around him extra tight when he hit a spot that sent a chill through your spine and a waterfall shooting out while his stomach sucked in while he tried to hold in the cum that was desperately trying to come out.

him guiding you didn't just stop at you being on top; he was the mediator, he had a vision, and he was going to make sure you executed it well.

laying you on your back and pushing your legs back, all his body weight on you and his dick buried inside, filling you out, making sure you felt every hidden vein he had.

"hold your legs, yeah, just like that. keep them like that." his words carrying over to your stomach, sending tingling throughout your body, it was usually you taking control, but whenever he told you to do something, you did it.

it was you doing all the work, but him guiding you through it; you never knew a team effort in fucking would have you finishing so hard that you were shaking, his body taking over the work you were doing and pushing his hips up into you.

that was his favorite position, having to look up at you and the cute faces you would make, struggling to keep your balance as you approached your climax.

jean was never quiet in bed; if he wasn't telling you what to do, like roll your hips more or go faster, then he was telling you how much he loved you and how cute you looked while watching you fight a smile.

you couldn't ask for a better partner or teacher.

[theragethatisdesire]

pretty girl - jean kirschtein x afab!reader - 18+!!!

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

-

-> 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.”

[slvtmeout]

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.

[sundew199]

Jean is the type of person to cum from eating you out, unable to help from grinding his hips onto the bed as he holds your legs open and smothers his face in your pussy. Sometimes he'll make it obvious with the moans he lets out against your cunt and the deep long grinds against the mattress.

He can't help that he gets so turned on from the way you sigh and moan, how your hand pulls and tugs at his hair, it's like you were asking him too at this point. What else is a man suppose to do when he's devouring the sweet cunt of his woman, pretend this isn't the hottest thing for him at the moment and carry on about his day?

No. Jean is expressive in various ways, one of them being letting you know how much he enjoys giving you pleasure, hearing you react as his tongue flattens over your clit and flicks it with just the tip of his tongue so he can watch your back arch.

He'll hum and moan in time with his grinding hips as he dips his tongue in and out of your weeping pussy, gathering the leaking arousal like it were an oasis in the desert. Jean is passionate about your pleasure and needs, putting yours above his but not neglecting himself entirely either.

You'll start to notice the way his fingertips create dips in your thighs as he holds you open, the shutter that will run up his spine as you see the lower half of his body move to it's own rhythm, moaning his name in a sort of question, getting him to look up from between your legs.

"What?" velvet words dancing up to your ears as he kisses your inner thigh, keeping his gaze on your blissed out face.

Whatever you wanted to ask will die in your throat as he teases you with a single swipe of his tongue from your entrance to your clit, laughing softly at the way your head falls back onto the pillow and your hand tightens in his hair. He'll keep the lazy movements going with his tongue until you begin to beg through soft whines and whispers for more, slipping in two fingers at once and focusing his mouth on your clit.

"Moan for me baby."

Requesting selfishly the second he hears you go quiet, needing to listen to the salacious noises that crawl up your throat and go straight to his dick. He's getting close, pulsing against the bed as he pumps his fingers out faster and sucks at your clit harder, wanting to cum at the same time but not wanting to reveal he was getting off by grinding against the bed.

Jean will stifle his moan as he cums against your pussy, easing you through your sudden orgasm and his own, getting so lost in between your legs. He'll make you cum so hard that you reluctantly tell him you don't want anymore, and Jean will gently smile and kiss you, telling you not to worry about it, already coming and perfectly content with just laying with you in his arms.

a/n: jean has been on my brain a lot more lately, so here you go hehe 😚

[bbunisre]

PAIRING ☆ jean kirschtein x fem!oc! ( you can just imagine it as yourself!!! i tried to describe physical features for this purpose x )

WARNINGS ☆ SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT, uhh idrk guys i lwk only wrote almost half of this LAWLSIES but ig sasha and niccolo aren't really a thing?!?! a little niccolo x oc, voyeurism (???), vulgar and dirty jokes lol, that's all i can think of rn, will update this OH YEA JEAN'S MASSIVE HORSECOCK :p

SUMMARY ☆ In which Mirabelle enters Paradis Island years before the Liberio Attack and finds herself instantly interested in Jean Kirschtein, an innocent man who is soon tied mercilessly to her womanly wiles. Jean attempts to escape her but can only run so far before he starts running back to her.

WORD COUNT ☆ 20k+ lock tf in

EPISODE 1

lemme know if you wanna be on the taglist <3

TAGLIST ☆ @lakeiskewl @greenie-c

CREDITS artwork: yuka_levi dividers: @dollywons @aestradairio

[daisynik7]

Could you possibly do: Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado for Jean Kirstein - Smut (stg he needs more love on this app)

Promiscuous

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.

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.”

[l0v3tast3]

✎ hmm trying somethin new ,,,,

tags: smut mdni!!, rough sex, dirty talk, pet names, afab!reader, fav x reader type thing

word count: 480ish

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.

ghost , price // eren , levi , jean // toji , satoru , nanami , suguru

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

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 🤍

[jeankirsteinsgirl]

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

[sixpennydame]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

Thank you, @peachdues and @ackerbootytobbi for sending this! I did this a few months ago with my 2 series fics and one-shots, so I think this time I'll give my 5 favorite drabbles I've written! Ok, let's go..

Never Have I Ever

Levi plays the popular drinking game and gets more than he expected.

Attack on Snack

You're pregnant and feeling snacky. Levi tries to accommodate.

Posing in Bondage

In which you're artist!Levi's muse.

Please (Me)

You're in an arranged marriage with Levi and learning to tell him what you want.

Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)

With Jean. Exactly how it sounds, hehe.

[theragethatisdesire]

show off - eren jaeger x afab!reader x jean kirschstein, 18+!!

something wild and wicked came over me while considering the dynamics of the erejean threesome, and i realized we all deserve to see the incident that started it all. this is the official part 2/prequel to three's a... and it is very very fun and tasty. i feel like i haven't been posting as much, so i am super excited to get this up. i hope you guys enjoy as much as i did writing it :) it's also from eren's pov which you guys know i adore

pairing: jean kirschstein x reader, eren jaeger x reader, a lil bit of eren x jean tension but nothing physical

wc: 6.2k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: swearing, smut, threesome, implied internalized homophobia??? (literally just like, a pinch. eren has a "no homo" moment at the end lol), oral sex (male receiving), pet names (slut, brat, bitch, baby, princess), eren's a bit of a hard dom in this one, degradation, humiliation, penetrative vaginal sex, thick tension between eren and jean, eren's a menace

enjoy :)

-

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.

[slvtmeout]

Currently on vacation not being able to stop thinking about fictional men fucking me

[sundew199]

Can't Help myself

a/n: first time writing Jean on his own :)

tags: jean x f!reader, dacryphilia, kinda soft gentle sex, teasing, overstimulation

kinktober day three: dacryphilia

He was at a point of no return, not with the way your hips raised into the air, seeking out the friction of the head of his cock that hadn't even entered you yet, so whiny. Jean gripped the base, curling his fingers into where he held onto the headboard and stared down at your glistening cunt. So ready and wet for him after spending almost fifteen minutes at least down between your legs, drawn into your sweet addicting taste, not wanting to even come up for air.

It sounded like you were sobbing when he sucked on your clit there towards the end, trying to focus on your face to see if these new sounds were a good thing, never hearing such desperation come from you until now. And now he regrets looking up from between your legs, seeing the shiny overstimulated tears rolling down your cheeks and absolutely loosing his mind. Jean was making you feel so good to the point of...crying? What an oxymoron that was, and yet it stiffened his cock even more and made the goal of making you cum one last time on his tongue all the more important.

Unfortunately they were dried on your cheeks now, the orgasm that had rattled your entire body put a cease to the tears, but also giving Jean a new goal. I mean why not? His tongue had been able to bring you to tears, so why can't his cock as well?

"You look so pretty," He cooed hovering over you, cradling the side of your face in his palm, stroking his thumb over the dried tear stains on your cheeks, attempting to stay composed at the aftermath of the pleasure he brought you too.

"I can always count on you to remind me." Humming back sweetly, pulling him down just enough to slot your lips in his, Jean's eyes fluttering to the soft press. You were so sweet, always so needy and ready for him, so why did he feel a pang of guilt swirling in his gut at the idea of wanting to make you cry from fucking you? Maybe it was because he'd always associated crying with negativity and felt as if his brain wouldn't properly differentiate this scenario. But the craving and lust of witnessing your pleasure reach new height to the point of crying was stronger than the guilt.

" 'Need you to be good for me sweetheart, alright?" Moving his hips just a little to barely push the head of his cock inside of you, sucking in a deep sharp breath at how tight you were, and he wasn't even inside all the way yet.

"M'kay."

"Want you to listen and do what I say, got it?" Now passing the tight ring of muscle to tease you with just the tip, your breath hitching underneath him at the satisfying intrusion. Jean sighed, taking his time entering you, savoring the clench of your walls when he first thrusted in. God, how were you so addicting? How can everything about you make him so needy? What kind of a spell did you have on yourself to make him yearn for you so intensely?

"okay, anything for you." Came your soft whispered response, seeing your eyes tightly squeezed shut and your brows pinched together so blissfully and he hadn't even really started moving yet.

His hand gripped the wood of the headboard, pulling his hips back and slamming them back forward, your body jolting underneath him with the force of his single thrust, a whimper escaping your lips and Jean's body running hot. He repeated the same drag and snap of his hips a couple more times, loving the way you arched and tensed beneath him, digging your nails into his bicep and trying so hard not to let the noises leave your lips, but failing miserably.

"I want you to cum when I tell you too,"

"But Jean-"

A sudden sweet kiss fell on your lips, interrupting your protests. Jean smiled a little smugly when he released, still inches away from your lips when he cradled the side of your face.

"Said you'd do anything for me right?" Using your delirious words from earlier against you, letting him be selfish in the desire to make your cry from fucking you. And it truly wouldn't be hurting either of you, it's not like he wouldn't let you cum at all. A small innocent nod was the only response he got, and that was more than enough for Jean, kissing you softly one last time.

Moving his hand away from holding onto the headboard to grip your waist, Jean sucked in a large breath and held it, picking up a pace that was relatively fast but nothing you couldn't handle. Your face pinched in pleasure, mouth falling open in quiet almost silent moans as his dick glides in and out, sending shivers up his spine at how tight and inviting you were. You were so innocently greedy with they you continuously sucked him back in, never getting enough and always making it impossible for Jean to go just one round with you.

The steady pace went on until you were squirming for more, like he expected you, breathing a bit heavier and writhing on the sheets. This was the cue for Jean to get you to that point of desperation and overstimulation he had you in earlier, hoping those sparkling tears would roll down your cheeks again for his own satisfaction.

Abruptly stopping, sheathed all the way inside, he chuckled low in his chest, coming back to hover over your face and pepper it with soft kisses.

"Jean please,"

"Let me love on you baby." Through another soft laugh knowing that was anything but what you wanted, robbing you of the lengthy dick reaching that itch deep inside you, making you frustrated.

Good. He thought to himself, dragging his lips down the side of your neck and palming your breast in his hand, thumbing over your hard nipple. He wanted you frustrated and begging for him to move, begging for him to let you cum. Jean was dying to see those pretty eyes of yours overfill with tears and run down your cheeks.

Leaving one last sloppy kiss to your lips, he pulled himself back up, one hand by the side of your head and the other faintly brushing over your clit, never letting his touch linger for long. His hips snapped back and forward, shoving himself inside so hard, your back bent at an unachievable angle he'd never seen before. Fuck, just seeing you in this state was forcing himself to focus on not cumming too quickly and ruining his end goal.

Giving you some grace and resuming a much faster pace than before, Jean smiled when your moans turned vocal, your nails dragged down his arms leaving red in his skin. They quickly turned to whines and choked sobs of his name as he pound his hips into yours, smacking his thighs into yours to make a clap, clap, clap.

Shit, you were so good to him, how'd ever land someone as willing an compliant as the one in his bed, arching and whining his name so prettily? No time to question any of that now, not when your voice strained and choked on itself, hinting at what Jean was hoping for.

Stopping completely once again, your eyes shot open with confusion and irritation, swirling something hot and fiery in his gut. He all but winked, using one of his hands to press one of your legs flat to the bed, gathering a glob of spit to drop down onto your clit, smearing it and rubbing it in with his thumb.

"So needy, are you getting close?" Tone smug and domineering, reminding you subtly of what he asked of you.

"Yes, can I?"

It was amazing how your voice could ask so sweetly and lustfully, a perfect blend that almost made him give in at just the sound.

"Not yet."

Another whine of his name, only to be cut off by Jean snapping his hips forward at an ungodly fast pace. He pressed his forehead to yours, letting his hot breaths fan down on your face, putting all of his weight on the hands on either side of his head. Your neck strained as you threw it back into the pillow, letting out a sob and giving Jean the thing he'd been striving for this entire time. A single tear rolled down your cheek, cinematically slow and making him release a growl sort of sound from his throat.

Just a little more and he'd let you cum.

"Jean,"

God, the way you said his name made his dick throb inside of you. Fuck he couldn't falter, not when he was this fucking close. All he needed was to send you past the point of return.

Slowing his hips again, pressing the pad of his thumb to your swollen clit, did a real sob bubble in your throat. He traced his hand from your hip to your face, holding on side and swiping over the few tears breaking past your waterline. He shouldn't find you this pretty in this state, right?

"So pretty baby." Rotating his thumb in a circle on your clit and leaning forward to kiss the fresh tear rolling down one side of your cheek.

Your arms tried to wrap around his neck so you could bury your face there, but he prevented you, sitting back on his hunches and thrusting softly.

"I wanna see you," Making sure you wouldn't try to hide yourself before leaning back over, kissing your lips gently. "Wanna see you fall apart of my dick before you cum on it."

"okay."

Responding shakily, biting down on your bottom lip when he resumed his pace, moving away just so he wasn't as close. Jean smiled through a huff of a laugh, stealing a glimpse of his dick disappearing and reappearing from your cunt, how wet you were and how easy it was to slide in and out.

In a split second, Jean was back to the brutal fast pace, hoping to bring more of those glistening tears and what a smart move that was, because you were a waterfall. He'd been "unintentionally" edging you and still not letting you cum even though he got what he wanted, you sobbing below him as he ruined you on his cock. Oh but the sight was so addicting and appealing, why would he want to end it so soon.

"Look at you, crying cause it feels so good huh?" Taunting as he grabbed your jaw gently and tilting your head to look at him in the eyes. Yours were red and wet, eyelashes clumping together from the tears and making him thank himself for following through. You'd never looked prettier than right now, crying and making a mess of yourself.

"Please let me cum."

"Can you hold out a little longer?"

Your bottom lip quivered with frustration, throwing your head back and crying a bit more. And Jean had never felt more turned on than that very second, despite it being a little mean, he was being selfish.

"Jean please - I can't,"

He didn't respond at first, focusing on the fast pace thrusts and the echo of his skin smacking into yours. You then resorted to pleading, grabbing at his biceps and spouting a bit of nonsense, so overstimulated and shaking. He was losing focus, nearly cumming himself, smashing his mouth back onto yours, silencing it all.

You whined and whimpered into his lips, your tears smearing onto his cheeks, making him keep his mouth on yours for longer than he intended. He nipped and pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth, holding you down at the hip and eventually breathing directly into your mouth, nearing the end of how much longer he could hold out.

"Cum for me, cum on my dick baby."

He felt you clench and flutter around his cock before he could even finish his sentence, groaning into your mouth and soaking in the shaking whines and sobs as you finally orgasmed. He knew he wouldn't be lasting much longer, running his tongue across the tear stains on your cheeks and following it up with decadent kisses where his tongue just swiped. Your arms flung around his neck, pressing yourself to his body, meeting his final thrusts with your hips as he came hard.

Panting into your mouth still, Jean let out a sort of pitiful groan as his dick pulsed inside you, painting your tight gummy walls with his cum. He waited to catch his breath before pulling out, pushing some of it back in out of habit and flitting his eyes up at the whine you gave.

Gently his hands roamed across your thighs for comfort, prior to grabbing a rag from the bathroom to the clean up the mess he made between your legs. Your droopy eyes watched him, reaching a hand out to run through the ashy hair on his head, allowing him to toss the used rag aside, slip his arms underneath your body and wrap you into an embrace, holding you to his chest as the exhaustion took over and you fell asleep in his arms.

[bbunisre]

EPISODE 1

PAIRING ☆ jean kirschtein x fem!oc! ( you can just imagine it as yourself!!! i tried to describe physical features for this purpose x )

WARNINGS ☆ no smut in this one, dirty, slowburn, lots of teasing, a little niccolo x oc, voyeurism (???), vulgar and dirty jokes lol, baddie main character

SUMMARY ☆ In which Mirabelle enters Paradis Island years before the Liberio Attack and finds herself instantly interested in Jean Kirschtein, an innocent man who is soon tied mercilessly to her womanly wiles. Jean attempts to escape her but can only run so far before he starts running back to her.

WORD COUNT ☆ 12k

TAGLIST ☆ @lakeiskewl @greenie-c @alt--er--love @kcch-ns @nobodybutnnoorr @biggityboppingboob @sssmokesignalsss lmk if u want to be added <3

MASTERLIST

MIRABELLE WINDRIDER POV

Living in the storage section of a Marleyan warship for several days comes with having my limbs squished between a box of deactivated bombs and ration packs. It’s one of the several cons of being stuck here, besides the seasickness, having to freeze up when soldiers come in to look for things and multiple hours of being bored, plotting my arrival.

Voices atop tell me there’s a disturbance up ahead the boat. Well, they aren’t telling me. The Marleyan soldiers don’t actually know I’m here at all. It should be kept that way until it’s time is what Yelena strictly instructed.

It’s been forever-and-a-half since we left Marley! We certainly must've arrived on the coast of Paradis by now. I’ve been sharpening the blade all this while like a good girl. Can something happen already?

I stretch my body after eight hours of sitting in a cramped position. The commotion above doesn’t surprise me as I feel the familiar pull in my limbs and torso. An assassin’s flexibility is unmatched, a small breeze in the air, seductive and chilling as we kill our victims.

An explosion and a loud horn cause yells on the warship but a smile on my face.

Thank you, Yelena. 

I flip the dagger into my belt as I make my way up the stairs I snuck down merely a few days ago.

I have to be quick but soft. 

They can’t know I’m here. 

Not yet, at least.

The cool air makes contact with my skin, clearing my lungs and any mustiness that has accumulated instantly. But there wasn’t any time to relish in this moment. I’m here to get the job done—the Beast is counting on me.

The soldiers are stunned at what’s in front of them. I try to get a look at the situation from where I am, right behind, in the corner of the door where no moonlight can reveal me. 

Outside is dark, but lighter than inside the storage bunker where I couldn’t figure out who was coming unless I really tried to listen through the water. The first thing I notice about Paradis Island is that the stars here are explicit, little trinkets hung on the blanket they sit on. That, and the many lights by the tents that illuminate where they must be living. Yelena did tell me when she snuck into Marley in between to pick up a couple of the supplies that the stars here shine way brighter.

It’s beautiful.

I shake my head. I can look at the stars later. I have to assess the situation we’re in first.

Beyond the vessel is rocky land and what looks like many rifles being pointed towards the warfare ship. I attempt to look for Yelena through the hunter green capes but the lanky woman is nowhere to be seen. 

I roll my eyes. 

Looks like I’ll have to get to work.

Cracking my neck, I slide behind the soldier closest to me. 

I slink my arms around him, one coming up to cover his mouth and one around his torso and arms. I whisper in his ear, “Make this easy for me.”

He whimpers against the palm of my hand, making me smile. 

That’s cute. He’s scared of me.

The power thrills me, sending goosebumps through my skin. It’s been a while since I’ve been back in action.

