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planeteroticaaa · 8 months

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— ALL MINE

(part of erotica’s & lovae’s valentines special💋)

ice hockeyplayer!jean who walked around the campus with the many gifts and trinkets various girls gave him, each one wishing him good luck for the big game today. he didn’t care about the chocolates, teddy bears, or the other stupid shit they gave him. hell, he didn’t even bother reading the love letters. none of it meant anything to him when he had to figure out an over the top way to make you his valentines because not only were you his soulmate and the one he’s supposed to grow old with, but he needed to win you back.

he walked past your lecture hall like he did everyday on his way to his own, thinking about how he used to be late to his own class trying to walk you to yours. it never mattered to him seeing as he always made up for it by participating in class and getting high grades on assignments. he didn’t know why he still poked his head inside the room to see if you were there. he tells himself and his friends that it’s to make sure you “got to class safely”, but in reality, he knows nothing’s gonna happen to you in the 5 to 6 minute walk from the dining hall to your lecture. truth be told, he really just wanted to see you. since the two of you broke up, you avoided him like the plague, but he knew you would have no choice but to see him when he’d visit the room you were in daily, using the fact that one of his teammates was in the same class as you.

though today was different because right when he was about to go into the room, he watched that very teammate ask you out with flowers and chocolates. he glared, scoffing watching you act all “excited” about candies you hated and flowers that weren’t even your favorite. it took everything in him to stop himself from going in there and breaking his jaw when you kissed his cheek and hugged him with your arms around his neck and his on your waist. how would you feel watching him kiss a girl after reading her love declaration?! it was even worse knowing he would have to play with him later today. the whole team knew he was still obsessed with you, especially this guy since he always teased jean about it so what fuck was he doing asking you out?

he thought about it the entire day. he knew that many guys were interested in you, but he didn’t think somebody would actually be bold enough to do something about their feelings. he had on his gear, ready for the final game of the season. his coach’s words of motivation went in one ear and out the other as he stared down his smug ass teammate. as everyone started to hype themselves up with different handshakes and chants, jean remained quiet, even bumping his shoulder going past him. his final straw was seeing you cheering at the game, just, not for him. you screamed that asshole’s name, your friends alongside you all happy about your possible new relationship and when he winked at you, jean tackled him onto the ice.

he knew he was in a world of trouble now once he got on top of him. he grabbed the collar of his shirt and began punching him, not stopping when the guy managed to get situated and got a few hits in, or when the security rushed over, or when he heard his coach yelling at him from the side. he had slight bruising on his cheek, his lip was bleeding, his knuckles were scratched up when he threw his gloves off, and he was being penalized and cussed out by his coach, but it was worth seeing you stare at him with your mouth gaped open. your more confused than pissed face said, “did you seriously just do that?” and the wink he gave you with the smirk on his lips while his coach spat in his face said, “yeah, and i’d do it a thousand times over.”

he wasn’t shocked when you went home right after the incident. he was hoping to talk to you once the game was over, but it worked out since it gave him time to buy the snacks and sweets you actually liked, flowers that were actually your favorite, and prepare his “i’m sorry, please take me back” speech. he originally wanted to do something crazy to show his never ending love, but it was clear after today he had no time to waste. with a done up basket, pretty flowers, and a speech he recited under his breath on the way to the door, he was ready though when he knocked on your front door and you opened it wearing his spare jersey he thought he lost with nothing visibly under it, arms crossed over your chest and leaning against the door frame with a disapproving look on your face, everything he planned to say left him at that very second. “well?” you asked with an eyebrow raised. “gimme another chance?” he asked, an unsure grin on his pretty, bandaged face. you looked him up and down and just sighed before grabbing him by his shirt collar and dragging him inside the room.

“s-shit baby…you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groaned, his head thrown back on your pillow, big, veiny hands on your hips as you bounced yourself on his cock with your hands back behind you on his strong thighs. you almost forgot how big and girthy his dick was, the stretch burning you when you first sat down on it after months of nothing and guys that were no match to him. “look so beautiful riding me like that,” he said mostly to himself, staring up at you with lust blown pupils, taking in the blissful expressions you made and the softness of your breast as he massaged them under the jersey.

fuck, it felt amazing, the veins running along his length grazing your walls, the curve ensuring the fat tip hit you right where you needed it, the thickness of it giving you that same delicious burn from before that had your legs about to give out, the ring of white cream you made at the base of his cock dripping down his balls, ass sticking to his pelvis from your mixed, gluey essences. you were getting tired and he could tell you were with how you occasionally didn’t bounce, but instead rocked your hips with your nails digging into his skin and biting down on your bottom lip.

he watched you, wondering when you’d quit being stubborn and admit you need help as he moved his hands all over your body, pinching your nipples, gripping your waist, harshly slapping your ass. he hadn’t had you like this in months, dick inside your tight walls making a mess all over him and whatever surface was beneath you. how long had it been since you fucked somebody? he hadn’t done anything to any woman since you’d broken up, even going as far to tell them that he was still with you. well, it didn’t matter, he could tell from the whimpers and whines that left your lips as your desperately rode him to continue that sensation of his cock bruising your cervix that if anybody fucked you, it wasn’t like this.

it was when your pace significantly slowed down that he sighed and pulled you down to him. your arms immediately wrapped around his neck like you were waiting for him to do this as he propped his feet into the bed sheets. with his hands on your ass, spreading it apart, he started to thrust up into your pussy. you screamed, eyes rolling back as his fat cock dragged in and out of you, balls slapping against you from the fast, rough change in pace. you could tell much he missed you from the way he hugged you close to him while making you cream in his cock. “yes! j-jean—yes, just like that, don’t stop!” you cried out, drool dripping down your chin as he fucked you further through your orgasm, overstimulating your pussy when he reached a hand down to rub harsh circles on your puffy, throbbing clit.

“missed you so much, baby,” jean grunted, the speed of his thrust into your pussy not letting up. “i—i missed you too! missed you so much,” you cried, moving your head from its spot in the crook of your neck to look him in his light brown eyes. your lips soon met his, tongue hastily pushing inside his mouth and swirling along his after such a long time without one another. everything was messy, saliva coating both of your chins, the liquids from your previous orgasms painting the bedsheets and allowing him to better fuck up into you with ease, the thin layer of sweat that covered your bodies sticking the two of you together.

“please, please, please fill me up,” you babbled incoherently, begging when you felt his cock start twitching inside your tight, gummy walls. his thrust became rougher, the broken, but rough and intense rhythm of his mushroom tip hitting everywhere you needed it too taking you to the brink of another orgasm. “imma fill your pretty pussy with my cum…she’s missed me so much, hasn’t she?” “yes! s-so much!” you gasped, eyes in the back of your head and body jerking as you started creaming all over him again. “i’m cumming! ‘m cumming, ‘m cumming, fuckkk!” you practically sobbed, pussy gushing. your walls spasmed around his cock, making him pump your insides with his hot, thick, ropes of cum.

you felt it leak out of your abused hole as he continued to fuck and overstimulating the two of you through your orgasms to the point you were crying and he was biting down on your shoulder with his eyes rolled back. you continued to fill the room with the most filthy noises, the sweet squelching sound from you pussy echoing and the slapping of your skin on his being all that you could hear once he had you seeing stars because he didn’t stop, even when he was about to cry from the overwhelming feeling himself. he was just too scared to lose you again.

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erwinsmithsmissingleftarm · 11 months

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BEING JEAN KIRSTEIN'S WIFE:

SFW

He's totally the type to brag out about his relation. Like, look how my girlfriend is perfect, she's all mine, ect. ect.

Likes to take your hand in his to show your matching rings while fixing the person in front of you in the eyes.

His favorite nicknames for you are "sweetheart", "princess" but the top of the top is "my wife". He loves how it sounds easy, yet so sweetly and loving.

If you had a bad day, he will drag you down on the bed, tickling you until you beg for him to stop while laughing like crazy. Or he will hug you by behind and leave long and passionate kisses on your neck.

He also like to nibble on your ear, watching you with a smirk while squirming under his teasing. He won't stop until you beg for it, it's sure.

Gets easily jealous and won't hesitate to confront any guys who approach you too much for his liking. He's just going to hug you while giving a dead stare to them.

Also, he is super caring, listening to you venting after a hard day or giving you a massage to relax your tensed muscles. Jean will literally do anything for you.

Man has legit planned all your future in his head but he won't say it because he's scared you will mock him.

Is also over-anxious about you, always imagining the worst scenario that could happen and just stress himself for nothing.

He secretly likes to be the little spoon. He found it adorable how your smaller body is pressed against his back.

NSFW

He definitively got the marking kink. He loves to cover your body in hickeys and bites, just to show that you are taken to other people.

"Like this, other guys will see you're already mine."

He will pass his thumb on the big purple hickey on you neck while you will be half-asleep after a rough seance of love-making with a proud smirk. Then he will kiss your forehead.

"So gorgeous, my wife..."

And... this man got a HUGE breeding and size kink. He just loves to imagine you being pregnant with his child... finally build a family. It's so exciting that he won't help but transform your insides into a creampie.

About the size kink, he likes to see your small body squirm under him as he fucks you like if there was no tomorrow, totally fucking your brain. Wear his shirt who is too big for you and he will turn MAD.

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x reader smut #jean x reader #jean x reader smut #jean kirstein smut #jean kirstein #jean aot smut #jean aot #attack on titan smut #aot smut #aot headcanons smut #headcanons #smut headcanons #jean kirstein headcanons #jean kirstein smut headcanons

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ohimsummer · 2 years

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this has been in the drafts for months lol

— fem! Reader x roommate! Jean, very obvious flirting, a hint of suggestive, this isn’t really proofread I just had roommate!jean + bsf2lovers on my mind

roommate! Jean who isn’t oblivious to the flirtatious undertones in all the interactions you have with him. He knows it, and he knows roommates! Connie and Eren can see it too, and they love to tease him about it.

roommate! Jean who isn’t listening to the obvious excuses uttered from your lips about the new denim shorts you’re wearing. How you’re tucking his fingers into the pockets to “show him how small and useless they are” or rubbing his other hand over your ass “to let him feel the bedazzled pockets on the back”. He gives your rear a light squeeze, and poorly holds back a smirk as you let out a squeak and stumble a little closer to him.

roommate! Jean who doesn’t mind letting you use his phone. Has a folder with all the selfies or candid shots of him that you’ve taken. Doesn’t change the ‘my pretty girl <3’ that you’ve set as a contact name for yourself, nor change the specific song you’ve set as your own ringtone. ‘I get a special ringtone.’ You tell him matter-of-factly.’So when I call, you automatically know it’s me.’

roommate! Jean who ignored the knowing looks Connie and Eren throw his way. Walks away when they start teasing him about his pretty little plaything always latched onto his arm as a silent way to claim him.

roommate! Jean who doesn’t mind when you steal his hoodies. He knows you like his scent on them, and he only takes them back when you’ve had them long enough to let the smell of your lotions and sprays embed themselves into the seams of the clothing. Maybe he wears that shirt he just took back from you to bed, and maybe he inhales the deep scent of your cocoa butter as he gets off to the thought of you.

roommate! Jean who doesn’t object when you start referring to yourself as his girlfriend, or him as your boyfriend. You don’t officially ask him out, or ask him if he wants to be your boyfriend or you his girlfriend. He lightly shoves you onto the bed since you’re being annoying and he wants you out out of the way. “Jean!” You whine at him. “You’re gonna treat your girlfriend like that?” And he immediately responds “Absolutely.”

You and roommate! Jean who have gotten so used to each other’s company and enjoy each other’s presence so much. You get along with all 3 of your roommates, but Jean is like your best friend. And it feels so natural as your relationship slowly slips into something romantic. Feeling your heart pound when you stare at him sprawled out on your bed. Jean imagining you two living alone together as you come out in his t-shirt after a shower.

roommate! Jean who realizes this was your plan all along. To get him to fall head over heels for you. To make him all yours.

#jean x reader #jean x reader smut #roommate!jean #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirstein x reader smut #jean kirstein x you #Jean kirstein smut #aot x reader #aot x reader smut #aot smut #Jean smut

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bleubrri · 2 years

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۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ ɪᴛ’s ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ ! — ᴊᴇᴀɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

༄ؘ ˑ contains: best friends → lovers , mutual pining , costumes errywhere , dry humping , m!oral , jean whining n whimpering hehe , reader bein kinda bossy >:7 , black coded!fem!reader , vaginal sex , creampie [ maybe more idk bro it’s 3am @_@ ]

༄ؘ ˑ wc: SIGH 4k :/

༄ؘ ˑ a/n: this is for the if you really think that you can stomach me collab by the light of my life @strawberrystepmom !! i wanted to post it in october but i’m useless so forgive me T^T lil talk about protection in there—communication is sexc!! also pls use condoms + practice safe sex xoxo

"these are all awful." you whine, sitting against jeans headboard and scrolling through his 'costume ideas' pinterest board.

he’s got his head underneath the desk, trying to fish out the mario kart disc thats fallen down the back, so his response is muffled. "they’re the most popular ones from the last decade!"

