It's Tumblr And Everyone Can Write Wtv They Want But I Get So Confused By The Jjk Fics Where Everyone

Almond Blossoms

— Vincent van Gogh, 1890

•The Famous Art Collection•

ok i have a plan (gets distracted) (gets distracted) (gets distracted) (gets distracted) (get distracted) (gets d

Story of my life

Jjk is so good i wish it was good

did mint even write it if there isn't at least one heart wrenching line

Inevitable Things : chapter thirteen

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks, fingering

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The sheer force he kisses you with aches. Shouta's lips are slick with your cum and his tongue tastes like you, musked and slightly salty in the way that almost makes you search for it, but you don't care. No, you revel in it. In the dark, you both grope and grind, his clothed knee sliding between your legs. You wonder if he can feel how wet you are through the fabric, but then you remember he already knows. It’s all his fault.

Your hands slide under his shirt. His body is soft in ways you like, in ways you don't recognize. Touya’s body was thin to the point of almost frailty, while Aizawa's feels perfect for grasping, for pulling towards you, perfect for pressing against. Sex is fun, you decide. Despite all the awkwardness and tension and overstimulating, sex is good. You get Nemuri's obsession with it, you understand why people crave it. It's so basic, so primitive; it tickles the back of your brainstem, a fundamental part of you that needed it most of all.

And yet. 

And yet you need more.

You can feel how used your body is, how puffy and fried your clit is from the attention, but it's barely done anything to quell the want that's been building inside you. How, after all of that, can you still feel so unsatisfied? So insatiable? What the fuck has this man done to you? What door has he unlocked inside your mind?

Together, you peel his shirt from his body. Skin to skin contact, your breasts against his chest: it all feels right. The animal part of your brain sparks up once again. It’s so basic of a need that it eats at you like hunger. Lust drives you, pushes you. You never feel old, but suddenly you feel young and excited. 

When your hands wander south, Shouta breaks away. 

“What do you think you're doing?”  You swear he's glowering at you through the dark; you can feel his breath huff, but it doesn't stop your fingers from slipping open the button of his pants. He smells like aftershave, but there’s still a patch of scruff on his jawline, presumably missed in the rush to see you. Blindly, you try to kiss at it.

“Touching you.” Why are you so giggly? So sweet?

Your fingers brush against the trail of hair between his stomach and the edge of his briefs. It's short, cropping as if he used to shave, but hasn't in a time. His body shudders at the touch, his hands pulsing tighter, tighter around your tits. Oh, that makes something burn hotter inside you, knowing how you have an equally big effect on him as he had on you.

 “Careful.”

“Or what?” Your voice is still quivering from cumming so hard, but you're gaining confidence.  “You afraid I'm going to make you cum?”

You force the fly open and work his pants down. He doesn't help you, his hands frozen in place as you wiggle. The effort steals a laugh from you, then he joins in, softly. It’s a surprisingly tender moment, but it doesn’t rob you of the tension. The want is building in your throat, threatening to choke you.

“I just don't think-” he whispers. Your thumbs are tucking under his waistband. His skin is warm and soft; you want to touch more of it.

“-I'll behave-”

With a press, you can feel his briefs inch down and the weight of his cock shift. It strikes you that you haven't touched it yet. No, you've only seen it in that picture, only felt it through cloth. Something inside you flutters at the thought of how thick he looked. Could you even take all of it? Truthfully, you doubt it; you’re not a virgin, but you aren’t exactly experienced either. Is it possible to be bad at sex? 

Just as you start to spiral, Aizawa catches you by the elbow. It’s almost impossible to worry with him and the way he touches, the focus he gives you. Even the way he grips your arm feel scandalous, charged with want and desire, like he's going to hold you like this forever, like he's going to live up to his promise and use you however he wants.

“-if you pull my cock out while I'm between your legs.” Aizawa swallows deep. “So, really think about-”

Clumsily, you crane up and catch him in a kiss, your lips blindly smooshing into his cheek.  It’s just enough to catch him off guard, to steal an extra moment before you reach down the front of his pants and wrap your hands around his member. God, it's thick. Almost grossly so. Can your body even take all of that?

“I thought you were gonna do whatever you wanted with me,” you mumble into his scruff. His cock is hot and slick with his own precum. When you run your fingers down the underside, Shouta practically chokes on his spit. That’s right; you’ve cum three times today, but he’s been practically untouched. He must be aching for it. 

With a shaky hand, you drag his cock down, through the wet of your pussy. The sensation sends a shock through both of you; at the same time, you both gasp and hiss, keening deeper against each other. Earlier, everything felt hot, soft and dripping like your core was nothing but melted metal, but now it’s purely electric. Every touch of skin trills through you like a shock, lights up your brain like sparks. Fuck-- this is fun. You’re having fun. 

