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y3ager · 27 days

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Now Playing at the Video Store - Jean Kirstein x reader 18+

pairing: Jean Kirstein x afab! Reader summary: Nights at the video store are reruns for Jean. But it's a short skirt, a pretty smile, and your X-rated taste in movies that offer Jean something to tune into every weekend. word count: 7500+ content warnings: smut, explicit language, dirty talk, masturbation, voyeurism notes: Reader-insert but Jean's POV. He's a little pervy here. Set between the late 90s and the early 2000s. Mild plot.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ !!

Very little grabs Jean’s attention at the video store.

It’s the usual crowd every week. The gamers that snatch up the latest gaming titles, the oddballs that bring a stack of horror films at the counter (Jean thinks with too much enthusiasm), while the rest are just there to hang out.

It’s repetitive, it’s boring, it’s his part-time job.

However, it’s you that walks in one Friday evening that stirs his interest.

How can you not? You flash him and his coworkers a cute smile as you enter the store, short skirt flouncing when you spin a heel. You pass every aisle with tunnel vision, a woman who came here with something in mind. Jean likes that. You’ll be a quick and easy transaction. Of course, after some shameless flirting on his part.

From behind the counter, Jean sorts through a stack of returned rentals. He flits a look to find where you’ve wandered off to – way in the back.

You step forward and pause, scoping out your surroundings before making another move.

He keeps a tab on you, perplexed as to why you wait for a customer to pass you by while you rock back on your heels, scanning a nearby shelf with what looks like feigned interest. Strange. What are you doing? You lost?

Nope, Jean concludes, because after another minute, you enter the backroom, disappearing behind the door with a very distinct sign.

’18 and over ONLY!’

Jean’s mind blanks. Now this is something noteworthy.

Time slips away from him, and he’s not sure how long you’ve been in there, occupied with the Friday evening rush as customers approach the counter. Groups of friends and couples queuing up, eager to start their weekend with a movie marathon.

Despite all that, Jean steals a few looks at the back of the store, curious to see if he’ll catch you resurface.

More time passes, the line trickles and to Jean’s surprise, you step forward at the end of it, a DVD pressed to your stomach.

Jean blinks at the title hidden in your grasp. He means to look up and meet your eyes. Instead, his gaze stops at your chest beneath a thin long-sleeve Henley. It’s shameless, but Jean’s an easy guy. He sees tits, he stares, and he wants them in his mouth.

You clear your throat and Jean smiles, finding your eyes at last.

“How’s it going?” he says.

You cling tighter to the DVD. “I’m alright.”

“Were you ready to check out?”

Your lips purse in a smile. “I think so.” Yet, the DVD remains tucked away from prying eyes.

There’s no one else in line. His coworkers, Connie and Reiner are on the floor right now, organizing the shelves or goofing off, he doesn’t care to know which. It’s just you and him, and Jean doesn’t mind it one bit.

“You sure?” he says, biting back a smirk at your nerves.

It’s like you’re debating, turning over something in your head. Jean’s willing to wait. You look that good, he’ll stand here all night.

You slide the DVD onto the counter, slyly, like you’re conducting a drug deal. A onceover at the cover, and Jean’s dick twitches.

The lewd image of a woman, her best ‘O’ face on display while three of her fingers are buried deep in her pussy.

Jean doesn’t understand the lack of discretion when it comes to these DVD covers. Little is left to the imagination, but a glimpse at your shy expression is doing the opposite for him.

There’s no saving his mind from the gutter. It plummeted the moment he saw you in that skirt. And after this, there’s no going back.

Solo porn. He wonders… He shouldn’t… He imagines…it’s wrong. Is it? What sort of faces do you make when you’re touching yourself? Better yet why do you want to rent this?

“Just that.”

Your meek voice pulls Jean back to the present. And what sort of noises do you make?

The cogs in Jean’s head spin, twisting with sinful thoughts, he forces himself to get them in check. As if appraising your choice like some movie snob, Jean nods slowly, scanning it. “ID?”

You avoid his eyes, fingering the neckline of your shirt. You barely tug it to pull out your ID from the confines of your bra. It’s swift, but distinct that Jean chews on a groan, growing more rigid between his legs. You hold out your ID between tight fingers.

Same age as him, another neighborhood over. He imagines you’ll be a regular. Really, Jean only hopes.

He slides the DVD across the counter, mustering enough nonchalance. Although he’s enjoying how flustered you’re getting by the second, with three hours left on the clock, Jean’s not sure he can manage his erection for that long.

Still, he feels out your name on his tongue. “Due in seven days. Enjoy your night.”

You retrieve the DVD, albeit not in some hurry like he would have expected. You hold it close against your chest, wearing a coy smile as you read his name tag. “Thank you, Jean.”