"jean, i am not wearing any of these."

he shuffles back out, dust covered disc in hand and pouting down at you. "there isn't one that you like?"

"not remotely."

"you’re being picky." he says, slotting the disc into the console and tossing you the player 1 controller.

"i’m being honest." you mutter, scrolling past a particularly awful rendition of a cops & robbers costume. he flops onto the bed and rests his head on your shoulder, peeking at the screen.

"y'know I worked really hard cultivating this. hours of research and painstaking decisi—hey!" his head knocks against the headboard when you yank yourself from under his weight.

"you're so annoying.." you mutter, navigating the homescreen and selecting grand prix. the character and course selection are accompanied with jeans babbling (we’ve gotta pick a good one—the standards are high! maybe i should just pick and force a decision on you—) that earns him unconvinced grunts and looks of skepticism.

the subject gets temporarily lost in the chaos that naturally ensues when jean selects rainbow road, 3 minutes of screaming and curses and shuffling onto your knees to get a better vantage point. it isn’t until the final lap when your item box is shuffling that you pipe up, “i guess we don’t have to do something matching..”

jean almost veers off of the track.

he frowns, glancing at your profile as he tries to maintain his first place spot. “…what?” he says. you’ve always dressed up together. since you were kids halloween had been your guys’ favourite holiday, and yet here you were suggesting that you break a years long (albeit unofficial) october tradition.

“i mean we could just go as separate things? if that makes it easier.” and it seems like appropriate timing when you unleash a blue shell and obliterate jeans universe.

you’re glowing, shrieking in triumph as you pass the finish line and leave jean in the dust. he watches your characters parade around the winners podium with a clenched jaw and sinking feeling.

“sure.” he agrees, tight lipped smile making you pause. you didn’t really expect him to agree—you’d only suggested it in case he had a particular costume that he was set on wearing. jean had always been the one to pick your costumes, you just went along with it, and always ending up looking decent so you couldn’t complain. he was always more into the whole idea of dressing up anyway. but you hadn’t really anticipated him ditching your thing in order to.. what, impress some new college friends?

you blink at him, a protest like the cork of a wine bottle, stuck in your throat and threatening to choke you. “cool.” you manage, “just.. let me know what you’re going as, yeah?”

“tryna scope out the competition?”

you give him a good natured shove, rolling your eyes as a smile fights it’s way across your face.

something like that, you think.

this was a bad fucking idea.

as the rhythmic percussion from the speakers gets close enough to rattle your bones, it starts to set in that jean was right. people have taken their costumes really fucking seriously. there are a few token stragglers: eren, in a hoodie and a purge mask and a short, raven haired senior with faux fangs and devil horns. but for the most part all you can see is elaborate sfx gore, girls in animal ears and enough fabric to border on public indecency. and everyone looks great.

you feel pathetic, turning up in a matching costume unbeknownst to your best friend. what if he’s mad? you’d gone from feeling somewhat pretty to utterly mortified in the span of a tacky monster mash-grime remix. your internal debate of whether to bolt back down the road and uber home is interrupted by connie (gruesomely accurate stitches and foam kitchen knife complementing his chucky outfit) who tackles you in a bear hug that reeks of tequila.

“y’look great!” he slurs, clinging to you for so long that he starts swaying.

stifling a laugh, you detach from him and start guiding him back inside. “thanks con, you too.” you shout over the music.

after successfully delivering connie to mikasa (in a very expensive looking black swan costume) you start to navigate the crowd in an attempt to find something to drink.

jean had been developing a steady buzz in the hour or so that he’d been here. he wasn’t having fun. you’d rejected his offer of a ride and for some reason it had given him the urge to drink his blood volume in vodka cokes. he’d made pretty good headway so far, drowning out the compliments on his frankenstein costume with deep gulps from his glass. it felt weird, not having your complimentary figure beside him to admire all night.

somewhere between the fourth beer and third shot of rum he decided that he was mad at you. but it had dissipated pretty quickly—he was refilling his glass when he caught a glimpse of you.

connie was half-slung over your shoulder (gripping you awfully tight and saying something into your ear that has jeans teeth grinding together) but he could still clearly see the monikers of your costume. white streaks in your hair. blackened stitches along your jaw that mirror his own. jean feels the air get punched from his lungs when his eyes scan over your dress. the sheer, pale fabric practically glowing in the dim lighting. there’s a white corset that hugs your waist and follows the curve of your hips that jean can’t seem to tear his gaze from. the whole ensemble.. it’s hauntingly beautiful. you’re beautiful.

jean swallows down a forbidden feeling that claws at his ribcage, tears at the flesh of his throat in its frenzied attempt to escape.

he bolts down the hall to connie’s room, shouldering past vague acquaintances and slipping into his friends bathroom. the white knuckle grip that he has on the sink isn’t doing much to help ground him. his heart hammering in his chest and his head spinning unfortunately isn’t entirely the alcohols fault. scooping some cold water into his cupped hand, jean gulps it down and tries to cool the heat painting his cheeks and swirling in his gut.

bride of fucking frankenstein. is that why you’d asked what he was dressing up as? he groans, pressing the chilled tips of his fingers into his temple, mindful of the black face-paint stitches adorning his forehead. jean has spent almost 2 decades carefully steering you towards costumes that were safe—cute and perfect for the best of friends. jean has long since had his grand epiphany, long since resigned himself to keeping it all to himself, long since mourned the loss of what might have been. but he cannot risk a lifelong friendship with you on a gamble of ifs and maybes. so he straightens his jacket, plasters on his brightest smile and heads straight for you.

“well well well.” he drawls, coming up behind you as you’re mixing a drink. the sound of his voice has you sucking in a breath and turning to him with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“couldn’t help yourself, huh? guess you’re just obsessed with me.”

you grin, glad that he seems like the jean you know and love. “please, this was a last minute ditch effort.” you shoot back, “i just couldn’t find anything else that looked okay!”

“ohh of course. forgive my wildly inaccurate assumption then.”

you chuckle, handing him a drink as you pour yourself another. “seriously though, dyou hate it?”

jean frowns over the rim of his cup, taking in your doe eyes and vulnerable expression that point to you being serious. “hate it? what would i hate it?”

“i don’t know.. you wanted to dress up alone this year so.. i thought you might be disappointed.” he stares at you blankly, cup hovering away from his lips. he’s got such pretty lips, you’ve always thought so. it would be.. weird to tell him that, right? though it’s probably weird how hard you’re staring at them right now and—oh god you’re staring.

“you wanted to dress up alone!” he says, confused.

“wh—i didn’t! i suggested it for you but.. i love our couples costumes.” you give him that shy smile that he adores and jean feels his insides turn to jelly. you have to know what you’re doing. you’ve baited him—hook, line and sinker and like the lovesick little guppy that he is he’s latched on and being stripped of oxygen.

“couples costumes?” he breaths.

“yeah i mean, we’re kind of like a couple.” you shrug, and jean almost faints. “we do everything together.” oh god, you need to shut the fuck up before you ruin everything. before he calls you out for overstepping and—

a whirlwind of colour that takes the form of sasha in a willy wonka costume (complete with crumpled wrappers spilling from her pockets) is suddenly ushering you both towards your group of friends before jean can respond and you can apologise. she pushes you down into the circle that’s forming, empty bottle of corona sitting menacingly in the centre.

jean groans, running a hand through his hair in a way that you can’t look at for too long or you might do something you’ll regret.

“what’re we? 16?” sasha just sticks her tongue out and slots down between macro and an on-the-verge-of-passing-out connie.

the games a hybrid—spin the bottle and 7 minutes in heaven, with people bending over the circle for a peck on the lips while the current 2 victims occupy the storage closet at the end of the hall. you find your eyes are focused on the fascinating items on the shopping list stuck to the fridge as jean locks lips with a pretty little blonde girl—hitch, you’re pretty sure. you don’t notice the glares that your best friend sporadically shoots in reiners direction when the bulky blonde kisses you for a little longer than necessary, earning whoops and cheers from your giddy friends. when the flick of erens wrist dictates that you and jean are next for the closet, the whole group groans.

“what?” floch says, clearly confused as to your apparent reputation.

“these are the worst.” mikasa deadpans, earning a playful shove from you.

“we are not!”

“what, they fuck super loud or something?” floch asks. jeans cheeks are reddening at the implication.

“hardly.” connie mumbles, suddenly following the conversation. “last time they were in there forever, found ‘em passed out after watchin’ a movie on his phone.”

you smile, pushing yourself up and extending a hand to jean. “i’m thinking insidious 2? maybe the conjuring?”

“stop. you know hocus pocus is more my speed.” he matches your smirk and laces your hands together, your friends’ booing accompanying you down the hall as you make your way to the closet.

you’re both settled on the floor, backs against the shelves and scrolling through jeans phone to find a movie. it’s dark, the only light coming from the small screen, but he can still see the outline of your figure in his peripherals, pressed up against him with your head on his shoulder, where it belongs.

“hey.” he finds himself blurting out. it’s the familiarity, the closeness that’s loosening his lips and making his iron resolve crumble.

“hey.” you smile up at him, and as he skims over your face, long lashes swept with mascara, pointed brows and lips sculpted with a dark crimson that almost looks black, jean has the startling urge to confess that he’s hopelessly, desperately in love with you.

“did you mean it? before..”

“what?”

“that we’re like a couple.” he presses.

“oh, i—” theres an apology on the tip of your tongue that somehow morphs under the intensity of his gaze, warm eyes piercing even in the low light. “i mean, we are, aren’t we? strangers always think we’re together. we’re just not, ah.. intimate like a couple.”

jeans ears are ringing. what might have been is beginning to look like what could be, what’s right at his fingertips.

“do you want to be?” it’s barely a whisper, his face so close to yours that when he swipes over his lips you can feel the heat from his tongue. your gaze flickers down, glued to his lips, and without a second thought you find yourself nodding.

“are you sure?” this time, he’s so close that you can feel the syllables against your lips.

“kiss me.”

and jean does not need to be told twice.

it’s a chaste thing, a sweet thing. just skin against skin. you both share a sigh against eachother and it’s filled with so much relief, so much longing that it’s only natural for his hands to make their way to your cheeks, coaxing your head back as his tongue starts to lick into your mouth.

wet smacking and heavy breaths are fogging the space of the closet as your hands curl around his wrists. jeans hands cup your jaw, a breathy chuckle bubbling up when he rests his forehead against yours. it’s so infectious that you find yourself giggling along with him, mirroring the shapes he traces into you on his pulsepoints.

“you have no idea.” jean finds himself mumbling between slow savours of your lips. “god, you drive me crazy.” and you do. he thinks he can feel his fucking brain chemistry altering with every brush of your tongue against his own.

it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore the desire pooling between your legs at the feeling of your best friend cradling your face like you’re made of glass and kissing you until you’re dizzy. your limbs feel phantom as you slowly push him against the shelves, your thighs finding purchase surrounding his long legs and hands slipping into his hair. his phone is still on somewhere, cool-blue light casting shadows over your figure. even straddling him, you’re only marginally taller, but jean loves it, your pretty face there for him to behold and your tits squished against the confines of your corset at the perfect level to latch onto. your cleavage being on display is more of an obvious byproduct of having breasts as apposed to a purposeful attempt at being alluring, but jean thanks whatever deity is looking over him and happily sucks a trail of bruises into the soft skin before him. he can feel your breathing increasing with every graze of his teeth, every violet mark etched into your skin. and when he delivers a particularly harsh nip, your thighs clenching around him and your grip on his nape tightening, jean thinks he has to be ascending.

the tent in his pants is considerable, poking into your core even through the whispy layers of your dress. large hands have settled on your waist when you start to rock in his lap, a sputtering groan spilling into your chest as his dick twitches in anticipation.

“fuck, jean—i need you.”

he’s frantic, bunching up your dress to expose your bare thighs and dampened panties. he perches you over his dick, stifling a moan from the pulsing heat of your cunt radiating against his bulge. the movements of your hips are aided by warm hands settled on them, grinding you against his cock as you gasp and moan at the friction. he almost whines in response, fingertips digging into your soft flesh. “don’t—oh shit—don’t have a condom.”

he can’t form a sentence, let alone a coherent thought. but like the angel that you are, you do it for him, tug his face back from where it’s buried in your neck, smiling fondly at his lidded eyes and parted lips. “i mean, i’m clean. and.. on birth control.” you whisper, as if he wasn’t nursing you day and night after your IUD appointment. tucking a strand of hair behind the reddened tip of his ear, you press your lips to the stubble that peppers his jaw. it’s rough, mildly grating in a way that brings heat to the surface of your skin and has you wondering how it would feel against your inner thighs. “and i trust you.” you smile.

a confession is dangerously close to bursting from his chest. jean might as well just plunge a fist through flesh and bone, part his ribcage and present his beating heart to you. he would do it, if you asked.

