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bleubrri · 2 years

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۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ ᴛᴇꜱᴛ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ. ᴄᴀʀ ꜱᴀʟᴇꜱᴍᴀɴ!ᴊᴇᴀɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

༄ؘ contains: afab!reader, fem&black coded, swearing, petnames (angel, pretty girl), absolutely flawless car knowledge that everyone should tell nia is spot on, fingering, cunnilingus, car sex, vaginal sex, unprotected-ish sex (reader’s on birth control but no condom), creampie, begging, reader and jean being needy and desperate, a little spit, cervix fucking, cockwarming, dumbification.

༄ؘ wc: 4.3k🫠

༄ؘ a/n: not proofread

jean’s still a rookie on his probation period, but he’s quickly become the star of the Paradis branch.

trained under levi, his charisma, confidence and stellar smile has cars getting swiped up by anyone and everyone. he enjoys it, it’s invigorating, being able to persuade people into making such a commitment. customers trust him and he never steers them wrong. the branch manager erwin has personally voiced his confidence in the apprentice, even hinting at a permanent position in the next quarter. newly weds, first time car owners, new parents–– not to be cocky or anything, but he’s never encountered someone he can’t make a sale to.

that is until you walk in.

tight denim skirt the size of a goddamn belt that draws attention to your plush thighs, fuzzy pastel crop top with matching lilac nails and chunky white platforms that elongate your legs. jean thinks the only thing you might be missing is a halo.

his pen hovers over the documents he’s signing as he stares at you making your way towards his desk. there’s an audible sound to his gulp that he internally cringes at and he blinks up at you as you shuffle on your feet. you smell sweet, like vanilla and candyfloss, and he finds himself unable to pay attention to anything except the plush of your glossed lips. would they taste just as sweet as you smell? would they be soft against his own, or dragging over his skin? he licks his lips and tries to swallow down the lust that he threatens to choke on— how the fuck is he supposed to focus long enough to sell you a car?

your mouth’s moving–– shit you’re talking to him––and he forces himself to meet your eyes and clears his throat.

“sorry–– what, uh, what was it you’re looking for?”

you smile, and he loves the way your cheeks round as your lips pull up. car models that he thinks would suit you run through his brain: the new mini resolute edition was cute, maybe the mercedes GLA-Class or a tesla if your budget allowed for it. he was prepared to offer you a few other suggestions if you were just browsing.

“a C8 chevy corvette.” you say without hesitation.

his brows shoot up in surprise, “a stingray?” a woman after his own heart.

“that’s the one.” you beam, flashing him your pearly teeth. he can almost feel them grazing his pulse and nibbling his earlobe and sinking into the sensitive meat of his thigh. with the heavy way you’re looking at him you’d think his wildly unprofessional thoughts were seeping out of his brain and diffusing into yours.

jean clears his throat again and gathers the papers on his desk, trying to shove them into a drawer while not tearing his eyes from you, “i can show you the models we carry if you’ll follow me?” he rises from his desk and swears your eyes flick over his tall figure.

“that’d be great, thank you.” you say, tucking a cute little curl behind your ear.

he gestures for you to follow him around the back of his office and leads you to the warehouse for the luxury cars. the gentle echo of your platforms on the polished floors bounces off of the high ceilings and exaggerates the awkward silence between you. it’s at least a few more minutes of walking before the chevrolet section, though at this rate it feels like it’s shaping up to be a two day hike’s worth of stiff tension.

jean finds himself wanting to ask you questions that’re entirely too intimate for a stranger he’ll probably have the pleasure of interacting with for an hour or so, and so fights the urge to ask your favourite flower or preferred restaurants, instead choosing to cling to his professionalism, “any thoughts on the style you’d like yet? or do you have a colour in mind––”

before he can even finish his sentence jean sees your eyes light up as you nod feverently.

“god, i’m so excited!” you gush, “y’know when a cars just sexy? I saw the racing version on the speedway and thought i’d check out the sports models— double wishbone suspension, torque at over five thousand resolutions per minute and zero to sixty in 2.9 seconds? i mean come the fuck on.” you’re grinning as you babble about the cars schematics in a level of detail that takes the salesman completely aback. you’re listing the pros and cons of the zo6 performance version when your smile falters and you glance at jean’s surprised expression.

