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kirsextein · 1 year

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HE CAN EAT IT…

He’s a tongue ring enthusiast; eats pussy like a god and gets a fucking KICK out of the way you try and bite back your moans when he’s inbetween your legs.

Has the slickest grin when he looks up at you to find your glossy lips parted, brows furrowed, and your thighs quaking the slightest when you feel his breath wash over your messy, neglected pussy.

“C’mon,” You groan, hands wound in his hair as you attempt to pull him back in. He slaps your inner thigh harshly, frowning at your impatience. “Please, please please!”

His lips wrap tight around your clit, making your back arch and your hips buck against his face, your body falling victim to the way he toys with you. You can hardly think straight, let alone form coherent thoughts as his fingers work you open. “You wanna cum baby? C’mon.”

His tongue laves at your sensitive nub, lidded eyes watching the way you dance on the edge of your release. This is the shit he loves; watching the way you come undone at his hands. Not your fingers, one one of the numerous toys you share—Just him.

Watching you cum makes his cock throb in his sweats. he’s off his knees and kissing you stupid in a heartbeat, remnants of your arousal still on his tongue. You moan against his lips, sucking the taste of yourself off his tongue and it’s enough to make him push you down into the cushions, slotted right between your legs, grinding against your pussy.

He feels like a mess, you look a mess; Everything feels just fucking right for him to fuck a baby into you. “My turn, baby.”

jean, eren, atsumu, suna, tooru, issei, tetsuro, yuu, suguru, toji, denki, hanta, shoto, kirishima, chifuyu, kazutora, ran, rindou

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kirsextein · 1 year

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So, the war of fire and blood began.

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kirsextein · 2 years

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scetches of toya made in different time

the last one from my au

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kirsextein · 2 years

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kirsextein · 2 years

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Darling do you think I'm a freeloader? Because all I do is live in your thoughts for free.

DO NOT USE OR REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION

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kirsextein · 2 years

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brine jean kirschtein/reader (AOT) word count: 1.5k tags: hurt/comfort, jean being the best most sweetest boy, just an extremely self indulgent piece if i'm being honest, tw: implied mental illness/distress

"Wanna go to the beach tomorrow?"

"What's the occasion?" It's the same thing he always asks, and has as long as you've known him, no matter what you're proposing. The same thing he'd respond to the proposition to go to the grocery store on a Wednesday afternoon.

You take comfort in that familiarity.

You clear your throat, voice a little thick as you reply: "I just don't really wanna be alone right now."

Jean doesn't need you to say anything else.

He doesn't need you to apologize for the fact it's been days since he's heard from you.

He doesn't need to ask if you're okay.

And so the next day, even though it's far from summer and way too cold to properly enjoy the sun and sand of a beach, the two of you load into his car and make the forty-five minute drive to the coast.

You listen to music along the way, playlists you took great pride in crafting when you'd felt a little less blue, and the familiar songs and sound of Jean humming along to his favourites from his place behind the wheel slowly helps you feel better, if only a little bit.

You stop at a gas station to buy some snacks and drinks which you pack away into your beat-up little backpack, keeping out only a package of salty pretzels and bottle of soda to share between the two of you while you finish the drive.

The beach is grey when you get there. Fog hovering over the water about a mile off shore; cold, briny mist hanging in the air and kissing your cheeks as the two of you settle down into the sand. You can taste the salt on your lips as your tongue peeks out to moisten them--though that could be leftover from the pretzels.

Jean brought blankets to sit on, grabbing them from the trunk before he locked his car, and even a few more to wrap around yourselves-- having anticipated the less than ideal climate.

You sit in silence for a long time, listening to the waves rush up the shore.

"You've been quiet."

He doesn't just mean today. You know that. You've been absent for the past week or so, emotionally distant even longer than that. It had been days since you'd responded to anyone's text or calls.

You were just in one of your moods.

It happened sometimes, as much as you loathed it. Like something in you just stopped working, failed to cooperate with you no matter how desperately you wanted it to. Synapses failing to fire.

"I know," you reply softly to his comment.

He doesn't tell you he's been worried. The way his eyes have been scanning your face when he thinks you don't notice from the very moment you slumped into his passenger's seat has already given that away.

Heat burns behind your eyes, a familiar tightness in your throat.

You draw your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them with your warm blanket draped around your shoulders.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, I know this happens sometimes," he tells you, gentle yet firm in his resolve.

"I hate it," your voice breaks halfway through the words. "I hate feeling like this-"

You watch a big wave swell a few metres out from the shore.