“fuck, are you sure?” he’s blindly scrambling for his phone. “i—i’m clean and everything but are you sure?” and suddenly the screen is being lit up in front of you with goddamn test results. you laugh, because it’s so sweet and so jean—giving you peace of mind despite your assurances, checking in on you again and again because he cares. you pull up your own recent results and present it to him, his eyes barely flicking over it before his gaze is relocked with yours. you chuck your phone to the side, palming his bulge in languid strokes with your free hand and shuffling down the length of his legs. “never been more sure of anything.”

jeans so hopped up on endorphins, on the taste of you and the arousal searing his skin that he hardly notices you flicking the clasp of his belt buckle. he’s shook from his stupor when he feels the cool air hit his dick, tip shiny with so much precum that its started to drip down to his balls. you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the slight curve of his shaft, the bulbous head and mushroom tip, the length of it has your eyes wide and mouth pooling with saliva. you delight in the way his cock twitches and he shivers when you blow against his wet slit. and when you wrap a hand at his base, immediately pumping him with slickened strokes, he reels, arching into your touch and slamming a hand over his mouth to muffle his groans.

oh god, oh god you’re gonna ruin him, thumbing his slit and squeezing his cockhead until he’s leaking into your hand and planning your honeymoon. pink darts from between your teeth and you press the flat of your tongue against him, salty liquid bursting across your tastebuds that has you humming and taking the tip of his dick into the wet heat of your mouth. jeans nails are digging bloody crescents into the skin of his palm as he tries to hold back the sounds of his pleasure, but when you suckle on his slit and swirl your fucking tongue against the sensitive underside of his cock, jean feels his balls tighten and flames ignite under his skin.

“shit��shitshitshit wait!” and you’re pulling off of him with a lewd pop and a ditzy smile. there’s a string of saliva and pre that tethers him to your lips and jean doesn’t think you’ve ever looked so beautiful.

“god you’re so..” jeans panting, scouring his lust-dipped brain for a word that does you justice. his reaction has you preening, dragging down your panties and pecking his lips with a grin. “so’re you.”

your thighs return to their place around his hips, the bare heat of your sexes mingling when you press your clit into the underside of his shaft from its place against his stomach. jeans hands are guiding your mouth to reconnect with his, desire clawing at his chest. “let me taste you.” he breaths.

your pussy flutters at his request, baritone syllables making more slick ooze from your slit. “as much as i would love that,” you link your hands around his broad shoulders, pressing your weight into your knees to position his cock over your dripping entrance. you can see the beginnings of a protest shaping his pretty lips that you’re quick to silence, “i want you to cum.” and when his dick is enveloped with hot, wet softness, jean can’t do anything but gasp.

while the tightness of your cunt is threatening to milk him dry, he knows this can’t exactly be comfortable for you, the wetness of your shared arousal doing little to compensate for the lack of prep. gentle rolls of his hips accompany soft words and presses of his lips to the trail of bruises along your chest. “shh, you’re okay. it’s just me, just focus on me.”

slippery circles are pressed into your clit that have you relaxing under his touch and clenching around his cock simultaneously. “look how good you’re doing, baby.” he whipers, your hazy eyes blinking down to where you’re connected. you haven’t taken all of him, though he doesn’t seem to mind, his thrusts picking up and settling into a pace that has your toes curling. one of your hands slips from around his neck in a stubborn blur. he has to cum first. jean does more for you than he probably realises, doting on you like the angel that he is. they’ll be time for more later. but he has to have the first. your fingers trail the soft skin of his sac, nails grazing the cropped hair at his base that has him shuddering beneath you. you can almost feel his load churning under your touch when you roll the heavy weight of his balls between your fingertips.

electricity is sparking between you—it’s under your skin and in your gut and tethering the beating muscles in your chests.

“i—have wanted you—” his words are choked, impending orgasm a breath away, “—for so fucking long. i fucking—i love you. i’m so fucking in love with you.” his confession comes as he does, searing heat from his release coating your insides and splashing through the depths of your cunt. your foreheads are pressed together as you gasp and whisper against his lips, jeans hips fucking his load into you as he helps you chase your own high.

“i love you. always have.” it’s a little slurred, a little breathy. but when jean feels your pussy squeezing him in a vice, slick sounds of arousal bouncing off of the dark walls of the closet, he doesn’t think it could be any more fucking perfect.

reiner has his tongue shoved down bertls throat when you both emerge, blinking at the harsh light. the group doesn’t even give you a second look, at first. when reiner pulls back, leaving the brunet with pink cheeks and wide eyes, jean is the one to clear his throat and direct their attention to your disheveled figures.

“we’re, uh, we’re gonna head out.”

your hands are intertwined. which isn’t a foreign feeling at all, though his cum dripping down your thighs is certainly new.

“no fucking way.” connie seems to have sobered up exponentially, eyeing your mess of hickeys, wrinkled clothes and jeans wild hair.

“i’ll be damned.” erens smirking with his brows raised as you manoeuvre the little crowd and head for the door. throwing a quick wave over your shoulder, you flash a sheepish smile to your friends, stumbling out a goodbye as jean tugs you out the door.

“uh, happy halloween guys!”

as soon as the door slams jeans pulling you in for a kiss. his lips are quickly becoming your favourite thing so you are not complaining, looping your arms round his waist to pull him further into your orbit.

“so.” you muse, “what’re we now? like.. fuck buddies?” you joke.

jean thinks on it, dramatically squinting his eyes and humming in thought. “i’d prefer the term smash bros.”

the look of disgust that colours your face as you shove him away and head down the street has laughter bubbling in his chest and his hands pulling you flush against his chest.

“you’re so stupid.” you pout, barely masking your adorable smile. “can’t believe i slept with you. can’t believe im in love with you.” you’re teasing him, taking his lips for yourself and giggling against him. but if he’s being completely honest with himself, jean can’t fucking believe it either.

#: @luvkun4 @sheluvzeren @oxygenstarrved @wh0reforlevi

#jean x reader #jean x reader smut #jean x black reader #jean smut #jean kirstein x reader smut #jean kirstein smut #jean kirstein x reader #aot x black reader #aot x reader smut #aot x reader #aot smut #aot x you #aot x y/n #iyrtycsm collab #jean x you #jean x y/n

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koushuwu · 2 years

Text

» watch me — jean kirstein x reader *:･ﾟ✧

18+ content | 1,309 words | cw: afab!reader, sex toys, pet names (specifically “baby”), exhibitionism, voyeurism, oral sex f!recieving, dry humping, character cums in pants. | coaxing Jean into watching you wasn’t the hardest feat, but not being able to taste you was like torture to him.

“When you come home, I want you to watch me.”

Every single cohesive thought escaped his brain like dew in the morning sun. Just completely evaporated as his balls clenched and his cock twitched in his grasp. He almost dropped the phone, but managed to keep it up by his ear.

“What?” he croaked.

“I want you. To watch me,” you repeated. Your own words hazed by your own pleasure. For a moment he had to seize all movement so he wouldn’t cum right then and there. “Like this. But together.” With all gullible responses stolen straight out of his lungs, he frantically searched for some way of expressing himself, as his climax rapidly approached.

“Okay,” he agreed. Pathetic if you asked him later, but at that moment, no other words would form in his throat.

Now, Jean had arrived home from his travels, an early saturday morning, and what he found when he came home, was undeniably the most breathtaking sight he’s ever laid eyes upon. There you were. The love of his life, leaned back on the bed, completely bare and a dark look in your eyes. Time seemed to slow around him as he took you in. Your legs were spread wide, and beside you lay the toys he’d bought for you before he left.

“Jean,” His name on your lips sounded so sweet, but it sounded so far in his trance like observation of the sight unfolding before him. Not only were a variation of toys scattered on the bed. Oh no. One toy, a baby pink rabbit vibrator, was in your hand. Was inside you, pushed deep in between your walls, and teasing your aching clit. “Jean,” you moaned his name, and this time your voice snapped him out of his trance. His bag dropped to the floor and– “Stop.” The one word uttered by you, had him nailed to the spot, just as he’d taken his first step towards you.

“What?” Jean’s voice cracked and he had to swallow hard before he could continue. “What do you mean?” His eyes were glued to your figure, and your hand had stilled on the vibrator. For a moment it was quiet around you, save for the whirring of the toy in your hand. In your pussy. You had wanted to wait for him to come home before starting. You really had meant to, but as you’d laid out the toys and stripped down, teased yourself to make sure you were ready as soon as he’d arrived, you found yourself excited. Of course you’d be excited but you found yourself spurred on by the thought of what was to come, that you’d found yourself unable to stop yourself from going just a little further. And that’s when Jean had arrived home.

“Watch,” you urged, breathlessly. “You said you would,” you reminded. Jean’s jaw slacked as he stared at you, unblinking. It wasn’t that he didn’t fathom your words or remember what you were talking about. But he hadn’t expected you to hold him to it so soon. Or maybe he hadn’t actually thought you’d meant it when you said it, but oh was he wrong.

“What? Now?” he asked, clearly in disbelief. Sucking your lower lip between your teeth and biting down, you nodded in response. The way his gaze followed your every movement as you slowly began to pull out of your cunt as if mesmerized was thrilling. Intoxicating even.

“Come on, baby, please!”

Jean’s arms hung loosely down his sides as he watched you shake your head at him. You angled the vibrator and pushed back inside and mewled.

“Baby—“ Jean’s hands balled at his sides. His jaw all but hitting the floor and he just wanted to touch you. To taste you. So so bad. “This is torture, look at you. Shit, I just want to taste. Just a little taste. Please.” The vibrator whirred as Jean practically begged and you felt powerful. In control. Your eyes locked and even looking into his eyes, you could make out the strain against his pants out the corner of your eye.

Watching the toy thrusting into your sloppy cunt really was torture to Jean. He really tried his hardest to keep a level head for you, but his mind was spinning. His mouth watered and the very air around him seemed to be strumming. Quaking. Reverberating along to the sweet tune of the very toy responsible for his agony. He really did try though, despite his aching cock and the continuous pleas falling from his lips as you whined and writhed before his eyes.

He watched you. He ached for you. He craved for you and when you finally nodded in response to his pleas, Jean’s entire body moved entirely on its own accord. His knees dipped into the mattress and his hand curled around yours as he claimed your lips with his own in a hungry, almost starved kiss. Tongues tangled, saliva mixing and hot breaths’ shared before he broke away, hungry for everything that you could give.

Jean stared at you intently and pulled the toy from your drooling pussy. Your body felt like it was already burning, but when his eyes bore into yours as he switched it off and brought the toy to his lips, all that the heat in your body rose erratically. And when his tongue pressed flat against the slick surface you shuddered, pussy clenching around nothing. Aching. Jean groaned low in his throat when the taste of you finally danced on his taste buds. Under his excruciating gaze, you tried closing your legs, but in an instant Jean dropped the toy, taking hold of your knees instead, keeping you from hiding. There was hunger in his eyes and he needed you. He needed you bad, and he needed you now.

It didn’t take Jean long, nor did it take him much effort to move you up the bed until he could lie between your legs. With his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, he spread you open and dove in with no regret. Another deep guttural sound tore from Jean as his tongue finally met with the source of his deepest pleasures. You knew Jean, and you knew about his desire for the juices he now so eagerly drank from your lap. Yet, it sometimes surprised you just how much he seemed to enjoy it. But he did enjoy it. In fact, Jean relished in finally being allowed to taste you and bring you the pleasure he so desperately wanted you to feel. And you did. Jean was skilled. Eager, excited, but skilled. He instinctively slurped, licked, kissed, flicked and lapped at your pussy in such perfect sync with the song your body sang to him. You couldn’t hear it, but he could and it was a blissful symphony that he joined with his own lewd sounds.

Sounds that grew deeper as his hips bucked, rutting his cock against the mattress underneath him. The mattress, already giving way, ever so slightly under your writhing form. Writhing from the pleasure he gave you. The pleasure you gave him. The friction caused when he bucked into bed was good. Oh so good. Even better with your taste on his tongue and your sounds in his ears. And so he thrust his hips forward again. And again. The pleasure in his mouth and the pleasure pressing and sliding against his cock sent his head spinning. It pushed him steadily towards the edge. Rapidly as he pushed you towards it as well. Pushing. Pushing until you both reached it. Pushing until you both tumbled over it. You cumming on his tongue, just as he’d wanted, and him spilling in the confinement of his pants. Pushing. Even then, Jean could not get enough. He could never get enough of you.

