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Jean muffles a moan into the smooth yet solid expanse of Mikasa’s thigh as he plunges his fingers back into his hole. He’d used too much lube and the squelch of it squirting from his ass is deafening in comparison to the quiet sounds of the movie playing on the screen behind him. Mikasa hums, her gentle fingers are cradling the back of Jean’s head, firmly redirecting his face back to where it had been between her legs. The movement smushes his nose into her wet cunt and he dutifully puts his tongue back to work.
“Keep your fingers moving,” she says, voice quiet but it catches Jean’s attention immediately. Mikasa rarely even made a sound during sex, talking usually means that Jean had done something to tick her off somehow.
He tries to gauge her reaction, but looking up at her face from the angle he’s at proved to be futile – his lashes had matted into clumps from his tears earlier and he doesn’t even have his contacts in.
In the first place, he should be asleep on the couch right now, head resting against Mikasa’s shoulder with her arm resting on the back of the couch, the movie playing in the background, waiting for Eren to return home from the first graveyard shift. One of the guards had called in sick and Eren had been on the emergency roster – it’s rare for Mikasa and Eren to be working apart because security patrolled in set pairs, alas the situation had called for it and Eren had gone to work after they all had dinner together.
The plan had been to stay up late until Eren got home from the late shift, except somewhere between them half-heartedly marathoning Die Hard while trying not to fall asleep and Jean cuddling groggily into the warmth of Mikasa’s side, Jean had ended up on his knees, face in Mikasa’s crotch and his own fingers up his ass, which has now been stretched open and ready for when Eren walked through the front door.
Eren.
The thought of his other lover has Jean stifling another moan into where he’d been sucking on Mikasa’s labia. The vibrations obviously please Mikasa, who tightens her hold in his hair and drags him closer.
“What did I say?” She asks as Jean licks up at her clit. The clarity in her voice stops Jean in his track and he hesitantly tilts his head up to look at her. She doesn’t look angry, at least not yet, but something tells Jean that if he is to screw this up any more than he is now, he’d be in for a harsh punishment.
Unsure of whether he’s allowed to speak or not, Jean makes a small, confused noise, hoping to placate her. Except it makes her brows furrow slightly and suddenly there’s a heavy pressure against his hand, crudely nudging his fingers all the way into his ass, jabbing them right into his prostate. The rough treatment of his tender anal canal catches Jean off-guard, and he isn’t fast enough to swallow the sob that tears its way out of his throat.
“I said,” Mikasa starts, low and stern, “to keep your fingers moving.” And Jean knows that he’s pissed Mikasa off. She had repeated herself, which is normally the precursor to Jean being unable to walk properly for about two days afterward.
He tries to correct his mistake before it’s too late but her foot keeps his hand jammed in that one spot, unable to pull away to thrust back in. He looks at her, eyes wide with alarm.
“You know better than to misbehave when Eren’s not here,” she chides, one hand smoothing back the hair that had fallen into Jean’s eyes, the other one maintaining its strong grip on the back of his neck. “Do you want me to tell him about this when he comes home? Or, do you want to be good and listen to me?”
The thought of Eren coming home to Mikasa relaying just how much Jean had misbehaved in his absence scares the living daylights out of Jean. The welts on his thighs and the bite marks still healing on his ass are a good reminder that he really ought to listen to Mikasa well if he wants to be able to sit down on a chair in the foreseeable future.
Jean shakes his head vehemently. Eren doesn’t get off his shift till one in the morning, he still had a good, solid hour to put himself back into Mikasa’s good books.
“I can’t hear you,” Mikasa says, and the hand on Jean’s nape becomes more constricting.
“No!” Jean squeaks hastily, “I’ll be good, I swear.”
Mikasa stares down at him for a few seconds before speaking. “You’re going to keep fucking yourself until I come, afterwards, we’re going to try something new. Whether or not you come is up to yourself, but don’t think that I’ll go easy on you just because you’re oversensitive. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, sire,” Jean bites out. His cock twitches and a bead of pre-cum drips onto the fur below him. Later, Eren will yell at him for not being careful and ruining their new rug, and guilt-trip Jean into scrubbing it out bent over on his knees. And Eren will pretend he isn’t deeply aroused by the sight of Jean’s ass up in the air, as if waiting for someone to come along and stick their dick in. But right now, Jean’s focus is on pleasing Mikasa, and he knows the effect of his absolute debauchery is not lost on her. Mikasa’s legs squeeze Jean’s sides in an attempt to draw him closer, and Jean returns his mouth back to her pussy, tongue tip eagerly flicking against her sensitive clit.