I snake up his chest, up his neck. before he can move or do anything, I twist his neck. He falls onto my lifted foot like I wanted, noiseless and efficient.

The rest of the soldiers are paying attention to the rifles pointed at them and a Paradis person screaming through a megaphone at how excited they are to see Marleyans on their grounds and how they want to invite all of us onto their island.

Is that supposed to be welcoming?

I snatch the pistol off of the soldier I just injured, popping a few bullets into the barrel. The soldier opens his mouth, heaving in to scream but I smash my foot onto his face, glaring right down at him. 

That was a close one. 

They’re all blindly focused on the Paradis soldiers so I make the decision to move.

Now or never, baby.

I cock back the pistol, gaining the attention of the Marleyans.

Their eyes widen.

I clear my throat, “Hi!”

“Who are you?!” the captain of the ship hollers at me.

I kick back the face of the soldier underneath me and walk towards the Captain. The soldiers pull out their guns rapidly, only to cause me to laugh.

“Don’t shoot, men.” he orders them in his husky tone. 

“Doesn’t matter if they only got dummy bullets in them.”

The Captain hesitates, puzzled by my response, “Excuse me—” 

“You’re too slow, Captain.”

I launch the dagger into his neck. Blood splatters out of his throat and mouth as he lands with a thud. He’ll be dead soon. I stabbed the artery after all! 

Slipping my dagger right back out, five men charge towards me, hostility swimming through them.

I kick the first one on the side of the face, sending him towards the side. The next two with simple dagger slices in their necks like their damned Captain. The next one is a dodge—I let that one fall over the boat and into the water. 

The last soldier grabs me by the shoulders while I’m cackling at the soldier who fell overboard. He shoves me against the boat’s railing. My head hits the metal, a weird vibration making the world spin in a way seasickness could never.

Said soldier grabs his pistol and shoves it into my mouth.

I cry aloud. He yanks my hair back so I can properly taste the coarseness of the instrument almost hitting the back of my throat.

I’m going to pass out from suffocation or a dummy bullet. 

It’s going to be the end of me.

“I’m going to choke you out, whore.” he says. 

It’s then that a lightbulb goes off in my head. 

He gets off on the fact that he’s in power right now, that at any moment now he can push me off the boat, shoot a bullet down my throat and touch me however he pleases. The sinisterness in his eyes illustrates his devotion to his job, the real grotesque that comes with it.

I’m dealing with someone much like me—a sadistic fuck. 

With all my strength, I discreetly pull out my own pistol that I stole earlier, tears slipping out of my eyes.

Just one push, just one push— 

I heave my knee into his manhood and shoot him in his abdomen.

He flies back, along with his pistol. 

Coughing, I grab my dagger and kick his chest to send the man flying down onto the wooden board. He yells in pain, a cry that is my favourite sound a human’s ever made. It’s washed out and terrible, sending a chill down my spine.

I swear I hear cheers from the island but it could just be my near passing out from the pistol down my throat. 

I straddle the crying soldier and raise the dagger above my head.

“Please,” he blurts out, “Please spare me, ma’am.”

I throw my head back, laughing, “Oh God…no!”

The dagger sinks into his face. Right in between his eyes, at the beginning of the slope of his nose. 

One stab renders him deceased.

However, one stab doesn’t satisfy the assassin in me. 

Two, three, four, five, six—blood splatters onto my face and clothes, a forced strength coming out of my arms and the target’s face absolutely unrecognisable.

Finally, when I’m about to take the seventh, someone pulls me away from the body forcefully. I launch the dagger backwards but it’s caught for the first time by a hand right above their head.

Instead of trying to pull it out, I yelp in surprise.

“Yelena!” I huff out.

“About to kill me too?” she jokes, nothing in her eyes. As usual.

“Yelena~!” I repeat and wrap my arms around her torso.

“Gross.” she sighs at all the blood of two Marleyans rubbing onto her ironed, white shirt.

Yelena kindly puts a towel around my shoulders.

That’s right. I didn’t even think to check on myself. 

I’m breathing so hard, there’s blood all over my hands and clothes and I’m super excited that I completed my mission to perfection again.

“Oops.” I chuckle, pulling out, “I can’t believe you guys left me!”

“Not my fault someone slept through their alarm on the day we left.”

I punch her playfully, glad I finally see someone I’m familiar with after so long.

“Let’s go.” she says.

“Oh, the sailor! I haven’t killed him yet!” I tell her, pointing at the back of the ship,

Yelena shakes her head, pulling my bloody arm towards the dock, “That’s enough killing for you today. We’ll handle it from here. Let’s go get cleaned up first.”

As I walk down the wooden dock, impressed, blank faces stare back at me. My breathing slows down to a steadier pace as I stare right back, unsure on how to react to this weird attention. What I just did is equivalent to a murderous performance.

I don’t think they’ve seen a massacre happen so quickly in front of them. I don’t blame them. I set a record in Marley. Especially working for the Tybur clan, I was trained to be the assassin I am today. However, I’m not particularly used to doing it in front of people. 

That’s the thing about assassins, we’re supposed to take one’s life in private.

“Get to work!” one of the Paradis soldiers yell, “Stop staring, brats!”

A few soldiers walk down the dock, presumably to get the sailor’s head. One of them stands out—extremely tall, brown hair and a sparkle of innocence as he watches me intently. There’s curiosity within that innocence I discern easily, a little mouse coming out of its hole, respectfully.

A smile forms on my lips.

He blinks at me, blank, yet he knows I’m looking exactly at him.

He walks right past me, avoiding eye contact once he’s close.

JEAN KIRSTEIN POV

The image of gooey blood splattered on her face paired with a bewitching smile from the newcomer has Jean Kirstein confused on one side and intrigued on another. Confused because when the Marleyans said that one of their people was delayed back at Marley, he was expecting another male soldier who’s higher ranked, which is why they wanted him here to help out. Intrigued, because now that he knows it’s a woman, he wonders what kind of situation she was put in to create a flawless combat style.

As the moonlight flashes on her face, reflecting the glossy blood and the glimmer of her teeth. She looks incredibly insane and proud of herself for what she’s done.

Taking down six men in five minutes? Jean has never seen that happen before. The most impressive stunt he’s seen pulled off was Captain Levi taking down five Titans in under a minute—a whole other thing if he was to compare the two. It’s not comparable. By far, Captain Levi is the best he’s seen before.

But, still. 

The woman lingers in Jean’s mind.

As he walked back to the tent him and Conny were sleeping in, he couldn’t help but wonder about her. The way she made eye contact with him as if she could read his thoughts then and there was sufficient to know that she’s seductively dangerous. Almost as if her sole purpose was to lure Jean in—

“Sorry,” he mumbles incoherently as he bumps into someone. 

“Are you okay?” Mikasa asks him.

Jean blinks up at her, escaping his trance. He’s never been the distracted type before.

It’s rare for Mikasa to ask her comrades, it’s often she presses that question towards Eren Yeager. Deep down, Jean wishes Mikasa would be concerned with him the way she was with Eren. He really likes her and wanted to sought out for her ever since he came to know her. Eren took all her time, energy and love, now, Jean remains in the immovable comrade-zone.

He forgets the mesmerising aura Mikasa has that made him fall for her in the first place, “Fine.” 

She walks off without another word. All she needed was that little ‘fine’ to let her keep going about her day. 

After all, she had to go tend to Eren like she was some servant.

Jean sighs as he enters the tent, lamenting about Mikasa and knowing there’s nothing he can do about her or her so-called duty to Eren. He can’t help his attachment. 

He gets ready for bed and the moment him and Conny turn off the lanterns to sleep and darkness fills his sight, the Marleyan soldier comes to mind again. It’s like she cast a spell on him the moment they locked eyes on the dock. 

Her smile, he thinks.

It was beautiful amongst the slaughter on her face.

How can one make the wretched so beautiful?

☆

Conny and Jean are in charge of putting away the deliveries the camp receives from the Walls. The cart is full of food, weaponry and other things that would make living here easier. 

They’d discussed that the Marleyans should be doing the labour here but Hange countered, arguing that it wouldn’t be right for the cause they were fighting for. Jean agreed—they had a point. They were trying to do good for the world. What would be the point of making Marleyans do all the work when they were fighting for equality?

As time goes on, Conny and Jean become exhausted and settle into the carts themselves.

“I need a drink.” Conny groans, leaning his head back on the cart.

Jean hums in response. The sun was burning their backs as they slaved the day away, barely breaking in between to keep this damn camp going. 

“Conny! Jean!”

They lift their heads to see who’s calling their name.

It’s none other than Onyankopon, walking towards them with a great, big smile on him, a wave and a guest in tow. Jean wishes he was as positive as Onyankopon looked right now. He’d be getting through these deliveries in no time.

He looks over at the guest Onyankopon brought along. 

Right then and there, chills run down his spine. 

There’s no way.

He straightens up effective immediately. 

“Wanted to introduce you to someone new!” Onyankopon says as he arrives at their cart, “She arrived last night.”

Jean’s eyes are plastered at the Marleyan soldier, eyes wide, consuming her presence. She’s piercing with caramel tones and charcoal hair, illustrating her humanity. Nonetheless, her eyes tell him something else. There’s a certain depth in them, a void that can suck you in if you look too long.

She steps up.

“Mirabelle.” she states, ample confidence, “Mirabelle Windrider.”

Sultry voice that coats strawberries with chocolate. The woman stares straight into him, taking words right out of his mouth and stomping them on the ground before her. The corners of her lips quirk upwards into a minute smile as if she knows exactly what she just did to him. 

“Conny Springer.” Conny responds, “Weren’t you the chick that killed all those soldiers last night?!”

She laughs, “May have been.”

“You were so cool!” Conny continues and Jean would’ve looked at him but he’s currently too occupied with the newcomer, “The way you knocked them all down. Jean and I were talking about you last night! Everyone was.”

“Were you?” Mirabelle’s eyes easily wander to Jean. “Who’s this?”

He has nothing to say. He can’t say anything.

