#he's having a good time. just being a brat as usual | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seancekitsch · 2 days

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Can we have more Vox and Assistant! Reader? Maybe based on the headcanon you had involving Val?

i think im gonna make this a little series hehehe

warnings: rough smut, dom vox, aphrodisiacs, val getting cucked, sort of unethical power dynamics, bondage, etc

“More toys for us, Big Vee?” you ask, scooting further back from the edge of Vox’s bed as you make room for the box Val sets down, tucking your legs under you as you do.

Vox scowls in your direction as he slides his suspenders down his shoulders.

“Don’t call him that,” he tells you, only to be met by your smirk. Despite his clear annoyance, Vox still takes the time to scan his eyes up and down your body, already delightfully wrapped in blue and red lingerie he had Velvette design just for you. You meet his gaze in a challenge.

“Why not? He’s taller than you. Big Vee.”

You know you’re playing with fire here, between your teasing and the absolutely shit eating grin you can see on Valentino’s face from the corner of your vision. Valentino laughs as Vox’s screen twitches in anger. This is all part of your game, though. Push Vox too hard and… well, he’s gonna go ballistic on you. Your grin only grows as your boss seethes next to the box and his business partner.

“Careful, Princesa,” the taller Vee warns, picking through the box before he pulls out a set of what look like handcuffs on a leash and a bottle with no label, “Daddy doesn’t like brats.”

Vox snatches the handcuffs from Valentino, his free hand held out and waiting. Without protest, you offer both of your wrists to him while you smile up at him sweetly. He’s right, Vox doesn’t like brats; which is why you’re usually not this bold, but Vox worked you hard today and you like to play with him.

Vox works diligently in fastening the restraints around your wrists, careful not to have them too tight around you. He’s learned the hard way, with one of your first trysts ending with him rubbing cream into your torn up wrists in the bathroom through begging apologies. Vox likes his toys, Vox keeps extremely good care of them. H gives a testing tug, his eyes flickering to you for confirmation. It’s moments like this where you see a glimmer of hope in Vox, like maybe he has a heart, maybe he’s a good man. You let out a breathy laugh as you nod your confirmation to him. They’re just right, and you remind yourself that both you and he are in Hell for very serious reasons. You don’t get where you are currently without a reason.

“Okay, baby?” he whispers, too sweetly. Your smile widens, knowing that this is a ruse. He’s going to fucking wreck you, you just need to let him pretend he isn’t.

Roughly, Vox pushes you over by the shoulder, forcing you onto your hands and knees on the duvet. He throws the other end of the restraints at Valentino, now sat in the chair pulled up to the end of the bed.

“Yank on it if it looks like she’s having too much fun, yeah?” Vox instructs, a cool professional tone crackling in the static of his voice. Now that the restraint is more taut, it resembles a Y-shape, with one set of Val’s hands curling around the far loop. It would work well for being hung from the ceiling, or wrapped up around the bedpost. Vox could have you pinned to the wall in his office with this, bound and waiting for him, ready to be used and -

You’re literally pulled out of your thoughts by Val testing the waters, not enough to knock you off of your hands, but enough to make you wobble. Val’s grin turns hungry, vicious even.

You turn your head quickly from Val’s gaze, something clinical and nerve wracking under it. You’re testing product for him, but somehow any physical reaction of feedback feels embarrassing. Vox has settled behind you, his clothes shed and an unlabeled bottle in his hand.

“Whatcha got there, Sir?” you ask, even though you can guess.

“Topical version of Val’s little love potion,” he focuses on his hands, not meeting your gaze, “just apply where you want sensations to increase.”

He continues looking down as he tosses the bottle on his nightstand and rubs the lube between his fingers, mechanical movements as he then takes a claw to the gusset of your lingerie, ripping it away easily before rubbing it in against your sex. His fingers move between your folds, warm liquid mixing with your own wetness. He speeds up his movements, fingers sliding faster against you as your wetness builds, every once in a while his fingers graze your clit to make you twitch.

As Vox’s fingers move, you’re met with a rising feeling of heat, heat everywhere, and every spot he hits, every graze of his claws sends electric shocks through your veins. Exactly like when Vox shocks you, but without him having to actually do it.

Vox has barely done anything, and yet you’re already a gasping mess in front of him.

