don't let the gorgeous laugh and sunshine eyes fool you- he's a dickhead. you're constantly going back and forth, banter soaring over other peoples heads to smack each other right where it hurts best.
and when i say 'hurts best', i don't mean worst- i mean the best. subtle, intelligent innuendos that leave your ears tingling and clit throbbing between your legs- because he knows what does it for you- and if you can dish some of his poison back, he's smitten.
"i like the- the uhhh-..." he gestures above his head, referencing the lazy space buns you put your hair in to keep the curl out your face, allowing you to see the painting you were working on.
"yeah, those. you look good! like my personal intergalactic cum dump" he grins, and despite the dorkiness of it all, you folded over his gaming desk all the same. moaning and clawing at the surface until you leaked his seed.
the next time you wore them would be out with friends. karaoke night, to be exact. and despite it slipping your mind (which is obvious because his hungry eyes did nothing to stop you from insisting your attendance) jean vividly recounted the evening and did his best to inconspicuously get you both outta there to recreate the scene.
it started with annie's passing compliment.
"they're outta this world!" he'd add, laughing with the group when connie drunkenly boo's him. then, the cheeky fucker turned to his best friend and opened a discussion about aliens. fucking aliens. and connie indulged him, because who doesn't want an alien girlfriend?
eren, boisterous as ever, slaps his two cents in there and got the whole team going, passionately discussing whether three tits on an alien would be ethical or better yet- practical- "what would you dream alien look like?" armin asked, leaning back in his chair.
jean, feigning thought, took his time to describe something tall, with a little tummy and the same shape of your figure. he goes on about how he wouldn't even mind keeping it around the house- hypothetically- like his own personal intergalactic cum dump.
the table roars over the music and again, the discussion is picked up out of his hands and tossed into someone else's lap. you, on the other hand, are glaring. not because he wants a hypothetical alien girlfriend (who DOESN'T) but because he slyly took the spitting image of you from that wednesday past and undressed you down to blue skin and thigh highs in-front of his team....
jean cocks his brow and grins over the rim of his brandy, bringing the hand thrown over the back of the booth to gesture lazily above his head. you're bewildered, flushed and horny.....as fuck
finally mouthing a simple phrase that he'd been dying to hear since you got in the car.
GOING INSANE GOING INSANE GOING INSANE
INTERGALACTIC CUM DUMP ???? YES PLEASE WTFFF AAAAAA