“Cat got your tongue, Jeanie-boy?” Conny calls. “You know staring at a lady is rude!”

Jean will deal with Conny later. Right now, her slightest provocation forces Jean to give her his name. “Jean Kirstein, ma’am.”

“Jean…” she utters and his eyes widen with fear? Anxiety?...desire?

Onyakopon comes into frame and she leans against his arm which she somehow can despite the man’s height. “Ma’am? She look that old to you, boy?”

“N-No! Of course not, just didn’t wanna disrespect her.” Jean blurts out as Mirabelle laughs. 

There she goes again with that smile like she likes watching him twitch under her glance.

Onyakopon sighs, looking down at Mirabelle, “At it again?”

“What’s wrong with a little fun, Onya~”

Before he could think about what she meant by that, Onyankopon says to them, “We’ve got to attend some meetings. Hope you gentlemen do well.”

“Bye!” Mirabelle waves at them.

“Bye!” Conny replies.

“...bye.”

When they leave, a sigh leaves Jean. A couple seconds of silence passes them until Conny finally speaks up, “Hot stuff, huh?”

“What?”

“Ma’am.” he mocks.

Jean furrow my brows, “Shut up, Conny.”

MIRABELLE WINDRIDER POV

Paradis Island is a blast. 

Besides sleeping inside a tent, I’ve had fun the last couple of days, getting to know the nation’s people and growing the bonds I already have. What Marleyans say about Paradis Island is nowhere near true but honestly, you’d have to have a brain to know that. They’re anything but devils, they’re humans trapped in walls and know nothing of the outside world. 

Hange Zoe, Commander of the Scouts, has created a timetable for me this week so it’d make it easier for me to settle in. 

How kind of them. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten close to this treatment back in Marley, even as a respected assassin.

The next thing on my schedule is a team building session with none other than Hange Zoe leading it. I’ve done a couple the past few days and it’s my favourite so far—something lighthearted amongst all the tedious soldier work. 

As someone who’s not a soldier, the training style is different from what I’m used to. I mean, it is still combat training but it’s coarse, explosive training rather than the elusive, cunning style I’m used to.

When I pull up to the grassy patch a hundred feet from the camp, Hange is waiting with a group of Marleyans and Eldians, animatedly chatting with the group.

That’s one thing I love about Hange so far. They see no difference in our races unlike other members in the camp.

“There she is!” they exclaim as I join the circle, “Our final member.”

“Hello.” I greet everyone, looking around the circle.

I stop almost immediately. Two people over is none other than the starer.

Jean Kirstein’s eyes widens at seeing me join the circle.

There he goes again. 

“Now that everyone’s present, today we’ll be playing a fun, little game I’ve conjured up when working with Cadets! Heard you Marleyan soldiers had no fun when in military, so this will be a little refresher.” Hange explains, “Now, sit down, sit down.”

We all do as they say, plopping onto the grassy land.

“This game,” they start, “Is called, ‘two truths, one lie’. It’s just as stated. We will go around the circle, telling two truths and one lie. The point of this game is to decipher the lie through the three statements told. It’s going to help us understand tidbit information about each other and hopefully, bring us closer as a team. Sounds easy enough?”

The group agrees. We take some time to think about our statements before Hange goes first, telling us that they are the example round, “Okay, so I’m the Fourteenth Commander of the Survey Corps, Captain Levi Ackerman is my best friend and I hate Titans.”

“I am not your best friend.” Levi responds indifferently, “That’s the lie.”

Hange chuckles, “Yes, you are, silly.”

Aw.

Levi rolls his eyes, “You’re so obsessed.”

They hit his shoulder, “You’re mean and short, so you’re just as bad.”

He glares right back at them.

“You’re the Fourteenth Commander, that’s the lie!” a Marleyan speaks up.

“No,” I interrupt before they can give away the answer, “It’s that they hate Titans.”

All eyes are on me.

Over the last couple of days, I’ve stayed quiet during team building sessions, only participating when absolutely necessary. No matter how lively I am around the Marleyans, being thrown into a completely new circumstance can make anyone nervous. So, staying quiet and observing is the best way to be until I’m comfortable enough.

Now I’m comfortable enough.

“Yes!” Hange answers, “How did you know, Mirabelle? I don’t remember telling you.”

I purse my lips and look down on my lap, a little embarrassed, “Not directly, but I overheard you telling other Marleyans that you had two Titans called Sawney and Bean. You said you adored them like they were your children. Plus, you don’t seem the type to hate Titans.”

Hange’s eyes light up.

“Sawney and Bean!” they gasp, “Bless them. Can we have a moment of silence for Sawney and Bean—”

“Those asswipe Titans? No.” Levi interrupts, raising an eyebrow, “Get on with the stupid game. I don’t know why you insist on these timewasters.”

“Ugh,” they groan, “This is not a waste of time! Having team building sessions helps people get along and build bonds. Like you care about any of that stuff, grumps!”

“Exactly. I don’t.” 

“Okay, so shut your mouth. Don’t listen to this party pooper, guys.” Hange sighs, causing us to laugh, “It’s your turn, Mirabelle. Give us your statements.”

I nod, having my statements ready to go, “I’m left-handed, I’m an assassin back in Marley and—”

“You’re not left-handed.”

It seems as if Jean is confused as to why he spoke so quickly before I finished my statements. I’m confused, too. How did he know that was the lie?

“I’m not?” I ask, trying to throw him off.

He shakes his head, right on the money, “You’re right-handed. I remember the way you held the gun at the Captain on the boat that night. You were in a right-handed stance.”

It takes me a second to digest that. 

It was dark that night, how could he have seen my stance?

“Did I get it?” he asks.

I smile at him, genuinely, “Yeah…you did.”

He must’ve really focussed on me on that boat. My heart races a little. To have someone enraptured by me is a feeling I haven’t had in a while.

“Well done, Jean!” Hange compliments, clapping, “Great attention to detail! See, guys. This is the point of the game. It’s to understand each other better, so we can have trusting bonds when in combat.”

Levi clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“You better get your lies ready, Levi,” Hange warns, “You’re after Jean.”

For some reason, Levi looks scared. He is slipped into a trance, probably trying to think of his three statements to tell everyone.

“Go on, Jean,” Hange prompts

I watch Jean think about his statements, scanning the grass below him until he lifts his head, “Alright.”

He looks right at me.

He blocks the eight others around us, part of the game and shoots his statements at me.

It’s a challenge.

“I was forced to become a part of the Survey Corps, my mom makes the best omelettes and my friends call me ‘Horseface’.”

“The first one.” I tell him before anyone can say anything. I don’t think anyone was going to anyways. It was aimed at me. He wants me to get it right, there’s a desperation screaming at me to do so.

He blinks at me, “What? How?”

“I don’t think you’re the type of guy to be forced into the Survey Corps. You probably joined it because it matched your ideals and were willing to go far enough to obtain a goal. In that sense, I think most Scouts are like that anyways…did I get it?”

Jean nods, ever so slowly.

“Yay!” I reply.

An invisible line threads between the two of us, connecting us in the moment. Jean seems lost in thought as if it was the first time he was acknowledged for his decisions.

I’m glad I was able to give him that.

The Scouts in this island deserve that more than anything. The recognition and the pride that comes with it. It’s not an easy job, after all.

We’re looking at each other until Levi speaks up at last, “Get a room, the two of you.”

☆

“Mirabelle, Mirabelle! Wait up!”

I turn around, a running bald boy coming my way.

“Hi. Conny, was it?”

He slams his hands on his knees, catching his breath, “Y-Yes.”

“How can I help you?”

“Are you busy?’ Conny asks.

“Huh?”

“Are you busy at the moment?” he repeats.

What is this about?

“Not particularly, no. Sorry, what’s this about?”

Conny straightens up and grins at me. I try to return it with a boxy grin of my own but all this seems a little suspicious to me.

“Would you like to eat with us?”

“Sorry?”

“Would you like to have lunch with me and a few other Scouts?” Conny invites.

Oh.

“Oh my God. Yes!. I would love to.” I nod enthusiastically,

“Right this way, ma’am.”

“Stop that.” I chuckle.

“I’ve never seen Kirstein act like that in front of a woman,” he says, as I follow him.

So we’re having this conversation?

“Uh-huh.” I reply, trying to stay uninterested. 

Giving Conny the wrong impression is the last thing I want to do. Yes, it may be true that Jean caused my heart flutter earlier but that was for a mere moment. I’m not interested in anything except keeping things cool and casual. Imagine if he thinks I’m interested romantically.

That would send the wrong message.

“He’s really a good guy,” Conny continues, “Don’t tell him I said that but he’d take good care of his missus, if he had one.”

“I see.”

“What do you think of him, Mirabelle?”

Did Jean set him up to this?

No, it can’t be. Jean seems like he barely knows that he’s interested in me. Conny, on other hand, as someone who’s on the outside of this situation probably read in between the lines and got a grip on the situation.

“He’s nice.” I reply.

“Nice~” Conny sings, “Anyways, we’re here!”

He’s brought me to behind a tent where a bunch of Scouts are sitting on upside down crates and eating from paper plates.

“Hi!” all of them greet me.

There’s four of them, including Jean, who is just as shocked to see me there as I am him. Oh, what did I expect coming with Conny?

I look at Conny, raising an eyebrow. He just shrugs, nonchalantly. Is he playing wingman right now? There’s nothing to play wingman for!

This is ridiculous.

“Hello.” I wave at them.

“The food’s over there, by the way.” a girl with a high ponytail and a stuffed face says, “You can help yourself!”

“Alright, thanks.”

I grab my lunch at the stand and come back. Jean quickly stands from his crate and gestures for me to sit down.

“Oh, you didn’t have to, I—”

“I already finished eating.” he interrupts, clearing his throat.

It’d be rude to decline so I take the crate, muttering a small word of gratitude. 

The crates are assembled in a circle so I can see the new people I’m sitting with. Conny and Jean stand nearby, joining the conversation.

“I’m Mirabelle, by the way—”

“You’re the girl that knocked down those Marleyans a couple days ago, right?” the girl with the ponytails says, “Sasha, nice to meet you.”