Finally he meets your gaze, a smug smirk across his screen as his free hand starts to work the lube onto his cock, the edges of his screen twitching and emitting static as he works himself. You can feel how ready you are for him, practically dripping already. You bet he’ll slide right into you, and tell you what a good slut you are for him.

You throw your head back, ready for him; to fuck you, to grab at you, to manhandle you like the prized possession you are.

Except the familiar stretch of his cock never comes. You shiver with anticipation, body clenching around nothing, wetness growing cold in the space between your bodies.

“Do you think you deserve his cock?” Valentino asks, teasing you again with that smile. Valentino has unlaced his shorts, palming his member through the loosened leather with one of the hands not holding your restraint. Of course, he’s going to get something out of this too.

“Uh huh,” you respond with a dazed nod, mind already hazy and chasing a high.

“Look at her, the brat’s already fucked stupid and she hasn’t even been fucked,” Vox teases, but his voice sounds strained as well. He’s one to talk, you think.

His hands return to you, this time to spread your ass cheeks, baring you to him fully. You’re sure he can see how pathetic you probably look, wet and clenching for him and fully on display.

And then your arms buckle, threatening to collapse you, as the heightened but familiar feeling of that long tongue of his makes contact with your clit. Vox shoves his entire screen against you, tongue teasing and weakening you.

“You don’t deserve my cock until you can prove you’re my good little assistant, until you’re obeying me,” Vox growls between hungry licks to your folds.

“You’re gonna come on what he gives you,” Val taunts, and you really wish you could fuck up his last good antenna. It’s not that you hate your boss’ business partner, but he’s being a real dickhead right now.

Vox’s tongue assaults your cunt, sliding across your folds, right along the edges, prodding against your clit, but never plunging within you. Its torture. Each time the tip of his tongue makes contact with your clit is like a live wire, jolting you and pulling loud whining gasps from your lips. Vox moans against your cunt, openmouthed and unashamed.

His tongue oscillates, moving from side to side over the bundle of nerves without letting up, without mercy. He switches from left to right to up to down, every time you think you’re getting used to it, or hitting a rhythm, he changes it. It’s almost edging, the way Vox is keeping you teetering along the edge, keeping you right on the finish line without crossing it. Vox’s claws dig into your thigh, another loud moan fanning out against you.

And then suddenly the sam breaks, and a high pitched whine tears from your throat, and Vox pulls away to admire his handiwork. You’re sure you can picture his face, you think between shuddering moans, all smug and confident. Vox at his hottest. Shakes rock your frame, as if Vox had actually electrocuted you.

But instead of the soothing motions of his palms along your back, none of that comfort comes.

Pain radiates through your ass, a harsh spank to it rocking you out of your orgasm stupor.

Another spank follows it.

And another.

Another.

You’re sure it’s going to bruise, though you don’t care. Soon, it’ll be just another mark Vox has left on you.

So you close your eyes and take it.

Five.

Six.

Switch ass cheeks.

Seven.

Your eyes are drawn open from the onslaught of the spanks by a weaker slap against your cheek. Opening your eyes you see Val, one hand on your restraint, one hand reached out to slap you again, and a third on his cock, now out and fully hard.

Vox stops.

“Hey,” he snaps at Valentino, “Don’t touch what’s mine.”

Valentino scoffs, and rolls his eyes. Vox presses his palms against the spots where he’s spanked you.

“Well can she at least help me out?” he asks, clearly annoyed.

“If she wants to,” Vox’s voice is cool and collected, rare for Vox’s usual temper.

Valentino holds out his gloved hand, and you graciously spit into it, before watching him wrap that hand around his cock and begin to stroke it slow and lazy.

You turn to look behind you again, Vox’s screen aglow with your wetness glistening across it, his own spit trailing from the corner of his mouth. He looks as fucked up as you’re certain you do, needy and wild.

“Ready, Doll?” Vox asks, as sweet as he could possibly be. Any pretense about your brattiness forgotten, any game you were playing dropped.

You wiggle your ass at him, and he chuckles, soft.

“I cannot wait to be fucking buried in you,” he thrusts against you, tip bumping you and making your composure falter.

“Then fuck me,” you bit back, winking at him.

“Careful what you wish for,” he warns, and pushes himself in until his hips connect with your ass. He relaxes there for a moment, giving you a second to adjust before pulling almost entirely out, his tip catching on your folds.

