#jean fic

[rhadamanthes]

Leaving you hanging dry Jean Kirschtein x reader

word count : 2.1k

warnings : Incorrect use of dryer, oral sex fem receiving, pet names, voyeurism, unprotected sex, mention of cheating, this takes place in my arranged mariage AU

author's note : happy birthday Jean ;p this can be read as a stand alone but here is part one in case you want to read it too

"Babe ? Where are you ?" Jean's voice calls from the front door

"Over here !" you yell from the laundry room.

The stairs creak under your boyfriend's steps and you turn your head to greet him. 

"Now, that's not a sight I'm used to" he giggles watching you fill the washing machine with another load of dirty clothes. 

You give him a nasty stare at the comment.

"I made a deal with Eren: He takes care of the maintenance guy and I... do this" you say, closing the porthole.

"My baby is scared of the stranger and his tools?"

"Very" you pout exaggeratedly, standing on your feet to kiss him. Jean grabs the back of your thigh, making you sit on the empty dryer.

"We're still on for movies Friday ?" he asks, relocating his hands on your hips. 

"Yup" you nod, caressing his hair, taking your time to admire his features. Sharp golden eyes never leaving your form. The lack of lighting in this room makes his hair appear darker than they are, it suits him you think, his thin eyebrows too. How is he still so tall when you're sitting on that stupid machine ?  Your hands travel down to his stubble and you scratch lightly,  his eyes closes, relishing in the feeling. He's so handsome, and so close it almost makes you blush. Without opening his eyelids Jean leans in for a kiss. 

Your lips meet in a slow almost torturous dance, naturally your arms crosses behind his neck ushering him closer. Jean moans in your mouth, guiding your hips to make you grind on the flat surface resting under you. The textile of your shorts catches your clit and your back arches, you're getting turned on. 

"I want you " he whispers against your lips. The urgence in his tone makes you squeeze your thighs. 

"I'm all yours" you answer, biting his pumped lips.

Wasting no time, Jean pepper kisses down to your crotch, yanking your thigh forward he now has proper access to your pussy, he is on his knees, body resting against the dryer. Quickly gets rid of your shorts and panty, admiring the sleek already adorning the material. 

"I'll never get enough of this" he says nose dipping in your clothes.

You gasp at his behavior. It's crude but it's exciting, the way your scent drives him crazy makes you feel in control. Your lacy underwear lay flat in his hand as he now laps at it like a dog.

"Jean! I'm right in front of you" you nudge him with your foot, feeling frustrated, you want his tongue on your skin not on some piece of cloth.

"I know, and you're fussy too, something happened with your husband ?" he asks, golden eyes boring into yours you know he won't indulge you before he has an answer.

Heat rises to your cheeks, you kept your relation with Eren cordial despite the fact that you saw him naked, and that he came inside of you but that's a detail. It's been hard to act normal around him when you can still picture him perfectly naked in your mind. Nevertheless you never made a move that could make him think you want him, you owe Jean that and yourself too. But your needs have been hard to keep at bay. 

"No." you mumble, shaking your head left to right.

"Good girl, I guess that calls for a reward hm ? I know how you get when you don't have your daily orgasm" a smirk grows on his face before he attaches his lips to your clitoris, sucking it in his warm mouth.

The obscene noises of your wet cunt fills the room, Jean arms are locked  around your thighs, hands pushing your ass towards him, pressing you cunt deeper in his face.

A relieved sigh escapes your lips, Jean words still float in your mind, he got you used to a certain standard and yes these days you were on edge because of the lack of his personal treatment. His tongue melting against your bundle of nerves makes you forget all about it, he knows your body so well. Closing your eyes, your head falls back in pleasure.

For a split moment you don't feel his tongue on you anymore, ready to complain you open your eyes when the dryer comes to life under your thighs, sending vibration through your whole body.

"Fuck" you look a Jean with wide eyes, a proud smirk on his lips while amusement is lingering in his eyes. 

"Tell me how that feels baby" he coos, getting back on his pussy eating duty. 

You can't form a proper sentence, babbling some words you don't even comprehend. The sensation is overwhelming, the uneven shakes of the dryer goes straight to your pussy, making you unwind more and more by the second. Combined with the precise motion of Jean’s tongue against your clitoris, you feel like you've reached a new level of pleasure. And you're not going to last long. 

Gripping the top of his ashy hair you call his name, warning him seconds before your orgasm crashes over you. The dryer still in motion makes you whine as it vibrates through your now limp, sensitive body. Jean raises to his feet kissing you tenderly before shutting off the machine.

"So ? You liked it ? " he laughs cupping your face. 

"I got to say it felt pretty good" you giggle hitting his shoulder with the few strength left in your body. He laughs at your weak assault, placing his forehead against yours.

"Anything for my girl" he murmurs, before sealing your lips. 

You pull at his trousers with one hand while the other fishes his cock out. He's fully hard. One thing you like about him is that your pleasure is enough for him to feel good, doesn't mean that you won't make him cum, but you think it's cute. Spitting in your hand you stroke him a few times just to get him wet. You tease your entrance with the tip of his cock before he bottoms it out in one snap of his hips.

The stretch makes you gasp, but god, it feels good "Jean I need you to fuck me real hard" you want to feel it in the morning, you want to fell it in every steps you take, you need it. 

Without another word your boyfriend starts to rut into you, holding the back of your head so your eyes won't leave his. 

"Like that my love ? " his hips slaps rapidly against yours and you nod, mouth agape. This time he is the one making the machine shake with the force of his thrust. 

The ringing of the door bell startled you both, stopping any movement.

"It's the maintenance guy! we have to stop" you whisper knowing that it is a question of second before Eren let him come into your shared apartment

"No you wanted this so bad baby, i'm not going to stop"

"Jean! He's coming for the fridge. It's right outside that door he's going to hear us!" panic laces your tone, you accepted to do the laundry so you don't have to deal with this man, you don't want him to hear you have sex!

"Then you just have to be real quiet" he whispers against your lips pulling out in one swift motion, you can't help but whimper at the loss. 

Making you stand on wobbly legs, Jean turns you around, placing your hands flat against the dryer where you previously came. 

"Can you be quiet for me ?" tilting your chin to look in your eyes, you nod, not trusting your voice to be consistent. "Good" he gives your ass a light tap before entering your pussy once more in a single thrust. You close your eyes shut as he picks up where he left off, pushing the gummy walls of your pussy with his thick cock. 

On the other side of the door you can hear Eren making light conversation with the handyman "Yeah I'm the man of the house haha, my wife is not here today"  You picture him scratching the back of his neck, like he does when he's embarrassed. 

Jean chuckles at that, pulling your hair so you're flush against his torso while a large hand comes to cover your mouth muffling the quiet moan you've been letting out. 

"Heard that babe ? The man of the house is here and I'm fucking his wife." He punctuates his sentence with a particularly harsh thrust that makes the dryer knock against the wall. Fuck they're going to hear, what if they want to check where the noise come from ? and they catch you in this compromising position ? You don't want to, but at the thought you pussy clenches against your boyfriend's cock. He gasps. 

" You like that ? You enjoy cheating on your husband doll ?" you nod, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. The more he pounds into you the more you feel like they're going to roll down your cheeks. Pulling at his wrist you free your mouth from his palm.

"Kiss me" you beg with teary eyes. He indulges, he always does, the kiss is rough, it's everything you need and you let yourself moan knowing he'll swallow it all. You can't hold yourself any more, your chest is pressed against the top of the machine, Jean's back trapping you on it as the tip of his dick never stops his assault against your g spot. 

He knows this is your favorite position and it is exactly why he folded you in it when you'd had to keep quiet. You stick your own fingers in your mouth, not wanting to draw any more attention to this room, the repeated banging of the machine on the wall already doing a good job at that. 

"Need me to check that out too ?" The foreign voice asks on the other side of the door 

You don't even hear Eren's excuse as your pussy clenches around Jean's cock once more.

It feels so good to belong to Jean while the whole world thinks you're with Eren. You're close, you can tell by the familiar sensation in your lower belly and the tears finally breaking free on your skin. Your brain is all foggy, you don't have much restraint now , your jaw goes slack and you let your moans  fill the room. At that Jean increases his speed pistoning inside your pussy until you reach your high. 

Eren's cheeks are burning, his cock twitches in his pants. He knows exactly what's going on in the laundry room. He heard Jean coming earlier, not bothering to greet him. You two really have to go at it while there's someone else in the house ? It's frustration he knows it, he didn't exactly expected you two to include him in your sex life after the threesome but this just feels teasing. 

A peak won't hurt right ? After all, the fridge is fixed now and the guy whose name he can't remember has already left. Slowly opening the door he watches through the crack.  Fuck, your body is resting against the dryer he bought as you're getting hammered by your stupid boyfriend you already came he can tell by the way you're body resemble a ragdoll's. Jean is still fucking himself into you chanting praise as you nod absent mindly, cheek squished against the machine. 

He won't touch himself watching the two of you. He's not a creep, at least he's trying to convince himself he isn't. But fuck the moan Jean let out as he cums inside your pussy make his dick twitch again. He can see the semen leaking against your thigh when he pulls out. His long cock resting against his thigh, he wished he had sucked him off that night, but at the same time he's glad he didn't : Jean can't tease him about it. He watches the two of you exchange soft kisses when the sound of the washing machine interrupts it. 

Jean turns the button to make it stop, opening the porthole he uses a shirt to wipe your inner thigh clean.  You protest telling him this is freshly washed clothes. Squinting his eyes he recognizes the cloth as his, bastard he thinks clenching his fist. 

"Enjoyed the show, pervert ?" Eren jumps, obviously not as sneaky as he thought, turning his heels he makes a quick way to his bedroom, hearing the two of you laugh behind him. 