“You’re right! It is her.” a blonde boy exclaims.

“I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Sasha answers, “This is Armin and Mikasa. You’ve met Conny and Jean?”

I look up at Jean and smile a little, “I have…it’s nice to meet you all.”

And the questions come instantly.

“How did you kill them all?”

“Are you a soldier? You’re not wearing a uniform.”

“How do you get your hair like that?”

“How come you came in later compared to other Marleyans?”

“Hey.” Jean interrupts the eager Scouts, “Let her eat before you talk her ears off.”

“That’s okay, Jean.” I laugh, “Let’s see,” deep breath “I’ve been trained to kill multiple people simultaneously. I’m not a soldier, I’m an assassin. My hair? Well, it’s this product I got from Marley. Totally cannot live without. I can share it with you if you like. I came late because I accidentally slept in when Onyankopon was leaving so I ended up having to find my own way here.”

They stare at me in awe.

“Any more questions?” I ask.

Shaking their heads, they go back to their food. 

☆

“That’s the thing, Onyankopon. I don’t want to be trained like a soldier!” I whine behind him, “My combat style is already flawless and the way the soldiers train is so rough and not adequate for a nimble girl like me.”

“That’s a conversation for you to have with Hange, not me.” he replies.

It seems that Onyankopon doesn’t grasp my joke like he usually does. His lightheartedness and otherwise bubbly attitude has gone out of trace and is replaced with someone serious and, well, not so Onyankopon.

I slide off the horse we arrived on together as it stops before the Walls.

“Mhm, right and you know I’ll convince them anyway.” I say, attempting to bring my best friend out. 

It’s not about the training anymore, it’s about making Onyankopon smile again. I miss that cheesy grin of his already and it’s been, what? Twenty-hours of this gloominess that has gone by?

“I doubt that but you can try. No one’s stopping you.” he shrugs, “Now that I’ve dropped you here, may I please go attend to my business in Wall Sina?”

“If I say ‘no’—”

“Goodbye.” he says and I think he’s about to go before he make a face and looks back at me, “Also, don’t play too much around the Kirstein boy.”

Ah.

“Whatever do you mean?” I ask him innocently, patting the horse’s mane. She has lovely hair indeed, the embrace of rich earth.

Unfortunately, Onyankopon has turned to ultimately-serious-bossman mode. He sighs, “You know what I mean.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having fun, Onyankopon. You should have some fun these days.”

“It’s not fun to be put in that position, Mirabelle. They actually have a word for that.” he says, whipping the reins on the horse.

It moves forward, forcing me to jump back with a gasp.

I cup my hands over my mouth and yell, “What’s that?!”

“Torture!”

“Who’s got his panties in a twist?” I ask myself, watching Mr Grim Reaper himself head off into the gates of Shiganshina.

My stomach twists with unease. He makes it sound like I’m going to cause pain to Jean when that’s nowhere near what I want to do. It doesn’t hurt anyone to flirt and play around a little without any strings attached. At least that’s what it’s like back in Marley.

I could do it as much as I want, until—

“I-I’m not sure.” a voice comes from behind me.

Jean.

“Oh, hi!” I greet him and point in the direction of the gone man, “Did you hear that conversation by any chance?”

He shakes his head, “Just what you said at the end. Onyankopon seems a little grim.”

“Yeah, I think the meetings are getting to his head.” I answer, admiring Jean from below.

Up close, the guy’s big, tall and broad simultaneously. He has slender eyes paired with long, thin eyebrows which exudes a feminine aura amongst the straight nose and frowned mouth. Additional to that, there are those pretty, long lashes that cave his eyes; every fluttering blink is one alike to a lovely maiden. He’s quite handsome though, a gentlemanly handsome that is difficult to find within this field of work.

“I can imagine.” he says.

It appears he's curious about why I'm staring at him. He doesn’t back down or look away from me, he stares back this time.

So he’s not the nervous wreck I thought he was? 

“I thought Hange was training me…” I say, peering behind his shoulder to see no zealous Hange running around, ready to train me.

“About that.” he sighs, “Commander’s gone to a meeting so she told me to train you instead and she sends her regards. I’m gonna be showing you how to use the ODM Gear, hoping that’s okay.”

“Huh…” I respond inquisitively and before I can stop myself, my hands are touching the cool rectangles on his hips. The technology here is definitely a lot more advanced than what I was expecting. It’s so…wait, “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

I can see the alarms going off in his head.

“I don’t know.”

Has a woman never touched him before?

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, “I—”

“Jean.” I utter, holding his shoulders in my hands. He tenses up immediately, answering my question right away, “You’re gonna train me just fine. Don’t be scared. Is this your first time?”

Both of us know the real reason why he’s shaking in his boots; however, neither of us can say the reason aloud.

“My-my first time?”

“First time training someone?” I clarify with a small giggle.

“No, it’s not.”

“Then, let’s go! Where’s the equipment?” 

Jean brings me closer to the Walls. A green crate is loaded with ODM Gear equipment, including the gas cylinders, blades and harnesses. After putting on the various different equipment and being safely strapped up, Jean demonstrates how to use it.

“Your turn.” he prompts me.

“Okay.”

“So, you have to—”

I press the triggers, aiming high enough on the Wall and the gear yanks me up forcefully. I gasp, thinking I’m going to smash my face on the wall but I manage to plant my feet on the Wall, keeping my stance light on the surface.

“Like that?” I ask Jean, looking down at him.

He’s about twenty feet away from me, eyes widened to the brim, “T-That’s perfect! Can you get down?”

I do the same thing backwards and climb down the wall to meet him again.

“How?” Jean asks, his eyes glistening with admiration.

I pull back the strings and they snap into the contraption they come from. I laugh, “I don’t know! But that was really fun! Kinda like rock climbing.”

“Rock climbing…?” he questions, tilting his head to the side.

I forget how underdeveloped it is compared to Marley.

“It’s like a…sport, I think? People climb up rocks or walls using their hands and feet and there are these things that stick out that you use to push yourself up and climb up.” I explain, “I used to have to do rock climbing for training. It’s fun!”

He nods slowly, understanding the concept of it, “That does sounds fun.”

“When we go to Marley together, I can show you!” I tell him.

“Together?”

I want to bite my tongue.

“Not just the two of us! With everyone!” I declare, “Sasha, Conny, Armin, Mikasa, damn, even Captain Levi could climb.”

For the first time in my presence, Jean Kirstein slips out a genuine chuckle. Like he means it. There’s no nervousness exuding from him, rather the enjoyment of my presence.

“For sure, but I can’t get over how quick you grasped that. It’s not easy.” Jean replies, raising an eyebrow, “You’re good.”

I lean in slightly, dropping my voice a little, “I’m good at a lot of things, Jean…”

Just like that, the friendly air vanishes into the ether and is replaced with a drop of suggestion. 

Jean freezes, dissecting my words before his cheeks turn red. 

“Aw, look at you!” I point right in his face, “You’re blushing like crazy!”

“Am not!” he argues, quite defensively, “I don’t even know what you mean by that.”

“You are!” I laugh, finding his coyness amusing.

What’s the point of not admitting it when I watched him come to an understanding on what I just said?

“Whatever,” he huffs and points back at the Wall, “Let’s keep training.”

I can’t stop laughing at him.

“It’s not that funny.”

☆

“Wanna go to the Marleyan restaurant in Wall Rose?” Sasha asks the group.

“Of course you wanna go there.” Conny remarks, suggestion glinting in his eyes.

She hits him on the shoulder, red creeping onto the apple of her cheeks.

I furrow my eyebrows, wondering what’s going on with that comment. I don’t question it too much, fatigued from the combat training we just came from. 

To no avail, Hange highly suggested that I join combat training on the island, despite me being a combat virtuoso. They said, although my combat is adequate, there’s always room for improvement and practising on different targets would do me more good than worse.

I couldn’t argue with them there.

However, I thought I had it in the bag and could convince them otherwise, that’s what put me down, not the training itself. I always thought of myself as a finesser but I guess Hange is just way too smart to finesse. 

“Hey, are you alright?” 

Jean appears beside me, peering down with a cautious look on his face.

I nod, “Just a little tired.”

“I see.” he answers, “Combat training can be tiring around here.”

“Mhm.”

“Stop flirting with Mirabelle and tell us what you wanna do, Jean!” Eren exclaims, playfully punching Jean on the shoulder, “Do you wanna go to Wall Rose?”

Jean shoves him out the way, “Get out of my face, asshole…and as for the restaurant, I don’t think we should go. Everyone’s tired. We gotta go all the way to Wall Rose to eat?”

“Yeah!” Sasha exclaims.

“You just wanna see—”

Sasha slaps her hand to Conny’s mouth instantly, “Shut your ass up. Wanna come, Mimi?”

“For sure. I don’t have anything for the rest of the day either.” I tell her.

“Are you sure?” Jean asks me, “I thought you’re tired.”

“She just said she wants to go!” Conny argues, gesturing both his hands at me flamboyantly

“I’m not asking you.” Jean replies and looks back at me, waiting for an answer.

I break into laughter, “I’m fine with it, really, but a Marleyan restaurant? Didn’t know you guys would have those ‘round here.”

“Best food I’ve ever had.” Mikasa speaks up indifferently.

Everyone hums in agreement at her statement.

The last time I’ve seen people react like that towards food was when—

“Let’s catch the carriage before it leaves for the Walls!” 

We run towards the carriages stationed at the exit of the camp, climbing into whichever ones were accessible to us first. I end up in the last carriages, not wanting to get in between Conny and Eren fighting to see which one would go into the first carriage. Jean follows me into the third and final carriage, presumably for the same reason.

“Have they all gone in the other carriages?” Jean questions, peeking his head out of the carriage.

“Seems like it.” 

After a subtle neigh at the front, the velvety carriage starts moving. It renders me silent for a second as I try to comprehend what’s happening. 

No one else is in the carriage with us. I’m going to be going to the Walls with Jean alone. I’ll have forty-five minutes of him to myself.