"-I hate not feeling like myself. I hate not being able to take care of my shit. I hate not knowing how to reply to text messages-"

The wind cools the hot tears as they track down your cheeks.

"-I hate feeling like people hate me."

Jean's arm winds itself around your shoulders, sidling up beside you on the blanket. Warm and solid and there at your side.

As ever.

"No one could ever hate you."

"Connie might," you snort, but the sound is wet with tears, "I have 432 missed texts from him."

You pull your phone from the pocket of your hoodie and pass it over to Jean. He unlocks it with your passcode that he's long memorized, wincing when he sees the number of red notifications dotted across your home screen. He taps his way across the device, handing it back to you after a moment.

When you look again all of the notifications have been cleared.

You feel a little better.

"They're just checking in. They all care about you, 's all," Jean uses the corner of his blanket to wipe at the tears clinging to your cheeks. You slump into his side.

"I miss them."

"I think they'd like to hear you say that."

"I just don't know how to reach out."

You never do, when you get like this. Scared to break the silence that you'd created between you and all of the people that you loved.

"It's fucking freezing!"

A familiar voice has your head snapping towards the stairs leading down to the beach from the parking lot.

A handful of faces you recognize are rapidly approaching, arms laden with blankets and cold winter beach day accessories.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

Connie flops down onto your blanket the minute he reaches you, kicking up sand along the way.

"God what a shit day to wanna come to the beach--lemme in there," he says, prying his way under your blanket, nestling himself into your warmth.

"Fuck Jean, that text couldn't have come at a better time, I've had to piss for like 25 minutes," Eren says, helping Mikasa spread another blanket out across from yours while Armin weighs the edges down with rocks he'd found laying about.

"Nasty," Jean replies with a curl of his lip.

"He kept saying he was gonna pee in a bottle if you didn't tell us we could come out soon," Connie chirps, head poking up from where it had been resting on your shoulder. "I bet him 15 bucks he wouldn't."

"Please tell me you didn't," you say warily, looking up at Eren with wide eyes.

He grins. "Nah, went in the bushes on the way down."

"Stay away from my food with your nasty piss hands, dumbass." Jean bats Eren's arm away as he reaches for a bag of chips that rests in front of you.

"Oh, I have sanitizer," Armin says helpfully, reaching for the bag he has strapped across his chest, producing a small bottle from its contents.

Sasha plops down on the other side of Connie, peeking over at you. She has orange dust crusted on the tips of her fingers and around her lips from the cheesy snack she's eating.

"Wan'some?" she asks, holding a (borderline industrial sized) plastic jar of cheese balls towards you, already half-eaten.

You nod, picking out a handful for yourself.

"We brought stuff for a bonfire, do you think it's too damp to get it going?" Mikasa asks, staring out at the fog rolling in as the ends of her short hair lift with the breeze.

"Oh, I can get it going," Eren says confidently, pulling a lighter from the pocket of his sweatpants and flicking it on.

"Eren," the dark haired girl sighs, "don't you remember what happened last time?"

Last time meaning the time he'd burned off half of his own eyebrow trying to light a fire to celebrate your high school graduation so many moons ago.

"Yeah, the spock brow was not your best look," Connie chimes in, waggling his finger at his brows demonstrably.

You choke on a laugh.

After numerous assurances that he would not lose any hair in the process, Eren, Connie and Armin set to work building a modest bonfire a few paces away.

You curl into Jean's side, one blanket now wrapped around you both, burying your face into the collar of his hoodie. He smells like clean laundry, the salt air, and the same cologne he's worn since you bought him a bottle of it for Christmas years prior.

"Thank you," you say quietly as you listen to the dulcet tones of Eren and Connie bickering about log placement while Armin tries his best to mediate between them.

Jean's arm tightens around your shoulders, drawing you even further into his warmth.

He doesn't need you to say it though.

He sees the gratefulness in the way your shoulders have eased.

The way your eyes shine when the boys finally get the fire to spark to life, cheering exuberantly at their own success.

He hears it in your quiet giggles as you watch Sasha and Mikasa squabble playfully over the last handful of cheeseballs.

Feels it as you go slack against his side, the sky long gone dark, your chest rising and falling with a sleep that comes easier to you than any had for weeks.

This is what the occasion is.

And it's a great one, at that.

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kirsextein · 3 years

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Gojo when he finds out all the stuff he taught Maki is being used to eradicate the whole Zenin clan and eventually the higher ups: