older alpha! jean kirstein has always occupied my mind ever since i discovered omegaverse. love how gentle he would be around his omega. he would be the gentlest, the most patient alpha you'd ever meet. he would LOVE courting you, taking care of you, and be so protective of you like a true alpha. would be obsessed with your scent. would be obsessed with you wrapped in his scent. would want to have a big family with you.
better if you've never really been with any alphas before. jean would go crazy about it. sure, some random alphas you chose to help go through your heats, but no, you've never dated an alphas before. he'd daydream about this all day: being your first actual alpha, knotting you as your alpha, fucking you through every single heat you go through as your alpha. he'd like it if you can't ever live without his knot ever.
or maybe i'm just pushing the idea of alpha! jean being a bit of a yandere here. after meeting you, he doesn't think he could live without you, ever. and he wants that for you too, if you have him. you have to, right? who could say no to a big puppy like that?
im usually super against cheating tropes but like im currently having dirty thoughts about cheating like imagine you and coworker jean both are in weird places in your relationships like your boyfriend constantly berates you and is kind of verbally abusive towards you and jean's girlfriend is cheating on him. he's not sure but he thinks she is. okay. okay. you're so attracted to jean but you're not the type of person who would do it but jean treats you so good so gently and the way he looks at you— gosh the way he looks at you. some people draw the cheating line at sex. well, if there's no penetration, then it's not cheating right? right?? right...?
so maybe one night when you're at the bar after work with all your colleagues you hide yourself at the very end of the corner and jean sits next to you. you're complaining about your partners again. jean's sure that his girlfriend is cheating on him, 100%. you scrunch your nose and tell him about the nasty things your boyfriend told you this morning before you left for work. you laugh at yourself pathetically because you are and you feel jean's hand lingering near your face so when you look up at him, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
and he's looking at you like that again. his eyes filled with a mix of pain, hurt, longing, yearn, need. your heart skips a beat there.
you dont remember how you ended up in the back seat of the taxi all over each other, not really. just small smooches, heavy breaths all over mixed with the occasional 'we shouldn't do this' every few minutes.
oh well, you couldn't care less. for now, at least.
and when the cab reaches your shabby pathetic apartment that your boyfriend freeloads off, you tell jean you don't want to leave. jean squeezes your hand tight and kisses you one more time.
"i'll see you tomorrow at work," he whispers against your lips. "sleep tight."
your tummy feels warm. you get out of the cab.
inside your apartment, your boyfriend's drunk again. beer bottles piling by the corner of the living room. he stinks.
your phone lights up in your hand. it's jean. you suppress a smile. you try.
you text him back in the shower, making sure the bathroom door is locked. you're wrapped in a towel when your boyfriend smacks on the door.
he cracks an unhinged smile when he sees you. he grabs your waist and pull you in, kisses you with those stinky lips.
but all you can think of is jean. how he kissed you in the back of the taxi, how he touched you— so carefully and gently like you're something that might break if he went too hard. you melt into his arms thinking he is jean.
you'll be able to enjoy it more that way.
"you're wetter," he huffs against your mouth. "missed me, slut?"
your boyfriend pushes his tip against your throbbing pussy.
you might be going crazy, because you see jean and only jean in front of you. you hear him, you feel him, you see him. your heart's going so fast you think it's going to trigger a heart attack.
but you couldn't bring yourself to say his name, and you can't, anyway. that'd be weird. should you feel guilty about it? you don't, but should you?
sex hasn't felt this good in a very long while. you imagine jean caressing you, fucking you slow, kissing you soft. you moan at the idea of that. but jean wouldn't be that rough with you. jean wouldn't spend five minutes eating you out. jean wouldn't chase his high alone. he'd make you cum over and over again before even fucking you.
he'd treat you so good.
still, you came once. that's better than before.
the next morning at work, you see jean and you blush a little. he got you a cup of drink, just the way you liked.
you know it's totally unprofessional, but you can't resist the urge to follow him up to the rooftop during lunch break.
jean is smoking there. he puts it out the moment he sees you, and sprays his mouth fresh.
you sit beside him, offering half of the sandwich you made this morning.
he pats your head and takes it.
"really good." jean gulps down the last of it with water.
you hum contently.
jean doesn't really know what to do except watching you finish your half of the sandwich. and suddenly his brain flies back to last night.
he turns away, covering his face with his hand.
because he totally didn't go back to his place and fuck his fist into oblivion, purely thinking about kissing you in the back of the taxi earlier. and he got a few rounds out of that.
his relationship with his girlfriend is dead. long dead. they haven't been intimate for who knows how long. jean only sees her three times a week, if he's lucky. maybe he's just trying to prove himself wrong. and maybe he should stop doing that a long while ago. because if he did, he would have noticed you earlier. then maybe you wouldn't be stuck in this situation.
you notice the tip of his ears are turning concerningly red.
you reach out to jean. he turns around and hugs you tight. his hand cups the back of your head protectively.
"sorry." he mumbles into your hair.
"for?" you ask.
jean doesn't answer.
the opening of the rooftop door tears the two of you apart. you take the report you took with you earlier and start talking about it with jean.
he stares at you for a bit before chuckling.
"we're not doing anything," he leans into you, whispering. "you can relax."
i may just be a bit obsessed with jean kirstein and pitch perfect at the same time so what if you joined the barden bellas during your first year and you know how there's this rule that bellas don't sleep or have sexual relations with the treblemakers? well you might be in very big trouble.
you first see jean at the aca-initiation night, leaning against the stone edge of the fountain, his posture relaxed but impossible to ignore. he is laughing with some guys, until his eyes meet yours and decided to approach you. he stops literally in front of you, close enough for you to see the golden flecks in his pupils.
"hey." his voice low and easy.
you reply back. you watch him as he tilts his head like a cat, studying you.
"you're new?"
you laugh a bit. "yes. bella, actually. is it that obvious?"
his lips curl into a lazy smile. "everyone else is having fun. you look a bit too nervous to be having fun."
when he asks why you're here, you tell him it's peer pressure.
"same." he takes a sip of his drink.
"peer pressure?" you ask him back. "you? being peer pressured?"
"i know. tragic, right?" he furrowed his brows like a puppy. you laugh, for real this time.
he sticks out his hand.
"i'm jean."
you take his hand and tell him your name.
the handshake lingers longer than it should have.
you don't really remember how the rest of the conversation went, only his captivating honey eyes and the way he smooth talked to you all night. you remember laughing, genuinely, at his self deprecating jokes. you remember him being a good listener throughout the night. and you definitely remember the way his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you in when someone was about to drunkenly knock into you.
"careful." jean murmurs into your ear.
his arm doesn't move right away. and you're suddenly very aware of how warm his body is.
"how long did you say you'd been at Barden again?" you ask.
"a while." jean shrugs while letting you go.
"very helpful."
he grins, taking your hand in his.
"i try to be."
the next thing you remember is knowing the way his lips feel against yours by the hidden corner of the plaza. he'd told you not to worry about anyone, especially the the bellas. no one's watching here. so you kiss him properly. his tongue tangling with yours, your hands fisting his hair.
back at his dorm, jean makes you straddle him and kiss him for hours, his hands exploring the rest of your body like you've never been touched before. he lets you suck on his fingers (maybe to quiet you down) as he plays with your cunt. jean would look at you with those teasing, almost pitying eyes all night whenever you whine into him every time he thrusts into you.
jean whispers in your ear he loves it.
the next morning at the bella house, someone is kicked out. for, well, sleeping with one of the treblemakers last night. you didn't realize they're taking it so seriously.
you shrug. you didn't sleep with one, anyway. that's what you think.
until aubrey does a full on presentation on every single treblemaker, including jean, the current head of the treblemakers.
im usually super against cheating tropes but like im currently having dirty thoughts about cheating like imagine you and coworker jean both are in weird places in your relationships like your boyfriend constantly berates you and is kind of verbally abusive towards you and jean's girlfriend is cheating on him. he's not sure but he thinks she is. okay. okay. you're so attracted to jean but you're not the type of person who would do it but jean treats you so good so gently and the way he looks at you— gosh the way he looks at you. some people draw the cheating line at sex. well, if there's no penetration, then it's not cheating right? right?? right...?
so maybe one night when you're at the bar after work with all your colleagues you hide yourself at the very end of the corner and jean sits next to you. you're complaining about your partners again. jean's sure that his girlfriend is cheating on him, 100%. you scrunch your nose and tell him about the nasty things your boyfriend told you this morning before you left for work. you laugh at yourself pathetically because you are and you feel jean's hand lingering near your face so when you look up at him, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
and he's looking at you like that again. his eyes filled with a mix of pain, hurt, longing, yearn, need. your heart skips a beat there.
you dont remember how you ended up in the back seat of the taxi all over each other, not really. just small smooches, heavy breaths all over mixed with the occasional 'we shouldn't do this' every few minutes.
oh well, you couldn't care less. for now, at least.