“I have to say,” Jean begins, five minutes into the ride, “The way you killed those soldiers when you first came…it was amazing.”

I cross my leg over the other, slinking them back to me as I lean back, “You think so?”

Jean nods vigorously, “I haven’t seen anything like that before.”

“I could tell.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

I take a trip down memory lane to the night before, re-imagining the look plastered on his face—the innocent intrigue and the shimmer of moonlight that swam in his light eyes. I can’t forget how he couldn’t take his eyes off of me, either. I felt so formidable in the moment.

“You seemed really curious,” I answer mildly. Offering a wry smile, I add, “It was cute.”

“Cute?!”

“Cute.” I repeat.

“Cute is not the word to describe me.” Jean retorts.

“Oh, yeah? Then, what are you?”

He rubs his chin, actually thinking about it. 

I don’t know what starts it. 

It must be the way his damn hair. 

It falls in a way that looks incredible, it looks styled with a vehemence of boyishness. A

A sheen layer of sweat on his face, more visible when he looks to the side and the sun hits his face and rolled up sleeves to the elbow because of how hot it is out there. I've been trying to ignore it during combat but now, it’s making me squirm in my seat. 

I think back to how he flung Eren to the ground as if he was just nothing to him, barely a sack of potatoes.

He’s so strong…I wonder if he can read my thoughts or I wonder if he can see how a pool of heat travels down to my womanhood and settles there like it’s its new home. 

If he knew, would he let me take him right there?

“More like…handsome?”

Jean’s eyes sparkle again as he looks back at me—the same look in his face.

He has no fucking idea what he does to me.

I lean forward, arousal sticking to my clit as I mouth, “I’ll tell you what you are, Jean…”

“What’s that?” he asks, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

He must think I’m joking around.

“I think you’re sexy.”

The tension in his jaw slacks, “W-What? I don’t understand.”

“Let me explain it to you.” I reply and reach out to touch a finger to his knee, drawing erratic patterns on it. He tenses up as expected and it goes quiet for a second. All I can hear is the wheels of the carriage pulling us forward and the slight breeze that enters the carriage, sending a chill down my spine.

“There’s a drive in you that I’m attracted to. Your provider mindset, for one, tells me that you bring what is important to the table and you think about others before yourself. But you do it in a way that’s not showy, it’s just who you are. And, when you like someone, you really dedicate yourself to them. The way you think about those you like is only out of love. And, my favourite,” I ease back onto my cushioned seat, the silence from him being the loudest thing in this carriage, “How you lose all power when you look at me.”

The Big Jean makes himself small in his seat.

“I’m sorry.” he almost whispers.

“Sorry? Shouldn’t you be saying ‘thank you’? I just complimented you!”

“Thank you.” he breathes out as if there’s no oxygen in here. He peers at his lap before he looks up, brow furrowed and uncertain, “I think you’re incredible too, by the way. Ever since I saw you defeat those soldiers, I—”

The carriage comes to a halt.

“Huh?” 

We exchange a confused glance. 

I peer outside the carriage. The carriage in front of us opens their door and out comes Sasha and Connny. They come into our carriage and get settled in here.

“What’s going on?” Jean asks disappointedly.

I nearly chortle at the tone in his voice.

“Sorry, Eren started blabbering about freedom.” Sasha replies, getting comfortable next to me, “I couldn’t stand another second of it.”

“He doesn’t get it. No one wants to listen to the same speech again and again.” Conny sighs, sitting next to Jean. He looks between Jean and me, “Bro, you’re like proper sweating. Maybe we shouldn’t have left you here alone with Mirabelle. What have you done with him?”

I laugh at his accusatory tone, “We were just talking.”

“Talking? Jean’s cooking in his clothes.”

“Shut up!” Jean says, pushing him away from him.

Jean casually throws one leg on top of the other. 

It’s only when I look closer I see something peek up at me. 

He catches me looking and changes the way he sits so it’s less obvious. 

Little did he know, I’ve seen those countless times and it only takes time before one explodes.

☆

“Where’s Jeanie-boy gone?” Conny pipes up when we’re seated in the restaurant. 

There are massive fans all around the dining area, cooling us down.

“I think he’s in the bathroom.” I answer casually as I look at the menu in front of me.

The restaurant is by far the most luxurious thing I’ve seen on this island. That’s saying a lot as someone who takes frequent strolls in Sina to attend meetings here and there. It looks somewhat familiar too, in the sense of the vibes.

“He takin’ a shit or something?” Conny remarks, causing the others to laugh.

Conny doesn’t know why he’s in the bathroom. I do. I just keep it quiet.

“What’s the best thing they do here?” I ask Mikasa who happens to be sitting next to me.

“I heard they do the lobsters best—”

It clicks right there and then.

“Hello, everyone. What are you…Mirabelle?!”

I dread it.

I dread it so bad, a morbid anguish blossoming inside me as I blink up. 

In front of me is none other than Niccolo.

My ex.

JEAN KIRSTEIN POV

Jean doesn’t like how eloquent Mirabelle is. 

Her lips move so languidly yet, manages to say everything it needs to within a short time. The way she talked to him in the carriage somehow undid him and his pants. Being stuck in a restaurant bathroom where the walls are paper thin and trying to release the pent up was more than a mere struggle.

He’s like a putty in her hands, moulded and crafted for her to use.

“You make me feel powerful” she had told him.

He hates how, for once, he cannot control what’s happening in his body. It’s like she’s found his weak spot and is stepping into it. It makes him feel powerless—nothing but prey in her eyes.

After the Marleyan restaurant and the ride home, his friends wondered what was wrong with Jean, why their constant teasing wouldn’t rile him up like it usually would. 

Even when Jean slips under his covers at night, he thinks about how Mirabelle spoke to him. Her voice had an effect, she had an effect on him that he couldn’t recover from. 

But he couldn’t let himself fall for her. 

No way. 

That was a death wish. 

He would put a lock on his cock before he imagined how her hands would feel tugging on his hair. Or, maybe how she would sound when he pushes into her. How about how she’d feel clenched around him, all wet and tight for him?

“Fuck!” Jean shouts, sitting up in his bed.

“What the hell, man?!” Conny yells back, equally as frustrated. He sits up, flicking on his lantern, “What’s wrong with your ass?”

“Nothing,” Jean grumbles, getting out of bed, “I’m going out.”

“Where are you going, baby?” Conny asks, softening his voice, “Come on here now. Don’t leave a damsel like me in bed all alone!”

Conny makes what is a horrible attempt of a woman moaning. However, it didn’t matter if it was horrible. Jean had had it. Anything remotely sexual was going to have a horrible impact on him. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, he just knows it’s going to be bad.

He has to get out.

Outside the tent is a new world. He switches on his flashlight to guide him through the darkness to a place where he can unwind. Hopefully, a serene place where he can collect himself for a second and review what’s happening right now; somewhere with no commotion, just the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. Like the rocky pools a few hundred metres from here. 

He’d accidentally discovered it on a walk a while back. Whenever Jean needed to run away for a while, he’d go there. It's been his designated spot.

He walks around the tents, strictly divided between the males, females and the leaders of the place. 

Some lanterns still shone despite it being past two am. 

There were soldiers still planning how to defeat the enemy, coming up with constructive plans and discussing them until dawn. Hange, Levi and Yelena are likely to be awake to be a part of these discussions. They’re saving humanity, meanwhile, Jean had his head wrapped around some woman like a little boy.

Speaking of the devil, Yelena walks right up to him.

“Kirstein, is it?” she asks, getting a good look at his face in the dark, “What are you doing awake?”

Yelena’s comrade has shaken up his mind and he had to go on a fucking walk to clear his head. Obviously, Jean couldn’t tell her that.

“Just walking around.” he grumbles.

“Strange,” she notes with a subtle nod that Jean’s not sure the meaning of. Yelena is a woman of little words and sometimes those words don’t make sense, “Anyways, could you do me a favour?”

“Sure.” he accepts before thinking over it. 

Jean would do anything right now to rid his mind off anything from Mirabelle. He could go to the rocky pools after completing the delegated task.

“I have tons of things to do right now and need someone to assist me. Could you fetch Mirabelle from her tent?” she asks, “I doubt she’s asleep at this hour and I could really use a hand…Kirstein?”

He cannot escape her.

She’s everywhere, at all times, consuming his every thought and circumstance and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Jean sighs in defeat.

“Is there a problem?” Yelena probes.

He will die if he’s asked another question.

Shaking his head, he replies, “I’ll go get her. Where’s her tent?”

“It should be the one that’s the top left corner.” she relays, “Tell her to come to the meeting tent.”

“Okay.”

Yelena walks off the other way.

It takes everything in Jean not to explode right there and then. 

He takes as much of his frustration out on a nearby pebble, kicking it away, simultaneously being aware that there are people sleeping in the tents surrounding him. 

What did he do to deserve this? This is torture, absolutely torture and he wouldn’t wish this on his biggest enemy. As if there weren't already enough problems with planning an attack on Marley, Mirabelle had to make his life miserable.

What should he do?

Oh, but she is so pretty.

Where should he run to and scream?

I want to get to know her more.

He can’t have a full mental breakdown even if he wanted to.

He’s not one for mental breakdown but this…this was a different cause.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

It’s all wrong.

He refuses to back down. 

In fact, he refuses to submit to her womanly wiles.

Jean is a strong guy, scratch that! 

Jean is a strong man with a strong will and numerous strongly built morals. No woman can control him like he’s her personal toy just like that. He is not easily swooned or influenced by anyone. As it happens, he is guarded.

Who is she to him? 

No one.

Exactly.

He will go to Mirabelle right this moment and act as if she had no effect on him!

Yes, there we go.

That’s the Jean he knew. Arrogant, reckless and the daredevil. 

Off he goes, towards the ladies side of the camp. 

As he makes his way, he can’t lie, his heart is clutched in a fist.

It’s the remaining effects of Mirabelle scouring his tainted mind. It’ll take time for her to be removed from his brain but time was all that was needed. 