Jean’s grateful for the privacy behind the counter because it takes a solid ten minutes for his boner to relax. When Reiner and Connie return, they notice something’s up.

“What’s with the smile?” Connie lifts a brow.

“Got a date later?” Reiner taunts.

With you, Jean fucking wishes. When he’s back in his apartment later, his mind drifts to the thought of you fingering yourself while his hand drifts past the waistband of his boxers.

…

Midweek, Jean finds your rental in the return bin.

So, you already had your fun with it, a few days before it’s deadline. He turns over the DVD in his hand with a sense of perversion. Did those soiled hands touch this? It’s a thought he ponders throughout the rest of the week, with wishful thinking that he’ll see you again.

And wishes come true because you’re back that Friday. Another quick smile to Jean, then to Connie, then to Reiner and you head to the back.

The idea of joining you back there scratches at the back of Jean’s skull. He wouldn’t mind observing your selection process, nor would he mind getting to be in such a private space with you alone. But he refrains, saddled with carting around rentals in the rom-com aisle on the opposite end of the store.

A while later you approach the counter. Connie flags Jean down, needing to use the restroom, the impromptu reunion playing out.

“Good to see you again.” Jean smiles in earnest around your name. You scratch at the shell of your ear, timid and already a little flustered, he bets from browsing through so much porn. “All set?”

Biting your lip, you swiftly hand over two DVDs this time.

Heat blazes beneath Jean’s skin, his pulse igniting at tonight’s haul. More solo porn, with one DVD featuring the porn actress creaming on a dildo. It’s not the woman on the cover he pays any mind to though. He looks at you, fantasizing the nuanced faces you’d make while getting fucked. They run rampant across his perverted mind.

God, you’re something else. Despite your timid nature, you’re very bold to rent these movies, back-to-back, and he thirsts to see more of you – with less clothing.

He scans the first DVD, feeling brave. “Date night plans?” Jean scans the next DVD, placing it atop the first, appearing innocuous.

Your mouth tightens into a line that Jean’s unable to read at first. You lick your lips, a faint smile unfolding. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He grins at that, pleased that you knew what he meant. “Solo date night plans?”

Now it’s your turn to grin a little, understanding the meaning behind that question. “Maybe…”

You’re a tease and he fucking loves it.

While he’d love to carry on the conversation – elsewhere ideally – a rush of customers gather at the counter behind you, and it’s not long before Connie’s back from his bathroom break to help kill the line.

For now, Jean’s fine leaving it here, hopeful that he’ll see you again soon. “Enjoy your Friday.”

“You too.”

He will, because he’s already got an image of you, legs spread out before him as he watches you fuck yourself with a toy.

…

It becomes routine. Friday night, you walk in, greet him and the others and make your private selection in the backroom. When you’re ready to check out, Jean’s sure to be the one to process those rentals making it seem coincidental.

But there have been a few times when either Reiner or Connie beckon you over while Jean’s busy with another customer that you seemingly aren’t ready. Only when Jean’s free do you approach the counter again.

Maybe you’re still too shy to let his coworkers in on your choice of movies, but Jean likes to think you reserve your attention for him only. Whether it’s delusional of him to think so, Jean doesn’t care. The interactions he has with you are special, and he’s just as eager to see what selections you’ve made every time.

It’s a familiar dance he does with you.

He flirts enough that leave you a little flustered, stumbling over your words a few times, only to recover with a warm smile as if it didn’t belong to someone who just rented a DVD of a porn actress using a wand.

And for the rest of the night, it’s all Jean can think of until he plays out that fantasy, fisting his cock to sleep.

…

Tonight, Jean catches you on your path to the back. He’s restocking returned rentals in the comedy aisle. Your presence triggers a sixth sense in him. When the door chimes, he just knows it’s you.

It’s never a disappointment. You slow your steps as you pass through the aisle, a coy smile in greeting.

Jean nods, gaze adrift at the cropped shirt you’re wearing. It hugs your tits nicely, the outline of your bra pokes through. But it’s the sparkle of jewel on your navel that has Jean’s mind wandering in lewd places yet again.

God, he really wants to see you naked. What else is hidden under those skimpy clothes? Nipple piercings? Maybe a tattoo on your lower back…?

And yet, you peer up at him, bashful and sweet, hands clasped at your front. “See you in a little bit.”

He watches you head towards the back, catching you throw a look over your shoulder only to avert your eyes shyly.

You’re a minx of a thing. A tantalizing balance of soft and sexy. Like an innocent femme fatale.

But your visits are so fleeting, a tempting treat of what-ifs every time he sees you, all of which revolve around those movies you rent. What if instead of a dildo, you were creaming on his cock?

What if he watched you while you edged yourself with your fingers?

What if you let him suck on your tits just once?

Several more what-ifs rattle in his skull in anticipation to meet you at the counter. When you reemerge from the back, you look to him and he drops the DVDs back onto the shelf and is behind that counter in record time.

“All ready for me?” Jean’s voice drips with tease.

You rock back on your heels, presenting the latest rental on mutual masturbation.

His mind goes into orbit, cutting you a look that you wither under. You must be thinking the same thing as him because why else would you rent this other than the intent to send Jean a message.

Still, you act nervous around him.

He doesn’t understand how you can suddenly turn so shy when bringing movies like this to the counter every week.

Some customers want to rent The Titanic, and you want to rent porn. Who’s he to judge? And if he was to judge, he prefers your taste in movies.

Nothing wrong with watching nookie, and nothing wrong with having it. And Jean wants to have it with you more than anything, these interactions reaching a fever pitch.

He shifts on his feet, a boner fast-forming he’s not quick enough to distract himself from the thoughts of you looking up at him with that shy expression while on your knees. More customers approach. Focus…

Thankfully Reiner hops on the neighboring register to help the others.

“Alright.” The strain between his legs rushes upwards, reaching his throat. He coughs lightly, finding his voice again. “Same time frame. Seven days.”

Your hand reaches out as he slides the DVDs forward, dainty, painted fingers brushing his, sending a spark to his cock. Jean bites back a groan.

You bat your lashes, hugging the DVDs to your chest. Shameless and hard, Jean’s eyes fall there, enamored with how your arms push them up, intentional or not, if it wasn’t for his paycheck, he’d fall right into them.

“Thanks again, Jean.”

He watches you leave, forlorn and hot all over. Another customer steps forward, but Jean doesn’t have the patience for them. He pats Reiner’s shoulder, choking on his words. “He’ll be right with you.”

He passes Connie on his way to the employee restroom, ignoring his odd look. He would have sprinted if it didn’t hurt to move his legs.

Behind the door, Jean locks it and undoes his zipper.

Dripping pre-cum, his cock is heavy in his hand as he touches himself. He thumbs the tip, hissing from the sensitivity.

Throwing his head back, Jean strokes his cock, muttering your name over and over again. He’s already so close to finishing that he doesn’t have time to tease himself with the fantasies of you, relying solely on your chest pushed up in that dress of yours earlier with that coy expression you always wear.

“F-f-fuck,” he breathes through gritted teeth, letting the memory of your voice uttering his name lead him to paradise.

His fist is warm and sticky with his spill, pouring thickly down his fingers. Jean doesn’t stop stroking himself, doesn’t stop thinking of you until his dick softens.

“Shit,” he sighs, cleaning himself up.

The rest of the evening he can’t get you off his mind. His thoughts drift when he has down time and he fights to keep another erection at bay.

Later that night, he’s on his back, playing a new movie of you behind his eyes.

…

After a few weeks, you’re more relaxed whenever he processed your rentals, and Jean had dialed up the flirting. His heart fluttered every time you smiled and laughed at something he had said, which was often suggestive.

And every time his mind ran wild with indecent fantasies, inspired by your latest rental. A new DVD each week. Solo porn. Softcore, with toys, with a man watching. Jean nearly nut on the spot when he glimpsed at the cover of a woman squirting.

Much like your weekly routine, Jean had developed one too. Touching himself after every shift, moaning your name, a vision of you creaming all over his hand, his face, his cock. On replay, a movie he dreams of experiencing.

Seeing you was the highlight of every shift, the reason for his better mood on Fridays.

It was addictive, something he couldn’t get enough of.

He was eager to get to the video store. His coworkers had never seen him this happy to be at work. It was out of character of him.

Jean checked the time: 7pm on the dot, you’d walk in through those doors soon. As he waits and works, Jean wonders what sort of outfit you’ve got on; what parts of your body will he get to preview tonight, and what movie you’ll rent this time.

So, when you were a no-show, that thrill came to a screeching halt. Jean was perplexed, expecting you all night. You never missed a Friday before.

He checked the clock as it inched closer to the end of his shift, there was still no sight of you. His mood soured as he rang up a guy that had grabbed two DVDs from the back.

He processed them swiftly, void of hospitality.

He had never been so bummed to clock out of work.

…

A month.

A whole month flew by without a single sight of you.

At first, Jean thought you’d come in later that weekend.

You didn’t.

Then he assumed that you were busy that Friday and couldn’t make it. You’d be back the following week.

Nope.

As much fun as he’s had with his little crush on you, Jean’s a realist. After two weekends of your absence, he didn’t expect to you see ever again. But that didn’t stop the disappointment from creeping in for the rest of the month.