[braunbakery]

I’m sorry if this is rude but would you ever write a sequel to little sparrow? Like what happens between jean and reader and Mikasa after reader confesses to him?

poison oak

☞ jean kirstein x fem reader

☞ sequel to little sparrow, word count: 3k

☞ sfw, angst angst angst, canon-verse [post aot finale.]

☞ plot: there comes a point where whatever false comfort you and jean are afforded by pretending what you said on the boat never happened hurts more than you can bear.

☞ inspired by poison oak - bright eyes

☞ poison oak

the nightmares will never truly leave.

this is something that you all know full well. know to your deepest cores as the paradis demons, the paradis survivors, the paradis warriors. heroes. it needs not to be talked about, to be acknowledged or discussed.

and yet, they seem almost worse now that you awaken to safety. now that you can awaken to the knowledge of a war victoriously won and finally over. it seems even near the calm flickering and warmth of a fire at your bedside, or the crickets chirping outside a window, your mind cannot forget. it seems easier to have a nightmare when you were living in one.

jean knows this all too well, as he remains between sleep and consciousness tossing and turning until his bedsheets are all but crumbled into a bundle on his mattress. this is the routine – one he knows that he and his friends often undergo – especially in the nights following the end of the final battle for peace.

sometimes he is a young boy again – fifteen and watching his friends be devoured by beasts beyond comprehension. sometimes he is older and wiser, but still inhabited by that same fear and dread that has followed him from his most innocent and tarnished youth just to face enemies that look just like him. sometimes there are guns and sometimes blades. sometimes he is surrounded by comrades and sometimes he is isolated and staring up at the wall that dictated his very existence until countless died to be rid of it.

and sometimes – not often, not nearly as often as he would like – his nightmares are interrupted by an ocean breeze and your blurry silhouette in front of him. back at that boat before the final stretch. you’re speaking – he can hear your voice and make out your figure moving – yet he can’t make out the words.

he doesn’t need to. he knows this scene well enough since the day it happened.

his mouth moves of its own volition and he can barely even see from this cursed blur cast onto his vision – but he knows he is clasping your shoulder and he knows what words will come next out of his mouth.

“i need to go.”

and then he is awake.

*~*

it’s easy to get wrapped up in whatever comes after the war.

months go by and you’re signing treaties and mourning and meeting officials and reinstating civilisations alongside your comrades – but it’s barely ever that you all get to be friends. no, these moments are few and in between yet when they come it is like an air of gratefulness settles into the room until once more you are all interrupted by whatever duties are bestowed upon you next.

you are somewhat thankful for this business – obviously not for the horrors of that final battle or the things witnessed and lives lost – but for this sudden political leadership you and your comrades now share. you do not have time to think of jean and your confession. sometimes thoughts of it do slip in, it is hard not to when you have to see him so often those first few months, but now it has been a year and you have all gone on to follow your respective lives.

that constant underlying ache for him has turned into an occasional sting. you love jean. you do. it is a fact written into the crevices of your soul since your youth – but you owe it to yourself to live. to torture yourself no more with thoughts of him.

(“how have you been?” he says to you in the corner of the meeting room you are all situated in. you’re both currently stood at the small make-shift coffee and tea station set up for you all and pouring yourself a cup.

“oh!” you had not realised jean had sidled up beside you, “good! um…i’m alright.”

jean’s eyes flit between both of yours and suddenly you’re filled with the same embarrassment you used to feel when you would get tangled up in your ODM gear when you were younger and jean would double over laughing at you. he brings up a hand to the back of his neck.

you both have not spoken of that day on the boat and you certainly do not plan to bring it up.

“good…” jean eventually replies, “that’s good.”

“sorry,” you blurt out, “how’re you?” jean is grinning at your perceived impoliteness.

“tired,” he candidly blurts out and now it’s your turn to beam at him.

“i think we all are,” you say, and jean nods at you until suddenly his hand is coming up towards you. closer and closer and you’re frozen to the spot, you don’t even notice that you’ve stopped breathing. all you can think of is his hand’s nearing proximity to your face until suddenly it stops right at your eye.

he lightly brushes his thumb under your eye – the sure sign of your sleepless nights. you’re looking up at him lost for words as he mindlessly stares at the slight darkness painting your undereye.

when he locks eyes with you, it’s like he has suddenly realised himself and with an all too quick motion jerks his hand away from your face and stares at the ground.

“yeah, i’d say that’s right,” he sheepishly mumbles.

you hand him the teapot and both stand in silence until you’re called back to the meeting table.

and then like a well-trained dog, whenever you catch him look at mikasa (whether sparingly, whether a glance or his utmost focus as she speaks), you stare down at your clasped hands in an attempt to no longer involve yourself in whatever wreckage jean kirstein unconsciously makes of your heart.)

sometimes he writes to you.

a meeting of the so-called ‘heroes’ has become infrequent and only once every few months. you’ve all settled in different places some far and some close. sometimes you meet without the guise of peace and restoration, and sometimes that very guise is what’s needed for you all to see each other again.

so, you resort to writing. it’s you that starts it.

you write to everyone. you want to know of their plans, of their news homes, new lives, new directions. armin writes back the most – always lengthy responses and curiosity practically emanating off the parchment paper. in the times you have all met between these letters everyone has expressed their dismay for having to sit and write (‘as much as we’ve gone through together, you know i’m not writing,’ connie quips), yet at least once a month you receive something.

this is excluding jean, who week after week has something to say back to you.

he writes of new friends, new hobbies, new places, new desire for exploration. he writes and he writes and he writes, answering every question you have and asking his own. and it’s hard not to get too wrapped in it – you are childhood friends, you are soldiers in arms. and you have only just been able to resolve the heartache from the boat into a rough reminder that only comes and goes.

so with every letter (every poorly-scrawled joke and sudden idea and ‘yours truly’) you swallow your beaming smile and read as if this were anyone of the others writing to you.

*~*

eventually you do all meet, months later, at a bar.

it’s rounds of beers and dastardly jokes and everyone chortling at connie and jean rough-housing each other like they were teenagers once more. it’s reiner being forced to chug pints with a red face as connie insist he loosen up and ‘you’re the biggest here, you need to catch up.’

jean meets your eyes as everyone cheers and all you can think is that you are so happy to see him so at ease. to no longer see him as that haunted boy on the boat. your eyes meet jeans and all he can think is that he is so happy to see you here with everyone (which includes him. here with him.)

a lull of silence falls over the table eventually and you look up at jean to find him already staring at you. you offer him a small smile, overcome by the smooth buzz of alcohol and the warmth of the bar, and he reciprocates yet neither one of you looks away.

in the depths of your mind, you can feel whatever thoughts of him you have supressed over time come crawling out once more and you wonder if you are both to go on with the rest of your lives without ever mentioning what happened that day long ago. the silence breaks and everyone’s head turns to reiner, who’s holding up his half empty glass.

“to eren,” he declares, and you can practically hear mikasa’s breath hitch in her throat from next to you. around the table you can see the slight glaze over everyone’s eye, the sudden realisation that you truly did all make it out, “and to everyone else lost.” reiner continues.

slowly but surely, everyone’s glasses are raised up to the air and you’re back to years before inspecting jean’s every move like you can practically bore your eyes through his head and read his thoughts. and as your arm is outstretched in tribute to those who should be here with you today, you realise that jean is not looking at you.

he is looking at mikasa, as a single tear slowly trails its way down her cheek. he looks and he looks and he looks, even after everyone places their drinks back on the table with a synchronous clink. everyone is sharing a sympathetic glance at her, but in your most selfish moment you stare at jean.

you slowly watch as he stretches out his hand across the table and gently clasps it over hers, offering her a consoling smile and looking at her in ways you could only dream. sometimes you think maybe this is the look he gives you, maybe this is what you see when his eyes suddenly catch yours across the room or when he had brushed his thumb under your eye or when he tells you he looks forward to your next letter. but no – the look you long for is in front of you between him and her. from him to her.

without even thinking, you clasp your hand on mikasa’s shoulder and make your way off of your chair and suddenly jean is quickly retracting his own from hers. you cannot even spare him a look. you feel so selfish, you feel so dumb. you made it through battle upon battle and monstrosity upon monstrosity yet for some reason you cannot make it through whatever you feel for jean.

“think i’m done for the night,” you blurt out, voice slightly slurred from the amount of drinks you’ve had – though you suspect everyone else’s voices are similar. through everyone’s boos and goodbye’s you can hear jean.

“what?”

but you can barely spare him a glance before you’re grabbing your coat from the back of your chair, crossing the room and leaving the bar with no hesitation.

*~*

it’s only ‘til you’re halfway down the cobblestone street where the bar is that you realise the reason you’re so uncomfortable and cold and wet is because it is raining and you forgot your damn umbrella in the bar. so swept up in thoughts of a man who doesn’t love you that now you’re standing in the middle of the street at god knows what time looking like a fool.

jean kirstein doesn’t love you.

does jean kirstein love you?

why doesn’t jean kirstein love you?

maybe you were fine with whatever lingering glance and weekly letter and small yet fleeting touch. maybe a deep most embarrassing part of your mind thought perhaps he was growing to. maybe some convoluted side of you thought that perhaps with this much effort he put into sustaining your friendship, something else could be there. maybe–

“hey!” a voice calls after you in the distance.

you instinctively turn around and of course, of course, it’s him in all of his glory standing in the rain with your folded umbrella in hand and raised towards you.

“i think you forgot something,” he says and he starts to jog towards you. when he notices your hair dripping wet and your face almost laminated as he reaches you he can’t help but laugh, “though i’m a little late.”

“thanks,” you muster out, but you can’t seem to manage to take the umbrella from him. you can’t seem to move at all. jean frowns. he knows that something is wrong, and you can tell that he knows. it’s not like you (you who insists on writing letters, on meeting every few months, on reminiscing and appreciating and loving those who have come all this way with you) to suddenly leave without another word.

“what’s wrong?” jean starts, staring down at you staring down at your shoes.

you can’t speak until suddenly a hand is lightly touching your chin and tugging your face up. you’re met with his face and you hope – you pray – that he cannot notice whatever tears may or may not have escaped and that he may think your sniffling is from spending time out in the rain and not from this sudden sadness that feels like it’s taking over your every limb.

sadness for what? for something that never was?

“i’m going to bed, jean,” you say, slightly angling your chin away from his hand which remains in mid-air despite your movement.

“tell me,” he repeats, “tell me what’s wrong.”

you stare at his wet hair that has started to stick to his forehead for a moment. for a few. until suddenly you realise that he’s begging. he’s begging. he’s begging for you to tell him…to say it. and surely by now he can tell it’s from all that time ago, when you were bearing your soul to him in what could have been your final moments alive with each other. he must know. he has to know.

it's when he slightly nods his head at you as he watches you rummage through your own thoughts that he does know. he just wants you to say it.

“you’ll never love me, will you, jean?”

“that’s–”

“jean, please,” you snap, “just be honest with me. you owe it to me.”

“i know i do, i…” he feels like he’s barely able to enunciate. barely able to keep the words pouring out of him before they even make sense in head, “i’m sorry about the boat.”

your heart is rising and falling and rising and falling and you don’t think you would’ve ever heard any acknowledgment about what happened that day for as long as you lived. you thought that despite the fact that the both have you have faced enemies larger than life, you would both have never faced that day together.

“yeah,” you barely mouth out.

“i’m sorry i didn’t say anything. i’m sorry i…i just left. i don’t know why i–” he cuts himself off with two hands up to his hair, scrunching and pulling at it like his life depends on it, “the last thing i ever wanted was to hurt you.”

“it’s a bit late for that,” you can’t help but spitefully remark. you hate what this has made you into, this bitter and sad person this heartache has rendered you into.

“i know,” he breathes, “i know. but i…” it’s like it’s paining him to speak, and it’s a miracle you can even hear each other over the raindrops colliding down onto the street beneath you. your chests are both heaving and your breath is evaporating into steam in front of you. your clothes are soaked all the way through and jean’s are certainly on the way to being the same.

“…you?” you urge.

“i think i do.”

what?

“what?”

his hands are suddenly on your shoulders and his eyes are boring into you and you can feel the steam of his breath on your cheeks.

“i think i do,” he says again, voice racing itself, “like, really really do. i know it’s mean to say this now, i know it’s selfish. but i just need time. i just need to let go, somehow.”

you can taste the salt of your tears.

“let go of her, you mean?” and jeans eyebrows scrunch at the fact that you know full well what he means. he’s always known that you’ve know – sure, he saw your reaction at the bar – he just never imagined that you’d speak it aloud. speak it aloud to him.

he swallows, “yeah.”

you’re tired, you’re so so tired.

“i’m going to bed, jean,” and you start turning and wrenching yourself out of his grasp, but his hand is now around your wrist holding you in place.

“wait,” he urgently blurts, “please.”

“jean,” you tearfully sigh. this is not the life you want to live. you did not survive for this. you did not fight and win and go on just to still have your heart dictated by jean and mikasa.

“please,” he says again, slowly.

“jean, i’ve been waiting for you for years, whether i’ve liked it or not.”

“i know–”

“and now we have no war. now we have people, we have lives. we have something more than bloodshed.”

this time, jean lets you when you carefully tear yourself out of his grasp and fully face him.

“and i’m not letting myself spend what we have now waiting.”

*~*

that night, you take your umbrella from jean and walk to the nearby inn that you have all purchased rooms in for your stay without ever opening it. you listen to your feet echo against the empty cobblestone street and thank yourself that you turned and left before you could stare at jean’s back leaving you like before.

when you get to your room, you strip off all of your clothes and leave them in a heaped damp puddle in the corner of the room, then sit at your bed alone staring out the window. the wind slightly batters against the wooden panes and you can hear its distant howl.

it’s then that you realise you are somehow still on that boat. and maybe you are cursed to never leave.

thanks for reading :) feel free to request (please something other than jean dear god)

[jeankirsteinsforever]

★ The clock read 11:47 PM. You stared at it, the soft red glow casting shadows across the room. The apartment was silent, save for the faint ticking of the wall clock and the distant hum of traffic outside.

The dinner table was still set, though the candles had long since burned out. The food was cold now, untouched. You had planned something special tonight, hoping for a moment to reconnect, but the hours dragged on, and with each passing minute, the hope faded.

You didn’t know why you still waited. You told yourself you wouldn’t anymore, that you’d stop letting the emptiness of the night swallow you whole. But here you were, curled up on the couch, watching the door as if sheer willpower could make it open sooner.

The sound of keys turning in the lock broke the stillness. The door opened, and Jean stepped inside. He moved quietly, almost cautiously, like a stranger in his own home. His eyes flicked to you for a brief moment before he set his bag down and hung his jacket on the hook.

“You’re late,” you said, your voice soft but heavy.

He hesitated, his shoulders slumping. “I know.”

That was all he ever said.

You stayed where you were, watching as he walked into the kitchen. He didn’t even glance at the table as he poured himself a glass of water. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if the weight of the day had hollowed him out.

“Did something happen?” you asked, though you weren’t sure if you really wanted the answer.

“No,” he said.

You nodded, the silence stretching between you like a chasm.

When you finally stood, your legs felt unsteady, like they were carrying more than just your weight. You walked into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as Jean stared down at his glass.

“I waited,” you said quietly.

“I know.” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked at him, at the way his hands trembled slightly as he held the glass. He looked so tired, more than tired. There was something distant in his eyes, something unreachable.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” you admitted, your voice breaking despite your efforts to keep it steady.

Jean flinched, his grip tightening on the glass. He didn’t look at you. “I’m trying,” he said.

“Are you?” The words came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t take them back.

He set the glass down with a quiet clink, his hands falling to his sides. “I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“I don’t want words, Jean,” you said, your voice cracking. “I just want you to be here.”

“I am here,” he said, finally looking at you. But the words felt hollow, and you both knew it.

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes "No you're not. Not really."

Jean’s face crumpled for a moment before he turned away, leaning heavily against the counter. His shoulders rose and fell with a shaky breath.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he said, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear him.

You closed your eyes, the weight of his words settling over you like a stone. You didn’t know how to fix it either.

For a moment, you stood there in silence, the distance between you feeling insurmountable. Then you stepped closer, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinched slightly but didn’t pull away.

“Come to bed,” you said softly.

Jean hesitated, then nodded. He followed you to the bedroom, his footsteps slow and heavy.

That night, you lay side by side in the dark, the space between you feeling colder than it should. You stared at the ceiling, your chest aching with the unspoken truth you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

He was here, but it wasn’t enough.

And you didn’t know if it ever would be again.

[marleysfinest]

ENEMIES > LOVERS; JEAN X READER

modern au, fluff/no warnings, gn!reader

word count: 1.6k

thank u @robynnnhooddd for this req! 💕

obligatory @fromriches-tosin tag for ur husbando

there's nothing quite like a childhood rivalry.

run off squealing at the sight of a worm? expect to find a handful in your shoes tomorrow morning. they say that they forgot their homework? be sure to ask the teacher right away when it was due to remind them, despite knowing full well it was today, just to make an example of your rival. neither of you dared utter a whisper of distaste or resentment lest you wanted to hear about it for the next ten years in excruciating detail.

jean had always been the prickly boy next door. having grown up together with your mothers as best friends, it was a given that you'd spend many a long hour together, practically torturing one another in any way you could think of. despite the fact that your parents got on like a house on fire, jean's general demeanour had always rubbed you up the wrong way. he'd steal your crayons. he'd hide your dolls. he'd muddy your shoes on purpose. he made your life not quite a living hell, but certainly a waking pain. you gave as good as you got; making for quite the rivalry.

and it didn't stop at the school gates. being the same age meant that you and jean shared classes, and one year, one teacher had even done the unimaginable and sat you together, forced to endure silent standoffs over elbow space, chair-leg positioning, and complaints about the volume of one another's breathing. at the beginning it's torture, waking up every day knowing you're about to endure the most insufferable boy known to mankind. and the teachers adored him; his grades were exceptional, his attendance flawless, his charisma off the charts. it only grew as you flew through school together, with his ego bursting at the seams at every opportunity. he grated on you with heat and intensity; how could one person be so annoying? and what did everyone see in him? was a well-coiffed hairdo and a substantial instagram following really the key to undying love and attention?

you didn't sign one another's t-shirts when you graduated. you didn't even so much as wish one another well; he was as glad to see the back of you, as you were to see the back of him. you even heard through the grapevine of how he'd been spouting theories of what profession you'd go into; something you happily reciprocated by speculating that he'd find employment in a gentleman's club after his father.

you moved out not long after graduating and securing your first job in an office downtown; the pay not kingly, but enough to afford the rent on a small place to call your own on the city's outskirts. slowly but surely, contact between you and your classmates dwindled, and soon they were no more than familiar faces on your social media, your only reunion with them being on the morning commute as you caught up with the latest goings-on. few of them fell into professions of great note, but it was nice to know that people were getting by, living comfortable lives and expanding their families. you yourself didn't post much; maybe you'd get a shot of the sunset every so often on the way home, but you mostly were a silent observer. nevertheless, you slipped into your working life quickly, leaving many memories of the past behind.

until, that was, a chilly spring morning on the way to work. you'd ducked into your usual coffee shop, and had your head in the clouds as the cashier fumbled with the card machine that was not playing ball. you'd tried no less than three times to pay for your oat milk cappuccino, but each time you'd been met with an error. the barista asked for cash, and you felt defeated, knowing full well that you didn't have any on you, and had to accept that good coffee was not on the cards this morning. until, that is, a familiar voice rumbled from behind you.

"I've got it."

your head whipped, and your stomach dropped as you realised who was in front of you.

jean fucking kirschtein.

you felt your chest sink a little, definitely not in the mood to exchange small talk with the person who had made your school days hellishly difficult, and you surmised that he'd feel the exact same, although he had just offered to pay for your coffee.

"oh, you don't have to-"

you'd been so struck by not only the gesture but by who had made the gesture that jean had already paid for the drink and ordered his own by the time you'd replied. the barista took payment and began on your drinks.

"there's not oat milk in the fridge, I'll just need to run to the basement to grab a carton. 2 secs!"

you mustered a smile, all the while seething that you were now forced to talk to jean a little while longer, although it was perhaps the polite thing to do seeing as he'd just rescued your morning caffeine hit.

"hey," you reply as politely as you could manage, "thanks. you didn't have to do that."

he nodded gently, and something about his expression told you that he was genuinely glad to see you. why?

"hey, a damsel in distress? I had to help," he replied, "how've you been? I haven't seen you here before."

you couldn't help but furrow your brow. you came to this shop every morning, since when was he a local, too?

"oh, I practically live here," you respond, hating the fact that your voice stuttered a little, "best coffee I could find in this neighbourhood."

"that bodes well," he said, "my favourite place across the street just closed down."

it still hadn't cleared a lot up; even if he had been going across the street, you'd still have seen him, surely? although perhaps you were simply to immersed in your music to pay much attention. oh god, had he seen you here before? is that why he came over?

"that's too bad," you say, flickering your eyes away for a moment. he looked well; he'd grown a foot taller and muscled up a little, and wore a freshly pressed navy blue suit, with the jacket slung over the crook of his elbow. if you didn't know better, you might have even said he was handsome. silence fell between the two of you for a second, as you realised you didn't quite know how to carry the conversation.

"eh, I don't mind. it's been fun to run into you again."

you couldn't help the shocked look on your face.

"fun?" you ask, the disbelief coming through thick, "c'mon. I don't think that's a word that's ever been used in our case."

he huffed a laugh and grinned widely. fuck, he was handsome.

"yeah..." his voice trailed off as he undoubtedly thought about your shared past of mutual torment. "yeah, I guess we were stupid kids."

there was a sudden softness to him that you knew had to be put on. was there genuine remorse there? how could there be? you had made his life every bit as hard as he'd made yours, could he really look past that now? a part of you respected it, if he could; it showed a maturity that you weren't sure even you had.

"we were... pretty stupid," you agree. the barista had returned from the basement and had started on your drinks. you both watched him get to work, efficiently showing off his skill as he crafted the drinks the same way michelangelo may have crafted david.

"y'know, I always meant to say sorry for that," says jean suddenly, his eyes still focused on the barista's hands. "I mean, I know you gave as good as you got and, god, it was annoying, but... I don't know. I'm saying sorry, I guess."

your eyes grew wider than dinnerplates at his apology, as you found yourself living a moment you swore would never come. you half expected to be catapulted back to that morning, the sound of your alarm waking you from whatever dream this had to be. what was more confusing was there was something endearing about it; something that made you want to apologise in return.

"that why you came to my rescue?" you asked, "one coffee for eighteen years' worth of torment?"

jean turned his attention to you, looking marginally wounded, but with that signature cheek just brimming beneath the surface.

"well, yeah," he said with a gentle smile, "isn't that the price of torment these days?"

you couldn't help but smile in return. the barista planted your drinks on the counter in front of you.

"sorry guys, here you go! one oat milk cappuccino, one caramel latte."

your grin widened as you heard jean's order, surprised to learn of his sweet tooth. he looked embarrassed, but that didn't stop him puffing his chest out to put on appearances.

"what? caffeine and sugar first thing in the morning? just because you couldn't handle it."

a signature jibe, just like when you were kids. although, there was no venom this time. no thick layer of aggression that told you he meant every word with force and pain. it was a gentle jibe, almost a jibe at himself. it was definitely endearing. the two of you left the coffee shop, stepping into the blinding sunlight, hesitating for a second as you realised you didn't want to say goodbye. his lingering suggested he felt the same way.

"hey," he said, "can I walk you to work?"

[doesephs]

jean moreau would treat jet lag like a terminal illness

[zombiecowboy65]

Emo about Jeremy again. Wdym he still misses Leo and he keeps hoping his mother will show him warmth and sympathy, and he tracked all his father’s calls in a notebook, and hated the first time cat told him I love you because it wasn’t fair to come from her first when he’d been waiting so long. Wdym he still tries to connect with his sister and willed himself not to dream so he wouldn’t dream of Jean’s “I will choose you everytime ” out of context and lets all these men use him because at least if he’s being used he’s being thought of at all

[tsukimirecs]

104th cadet corps // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

jean kirstein

the roommate

dutch courage

babymaker

washing machine heart

bottled up

i stayed there, dust collecting

santa daddy

cake

wish, wish, wish

armin arlert

for one night

maneater

nine years

secret love affair

ripe fruit.

bright morning

reminder: thank reiner later

definition of a good boy

ocean eyes

mikasa ackerman

idol

bruises

arm wrestling

nocturne

stalker

dust, moon, and silver

the unbearable weight of staying

eren yeager

the way you are

bittersweet

say a little prayer

ocean's breath

midnight snacks

sweet dreams

emotional baggage

all over again

peppermint flavored kisses

connie springer

honey oat latte

promise

the unwritten law of college parties

free

anything but sex

[bbugspray]

Harry being possessive of his satellite is so…. Heh.. heheheee. I know that when they partied, they partied HARD

[problemduetest4life]

by @doesephs

Jean craved the poison the darkness provided, but now that was gone as well. Jeremy sat on the opposite bed in a splotch of sunlight, a book in his hand. Jean wasn’t surprised by his presence. He had been the one making him get up to change his clothes and brush his teeth. Offerings of water and Cat’s cooking sat on his bedside table. Laila had even combed his hair, careful to not snag any snarls.

For Christmas my sibling commissioned this piece by @doesephs for me! It's from Chapter 14 of my fic: All cookie wrappers, and the empty cups of tea :)

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Too Many Beds

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist 

summary: you want nothing more than an excuse to sleep next to dean again

pairing: (pre-s1/s1) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 2.1k 

warnings: none really, language, bed sharing, kissing, mutual pining, idiots in love, brief mention of the death of reader’s dad

timeline: starts slightly before season one, ends near the beginning of season one

author’s note: a spin on the classic 'just one bed, what ever shall we do?' trope lol

You’d known Dean all your life, practically. You met him when you were six and he was eight; two lonely little kids stuck with absent (job-driven) fathers and baby brothers you felt responsible for. Over the course of the last eighteen-or-so years you ran into the Winchesters during hunts enough that you considered them family. 

When Sam left for college you were there for Dean and when you lost your dad in a hunting accident Dean was there for you. He actually stayed with you, not wanting you to hunt alone since your brother was off at college too.

So, for the last six months you’d been hunting with Dean (who hadn’t spoken to Sam for over a year).

“One room, two queens,” Dean said to the woman behind the counter, placing “his” credit card on the space between them before sliding it toward her.

“We’re all booked up I’m afraid,” she said.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I was actually about to turn on the no vacancy sign.”

“This is the third motel we’ve been to,” you said, “every one of them has been full—you’ve gotta have something!”

“I mean, there’s technically one room left but the heater’s out and my boss said not to let anyone sleep there because of that.”

There was a silent pause; you and Dean shared a knowing look.

“We’ll pay in cash, your boss ‘ll never know,” you told the woman. She smiled and nodded as you paid her with cash. 

“Room 209, my boss gets here at ten tomorrow morning so please leave before then.” She handed you the key and you nodded in thanks.

You had underestimated just how cold the room could be, but when you unlocked and opened the door you understood why the owner didn’t want anyone staying here.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled, following you into the room and feeling the cold air. “We’re gonna freeze our asses off in here!” he quickly closed the door behind him, hoping the icy air hadn’t swept any snow into the room.

“It’s either this or we sleep in the Impala,” you shrugged, “and, no offense to your car, but it’s fuckin’ uncomfortable to sleep in.”

“And there’s only one bed,” Dean sighed.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” you told him, ignoring his complaints. 

**

“Are you shivering or crying?” Dean asked.

You rolled over so you could meet his stare; “Shivering! It’s fuckin’ cold in here!”

“You wanna…cuddle up, maybe?” he asked hesitantly.

“Excuse me?” you laughed a little.

“Look, I’m not thrilled about it either, but it’s cold in here and unless we both wanna catch fucking pneumonia we better be smart and share body heat.”

You sighed, weighing your options; “Fine. But we never, and I mean never speak of this again, you hear me?”

“Understood.” He nodded.

You rolled back over as he scooted closer to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.

“This okay?” he asked quietly, his lips ghosting the back of your head.

“Yeah,” you mumbled back. “Thank you, Dean.”

**

You woke up to the sound of Dean snoring loudly. You were used to his snores, sure, but he’d never been this close. He was laying on his stomach and resting on your chest; his mouth open and his hair tickling your neck. Your first reaction was annoyance but then it quickly washed away as you realized you didn’t want to move a muscle, so Dean could continue sleeping. 

And the more you laid there, listening to his snores, the more you realized how comfortable you were…even in such a physically uncomfortable situation. 

As the time passed and the sun began to rise, you cursed the light that was slowly but surely peeking through the curtain and onto Dean’s face. 

“Morning,” he mumbled to you as he lifted his head up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand before wiping his mouth. “Sorry,” he chuckled, noticing the small spot on your gray sweater dampened with his drool.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled back. “I think it’s your sweater anyway.”

“I thought it looked familiar.”

He rolled off of you and out of bed. 

You watched as he padded across the dirty carpet and over to the small kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker and the loud, off putting grinding noise made his face scrunch before he quickly shut off the (definitely broken) machine.

“So much for coffee,” he grumbled. “You gonna sit there all morning or you wanna get outta here? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

“I’m getting up,” you replied. You would usually be annoyed at him for rushing you to wake up, but this time the annoyance was…different. Something about his bedhead, the way his lips were pouting over the lack of caffeine, and how he looked in his brown Henley and baggy sweats just made you wanna hold him again. All you wanted was to pull him back into bed with you and hold him in your arms forever.

**

You were beyond frustrated at this point. How many stupid fucking hotels had to have vacant rooms with two beds and a functional heating system!? 

It had been nearly six months since you and Dean shared a bed and you had been looking for an excuse to sleep next to him ever since. 

But the last couple weeks had been different—Sammy was back. Yes, you loved Sam like a brother, but you missed getting to be alone with Dean. You missed sitting shotgun in the Impala and watching him drive.

Sam definitely noticed the way you looked at Dean, but the younger Winchester didn’t say a word. Without being too obvious about it, he tried to do little things that would let you be close to his brother. He’d sit in a certain chair or part of the couch so that you and Dean had no choice but to sit together. Or he’d make some lame excuse so that he got his own room while you and Dean had to share. “I need to do some more research and I need the light, why don’t you two just sleep in the other room?” for example. 

**

“Two rooms, please,” Dean said, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet.

“Unfortunately we’ve only got one room left,” the cashier replied. 

You almost couldn’t believe your ears, fucking finally!

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you faked your best frustrated look, of course Sam saw right through that.

“Well, I am not sharing with either or you,” he said with a teasing smile. 

“There’s actually a pullout couch in that room, as luck would have it,” the cashier informed the three of you. 

God fucking damn it, you thought to yourself.

**

It was barely after two when you felt the bed behind you dip, and you shook yourself awake. 

“The hell?” you asked, still half asleep.

“The pullout couch isn’t working,” Dean mumbled quietly. “You mind sharing with me?”

You smiled a little and scooted closer into his arms, indicating you were okay with him sleeping next to you.

“Of course I don’t mind sharing with you,” you whispered and his grip tightened.

**

“I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Sam announced. “I’m assuming you want your usual?”

Dean put his right pointer finger to his lips and furrowed his brows angrily. He gestured to you as you slept and Sam got the message. 

“Usual is good,” Dean whispered before Sam left.

Dean stayed laying perfectly still as you slept on his chest, soft snores escaping your lips and to Dean they were the sweetest sound. 

As you stirred awake slowly, he rubbed your back a little.

“Morning,” you mumbled, a small smile on your lips. “Where’s Sam?”

“He went to grab breakfast,” Dean told you. 

You furrowed your brows as you sat up, looked across the room, and realized something; “The pullout bed looks fine? I thought you said it wasn’t working?” You turned back to Dean, who had a sheepish grin growing on his lips.

“So…maybe I’ve just been looking for an excuse to sleep next to you again. Like we did back in that motel when the heat was out.”

“Really?” You attempted to hide the smile trying to find its way onto your face. 

“When we were checking in last night I noticed how your face lit up when they said there was only one room left,” Dean admitted. “And I saw that disappointed look you made when they said there was a pullout couch. So, am I wrong, or have you been wanting an excuse too?”

“I really liked sleeping next to you that night,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “And you’re right, I have been hoping for another ‘oh no just one bed, guess we’ll have to share’ situation but…”

“But what?” Dean asked when you trailed off. You looked down at him. 

“Dean, you and Sam have been like my brothers for as long as I can remember. I mean, Bobby practically raised all three of us and my actual brother as siblings! Your dad and my dad knew each other basically forever and I guess…I guess I figured our lives are too entangled for anything to ever actually happen between us. We’re family.”

“Chosen family, Y/n.” Dean smiled softly. “Doesn’t mean you have to be my chosen sister, you could be my chosen…you know…” 

You leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his full lips. 

“That,” Dean finished his previous statement. 

“Let’s just keep this between us for now, okay?” you suggested. “If Sam finds out, then your dad will find out, and he’ll immediately tell my brother, then before we know it Bobby—”

“I get the picture, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled before kissing you again. He put his hands on your cheeks as he sat up. He pulled you onto his lap, your legs now straddling his hips. His hands moved to your shoulders then trailed down to your lower back as yours went into his hair. You pulled away from him after a moment, huge smiles on both your faces.

You looked into his eyes, his truly beautiful eyes, and you bit your bottom lip ever so slightly. Your right hand rested on his left cheek, your thumb stroking his skin lovingly. 

“You’re awesome, Dean Winchester,” you whispered. 

“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he replied before he kissed you again. “And gorgeous, too,” he added. “You know how fuckin’ annoying it’s been, sleeping without you every night since that one time?”

“I do know, Dean, I’ve been just as annoyed about it.”

Dean kissed you one more time before he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, tucking his head into your neck. You wrapped your arms around him too, pressing your lips to his temple.

You pulled out of the hug so you could once again look at his face. Resting your forehead on his, you smiled before you kissed him again. 

“Breakfast,” Sam called out as he opened the door, “is served!”

You and Dean froze for a split second before you hurried off of him.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, “did I interrupt you two?”

“What?” you scoffed. “Of course not!”

“Interrupt? There’s nothing to interrupt?” Dean added.

“Oh…wow you two are fast,” Sam mumbled, shaking his head as he made his way to the kitchen before putting the food down. “Well, pancakes, eggs, and bacon from the continental breakfast.” He gestured to the food now on the table. “Hope you’re hungry.”

As Sam sat down to eat, you looked at Dean anxiously. Say something you begged him with your eyes.

“Sammy,” Dean started as he got out of bed, “would you mind uh…not telling dad? About me and Y/n…kissing just now? When we find him, I mean.”

“Dad’s never really been invested in your love life, but he’s not an idiot,” Sam laughed. 

“So…you are gonna tell him?” Dean furrowed his brows in frustration.

“Dean, he knows you two are together, it’s not some big secret?” Sam replied, shoveling more food into his mouth. “Damn that’s good.”

“Okay, just hold on—what?” Dean asked. “What do you mean dad knows? There’s been nothing to know since like four minutes ago?”

“Wait,” Sam stopped eating and fully turned to face you and his brother, “are you trying to tell me this is the first time you two have kissed?” Sam furrowed his brows deeply as you and Dean both nodded. “So…never in high school?” You shook your heads again. “That prom we crashed?”

“Sam you were there the whole time? When would we have kissed?” you asked.

“Huh,” Sam let out a laugh. “I genuinely thought you two had been a thing since like… ‘98.”

“What!?” you and Dean exclaimed in unison.

[burrito-fight]

admiring from afar - RAVEN!NEIL SOCMED AU

part one || prev part || part five (you are here!) || next part

part six

admiring from afar socmed au masterpost || part one || prev part

side socmed au stories you may have missed, linked below! (feel free to send in asks ab any scenarios you want to see)

kevaaron at the fall banquet ft. an unassuming seth

twinyards crackposts/texts

jean babysitting natewes for the first time

okay bcz writing kevaaron is sm fun bcz they're both feisty bitches like 'hissy cat' energy idk how to explain it. ALL HAIL JEAN MOREAU, TIRED FRENCHMAN AND MATCHMAKER EXTRAORDINAIRE. (according to admiring from afar lore, jeremy has been around the ravens through social media since he was a freshman and he and jean have an entirely obvious crush on each other). also andrew + neil going to sweetie's on friday for their 'date', kev visiting aaron on friday in columbia... hehehe. also the french translation for the texts: 'that aaron?' 'i already thought you were an idiot, but this just proves it.'

taglist: @bluehairmisfit , @snowcoming , @little2nerdy , @minyard-05 , @heartstringgs @andrew-03-minyard , @neilsleftpinky , @vannyinthestars , @andabuttonnose , @motherfunkies , @iheartblondes , @03junkie , @leestars13 , @jjjosten , @hidinginmyhands , @tedious-malcontent , @ohfallingdisco , @twin-yards , @graveyardviolence , @youdontknowhowtodiequietly , @evenfallreads , @luxxbean , @jean-yvesning , @marauders-bs , @post-historical-posts , @afidiofobia , @saphritalks , @fly-in-amber , @williamluvr , @lesbiansforkevinday , @min-getoutofmy-yard, @umm0lly sorry if i missed anyone! <3 comment here or on the main post to be added to the taglist or send an ask or rb with tags that say some version of 'i wanna be on the taglist' :) <3

don't forget to like + reblog <3

[tofifee789]

just them but in their tarot card outfits <3

[lesbian-thesbian]

cosette you are perfect we love you

📷 @medium-observation

[triptuckers]

feels like home - tyler owens x reader

Request: nope Pairing: tyler owens x reader Summary: after years, tyler is back in his home town. so much has changed, yet everything is the same Warnings: some swearing, mentions of a slight panic attack, there's a tornado (surprise!), some angst, thats it I think?? Word count: 2.5K A/N: I know nothing about tornadoes. I do know if glen powell asked me to go storm chasing with him I wouldn't hesitate. also running on literally 7% left of my battery but fuck it we roll!! enjoy!

It’s spring. Tyler’s favorite season. During this time of year, it’s peak tornado season. It’s when he’s in his element, doing what he loves.

He’s driving across the U.S. with his loyal crew, chasing the tornadoes wherever they go. And always, inevitably, he ends up in his hometown. It’s a small town, right in the middle of tornado alley. 

Over the years, the people had started building their homes with stronger foundations that could withstand tornadoes better. Every year, there was still a lot of damage, but less than before. Most families had lived there for generations, and didn’t have any plans to move. 

When Tyler pulls up to the local bar, his crew is energized and happy. They’d just finished chasing a rather intense tornado, and everyone is still high on adrenaline. They’re going out for drinks before going to bed, as tomorrow’s weather forecast showed good chances of another tornado.

Little did Tyler know, someone he knows very well has also picked tonight to go out for drinks.

You’re sitting at your usual table with a friend, blowing off some steam after a long day. You like the bar. Everyone knows each other, the bartenders know your drink order and always have it ready for you before you can even order it.

It’s one of the things you missed the most while you were away; the kindness of the small town. You know everyone here, and you always help each other out. Especially during tornado season.

When Tyler steps in the crowded bar, he instantly spots a few familiar faces. Old neighbors, childhood friends, friends of his parents. Then his eyes land on you. His breath hitches in his throat as he watches you laugh at something your friend says. He had no idea you were back.

You look up when you see a group of people approaching you from afar. That’s when you see him. Exactly how you remember him, only a little older and with a belt buckle that says “tornado wrangler”. But you’d known him long before he called himself that.

You and Tyler had dated all throughout college, when you were both studying meteorology. Everyone knew you and while most couples broke up during college, you and Tyler stayed together.

But then Tyler started chasing tornadoes and you moved to a bigger city to enroll in an advanced PhD program. You agreed to part ways. It just felt too difficult to still be in a relationship when the two of you were always away.

But you never stopped loving him. You still watch all of his videos. And you don’t know it, but he reads all of your research articles.

He’s walking up to you now, and you forget you’re in a crowded bar with a friend. You don’t pay attention to the people he brought with him.

You smile warmly at him. ‘Hey, Ty.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that, lady.’ says one of Tyler’s friends. ‘He hates when people call him Ty.’ 

He looks at Tyler, expecting him to say something snarky or mean to you, but he’s got a soft smile on his face.

‘Hey y/n.’ he says. ‘Still around, huh?’

‘Still around. I moved back after graduation. Even though people in a small town can be a handful sometimes, with everyone knowing everything about everyone, it’s still home.’

‘Yeah, it is.’ says Tyler.

Suddenly a few women approach Tyler, stealing him away from your conversation. Apparently, word got out the tornado wrangler is in town, and everyone wants to talk to him.

Tyler waves at you before taking off.

You’re looking at him as he walks away, and your friend nudges you.

‘I thought you guys broke up?’

‘We did. He went to go storm chasing, and I wanted to study more. It just wasn’t practical to stay together.’

‘But you still love him.’

You turn to look at your friend. ‘I never said I stopped loving him.’

‘So… kind of like right person, wrong time?’

‘Yeah, I guess.’

‘What are you waiting for then? He’s here now, go talk to him!’

‘Nah, he’s too busy with his crew. It was nice to see him though.’

You spend the rest of your evening chatting with your friend. You try to focus on the conversation and to not let your mind wander off to Tyler. He really looked good. And his crew looked like they are fun to hang out with. 

When it’s getting late, you walk over to the bar to pay for your drinks. You say goodbye to your friend and head out to the parking lot. 

You see Tyler and his crew standing around his red pick-up truck. They’re laughing and sharing a drink. Tyler spots you and waves at you from where he’s sitting on the hood of his car. You wave back as you get in your own truck. 

‘Tell me, who is she?’ says Boone, pulling Tyler from his throughs as he watches you drive off.

Before Tyler can answer, Lilly starts listing off possible answers. ‘Secret fiancée? High school sweetheart? Admirer? Girl you went on three dates with and then left?’ she counts on her fingers.

‘No, none of that.’ says Tyler.

‘Definitely looks like a high school sweetheart. She’s your age, from around here. I bet you two grew up together.’

Tyler sighs. They’re not gonna let this go. And since they’re all going storm chasing tomorrow, they’re probably going to annoy him about it until he answers them.

‘We did grow up together. She was not my high school sweetheart, more like my college sweetheart. We broke up when I became a chaser.’

‘Let me guess, she always called you Ty?’ says Boone.

Tyler smiles at the memory. ‘She did.’

‘Ohhh my boy is whipped!’ says Boone, giving Tyler a playful shove. 

‘Oh, fuck off, Boone. That’s all in the past. She probably has someone waiting for her at home.’

But you didn’t.

You hadn’t really dated anyone after your breakup with Tyler.

Sure, you’d been on a few dates people had set you up with. But somehow, it never felt right. It never felt like it did while you were with Tyler. Loving Tyler was just so easy. Like you were always meant to find each other.

When he walked in that bar earlier tonight, he looked different. Older, sure. But also very handsome. You could tell he loved being a chaser. You wish you could’ve talked more with him, just the two of you.

The next morning when you wake up, it’s much earlier than you would have liked. You didn’t have any plans today and wanted to sleep in. As you lay in bed, you hear the rain slam against the window. You’re used to it, and it usually doesn’t wake you up. 

But as the rain starts to get heavier, you hear the wind is picking up as well. You knew there was a tornado warning for this morning, but it wasn’t for your town. The tornado was supposed to move away from you. 

That’s when you hear the siren. It’s almost part of your routine, it’s so familiar. You’re quick to get out bed, grabbing your phone. As you race downstairs to get to your shelter, you pull up the weather map. Which shows the tornado going straight for the main street of town. Fuck.

You hastily pull on your boots and open the backdoor to your garden, which is where your shelter is. You run toward it, the wind whipping in your face and the rain soaking your clothes in seconds. 

It takes a lot of strength to open the shelter doors with the wind threatening to slam them closed again. Finally, you make it inside after nearly falling down the stairs. You close the doors and bolt them. 

Now all that’s left for you to do is wait until the tornado is gone. You switch on the tiny light and pull out a blanket. There’s not much here except for some canned food. If Tyler saw this, you just know he’d immediately go to the store to get more supplies “just in case”. 

Thinking of him, you pull out your phone. You’re thinking about calling him, when you notice you have no service. The tornado must have already done a lot of damage. 

Meanwhile, Tyler is in the of the storm, near the tornado. They’re ready to get some great shots, but something changes. 

The tornado was supposed to head east and then die out, but it’s too slow. Tyler squints his eyes, looking at it. It’s almost as if it’s getting closer again. 

He realizes what’s happening at the same time Boone yells ‘It’s turning around!’

And he’s right. The tornado is heading west again. And Tyler knows what’s there. His hometown. Your hometown.

‘Oh, fuck.’ he says. He prays that you’re safe. He knows you’re smart, you’re probably inside the shelter by now. But he still worries.

They wait out the tornado before driving back to the town, prepared to help in any way they can. Debris is scattered throughout the streets. People walk around, helping each other or trying to salvage what’s left of their possessions in the rubble of the houses. 

Ever since they got back, Tyler has been trying to call you. You’re not picking up. He’s desperately telling himself you know the protocols. Hell, you’ve lived in tornado alley your entire life. You’re probably taking inventory of the damage on your property right now. 

Meanwhile, you’ve been listening to the storm outside. It’s all quiet now, you don’t hear any rain or wind, or sirens. You climb up the stairs and push open the doors. Except they don’t open. You check all the hinges, which are all still secure in place. Then why won’t the doors open?

You walk back down the stairs as you slowly start to panic. There’s probably debris blocking the doors. You have no cell service. Everyone is busy with their own houses. How long would it take for someone to find you?

You’re trying desperately to stay calm. People will find you eventually, right? But soon the tears are streaming down your face. You’d been in this shelter before, but it’s terrifying when you can’t open the door and all you have is a dim light, some canned food, a blanket and a phone without service.

Tyler’s crew is helping the people in town. But he gets increasingly more worried when you won’t pick up a single of his phone calls. 

Lilly notices his worried glances at his phone while she’s handing out food to people. ‘Tyler.’ 

He looks up at her. Lilly jerks her head to his truck. ‘Go see if she’s alright. You know where she lives, right?’

Tyler nods. 

‘Go. We’ve got it here.’ says Lilly.

He takes a quick look around. Lilly is right, his crew can handle it here. He just really needs to know if you’re okay. 

There’s too much debris on the road, so Tyler ditches his truck and walks the rest of the way. He could walk this route with his eyes closed. The longer he walks, the more destruction he sees and the more the uneasy feeling in his chest grows.

What if you were somewhere buried in the rubble of your house and he never got a chance to ask you if you wanted to try again? To see if you still had that spark you had when you were younger? He knew you wouldn’t let him go that easily. It had hurt you both when you broke up. And seeing you again, it reminded him of all the time you had spent together during college.

When he finally gets to your house, he sees it’s mostly still intact. The walls are still standing, but the roof needs fixing. Most of your windows are broken and a tree had fallen on your truck.

Tyler rushes to the front door, which is hanging off its hinges. He quickly enters your house.

‘y/n? y/n! Where are you?’

When you don’t respond, he tries calling you again. 

‘Come on, pick up, pick up.’ he mutters. Still no answer. Damn it.

Where would you go during a tornado? He’s forcing his mind to stop spinning out of control so he can think logically. Then he remembers you have a shelter in your backyard. How could he forget? He even helped you stock it in case something like this happened.

He runs through your messy living room, pieces of broken glass crunching underneath his boots. When he gets outside, he sees your shed – or what’s left of it – on top of the doors to your shelter.

‘y/n!’ he yells again, running toward the shelter.

You faintly hear a voice yelling your name. You briefly think you’re actually going insane at that point. Your panicked mind is making this up because it knows Tyler gives you a feeling of safety. Tyler isn’t here, he’s most likely outside still chasing the damn tornado. There’s no way he’d be here.

‘y/n are you in there? Give me a shout if you can hear me!’

But that’s unmistakably his voice. You hear sounds outside near the door.

‘Ty?’ you say quietly. 

‘Come on! Are you in there?’

‘Ty!’ you say, louder this time.

Outside, Tyler lets out a big sigh of relief as he continues to draw away the debris from the doors of your shelter.

Finally, he can see the handle of one of the doors and yanks it open. 

You squint your eyes at the sudden sunlight. Your eyes are quick to adjust, and they land on Tyler.

Standing there, breathing heavily, looking at you and holding out his hand for you to take.

‘Ty..’ you say softly. Fresh tears start to run down your cheeks as you take his hand and allow him to pull you out of the shelter. 

He pulls you against his chest, one hand coming around your back and the other on the back of your head, holding you against him.

You allow yourself to get lost in the familiar feeling. Tyler still wears the same cologne, and you still fit perfectly in his arms. God, you missed him.

‘I was so scared.’ you mumble. 

‘I know, sweetheart, I know.’ says Tyler.

He pulls back slightly so he can look you in the eye. ‘Are you hurt?’ he asks.

You shake your head. ‘I got to the shelter as soon as I heard the sirens, like you taught me.’

Tyler smiles at you. ‘You did good.’

‘I brought my phone but there was no service and then I couldn’t open the door and I-‘

‘y/n.’ says Tyler, cutting you off. ‘You’re alright. I got you out.’

‘Thank you.’ you say, burying your head in his chest once more.

The two of you stand there for a while. You both need this right now.

‘Ty?’ you say.

He hums in response. 

‘Please don’t leave again.’

He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

‘I’m never leaving you again, sweetheart.’

A/N:If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost, steal or translate my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love,Marit

[dragonsoulage]

How they eat it…

feat. Levi Ackerman, Eren Yeager, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirstein, Connie Springer

They love it, they are addicted, they just can’t get enough of you and your pretty heaven down there. How eager they all are to just eat you up…

Hello friendos, here we are the next smutty smut I am uploading 👀💀 this time I felt like the AoT men deserved some attention or more like we deserved their attention xD so just have fun reading it 🤌🏻💕

Warnings: pūssy eating, face sitting, use of pet names, overstimulating

Wordcount: 4K

Levi Ackerman ~ The feral and mean captain

When you came in his office, like you did every day, as a good girlfriend, you didn't think you would end up sprawled out on his desk.

Not that this wouldn't have happened before. But he said he was hungry, little did you know, the only thing he was hungry for, was the paradise between your legs.

Not many things get off of his mind, it was so rare that he actually found time to relax.

Time to stop thinking, but hell, his brain stopped working on every heavy thought as soon as he had you on his tongue.

Tongue lapping at your pulsing pussy, hands around your thighs, holding you firm in place.

"Stop wiggling around so much, brat." he murmured between his ministrations.

Tongue laid flat against your cunt before licking up and then circling your swollen nub. It made your legs grew shaky every time he did that. And looked up at you, steel blue eyes, locked onto yours, not only did he devoured your delicious pussy, your very soul left your body when he looked at you like this.

Feral, you could tell he was so feral about your pussy.

No matter if he is actually inside you, feeling like the best place on earth, or if it's his tongue that danced around your sensitive flesh.

"Levi, I-I can't help, it's too much." you whimpered, and you were such a whiny slut for the captain. Even if you said it was too much, he knew you enjoyed it, the way you felt so hot on his mouth. Always these crashing orgasms he gave you, when he just couldn't stop, eating you out in the most feral way possible.

When Levi was hungry, he really was, and you shouldn't stop him from eating his meal

You heard a husky chuckle, what send vibrations through your pussy, made you clench around nothing.

"Too much? Always so whiny, but this pussy tells me otherwise, love." he answered you, before you felt his tongue wiggling his way inside.

And the sight, Levi's eyes rolled back, a groan was heard. Nearly as if this was even more satisfying than actual fucking you. Your taste addicting to him, your hands had found their way in his hair. Gently tugging on the raven black strands. His hands keeping you in place.

„You have some good pussy don't you?" it was not like he expected you to say anything, but shit, this pussy had him whipped. Face buried nose deep inside your sweet pussy.

All you could do was moan, heavy eyelids shutting because you felt the next organs approaching. Indeed, he used his whole lunch break to eat.

Even when the meal was your perfect pussy on his desk. „Do I, or are you just saying this because you are literally feral now?" you were able to say something in a complete sentence. Making him a little surprised. He stopped shortly, looking up at you, his lips glossy from your juices. Running down his chin. His look hard as usual, but with a certain spark in his eyes when it came to you.

He took one hand from your thighs, just to smear your slick arousal over your puffy clit, making you shudder nicely for him.

Maybe you had been too bold to tell him he is feral, as if he would not know that your taste was his weakness. But he could eat you out until his jaw hung slack, just to see you squirm.

„Feral? Says the one who is literally shoving my face towards her cute cunt." he pointed out gruffly, his thumb spreading your lower lips just a little.

He smirked before spitting right onto your sopping wet folds.

„You make it not easy with the way you eat-„ you were interrupted by a sudden swat right onto your precious cunt. Making you whine, looking at your captain with such needy eyes, eyes that pleaded for mercy.

„When you really want it feral, love... I do should use the last 10 minutes of my break and making you cum onto my face. Just so you clean up your mess." he saw it now as challenge, and before you could even discuss his tongue swirled around your swollen clit with such a precise movement. These probably would be the longest 10 minutes you would endure to cuming.

Eren Yeager ~ The unfair tease

„You are such a sloppy girl." you heard him chuckle before these wet noises and slurping sounds were heard. When Eren eats, you are literally not easy off the hook. Your legs dangling over his shoulders, eyes solemnly focused on this pink slit between your thighs.

Hands around your thighs loosely, because he just loved when you wiggled your snug cunt more into his face.

„You are just so damn pretty down here." Eren spoke in awe before his tongue flicked your small bundle of nerves. Then capturing it with his sheeny lips and sucked on it. Making your back arch and moan. „P-pretty?" was all you could ask before your head landed in the pillows again. Feeling his long hair tickling your thighs.

Although, your hot boyfriend was quite the vision. His brown hair framing his face with some strands, even when the most was in a small man bun. And the teal green eyes first looking at you, and how delicious you squirmed before they focused on the heaven between your legs.

„Well, a pretty girl, is pretty in all places." he replied to you against your heated flesh. Every time he ate you out, he made some breaks to justify teasing you. From licking all up and down your slit to simply kissing your outer lips with a cute ‚mwah'. His lips sheeny with all the slick from your pussy.

It was nearly torture, when he took his sweet time withe you, teasing and kissing, licking everywhere but not where you needed.

Just to watch how you bucked up your hips. Squirming in his grasp.

"Eren...'s not fair when you..." you tried to tell him that you wanted his mouth back on you.

You heard a chuckle from between your legs, and then his eyes darting up to look into your pretty face, your cheeks flushed to red, this cute needy expression.

"Oh, it's not fair to have such a perfect cunt, baby." he said to you low and husky, before leaning his head against your thigh, parting your thighs just a little more.

Thumbs coming up your outer lips to expose that sweet, swollen pearl that had you gasping for air when he touched it.

"Come on, be a good girl and be patient, still not done with her." Eren let you know before kissing your thigh, and then you got what you wanted.   

His hot flexible muscle inside your sopping wet cunt, wiggling his way inside you, groaning at your taste and how your juices flowed into his mouth.

When he eats, he eats nasty, wanting everything from you. Having your thighs quivering.

Having his sweet princess moan so pretty and with her hands in his hair, pulling him closer.

No matter if you were a shy one or not, the fact he wanted that you tugged and pulled on him, just so his tongue could delve deeper. He liked hair pulling, not matter if it was yours or his.

"Is this fair enough to you, sweetheart?" he asked you in between before you looked down, his eyes closed shut, just to savor your taste, his favorite meal after a long day.

He could spend hours between your thighs.

Jaw locked and tensed, and still he would be hungry for more. Would eating you out until you begged him to stop.

In general, he loved having his girl sprawled out for him, always getting you so wet without his cock in the near of your pussy.

And when you were sloppy enough for his taste, only then he freed his thick length, coating himself in your juices, making you whine even more.

How his tip would always brush over your sensitive clit, nearly shoving in before dodging. 

He was a merciless tease to you, just like now.... Fucking you with his tongue, only his tongue.

Making you all the cute noises and these squelches of your pussy, the way he slurped up every drop, it had him hooked.

The way he holds open your thighs, when he felt them shaking.

Just eagerly burying his head even more in your pussy. The pink tip of his tongue circled your clit again, before he snickered, after he heard that needy whine.

"Please Eren, am I not wet enough for you?" you pleaded head on the pillows and so needy, you wanted to cum so badly. But he always stopped before you had the slightest chance to ride that wave.

"Oh, you are dripping, babygirl. And I just love that...just a little more." he murmured before you felt his nose brushed your clit and his tongue was inside you.... It will still take some time until he would give you his dick you wanted so much.  

Armin Arlert ~ The greedy boy

"Keep going baby, grind that...ah grind that perfect pussy on my face." his smooth voice urged you, hands on your hips trying to move them for you.

Armin was always like a lovesick puppy as soon as he had his girl's pussy on his mouth.

Eager to lick up every drop from you, tasting every sweet release he could coax out of your breathless form.

You were a goddess for this boy, when eating you out, he just loved it when you rode his face.

Your pristine cunt smashing down his face, suffocating him so he could just die happy.

He knew he would, breathing you in and his skilled tongue, it made you feel like you were on cloud 9.

One of your hands, in his blonde hair, massaging his scalp and you were panting, whimpering.

Even when you were on top, and technically in charge, Armin was greedy.

"You are such a greedy boy, baby." you tried to speak, brows knit together as you felt slowly the next orgasm building up. Large hands went down to your ass, grabbing your soft flush, just to pull you even closer.

Hot tongue wiping so shamelessly over your clit, making you shudder, so he heard this cute noise again. And Armin? O hell he was gone, sky blue eyes fluttered open just to be able to catch a glimpse how you rode his face so elegant. 

For him, you were so beautiful, and it was a privilege that you allowed him to taste you.

Addicted to your taste, your pussy was just so sweet to him, honey from the most delicious ambrosia.

His cute kisses in between, when you could listen how wet his pressed a kiss right onto your swollen nub.

"You are just so, pretty. Such a pretty girl. Tasting sooo good." he praised you, always told you what your self-worth needed, always telling you how perfect you were to him. 

Your hips stuttered slightly, when your eyes rolled back, trying now more urgently to move back and forwards, your slick all smearing over his face, dripping down his chin. And he loved it, such a messy boy in bed.

You grabbed his hands, easing them from your ass, leading them right to your tits, he groaned, loved how good your tits fit into his hands. You were made for him, he was sure about this.

No matter what a big brain Armin had, sometimes he still couldn't explain why you were so satisfied with him, that you loved him...

"You are just too good to me, my good boy. You are my good boy, aren't you." you asked him, grabbing his hair just a little tighter now, as you then looked down.

What you saw... Armin, a total mess, literally whimpering just because your pussy was on his tongue.

A cute pink shade you could see over his nose and how hungry he devoured your cunt. His eyes reflecting with that pure need to satisfy you, over and over, wanting your praise.

How hard it was not to just beg you to ride his dick, because when you turned your head around, his neatly tugged away member was pulsing in his pants.

How you already could see he was leaking pre-cum, so, so much. You were sure when this would go on, Armin would just be cuming from eating you out.

His dick throbbing with so much contained need.

"I'm your good boy, ma'am." he replied before you heard that needy whimper, when he squeezed your tits, responding to the way you grabbed his head and pushed him nose deep inside your wet pussy.   

You felt just so hot, so damn wet, just because he made these puppy eyes when pleasing you. That he found more pleasure in fucking his tongue inside your sloppy hole, to have you moaning because of him, than anything else.

Calling you ma'am because it turned you on, he could be so submissive, although when you allowed, shit he grew all feral over you.

You leaned just a little back, grabbing his throbbing member that was still covered from his beige pants.

And when you did, he whined, making your pussy clench in response.

"Shit, Armin, you are so hard." you murmured, you would be so ready to ride him, to move your talented hips in circles making his head spin.   

When you wanted to pull away your addicting nectar from him, you didn't think you would have to deal with him, because no matter how desperate he was to spill his load, he wanted to make his girl cum first.

He was greedy, the future commander of Paradis, so greedy when it came to your pussy.

His elegant hands hastily grabbing your waist, just to glue you to his mouth.

"Not yet, want you to cum on my face first, pretty." he said to you, and there you heard this slight demanding edge in his voice, he served you but when he wanted something so bad he would make it clear....a submissive commander, just so eager to wiggle his tongue back inside your tight walls.

And when you heard his tone, it made your pussy flutter...

He did such good work, having you soon squirting all over his face, just to slurp up your juices and the having you propped up on his thick cock....  

Jean Kirstein ~ The sloppy and filthy gentleman

Jean, was just so into it, when he ate your pussy, he really ate. He made out with your lower parts, giving it a nice smooch, before spitting so sloppy down on it.

He was nasty, and he weren't even ashamed of it.

"So fucking sweet, baby, you are just so sweet. Can't believe you made me wait all day..." he started to speak just to interrupt himself with laying his tongue flat against your slit, to lick it up oh, so slowly before pressing a kinda tender kiss against your pulsating clit.

"...to fucking taste you, it should be a crime for refusing me access to this, treasure." Jean ended his sentence, and well he liked to babble when he was so focused on your cunt.

Dirty blonde hair messy, because you had tangled your fingers in it.

Your chest heaving because he was so mean when eating pussy, although he never denied you your orgasms, no...he made it worse, urging you to cum on him, just to spray your syrupy juices all over his handsome face.   

"Stop saying my pussy is a...fuck, babe." you wanted to complain, although it never was serious, trying to get him out of his hazy way to wipe his long tongue over your clit.

But as an answer, he just spit onto your pussy, smearing his saliva from your sensitive nub right down your clenching hole. Aching to be filled with him, and the noise you made?

Oh, that was so adorable how you chocked on your whimper. How your fingers grabbed his hair tighter.

"Let a gentleman enjoy his meal, darling. Otherwise, it's not nice, and you want to be a nice girl, for me, right?" he replied, but eyes focused on the spot between your thighs.

His thumb, just slightly teasing you, with sliding in just a tiny little bit, making your hips buck up, trying to get more, more, more.

He was anything but a gentleman right now, eating your pussy so messy, making out with it as if his life would depend on.

Groaning and rolling back his golden eyes. He could get drunk like this, without even needing whiskey.

"Please... I-I be a nice girl. Just...don't tease, I need you, Jean." you moaned so sweet, he loved hearing you like this. 

His sweet girl, so needy and stuttering. Pussy just dripping onto his tongue, your candied nectar, everything he needed. Before you felt how, he just parted your outer lips a little more, exposing your clit to the cold air.

"Look at that, you are throbbing down here, so cute. How should I stop, giving her the attention she deserves?" Jean spoke out loud his thoughts, not even being ashamed he talked about your pussy. Blowing cold air over your heated flesh, making you hiss in response.

Tugging on his hair with a little more force. You were a nice girl, mostly. But he drove you crazy when he couldn't stop talking.

"Jean!" you repeated his name, but you just saw how his glossy lips closed around your nub, sucking it in and making your toes curl.

Flicking his pointy tongue over it, making you feel so high, you nearly could taste your next orgasm.   

And Jean was so dirty, he sneaked one hand down his body, inside his pants, he was just so hard because of you.

So hard because of the way you responded to his touch. He kept his lips sealed around your clit for a further moment, sucking hard, making you gasp. Giving his balls a good squeeze.

His large hand wrapped around his length, feeling up and down his veiny shaft, while eating out his girl. Making him groan into you, what send a pleasant vibration through your core.

"Fuck, can't help when you are so delicious, gorgeous. Tell me, how much you want me to split you open, darling." he murmured husky before his tongue was back inside you, stroking your inner wall in such a precise perfection, it made you cry out.

Thighs shaking, and it didn't help when you looked down and saw that he was touching himself.

Jean was your tall, hot boyfriend, with literally the perfect dick, and he touched himself because he couldn't wait.

His thumb stroking over his leaking tip, no matter how composed he always seemed, how cool.

He was leaking and desperate for you, wanting all your juices in his mouth, down his chin. 

You tried to think straight, but it was all gone when his tongue was inside you and his nose brushed against your clit, all while he fucked his hand to you.

"Want...ahh want you to fuck me, honey." you manage to choke out, and this had him so gone, feeling his dick throbbing in his hands, hastily pulling your one thigh more apart to have that better access, to nuzzle his face in your pussy.

So you felt his light beard tickle your soft inner thighs, making the sensation all the better, making you whimper.

And this was the moment, he would do anything he can just so you cum right in his mouth, squirting your essence on his tongue so he could make you fall apart on his dick right after that...

Connie Springer ~ The chaotic talker

When he ate you out, it was chaotic. Although it nearly seemed like he purred when he felt your hands ran through his short hair, not enough to actually pull on it but enough to ran your fingertips through it so lovingly.

Although Connie had a pace, it made you anything different from crying and being an overstimulated mess, so your thighs were always shaking so cute.

"Stay still, baby." he said to you, trying to keep your legs in his grasp, before pulling you closer to his eager mouth.

Literally nuzzling his head into your puffy folds, tongue exploring every crease and crevice of your pussy, and he never got bored by it.

"When you...ahh when you go that fast I can't do much about it." you replied to him shortly looked down and saw how his yellow eyes glint up at you, oh he lived for eating pussy.   

No matter what treats he could have, you were his favorite.

Connie weren't a submissive one, not always at least, although he couldn't help when you were on top of him. But he lived for your praise, he loved to see you fall apart because of him.

Always think he weren't a great looker, not like you. Sometimes not really getting the fact he was able to pull you, a hot girl, a sweet girl, everything he wanted.

Always needing to prove it to himself that he could make you feel good.   

"But you enjoy it, sweetheart. I know you do, otherwise your little needy pussy wouldn't be clenching around nothing." he chuckled and then took a moment to look down, just to see you clench, with a following snicker.

"As I told, you can't make your pussy lie, pretty." he said before diving back in, holding your spread legs open for him.

Propped between them, kissing your lips down there over and over again.

When you looked down you saw how his tongue flicked out eagerly lapping up your slick, you were dripping for him and he enjoyed it.

Maybe even more than you, he ached to be inside you, but he worked on his impatience, besides he never could leave his girl needy on his tongue, could he?

"She is so responsive for me, isn't she." he whispered against your cunt, and you just whimpered, he loved the filthy pussy talk.

Even when you laid there, with a heaving chest, just finally wanting to cum, but he teased, made you so wet and hot, that you were the impatient.   

"So wet, so damn sweet. Hmmm...need to get her to talk a little more for me." Connie spoke before he just got a little up from his place, hovering over you, taking in your flushed state.

Your kiss bitten lips from making out with him, the way your top was halfway down because he just couldn't get enough of groping your tits when making out, this was what got him worked up in the first place.

Eyes wandering down to your pretty pink pussy. He tilted his head, why not trying a different angle?

And alone on the way he looked at you, you could see his brain cells working.

"Connie, what you are about to do?" you asked him, trying to catch your breath, and all you earned was a crooked smile.

Then he grabbed you, hands sliding down your creamy skin on your thighs, down to your ass. Grabbing the soft flesh, giving it a good measured squeeze.

Before he pulled you toward him, bringing your legs up to him, holding up your lower back so you were propped on your shoulders down the mattress.

"Switching things up, love. Got the feeling you would cum real good like this." he replied, holding you so secure in his hands before kissing your ankle, and then lowering his head.   

His knees dig into the plush mattress of the bed, your hips bucking upwards, you felt a little embarrassed in this position, but it felt good, when Connie fucked his tongue inside your needy hole, before just spitting down on your cunt.

"Yeah that's it...you like it when I do this right?" he talked, holding you on your thighs up.

All you could do was whine and nod, but you weren't aware that he wasn't talking to you.

"Shhh, baby, talking to m other pretty girl here. Listen how good I make her feel." he just shhhd you, talking to your pussy, licking over your clit, what made you close your eyes shut.

"You talk to...never mind." you then decided to just take it as it was, his tongue feeling too good to question anything, your pussy drunk boyfriend said.

[doesephs]

yurifying kevjean because i’m a liar and have not taken a break 🚬🚬