Mikasa lets out a hum of approval when Jean licks a strip from her entrance up to her clit, and he takes it as encouragement to keep suckling on her nub and nibbling on her folds before delving his tongue into her wet heat. Jean doesn’t forget to finger himself, either, hips buckling as he stuffs three fingers into his loose hole. He’s already wet enough that his rim just accommodates it all without much resistance as his fingers glide in and out at a steady pace, and the thought that he’s even slicker than Mikasa deepens the flush across his chest.
“Jean,” Mikasa breathes, the hand in his hair gently guiding him away from her cunt. She must like that the lower part of his face is absolutely drenched in her juices, because she bends down and plants a chaste kiss on his sweat-soaked forehead, and then one at the corner of his left eye where a stray tear had leaked out.
“Turn around.”
Jean’s familiar with the command, so he turns half a circle on his knees and drops his chest to the floor. Spreading his legs until he feels Mikasa’s calves caging him in, Jean’s smart enough to know to keep his fingers inside himself unless Mikasa allows him to take them out.
“Baby…” Mikasa sighs, and Jean can hear the faint, slick sounds of her fingers thrusting in and out of her cunt. He wants to turn around and watch her, but the weight of her stare keeps him pinned to the ground. And yet, the noises distract him enough that the movement of his fingers slows down as he tries to concentrate on imagining the faces Mikasa’s making right now.
He’s so distracted that when a hand splays across his lower back, right above his ass, it startles him so much that he bucks hard enough to almost throw it off. Except, the hand is attached to Mikasa, and the likelihood of Jean having enough strength to buck Mikasa off in any circumstance is infinitely close to zero.
“Did I say you could stop?”
Jean squirms under Mikasa’s unyielding touch, and pulls his fingers out and plunges them back in. He’s been fucking himself on his fingers for so long now, his sphincter no longer has any resistance; his hole is just wide open for Mikasa to see the pink flesh of the walls inside.
It brings an intense feeling of shame, washing over his body and going straight to his groin. There’s no way Mikasa hadn’t caught the way his rim had tried to valiantly clench around his fingers but failing miserably like the used cunt of a fucked-out whore.
“Use four fingers.”
The hand on his lower-back shifts until it’s groping his left ass-cheek and pulling it apart in a harsh grip, and Jean almost comes. It takes him a second to recollect and yank himself back from teetering on the edge, and when he does, he stuffs his pinky alongside his three other digits into his ass, making sure to arch his back and put on a show for Mikasa.
It should be humiliating, really, that his hole just gives into the four fingers sinking into him so easily, like a hot knife through butter, but Jean’s mind keeps floating to the 16-inch monster cock dildo Eren had gotten Mikasa as a prank that now resides in the back of their closet, waiting to be used. He’d seen Mikasa cleaning it along with all the other dildos that she likes shoving into his ass, but the sight of that bulking and protruding mass had been intimidating, to say the least. Jean’s always been a bit of a size-queen but Eren’s well-endowed prick and Mikasa’s usual strap are enough for him. Besides, Jean would love them regardless of dick or strap-on size.
However, that doesn’t stop his brain from wondering what it would feel like to have all those 16 inches of silicone up his ass though, and he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of his hole faster to match Mikasa’s pace.
Jean’s orgasm sneaks up on him like that, cock completely untouched. His vision whites out and he goes deaf for half a second, face pressed into the softness of the fur beneath him. And as much as it is brain-numbing, it is also unsatisfying as his inner muscles try to clench around something thick and solid but are only met with his own slender fingers. It’s frustrating enough that he wants to sob into the rug and his hips chase his fingers, trying to satisfy the urge as his orgasm wreaks havoc on him. But it’s not enough – he’s so empty and he just wants to be full. He whines and thrusts his fingers back in harder, but then, the hand on his ass leaves to still his frantic movements, and tug him back into a kneeling position with his front facing Mikasa. She stands over him, her crotch at his eye level.
The dark gaze Mikasa has trained on him causes a lump to form in Jean’s throat, and her eyes trail after the movement of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows it down. Her hand finds its way back around the back of his head, and instinctively Jean leans up to mouth at the pink flesh of her pussy lips. Mikasa’s breath hitches slightly, and Jean barely notices her hand reaching down to rub on her clit as he starts working his tongue and lips on her hot cunt.
It doesn’t take long for Mikasa to come, her fingers on her clit working furiously while Jean nips and laps gently over her tender entrance, his hands leaving lube stains on her thighs as he steadies her while the spasms wrack through her body.
When she sits back down on the couch, she pulls Jean’s head back between her knees. She cradles his face in her hand, thumb smoothing tiny circles on his cheek and her index finger stroking the back of his ear, petting him like a cat. Her gaze tracks the flow of the slick glistening on Jean’s chin as it drips down onto his neck and chest, and she presses a kiss to his red lips.
“Stay,” Mikasa says, voice still breathy. She gets up and lays his head carefully on the spot where she’d been sitting.
Jean sighs as he waits for her, ears picking up on some rummaging from the direction of the kitchen. Mikasa returns a moment later – on her right hand, extending all the way up to her elbow, is the disposable glove Eren uses when he gets particularly fussy about hygiene and does any sort of serious scrubbing as he's cleaning out the nooks and crannies of their apartment.
And Jean thinks he may know what Mikasa has intended.
Sure enough, when he crawls on the couch with his ass presented and his knees splayed wide without needing to be instructed, he receives a grunt of approval from Mikasa as she reaches down and grabs the lube bottle from where Jean had tossed it to earlier.
He can feel his anus gaping open at the stretch he’s put his legs at now that it’s even more relaxed after already coming once, and he should be overcome with embarrassment, except the anticipation does a wonderful job of trampling it down.
“Tell me if it hurts.”
The bottle of lube plops onto the couch next to Jean’s head, and he bites his lips when he feels a lube-slicked, gloved thumb hook into his hole and pulling down. The cold air meeting his heated flesh causes him to shiver, his asshole clenches instinctively to block it out and that earns him a hard slap on the thigh from Mikasa for resisting and not presenting himself properly. The slap overlaps with some of the still-healing welts Eren had left on him with his belt earlier that week, and Jean chokes trying to hold back the gasp of pain bubbling up his throat.
Mikasa bends down and apologetically kisses his shoulder where Eren’s bite scar has started to throb, and smooths a hand across his waist in comfort. Her non-gloved fingers trace letters onto his lower back and it makes Jean shudder. He knows what she’s thinking about, they’d talked about it once before where Mikasa had brought it up – the tramp stamp of her name. She hadn’t been clear on why she wanted Jean to get the tattoo. Nevertheless, it had surprised Jean, because, unlike Eren, Mikasa never liked to mark Jean up and preferred him relatively unblemished, so he figured she had probably been miffed by the fact that Eren had left a permanent claim on him where she had not. Either way, Jean’s staying strong on not getting it until they sort out whatever feelings of jealousy that’s going on between them.
But this doesn’t mean that the thought of having a tramp stamp branding him as Mikasa’s doesn’t arouse Jean to hell and back. Because it definitely does, and his cock twitches in agreement.
“Hold yourself open,” Mikasa commands. Jean reaches his hands back and pulls his cheeks apart, his face and neck had gone completely red by this point, but he knows better than to defy Mikasa.
A gloved finger traces his stretched rim and experimentally dips into his sopping wet hole. She repeats the process, never putting more than two or three inches inside of him.
“Please,” Jean begs, overstimulated and aching for it. Frustrated, he works his hips back in short thrusts, and Mikasa’s fingers retract from his body completely. “I need-”
“Behave,” she warns, effectively cutting Jean off. Her voice has become steely and Jean immediately stills. Head turning around in a desperate search for her eyes, Jean is met with a cold stare that has him pressing himself further into the couch.
Which is the wrong move to make, because Mikasa takes it as him trying to escape.
The slap that lands over his left buttock almost has Jean howling in pain, and Jean knows with certainty that Mikasa had been aiming for the same spot as the bite wound Eren had left. Mikasa doesn’t let up, each strike of her hand perfectly replacing the shape of her hand from the strike before. Eren may be rough and brutal, but Mikasa is cruel and ruthless, and has the skills and strength to back it up. It feels never-ending, one smack after another as Mikasa works out her anger. By the end of it, Jean is crying and hiccuping into one of the couch cushions, one side of his ass flaming with agony in the shape of a single handprint while the other side remains completely untouched.
Mikasa gives him a minute to calm down and for him to spread himself open again before her gloved hand returns to his hole. The lube has gone cold now but Jean doesn’t dare to move a muscle, afraid of pissing Mikasa off again.
As a reward, she slides two fingers in up until the hilt. Jean barely feels it, too overwhelmed with the throbbing sting on his left cheek. In fact, he is so distracted by the pain, he doesn’t feel it until Mikasa’s returning her hand with four fingers pressing up against his entrance.
Unsurprisingly, all four digits sink in effortlessly, Jean’s rectum reshaping easily around the stretch. Mikasa spreads her fingers inside a couple more times to test the resistance, but there really is none. Jean’s looser and slicker than a bitch in heat now, she doesn’t need to wait any longer.
“Jean,” she says, left hand coming up to cup his drooling cock, “I’m going to put my hand in now.”
He nods, meek but sure, and she presses a kiss into the crown of his head in response, blanketing his back with her sturdy warmth as her hand presses back up against his rim. Mikasa has curved her hand with her thumb and pinky are touching, so that the breach into Jean’s hole is easy and it’s fine until they get to her knuckles.
Jean groans when he feels his ass strained tightly around the widest part of her hand. Mikasa pauses, rubbing up and down his left flank to comfort him. Then, she grabs the lube and pours the rest of the bottle onto his ass and her hand. She pushes forward gently but firmly and Jean’s sphincter eventually gives way around her knuckles, and the rest of her hand follows quickly.
Jean lets out a pitiful whine. He’s never felt so full before, and the pressure against his insides is so immense he swears he can feel Mikasa’s hand in the back of his throat. Perhaps, he thinks, if he looks down at his belly now, it would be distended with the shape of Mikasa’s fist protruding from it; his cock spews another rivulet of pre-cum onto the couch in response.
The feeling’s so foreign, yet so incredibly gratifying, and Jean thinks it’s the end of it but Mikasa starts curling her hand into a fist inside of him, the hard first joint of her thumb pressing unrelentingly into his prostate. The suddenness tears a scream out of him, and the overwhelming sensations bring a fresh wave of tears to his eyes.
Mikasa’s not a woman with small hands. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. Her fingers are thick and calloused from years of continuous combat training, and her unrelenting fist re-arranging Jean’s guts has him bucking his hips uncontrollably, unsure of whether or not he wanted to fuck back onto her arm or scramble off of it. But before he has enough time to make his decision, Mikasa has started unfurling her hand so that it lays flat inside of Jean, fingers spread out.
“It f-feels weird,” he wails, ass flexing around her wrist. Immediately, Mikasa curls her hand back into a fist.
“Is this better?” She asks calmly, with no hint of impatience in her voice. “Do you want me to take it out?”
“No,” he squeaks quickly, “no, I l-like it like this. Please.”
“Okay.” She kisses the tip of his ear with reassurance.
Slowly, she starts pulling her fist out right up to the point just before her knuckles so that the widest part of her hand rests against the inside of Jean’s rim, and then swiftly thrusting it back in. She stares down in fascination while continuing her ministrations. Her whole hand is disappearing into Jean’s body, and he’s just swallowing all of it, accepting her so easily and trying to suck her in greedily. Her cunt throbs in response to the sight, and the suctioning warmth wrapped around her fist makes her clit twitch.
Curiously, she wonders if this is what Eren feels when he fucks Jean.