“sorry,” you laugh wearily and crack your knuckles, “i probably sound like a know-it-all don’t i? you literally sell cars––”

“no, no.” jean cuts you off and reassures you, “it’s.. refreshing actually. usually people have no idea what they’re looking for. you really know your stuff.” he smiles as you approach the arch that marks the beginning of the chevrolet section. “you’re doing half my job for me.”

his compliments seem to put you more than at ease as you give him a honeyed smile, “well we can’t have that. gonna have to find a way to put you to work, pretty boy.” the wink that you flash him makes his teeth crack under the pressure that he grits them with. his dress shoes squeak against the marble floor as he falters in his step, but when you catch a glimpse of the first car–– an orange coloured convertible–– you don’t seem to notice as your excitement steals your attention away from him.

jean suddenly feels uncomfortably hot despite the heavily air-conditioned warehouse. you’ve strode ahead and are standing in front of the rows of brightly coloured sports cars, eyes flickering here and there, taking in every detail. and when you bend down to observe the royal blue coupe that has its hood popped for display, jean feels his dick twitch in his slacks at the flash of your lacy, violet panties. saliva pools in his mouth at the outline of your pussy straining against the fabric.

“what’cha think?”

“I–– what?” he asks, readjusting his tie and forcing his eyes to meet yours as you look over your shoulder. you have to know what you’re doing to him.

“gorgeous colour hm?” you ask, and he’s not entirely sure you’re talking about the car. he nods quickly, choosing to stay silent in fear of choking on his spit.

you chuckle and seem to take mercy on him, standing up and continuing down the line of cars. “it’s a little obnoxious though.”

“aren’t all sports cars inherently obnoxious?”

you laugh at the bluntness of his quip. “hey, you’re supposed to be trying to sell me one of these!” he’d probably sell you his soul to hear you laugh again. “still, maybe something a little more subtle. i think i’ll know it when i see it.”

the next 10 minutes are spent with you musing over the perfect colour for your dream car, and jean trying to ignore now good your ass looks in that skirt. you’ve gotten about two thirds of the way through the cars on offer when you do a double take and your eyes land on a carbon grey hardtop convertible nestled in the corner.

“oh, yeah.”

your eyes are almost glittering as you take in the vehicle, your fingers hovering over the hood as if you’re afraid you’ll break this 500 horsepower monster of a car. there’s something endearing about how unfiltered you are, how unbridled you show your clear passion for cars.

“i think we have a winner.” he says, and you nod, grinning silently. he opens the driver’s side door and gestures for you to get in, telling you he’ll be–– “right back with the keys and we can take it for a test drive.” before jogging back towards his office to log into the system which car is being taken out and fetching the keys from levi.

his superior’s brows raise as he retrieves the keys for jean, “this for the girl that came in?”

“yes sir.”

levi hums lowly, “play your cards right, kirstein, this is a big one. treat her nice.”

“uh, yes sir.” is all that jean is able to offer in response. he supposes he never thought about the fact that you’re set on purchasing a hundred thousand dollar car with no persuasion on his behalf.

the shorter man just rolls his eyes and shoves the keys into his apprentice’s hand, seating himself back at his desk. levi was clearly encouraging jean to finalise the sale, it would definitely be enough to secure himself as a permanent member of the sales team, but jean can’t help but hear his superior’s words echo in his mind as he wanders back to you.

treat her nice.

god, he’d treat you more than nice if you’d let him.

as he ducks into the corner where the car is, he’s met with the sight of you fumbling around your seat, bottom lip jutted out in frustration and a frown ghosting across your pretty features.

“everything okay?” he asks.

apparently you’d only just registered his reappearance, “oh! yeah just.. tryna figure out how to adjust the seat so i can actually drive this thing.” you huff.

jean chuckles, and before he can really think about it he’s ducking his head into the car and hovering over you, reaching his hand to the button down the side and shifting your seat back a few inches. your intoxicating scent invades his senses again and he’s so close that he can feel the warmth from your breath fan over his lips when he turns his head to face you.

“better?” he asks, his mouth a whisper away from your own. your eyes don’t leave his lips when you nod and reply, “better.” not that he would notice given that his own line of vision is also fixated on yours. it takes everything in him not to indulge in a kiss, pulling away to shut your door and walk around to the passenger side.

he tries to sharpen his words enough to cut through the thick tension, his brain on autopilot as he describes the interior of the car and it’s technology in his best salesman voice. he rounds off his speech by going over the hotspot and bluetooth features.

“so, yeah, feel free to play something while you drive. i want you to be as comfortable as possible.” that last part probably wasn’t needed, but he couldn’t help himself.

there’s a slight smirk on your lips as your fingers tap across your phone screen to open spotify. you select a playlist and jean finds himself laughing at your choice for the first song. shut up and drive bursts through the speakers and you’re grinning as you hold out your hands for the keys. jean rolls his eyes at you playfully and lets his hand linger in yours for a second too long, revelling at how small they look in his own.

you twist the keys in the ignition and the car roars to life. you glance over at him, unable to contain the grin on your face, and he directs you out of the warehouse and to the main gates. the chorus of the song begins to pick up as you cross the threshold out of the branch, revving the engine and laughing giddily.

“what happened to not being obnoxious?” jean asks, raising an eyebrow.

“sue me.” you say, manoeuvring the car past the gates. “let’s have some fun.”

the branch is in a pretty remote location, just off of a large motorway that’s often pretty sparse. it doesn’t take long before you’re merging onto the main road and letting your foot fall heavier onto the accelerator. there’s a crescendo to the hum of the engine as the needle of the dial shoots to the right, the digital indicator of your speed on the screen blinking with numbers as you rapidly approach the speed limit. it’s mid afternoon and the roads are pretty clear, so jean sits back and watches you enjoy the perks of what he’s sure is soon to be your car.

after the adrenaline rush of zipping down the road at an impressive speed begins to wear off, you exit the motorway and begin weaving through the backroads, getting a real feel of what the cars like to drive at more normal speeds.

you tap the screen on the console to open the sunroof and the breeze immediately has your hair wafting around you. jean is lost in trying to pinpoint exactly what scents your hair products have to contain (coconut? and…maybe bergamot?) when he realises that you’re about to pass the parking lot of the nearby shipping company.

“hey why don’t you pull in here?” he gestures to the sign, “it’s closed on sundays but you could still try parking up, just to get a feel for it?”

you nod in agreement and turn the wheel, entering the vastly empty carpark. a new song begins to play just as your backing into a space, often by the weeknd in bold lettering across the console screen. he quickly decides to make conversation as you turn off the car.

“so, thoughts?” he asks, patting the dashboard.

“it’s perfect.” you say, and jean tries to focus on your words instead of the explicit nature of the song playing around you.

“i really appreciate your help, jean.” you say, bringing your hand over to rest on his fucking thigh and squeezing. his eyes flick to yours and he stutters out how he–– “barely did anything to help.” licking his lips.

a breathy, amused little hum escapes you and you catch your bottom lip between your teeth. your hand is still resting on his thigh as you lean onto him, whispering,

“still, i’d love to show you how grateful i am.” as your hand creeps higher up his thigh. he groans as you palm at his clothed cock, and his breath hitches when your lithe fingers stroke over his concealed tip. his blunt nails are digging into the leather of the seat and he’s going to ruin your goddamn car if he doesn’t get his hands on you.

he grabs your wrist and for a split second your heart drops and you think you’ve gravely misread the signals. you’re about to start apologising profusely when he brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles.

“please,” his lips trail over your palm, “god, please let me touch you.” he asks, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

and that’s all it takes for the tension to snap.

your lips crash into his and your hands find their way into the hair at the nape of his neck. you’re not close enough for jean’s liking, and even with his brain foggy with desire he seems to communicate his needs semi-effectively, his long arms circling around your waist until his palms rest on the back of your thighs, coaxing you to clumsily climb over the centre console and onto his lap. he groans into your mouth when you catch his bottom lip between your teeth and roll your hips to grind down onto the growing tent in his pants. he doesn’t care about hiding his eagerness as he chases your mouth when you pull away, making a laugh bubble in your chest. he settles for latching onto your neck, determined to suck a mark deep enough to match the purple of your panties.

“you don’t wanna–– mmph–– move to the back?” you manage as he sinks his canines into a particularly sensitive spot along the column of your throat.

“in a minute..” he mumbles against your skin, preoccupied with getting his first taste of you. he wants to savour it, but you’re offering yourself up to him on a silver fucking platter and he’ll be damned if he isn’t going to indulge to his hearts content. he lets himself be greedy, sliding a hand under your shirt to graze your nipple through your bra with the pad of his thumb until it perks under his touch. his other hand wanders beneath your skirt, pushing the denim up to your hips. intense brown eyes meet yours as jean discovers that you’ve practically soaked through the fabric of your panties. his touch is gentle, exploratory over your covered folds as he applies just enough pressure to your clit to provide some relief.

“you clearly enjoyed all that teasing you were doing hm?” he mutters, watching your eyes fall shut as you grind against his fingers. he supposes he wasn’t really expecting an answer, choosing to focus on pulling more infatuating little noises from you. the fruits of his labour are music to his ears when he pushes your panties aside and dips a long finger into your dripping cunt and you sing for him. he runs the pad of his finger along your satin walls and brushes against that sensitive spot inside you, making your head fall onto his shoulder as you shiver in pleasure. he presses his lips to your temple as he slides in a second appendage, the tightness of your cunt making him release a broken moan.

“d’you know how perfect you are?” he asks, rhythmically thrusting his digits in and out of your sweltering core. his large palm cups your entire pussy and you mindlessly grind against the heel of it, feeling the telltale coil in your stomach tightening.

“you’re like a fucking angel.” he breaths, curling his fingers to bring you closer to your high. whimpers float into his ears and his brain feels like it’s been steeped in liquid oxy. you manage to lift your head from the crook of his neck to seek out the heat of his mouth. jean runs his tongue along your bottom lip and your mouth parts for him, to which he responds with immediately sucking on your tongue. he drinks down your moans that taste like heaven, delights in your mewls that are doused in ecstasy.

he could cum like this. your thighs caging in his hips, knuckle deep in your cunt and dizzy with arousal. the strain in his pants is becoming harder to ignore, but jean would rather be struck down from the divine powers above than miss the opportunity to make you cum right now. it doesn’t take much longer either, a few more calculated pumps of his fingers and sinful whispers in your ear and you blossom for him, pussy clenching round his digits as he works you through your orgasm. your chest’s still heaving when he retracts his hand and brings it to his lips, gossamer strands of your slick melting like honey on his tongue. it’s such an erotic sight— his hair a little mussed and eyes scrunched closed in bliss as he moans around his fingers at the taste of you.

you already feel fucked out, but you’re eager to feel more of him. jean seems to be on the same page as he delves back in for a bruising kiss. you can taste your essence mixing with the sweet taste of his mouth. he pants against your lips, resting his forehead on yours.

“please let me fuck you. let me–– fuck–– i wanna be inside you. wanna feel your sweet little pussy.” his voice is hoarse and laced with desperation and it has you clenching around nothing in anticipation.

you’re nodding eagerly, slurring out “backseat.” against his lips. he fumbles for the door handle as you slide off of his lap and climb across the console and through the middle of the front seats.

in an instant your back meets the plush leather and jean’s tall frame is crawling on top of you. the back door slams shut as your lips reconnect, but it’s a brief reunion as he positions himself between your thighs. you whine in protest, trying to cup his jaw and bring him back to you, but he peppers a sloppy trail of kisses along your inner thigh, whispering, “just a taste, angel.” as he watches in awe as a string of your arousal tethers you to the fabric as he slides your panties past your ankles. his eyes roll back when his tongue slides past your entrance, the heady scent of your arousal and perfect friction from your landing strip making pre leak from his tip uncontrollably.

oh yeah he could definitely cum like this. in fact, his balls are starting to tighten as he licks you clean. you’re writhing underneath him and he has to keep his palms firmly on your hips to keep you from bucking them.

“jean, please.” you whimper, and it’s so full of adoration that he can’t possible deny you any longer. his tie is already hanging loosely, only needing a slight tug from your nimble fingers to fall to the floor. you’re undoing the buttons of his shirt to expose his toned abdomen while he fiddles to undo the buckle of his belt and shove his slacks down to his knees. he shoves his boxers down while you pull your top over your head and your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, mushroom coloured tip with a slit that glistens with pre and full, heavy balls that are just waiting to be sucked on. not to mention he’s fucking hung.

still, you don’t waste any time, wrapping your legs round his waist and gliding your slick folds along his length.

“shit–– are you ready?” he asks and you don’t hesitate to answer, “god, yes.” running your hands up his chest and grazing over his nipples, making him shudder.

he’s slow to sheathe himself inside you, every inch of him puncturing your rings of muscle with a delicious stretch that has you mewling. your thighs are trembling once his hips are flush with yours and you lock you ankles around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back. he gives a few experimental rolls of his hips and circles your clit with the pad of his thumb to try and put you at ease. you melt underneath him and your moans synchronise behind the tinted glass as he begins to move.

he sets a pace that has you clenching and groaning, digging your manicured nails into the thin fabric of his shirt. “there you go, there you go that’s it.” he says, pleased that he was able to relax you. your hips lift off of the seat to try and meet his thrusts, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin harmonising with your playlist that continues to play in the background.

you’re so lost in pleasure that the leather beneath you starts to feel like clouds. jean seems to sense it, lowering his head to kiss along your cheeks. “you gonna let me do the work pretty girl? let me make you cum.” he breaths. you’re convinced that if your head lolled to the side you’d start drooling, so you have no qualms in letting him take the reigns.

gently, he untangle your ankles from behind him and throws them over his shoulders. his palms are warm as they splay across the backs of you thighs, and you almost scream his name when he continues to move, the new angle allowing his fevered tip to brush against your cervix with each thrust. the delicate curve of his shaft makes it feel like he’s in your fucking throat and tears threaten to spill over your lashline.

you watch with glassy eyes as jean cranes his neck and somehow manages to spit directly on your clit, pulling back the hood and smearing it until the puffy little bundle of nerves glistens with his saliva. with the work of his expert fingers and sinfully deep thrusts of his sharp hips, you’re coming undone. your cunt clamps down on him and he very nearly crashes over the edge with you.

“shit, shit––” he swears, beginning to pull out of your dripping sex. it startles him to feel your ankles in an iron lock around his waist once more.

“pill. pill.” you’re mumbling. “‘m on the pill, it’s fine. please jus’–– inside, inside jean, please.” he doesn’t even get a second to appreciate your adorable babbling before his eyes are rolling back and his dick twitches in red hot pleasure, releasing hot ropes of his seed into the depths of your cunt. he surprises himself with how much he cums, painting your walls in a thick white and letting a strained groan slip out of his mouth at the sight of it dribbling from your hole onto the dark leather. the scent of sex, the black ice air freshener dangling from the mirror and your lingering sweetness fills the car and jean doesn’t think he’s ever experienced something so mouthwatering.

he’s not quite ready to leave the comforting heat of your core just yet, cautiously resting his weight on top of you. you seem to like it, wrapping your arms around him and placing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. it’s so tender, so intimate, that jean finds his face heating up, as if he’s not got his softening dick inside of you. you’re nuzzling into his neck and mumbling something that he can’t make out.

“what’s that, angel?” he asks, determined to make the highly appropriate nickname stick.

“said i’m not gonna be able to drive this car without thinking about you now.”

maybe it’s the post orgasmic bliss that has his mouth moving before he can think. “i can fuck you somewhere else if that’d help?”

you laugh, a wholesome, hearty laugh that pulls at his heartstrings and makes him smile.

“i’m serious!” he grins, kissing along your jawline. “we’ve gotta go back and get your paperwork sorted anyway..” he’s only half serious, expecting you to giggle and brush him off, so his heart stutters when you answer.

“okay.” you say, brushing the hair sticking to his forehead back.

“wait really?”

“definitely.” you smile, leaning in to peck at his lips. “one condition though.” you mumble against him.

“anything.” he whispers and god does he mean it.

“you let me take a few more laps first.”

he chuckles and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, returning to the sweetness of your mouth. “sold.”

reblogs are appreciated!!<3

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