#» spicy #ficlet #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein #jean x reader #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirstein smut #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader smut #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x reader smut #snk smut #snk x reader #snk x reader smut #i forget what and how to tag my writing my apologies #not the cw tags but these tags down here #idk what i'm doing #useradrienne

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firefly--bright · 23 days

Text

come january. (2)

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern au. part two of this fic.

summary ; to love someone is to know someone, fully, wholly, and jean fulfills this, wholly, knowingly.

warnings ; badly written smut, MDNI. ive never written smut before so its probably going to be bad. please tread carefully. literally the most vanilla sex u can ever imagine. too wordy.

a/n ; as said before ive never done this before and i really dont think writing smut is my forte with my writing style? but. i've had ideas and i just wanted to explore the idea of writing it. as practice. or wtv. so if you dont like it pls feel free to not interact at all OR leave a constructive criticism in my askbox/messages.

taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable

again, MDNI. any and all minors who interact with this post will be blocked! this is a direct part two of this post, so reading it within context would be better :D

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿

middle tile art creda to @yuka-levi on twt!

Everything happens. Universes are created, ended, made again. Strings – thick, usually unbreaking and strong, snap apart when his lips are on yours and you lose everything you ever thought you might had in him. And it belongs there, you think, because it feels right.

You pull apart, breaths heavy, hearts lighter, burrowed in each other's chests so deeply that it would take a skilled surgeon to replace them again. Your smile is still present on your face, gentle, whole, and your smile makes him smile even if his eyes are closed. There's a distance pop followed by a big bright flash of beautiful golden and you open your eyes, turning to the source. Fireworks. Another one, farther away, flashes out in all its glory, looking like the birth of a star. Jean’s head rests on your shoulder, his hands cupping your cheek, not taking his eyes away from you, watching the light dance on your features, lighting the tip of your nose and side of your cheek, kissing the corner where your ear meets your jaw because he finally can. Because he wants to, because he finds himself present there, with you and against you.

You inhale as his kisses spread further down your neck, your heart beating with the numerous fireworks in the sky only for you to realise that the new year was here and he was by your side, on your side just as he was supposed to be. You turned and his kisses trailed to the apple of your cheeks, to where your smile met your eyes.

“jean.” You said, your voice overlapping the boom of the firework, and jean hummed, his lips resting on your forehead, unmoving and you could feel his own soft smile on your skin. His hands cup your jaw, and yours lay on his cheek, guiding his eyes to meet yours again.

“happy new year.” You say, and he swallows the sound of your voice, proving your existence to be heard and seen. “happy new year.” He echoes, proving his own life, breathing it into you. “I love you.” your smile turns softer. You echo back, “I love you too, jean.” You thumb rests on his cheek, his eyes fluttering close, brows furrowing slightly, his breath on yours, and he thinks about how his name has always been yours to say, thinking briefly about changing his name so that no one but you could say it, utter himself into his being.

But he doesn’t because you’ll have him as he is, and his lips are on yours again because he wants to taste how it feels like to be. You lean back with the force of his lips, humming shortly into him, goosebumps covering your skin as his hand grazes over your thigh, keeping you in your reality, locking you into a promise, into a routine that he wouldn’t change. You loose focus, his eyelashes feel nice against yours, his hands feel warm on you, his hair feels so soft under your hands and he feels twice more real than anything ever has and ever could. He kisses you with soft force, wanting you to know that you still have choice, but knowing you’d choose him. Over and over again.

His tongue mingles with yours, no hesitance behind his teeth, nothing that could make him reluctant. Second nature. Muscle memory. You allow him just the same, a small noise escaping your throat not in disagreement but with just the opposite. His hand leaves your thigh to support you as you lean further back, unable to hold yourself up for longer. You pull back, his lips still following your every move.

“we should- we...inside?” you ask, loosing coherence, but jean catches the meaning you throw away so easily. He nods against yours, and you feel your noses bump.

climbing down is muscle memory. Second nature. Routine, whatever you want to call it, but the moonlight at hushed words that were exchanged made it become more of a shrine of itself that it really was. Like always, like all the times before this one where you were less hidden but also less seen, jean helps you down. you climb with your feelings in your throat, your love spilling everywhere you'd touch, which makes you grab his hand with even more fervor as he helps you down, slipping in the room from the ledge.

Sitting on the edge of the bed of the spare guest room, you catch your breath. Jean stands near the window, supporting himself on it after closing it, trying keeping his own breath controlled, enjoying the view. He cant stop the smile that seems to now find his home on his lips without care. He’d get your lips tattooed on the inside of his ribs if he, carve your name that was always meant to be his into his bones so in the future, after being buried next to you, they’d be in a museum for people to connect the dots themselves.

Seconds pass. They feel like hours, and he leaves his spot on the window, kneeling infront of you, placing one hand beside you and one on your knee, travelling up slowly, finding god in the way your expression shifted so easily and openly infront of him, your breath hitching, leaning down to capture his lips again. Its different this time, if only a little, because the gentle warmth had progressed into a proper temperature, you think, as you rest your hand on the junction between his neck and his shoulder, your other one drawing soft shapes into his back despite the weight of the kiss. His tongue was on yours again, stealing all the words you thought you could speak but giving them their home anyway. Gasping as he pulled away, all control is left to be picked up by the wind as he leans over you, pressing himself onto you, your back hitting the soft mattress gently, his lips touching every part of you that was exposed, kissing the lines of your collarbones, every vein and muscle that was hidden, ashamed under your skin igniting with colours that you didn’t know existed. “jean,”

He hummed on your skin again, his voice cracking. He supported his weight on his arm that held itself next to your head, his eyes closed into you, feeling your own hands everywhere on himself, warmth spreading across his body. His hand lifts your leg up, his hand moving upward, feeling the rest of your body, the parts you hadn’t shown.

“jean, wait-“ you say. He pulls apart instantly, concern clouding his features as he peers at you, his lips still close to yours. speaking takes a lot of control, something you try to seize after everything he’s done to make you forget it exists, “the door.” You mutter, your hand on his jaw. He pauses, glancing at the lock that was left open before, and nods reluctantly. He doesn’t want to let go, and you agree, and you’re sure he knows it because your hand is still in his hair as he gets up. You do, too, opting to use the time to pull the zipper of your dress down.

If this was someone else – not that you’d want it to be – you’d have preferred to be more lost in the moment, but this was jean. Your jean, where every moment spent with him was spent lost within it. So you’d take your time because you had it. He wasn’t going anywhere – this was routine. Second nature, and jean turned back around from locking the door, breathing in to calm himself down again despite knowing that his breath was going to quicken, and it did. Or maybe he just lost all of it. All his thoughts stilled, only one ringing out in his ears along with his fastening heartrate, his cheeks red.

You're beautiful. With your clothes now pulled away, leaving you with your undergarments and the dim but present light shrouding your figure, lighting your hair, a small smile playing on your face.

You're beautiful. not that you weren't before but this - closest to divinity, closest to himself. Matching your state, jean decides to join you by removing his vest and the shirt that was underneath all in one swipe, while still taking long strides towards where you sat. his lips found yours as if they had never left, resuming your positions. Your hands find themselves undoing his belt as he presses kisses – soft, beautiful, full of words he couldn’t spell out – unclasping the hook of your bra with one hand, his own hands going down your back, tracing your spine that arched slightly, covered in goosebumps. Not because of the cold but because of how warm his touch was, because you were sure no-one had come close to the amount of softness that he held towards you. his lips were the complete opposite, his kisses fleeting but solid, sloppy but definite, sure of himself, of the fact that he wanted this – you. just you. everything with you.

He pulls away again and you suppress a whine, but he doesn’t go far – just enough to remove his trousers comfortably, throwing them somewhere on the floor along with the rest of his belongings. He doesn’t need them anymore because he has you and he belongs here, with you, more than he belongs with anything else he attaches himself with. Your pupils are blown wide and he sees the admiration in them, smirking when he catches you looking at him, your eyes going over every part of him without so much as an ounce of shame, unabashedly, maybe even a little proud.

He looks like god. His chest, well built moves up and down rapidly, his forearms outlining his veins, the slant of his chest that connected to his shoulders looked the closest to belonging you had ever felt. You shuddered as your eyes went even further down, taking in the contour of his dick, the fabric pulled taught, snapping your eyes to his again. And there lay your favorite view, even after seeing almost everything he had offered with simple actions and simpler existence, his eyes were always your favorite part – lit up but gauging your reaction, glazed over with everything he wanted.

“like what you see, beautiful?” he asks, leaning forward again, hovering over you with the same smile. your knees locked against either side of his waist, and you pull him in by the back of his neck to shut him up. “need what I see.” you whispered, your lips spelling it out on his own. He lifted your thigh, giving in.

his hands are everywhere. They're all your know, you're sure your skin could remember every callus and scar on them because of it. One settles on your hip, finally, the other still taking its time roaming on you, claiming its place near your upper thigh. His thumb his feather light, shadowy, whispering against the hem of your underwear, making you gasp. There's a spark in you that threatens to grow into something more, and you don’t know where to put your own hands. One circles his neck, playing with the ends of his hair – something that makes him stutter his movements. Your other hand, however, has plans of its own, carrying itself over to the waistband of his trunks, sliding further down, grazing the outline you had studied before. He grunts next to your ear. He licks his lips, his voice husky when he whispers into your ear, “god, you’re so beautiful.”

Not giving you a chance to reply if you even had one ready, he melts you into putty, his warm lips circling your nipple. Your strings are fraying, and his hand that had been resting on your hips is on your waist now, and you feel your voice calling out to him, pleading.

The spark grows, a knot forming in your core, “want- please, jean-“

“im yours, love.” He rasps, his tongue swirling around, making you gasp. You cupped your hand where it was, his size making another round of shivers run down your spine, his whimper on your breast, your skin soaking every sound as if it would save you from further decomposition, pulling the hem of his underwear down, feeling the size of his cock against you now. The spark evolves itself into something greater and you moan, his hand pushing your underwear aside. Whatever the spark was is now long gone, increasing its size into a fire, consuming your body, making your skin feel hot. He calls out your name, strained, gentle.

Your heart beating was probably the only proof of you being in this moment; the rest of your being had been fully consumed by jean, his lips sucking your neck, feeling your pulse in his mouth, trying with all his might to not give you everything he had, even if he was sure you already had it, drawn out and in front of him. He pulled you closer to him, your thighs hooked around his waist so you could feel him, and he could feel you, ready and wanting and waiting, your whimpers reaching his ears, settling in his chest, making him move, his muscles rippling with effort, all of which you could feel under your trembling fingers, gripping his shoulders with force as he pushed himself into you, filling you completely, slowly, wholly.

Everything opened. Sounds felt a little like they were underwater, and it took you a while to accommodate him, his hips grazing yours, and he was saying something. You exhaled shakily and everything closed again, and you could hear him clearly now, his voice the only thing that could guide you.

“feels..so good, sweetheart-“ he says, his tone being something you hadn’t heard from him before. you like it, enjoy it more than the moment youre caught up against. His voice slinks against your body, deep and uncontrolled because it was with you and for you, his lips nest to the cup of your ear making sure you could feel each syllable at its peaks and lows. “tu es fait pour moi, mon amour.” He rasps. You don’t know what he means, but you can feel it with the way his hands circle your clit. It feels like he’s worshipping you – every part of you being looked at gently, just as you were supposed to, and he feels like prayer to you because his name is the only thing you know how to speak. You repeat it with your eyes fluttering closed, feeling the fire turning, meeting something new.

Your mouth only sings of him. Its muscle memory as he pushes inside you again, guiding your thigh delicately and you want to burrow yourself into him, let him sink into you like he’s doing for the rest of how much ever youre allowed to have. The flame heats you up from the inside, spreading across every part of your body once again and if you’ve felt like this before, this overtakes. You don’t know what to call it – feelings and words other than the moment feel far away and untouched.

you hardly have the time to ask him what it means, lost in the way he feels. Spark. Flame? Youre not sure what it is, hardly sure of what you are either, he’s pushing in you now, grunting softly beside your ear, and whatever that was is growing now, fast. “god, love-“ “jean,” the two of you say at the same time, his voice sending shivers down your warm spine, everything is spinning. This feeling isn’t routine, isn’t something you’ve ever felt before but you welcome it as if it was a part of your own body. He pushes in again, everything builds up and crumbles at the same time. Thoughts are broken, sentences are just strings of words and he fills you, fully. Again. Tightening, beauty that comes close to discomfort only if it weren’t with him. It feels right.

he says your name breathily, his voice strained like he’s been thinking about saying it for a longer time than this. “I’m g’nna.. oh,” he says, and his voice is the only thing that you can hold onto beside himself, your hand gripping his hair while the other one roamed in the limited space between his shoulder and toned arms, nails scratch, and scratching his skin just enough to leave light, red marks, that matched the blush on his cheeks. “can i- sh…uh,” he says, making you blink him into focus, a tear rolling down your cheek. Your heart squeezes when his face becomes clearer, his brows knit tight. “I’m sorry,” he says, barely a whisper, only the proof of one. You shake your head gently, your hand freeing itself from his hair and resting on his cheek, thumbing the tear away. “jean… it’s okay, love.” “im, I just… never felt this before?” he explains, or tries to at least, grasping onto the only meaning he could find – you. his hand clasping your thigh. His hand near your head, strands of your hair under his thumb. He breathes, ribs turning putty, heart molding itself around your hand, creating a cast. That’s where it belongs, he thinks. “I know. I haven’t either.” You confirm. Theres two of you now, worlds apart from where everyone else would be, and he looks at you, your eyes holding that sheen on them, cheeks stretched with a small smile and thinks about how unbroken the moment was. No space between your bodies, comfortable unpredictability. His bones hum with familiarity, being this close to you - sending something close to electricity but far more close to divinity into his heart. He nods, kissing the corner of your mouth. Then your jaw. Then your forehead.

“don’t hold back.” You tell him, unafraid. He nods, heart spurring.

Warmth, heat, spreading across your body and he goes a little faster, and you feel him everywhere, deeply, and your noises are only controlled by the barrier of your lips being bit by your teeth, something jean impossible notices, oulling your chin gently by his thumb. “don’t hold back on me either,” he’s so close to you.

So close. Your grip on his shoulder tightens, leaving a mark, his name leaving your mouth, freeing itself from wherever it was within you as if it was a part of you. he says your name just the same, his voice carrying out in the confines of the room, striking a chord only you can hear, only meant for you to understand. Your name has never felt like yours until he’s said it, like this, your back lifting, stomach touching his, and you feel the world collapsing, building. Flame turned into fire turned into smoke, your body shaking, sounds coming from your mouth merging with his and it stays there, unbroken, devouring, overwhelming. He’s out of you in what feeling like an instant but youre sure is slow, caring but time doesn’t make sense to you. the sheets under your legs are soaked, your muscles aching comfortably, unpredictably.

Your chest heaves, up and down, as does his, almost in sync. His strength sways as his body almost collapses onto yours, devouring, overwhelming, the scent of his rundown cologne and sweat and shampoo mixing into yours. devouring, overwhelming.

His lips are on your collarbone. You laugh with the little strength you have and jean drinks it up, a smile etching itself on his pink lips, his skin red. “we should.. do that more often.” You say. Your eyes closed, hand in his hair and he hums, nodding his head slightly, something you feel.

and this continues, becoming more than just a moment in your life, increasing itself into something that becomes your being. His knee bent, getting comfortable, and your thigh rests on his own, feeling his muscles underneath yours, skin to skin. It feels akin to holiness, but gods don’t have skin like you and jean. That’s their curse, you think, because you’d want to be human just to feel something like this again, no space between the two of you, legs entangled, warm, devouring, overwhelming, comfortable. If this was a new routine, you’d appreciate it for all the times to come.

His hand is pinned under your back and he lifts his head from your shoulder, resting It near your head, hair escaping and spilling next to yours. all of your parts meeting his. His eyes look at yours and you want to consume the look in them, something you wish was possible, but then he speaks and you think it is possible because his tone is the same as the way he looks at you – soft. Warm. Shining. “this may be the post nut clarity talking, but you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything that was right in front of me.”

Oh. Okay. He's saying what he wants to say, out of control, chest beating unexpectedly in control. A confession like this, under normal circumstances, would’ve been around in his head for about a week before actually having the bravery to speak it into existence, make it known. But with the prior fact already known – because it was you, of course you’d know – it was easy to say, and with that logic, everything became easy with you. not untethered but the exact opposite, everything was easy because it was connected and all of everything lead to you. always did. You breathe out shakily.

You kiss the crease between his brows, soothing it permanently, easing his features. You’ve never been good with words. When morning (or better yet, judging by how everything played out right now and how late it was, late afternoon) rolled around, jean was sure to have either a bouquet of flowers or an inexpensive gift with a full-fledged letter sitting on his desk, waiting for him in compensation. Either the letter or a text, you weren’t sure, the plan formulating in your head ass he breathed beside you, his breath fanning the side of your face.

you turn your face to his, opening your eyes again, looking into his. “if I told all of this to last year-me, I would’ve never believed it,”

He smirks. “cant believe you bagged the jean kirstein?” you scoff. “I hated your guts, I would’ve thrown up and asked myself what present-me was even thinking getting with that jean guy.” “oh,” he says, softly, his smirk slipping off his face comically. You laugh a little, shifting to your side to rest comfortably. His body shifts with yours, his hand now on the slight dip of your waist, thumb brushing your stomach.

“but present-me would tell her that I think… youre the most passionate and brave person I’ve ever met. And you make me laugh.” “its no that hard, y’know-“ “just take the compliment.” “yes ma’am.” He says, smiling drowsily, blinking slowly. You could capture his mouth in a kiss right now but you preferred to have it in front of your eyes instead of your lips. For now, of course. The promise of being able to see the same face with the same smile would mean you could kiss his lips and feel his mouth all over again, hundreds of times, like a beautiful predictability. Routine. He clears his throat. “thank you.” he says. You hum, gently, jean feels the vibrations of your voice against the thrum of his heart. He keeps it there.

“what… what else would you tell your past-self about… about that jean guy?” he asks, mainly to hear your voice again, under the guise of forgetting it every time you don’t speak, but really, its because he needs your voice to build the rope that he balances on. His hand reaches your cheek, feeling your words fully. You hum under his touch, thinking. “id tell her that… that jean guy is fucking annoying-“ “name one time ive annoyed you-“ “and pretentious.” “I have never once-“ “d’you remember when we went to that art gallery and you said that you 'loved how the elements juxtaposed each other'?” “…yeah.” “I thought you were just trying to sound smart.” “…I was.” You giggle at his admission. His ears tinge red, unseen because of the dark but not unknown because youre here.

“but I’d tell past-me that that same jean guy also held me when I needed it without asking. Made me laugh when I needed it without asking.” Theres a beat of silence. Jean breathes in, consuming your entirety, and youre okay with it. “that… this jean guy thought that past-me hated him because he was a dick.”

“yeah, I did,” he breathes out a laugh, continuing, “but then he – I – grew used to you. grew to like you. grew because and with you. and now present-me knows that present-you is resilient and patient and stubborn enough to stick with me.” “yeah, I should get an award for that.” “yeah, yeah, I’ll get you one.” He says, pulling you in closer with his arms, burrowing your face in his neck.

The moment would be unbroken. Even if the two of you had gotten up, reluctantly, after a while, under the bursting of fireworks, jean cleaned you up and helped you slip into your clothes again, fixing your appearance best you could. The moment remained unbroken as he held your hand, kissing your knuckles when you reached downstairs, catching sasha dancing with nicolo, connie on the table, marco trying to pry him down but not really wanting it to end, eren hyping him up. mikasa was somewhere behind him, with a small smile on her face as she glanced at you and jean’s interlocked fingers. The moment went unbroken even after the night ended, everyone hungover and piled on the floor of you and sasha’s shared living room even though the latter wasn’t even in her own home (she later texted you, extensively, about what happened with her and nicolo), and jean woke up with a one page (front and back. You tried to keep it under the set word limit in your head but couldn’t) letter and a singular flower (you couldn’t afford to splurge until after your paycheck arrived). The moment remained unbroken even ass connie groaned about his hurting head and jean made fun of him for the same fact, marco glancing between the space – or lack of it – between the two of you as jean stood with an arm around your waist (something he later revealed he was panicking about in, his own words, “I didn’t even think much of it, I just sorta, did it, y’know,” but his eyes wouldn’t look directly at yours and the tips of his ears were red, a telltale lie).

The moment remained unbroken. It always would. Details kept safe, sound, intact, even while you retold it to your closest friends after only some pestering. Even after jean mulled over it on the most important day of his life, playing with his ring, adjusting his suit.

The moment, all the words and anatomy of it, remained unbroken. Beautiful. Holy.

✿

< previous

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein x reader #aot #jean kirstein x you #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #jean kirschtein #smut #jean x reader smut #jean kirstein x reader smut #jean kirschtein x reader smut #marco bodt #connie springer #sasha braus #mikasa ackerman #eren yeager #armin arlert #modern au

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thesevro · 2 years

Text

pass him to the homie; connie springer & jean kirstein [mature]

connie springer x trans male reader x jean kirstein 2.7k words

mentioned hcs: trans male armin arlert survey corps captain! jean kirstein section commander! reader

cw: explicit smut; pwp; threesome; jealousy; penetration (p in v sex); mentions of fingering, oral sex; edging; jean is a virgin; swearing

connie is an ass here and i've been craving that

—

His body is warm against you. You pull the sheets closer, hugging Connie to you.

“I mean, he’s a virgin, so I do kinda feel bad for him,” Connie says, pointing out this or that fact for his own sake. “And you’ve been going on and on about getting fucked like you’re the Survey Corps’ local whore—”

“That is exactly not what I’ve been saying,” you answer. “I think. I just like thinking about getting passed around. I don’t think of anybody in the Survey Corps. I only think about what it might be like to have two dicks inside me, maybe one in my mouth.” Or Armin’s pussy on your face.

“That’s the same thing as being the whore of our Regiment.”

“Shut up.” You press a kiss to Connie’s jaw. “You’re my only boy, you know that.”

“But you like being called that.” Connie grins. Slips out of your hold to situate himself in his rightful position on top of you. “Don’t you?”

“So you’ll let me be one?”

Connie eyes you, distrustful. If you ask to fuck Commander Hanji he’ll throw both you and him out the window at the thoughts that sort of scenario would put in his head.

“Come on, Connie,” you urge playfully, tracing his jaw with a callused finger. “Even you said you feel bad for the poor virgin.”

“Sure I do. So.” He gives your finger a teasing nip. “Call him over.”

You pause. Look up at Connie. “What?”

“Bring him in here. Let me show the virgin how to fuck.”

—

“Come on, Jean.” Connie pulls your legs open wider with his hands on your thighs. You whimper and tell him to please, put it back inside, grabbing at the hand that has left your throat. “Yeah, baby, I know. I know. Shh.” His fingers leave your thigh to slip into your wet, puffy slit, thrusting in and out at a slow, temperate pace. Connie makes sure Jean sees the way his fingers come out covered in a ring of creamy fluid. Yours, and his, after he fucked you to near-orgasm maybe twice, or thrice. “I’m trying to do my boy a favor, Jean. He wants to know what it’s like to be used.”

“And you’re” —Jean swallows as you plead with Connie again, but the other man shushes you quickly, whispering that you might lose the chance to get what you want— “You’re too nice for that, eh? While I’m not?”

“Who knows, Jean?” Connie answers. His fingers slide out of your hole to pat your thigh. Presenting you to Jean. “Why don’t you show us?”

Connie hears the desperation in your voice as you raise your own argument, pleading with Jean now. “Jean, please—please please please please, I need it. C’mon. Connie’s always so mean. Won’t you be good to me? ‘M your best friend.”

“Yeah, he’s your best friend, Jean. Won’t you help him out?” Connie grins. “If you don’t, I swear I’m going to kick your ass outta here and fuck him so good the idea of what you could’ve been doin’ is burned into your brain while he’s screaming my name.”

“Shit, (Name),” Jean laughs. “You’re right. You’re pretty fucking mean, Connie.”

“I’ll be a lot more than mean if you don’t fuckin’ hurry up. You’re leaving us hanging when I could be fuckin' a pair o’ twins into my boy right now.”

“Fuck off,” Jean mutters as he pulls his zipper down and drags his pants off his legs in jerking, hasty movements. He looks up at you and Connie. Connie smirks with pride as his friend’s eyes trace the curved outline of his cock. With you spread out before Jean, your back to Connie’s chest and your sweet boy-pussy bare to the world, he wonders how in the world Jean is able to hesitate, to give you a maybe instead of the yes you deserve. But the good vibes fade fast as the other man opens his mouth to ask a stupid question,

“Do I take my boxers off or—”

“Just get over here you virgin!” you complain, cock-drunk symptoms fading with every second you don’t have something inside you. Connie pinches your clit and you gasp. Shake a little bit in his hold.

“Be nice. Or you aren’t getting anything from either of us tonight.”

Jean has his button-up halfway off. He'd taken his underwear off with an ungraceful, hurried flourish the moment you spoke. His cock struggles against his foreskin. It bounces as he approaches you.

“Get on the bed,” Connie tells him. He has three fingers all the way inside you to keep you stretched out for Jean.

Jean grimaces, ruffled at being ordered around, but joins you on the bed. He sits there. Clueless.

“Ymir’s shit, were you not paying attention earlier?” Connie says, uncharacteristically paying no mind to your soft moans as he curls his fingers in and out of you. “Use your head, Captain Jean!”

“Um.” What a dumb way to start. Connie lets him gather his thoughts anyhow. “(Name), you’re alright with… having sex with me?”

“Tightened up just now, baby,” Connie observes, looking down at your face. His cock remains pressed against your ass, still leaking. He can’t wait to fuck Jean’s cum into you. “You want Jean to fuck you, (Name)?”

“Yes,” you sigh. “Yes, Jean—Captain, please. I want you inside me, Captain.”

Jean’s jaw goes tight. Connie does end up laughing a little bit this time. “Looks like he liked that, (Name). Well, you heard him, Captain. Let’s see how well you ride.”

Jean meets Connie’s eyes. The challenge in his voice is clear. Jean swallows again, then pulls the foreskin back to bare his cock. A breath goes out of Connie at the sight. You moan loudly, watching Jean fondle his cock, thinking of having it inside you instead of Connie’s fingers.

Jean looks pleased with your reaction. Connie almost rolls his eyes but pulls his fingers out of your pussy as Jean moves closer. His hips meet your thighs. Jean bites his lip, teeth leaving marks in his bottom lip. The swollen flower of your pussy bare before him gets his breathing fast and uneven.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Captain.” You let go of Connie’s hand. Wrap a strong hand around Jean’s hip to pull him close. His cock ends up grinding against your pussy, sliding all the way up, rough and ridged against your juices. “I need you.”

Jean wraps a hand around the base of his cock. Pulls his hips back, shivering with sensation as you bring your hand down over his ass down to the back of his right thigh. The head of his cock kisses your slit. He looks up and shares your intent, watchful gaze. He keeps his eyes on yours as he fucks his cock into you with slow, minute thrusts of his hips, just like Connie told him to, and is rewarded by the sight of your expression, full and tight with pleasure as he fills you up.

“Give it to him harder, Jean.” Connie grabs onto the back of Jean’s other thigh and the man almost topples forward. “I prepped him well for us.”

Jean ends up all the way inside you within the span of a second as you and Connie pull him in close. His mouth opens. Chest heaves. Whatever you’re doing, you’re doing it on purpose. Should you be clenching around him so tight? Clinging to the base of his cock like an unrelenting fist of velvet? The first moan that leaves him is uncontrolled, unabashed. He doesn’t see the shiver that wraps around your body at the noises he’s making.

“You’re panting like a 30-year-old virgin,” Connie says. But Jean can tell that his friend’s focus isn’t really there. Connie has his eyes on the way Jean’s cock fucks you.

“Getting off on this, Connie?” Jean grunts out, thrusts picking up speed. But he keeps them deep, makes sure each time his cock slides inside you it kisses the part of you Connie had shown him with his fingers earlier. From the choked cries scratching at your throat, Jean knows he’s doing a great fucking job. He’s an attentive man, he can say with certainty, and with pleasure.

“Shut yer trap and savor this, Jean,” Connie says in a rough, hard voice. Jean feels and sees the way your pussy clenches and sucks his cock in deep. He wonders just how easy it is for Connie to get you off, if barking shit at someone already has you clenching up. “I’m not letting you do this again, so hurry up and fuck him good.”

“Connie—” you start in a choked voice.

Connie tenses, immediately at attention. “Slow down, Jean.” Jean senses the dangerous tone in Connie’s voice and stops mid-thrust, with his cock halfway inside you. “What d’you need, baby? Talk to me.”

You only grab at his hand, pawing at it until he lets go of your thigh, and shakily place it over your throat. On instinct, Connie squeezes, fingers wrapped around your neck in a V. Your Adam’s apple bobs.

Jean gives a loud groan. “Fuck, he’s getting tighter.”

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you know how to give him what he needs.” Connie presses a kiss to your cheek, grip loosening. “It’s alright (Name), I got you. Ask Jean to fuck you harder, baby. I know what you need.”

“Fuuuuck fuck fuck fuck he’s so fucking tight,” Jean says in a near-whimper. He wraps hands of steel around your thighs to steady himself.

“Y-you gonna cum already, Jean-boy?” you say. You grab his elbow and thrust your pelvis to his. His cock slips all the way back inside you. “Come on Jean. Come on come on come on, don't stop now.” You tug the man closer to you to whisper words in his ear, “I need your cum inside me.”

Connie blinks dumbly at your words. Jean gives a loud gasp, nearly thrown into an orgasm by your plea and the welcome clenching of your hole.

With his eyes shut tight, Jean starts moving again. He knows that if he speeds up even a little more he’ll be spraying all over your walls, but he wants to make you feel good. He wants to know what it feels like to have you cum on his cock. So he lets you cling to his bicep with a hand as he really starts to fuck you, his mouth opening around ragged moans with every thrust.

Your head falls back into Connie’s shoulder, moans coming out as high-pitched cries. Connie squeezes your throat, has you struggling for breath as your friend fucks you like a man possessed. Their actions have you writhing against Connie, barely in control of your body.

“Fuck, keep choking him Connie. He really fucking likes it.”

“Believe me, I know,” Connie says. “And would you stop saying ‘fuck’? Get a grip and do what he needs you to.”

Your body heaves and your grip begins to bruise Jean’s skin. Who would have thought that he’d ever get to top you? You, the nineteen-year-old Section Commander of the Survey Corps, who has led your soldiers to victory against even Marleyan Warriors. You, who nearly half a centurion of girls have professed their undying love for. It surprised him that Connie was the one who manhandled you in the relationship. That you bent to Connie so easily and with such fervency. That you’d beg for both him and Connie to fuck you like a whorish darling.

“Getting close, honey? Yeah, just a little more.” Connie rubs a hand over your stomach. His accent has his words thickening as he murmurs innuendo—promises—into your ear, “Let ol’ Jean-boy fill you up.”

Connie’s grip goes visibly white-knuckled around your neck. You struggle against him. Not because it’s too much, not because you don’t want it, but because you can’t help it with Jean balls-deep inside you and the fingers of Connie’s other hand cupping your clit.

Jean’s body curves inward. Curls to the right. His thrusts grow unsteady.

He stutters your name, “(Name)—(Name), oh fuck, fuck!”

And he loses it.

You wrap your legs around his body and drag him in close. Even with the entire lack of space Jean keeps plowing into you with harsh, uneven thrusts that go shallow and deep, at a breadth and width he can’t control. The man fucks his cum into you just like you asked him to while pushing through the pain of overstimulation as he feels your own orgasm approach. He needs your cum on his cock.

Connie’s voice descends into a ragged grunt. “Don’t let his cum go to waste (Name). Cum for him. Keep it all inside.”

Jean’s expression forms into a grimacing wince. His body begs for him to stop. But then you throw your head back and cry out his name.

That’s when the near-pain blooms to full-blown agony, juxtaposed with the glorious pleasure of having a boy like you cum around his cock.

“Jean, Jean!” All coherence leaves you after his name is thrown out of your mouth. It hurts to have you clench around his cock, but the thighs you have wrapped around his waist leave him no room for any other movement. Connie pants like he’s in heat while you cum. You have him enraptured by your blissed-out countenance.

“Just like that (Name),” Connie rumbles into your ear, words meant for only you to hear with the 70-decibel sounds you make. “Just like that. Good boy.”

You go limp against his body moments later, gasping roughly for breath. It hurts to breathe. The muscles in your throat are run through.

You feel Jean’s hands on you. One of his hands takes your cheek in his palm, and the other rubs a thumb lovingly into the outside of your thigh, just at your hip bone. His lips brush the corner of your mouth.

“Thank you, (Name).”

You soften in his hands, in Connie’s. With Jean’s cock still inside you, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, chaste and deep all at once. Jean pulls away after only a few moments. He can feel Connie’s eyes on him.

“You’re such a good friend, aren’t you Jean-boy?” Connie says as Jean moves back. His heart stops.

Oh shit.

But Connie only turns to you. “We’re never doing this again.”

You say nothing in answer. For a few breaths, only the exhausted pants forced out of your body fill the silence of the room. Your body creaks as you slip out of Connie’s arms, pushing Jean away.

“Fuck you guys,” you say. Jean scurries over to a corner of the bed on his hands and knees as you turn around to face Connie. “It’s my turn to show you both how to fuck.”

Your hands steady your body, pressing into the hard muscle of his abdomen. You sit just above the place where his cock stands at attention. Leaning forward, your hardened palms slide up the expanse of muscle of Connie’s body. Your hands find his face. One clutches the side of his neck to feel the pulse there. You smile gently at the nervous hummingbird rhythm of his heartbeat fluttering against your palm.

“It could never be anyone else, Connie,” you tell him, knowing how deeply the displeasure runs with you having shared a kiss with Jean. Your next words are like an afterthought, a secret you want only you and him to know, “God, if only you knew.”

“Show me.” Connie runs his hands over the muscles in your back. His grip is unforgiving. “Prove it to me. Show Jean how you fuck the man you love.”

“I think the proper term is ‘to make love to’—”

“See baby?” Connie sighs. “You got to shut him up for us.”

“Yeah.” A slick trail of fluids, this messy composition of Jean’s seed and your cum, wets the skin on Connie’s stomach as you rise up to your knees, pussy sliding against his abs. You scoop it up with two fingers to taste it. “Mm. Not as good as yours and mine, Con.”

“‘Course.” Connie grins. You see the sick idea form in his head. Something normal, by your shared standards. “Let’s have Jean taste ours once we’re done. Will you let him put his tongue in your pussy? Give him two minutes for it.”

A soft ‘oh’ sounds from the man behind you. “Couldja give me five?”

“Shh, both of you,” you say in a soft voice. They shut their mouths. Wait. “It’s my turn.”

Connie brings his arms behind his head, watching you take him inside you with a self-satisfied grin.

Your cum, mixed with Connie’s and Jean's, evokes a highly exquisite flavor.

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glitterycvm · 4 months

Text

"cmon baby one more..." he coos into your ear, nails still digging into the fleshy fat of your ass as he guides your hips up and down on his girthy cock. he was determined to get one more orgasm from you. he had to.

it felt like forever. you had been bouncing up and down on his shaft for what felt like ages. you couldn't even recall when it all had started. one orgasm to another, he simply couldn't get enough. he was addicted.

you felt that same knot in your stomach tighten again, this time it was much tighter and intense. the grip you had on his shoulders tightened, your nails engraving small crescents.

your boyfriend had noticed this, he swiftly grabs onto your waist, lifting you up and slamming himself into you at an cervix bruising pace. it was so quick you could barely could even process your own high approaching by second. then you felt it.

back arched, eyes rolled all the way back, jaw dropped, legs trembling. it was intense and heavenly. you've never felt anything so good in your life. it was so good that you didn't even notice the fluid you had squirted everywhere.

as you came back down from your high you realized your boyfriends thrusts had came to an abrupt end. "w-whyd you stop?" you ask, somewhat disappointed. but your boyfriend was looking into your eyes, a cheeky smirk plastered all over his face. "dirty girl- you squirted on me..." he panted out, slowly beginning to buck his hips into your cunt again.

you notice the tacky thin layer of liquid painted between your thighs and his lap. you let out a breathy sigh before your boyfriend whispers into your ear.

"y'think you could do that again for me pretty?"

gojo, geto, nanami, kirishima, hawks, denki, eren, jean + any of ur favs !!

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luverine · 3 months

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Virginity…

NSFW // MDNI

He doesn’t want to admit to you that he is inexperienced.

He swore he would never tell a soul that he’s never had sex with anybody.

But here he is sweating bullets. He's so nervous because you are rubbing your hand on his thigh with half lidded eyes.

He holds his breath trying to not cream his pants. He was doing good too until you straddle him going in for a kiss. You taste like vanilla.

Fuck he can’t do this…You begin to grind on him putting pressure right on his sensitive dick.

“Shit! I haven’t done this bef-“ He freezes letting out a deep guttural moan. As he releases his load inside of his jeans.

You coo and admire him as he’s twitching and panting. As he’s recovering from an orgasm you unintentionally gave him. You meet each other's eyes.

“Wanna know what pussy feels like?”

✦ SHIGARAKI, Dabi, BAKUGOU, Denki, Amajiki, SHINSO, Megumi, Cloud, JEAN, Armin, AKI ✦

✦ Likes, reblogs, comments appreciated

✦ credit for divider cafekitsune

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stxrrydreamss · 9 months

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“Did you hit?” “She’s so bad.” “Was it good?”

“No. She fell asleep in my arms knowing she’s safe from guys like you.”

Armin, Jean, Levi, Kirishima, Izuku, Bakugo, Hawks, Aizawa, Gojo, Geto, Itadori, Megumi, Choso, Nanami, Xavier, and Zayne.

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rumisgf · 7 months

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backshots with eren are absolutely lethal. like, just imagine.

your head is completely buried into the pillow. eren has your back arched real good for him, one hand on your back to keep it that way. you huff out a moan which each of his thrusts, your slick painting his cock and slowly dripping down your thighs as he’s working your third orgasm. you lean yourself forward in an attempt to give yourself mercy, only for him pull you back all the way on his dick. any time you raise a hand to push him back or brace yourself, he slams it back down and tightens his grip on you. it’s all so dirty.

“fuck ren- i can’t- fuckkk…”

“uh uh, stop running. take this dick.”

he takes a hand and slaps your ass, adding to his collection of red/dark purple marks he’s created. you can barely hold yourself up and as bad as you wanna tap out, he just feels so good.

“s-so good…’s too much.”

and he wouldn’t stop anyway, the lewd sounds of your cunt squelching with every thrust and the view of your ass moving back against him is sending him to heaven. not only that, he knows you love this almost as much as he does.

“throw that ass back. yeah, just like that. my good little girl.”

no matter how rough he was you did what you were told and you took him so well, you really are such a good girl for him. your ass was slamming against him as you took every inch of him, you slurring your words and moaning out for him like a prayer.

“s-so wet..y’ make me so wet..”

and oh, he knows. no matter how much you joke around or are too embarrassed to admit it, eren goes to sleep at night knowing no one could ever have you screaming like this, only he knows how to have you soaked in a matter of seconds.

#aot smut #cj’s silly thoughts #aot x black reader #aot #aot x reader #eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x black reader #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger #eren jeager #eren smut #mikasa ackerman #connie springer #jean kirstein #armin arlert

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erwinsmithsmissingleftarm · 11 months

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Mommy or daddy?

Includes: Levi, Erwin, Armin & Jean

Levi:

Daddy kink at 99% but still prefers the 1%. He is the dominant guy but likes to be surprised from time to times with more spiciness as you take the charge. However, he won't specifically ask you to be on top so you will be the one that will need to take the initiative.

Erwin:

Daddy at a full 100%. Have you seen this man? He is HUGE. There is no way he gives you the control in bed. You are his little girl and stay his little girl no matter what. He is rather gentle with you, only becoming more strict if you call him by his name instead of 'daddy'.

Armin:

Oh... sweetheart is 100% for mommy. He is his mama's boy, liking to be praised and crying when he is punished. He wants someone strong to tell him he's good enough and to control him. He tries to behave as much as possible, doing everything he can to please you.

Jean:

Both of them at 50%. He likes to switch, one day dominant, the other day submissive. It makes him less stressed knowing he can count on his mommy to take the lead but he also feels proud to control his princess. Unlike Levi, Jean is less embarrassed to tell you his needs.

#levi ackerman x reader smut #erwin smith x reader smut #armin arlert x reader smut #jean kirstein x reader smut #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman #erwin smith smut #erwin smith #armin arlert smut #armin arlert #jean kirstein smut #jean kirstein #aot #aot smut #smut headcanons #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot headcanons

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ohimsummer · 2 years

Text

.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ HEAVEN’S ANGEL ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

18+, minors dni

— content: jean x fem!reader, oral [m. receiving], throat fucking

— a/n: this is purely self indulgent ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

To Jean, you are perfect, his princess, a god-sent angel who, of everyone on the planet, was in love with him. He loved staring at that pretty, plump face, adorned with thick, smiling lips and spellbinding doe-eyes that made it impossible to deny you.

You ask Jean a simple question, though, in hindsight, it was more of a demand. “Let me suck your dick.” And before he can even respond, you’re latching onto his arm and dragging him away from his game, babbling false promises of making it quick and just wanting a small taste of him.

Jean let’s you basically throw him onto the bed, and you’re kneeled between his legs in seconds. His body goes tense when you feel him up, caressing his inner thighs and squirming impatiently as he pulls his rigid cock out of his pants. Your eyes trail over the girthy, throbbing length, salivating at the sight of it before casting an innocent look Jean’s way. You can feel that familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach, the feeling you get when Jean eyes you up and down and you can just tell he wants to fuck you into the mattress. Your skin begins to heat up at the very thought of it.

He wraps his hand around his cock, stroking it a few times before giving an instruction. ”Open wide, pretty girl.”

You obey him without question, mouth gaping and tongue hanging over your bottom lip. He presses the tip to your tongue, and a shiver runs through your body in anticipation. You eagerly lap at his pink tip, closing your lips around it and massaging it with your tongue before letting your mouth fall open again. Jean rubs himself over your flat tongue, leaking bitter precum onto your awaiting tastebuds as he teases himself towards the back of your throat. He finally gives in with a chuckle when you whine at him; your brows are furrowed and your jaw is starting to hurt, but you ignore the dull ache and be a good girl for Jean as you allow his cock to force its way down your throat. One of his hands is on the back of your head to sink you down on his dick, while the other ruffles its way through his hair. You moan at the feeling of his thick length easing down your throat, and tears prick the corner of your eyes as your nose touches the base of his crotch. Jean holds you there for a moment as he savors the feeling of you around him. He looks down, and Jean can feel his self-control slowly flying out the window when he sees you: lust-blown eyes wet and shiny as tears threaten to spill down your cheeks, and puffy, pink lips wrapped tight around his cock. His bottom lip slips between his teeth, and Jean slowly begins to raise your head up and down his length.

This goes on for a minute, and you love every bit of it. He occasionally lifts you away from his cock entirely, taking in your choked gasps and raspy breathes of air, before shoving you back down to the hilt. Your fingers knead at his balls, and the sensation has him grunting as the grip on your hair tightens. Your movements and the sounds of you struggling to take him only egg Jean on to go a little faster, and soon he’s using you like his own personal fleshlight, just as you want. His breathing speeds up and the redness of his face intensifies, head thrown back as he listens to the sloppy sounds of you taking him down your throat. You moan up at him, staring at Jean with those mesmerizing eyes, and he pulls you off of his cock with a wet ‘pop!’.

“Faster.” That’s all you utter before engulfing him in your mouth again, and he is more than happy to oblige. Jean begins thrusting into your mouth again, only quicker and less controlled. You know it’s only a matter of time before he’s grabbing the sides of your face and slamming you down hard against his pelvis with zero consideration for you and your need to breathe. And the thought of what was to come only made you more excited. The idea of Jean not giving a fuck, of just using you for his own pleasure, of being completely lost in himself as he fucks his hard dick down your throat. The knot in your stomach tightens, and the throbbing sensations in your spasming cunt are painful at this point. You want Jean’s tongue and his fingers in you so bad at this point, but you’re more than willing to delay your own pleasure if it meant being used like this.

Just as you expected, Jean becomes more and more unraveled as he arrived at his climax. Tears blur your vision and stream down your cheeks as you hold onto his thighs for balance, sucking and swirling your tongue within the small space in your mouth around his dick. His loud, stuttered groans are music to your ears, a tell-tale sign that you’ll get what you were after very soon. And there it is: the stilling of his trembling hips, the drawn-out groan as he holds your head down, and the feeling of thick streams of cum spilling down your throat. His grasp loosens before his hands fall to his side entirely, and you pull the softening appendage from your mouth. Jean takes in the sight of you, layering kisses up and down his length, rubbing at his balls and licking away any remaining remnants of his seed like the good girl you are, and then falls to his back onto the bed. He reaches down to caress your cheek, sighing and staring through half-lidded eyes as you manuever to sit on his lap. The look on your face reveals your intentions, not that Jean wouldn’t of known anyway. Of course you wouldn’t stop at just sucking his dick, you never did, it turned you on too much and you were always craving more of him afterwards. But, Jean was happy to gratify you. Anything for his angel.

#Jean x reader #Jean smut #jean kirschstein imagine #Jean kirstein smut #aot smut #aot x reader smut #Jean kirschtein smut #x reader #smut #jean x reader smut #jean kirstein x reader smut #aot imagines #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #attack on Titan smut

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bleubrri · 2 years

Text

۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴍᴜsᴇ - ᴀʀᴛɪsᴛ!ᴊᴇᴀɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

༄ؘ ˑ contains: 2.5k of artist!jean, shower sex, creampie, pottery clichés, black coded!reader being a nude model bc i forgot to explicitly mention that oops, hc format + a lil oneshot<3

༄ؘ ˑ a/n: not proof read T^T

artist!jean who insists that you’re his muse. he’d been in a rut for what felt like aeons but in reality was probably only a couple of months before he met you. still, the way jean describes it as a transformative spark of inspiration sounds so poetically exaggerative that you find yourself with an involuntary grin whenever he mentions it.

artist!jean who uses oil, the first time. oil paints in fiery coppers and springtime golds to capture the exposed skin of your body. the flick of a wrist, the turn of a waist. the curve of a pelvic bone. he wasn’t lucid when he painted you, he swears. swears he still feels fuzzy working on some pieces even now. you were artwork. artwork that inspired artwork. that made him frantic to smear carefully calculated streaks of colour across his canvas in a lustful burst of creativity.

artist!jean who you approach after the class, slipped into sandals and a silk robe and trotting over to ask to see his work. he’d been sheepish, adrenaline from his fervent work wearing off and leaving him with the feeling of hummingbirds in his belly. you’d modelled a few times, never really interested in any of the students work, they were all either creepy, indifferent or desperate for a passing grade. but he’d made you.. beautiful. captured a playful sensuality that you didn’t even realise was there.

artist!jean who hangs the piece in the entryway to his studio—even if now he has the real thing to inspire him everyday. his studio smells of woodsy canvas paper and earthy terracotta clay, usually. sometimes it’s the headache-pine of lingering turpentine seeped into scattered rags. other times its simply his own sweet scent. in the summer, he foregoes a t-shirt and unbuttons his paint-stained overalls to hang loosely around his waist. (you love watching him work in the summer).

artist!jean who likes to use you as a canvas. and he’s never told you that, but it’s obvious in the way that his tongue feels like brush strokes against the silky depths of your cunt. in the way his strong hands mould the flesh of your ass with deft fingers. in the way he frantically pumps his cockhead, head thrown back and panting to send himself over the edge and paint your pussy with the milky globs of his seed. you’re always a little oversensitive, twitching when his lithe fingers trace the puffy lips of your cunt, ghosting over your swollen clit to fully coat you in the pearly mark of his arousal. you call it fingerpainting. he says you just look good covered in his cum.

artist!jean who often gets the insatiable urge to just fucking make something at the most inconvenient hours. his fingers will twitch against their place on your stomach, his brain far too awake for well past midnight. he always relents, reluctantly leaving your orbit and quietly padding downstairs.

tonight, you find him hunched over on the kitchen floor, caked to the elbows in drying terracotta. there’s a gentle hum from the pottery wheel and the vaguely soil-like smell of unfired porcelain.

the sound of your bare feet padding across the tile floor makes him glance in your direction. you’re a rough sleeper—a few braids have slipped from the satin of your scarf and are framing your tired face. jean gets the sudden urge to smush your sleep-puffed cheeks and kiss the sleep from your eyes.

you give him a dreamy smile and a kiss on his head as you pass him to grab a glass of water.

“can’t sleep?” he asks softly, as if any remote volume will disrupt his work and disturb your peace. you mumble something that sounds a lot like not without you and jean feels his insides heat and liquify inside of him.

he pauses his ministrations with his partial vase and dips his arms into the bucket of water next to him, sloshing off the dried clay and re-slicking his hands.

you’re craving the cloak of unconsciousness, resigning yourself to a lonely hour or two in your shared bed. you do sleep better with him, but you’ve been together long enough to know that you’ll always wake up with the weight of his arms draped around you. but jeans making impatient, semi-clean grabby hands in your direction.

“baby. c’mere.”

you groan around the glass and shake your head in defiance.

“babyyy.” he sings.

“jean, it’s 3am.”

“c’monnn.” he pouts.

“aren’t you tired of this yet? you do this every single time.” you’re huffing, trying to fight the smile that manifests over stupid, fond, repetitive memories.

when jean got into pottery, he made the completely predictable and cliche move of dragging you in between his legs and guiding your hands along the damp clay. the patrick swayze to your demi moore. he had even started humming the chorus of that godforsaken song, unchained melody, that had you booing and fighting off giggles. but it was cute, in a sickeningly romantic way.

and yet jean had kept on doing it. every time you walked into his studio and saw him sorting through bricks of clay or re-dipping his hands, you’d bolt for the door only to be chased down by jean who’d drag you back with soiled hands and a wicked grin. he called it ‘ghosting’ you.

“it never gets old!” he insists, waggling his fingers at you. “c’mon you love it.”

“goodnight, jean.” you say, putting away your glass and rushing to sidestep him.

nimble fingers wrap around your wrist just as you pass him. damn his long ass limbs.

you groan and writhe in his grip as he stands to embrace you. “ugh you’re all wet!” he ignores you, grin dripping with mirth as he buries himself in your neck and shuffles you both in front of the vase.

“i just showered right before bed! i can’t shower again this late.. you’re so annoying you know that?” you’re grumbling as jean drags you down to sit with him, you’re mildly irked but revelling in his blanketing heat behind you. jean punctuates the kiss to your pulsepoint with the glide of his hands over yours. air haults in your lungs as long fingers slip between your own and the clay smooths beneath your palm.

you huff again. “i hate you.”

jean breaths a laugh through his nose, tickling your neck, making you smile.

you give in. melting against him and letting him guide your hands to smooth out the sides of the vase, making dips and curves with the clefts of your palms. all the while making a wet trail of his lips across your skin. suctioning behind your ear. blowing along your collar bone. fucking teasing.