Though, the thought is only brief, as her focus returns to Jean, who’s started moaning and writhing on the couch in pleasure. And sure enough, on the next slide out, Mikasa’s knuckles pop free from Jean’s hole with no resistance. But more arousing is the fact that Jean had thrust his ass back and whined from the loss. Mikasa lets a small smile form on her lips as she pummels her fist back into Jean’s trembling body.
With every punch in, Jean sees stars. His brain had short-circuited long ago, and all he knows is the blinding pleasure in his ass where Mikasa has forcefully left behind an imprint of her fist, and the urgent need to come.
“Wanna come,” he slurs, so blissed out that he’s forgetting his manners, “please, Mikasa, let me come-”
He’s cut off with a gasp when Mikasa brutally squeezes the buttock with the fresh bruises, but the pain is dull enough now that it only serves to heighten his pleasure.
“Work for it,” she replies and abruptly pulls her fist out of him. Sitting down on the rug, she plants her elbow perpendicularly onto the couch, uncaring about the fabric soaking up the lube pouring down her forearm. Jean cries out from the emptiness in his ass and shifts around in confusion. Mikasa sighs, soothing her thumb along one of the welts across his left thigh. “You know what to do, baby. Hands on the back of the couch.”
Jean hurriedly re-arranges himself into an upright position with his ass poised over Mikasa’s fist and his hands gripping the couch. Hesitantly, he sinks down until he feels the pressure of Mikasa’s hand pressing up against his entrance. The pleasant sensation is enough that his knees buckle wildly and he slips further down until he’s engulfed her whole fist and about a quarter of her forearm. The breach of the fist past his rim and the feeling of Mikasa’s arm slipping and moving against his insides makes Jean’s eyes roll into the back of his head and he screams.
Jean never used to last long riding dick, always tiring quickly and the muscles in his thighs giving out soon, shaking in protest. But that had been until Mikasa decided to train him with a dildo that had a suction cup for the floor. Eren had snickered at him at first, but then he discovered that Jean could suck him off while he was bouncing on the fake cock stuck to the ground.
Now, powerful legs lift the rest of his quivering body off and onto the arm awaiting below, ass swallowing more and more of it as he sank down every subsequent time, Mikasa’s knuckles stabbing perfectly into his prostate.
Jean doesn’t babble like Eren does when he approaches orgasm, but he does get more incoherent and wanton about what he wants. In this case, he starts rolling his hips with more desperation, rutting and grinding onto the fist pressed up against his gut. Then his pelvis stutters, and Mikasa feels the muscles almost crushing her arm, clenching and fluttering around her fist as Jean is hit with his second, untouched orgasm of the day.
“C-coming, I’m com-” His voice breaks in the back of his throat and it goes into a high-pitched mewl as fireworks explode inside his brain. Jean blacks out for a brief period, but it seems like his body doesn’t want to stop, still rocking fervently against the appendage inside him. The movements topple him into overstimulation as his whited-out senses start returning back to him, and Mikasa catches him around the waist when Jean’s thighs finally give out, and luckily, just before he can slip down any further and impale the full length of her forearm into his ass.
“I’m going to pull out now,” she informs Jean once she has repositioned him on the couch so that he wouldn’t slip off accidentally. Jean nods sluggishly in response and chokes out a whimper when he feels the slow slide of Mikasa’s arm against his hypersensitive flesh and out past his rim. It takes a few long minutes and a few more weak spurts of cum from Jean’s cock by the time they reach her wrist. Mikasa gently unfolds her hand back into the position it had been in when she had first penetrated Jean – thumb touching pinky, and begins the act of slowly pulling out her hand. It’s a steady but easy process, no strain at all, and when Mikasa pulls completely free, Jean’s asshole loosely hangs open in a way she had never seen it do before.
She grabs the unmarred butt-cheek and pulls it out of the way so she can get a better view and look more carefully into Jean’s gaping hole as it’s still leaking lube. Jean whines and reaches a hand back to swat at her.
“No more,” he complains, trying to clench his rim shut and shy away from Mikasa’s insistent touch, but his body refuses to listen to him and his hole presents itself to her like a consolation price, lax and sloppy.
“No more,” she agrees, finally removing her prying fingers and patting him affectionately on his bum, and Jean thinks it’s actually over until her voice peeks up again. “Photo for Eren?”
Jean groans into his arms but grumbles out his consent. “Okay, but make it quick.”
Mikasa hums in response and picks her phone up from the coffee table. She returns her hand to Jean’s uninjured right buttock and stretches it apart, making sure to capture both Jean’s reamed hole and the new marks of abuse on his ass.
“Come on. Shower, then bed,” she suggests, chucking her phone back onto the table. Jean grunts in protest and remains unmoving from where he’s laid out, flipped around onto his back on the couch.
“Just let me die here,” he huffs dramatically and Mikasa grins slightly at his childish antics. She stands up and straightens herself, back popping as she stretches her arms above her head. Bending back down, she snakes one arm under Jean’s knees and one supporting his neck.
“What are you-” He splutters as she effortlessly lifts him from the couch in a bridesmaid's carry. Mikasa knows that she’s stronger than most people, but it never fails to surprise her just how light Jean weighs despite his towering height; she really ought to make sure he eats more and hits the gym with her and Eren more frequently.
“Eren would’ve left you out here,” she says and that shuts him up. “Or, do you want me to carry you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes?”
“No, this is fine. Thank you.” Jean pouts and Mikasa can’t help but lean down and peck those pretty lips. Jean snuggles closer and sucks a hickey into the side of her neck, right next to the teeth marks Eren had left on her that morning. When he’s done, he looks at Mikasa with a cheeky grin. He’s lucky that she’s not Eren because he would have just dropped Jean into their bathtub for the teasing and bad behaviour.
While they wait for the bathtub to fill up, Mikasa helps Jean wash his hair and scrub the dried fluids off his face from when he had eaten her out earlier – Jean doesn’t let her help with cleaning his ass, though, face flushed a deep crimson as he ordered Mikasa out of the bathroom. He lasts a formidable total of ten minutes soaking in the bath, Mikasa catching his head just in time before it hits the edge of the bathtub when he’d fallen asleep.
“Wake up.” She taps his cheek softly and it’s enough to rouse Jean long enough to dry himself and put on the pajamas that he insists on wearing, because he will never stoop so low as to sleep completely naked. Eren does it, but that’s because Eren’s an absolute twat.
“I love you.” Jean yawns once he’s settled below their sheets and comfortably tucked in. “Good night, and please tell Eren I love him, too. I think I’m gonna pass... out… now…”
Mikasa stares at Jean's peaceful features, and runs a hand through his still-wet hair.
“I love you, too,” she murmurs, bending down to press one last kiss onto the shell of his ear. Silently, she switches off the lights and closes the bedroom door as she walks back out to the living room to wait for Eren. Settling onto the couch again proves to be exceedingly difficult with all the new wet spots and stains they had added to it tonight but she eventually finds a clean and dry patch of fabric to sit on. Die Hard 5 is still somehow playing on the television so she turns that off, too.
Picking up her phone to check the time, Mikasa notices that Eren’s already texted back. The clock reads 1:06 AM, he’d probably just gotten off work and will be home soon enough considering the non-existent traffic at these hours and how close they live to the gallery.
(00:49) gothgirl : [ Attached Image ]
(01:00) birb: fuck what did u do to him
(01:00) birb: u better tell me every single detail while i fuck u
(01:01) birb: b home in 10
(01:07) gothgirl: remember to drive safely.
(01:08) birb: k mom
(01:08) gothgirl: get off your phone.
Still horny, Mikasa reaches down and strokes her folds through the slick-soaked fabric of her underwear. Eren would be home in a few minutes, she knew he wouldn’t mind her already getting the party started, but she would need to keep him quiet lest he disturbs Jean, who had to be up early the next morning to go to work and needed the sleep.
When Eren doesn’t reply, Mikasa opens the image she’d sent Eren, and just looking at the photo she had taken of Jean’s ass is enough to get her tingling below her navel. She finds the way Jean’s anus had gaped open so sluttily like a public glory hole, red and tender around his rim, incredibly erotic and mesmerising. Just the memory of him fucking himself onto Mikasa’s forearm so eagerly has her wetting her panties more, cunt clenching emptily around nothing.
Well, not empty anymore, she thinks as she hears the front lock click, and the door slowly creaking open.