If not, a lobotomy will do and who better than Hange to perform it? It’s a joke, that’s a joke, right? Jean forces his thoughts to still. He had to do a task first and he needed his full concentration to complete it. He doesn’t have time to waste.

As he inches to the tent Yelena described, he notices that Mirabelle’s lantern is one of the only ones that are turned on this late into the night.

She’s one of the campers that got lucky enough to have a tent to themselves. There could be a specific reason why. He softens a little, wondering what she could be doing up so late. 

Maybe she had trauma-induced insomnia and she couldn’t sleep? What if she needed someone to be by her side right now?

No, stop.

He’s going to march in there, deliver a message, leave and assert the dominance that she took from him.

That is until he sees something strange.

Two pairs of shoes scattered outside the tent, thrown as if they’d been discarded in a hurry. The tent entrance itself is slightly open. Warm light peeks through like a tease. 

It beckons him to get a look at what he can through the tear of the tent…and halts in place.

“F-Fuck, yes~! Right there, right there…” she breathes out, “Nngh~”

Jean’s mouth runs dry.

“You’re doing so good.” a man says, his voice low and muffled. 

Jean is about to pass out.

It could be a mistake.

Maybe he’s seeing something wrong?

Upon closer inspection tells him otherwise.

A man kneels between Mirabelle’s parted legs. He hooks his arms under her thighs and pulls her closer to his mouth, humming against her. Piercing his nails into the fat of her skin, demonstrating for anyone watching (Jean) that she is his.

The soft amber lanterns catch her breasts in the perfect angle, sitting beautifully on her chest. Of course he’s seen the anatomical body of a woman but like this? Never in a million years would Jean think he would see it tonight.

Mirabelle grabs his unruly blonde hair, pursing her lips. Her eyes flutter shut as she tilts her head back, the curve of her body arching, abdomen meeting the man’s forehead as she pushes him in harder. A desperate cry leaves her. It’s so velvety that Jean couldn’t believe it was her making those noises.

He shouldn’t be looking.

This is wrong of him.

Very wrong.

Jean is not a man, he is not moral, not strong-willed, not anything he wanted to be tonight. 

As he’s about to turn away from the scene, seconds after accidentally looking in, Mirabelle’s head comes forward and her eyes lock with his. 

It’s fueled with intensity. The golden flicker of the light takes a dip in her deliberate gaze. Instead of shock, all he sees is dark, wicked amusement plastered on her face like she’s won an award. She lets him watch, lets him bear witness to her, body moving with slow, languid precision, as though the very act of being observed excites her more. She doesn’t flinch or hesitate, she. Gets. Bolder.

She smirks before tipping her head back and putting on the performance of her life, “Yes, Niccolo! I’m close, I’m so fucking close, baby—I’m gonna, ah~!”

Jean runs.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, he just knows that he has to get the fuck out of here. 

Dashing through the dirty paths of the camp, it’s like his lungs want to jump out of his body. He’s in flight mode

“Jean?! Where are you going?!” Yelena shouts at him.

“Don’t go to Mirabelle’s tent!” he warns her

She cackles as he sprints away.

Had she known? If she had, why the hell would she make him go? He should’ve stayed in his room with damsel Conny!

After a couple minutes of running, he arrives at the rocky pools.

Far enough.

Far enough, physically.

Mentally? Never.

He leans against a rock, much taller and sturdier than he is. It’s been a while since he had to break into a full sprint like that. He never imagined catching people fucking would be the cause of it. 

He places his head on the rock, sweat dripping down his face and a situation to handle.

A rock hard cock under his pyjama pants.

Jean’s heart is racing like crazy and he grabs his clamouring chest, gulping nothing but dryness down his throat. On the other hand, his cock throbs with unease. He needs to get off. His morals tell him no. 

Fact of the matter, he doesn’t really have a choice in this.

Mirabelle’s face floats into his mind, her moans, her breasts…

Jean groans, sliding down the rock and hitting the hard ground with a thump.

He is so verily screwed.

He is screwed in a way that he’s never been screwed before and will probably never be screwed the way he is screwed now.

He has to do what he has to do.

Jean brings out his cock from his pants. Why wouldn’t his mind just match with his dick? What is the pain in that? He wonders, is there some part of him…a truly, screwed up, primal side of him that likes the way he’s being treated?

Does he like her having him in control?

Is he a…cuck for watching them like that?!

No, no, I can’t be. Not that.

It’s her.

It’s her long, black hair cascading in waves down her back. She tucks it behind her ear mid-conversation, focused on what the other person says. She nods, smiles and a little physical contact; usually, it’s a pat on the back or a playful hit on the shoulder. 

Her skin is a soft radiance, captured by the core of the sun's embrace and light of the moon’s spirit. 

Her laugh is a high-pitched melody and sounds like she’s being possessed by a banshee half the time. Nevertheless, seeing the corners of her lips perk up at something he said makes Jean swelter.

And, her body.

God, her body. 

A divine sculpture—the ridges of her collarbone, the angle of her rounded shoulders and the curve of her waist; he thumbs the tip of his cock.

He can’t hold back anymore, he can’t stop himself from wanting her.

He wants to kiss her everywhere, appreciate her for existing as she is. She’s like nothing he’s seen before in a woman and there’s nothing more he’d want than to be a part of her world.

A low moan escapes his lips. 

Jean’s hand travels down the shaft of his cock, pumping it slowly. Precum slips through the crack of his palm, lubricating him. 

The throbbing takes a second to ease into his hand. As uneasiness turns into pleasure, the breeze waves into his face, washing over him.

Jean needs more.

He imagines her here. 

He imagines her warmth.

He imagines her asking him how he got into this mess and asking him if he’d like her to take care of him. She looks up at him, sinister eyes and a grin he cannot fully comprehend. It’s in the middle of adorably charming and shit-eating. He tells her ‘yes’ with a shaky breath. 

She takes his cock in her hand.

She spits on his tip, expertly bringing it down. Because Jean knows she knows how to treat his cock.

Her lips meet his in an embrace, traces of the strawberry jam she always buys from the market, a saccharine overload in his mouth. That woman has a knack for sweet things, it’s a bad habit at this point.

So is this.

“Shit—” Jean moans, biting his bottom lip. 

He closes his eyes, a black screen providing a blank canvas for painting the horrid things he desires. No one’s going to be roaming here at this time. He’s free to do whatever he wants.

Then, Mirabelle climbs on top of him, her hands holding onto the blades of his shoulder like they did when he was teaching her how to use the ODM Gear. That slight squeeze and stability that she gave him was enough to send shivers down his spine.

She sinks down onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She grabs his hair, tugs it back just enough for Jean to let out another moan. He puts his face into her chest, hugging his arms around her whole body. There would be no sign of letting go anytime soon. He’d keep her to his body. He would want to stay inside her as long as possible, to keep that connection as long as possible. Because if it ended, Jean would have a missing heart and a half.

Mirabelle would ride him. She bucks her hips and mewl in his ear, making it tingle. She tantalises him, softens him and bullies him. She knows how bad he wants her.

Jean would feel so fucking full inside of her and she’d be so tight around him. Her walls surround his cock so tightly, he’s lucky he doesn’t have to breathe from down there.

He pumps his cock harder, his hips coming up to meet his fist’s demand and finally, he releases.

Strings of white fly out as Jean lets go of himself, falling back on the trusty rock that was able to support him through all this. 

His sight blurs as he peers at the cloudless sky. A billion stars just watched him pathetically imagine a girl and masturbate to it.

It’s okay if he was pathetic.

He can be fucking pathetic for her.

What mattered more was that he wishes she was actually here doing all that to him.

☆

Jean hasn’t recovered.

When he’s seated at the Marleyan restaurant the next afternoon alone, there’s an air of gloom. He has no idea what to do now.

He hasn’t had much to do today, but his friends were piled with heaps to do. There wasn’t room for distraction.

According to Hange, they like to give soldiers rest days so they could reset and have an actual break. They said that it’s better for them to be different from his friends. The reason being that people need breaks from people too.

Levi full disagreed with the whole concept but Hange said it was especially for Levi since his tolerance for people was at a negative. He couldn’t argue with that.

It just so happens that today is Jean’s break day and he was stuck in the Marleyan restaurant before opening (soldier benefits), eating a meal alone.

Was it bad to come to the place where Niccolo works? Maybe. But he’s sure Mirabelle won’t turn up here. She has a hundred MP meetings to attend to.

She simply has no business here.

He had successfully avoided her the whole day. He will continue to do so as a means to escape thinking about whatever the fuck happened last night. 

The Devil herself had slithered into his dreams last night. This was after he caught Mirabelle and went to fist his cock by the pools. He woke up rock hard—no pun intended. 

You can imagine how scrambled his mind, heart and dick are right now.

Jean was extremely lucky that Conny sleeps like a log or else he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of that. What if it got to Mirabelle?

Double kill.

Anyways, he had avoided her the whole day and treating himself during the restaurant’s close before dinner openings was the best way to go about his day. If he stayed in his tent the whole day, he would’ve gone crazy.

He may have done something he wasn’t supposed to.

Although there aren’t any chefs running around (they gotta take breaks too!), he’s able to control himself in a public space. There was that to applaud amongst this mess.

“Well, well, well,” someone says from behind him, lightly stroking his back, “If it isn’t Peeping Tom.”

Jean freezes against the touch. Time itself stops.

She swivels around to meet his face, fingers still on his back. 

He isn’t imagining her here, this isn’t a dream, she’s really here.

Jean chokes on his lobster. So hard that he doubles over his plate.

“Oh no, you poor thing.” she utters.

Mirabelle grabs the jug of water, pours it into Jean’s empty glass. He reaches out to take it from her. She doesn’t meet him halfway. Instead, she drinks the water.

Jean gulps down the cough and stares at her.

She laughs, “Here. Drink it.”

Mirabelle presses the glass against his lips. 

Jean’s on autopilot, he tilts his head back and lets her feed him the drink. 

Then, she sets the drink down and stares at him a second too long. 