Maybe there was a crumb of hope there that you’d turn up suddenly. He’d grown accustomed to these interactions with you, that he still imagined you walking in through those doors, flouncing in a skirt towards the backroom.

But you hadn’t. Thus, life at the video store returned to normal, much to his chagrin.

It was fun while it lasted, he thinks. The only regret he has was not taking it a step further with you. At the time, however, he saw it going in that direction. The momentum was building up, and soon it would have happened, he believed.

And now he’s spending another Friday night, bored and disinterested.

The evening rush passed through like normal. Connie and Reiner volunteered to stay behind the counter for the remainder of the night, so Jean took it upon himself to sort through new shipments of X-rated DVDs.

Jean squeezes into the backroom with the box in tow, letting it drop in a heap on the floor. He surveys the shelves, filled to the gills with DVDs and VHS tapes, an assortment of every genre of porn available. He has no clue how he’s going to fit any more videos in here.

The room is cramped, more akin to a walk-in closet than an average room. To save space, wired shelving had been mounted a while ago to display the videos for quick and easy selection. Because when it comes to porn, people do judge by the covers.

Though Jean doesn’t understand how anyone can properly look at them with the dim, warm lighting barely reaching every corner of the space. If anything, it’s the perfect room to stash away explicit videos while exploring the options under the veil of privacy.

Jean grabs a few DVDs from the box, looking for any available space on the shelves he can find. As he rearranges a few already on display, his eyes glaze over the covers with little interest.

The door clicks open.

“Oh!”

Oh.

There’s a flutter in Jean’s stomach to see you at the door. It’s a surprise after a few weeks of your absence, he’s unsure if it’s you or a mirage. And for once he’s left speechless, using that beat of silence to soak you in.

You’re wearing another dress, short-sleeved, with a cinched tie that displays a peek of your breasts. The dress is a little form-fitting despite the looser fabric, sitting high on your bare thighs as you shift foot to foot in low heels.

By some miracle, Jean’s composed. He waves a DVD (on blowjobs) in one hand, greeting you like normal. “Hey, long time.”

You laugh, breathy and stilted. There’s the flustered customer Jean’s been aching to see again. He couldn’t imagine better circumstances to reunite. Alone in the backroom where all the porn is stored away.

“I got a new job, and I’ve been training a lot on the weekends.” You rub your arm, a nervous habit, Jean assumes. It’s cute.

“That explains the dry spell.” The choice of words tumbles without thought. However, Jean doesn’t correct himself. On his part, there is some truth to that.

You shrug, smiling. “Yeah, I haven’t had much time to watch anything…It’s my first weekend off, so here I am.”

The air stagnates, the walls and shelves close in, Jean imagines drawing closer to you.

He brandishes the DVDs in hand again. “Help yourself. Got a couple more in today, and I’m trying to figure out where to stash them.”

Your lips open, but say nothing, turning your attention to the nearest shelf.

It’s the first time it feels awkward between you both.

It might be because it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. But Jean watches you with a sidelong stare, noticing how you stiff you are browsing the shelves.

It clicks in his head.

It’s very, very intimate in here. The proximity couldn’t be any smaller and Jean imagines that you’re used to being in the room alone, browsing with abandon.

You’re a little nervous and Jean finds it endearing.

So, he slinks into character of the dutiful video rental clerk. “Find anything you like?”

You shift a glance at him with a shake of your head. “Still looking.”

“Anything I can help you with?”

It’s a harmless offer given the circumstances of what you’re searching for. Porn or not, it is Jean’s job to help out a customer.

You relax a little, treading slowly with your words. “Something similar to the usual stuff I watch…” Your voice trails off, a revival of the little minx he remembers all those weeks ago.

Jean hums. “Right…the solo porn. Might have something in this box here. That your favorite kind to watch?” Jean gauges your reaction, he presses his lips together, gleeful to read the answer on your face.

You shift on your feet, finger slipping off the end of the shelf. “Sort of.” You laugh faintly. “Is that weird?”

Jean sniffs out the brush of nerves. It’s the green light he’s been dying for. “Of course not. Everyone has their kinks. You practice with them, don’t you?” He rifles through a stack without reading the covers.

But when he turns again, you’re the most flustered he’s ever seen. You stand rigid, hands playing with the hem of that short dress, unable to hold his gaze.

Jean could be deluding himself, but when you look up, they’re wide-eyed and glossy. If not for the shit lighting in here, he’d get a better look. Despite all that, Jean’s been around the block because you’re more obvious than you think you’re being, clenching your thighs together.

Plus, Jean’s no saint. He doubts you are too, not with your rental history. After weeks of your absence, he’s not quick to let you disappear again. He’s not going to hesitate. He’s going to see where this can go.

“That’s how we all learn right?” Jean dials up the tension, cautious not to let it simmer too hot just yet.

This gets you to breathe out a laugh, shoulders going lax. “You watch porn?”

“Sure, who doesn’t?”

You shrug. “My friends don’t really like it.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

Your raise a brow, and Jean’s sure you’re trying to hide a smile. Another laugh slips out of you, surprised and lighthearted. “Don’t know. They just don’t like it.”

Jean hums, contemplative, but not really. He couldn’t care less about their opinions. “Shame, they don’t sound as fun as you are.”

Amusement tucks into the corner of your lip as you tilt your head. “How do you know I’m fun?”

Jean smirks, confident and sure. “I can tell. Why else would you watch them?”

Maybe you’re a natural and don’t realize the way you bat your lashes just then has Jean’s heart skipping a beat. A new kind of tension thickens in the room as you pass him a look.

Jean blinks. If this is a bait you set out intentionally, Jean’s on the move, sidling closer to crowd your space.

“Doesn’t it make you want to experiment?” He leans down to capture your gaze. “What’s the point of these videos if it doesn’t inspire some sort of action, huh? You’d like that, right?”

You gulp, staring at him, suspense hanging like a shadow over your eyes. “Do you?”

Jean’s grin broadens, a hand ghosting your face. “Hell yeah…” Tipping up your chin, his voice trails off.

His senses are drenched in you. Your warmth mingles so close to his body, your shallow, bated breaths echoing in his ears. The floral scent of your perfume, so fragrant, it makes him dizzy. The same for your eyes, glossy with renewed desire, anticipation hanging by a thread. What’s missing is your taste.

So, he helps himself, whispering his thoughts against your lips. “I’m more than eager to…take some action with you right now.”

He kisses you gently, swallowing down his carnal urge for the moment, wanting to savor the plushness of your lips. You kiss him back with the same softness, melting into his presence.

It’s the nudge Jean accepts readily, widening the kiss; poking his tongue to cut through the seam of your lips.

Jean’s mouth waters, relishing in the candied sweetness on your tongue. “Ooh…you taste like sugar.” Jean deepens kiss to inhale your taste again.

Pressing up against your body, Jean leads you backwards until you’re pinned to the wall from his weight.

Your soft mewls stutter into a whine as Jean’s bulge catches on your front.

It’s cute that you let him take the wheel, following his lead. You go still as he takes your lip in his teeth gently. Jean enjoys being in command, it’s so innate in him. But he wants to know your own tricks, what gets you off other than these B-rated videos.

Pulling away, he admires the raise in your brows and tilt of your chin, like a doe waiting for guidance, Jean bristles.

“You touch yourself to these videos?”

Your lips clamp shut, pursing together. He waits and you nod slowly.

“Show me,” Jean husks. “Be a naughty girl and show me how you touch yourself.”

He doesn’t want to be too greedy, though he is, and the request is just as much for him as it is for you. The number of nights dreaming of you playing with yourself, soaking your own fingers with your slick, moaning, whining, crying out in ecstasy, Jean wants you to spoil him with that vision.

You’re flustered, tits heaving, he can see the pert nipples behind the fabric. He needs to work carefully, to coax you into it.

Thumbing your lip, he kisses your hairline. “Don’t be shy now, baby,” he teases. “I already know about the kinky shit you like, remember? Show me what they do in those videos. Let me see how you touch yourself.”

You peer up and the look you give him is better than anything he could have ever imagined. You lick your lips, taking a slow gulp. Your fingers toy with the ties of your bodice without undoing them.

Jean holds that minx-like stare of yours. “Get comfortable. It does get very stuffy back here.”

Your hand falls away, dragging one tie down. The neckline cinches tight for a moment, squeezing your tits together until the fabric loosens.

Jean’s eyes dip to your cleavage, bated breath held fast in his chest. The itch to tear the dress off is tempting, but it doesn’t compare to the brewing sexual tension. That suspense of getting to see you in a way that he’s dreamt of is none other. Jean would happily pause this moment just to bask in it for a little longer. Because like any good movie, it takes time, some build-up to get to the best part.

You tug and pull at the ties a few times, never looking away from Jean’s gaze. True to his earlier statement, Jean swears the room rises in heat, a fever prickling along his skin, waiting, waiting, and waiting, choking on the thickened tension.

Jean knows you can’t stand the wait either, because you lower the bodice, taking the cups of your bra in your fingers, and your tits are on full display.

The sight of your bare skin, blooming with goosebumps around the flesh, peaking at your nipples is both too much and not enough for Jean. He wants to touch you, suck on your tits until they’re wet and bruised. But he stops himself from doing either, because more than that right now, he needs to see how you touch yourself.

“Shit…That’s a beautiful rack,” he murmurs. “Prettier than all the fake tits on these DVD covers.”

Your chest rises in a sharp inhale and Jean watches in a daze, following your hands as they roam down your sides to slip under your dress.

You give him another one of those shy smiles, dragging your hands down. Cotton panties slide down your thighs, past your knees, and fall to your ankles. You step out of them, mindful not to get them caught in your heels as you kick them aside. With that stripped away, you gather the end of your dress.

This time, Jean can’t keep his hands to himself. He bunches up the fabric for you, lifting up your dress and groaning to finally see your pussy. “Fuck…every inch of you is fucking beautiful.”

Flattery curls the corner of your lips, spurring you into motion again. A hand drips to the center of your thighs while Jean watches.

His jaw falls loose, a breathy sound escaping his lips. Your fingers splay out your folds, barely gracing your clit. You like to tease yourself it seems, because you rub in a languid pace, inhaling as you press that bundle of nerves.

Jean hums with a nod. “Get yourself nice and warmed up, baby,” he says, gaze drowning in the sight of your pussy. He fists the dress tighter to contain himself.

You rub yourself slowly, low moans spewing forth. When they hitch, your legs widen; two fingers curl past your pussy lips and into your twitching hole.

You’re sensitive, he can tell. The more pressure you apply, your mouth forms that ‘O’ expression that’s been the center of his filthiest fantasies.

Jean presses you against the wall, face warm from the way your glossy eyes stare up at him.

You’re so much smaller like this, swallowed up by his shadow. Jean leans closer with his forearm, a cage to keep you to himself.

Meanwhile, you touch yourself as instructed, whines filling the air. Jean’s not sure where to keep his eyes: your needy face or your fingers touching yourself.

“Do you think about anything when you touch yourself?” He strokes your face with his knuckles, wanting to pick apart your lewd mind, certain that you have some of the wildest fantasies stirring in that pretty head of yours. “What do you think about?”

“I think of you.”

Jean freezes up, your confession replaying between his ears on loop. A heaven-sent answer.

You shy away then, hand going still. “I’m sorry – I –”

Jean grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. The worry flickers behind your gaze, overshadowed with curiosity. He kisses you, deep and rough, inhaling your moan, then pulls back to admire the moisture on your lips.

You make another noise of surprise when Jean seizes your wrist, taking your fingers in his mouth.

Tangy, sweet, tasting like perfection to Jean, he wants to have more of you.

Kisses shower your neck, your jaw, your lips, everywhere like falling stars. Jean can’t decide which part of you he wants most, never satisfied in one spot, and needing more at the same time. His lips pepper your throat, his facial hair nuzzling you there.

You laugh, curling your fingers into his shoulders. “Jean, that tickles.”

If you had thought that Jean would relent, you were mistaken. He couldn’t get enough, weeks of your absence has left him starved.

“Let me take it from here.” Jean levels you with a heady stare. His fingers push past your soft lips, he bites back a moan at the stroke of your tongue. “Drool on them. Make it messy."

Your tongue swirls, coating his fingertips with saliva that connect in a thin thread when Jean pulls his fingers free.

He catches your gulp, anticipation rolling through you like a chill.

Without preamble, Jean cups your pussy, hissing in delight to feel how wet you are. All this for him. Your pussy reacting not only to his touch but the thought of him. Pride spreads through his system like a drug, traveling to his aching cock.

He strokes you, finger sliding up the slit and catching at your apex. You gasp, legs spreading apart. Jean plunges a finger inside.

There’s a tightness that greets him, twitching at the contact. He massages your walls with dexterity. Your shaky breaths pour out and Jean eases another finger inside when he feels your body stretch and squeeze around his touch.

His gaze lowers to watch his fingers sink in and out of you, slippery and wet imagining how that’ll feel around his dick.

“Jean…”

Light brown eyes crawl up your body, raking over your bare tits. Leaning forward, his lips and teeth meet your hardened nipple.

You hiss from the added stimulation, pussy clenching around Jean’s fingers, he thrusts another deep inside of you while he laps at your breast. You breathe out his name again, grabbing onto the roots of his hair.

Jean growls, nipping at your flesh, curling his fingers, gathering more slick that makes him dizzy and pussy-drunk. He meets your eyes, soaking in your gaping mouth.

Your nails claw into his hair tightly, pussy twitching as Jean fingers you with fervor, swiping your clit hurriedly, a tremor moves from you to him, indicating your release is on the horizon.

Jean pulls back to gaze at you hard, giddy to capture the moment you fall apart. “Cum for me. Cum on my fingers.”

The image of you has Jean choking on his breath.

Your eyes roll back behind fluttering lashes, a long moan of his name wrapping around his ears. His mouth splits into a dazed grin when he feels your pussy twitch, soaking his fingers with your orgasm, that drip into his hand and down his wrist.

He steadies the pace of his fingers, basking in your pussy’s warmth until you slouch back against the wall, catching your breath.

He busies himself with cleaning up his fingers, smirking to catch you watching him with a sense of intrigue. Much like himself, Jean knows you’re a voyeur, the perfect match for him, and he leans close to purr into your lips.

“You make the prettiest face I have ever seen. All for me too.” He feels you smile into his lips, momentary surprise flashing through him when your arms enfold around his neck with more strength than he would have imagined.

It enthralls him even more when you trail a hand down his chest. It roams south, fingers splayed flat to drag along the muscles of his stomach that flex in response. Your touch continues to explore until you reach Jean’s belt.

Almost in askance, you pull at the buckle.

Jean breaks away from the kiss to lift a cocksure brow. “Need me to touch you more? My fingers not enough for that pretty pussy, you need me to fill you with my cock too?”

Jean’s loving every bit of this. Regardless of how painfully hard he is, Jean doesn’t mind delaying his gratification to tease you, coax you into taking some of the reins and beg him to fuck you.

You bite your lip, and there’s a pull at Jean’s belt, going loose.

“That’s it, baby. Don’t be shy. It’s all yours.”

Your fingers are clumsy anyways as you undo the buckle. Looking up, Jean encourages you with a smile, humming his approval when you reach for the fly of his jeans.

Again, you pause with another look to Jean. There’s a little more confidence there veiled with a coy smile. You drag his jeans and boxers down, freeing Jean’s cock with an exhale.

Jean holds back from kissing you again. That mouth of yours gaping in awe sends a spark of lightning straight to Jean’s dick. While Jean can be humble, he can’t deny feeling cocky, knowing that the size of his dick belongs in a porno.

And it fucking aches, angry and red at the tip, a thick vein wrapped around the base, pulsing with need. Jean strokes himself, feeling the weight of his dick in his hand, pent-up and hard.

You swallow. “Uh…wow…” Your gaze lifts up in a slow drag and all it takes is the exchange of one heated look and Jean kisses you again.

He grabs onto your thighs, sweeping you off your feet to spread you out. You take hold of his shoulders, locking your hands around his neck, bucking down to feel his dick.

“Fuck. I’ve been so ready for you for weeks.”

The tip of his dick nudges your folds apart. Pre-cum leaks from the contact with your pussy, mixing with its slick. Jean shudders from the skin-to-skin touch; eager to slide into you with abandon, but a part of him also wants to prolong this moment, to savor every stroke to memory.

Lifting you higher is effortless. He admires the way your body moves with his strength. He lines up with your pussy with a bated breath.

His gaze drips down in admiration, the excitement reaching the corners of his mouth. Your pussy’s so pretty, glistening like a treasure in the dim room. It’d look even prettier with his cum spilling out.

There’s a sharp twitch in his cock. He can’t wait anymore; he wastes no more time.

Pushing in, Jean’s eyes flutter. Your warmth is so tantalizing, so inviting, Jean doubts he’ll ever want to leave. The way your walls suck him in slowly, bit by bit, inch by inch, it’s the only sensation Jean needs to feel.

“How does that feel, baby?” Jean pushes forward, grunting at the clench around his length.

You’re speechless for a moment, like words are too difficult to string together, only verbalizing with another throb of your pussy. “I…I…like it.”

Jean breathes a strained laugh, unable to tear his eyes away from your face. You try to slink back, flustered, if not for Jean’s hold. It’s endearing as it is arousing to witness each layer of you, from fiendish to flustered, to innocent to debauched.

Jean presses deeper, a dark moan rushing out from his lips. Your walls are so tight around him, pulsing to keep him inside with a vice-grip and Jean can really start to feel you now, it makes his head spin.

“Let me fill the rest of you up then. Because I want you to fucking love it.”

True to his word, Jean pushes into you to the hilt.

The throbbing in your pussy is almost too much for Jean, he takes a moment to muster his patience, and for you to adjust to his size. He gives you an open-mouthed kiss, sloppy and greedy as he inhales your sounds of pleasure.

“Oh, I’m going to fuck you so good, these DVDs will be useless.” It’s a promise Jean wants to make good on.

You seem to take that as a signal, gripping onto Jean in anticipation, whimpering out his name.

Jean pulls out just until his tip ghosts your entrance, adjusting his hold on your hips, so that your knees drape over his elbows, bending you in such a pretty shape.

And in one deep plunge, he fucks into you.

Your tits spring in tandem with the buck of Jean’s hips. More goosebumps sprout from the peak of your nipples, marked and bitten from Jean’s teeth.

You moan out, mouth unhinging in a series of gasps. Jean beams, feeling the clench around his dick, fucking into that burning hot spot deep inside of you.

A hum catches between your pressed lips as Jean fucks into you with more fervor.

“What’s that, baby?” he teases, fucking into you at the same rapid pace. “Something you want to say? It’s too late to be shy…”

A squelch between your legs robs you of the chance to speak.

Jean’s brows raise with amusement. “Oh, your pussy’s trying to tell me something. You hear her? She says she loves getting fucked by me. Tell me, baby, is your pussy being honest?”

You crack a smile, pupils wide, a whine slipping out. “Yes…yes, Jean – just like that.”

He keeps fucking you like that, pressing you against the wall, paying no mind to the tremble of the nearby shelving or the few DVDs tumbling from their stacks.

Your head falls back against the wall, arms clawing at Jean’s shoulders, legs squeezing him closer. Jean didn’t think he could reach you any deeper than he does in that moment.

“You feel so fucking good.” He lifts you up higher, choking on your name. “You know how to take a cock, huh? You know how to take my cock, you filthy thing.” He teases, pounding into you with abandon. “This is what you’ve been thinking about, isn’t it?”

The more you clench around him, the more Jean babbles.

Your whimpers spill into the air with every well-angled thrust. You’ve lost your voice. “Mhm – mmph!”

Jean’s dick spasms, his ego has transcended, and nothing will ever bring him down from this moment. To know that you’ve fantasized about him while you watched those rentals, the same way he’s stroked himself, imagining the noises you’d make and the touch of your skin.

It’s pure bliss he’s in and he wants to chase the rest of it, gulp down every drop as he gets closer to euphoria.

“Let me feel you cum – let me feel you cum,” he chants, pumping harsher. “I want you – wanna feel this pussy throb for me. Show me that pretty face again when you cum, baby. Let me see those eyes roll back –” Everything is said so quickly, he’s desperate to feel you twitch around his dick, to replay that face you make.

And within a couple more strokes, your back arches in his hold, chest rising like a wave. Your eyes roll back again like it did before, accompanied with a gasp echoing in the backroom as you cum for the second time.

He grunts, thrusting into you, and he feels it, spilling his cum so deep inside of you, finally reaching that climax he’s wanted for so long.

You’ve fallen limp but Jean clings to your legs, voice strung tight with a low, satiated groan, reveling in every twitch of his nerves, buried deep in your pussy.

Slumped against the wall, dress bunched at your waist, lax in Jean’s arms, you’re a vision. An image he wants to imprint in his mind forever. You deserved be plastered on a DVD cover, a stunner with an A-list pussy.

Carefully, he sets you down on your feet. You cling onto him, arms wrapped around his neck, wearing nothing but a dizzy smile.

Jean could get used to this. Pressing forward, thumbs rubbing up and down your hips, Jean smirks. “Better than the movies.”

Your laugh breaks through the hot air. “I wouldn’t mind having more practice.”

Jean’s smirk widens with delight, unable to control his restraint, kissing you. “Stick around for thirty minutes, and I’ll be off the clock.”

You nod, accepting another kiss.

“Good,” Jean purrs, holding you close. “After, we can take it back to my place, yours, anywhere…for round two.” A kiss to your jaw. “Round three.” Another to your neck. “Four…”

Or maybe the next round will happen in this room, because neither you nor Jean can peel yourselves off the other.

In an ironic twist of fate, you’re tied together in a heap of sweaty limbs an image that belongs in its own porno.

;) . . .

The screen freezes, paused at the image of Jean’s back turned to the security camera as he holds onto you.

“Oh shit – how much do you think Jean will give us to keep this a secret?” Connie breaks the silence of the video store. The last few customers took off a while ago, and the store has been empty for the last hour.

During that time, he and Reiner did what they often did when it was empty, chill behind the counter doing nothing. Except tonight, they surveyed the security cameras only to discover the peep show happening in the backroom.

He turns to Reiner, wearing a devilish grin. “Scratch that. We need make a few of copies of this. They could be the next Pam and Tommy!” He grins wider, more ideas, no doubt flooding his mind as he scrambles for the store’s phone. “I got to tell Eren.”

He turns away, dialing up his friend, whooping and raving with excitement about what he just saw.

For Reiner, however, it’s a different kind of excitement that keeps his gaze fixed on the security footage. One that’s left him with a raging boner at seeing his coworker, Jean fuck a customer in the back, inspiring some of his own fantasies.

He clears his throat, throwing a look over his shoulder.

Connie’s oblivious, still prattling on the phone. Bless him.

Reiner sneaks away, not stopping until he approaches the back. He flits a look up at the sign and debates. But softs moans muffled behind the door are more than enough to convince him to turn the handle and step inside. ;D

#WHOAZA!!!!!!!#oh this was splendid #tens tens tens!!!!#🌀.aotreblogs

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