“don’t start.” you warn him.

“hm?” he feigns innocence, resting his chin on your shoulder and turning a fraction to peck the side of your mouth.

you scoff, slipping your hand from his and smearing a streak of clay on his nose.

“forget it.”

“hey!” he gapes at you “that was uncalled for.” he grumbles. your remaining hand caged around his own suddenly feels crushed under his increasing weight. clay starts to collect between your fingers, thick globs of rust caking your digits and jeans.

you raise a brow. “don’t you dare.”

but oh he dares.

his filthy hand shoots up the expanse of your forearm, making you screech into the night. jeans laughing as you recoil, almost elbowing him in the ribs. “you started it.” he states with a loud, wet kiss to your cheek that you try to swat away.

“i’ll fucking finish it you asshole.” you grunt, dipping into the water and flicking it at him.

jean yells at the unexpected attack, quickly recovering and grabbing your retreating wrist. “oh so now you wanna make a mess?” he asks, guiding your hand back to the sad excuse for a vase.

your bubbling laughter dies into nothing as jean claws his fingers around yours. “then let’s make a mess, baby.” he rips a chunk of clay from the side, cradled in your fingers and in a flash it’s smushed against your clavicle.

an incredulous, breathy laugh erupts from you. the cold smear of sienna on your body definitely warranting a shower now.

“you’re dead, kirstein.” you say calmly, a menacing smile on your pretty face as jean tries to cage you further between his legs to hinder your movements.

the next few minutes are a flurry of attacks. jean nearly knocks over the bucket in his attempt to scoop up the gross, soggy remnants at the bottom of the water and smear it on your cheeks. you’re both yelping and laughing as clay gets smeared along your exposed skin. you even manage to drop some onto jeans plaid pyjama bottoms in the ultimate revenge ploy. eventually you scramble up from the floor and jean relents, hands up in surrender as the misshapen blob of clay spins aimlessly on the pottery wheel.

“truce!”

“truce.” you smirk, offering a hand to your temporary foe and dragging him up from the floor. he’s got that stupid horny look in his eye as he reaches full height and stares down at you. soft eyes droopy under the weight of his arousal and pupils blown in lust.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes, whether over his blatant neediness or your feathery resolve to give in to him, you aren’t sure. being pressed against his broad form for so long hadn’t exactly been satiating enough.

on your tiptoes, your arms circle his neck and you kiss him, uncaring of the dot of clay that somehow ended up on his perfect little cupid’s bow. “how ‘bout that shower?” you mumble as you pull back, lidded gaze boring into his.

the lifting of your body serves as his answer. reflexively your legs lock around his trimmed waist, and you indulge in the taste of him as he blindly makes his way to the bathroom.

the journey from the kitchen to underneath the spray of the shower is full of tongue and teeth. lips on his neck. a flurry of clothes shed. the cool slate of the wall against your back makes you shiver, but they’re swallowed into the heat of jeans mouth almost immediately.

“you sure you don’t want head or something?” he muses against your lips. jean always tends to be unabashedly direct when he’s in a dizzying state of arousal.

“i’m good.” you assure him, scratching lightly at the sensitive spot above his nape and watching him shiver. “jus’ go easy.”

he hums, taking the plush of your bottom lip between his teeth as he pumps himself to full mast under the scalding stream. you’re propped up between the wall and his body when his thick tip traces your clit. his skin is flushed, pink cheeks and swollen cock dancing around your engorged nerves and down to your slit. he’s got one palm gripping the meat of your ass, the other lining himself up with your hole as he props you open with one knee.

instinctively, you clench and try and snap your thighs shut when his tip sheaths inside of you, hot and heavy and splitting you open. his thumb settles on your dripping clit, drawing slippery circles with a delicious pressure. he couples it with sucking on your tongue, you like to be distracted at the preface to pleasure that comes with taking his girth.

“ngh—i f-forgot that water makes the worst fucking lube—shit—” you’re moaning into his mouth, but not in the way that he wants.

“complaining a lot tonight, aren’t we angel?” he teases, nipping at the velvety flesh of your jugular.

“i’m not complaining, i’m jus—fuck!” he cuts you off with the snap of his hips to bottom out into the welcoming heat of your gooey walls. he shudders as you clench and flutter around him, brain already foggy with desire.

“you’re complaining.” he repeats, slow drags of his cock melting into a steady pistoning of his hips. “you were impatient weren’t you? wanted to go straight for my cock.” you think you mutter something in agreement, too focused on the way you can feel every fucking ridge of his shaft swelling and trailing against your pocket of nerves as jean shifts his angle. that gorgeous twisting vein along his shaft pumping with blood and throbbing against your sensitive flesh. he knows what he’s pressing against. you can feel the bump of his pelvic bone against your hips with each precise thrust as he relentlessly aims for your g-spot.

being with jean is a fucking sensory experience. the friction from the trail of hair below his navel. the constant flutter of his fingertips across your slick skin. heated breaths. washboard abs that pull taut with each ravenous connection of your sexes. full balls churning with his load that slap against your ass from the force of his hunger. he’s broad and firm and soft and everywhere and everywhere—

“shit, shit right there, baby. ‘s so good, you’re so good.” he can taste the sweetness from your mewling coating his tongue and sliding down to his stomach. the feel of your skin under his hands, god, he could swear you were made for him. moulded from divine clay, or made from his rib. that’s how the story goes, isn’t it?

as quickly as the foamy white ring of your cream forms around the base of his cock, it’s being washed down the drain under the constant stream of water. a waste, he thinks. there are so many possibilities when you cum. still, he can’t really focus on that now, the frayed rope in his stomach coiling tighter by the second, the blissful feeling of you reaching your high spurring him on to the peak of his own.

familiar fingers tug on the hairs at the base of his head, punching a serrated breath from his lungs and jean practically hauls you against him as thick spurts erupt from his twitching member.

adoration manoeuvres your bodies, afterwards. the careful combing of fingers through his tawny strands, melded together with clumps of dried clay. the smooth sweeping of suds over the peak of your chest. hushed apologies for the fingertip-bruises that pepper your hips, for the crescent scratches that decorate his nape and shoulders; we’re even, like you always are.

and when you finally crawl back into bed, dark streaks of lilac in the sky signalling an invitation for dawn, jean ponders the way you fit so perfectly against him. the way your back curves against his chest and his arms settle into the soft flesh of your bare stomach. he can barely feel your gap in his ribcage.

you drift off easily in his arms. peaceful, dreamless sleep beckoning you. when daybreak peeks through the cracks in the blinds, you smile at the feeling of jeans comforting weight firmly draped around you. you wriggle around to face him, one side of his face squished against the pillow and boyish serenity dousing his handsome features.

and in the virtuous light of the morning, you can’t help but think that he’s artwork.

#: @luvkun4 @sheluvzeren

#I USED THE WORD MEMBER DKSJDH #officially desensitised to that horrific vile word😞#aot x reader #jean x reader smut #jean x reader #jean x black reader #jean kirstein x reader smut #jean kirstein smut #jean kirstein x reader #aot smut #aot x reader smut #aot fluff #jean fluff #aot x black reader

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tonycries · 8 months

Text

Exes who…

Synopsis. Showing up to a party looking like that. What's a man to do when he just can't stay away?

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, desperate boys, unprotected sex, NSFW, cunnilingus, pet names (my girl, babe), swearing.

Word count. 1.0k

A/N. This was supposed to be shorter, sorry lovelies. Art by @_3aem on Twitter.

Exes who know they should stay away, but one whiff of your perfume at some dingy party and he’s dragging you to the nearest bathroom.

He’s pathetic, he knows, but right now he couldn’t give less of a fuck as he spreads you on that bathroom counter and dives face-first into your dripping cunt.

Greedily lapping at your juices, the taste of your pussy on his tongue was so addictive. Fuck, he missed this so much.

He feels feral. Groaning lowly at the tug of your hand on his hair which hurts so good. He flicks his tongue harshly over your throbbing clit. More. He needs more.

“Hah- Fuck- Feels so good!”

“Yeah, jus’ like that, my girl.”

Making out with your pussy was almost as addictive as fucking you. You were a drug he couldn’t let up - he couldn’t get enough of.

Nose-deep in your cunt, he tastes you over and over the way he imagined when he fucked his fist on those lonely nights.

Fingers digging into your thighs, he moves your legs so that they wrap around his head, bringing him impossibly closer to your hot core. He breathes over it - teasing - mouth watering at the sight of it getting wetter just for him.

He’s pretty sure your sinful moans and the squelching sounds could be heard above the overplayed pop on the other side of the door. Good, let them hear. It’ll teach that scrub outside that was eyeing you a thing or two about what he can’t have.

“Hngh- Baby, I’m gonna-”

Once you cum around his tongue, hips bucking wildly and clit catching on his nose as you ride his face, he thinks he’d be happy to die here if it was in-between your legs.

A final peck to your quivering cunt - not a goodbye, no, he’ll be seeing this pretty pussy again - but a prelude for what was to come.

Amidst heated kisses, he lets you taste yourself on his tongue as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. Fucking trousers - they come with too many fucking buttons. He wants to feel you now. Have your wet cunt pulsing around his painfully hard cock as he gets drunk off of your pretty moans.

So he does.

He only has his flushed tip kissing your folds, but already feels like he’ll fucking pass out. He teases your entrance - willing himself to wait like he did all these past few months. This won’t be the last time - he knows - but he sure as hell is going to treat it like it is.

“Tell me what you want, my sweet girl.” he huffs out, eyes boring into your dazed ones. Beautiful. You were always so beautiful.

“Please. I need you in me so bad.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Please, baby.”

Your lustful whimpers are what makes him snap. You were going to be the death of him.

Fully sheathing himself in you, he fucks your pussy with a merciless cadence that has your nails digging into his shoulder at how painfully good you were stretched. Tight. So tight.

He feels himself losing his sanity as your cunt struggles to adjust to his size, walls clenching down on his throbbing erection. It’s animalistic - the way your pussy tries to suck him back in when he pulls out fully, only to ram inside you again.

“Shit- Pussy made jus’ for me. Only me.” he moans.

One strong arm steadying himself on the counter, and the other with an almost-painful grip on your hip, he keeps up a pace that has his abs burning. Heavy balls stinging as they smack relentlessly against your ass.

He bites down on your exposed neck to muffle the strangled groans ripping from his throat at the ethereal feel of your snug cunt - he needs to better drink in your fucked out yelps at his harsh thrusts.

His dick twitches inside when you start whining out his name as you reach closer and closer to your climax. He could do this forever. You were heaven on Earth.

In his hazy mind, he distinctly registers the jingle of the doorknob. Annoying fuckers can’t take a hint.

“Fuck off.” he barks out, “I’m fuckin’ my future wife in here.”

His heart clenches as you push your face into the crook of his neck in embarrassment. Pulling you closer to him in response - strings of slick and precum connecting you to him - he hopes whoever’s there up above strikes him down if he doesn’t wife you up.

Ah…he’s so close.

There isn’t even a hair’s breadth between your two bodies as he fucks into you mindlessly, not even a trace of thought for the poor soul on the other side of the door. He’s got more important things to do - you.

“Baby- Shit. I’m so close.” your exhausted mewls are music to his ears. His balls tighten and cock aches for release.

Teeth clenched and brows furrowed at how your walls were fluttering around him so perfectly, he grits out “Me too, my girl. Me too.”

Your legs tighten around his toned waist as your cunt clamps down on his thick length - sending both of you over the edge.

He sees stars as he cums. Thick ropes painting your walls white and shaky whimpers of your name leaving his mouth like a prayer. You really were heaven on Earth.

Cum drips down the side when he slows down to shallow grinds of his hips, fucking his cum deeper and deeper into you. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he pulls his sensitive cock out of you.

With a long finger, he gathers the cum now slowly dripping out of you. Pooling it at his fingertips before popping them into his mouth, half-lidded eyes looking right into your fucked out ones. He moans around them as if tasting a delicacy, elated at the way your mouth drops in disbelief at his lewd act.

He feels barely lucid as he snaps your panties back on you with a devilish grin and tucks himself back into his trousers.

Unlocking the door to pointed looks he couldn’t care less about, he can’t keep his eyes off the alluring curve of your hips as you walk away back to the party - pretending like his cum isn’t making a mess of your panties right now.

Dick twitching to life again, he pulls out his phone - unblocking you once more.

– GOJO, Choso, Geto, Suna, ATSUMU, KUROO, Oikawa, Sakusa, JEAN, EREN

A/N. …Gimme a min I’m cooking up something for Suguru…

Plagiarism not authorized.

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