“You said you wanted to go slow.” Aizawa’s voice is almost a plea-- a final warning. 

You slide your legs wider and Aizawa’s body shifts down, lining up against yours. You can feel him, pressed just hard enough against your cunt to nestle between your lips, barely an inch away from where you want him. The promise of stretch nearly takes your breath away. No-- he isn't where you want him: he's where you need him.

You swallow down your last bit of worry and let your head fall back on to the pillow. 

“Then fuck me slow.” 

It’s not unusual for Aizawa to curse, but the string of swears that escape his mouth sends a chill down your spine. It’s blurted, rushed, slurred; He’s never a chatty man, but now he rambles, mouth never stopping as his hips press forward.

“Needy thing, pretty thing, sweet thing.” The tip of his cock pops inside you without much resistance. You're too soaked for friction, almost too wet. The taste of him makes your toes curl, pussy clench- it's not enough, not enough, not enough-

Your partner hunches over, forehead clunking against yours with a pained groan. 

“How are you that fucking tight?” he gripes. “How are you so fucking perfect ?” 

“Shou-” you wiggle your hips and he groans again, deep and wild. “Fuck me, fuck me.”

“I will, I am--”

“Please!”

“I'm trying not to--”  He takes a shaky breath. His hands are clenched in the sheets, so hard you can feel his bicep flex against your side.  “Embarrass myself.”

A thrill runs down your spine. Your body suits him so well that he's already on the brink, already ready to cum. It makes your ego flare. He wants you. he wants you so badly. After making you cum so many times, the only thing you should want is petty revenge, but now, in this moment, you want him to feel good with you.

“I don't care,” you urge. Your hand sneaks down between your legs, working tiny circles around your abused clit. The sensation is electric, so much so that you swear you can see lightning behind your eyes. An orgasm might not even be possible at this point, but you can't help but try. “Just fuck me.”

Finally- thankfully, beautifully, finally- Aizawa sinks his whole cock into you. It's been a while since someone's been inside you, so the pressure feels good, but strange and unfamiliar. A sound must escape you: Aizawa suddenly stops, pulling back ever so slightly. 

"Are you okay-?"

“Keep going-” You urge as you wrap your legs around his waist. “Keep going.” 

Ever so obedient, Aizawa rolls his hips, harder this time. Your body makes lewd sounds with every stroke, the wet smack of your folds being spread audible over the sound of your heavy breathing. Your muscles give to his thickness and you can feel every stroke deepen until his hips are finally pressed against yours. The button of his pants digs into your ass, but the discomfort is almost pleasurable.

“Needed this, didn’t you?” he whispers. “Needed to be taken care of?”

Your voice is staccato with his thrusts. He’s not being rough, but you’re so sensitive that it feels like he is manhandling you, abusing your overly loved body- “Y-yeah.”

“Your boyfriend didn’t take care of you?”

If he had said that at any other time, you may have gotten upset, but you feel so open, so bare-

“No…” You flop back onto the mattress. You hadn’t realized how curled you had been against him, how hard your fingers had been digging into his skin. The relaxation changes to pleasure; it’s a sweet, liquid heat, rolling through you like melted molasses. “No, he never-- he couldn’t--”

“Poor thing-”  His teeth nip at the stop under your earlobe, catching skin with his canines. “So neglected-”

Oh, that cocktail of hormones in your brain has you stupid and emotional.  “Yeah.”

“I’ll take care of you,” he bites again and you know there’s going to be another bruise to explain away tomorrow. “I’ll spoil you.”

Aizawa hooks an arm under your leg and lifts it. The angle changes and his cock hits a previously untouched spot; your body kicks and twitches. It feels impossible, but you’re going to cum again, you’re going to cum before he does, and you’re going to revel in it.

“Touch-” Your voice is high with want. “Touch my tits?”

It’s barely a question, almost a demand, and Aizawa is more than eager to obey. His free hand finds the pebbled curve or your nipple and flicks his thumb over it, searching for a positive reaction. When he doesn’t get it, he changes his touch, waiting to your approval.

“Like that-” you finally confirm. His rutting gets harder, but not faster; it's slow grinds, taking advantage of every inch and then some. The coarse of his pubic hair is delightful friction against your clit; it nearly hurts with how good it feels.  “Just like that-”

“Good// girl, yes.” His tone is so desperate. “Tell me what you need.” 

Oh, you wish you could, but your voice is failing you right now. It's like every brain cell in your head is dedicated to lighting up with ecstasy, downing in him, him, him, him--

“I'll give it to you, give you everything you ever want-” Shouta whispers into the shell of your ear. He's being so steady, so patient; it's nothing like the other times you had sex. There's no rush, no urgency.  “I want you spoiled. I want you greedy. I want to ruin you for anyone else.” 

You can't cum again. Your body is too spent, too used, too-- too-- too--

Everything inside you goes rigid and you come undone once again. It's embarrassing and loud: both your mouth and your cunt. You're saying something, but you don't know what, if it's even words at all. The heat of pleasure is boiling your mind, your senses. 

You’re not a virgin. You haven't been for years, but suddenly you feel inexperienced, naive. Sex could feel like that? It could make you feel like this?

Shouta's hips press against yours and he groans, deep and unabashed. Warm fills you, accompanied by the twitch of his cock, and you realize he's cumming too, melting into you--

At the last moment, he catches you in an open mouthed kiss. It's messy, mostly tongue and spit, the kind you can't breathe through, but you find yourself pressing back, licking and sucking and nipping and drowning in it all, giving yourself to the moment--

“That was-”

You clumsily slap a hand upwards, tapping the side of his face. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark, but you still can’t fully make out his silhouette. 

“Don't talk,” you mumble.  “I-- haa.” 

The roll of your hips just won't stop. The last flickers of your orgasm are still burning and you can't help but stroke them on. You swear there's literally sparks behind your eyes and no bones left in your body; you don't know how you're even moving. Against your will, your cunt twitches, pulling a pained groan from Shouta.

“Can I speak now?” he mumbles through your fingers. Your hand falls back to the bed. “You're going to have to give me a couple minutes before another round.”

The hard of his cock is already softening inside you.  God, the cloud of post-coitus bliss has you so soft you feel sappy; you never want him to pull out, never want to lose his body heat. If you could lift your arms again, you'd wrap them around him.

“My heart might stop if we go again,” you whine. That was the first bare cock you've ever taken. 

He chuckles and it hits you in the chest like a fucking bullet. Oh, this is bad. Pathetic. Lovely. You might cry or laugh or pass out.

 “Is that good?” he asks, tone evident that he knows it's very, very good.

“I think I came so hard I had a stroke.” That has to be the only reason you’re feeling so wobbly.

“The only stroke is you stroking my ego.” A pitiful noise escapes you as he rolls away, groaning as he gets to his feet. He sucks in air through his teeth, then releases it carefully.The room is suddenly unbearably cold; you shake and shiver, silently wishing he’d come back.  “Let's get you cleaned up. Light’s coming on.” 

 The sound of his hands fumbling on the side table is followed by the click of the lamp turning on. Warm light floods the room and you finally get a glimpse of him. His already loose curls are mussed, fallen in front of his flushed cheeks. His chest has a sprinkling of hair - trimmed, it seems - and a trail down from his belly button. He's already tucked his cock away into his briefs, but his pants are unzipped. His underwear is a light green; it makes you laugh a bit. At least both of you are fucked. 

Shouta takes his turn to observe you. You must look even worse: naked, hair a mess, legs spread and cum dripping down the track of your ass. 

“Shit-” Sleep nearly sideswipes you immediately, so hard you’re struggling to even care. “We made a mess.”

Aizawa regards you again, brow raised. “Mostly you.” 

Oh, you beg to differ. The mess he made inside you feels sloppy and slippery, leaking from much too deep inside you. It's the first bare cock you've ever taken, you realize. It felt dangerously good, with none of the friction or stink of the condom. Even the tickle of warmth inside you is surprisingly pleasant.

That's dangerous knowledge, especially with the consequences.

“You shouldn't have…”  you try to sit up a bit to be serious. “Inside me.”

Realization catches Aizawa's face. 

“I should have asked,” he says.   “I was… caught up.”

“It’s okay.” Especially because you liked it. You flop back down with a sigh. “I’ll get a Plan B in the morning.”

Aizawa  shifts his weight and hisses at the pressure. Before you can say anything he turns, headed towards the bathroom.

“I… I can’t get you pregnant.”  The faucet runs while he speaks. “I can buy it for you anyway, if you want to be extra safe.” 

“Oh,” you say, shifting uncomfortably. You believe him, of course; he's not a liar. Maybe about silly things, but not about this. “I didn’t know that.”

He turns the sink off and returns, washcloth in hand. 

“Of course you didn't.” Aizawa gestures for you to spread your legs. You hesitate, then remember exactly what you've been doing these past two days. He's eaten your cunt; you guess he can see it again. Resting against the edge of the bed, he runs the cloth against the mess inside of your thighs. It's hot, but not uncomfortably so. “Sterility doesn’t come up in conversation very often.”   

He runs the cloth into the crook between your leg and pussy. You would have thought the act demeaning, but it’s sweet.

“Vasectomy?” you ask. 

“Nature. Maybe the accident. Either way.” 

He shrugs it away, but there's an edge of something deeper in his voice. He tries to hide it, eyes focused down as he folds the towel over itself and then gingerly touches it to your outer lips.

“I shouldn’t have pried,” you mumble. 

“It’s not prying,” he says.  “I’d argue it’s very much your business right now.” 

The washcloth gets tossed into a corner. The thought of it mildewing there makes your stomach turn, but you're entirely too tired to consider picking it up yourself. Your partner knots his hair into a low hanging bun, just something to get the hair off of his nape. He hesitates at the edge of the bed, not entirely on or off, just hovering in the periphery. 

“Did you want kids?”  

Aizawa glances up, brows knotted together. This time, you really think you may have overstepped. 

“I didn’t mean with me!” you try to recover. Just… in general.”

You're ready for him to step away, but instead he sinks a bit closer to you in the bed, head lounged, lips pursed. 

“No, I don’t.” He heaves it like a confession.   “Considered it for a moment. But, I decided I’m not the paternal type.”

Shouta huffs so hard that his body puffs and deflates.

“Can barely handle those fucking interns.”

The laugh sneaks out of you. Aizawa watches you from his perch, eyes narrowed with amusement. The cool air starts biting at your skin; you scuttle under the covers, then pat the space beside you.

“You scare the shit out of them,” you say. 

“Good.” 

“You could be nicer.”

You pat the empty space again. This time, Shouta obliges. He settles under the covers, a healthy distance from you.  

“It's my job to be mean. We're making items that directly affect people's lives.” He shares your pillow, the special one you brought from home, the silk one that gives just right. “Have you ever been in a hospital bed?”

“No.”

“It's miserable. You don't get a lot of rest. Nurses come in every couple of hours to check on you-- nurses working twelve hour shifts with too many patients to handle.” His eyes are distant, even as he looks your way.  He's thinking about the accident. You want to ask questions about it, but instead you listen. “If we can design something to make that experience better, something to help patients and nurses, we should be serious about it. They should care.”

A moment passes. You try to imagine him younger, sadder. You try to imagine him in those beds-- then try to imagine him before. The silvered scar on his cheek: what would his face look without it?

“I know on the surface it sounds silly,” he continues, a bit more grave. “It's a bed. But if we can make monitoring tools for nurses easier, feed reports directly into the system. Heart rate, breaths per minute, blood pressure-- it takes a load off of their plates and lets them focus on patients who need it.”

His head rolls towards you and your noses are only inches from each other. It feels like you’ve been momentarily allowed into an inner sanctum, opened a door to a part of him you shouldn't be allowed to see. The long nights at the office make more sense now; you had always thought he was just a workaholic. 

“And these beds might be the last place someone lives before they die.”  Aizawa says. “They deserve comfort. Dignity.”

He tilts his head down to regard you, then starts a bit, bewildered. 

“Why are you giving me that look?” 

You bite down your own smile. 

“Just…” Your hand finds his chest. “Didn't realize you cared so much.”

Aizawa rolls his eyes as he places his own hand over yours. 

“Don't tell the interns,” he grumbles. “Don't want them to think I'm soft.”

The sleep that nips are your cerebellum is the cozy kind, the kind that eeks your eyes closed bit by bit. Aizawa places the towel on the ground and you watch him. His features are the same as they always are, but your brain has recontextualized it all; the silvered scar on his cheek, the flat of his nose… you smile.

“Do you have pictures?” you mumble. 

“Hm?”

“Of your cats.”

Aizawa looks back at you, surprised. Then, he melts a bit, pulling his phone from his pocket. He joins you back on the bed, over the covers, arm scooping behind your head almost protectively. The position is intimate; you make it more so by resting your head on his shoulder. It only takes a moment for him to pull up a photo of two cats, both lounging in a strand of sunshine, both tummy up and dead asleep.

“Sesame.” He points to the black cat in the picture, then the fluffy white and orange one. “Sushi.”

“They're cute.”

“They're good cats.” His voice rumbles in his chest, undertones you've never heard before. You cuddle in closer to listen better, close your eyes to really focus. “Sushi is older now, so she mostly sleeps. Sesame is two-- three, actually.”

You hum in acknowledgement. The thrum of his heart is slow and strong. 

“Been considering getting another. For when Sushi dies.” he tilts his head in thought. “I'm not ready to be a forty year old man with three cats.” 

You try to give him that look again, but your eyes just won't open. “And you said you aren’t paternal.”

There's a long stretch of quiet behind that. 

“Do you have pets?” His voice takes you out of your sleep, but not enough for you to fully rouse. 

“Are you falling asleep?” 

Again, there’s a long stretch of silence, only the rise and fall of your breaths and the hum of the air conditioner to fill the room. Right as you start to lose grip on the waking world, Shouta moves, pressing his lips right into the center of your forehead. 

 “Do you want children?” he asks into your skin, voice frailer than you ever thought possible.

The only thing scary about Halloween this year are these temperatures! Ha ha ha! *pulls the mic close* I'm going to start killing oil executives

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.

Black girls are human. (insp.)

I like these guys

wanted to post some inspo for an idea i have that i rly just need to sit my ass down and write