He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, how to process this and he can feel himself slowly getting hard again.

She’s done nothing, absolutely nothing and he’s wordlessly done for.

She reaches out and cups one side of his face, wiping a stray water drop from his face. 

She punctures into his gaze and every wall he tries to set up for himself. It turns into paper and finds his real self, putting it up for display.

“Such a pretty face.” she mumbles.

And then, before you know it, she drops his face and leaves the restaurant.

MIRABELLE WINDRIDER POV

“That’s absolutely outrageous!” Onyankopon cries, shooting up from his seat. He slams his hands on the table for effect. 

I roll my eyes for what must be the hundredth time and yank him from the back of his blazer. He falls flatly on his armchair. The stress lines on his forehead aged him by twenty years.

The meeting room is silent but the faces of the MPs are tumultuous with worry. It’s not every day the Onyankopon breaks out in a frenzy. He’s easygoing for the most part.

I wish I could tell you why he burst out. Unfortunately, I’ve lost track of what the meeting was about. It’s some minute detail in the overarching plan.

When I agreed to go to all these boring meetings, what I’d been doing was dragging his ass back down and mediating the arguments that were happening. I’m only here for his comfort and support of these meetings.

I’m a perfect middleman.

I have to say, Paradis Island makes compelling insights. Yelena and Onyankopon do too. However, being the middleman, I have to take in consideration what is the best and causes the least harm and sometimes, both sides don’t seem to consider this as an option.

I appreciate my comrades for their work ethics. They’re more than comrades, they’re friends and if this makes their lives easier here in the meeting rooms, I’ll do it.

“Let’s take a break and resume later.” Pyxis instructs at last, “We need it.”

There’s no arguing there.

Everyone scours from the room, leaving Onyankopon and I alone.

“Can I bring you some water?” I ask gently.

The man is looking at his lap blankly.

Finally, he sighs, “No thank you. I would like to be left alone though. If that’s okay.”

“Sure.” I reply, standing up, “Collect your thoughts and we can talk again before the meeting. I’ll go take a breather too.”

“Okay.” he responds dryly.

I start heading towards the door.

“Mirabelle.” Onyankopon calls.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, ” he tells me, “I appreciate that.”

I smile, “Love you.”

“...love you too.”

Leaving the room, I head down many flights of stairs of the Mitras’ parliament building. I bid my respects to Queen Historia, who is visiting for a council meeting of her own and step out into the chilly night air. 

There’s something about today’s air that makes it so special. The wind flirts with my hair, winding its way through the seams of my clothing.

To think this meeting was going to take my whole day? I was not expecting that. 

I do hope Onyankopon is alright though. This is a lot of stress for one person to take. I want to help my friends. The only way I can do that is take on more, study more and morph into a soldier. There’s only so much the Marleyans can do here with our restrictions and such.

At least Paradis has a whole army, we’re on our own out here. I don’t know what’s going on half the time. I’m here because I hate Marley and this was a chance to go against them. 

I’ve seen enough to prove that it is not an adequate place to live in. Especially as someone who worked close to politicians. Greed, hatred and sin, committed again and again with no remorse entailing their actions.

That’s not what I want to be a part of.

Assassination used to be a way to make money as someone coming from a low-income family and had to survive. I had to kill to survive—isn’t that ironic?

It’s time for me to put that behind me and turn a new leaf.

There is real happiness rooted in this island.

Coming here, I’ve realised the difference.

I’ve met it through my new friends, new life and…Jean.

“Mirabelle.”

I swivel around.

It is no one but him. 

He’s standing under a streetlight like a full force manifestation of my thoughts. Slightly perplexed, a little untidy from the day’s labour but all in all, Jean.

“I was just thinking about you.”

The way we meet these days is starting to not come off as surprises anymore. It’s almost as if there’s this small part of myself that expects him there.

“What?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. What are you doing here?”

“I…” he begins and drops his head, deeming the stoned ground more interesting than me, “I was just finishing up here, I was about to head back, actually.”

“Hm, must be fate,” I say, linking my arm around his. He flinches, “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” he answers, a little more confidently than I know he’s feeling right now. 

A simple touch must break his insides indefinitely. So I innocently smile, squeezing his arm closer to my face. His arm is tough and plush at the same time, telling me that there’s a good amount of muscle but soft enough for a lady to lay her cheek on.

“Shall we?” I ask, nodding towards the empty street, “I don’t have much time.”

“Okay.” 

We walk down the moonlit street in Wall Sina. 

I can feel tension in Jean’s strides. Every step that hits the ground is rough and not fully taken before he takes the other one. He’s not walking fast but there’s an impatience to the way he does this time around. 

He doesn’t walk like this—he usually takes confident, full steps. It’s enough to tell me he’s still awkward from that.

It’s been a few days since Jean walked in on me and Niccolo. 

Jean’s presence was nothing out of the ordinary. It was right for him to be there, to watch me and wish it was him that was between my legs like that. 

I, for one, do wish that. 

Since he zeroed in on me like that, I’ve never wanted anything more. 

I’d take it so slow, nice and slow, fuck into him until he eases into my body and can take over. There’s nothing hotter than a man who lets me take the lead in the bedroom.

Niccolo doesn’t do that. 

He’s controlling, demanding and can barely make me cum.

I have to clear this up with Jean first. 

I don’t want this to get in between us.

It could start something new though…

“About that night.” I say as we stop under a streetlight, “Niccolo and I aren’t together. Like, at all. He’s an ex.”

It flickers, a constant struggle to seize the light, only for it to evade at every attempt.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to walk into you and him. Yelena wanted me to get you—”

“No.” I interrupt firmly, “I know you like me and you liked what you saw.”

He unwinds his arm from mine, looking anywhere but at my face.

“I—”

He slowly backs up.

“You’ve felt that way from the start.” I continue, walking towards him, “It’s written all over your face. On the first night, in the carriage, when you walked in on me and, look, even now. Why can’t you just admit it?”

He hits the pillar of some desolate luxury motel, broad shoulders taking up the entire distance of it. Despite that, there’s this deniance furrowing in his eyebrows that I’m slowly starting to dislike. It was cute at the start but I need him to own up to it, own up to it like a man.

“...Mirabelle.” 

What bullshit.

“Jean.” I state, looking up at him, “I want to fuck you so bad that it hurts.”

Like magic, the streetlight turns on. A gentle buzz maintains as I search his face. Red blossoms on his cheekbones but no words draw from his mouth.

“There you are, Mirabelle!” someone calls me.

Pyxis is in the distance, waving at me, “We oughta get going. The meeting is resuming soon.”

Talk about horrible timing.

“Right behind ya, baldie.” I reciprocate his wave.

Pyxis walks back towards the building and I turn back at Jean one last time. 

One last chance…and…nothing.

I give up.

“Coming, Mirabelle:?” Pyxis calls.

“Yes!”

I walk away from what could have been.

[umemiyan]

'i think you deserve a treat' with jean and maybe some hybrid/petplay stuff idk its your choice ! c:

thank you robin !

𝗝𝗘𝗔𝗡 𝗞𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗖𝗛𝗧𝗘𝗜𝗡 𝗫 𝗔𝗙𝗔𝗕!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / canine hybrid!reader (type unspecified for funsies) / reader is in heat / unprotected piv / based on prompt #38 from this list

HI HI TYSM!!!! i'm not super into pet play itself but i do love hybrid stuff!! so i decided to go with that hehe <3

the large size of jean's hands is always apparent whenever they splay across the tops of your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles into the bare skin while you're perched in his lap. however, you're much more attuned to the sensation of his sizeable palms and fingers than usual this time, heated flesh absorbing his touches like a sponge, ears perking in interest while the entirety of your body inevitably becomes receptive.

your eyes fall closed when he kisses your throat, his tongue tasting and appreciating your compliance.

"you've been really easy-going today," he muses between kisses, one hand skimming along your hips and lower belly. "been kinda nice. i think you deserve a little treat, don't you?"

you can feel his smirk against your neck and it irritates you, but it doesn't stop the wet patch on your panties from increasing in size, swollen cunt needy and eager for attention.

"i will bite your carotid," you state plainly into his ear to express your annoyance with being equated to an obedient beast, sliding the tip of your tongue over your pointed canines and incisors. you can smell his human pheromones and arousal. you wonder if he's able to smell yours.

jean chuckles instead of getting snippy in return, content in knowing that your bluff is meaningless. "hey, i don't think that'd be such a great idea," he says before licking the sweat from your collarbone, his hand moving to the small of your back and gently pressing, forcing your body to react by instinctively arching your spine. "i know you're in heat, baby. you need me."

you quiver and stifle a whimper, cunt clenching and further slicking up at the realization. if your panties weren't holding it in, you'd be dripping into his lap.

the frustration urges you to pull him up for a proper kiss, busying your mouth with the exploration of his own while you rock your hips down into his bulge. jean kisses you back with fervor and starts working to undo his belt buckle and zipper, promptly pulling out his hardened cock and stroking it against your belly. your tail twitches.

you moan into his mouth when his fingers pull the soaked fabric of your panties to the side and slide against the silken arousal of your pussy, gauging your readiness for him and teasing the bud of your clit for his amusement. your hips rise almost of their own accord, nestling the tip of his cock against you and then sinking down with a wet noise, no longer keen on drawing things out. your eyes roll back and you deflate against him once you're fully seated, the satisfaction making you too dizzy to stay upright.

"fuuuuck," he hisses, balls already coated in your juices and length being milked by the desperation of your cunt. you're both already on the verge of orgasm, delirious from how your heat manages to entirely consume the two of you. jean simply hopes that he'll be able to keep up.

[daisynik7]

Jean Kirstein [Masterlist]

[*indicates NSFW]

Requests

Makeup Sex After a Fight*

y2k karaoke party

"Promiscuous" by Nelly Furtado ft. Timbaland*

"Meet Me Halfway" by the Black Eyed Peas

"Freek-A-Leek" by Petey Pablo [Eren x f!reader x Jean]*

Most of my work is explicit and NSFW, so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission.