Boop Me To Get Your Achievements.

Girl who cares so much it makes her sick: whatever I don’t even care

god gives his worst gastrointestinal issues to his most undeserving victims

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Reader

Rating: explicit

Count: 2.8k

Tags: modern day, reunions, alcohol, reader is a couple years older than rei, reader is a galliard but no details, flirting, smut, cunnilingus, one use of “she”, pining

A/N: wow, wil actually writing something? is the world ending? no but really, what better way to kick things off than with my beautiful baby boy? this isn’t my best, but it did get some juices flowing. enjoy!

You’re in one of the tall stools at the bar, facing forward while you sip from your rocks glass. He doesn’t know if he would recognize you from the back, but having seen your face already, he knows. There’s no mistaking it.

Tight jeans, a scoop neck, and a dark blazer, you are the picture of business casual—fresh off work like so many others, seeking solace in the form of a solitary drink. You don’t look particularly approachable, eyes locked on your phone, and yet some fucking guy has taken the seat next to you and is trying (and failing) to get your attention. Dude’s been trying to chat you up for a solid ten minutes, and so far all you’ve offered has been a tight-lipped smile. More of a grimace, honestly.

Reiner doesn’t think he needs to save you, assumes you can still handle yourself like you used to.

But god, he loves the idea of swooping in and relieving you of any more useless chit chat.

Downing the rest of his drink, Reiner stands from the table he’s been sitting at for the past hour. He weaves through bodies and chairs, growing shorter of breath with every second until he slips into the space next to you and clears his throat.

“This guy bothering you?” he asks with a grin, and when you turn to look at him your expression of annoyance immediately turns to surprise and then genuine glee.

“Holy shit, Reiner?” you practically shout, and he is a little too pleased with the way you immediately lean in for a hug.

The dude on your other side swears under his breath and stalks away, all according to plan.

“Hey, been a while,” Reiner responds, giving you a firm squeeze before letting go.

“Yeah, like, a decade, Jesus. Look at you!”

And you are—looking at him, that is. Much different from how you did when you were kids. When he was just another little brother to you, just Pok and Marcel’s friend crushing on their big sister.

You hold your hands out and gesture at him. “You’re so… large!”

Reiner chuckles and reminds you, “I always have been.”

“Yeah, but like, fuck.”

He’s not quite as broad as he was in high school, lost some muscle without his football regiment, but he grew a couple inches taller his freshman year of college. He doesn’t know how that happened. His hair is only a little longer than he used to wear it, but he does have facial hair that you’re probably not used to seeing on him.

And, you—at almost 30 you look about the same as you did when you were 20. Your face isn’t as round but definitely still gets you carded at bars. Hair is shorter, thighs a little thicker, hinting at wider hips. You’re a woman, he thinks. You always were to him, but now he’s seeing you as a real adult, just like you’re seeing him.

“I thought you had some fancy job in Stohess. What’re you doing here?”

“Business, mostly,” you sigh dramatically. “There’s a branch of the company downtown that they asked me to check in on, so I agreed as long as I could take some vacation days to visit the fam-bam,” a pause and then a little grin, “and apparently little Rei-bear too.”

Reiner outwardly cringes at the nickname you used to tease him with all the time. It was so stupid but not as stupid as the fact that it never failed to make him blush.

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the little upturn of his lips. “Not exactly little but whatever.”

“You’ll always be little to me. Rambunctious thirteen-year-old trying to act cool by chugging energy drinks—breaking your fucking arm skateboarding,” you laugh.

“Drinking too much with Marcel sophomore year and having to call you to pick us up,” he adds with a shake of his head.

Embarrassed as he is at the memories, he still throws a leg over the stool next to you, finally settling in since it seems you are, in fact, happy to see him.

As the two of you fall into an easy conversation, Reiner orders another drink for himself, telling the bartender, “and another of whatever she’s drinking.”

“I promised myself I’d only have one,” you complain.

“You’ve already had at least two.” Not because you’re acting like it, just because he saw you.

“And, how would you know that?” you ask with a raised eyebrow, “don’t tell me you’ve been watching me from afar.”

Whoops.

Reiner’s mouth opens as if he has something lined up, but he doesn’t. He can’t exactly explain it away.

Thankfully, you’re more amused than anything else. “And, you waited that long to rescue me from that doucher?” You put a hand over your chest in an exaggerated way. “How dare?”

Letting out a relieved sigh, Reiner forces what he hopes is a casual smile and shrugs. “Figured you could handle yourself. Never had a problem putting Zeke in his place back in the day, so—”

“Yeah, until I gave up on it,” you interrupt, making a face of disgust.

“What do you mean?”

Zeke Jaeger was the older brother of another one of Reiner’s friends, Eren. You hung out with your little posse while he hung out with his, and more often than not it resulted in some sort of overlap, meaning Reiner got to watch Zeke come onto you over and over again then get rejected over and over again. It was well-deserved. Zeke always gave off a sort of pretentious yet scummy vibe.

“Eventually I just got tired,” you say with a wave of your hand. “Well, tired and reckless, I should say.”

Reiner has to fight to not let his emotions show on his face. What emotions those are, he isn’t quite sure. He just knows that his instinct is to scowl.

“Reckless how?”

You tilt your head to the side as you look at him, humor dancing in your eyes. “I don’t know if I should poison your virgin brain with such topics.”

Reiner scoffs. He wants to defend himself, tell you he is definitely not a virgin and hasn’t been for a long time now—before he even went to college, thank you very much—but the more he denies, the less mature he’ll look, and he is trying very, very hard to be the mature man he has grown into.

“I mean, I don’t really care. Can’t blame you if you don’t wanna talk about your dirty little tryst.”

“Really just nothing to talk about,” you confess, “a casual thing—fun, I guess, but nothing super, uh, impressive.”

God, it’s so hard not to ask. What wasn’t impressive—his personality or his dick? Reiner wants to know so that he can make up for it (or fantasize about making up for it the way he used to).

“You’re not good at hiding your curiosity, Rei-bear,” you giggle.

“What can I say?” he tries, “guess I’m just a curious guy.”

“Are you now?” You take a sip of your drink while keeping your eyes on him. “What other kinda things are you curious about?”

No reason to answer out loud. All Reiner does is chuckle and go for his own drink. You’re both adults, no rings on your fingers, catching up for the first time in a decade. He’s sure you can guess his curiosities, and he could just be flattering himself, but there might be a little curiosity on your part too.

As the two of you catch up Reiner can feel the atmosphere shift between you both, something heavy and humid.

“You really did grow up nicely,” you say a little quieter than you have been but still clear enough for him to hear.

Reiner can’t help the blush that creeps up his neck just like he can’t help the way his mouth pulls up in a smirk.

“Yeah?”

You smile around the straw between your teeth which is more than enough to build his confidence.

“You did too,” he pauses, then thinks what the hell and adds, “but I always had a thing for you.”

An amused smile plays at your lips. “I know.”

“What do you mean ‘you know’?”

“I mean, big sisters always know,” you reach out and playfully pinch his arm, “also, you weren’t very subtle.”

Reiner rolls his eyes, but he can’t find it in himself to be all that embarrassed. He was a teenager, horny 24/7. What was he supposed to do?

“It’s okay. It was cute.”

It’s a good thing you’re telling him that now and not when he was 15. Reiner can only imagine what that word would have done to his self-esteem back then.

“Still think I’m cute now?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Well,” you turn on your stool to face him fully, empty glass now pushed away from you, “I don’t think I’d use that particular descriptor now.”

It’s difficult not to preen under your appreciative gaze. Reiner isn’t sure if you’re tipsy or just bold, but you stare at him in a way you never have before, eyelids low, pink tongue darting out to lick your lips.

This… this is lust. This is how he looked at you when he was younger, how he’s looking at you now like nothing’s changed. Except this time it isn’t one sided. This time you look as bothered as he feels.

Reiner grew out of his cockiness years ago, has been told he’s sweet by recent partners—one of the good ones. Gentle.

He doesn’t think he can be gentle now, though. Not with you widening your thighs where you sit, as if beckoning him to stand between them.

Not after waiting for so long.

“My apartment’s about twenty minutes away,” he offers, moving the small distance it takes to crowd into your space.

“My hotel’s even closer.”

Heat races down Reiner’s spine. That’s it, then. It’s confirmed. You do want him. He isn’t just imagining things.

“Right around the corner, actually.” You run a hand down his chest, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his shirt.

Without further conversation, you both rush to pay out, leaving a few bills on the counter before walking out. Your fingers lace between Reiner’s, a sensation he had only ever dreamed of feeling.

Your room is on the second floor, and once locked safely inside, you drop your purse on the floor and reach for him, pulling until he’s pressing you into the door.

“My Rei-bear, all grown up,” you tease, hands at the back of his neck.

He grips your hips hard enough to make your mouth open, lowering his voice when he leans in to ghost over your lips.

“M’gonna make sure you never call me that again after tonight,” he rumbles.

“Yeah? And how do you plan on doing that?”

His younger self usually fantasized about taking his time with you, being the best you’ve ever had, and yada yada, and while Reiner still wants to make you quake, he simply lacks the capacity to move slowly. He’s pent up with a side of giddy, but mostly he’s just desperate—desperate for your mouth as it attaches to his, for your tongue as he strokes over it with his own, for the way you scratch down his scalp.

Reiner tries and fails to suppress a shiver, heart ricocheting in his chest and making his whole body vibrate against yours. You taste like cherries and alcohol, and he can’t get enough. All he wants to do is drink you down, wants your aftertaste stuck in the back of his throat for the rest of his life.

You grind into him, press against his painfully hard erection and smile into the heated kiss. Your hand travels downward to palm him through his pants, but Reiner catches your wrist and shakes his head.

“I’ve waited years for this, and you think you’re the one calling the shots?” He grins at the way your eyes widen in surprise, a gasp pulled from you when Reiner catches you off guard and pulls you away from the door and all but spins you to the bed.

You’re both quick to strip down to your underwear, though Reiner immediately unclasps your bra and gets rid of it as well. You arch your back in invitation, and Reiner moves at the speed of fucking light to bury his face in your tits, nipping and sucking, running his tongue over your peaking nipples—fit in his mouth so nice, soft fat spilling between his fingers as he paws and gropes.

“Having fun?” you giggle, moaning softly when he tugs one of the buds between his teeth. Reiner doesn’t answer, just peers up at you as he plays, pushing his hips into the bedding as he does.

With other goals on his mind, he begins scooting down your body, leaving as many marks as he can until he kneels between your legs and starts sliding your panties down. Puffy pussy exposed, Reiner feels his eyes dilate and his mouth begin to water.

“Fucking Christ…” he breathes, gliding shaky fingers over your dampened folds as if in awe. He’s wanted this for so long, and now that he has you laid bare before him, Reiner feels out of control. Most of his organized fantasies left his mind some time ago, but now he’s losing his sanity altogether. Any coherent thought. Gone. All he wants to do is—

You make the most gorgeous noise when he pushes his tongue inside of you, trapping your thighs against his biceps to keep you from squirming.

“Oh—oh my god,” you whimper, fingers curling in his hair as your hips roll.

Reiner drools all over you, adding to your juices only to slurp it all up. He’s shameless as he eats you out, smacking and lapping and groaning all while trying to memorize the way you taste and how soft you are clamping down on his tongue and the middle finger he slips inside of you.

He moves to suckle on your clit, circling it and growing even more ravenous when you start to tremble.

“Rei—Rei, fuuuck…”

“Good?” he rasps, though judging by the strands of arousal that are dripping from you, he already knows your answer.

“Yes, god yes, don’t stop.”

He crooks his finger, stroking your insides until he finds that extra swollen spot and presses against it, his cock twitching when you begin to leak even more.

“God, your fucking pussy is so perfect,” he groans, swiping his tongue up and down your slit to swallow everything you offer him.

And, you offer a lot, soaking his mouth and chin, creaming around his finger, and Jesus he wants to be inside of you, wants to bury himself in you and make you scream his name.

But before that he wants you to cum on his tongue. He wants you to fall apart just like this, with your toes curled and your body bucking, and your cunt so messy for him.

“O—oh my god.” He glances up in time to see your eyes grow wide and your jaw drop, almost like you’re surprised. “Oh my god, Rei, I’m gonna—fuck, don’t stop, please…”

He keeps hitting that spongy spot, keeps flicking your clit back and forth, gripping you tighter as your back arches off the bed. Your orgasm crests, and Reiner quickly seals his lips over your clit, pulling wave after wave out of you and tasting squirt on his tongue.

The only thing that keeps him from coming in his boxers is the promise of fucking you, but he still feels pre drip from his cockhead as his abs flex with restraint.

When your body uncurls in blissful relaxation, Reiner stops sucking, gives you a few soft licks as you pet his hair.

“Holy shit. Where did you learn to do that?” You huff, “thought I was gonna black out there for a second.”

Reiner chuckles and places a kiss on your inner thigh.

“Maybe you will by the end of the night,” he smirks, wiping his face with his own discarded shirt, “since I’m nowhere near finished with you.”

You look at him with foggy eyes, a fuck drunk smile on your face as you sit up and grab him by the shoulders to pull him down on top of you. Reiner catches himself, hands planted on either side of your head as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Promise?”

Instead of responding out loud, Reiner dips low for a kiss, deep and slow. You’re stupid if you think making you come once will be enough to satiate him after all this time. He wants to leave his mark, mold you to himself, make you ache for him like he still aches for you.

He needs to make you his the way he’s always wanted you to be, and now that he’s no longer a lovestruck boy, Reiner thinks he just might have a chance.

Starry Night

Sypnosis - Sitting together on a starry night...what could possibly be wrong with that picture perfect scenario?

Pairing - Satosugu x ! Female ! Reader

Warning(s) - mature themes

Word Count - 0.7k

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

"'Toru? What are you still doing up?"  

The sitting man jolts, his eyes flickering to you, their bright hue dimming as you cautiously enter the living room, draped in one of his shirts. His legs spread, palms patting once, twice against his thigh in a silent invitation for you – one that you accept without hesitation.  

Your head tucks into the crook of Satoru's neck, nose inhaling his scent and committing it to memory – a pleasant mixture of sandalwood and the Earth. To you, it was comfort, it was a reminder of the home that you had built with him and Suguru.  

"The stars are nice tonight, aren't they?" Satoru comments, his arms looping around your waist, holding you against him and tilting his head to rest his cheek against your hair. You hum against him, eyes flickering to the window.  

Painted against the inky black sky are the stars that you and Satoru often watched together, laid out on a blanket on the front lawn and pointing up at them as if you had never seen them before. It was always cold during those nights, which usually resulted in Satoru tugging you against his chest, your body molding against his like a perfect little puzzle piece.  

You two would lay there for hours, simply basking in the other's presence and staring up at the flickering yellow lights that adorned the sky. Both of your trances were only broken by Suguru's softened voice, scolding you both for being out so late and commenting how you would both likely be sick by morning.  

Only then would Satoru roll up the blanket, helping you stand with gentle hands and allowing you to make your way back to the front door first. Softened aquamarine eyes watch as you beeline for Suguru's opened arms, hugging the raven-haired man and smiling brightly as gentle kisses are laid out over your face.  

"Yeah, they're nice," you mutter offhandedly, biting back the yawn that claws up your throat. Your nose scrunches up, an action that Satoru once teased you for – though he stopped once he received a loving smack from Suguru, one paired with a gentle scolding.  

Satoru hums, his eyes fluttering shut at the warmth that radiates from your body. Your breathing had deepened significantly, a telltale sign that you had fallen asleep against him – likely lulled by the gentle thump of his heart and the even rise and fall of his chest.  

He tilts his head, pressing a gentle kiss against the crown of your head and looping his arms underneath you, lifting you against his chest and standing from the armchair. He couldn't have his darling wife sleep in such an uncomfortable position – you deserved much better than that.  

Satoru walks silently to your bedroom, closing the door with his foot and gently laying you down in the sheets, tugging them around you and smiling gently as you adjust yourself. A content sight falls from your nose, cheek smushed against your pillow as you doze.  

He climbs in beside you, tucking you against his chest and tangling his legs with your own. He blinks once, twice...then allows his tired eyes to finally close, welcoming sleep as it beckons to him with softened hands – hands that felt oddly similar to your own. 

And somewhere across the way, resting on numbed legs and rubbing together cold hands, another pair of eyes watches the stars as they glitter in the night sky. He thinks back to a time where he would have enjoyed the stars – maybe even admired their bright yellow hue.  

But that time is not now, and it is a time that he knows he can never go back to – not after what was said and what was done. Besides, he knew it was for the better. His departure from a domestic life was challenging...he had lost count of the tears that he had shed.  

Tonight was one of those nights where he longed for the warmth of a bed, he longed for those two familiar bodies pressed against his own. He longed for the mornings where he would only half-listen to Frank Sinatra and watch as breakfast was prepared for him. He longed for the two people who had shown him endless care and support...but those two people were nothing but a pained memory.  

Tilting his head up at the stars and at the crescent moon, shaky lips turn upward in a smile – one accompanied by salty tears that drip down his cheeks. His mind flashes images of those he longed for; one with snowy-white hair and the other with the kindest smile.  

"The stars are nice tonight, aren't they?" Suguru mutters to himself, hoping that somehow – someway – maybe you and Satoru would hear him. 

Repost of Instagram post by alessandra_sanguinetti:

“In 2004 I worked as an intern in Newsweek and had to go through the wires coming in from the Middle East.

The Iraq war was raging. Israel was committing its routine violations and killings.

The images were devastating and unequivocally condemning of both the USA and Israel, but I remember the editors would reject all my picks and demand images of burnt cars or vague images of destruction.

So I brought a hard drive and collected everything they didn't publish.

It was my first live glimpse of the lack of ethics or integrity in most US media.

Not the journalists on the ground, but of the senior editors making the calls - in their self important glass cubicles.

And no, to the cynics out there..it's not all too complicated to discuss on social media.

Social media is the only reason we know what's happening in Palestine.

And the only reason mainstream news has to keep up and sprinkle some actual news now and then.

Meanwhile we are seeing much less footage coming out of Gaza - Israel has been killing off all the journalists.

This is terrifying.”

Photo credits: Nasser Ishtayeh, Yossi Alon, Saif Dahlah, Jaafar Ashtiyeh, Musa Al-Shaer, Abed Onar Qusini

I'm once again thinking about Kento Nanami..

𝗛𝗢𝗧 𝗠𝗢𝗠𝗦 𝗡𝗘𝗔𝗥 𝗠𝗘 *+:｡.｡

summary. jjk men falling for single moms. | wc. 2k+

cw/ tw. fem!reader, parenthood, oc, domestic fluff, mild amount of angst, friends to lovers, co-parenting, pining, slight suggestiveness with nanami's, pet names (ex. dove, sweetheart)

featuring. gojo, yuuji, sukuna, nanami

an. I'm really telling on myself rn, but I've been binging ghibli movies so I'm feeling soft, okay? also, this is a minstrel of what this fic used to be, but I rewrote it and it's basically a whole new thing and I never thought I'd put the words 'fluff' and 'sukuna' in the same post lmao, comments and reblogs are appreciated ༉‧₊˚.

𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 ༊*·˚

Being a single mom has its ups and downs, especially when it comes to dating. You can easily recount the times you sat across from a date who looked like they ate something sour after the mention of your daughter, how they paused, spine going stiff—never keen on the type of baggage that comes in small packages.

So it’s only natural to expect the same with Gojo when you tell him on the first date in the back of a coffee shop, wincing internally with a tight grip around your cup. You wait for the awkward laugh, the promise to call you later, even though they never do. 

But then he surprises you.

He smiles—that same one that filled your belly with butterflies the first time you ran into him in the elevator at work—gaze unexpectedly soft, and answers, “What’s her name?”

You take a sip of your coffee to distract yourself from that fluttery feeling in your chest. “Mai.”

Your heartbeat doesn’t slow for hours after that date; you admit you hadn’t expected him to take it in full stride.

Almost two years later, sometimes you still can’t believe it—how he fits so effortlessly in your life, that he’s shown you time and time again that he has no problem treating your daughter like his own.

He calls her princess; treats her like one, too. One day, you walk into the living room to find Mai putting clips in Satoru's hair and unicorn stickers on his face, letting her ramble about her day at daycare (because the afternoon reading circle is apparently very eventful for a bunch of four-year-olds).

On the days that he’s off work, you have to keep the fridge stocked with food, or else they’ll eat nothing but sweets all day. And when he does cook, he'll have a chair pushed up to the counter for Mai to see and help—though your kitchen is often left a total mess afterward.

It’s after dinner, Mai tucked into bed, his arms tucked around your waist while you scrub a pot, a thumb tracing your abdomen—sweetheart, what if we had another?—and you let yourself think about it. Can’t help it.

This time you won’t be alone in a delivery room, Satoru’s large hands comfortingly wrapped around yours before holding his newborn for the first time, one with Satoru’s smile and maybe your eyes. Another set of small feet running down the hall for cuddles in the morning… 

You reach down and cup his hand, despite it being covered in sudsy dishwater, though he doesn’t seem to care.

“I think…I think I’d like that.”

𝗬𝗨𝗨𝗝𝗜 ༊*·˚

He’s always been your best friend: since the day you fell off the swingset when you were six and after you found out you were pregnant and never heard anything back from the father. 

It's possibly the best and worst thing that could have happened to you. 

The best because he’s there for you until the twins come screaming into the world; it’s no surprise they’re just as drawn to his sunny personality as everyone else. Yuuji becomes a shadow at your side in the weeks after, becoming somewhat of a quasi-parent even though you never asked him to, which is why it’s the worst.

Those easy smiles are slowly replaced by the feeling of your heart trembling in your chest whenever you catch him hastily tripping up the stairs to the nursery to wake the twins from their nap. Or when he takes the three of you to the park for a picnic and spends the entire time staring at one of the sleeping little boys on your chest as if they’re doing cartwheels.

You try not to think about it too much unless you want to risk losing Yuuji, to crumble whatever solid foundation your friendship sits on. Plus, why would he want to settle with a single mom anyway?

You’ve seen the girls he’s dated, and none of them walk out of the house wearing a sweater covered in baby food stains, pretty, willowy girls who put a little more effort into their appearance than you have in months. 

And the sadder, more obvious answer is that there’s no way he feels the same about you—sweet, whole-hearted Yuuji who’s friendly to strangers and always willing to help wherever he’s needed. 

You’re not the exception.

There’s some truth to that, which rapidly disintegrates as the months go on. You can no longer ignore how Yuuji lights up whenever someone accidentally mistakes him for the twin’s father or mention how cute your family is.

It’s easy to imagine until you’re so wrapped up in thoughts that make you bite back a smile—of coming home to Yuuji napping with the twins on the couch, quiet evenings snuggled up under soft blankets on the couch, kissing him when he leaves for work in the morning—that you nearly miss what he says to the sweet old man who’s been giving Yuuji unsolicited parenting advice, “Maybe she’ll actually say yes when I ask her to marry me someday.”

He’s not looking at you when he says it, but you see how his smile reaches his eyes (soft as if he’s inserted himself into the same future you thought of), and for a moment, you allow yourself to hope.

𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗨𝗡𝗔 ༊*·˚

He’s never been the type to want kids of his own, and yet he couldn’t turn a blind eye when you call him nearly two months since that night at his brother’s birthday party—hazily remembering you telling him you’re one of Yuuj’s friends before he took you back to his place—to tell him you’re pregnant.

“You don’t have to be there. I just thought you should know,” you say wetly.

“Jesus—” he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. He doesn’t think the employee breakroom at the gym is the right place to have this conversation. “Listen, don’t cry. I’ll be there, alright?”

Sukuna at least thought he’d actually be with the person he has a kid with. Over the next four years, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

There’s a lot that’s undesirable about the situation, like the fact that every time he leaves his room, he always ends up stepping on Legos because you insist on buying Hana more and leave them at his place, or that he can't eat anything these days without a small hand reaching out for his food.

But the one thing that really makes his blood curdle is whenever he has Hana for the weekend, and she rambles through a mouthful of mac n’ cheese about how you and Yuuji took her to the park, with more stories about Yuuji this and Yuuji that.

He should be grateful his brother is such a doting uncle, yet he grinds his teeth the longer his daughter prattles on.

Out of everything, this is the one thing he chooses to find an issue with: high-school sweetheart Yuuji, pictures of him found in frames all over your house; helpful and supportive, perfectly polite, always-nice-to-be-around-Yuuji who everyone gravitated towards, even you, it seems.  

He tells himself it’ll go away eventually, that strange pit of jealousy festering in his chest like an open wound. It doesn’t.

Sukuna spends so much time thinking about it that he’s thoroughly annoyed by the time you stop by to pick up Hana for the week. 

“Did you guys have a nice weekend? You seem…” Of course, you’d pick up on his shitty mood. “Upset.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, hoping you’ll leave it alone.

You don’t.

“Listen, if this is about Friday, I told you Yuuji’s okay dropping her off.”

“I bet he is,” Sukuna sneers, shoving the last of Hana’s Legos into her bag.

You huff. “What is your problem?”

“Nothing, but I bet you’ll run back to Yuuji and tell him about it anyway.”

“Are you seriously jealous of your brother?”

He scoffs but doesn’t answer.

“If you want to be with me so badly, just say it.” You put your hands on your hips. “Go on, say it.”

In the end, he breaks first. Wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, he presses his mouth to yours, fingers flexing at your little gasp. When he breaks the kiss, panting a little, he says, “I want to be with you, and I want to raise my fucking kid with you. Happy?”

There’s a scandalized gasp, and he looks down to find Hana standing there with her sandals on the wrong feet, blinking up at him with round eyes. 

“Daddy, that’s a bad word.”

“Listen here, brat—ow.”

𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗜 ༊*·˚

The first time he meets you, one of the associates for his company introduces you as his wife—a fresh-eyed college student who’s more concerned about staring at other women at the business function than the beautiful one on his arm—and he kindly shakes your hand, watching you give such devoted attention to a man undeserving of it.

What would it be like to be loved like that?

A few years have gone by when he sees you again, except this time, there’s no ring on your finger, and you’re in the middle of walking into his office for an interview with a little boy balanced on your hip.

“Sorry, my babysitter called in sick, and I couldn’t find a replacement in time—Oh.” It’s in that small moment between closing the door and hauling a diaper bug up your shoulder that you recognize him, too. “I didn’t realize you were the one doing the interview.”

He arches a brow. “No?”

“Sorry…again. I didn’t mean it like that, and I’m usually not this unprepared.” You set the toddler down on the floor and straighten out your skirt, giving him a shy, pretty smile.

Nanami swallows and gestures to the seat in front of his desk. “He can stay.”

While he asks you questions, your son—Haru, he learns—keeps busy with a coloring book that you give him, and before you leave after the interview, he silently proffers Nanami a sheet of paper filled with yellow and green crayon squiggles. 

He tacks it to the corkboard wall next to his desk.

When you start working as his office assistant, he never brings up the topic of your ex-husband. It’s obvious the man doesn’t care about his family, anyway—not when you show up most days looking worn out. 

It starts to burn in his chest, the way your eyes drop sometimes, the little reassuring nod he’ll catch you giving yourself after what must’ve been a rough morning. 

Nanami knows he’s in way over his head when he asks you out for coffee; how he’s surprised you say yes, which leads to more dates until he slowly finds that smile of warm devotion aimed in his direction.

Eventually, your things fill the empty spaces in his home, and the spare room in his house becomes a nursery. His once quiet mornings of reading the paper are now pleasantly disrupted by the smell of pancakes and Haru trying to climb into his lap to read with him. 

The first time Haru asks for Nanami after a nightmare—rubbing his wet eyes while standing near Nanami's side of the bed in his shark pajamas, sans one sock, until Nanami scoops him up and deposits him between you—he winces (because he doesn’t want it to seem like he’s taking something away from you) before he notices the soft smile curling your mouth. 

He can’t pretend to fully understand why you ever agreed to that first date when the odds weren’t terribly in his favor, but he has a long time to learn, and right now, he’s focused on other things.

"Quiet, dove,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “You're going to wake the baby..." 

thank you for reading <3

PAIRINGS ✩ — plug!connie x hyperfem!black!reader

WARNINGS ✩ — ts kinda nasty when I think abt it, sub!connie, handjob, kissing, smoking, cum eating, daddy kink

CONNIE’S back laid in between your thighs, his head resting on your stomach. You were sat up, resting all your weight on the headboard. Your pink acrylic nails wrapped around Connie’s neck.

You were bent over as you pressed kisses onto Connie’s cheek, your fenty lipgloss staining his cheek. Connie laid comfortably, counting money.

Summer Walker quietly played from the tv. You lightly bit Connie’s cheek before sucking on the spot. Connie liked being absolutely smothered in your love plus it felt kind of good.

Your hums to ‘Anna Mae’ vibrated onto Connie’s cheek, your nails lightly grazing his neck.You released his cheek, the spot looking light reddish.

“Oops” You gave the spot one more kiss. “I gave you a hickey” He turned his head towards you.

“You tryna have people think you beat on me and shit” he laughed, wrapping a band around the stack.

“You are so cute I just wanna eat your face” You dragged your acrylic nail down his face, tapping his nose. You squished his cheeks together before kissing his pouted lips multiple times. You didn’t give him any time to speak, just suffocating him with your affection.

“You’re so good to me. Always taking care of me, can I take care of you pa?” You innocently ask, your lips still brushing against his. His eyes close and you can feel his body melt into yours, feeling a little needy. “Yeah” he softly breathed out.

The way this big ass angry tattooed drug dealer was being held by you, feeling so so vulnerable. You ran your hands down his white tee, pulling it up slightly. You rubbed at his lower stomach, pulling a groan from Connie.

“Gonna make you feel really good” You kissed at Connie’s neck as he tilted his head, giving you access to his sensitive neck.

Your hand reached under his grey sweats, rubbing his length over his boxers. You could hear small whiny breaths coming from Connie as you slipped your hand under the band. You tugged his heavy hard length out into sight. His tip pink and leaking, the base fading into a darker brown. Both of you guys were focused on what you were doing to him. He licked his lips, making them glossy and wet.

“Why do you have to be so cute, sexy, and adorable?” You kissed his wet lips. Connie was too focused on your hand stroking his dick. Your smooth palm twisting right on his tip, getting his pre-cum all over your hand.

You watched as you mindlessly sucked on Connie’s neck, starting to fasten your pace.

“Ay coño” Connie breathed out, his hips bucking into your hand.

“Does it feel good?” You squeeze him at the base of his cock.

“mhmm” He nods his head. You smile before repeating his famous saying, “Use your words”

Connie gasped as your thumb rubbed over his tip, circling around. “Yeah.. y-yes fuck” Connie’s thighs clenched, feeling so good. The bottom of his white tee was clenched between his teeth, trying to refrain from moaning as loud as he wants to.

You took notice of that, “Don’t do that daddy I wan’ hear you” Connie’s cock pulsed at the petname.

“Say it again” Connie whined as you tortured his tip with your hand.

“You gonna cum daddy?” You now have both hands twisting up and down his cock. Connie’s chest heaved up and down as his toes curled in his socks.

“Y-y…esss” Connie went limp in your hands, his cum oozing out of his tip. You slowly twist and squeeze his base, making sure to empty his fully.

You hear Connie wince as you still stroke his cock. You let go, looking at all of the cum on your hand.

You bring your hand up to Connie’s mouth, his tongue licking up alll his cum. Connie was pretty shocked at the action, his cock rising once again.

“How ‘bout I ride you until you cry” You suggest to Connie, your boobs all in his face.

What a horny monster he created

BEST FRIENDS & BAD IDEAS

♡ — jean kirstein x f!reader

Big aspirations and even bigger dildos—in which a poorly thought out plan makes it incredibly hard to act like your feelings for Jean Kirstein are platonic. Not when they’re anything but. And especially not when you’re half naked in his lap.

18+ ONLY

wc — 2.7k

prompt — cockwarming, creampie

additional content — NSFW, 18+, best friends to lovers speed run, dildo use, implied masturbation, unprotected p in v, praise kink, jean kirstein’s big dick

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” Jean growls, and his low, rough tone sends you off-kilter, shoving you headfirst over the precarious edge you’ve been foolishly dangling from.

In retrospect, perhaps this wasn’t the best idea.

–

In the long list of questionable decisions you’ve made today, one of the first catalysts guaranteeing inevitable disaster was your lack of foresight to lock your bedroom door before stripping off your shorts and underwear and preparing to lower yourself down onto the ridiculously large dildo that had been delivered in an even more comically large Amazon box this morning. 

Your best friend of many years and college roommate, Jean Kirstein, came home just as your makeshift “stand”—you’d hastily attached the suction cup at the base of the dildo to the last clean plate in the cabinet for lack of a better surface—went flying across the rug, ripping the few inches you’d manage to ease down onto right out of your lube-slick channel. You’d hit the floor with a thud, growling in frustration. This, understandably, had the unfortunate effect of attracting the concern of said roommate, who swiftly burst into your room as if you were in the middle of being robbed. 

The concern quickly morphed into hysterics as he spotted the giant purple dildo wiggling uselessly a few feet away from where you were lying on your stomach, punching the carpet and yelling at him to get out with as much dignity as you could muster.

“That’s my shirt,” he commented dryly, ignoring your pleas for him to forget everything he had just seen. 

“Well it was in my drawer,” you spat back, trying to push the dildo-plate behind you, although the damage was already done.

Jean leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. “I have so many questions.”

“Our business hours are between 8 and 5, so you’ll have to call back tomorrow. Sorry,” you said with a dismissive wave, subtly kicking the plate and dildo beneath the bed. 

The suction cup chose that moment to pop off, and all ten inches came rolling back into view right where a bar of sunlight was stretching across the floor from the window. It would have almost looked artsy. 

If it weren’t a fucking dildo.

“I thought you ordered a lamp,” he observed mildly, motioning to the huge cardboard box you’d yet to take out to the recycling bin. 

“I’m gonna order you a fleshlight if you don’t shut up,” you grumbled, shoving on a pair of sweatpants.

Jean crinkled his nose, running a hand through his hair. “That thing’s so big, the landlord might start charging us for three tenants if he sees it. Is this a cry for help?”

“I’m trying to prepare myself for seducing Eren at the party Saturday night,” you whisper-yelled, as if anyone else was going to overhear you in your otherwise empty apartment. 

“Jaeger?!” he barked out with a disbelieving laugh. 

“Everyone says he’s huge. I don’t want it to be a disaster.”

“He’s not that fucking big!” he exclaimed incredulously. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Can you like, go be somewhere tonight? Go get so high with Conny you forget you saw anything? I’m gonna go try in the bathroom instead.”

“You’re kicking me out of my own apartment so you can shove a giant, sparkly purple dildo inside of yourself imagining it’s Jaeger’s dork ass?”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Jean.”

He groaned. “The bathroom sounds like an even worse idea. You’ll slip, hit your head on something, blood will go everywhere, and we’ll lose the security deposit.”

“Or my plan will work, I’ll get laid this weekend, and you can stop complaining about how grumpy I’ve been lately,” you reasoned matter-of-factly. 

Jean’s hand came to rest on your shoulder as you attempted to push past him to leave the room, aforementioned dildo jiggling menacingly in your hand. “You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he said a little more softly, raising a brow as he cast another look at the offending object.

“I have lube!” you shot back defensively.

Jean glanced up at the ceiling, muttering something about regret under his breath before exhaling, “Let me help you.”

–

In all the years that you’ve known Jean, you’ve done an excellent job at keeping your little crush on him your best kept secret. A secret kept under the most formidable lock and key, buried deep in the depths of your psyche. Tucked away in the very back of a dusty, old cabinet like an expired can of corn. 

Objectively, you know Jean’s handsome. You’re well aware. 

With his intense, hazel eyes—ones that see everything. 

His tall, solid form. 

His sinfully curved, pink lips (and his habit of idly sliding his tongue along the bottom one). 

His long, dexterous fingers—a dangerous thought. 

That fucking mullet he let grow in, which shouldn’t be nearly as sexy as it is when he rolls right out of bed and leaves his room looking like a pillow-rumpled supermodel. 

He’s hot, okay?

And sure, you’ve drunkenly kissed at a few parties over the years. Jean’s seen your ass more times than you can count. Definitely your boobs that time he ran into the bathroom to puke while you were showering. Sometimes he has a habit of putting his head on your lap when you’re both on the couch, nudging you till you card your hands through his soft brown hair like a damn dog. 

But it’s always been platonic. 

Friendly. 

Two people who are just very, very comfortable with one another. Comfortable in knowing that neither intends to ruin their stable, solid friendship by carelessly sprinkling feelings into the mix. 

Comfortably going so far as to share the sordid details of your sex lives (or lack thereof, lately) while leaning against the kitchen counter eating take out food without batting an eye—though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t try to one up him sometimes when you feel that familiar, unwelcome twinge of jealousy yawning awake inside of you.

But this?

This is asking too much of your restraint to keep your heart walled off and your mouth clamped shut. In your defense, it was already left in pitiful tatters after grinning-and-bearing it throughout the seven-month-long nightmare that was Jean dating fucking Pieck. 

—

The next phase of your slew of terrible ideas today began with Jean sitting at the head of your bed, back against the wall, holding the dildo between his legs. Like your own personal fucking dildo holder. Grinning like this wasn’t the single most awkward thing the two of you have ever done (save for the time you both fell asleep with your head in his lap on the couch and woke up to his accidental boner poking you in the ear—neither of you ever mentioned that again). 

And it would have been totally fine if it worked out like you imagined in your head the moment he pitched it—you sinking down onto the silicone schlong a few times, stuffing in as much as you could while he held it still. Then letting him carry on with his day while you lay there in bed for a little while with it lodged inside of you, getting yourself used to the stretch. Totally fine. 

The reality of the situation was far different, entailing a sticky, slippery mess of lube coating of your hands and a dildo that bent and flopped in every direction as you tried to carefully impale yourself on it while maintaining some sense of dignity. 

You had given up fairly quickly, butting your head against Jean’s collarbone and sighing as you asked if he thought Eren would go slow. 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“…do you trust me?” Jean had asked carefully, like his next suggestion wasn’t going to send you spiraling.

Like “Just sit on my dick, as a friend!” wasn’t the most fucking confusing statement your heart, brain, and vagina had ever heard.

–

Which is how you find yourself in your current predicament, straddling Jean Kirstein’s lap with far more inches of him than you’d realized he’d been keeping tucked away buried to the hilt in the velvety heat between your thighs. Raw, skin-to-fucking-skin, because you’re both in a miserable dry spell with not a single condom to be found between the two of you. And somehow the combination of “known you for half of my life” and “just got tested” and “IUD” sounded better than one of you being tasked with trudging to the pharmacy.

Or, god fucking forbid, going down one floor to ask Conny for one.

Nope. 

You have three days to prepare yourself for whatever may come with Eren, so sitting on your best friend’s intimidatingly large dick sans condom the least of your worries. Even if it feels so incredible you’re literally silently choking on the moan threatening to spill past your lips. 

Even if you fucking swear you heard his breath hitch when the thick head of his cock began to slip past your entrance, stretching you open wide as he breached your damp channel. 

Even if he hardly had to touch himself to get hard for this. 

Even if his gaze darkened when you choked out, “Jean, your dick is huge.”

This was a terrible idea. 

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”

“Doing what?!” you ask, exasperated.

He rests his hands on your waist, “Doing this,” and squeezes firmly, “on my dick.”

“This isn’t even sex,” you tell him, ignoring the way the close proximity of his hazel eyes sets a flurry of emotion stuttering in your chest. “It’s like, cockwarming at best. You can’t come from cockwarming if you’re not even turned on.”

Jean raises an eyebrow. “Do you even know how tight you are?”

“That’s obviously why I was worried about Ere—”

“It’s like this,” he cuts you off, wrapping a hand around your throat. It’s a loose hold, only meant to prove a snarky point, but a spark of arousal seeps through your body anyway at the mere suggestion. His eyes widen a fraction at the traitorous way your walls clamp down on him even harder in response. “What, you into being choked?”

“I’m into a lot of things, Jeanie,” you tell him haughtily, trying to ignore the heat blistering beneath your skin.

“Like dumb idiots named Eren Jaeger?” he counters, making to grab for the tongue you’re currently sticking out at him. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think Jean sounds like he’s jealous. 

Which he definitely isn’t. 

But you poke the bear anyway. 

“What, are you jealous?”

He shifts slightly, and you bite your lip to stifle the moan as your cunt spasms around the pressure from his cock. 

If he notices, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, his brow furrows as the corners of his mouth tilt downward slightly. “I just think you deserve better.”

You tug on his earlobe, letting out a weak laugh in an attempt to dispel the sticky, messy feeling of hope trying desperately to cling to the arousal stirring in your gut. “Says the guy who’s currently fucking me.”

Jean scoffs and deadpans, “I thought this wasn’t sex.”

Who are you kidding? Certainly not the tension coiling ruthlessly in your abdomen. 

You move a little, trying and failing to relieve the sensation of hot wax dripping down your spine. Instead, you let out a tiny, strangled noise when your throbbing clit presses down against his pelvis, the resulting flood of pleasure setting every nerve ending in your body on fire.

The way he growls out your name through gritted teeth is a warning, but his low tone only serves to stoke the flames licking their way up between your thighs. 

You move again, inhaling sharply through your nose.

“Fuck,” he groans quietly, head hitting the wall behind him with a resounding thud. 

You’re not sure if he does it on purpose, but his hands find their way back to your hips, calloused fingertips pressing directly against your skin as he slides them up beneath your shirt. His shirt. 

The next time you rock against him, his grip on you tightens. And then, you feel it—he tugs you forward. 

You lean further into him, without really meaning to, forehead coming to rest against his. “What are we…”

“Just keep going,” he murmurs. 

He shifts again, sinking down lower so his back is pressed against the mattress, and you realize the angle gives you more purchase to grind down against him when he pulls at your waist, thumbs lazily skimming your hip bones. 

“Jean…” you whisper, not really sure what else you intend to say. 

“I want you to feel good,” he says softly, pushing his hips against you, even though he’s snugly bottomed out. 

It feels so fucking good—

—laying atop Jean while he stares back up at you, pupils clearly dilated in arousal—

—watching his eyes fall shut as you run a hand along the stubble on his jaw—

—knowing he’s well aware the slickness between your legs is no longer from the lube, your cunt gushing with arousal at the feeling of being stuffed deep with his thick cock. 

So you tell yourself you’ll figure the rest out later when you start to shamelessly grind down against him. 

“You don’t have to be quiet for me,” Jean teases when you cough to cover up a gasp.

Your answering moan is nearly a whimper, and Jean’s muscles tense beneath you as he continues to guide your hips. He doesn’t try to pull his cock out from where it’s lodged inside of you, doesn’t start thrusting and fucking up into you. He just lets you chase the clitoral stimulation you so desperately need while you’re cockwarming him, groaning along with you at each needy drag. 

“Good girl, that’s it.”

This is far more intimate than you bargained for, the gentle slide of his hands up your back scraping your heart out bit-by-bit. 

“Holy shit, you don’t know how close I am to coming right now,” he moans in a gravelly, unsteady tone. 

All you can do is whimper his name when the rubber band suddenly snaps in response, your body trembling as a wave of white-hot pleasure crashes over you. 

And then Jean’s hands are cupping your face, his lips crashing into yours. He kisses you fiercely as you whine and shudder through your orgasm, moaning into your mouth as you card your fingers through his hair. You can feel his cock throb inside of you, pulsing with need as your tight cunt spasms and contracts, relentlessly squeezing his shaft while you soak him with your release. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he’s groaning, both of you too drunk on pleasure to move when he suddenly climaxes, cock pumping thick, hot ropes of cum deep in your pussy. 

Chests heaving, Jean slowly sits up, forehead falling against your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist. 

After a few minutes of silence, he finally murmurs, “Don’t fuck Jaeger.”

You tilt his head upward, finger resting just below his chin, skimming the stubble that’s there. Too many emotions are swimming in his hazel eyes, more than you can identify—save for one that you recognize with a jolt of clarity. It’s the way you look at him, when he’s not paying attention.

Longing. 

Desire. 

Soft, gentle, unfiltered affection. 

This time, you’re the one to close the distance between your mouths, brushing your lips against his. 

“Who?” you ask, smiling into the kiss. 

Jean chuckles, the sound like warm honey, and he deepens the kiss, one hand sliding to the back of your head. Though you remain seated on his softening length, cum begins to seep from your slick heat, pooling on his balls and abdomen. 

He goes to move, but you don’t budge. “You wanna get cleaned up?”

You shake your head, the corner of your mouth tilting upward with a smirk. “I’m comfortable.”

Jean bites his lower lip, huffing, “My cum’s dripping all over, and I’m two seconds from getting hard again if you keep squeezing down on me like that.”

Feigning a look of innocence, you flex the muscles in your tight, soaked channel one more time for good measure. He chokes, and you grin. 

“Good.”

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

the best way a man knows how

a moment between two characters i hope to write much more of soon :)

cw: suggestive, implied cheating

“You know, I think you look best from this angle,” he says from his spot on the floor. She knows he says it because he looked at her like this when they first met, to make her wonder if he's been wanting this for that long. It can't be true, he's a gentleman, but a part of her hopes that he felt something similar to what she did when they first locked eyes—that he felt the threads of their fates tangle the moment her heel sank into the muddy green during a ball. She prayed that as he knelt to pull that heel out of the muck, he was filled with the same inexplicable desire to know this person in every capacity of the word. She’d snuck out for a moment of peace, to escape her husband, guests, and royal duties she never asked for, and suddenly he was there. Then, he was on his knees for her, and she knew he’d be trouble.

Again, he kneels before her as she tries to deny him the satisfaction he’s found by seizing control of her thoughts. Again, the glint in his eyes suggests he's found it anyway. She tries to keep her voice light, trying to pretend he doesn’t affect her the way he does. “Likewise.”

“I've wondered how this leg feels,” he says, and starts removing one shoe. “Is it soft, rough, bumpy, smooth? Muscular or plump?” He pulls one stocking down painstakingly slow and lifts up her dress. “Amore mio,” a kiss to her shin, “Cuore mio,” another to her knee, each one sending a jolt through her strong enough to know he could ruin her, but she remains where she is, caught in the expanse between wanting and refusing. But she's wanted this, him, for so long and it feels so good to have him. “Tesoro mio,” he stills on the last one, and presses his face against her. “You'll never know the lengths I’d go to keep you in bliss. Will you let me try, the best way a man knows how?”

[ a collage i made for them ]