He slams back in, no mercy for your well spanked ass cheeks, his hips rutting into them recklessly. Your fingers dig into the duvet, struggling to ground yourself. That electrocuted feeling is back, rising embarrassingly quick. Each time hips meet ass a squeak of a moan escapes your lips. Any fight you had in yourself is gone, as long as this feeling between you and Vox stays. You arch your back further into him, contorting yourself for pleasure and chasing your own desire.

But then the feeling of the lush duvet meets your face, and disoriented, you lose your high momentarily. Vox however, groans, loving every second of this. You look up, one set of Valentino’s hands pulling the restraint taut, the other vigorously working his shaft and balls. There’s a sinister grin on his face, obviously getting pleasure in your disorientation. Your hands stretch out in front of you, balling up more of the covers, a better grip than before.

“Fuck you feel amazing,” Vox sighs, “I’m gonna fuckin fill you up, Doll.”

Vox moves faster, starts babbling. You can’t even imagine how this feels for him, if it feels so euphoric for you. The new angle pushes you further, if that was even possible, moaning wantonly into the duvet as you clench around him, gripping at sanity.

“Gonna give you everything,gonna fuckin give you it all,” he rambles, speeding up his thrusting.

Each thrust pushes you up and up and up, the precipice of your high coming closer.

Vox sinks his claws into the top of your ass, anchoring you into place for him as he pistons in and out of you.

The shocking feeling grows more frequent, each time he bottoms out is a total reset of your system.

You come without warning, a harsh whine of a moan and your entire body clamps down on him, harsh and sudden.

You shake in the patterns of an earthquake,one after another after another. Vox holds you through it all, his thrusts slowing as your cunt becomes a vice grip on his cock, coming himself with a shuddering moan, collapsing upon you and savoring the feeling your bodies and fluids connected.

He keeps thrusting, working you both through the high and the comedown with ease, his hips snapping in time and spending all of his energy within you.

Vox only slows when your shaking stops, when your moans stutter out, when you go limp. He holds himself there in you, savoring the moment and the feeling. Euphoric warmth floods you, endorphins rushing below the skin. His hands run up and down your back, hot flat palms to soothe any aftershocks in your muscles.

Vox pulls out slowly, gentle and careful. You can already feel it, mixed spend spilling from you in his absence. He’s made a mess of you, and more than usual. You miss the warmth his body brings, the cool air of the room discomforting.

“Val you gotta look at this,” Vox’s voice is dripping with enthusiasm behind you despite the fact you know he’s as exhausted as you are. He runs the backs of his claws from your ass to your thigh, not a reassuring caress of aftercare, but the way one would admire a trophy. And in your case, a sweaty, messy, bound trophy. You meet eyes with Val, who tucks his now softening member back into his pants, and rises from his chair. The moth demon rounds the corner of the bed, and you can hear the dull thud of his leather glove against Vox’s bare shoulder.

“Oh, espléndida,” Valentino coos, the same tired lustful tone in his voice as Vox carries. Leather of Val’s glove makes contact with the small of your back, and your arch into his touch, but he moves no further. How is it that you still react to this kind of touch even after all of your body feels boneless and not your own?

“I know,” Vox practically moans, and you feel yourself once again constricting, this time around nothing. Fuck, the effect this man has on you. Vox indulges where Val doesn’t, his hand leaving your thigh to cup you between them. You moan, burying your face into the duvet below you as he runs the tip of his clawed finger between your oversensitive folds.

“Definitely good for business, right?” he asks, and you can feel the mixed spend of your releases dripping out of you, “Fuck, baby, you’re something else.”

He says that last part like Valentino isn’t here, like it’s the two of you, special and private. He smears it up between your ass cheeks, before removing his hand from you all together. You try to bury yourself into the blanket even further when you hear the sound of him sucking his own fingers clean. Normally you’d be opening your mouth for a greedy taste yourself, but something about Valentino being here keeps you meek.

“Can we keep this?” he asks his business partner, turning his attention away from you now.

“Of course!” Val booms excitedly, “And I can go ahead on production now that this trial has been a success!”

You slide down, your knees untucking from under you as you nestle further into the warmth of Vox’s navy blue duvet. It’s soft and doused in the same cologne he uses and oh so comforting. Conversation between the two men turns to Val’s business, nothing you actually have to pay attention to as it doesn’t apply to Vox’s schedule.

And then soon enough you feel Vox climb off the bed, hear the closing of a door, the click of a lock, and Vox’s hands return to your back, this time massaging and gentle.

He climbs back onto the bed, his body covering yours as he undoes the clasps of the restraints, pressing his chest against your back. He bends your arms at the elbow, bringing each wrist up against his screen to kiss them, his thumb massaging circles into them. His hands move back up your arms, over your shoulders, and down your back. Vox pushes you over, onto your side to lay on the bed, before laying down himself. You reach out for him in the dimly lit room, running your fingers along the bottom edge of his screen. He glows brighter, his little way of letting you know you have his attention even when he cannot turn to look at you.

“I’m messy,” you whine, but make no move to get up. You’re so spent your limbs feel like they’re made of stone.

“You want me to run a bath?” he asks, already getting up from his spot. He’s still naked, still your vulnerable Vox, something more than your boss.

You nod, jutting out your bottom lip at him. He chuckles as he gathers you up easily in his arms, making a beeline for his bathroom.

“Jacuzzi jets,” you tell him, and he nods vigorously. Of course, he was always going to turn on the jacuzzi jets; They’re your favorite.

Vox crosses the room easily as you wrap your arms around his neck, snuggling into him. He kicks the door to the bathroom open and sets you down on the cool tile of the counter. It soothes your ass, calms the handprint shaped bruises.

“Can I convince you to sleep over tonight, Doll?”

“No need,” you shake your head, a playful smile as he starts the bath, “I doubt I can fuckin’ walk after the number you did on me.”

Vox’s screen flashes, his smile huge.

#vox x reader #vox x reader x val #hazbin vox x reader

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igbylicious · 2 days

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so um. @wooyoungisbaby Isak made inquiries abt whichever way Woosan & orgasm denial, how often it happens, whether Wooyoung ever gets to deny San, and oh boy my brain started buzzing lol! it was too long to answer in the replies, so this is ummm, technically a hard thoughts post i guess? very self-indulgent, very stream-of-consciousness

sex-related Woosan musings ahead, with an obvious warning for orgasm denial, but also mentions of dacryphilia & overstim (and somehow it’s abt 700~ words?! brain why?!?!?)

so yes, in pt1 Wooyoung was on a sex ban and didn’t get to cum until he and San were back from their trip lol.

in my head, San does this kind of thing on occasion, but not too often; he doesn’t overdo it bc that will genuinely upset Woo at some point lol. (also bc it means San doesn’t get to fuck Wooyoung either, and San doesn’t want to go too long without fucking Woo :C in like, a sickeningly tender way :C that man yearns for it :C )

also a ban for an entire week like in pt1 is very rare! the opportunity just presented itself bc they’d be with San’s family for the first few days; San had mixed feelings abt getting it on at his parents house, and Wooyoung got snarky abt it so San was like ‘ok i guess you are getting NOTHING for this WHOLE trip then ¯\_(ツ)_/¯’

(ps: now that reader is also in the mix, there are some fun new levels of potential torture to the concept of putting Woo on a sex ban ✪ ω ✪ )

for edging / denying Woo during actual sex; yeah that happens a lot lol — but multiple orgasm overstim is almost just as likely! San loves to change it up; but any given time they have sex, there’s decent odds that either one or the other will happen to Wooyoung… or both if he has the energy >:3

either way, both are real solid methods for San to almost guaranty he’ll have Woo crying before it’s over and what can i say? that man likes his Wooyoung a ruined, teary mess lol

as for whether Woo denies San…

well. in pt6 Wooyoung did know that San would let himself get edged all day long ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

for this version of Woosan, that’s actually a rare kink with which they might fully flip the script and have Wooyoung domming San. (they do have sex without rigid d/s roles, but it’s rare for this San to get deeply subby. tragically ( ╥ω╥ ) it will kinda sorta happen in the fic one more time tho uwu)

and usually it happens when San is real stressed or overworked or otherwise having a Bad Time™

(or if Woo is really really really in the mood for it, but in that case he will have to be on his best behaviour first lol)

they’ll really take their time for it and turn it into a ﾟ☆*Moment*☆ﾟ and it’s lowkey kinda soft; Woo will tease San plenty, obv! Woo likes his San just as teary and whiny as San likes his Wooyoung lol

but Woo is also acutely aware that he is in the caretaker role for once, and that the goal is for San to feel good and relaxed afterwards ♡ so much bodyworship, soooooooo much praise and cuddling in the aftercare <- and the praise goes both ways, bc San is so proud and grateful to Woo for taking care of him like that ;;

(and ofc when Woo’s subbing, he will ABSOLUTELY pull an edge on San if he can; just to multitask at being a menace AND give his boyfriend a lil treat hehe)

…but to come full circle, i’m not convinced that an attempt to put a sex ban on San would work out so great for Wooyoung asdkjadsjk

honestly i’m on the fence whether San’d immediately shut it down bc being the target of punishment is not his thing — but i could see Woo trying it just to be a brat, OR Woo pulls a stunt like ‘you sex ban me? good luck i sex ban you right back’ lol

which derails into an outright battle of endurance bc these two guys are not just incredibly horny but also stubborn asdkjasdjk. honestly they can’t even hold out for that long bc of aforementioned horny-ness and bc they are whipped for each other, but dear god both of them are so fucking stupidly desperate by the time they cave in and shamelessly hump each other again lol oop — and it does cumulate into a round of the shortest but also the MOST high-strung sex they’ve ever had ✪ ω ✪

(bless you Isak for being an enabler, i hope you got smth out of this ♡)

#whichever way #igby’s writing

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moroneur · 2 days

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okok, hear me out on this rottmnt leo x reader au idea guys i swear:

Rottmnt separated au where Leo (named Kappa) was raised as the next battle nexus champion n owner (in case anything happens to big mama) by big mama and he had to fight (literally and figuratively) for familial affection and peace his whole life. Then theres Reader who was abandoned by her parents the moment they found out about her ability to see into the future via dreams (which isnt as straightforward as it sounds- her visions span across multiple alternate timelines and they vary in time making it hard to understand and navigate), so they gave their small child to big mama (human version) and lil yn is forced to become a servant bc her powers are ultimately useless.

small yn is basically forced by the other employees to serve Leo bc none of em wanted to. Yn is scared and shy at first but then they kinda become friends (She even names him Leonardo bc its a very characteristic throughout her dreams and she thought it suit him) eventhough he has to hide it in public and pretend he doesnt gaf about the human because the other yokai would make fun of him and call him weak n pick on them. They basically grow up side by side, developing extreme loyalty to each other.

He's prissy and picky and an arrogant brat and hes possessive and caring and would protect yn with his entire being. He had to fight Big Mama for her to stay and not get kicked on the streets, making Big Mama send Leo on field missions as a punishment, making him take Yn with him, purposefully making her dead weight, but he always came out on top.

throughout the years Yn became very introverted and showed her true self only to leo bc that was her one and only safe place. They go on outings in the hidden city and run from the bellboys tryna catch them when BM finds out they snuck out.

The other turtles are all scattered.

Donatello is with Draxum, YN and Leo being the only ones that even call him Donatello. (Drax calls him Purple bc he's horrendous with names). He used to be a full on turtle mutant but because of Draxum training him until he was drained n tired asf there was a lab accident, making him half cyborg. His shell is now replaced with a deadly metal 'shell', one of his eyes is artificial, and eventhough he's trained in multiple weapons, he prefers using technology and working on war weapons making Big Mama and Draxum collaborate. Whenever there's a meeting both BM and Draxum would take their sons with them as 'theyre the succesors and should be there for future reference' though Leo thinks Big Mama wants to have a good image and show Draxum off by dangling something that she took from him right in his face. Well, if Leo's going, that automatically means YN is coming with him; he wont let her out of her periphery, wont make snatching his pet away from him easy for Big Mama. They basically met at those meetings, though they usually sent the younger ones elsewhere while the adults spoke of veery important things. Donatello absolutely hated YN at first bc she was human so him n leo almost fought, but YN, being a little familiar with Donnie from her dreams, started asking Donatello questions to appease him, making Donnie tolerate her (theyre working on extending that tolerance to all of humanity). Leo and Donnie's and Yn's relationship is on thin ice, but it is getting better- they visit don when theyre in the hidden city and help him with gathering materials from the overworld bc Purple wasnt allowed lol Loser. (they snuck him out and showed him the wonders of human tech though, once or twice.) Leo got his mystic weapon from Baron Draxum as a gift (eventhough he actually didnt want to give it. Donnie convinced him to do so because Drax had a fight with Big Mama and 'giving a gift to her son would show your utmost apologies and mend your business partnership') a way to get back into good graces w Big Mama and Draxum. Just business.

Raph (or Beast) is with the Foot Clan. He was raised very lovingly (bc they were prepping him for the shredder armor), and reveres shredder as his god bc while his parents may have 'loved' him, he was at the end of the day, just a tool to help shredder's revival (everyone in the clan thought so about themselves, they were veery cult like). Leo only knows of them bc he spotted them breaking into a mall while he was 'shopping' gifts for YN :3. he found them hilarious so he watched on as they struggled to fit Beast through multiple doors in the mall. The guy was huge, bigger than he was supposed to be. wtf were they feeding him?? Leo ofc records it and shows it to YN and she can deduce the future from her dreams and the way things r going irl and goes like oh shit this is bad lol we're fucked if someone doesnt do anything abt this and leos like will it hurt you? yn: yes. yes leo it will. leo: oh okay dw then yn ill steal it from them hehe. so he trolls the foot clan whenever he can just for funsies (Leo is also slightly insane n arrogant, so being a little shit comes naturally to him). Whilst he was stalking the top execs he comes across a binding ritual for two or more people. He watched and listened as it was explained thru a book. He stole the ritual book and read through it himself, coming up with an idea himself.

He brings the book to YN and tells her he wants to souldbond with her. (their relationship is like: i belong to leo and only leo but we're not dating n vice versa... like kiss alr smh.) A soulbond is an irreversible binding contract between two people, which allows them to communicate their intent just by their thoughts and solidifying their involvement with each other. It can only be broken if one of them dies. Yn agrees and they make the soulbond without any regrets. No one knows about it but Donnie, whose eye had strong mystic receptors iy already. He saw the chains binding the 2 together and gagged the moment he found out what it meant LMAO.

Raphs fighting style are his body and tail only. hes a brute through and through, his older sister is Cass.

Mikey is with Splinter, who felt so guilty of being unable to save mikeys brothers he unintentionally started neglecting Mikey and developed depression. Mikey bless his soul has been doing his best to keep it together and bring his bros together. He doesnt succeed at it very much and only represses his emotions until he cant anymore, and when that happens lets say the city had a few buildings to fix. Mikey stole the Kusari fundo from Draxum, and its his main weapon.

April, who has Mayhem as her pet, is trying to become a journalist, so she's always at the fights, writing stuff down and then publishing them. Her main way of staying safe is Mayhem's portals lol. She's been saved multiple times by Yn begging leo to give her mercy lol. None of the turtles rlly interact w her.

YN is very shy and closed off. She can be very calculative and manipulative if dhe wants to, making her the perfect s/o for leo, who can analyse a situation and come up on top with the best outcome, as well as pull any information out of anyone, violently or not. He needs constant praise. Leo has a short fuse, and Yn is his perfect match, always calming the situation down before it could make leo explode; she knows all his triggers and tells and weaknesses, as does he for her since they yknow, grew up together.

TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS PLEASE

#rise tmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt leo #rottmnt #rottmnt leo x reader #au idea #au in progress #i guess??#might post this on ao3 maybe #ao3 #moroneur #i love them so much #they've been living in my head for abt a month #rent free #tmnt #rottmnt separated au #idiot talk #soulbond au

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tumblingxelian · 9 hours

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Trope - Disney Princess Syndrome

"Disney Princess Syndrome" is my personal name for the trope of a rich or powerful character portrayed as "Nice", "Good" or "Down to earth". Because they want to hang around "Normal/Real people" and want to be treated like a "Regular person" or otherwise does not think their phenomenal wealth makes them abnormal.

This trope/character concept is usually contrasted against another rich or powerful persons who flaunts their wealth intentionally, is aware they are rich and tends to be snooty, cocky or otherwise act in a manner that is more reflective of their phenomenal wealth.

Usually these characters are contrasted so that we like the former but hate the latter but weirdly… I often find myself either disliking both or liking the latter more. Largely cos they at least seem self aware of their circumstances and so come off as less frustratingly flippant or willfully ignorant.

Examples will be drawn from, Miraculous Ladybug.

I will largely avoid talking about how X character was raised, or trauma that might influence this behavior. But keep in mind people with bad home lives can often act out in ways that don't make them a "good" victim.

In ML, you have "Wants to be a normal boy" Adrien, "Wants to meet sincere people" Princes Ali, and "This is all so artificial" Musician Jagged Stone. They are contrasted against hotel heiress, Mayors daughter & smug about it Chloe.

Now:

Chloe's a brat, a jerk & a snob to be sure, however I still somehow find her less hypocritical or deluded than these other three because at least she seems aware of her circumstances and what they mean for her VS others. Jagged treats doing a small autograph session with the mayor like its some horrible imposition and he flips out at being expected to follow trends he deems artificial. But he also drags his literal assistant with him everywhere to manage his life, keeps a pet alligator on him at all times & can be extremely rude and demanding. But it never feels acknowledged in the same way as with Chloe, because he's 'real'. Prince Ali acts like its weird for people to try and charm or otherwise please him when assigned to give him a tour for a whole event about himself. He also seems to neglect what would be fairly typical greetings for someone of his class & position despite likely being taught them. This again ties into making him seem 'genuine' but comes off as just odd. Adrien balances it best by wanting his father to be less controlling and his father is indeed controlling. But he's also only bothered by Chloe, her parents or his fathers haughty behavior if it alienates him or people he wants to be friends with. He laughs it off or otherwise tends to ignore it with staff but is meant to be better.

This isn't to say a character 'can't' want these things, or find the trappings of wealth utterly unsatisfying. Especially children who are not themselves actually rich and exist at the whims of their parents who are often functionally immune to the law.

Its more an issue with how the trope tends to be executed. Both in terms of the "Disney Princess" who wants to be "Out there" having no self awareness of their wealth, or internal hypocrisy. With this being framed as more endearing than anything, despite often coming off as entitled or selfish by accident.

Or in how the rich jerk just ends up feeling more grounded, or accidentally becomes sympathetic because they are usually an antagonist. Thus meaning they not only have to lose, but usually are surrounded by people like themselves. Leaving the impression their behavior is less to do with having the money to get away with t and more born of mistreatment.

& that as they say is that.

#Meta #Text Post #Miraculous Ladybug #Disney Princess Syndrome

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benevolentcannibal · 1 year

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swimmin' 🐟🐟

#sanlu #lusan #monkey d. luffy #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #one piece fanart #one piece #sanji vinsmoke #mermaid au #my art #fuck him right sanji or he'll fuck you #he's having a good time. just being a brat as usual #if you squint luffy looks like a tomboy and that's how sanji's coping with this #not gay if the balls can't touch

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theood · 1 year

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while im in an oversharing mood last time my baby cousin was over I heard a phrase yelled at her from upstairs and I haven't had that level of a panic attack start to set in as quick as it did since I was in school!

People who know know. My breathing was fucked and I dipped in my parents room and no amount of telling myself to get a fucking hold of us was working B)

#i got a distraction enough but I was on edge for a while after that bc it really was just like I got put back into little mes shoes and we #were being yelled at again for not reacting perfectly like how people wanted #At the time of yelling for my baby cousin the mindset I was having could have been comparable 2 when id be locked in my room or sent away #and screaming I was sorry for whatever wasn't being talked over and I would be ignored until I calmed down #once I was throwing literally throwinf written apologies and sobbing and being continually ignored bc I acted out poorly #younger me had. he had a lot of big boy emotions as a little kid and no one dealt with it right you know? it wasn't my fault but I was lead #to it. bc I was being a brat. always always a brat.#I would get told that through closed teeth and being grabbed hard by my mom usually a lot growing up #fun fact though the way I apologize now and how I handle upsetting people is directly bc I was severely ignored in childhood! No I don't do #well with conflict thanks for noticing #I do really bad with it. I had a thing happen with a friend once and I spent hours screaming and belittling myself bc I was convinced I was #the bad guy and fucked up another good thing (bc I was led 2 feed that thought pattern early) and I convinced myself I wasn't good for him #it got solved fine but I was NOT nice to myself at all

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gamblersdoll · 2 months

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so sukuna usually goes for a woman who holds her own in a fight. its believed that he was more attracted and would even become a flirt even mid fight…. tw for sexual themes.

so imagine how confused you would be when you are with yuuji in your dorm and having a nice time and sukuna just stares at you through his cheek, somewhat a glare but smile. in confuses you, almost making you tilt your head.

“im going to put a brat in you.” he says, then suddenly leaving the scene, causing you to fret and be on guard anytime and anywhere. and leaving such a frantic and apologetic yuuji.

whats even worse is if your group were to exercise a curse spirit somewhere and its on you and yuuji, sukuna would definitely take the time to potentially force a switch or convince the poor baby to switch. and sukuna is doing his best to try and wound you– youre fast, and you already landed three good blows on him.

but things do come to an end, you being cornered and having to hear sukuna say the most disgusting things.

“you wouldnt be a bad wife, could make you have at most two brats.” or holding you while you squirm, groping at a fat breast and squeezing, hoping you dont moan. and he goes “these things dont hold you back? i just wanna bite into them… would taste so good.”

it also occurs when you sleep too. the intoxicating feeling of his fingers are still on your skin, he had to be an incubus. but you were suddenly dreaming about him eating your precious fat pussy too, suckling on your clit and have two hands hold your hips down, two hands hold your legs up while he eats you so sloppy. he can always be a messy eater, and he mumbles .. praise?

“havent had good pussy in years.”

“fuck, that brat hadnt eaten you at all ?”

“i demand your cum, i want you to cum.”

and when you wake up your folds are soaked with spit drooling down your ass cheeks. and with your shirt scrambled up and a bra pushed up.. was he in here? was it a dream? you didnt know. why was he so suddenly interested?

its only the next time you saw him, the cut you had given him had scarred up and he smirks at the sight of it. this only caused him to think of little exchanges for you to show yourself raw to him.

“if you land another three blows, ill have you sit on my face.” he said, eyes lidded and his signature grin plastered.

you ended up with a swollen clit, from its poor abuse and with bruised thighs, because he just had to make you sit still while he ate you out.

#jjk x reader #jjk spoilers #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk leaks #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu itadori #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer

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sweet-as-an-angel · 6 months

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MW2 Reaction To You Being Their Controversially Young Girlfriend

Warnings: Implied Smut, Legal Age Gap, Age Gap Relationships, Daddy Kink, Older Man/Younger Woman, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Possessive MW2, Degradation, Mention of Corruption, Mentions of Innocence, Mentions of Naivety, Praise Kink (M Giving), Implied Choking Kink, Angry Sex, Groping, Brat Taming, Man Handling/Woman Handling, Dumbification Kink, Gentle MW2, Rough MW2, Self-Consciousness, Mentions of Blood/Injury, Insecurity, Profanity, Pet Names, Fem Pronouns Used For Reader.

Ghost

Pretends he doesn’t care about the age gap, but he secretly does.

You’d never know it, but he worries that he’s roping you into a relationship – a long-term one at that – when you should be out, meeting guys, gaining life experience.

He also fears that, in some way, he’s corrupting you, that his selfish desire to keep you close to him will lead to you being targeted or you eventually resenting him.

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him otherwise, he’s still going to worry about you.

There are a few ways you can put his mind at ease, though. Namely of the bedroom variety.

More on this later 👀.

He spoils you silly, absolutely rotten. Anything that catches that pretty little eye of yours and he’s already got it gift wrapped. He feels it’s the least he can do after you’ve shown him that life isn’t just an endless cycle of suffering – an infinitum of anguish – that he does deserve happiness and a chance at love.

Very gentle during sex. Unless you ask him not to be.

Expect a lot of praise in bed.

Many a night have you found yourself pinned under Simon, his mouth to your ear as he pants, moaning, telling you how you’re “Such a good girl, taking me so well,” while he fills you with long, languid strokes.

Other times, he’s not so gentle.

Oftentimes, usually as a result of purposefully making Ghost jealous, have you been pinned against a hard surface – one of convenience rather than comfort – with Simon at your back, the tent in his pants catching you.

His voice is deep, husking and carnal as he reminds you who you belong to.

“Like having your pretty little cunt ravaged by an older man, don’t you, Love.”

He’s very protective of you.

He sometimes construes your young age as innocence, naivete. Hence, he never lets you out of his sight when you’re out together.

Scary dog privileges.

Absolutely feral, down bad for you: you only have to do or say the most minimal of things to make him melt, to become a slave to his adoration for you.

That being said, he’s paranoid that one day you’ll see him as he views himself and leave him for someone better – someone you deserve. Someone younger.

He’s damaged goods, you still have your whole life to live. And yet you stay with him, promise him that he’s the only man you’ll ever love.

As stated earlier, Simon can be persuaded of your dedication to him via special, particular means.

However, if you play into his insecurities, even to get a rise out of him, he’ll pounce on you, grab your wrists and pin you to a wall, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him.

And, beneath dark lashes and darker eyes, he makes a promise to you.

“Oh, you think a younger lover can pleasure you like I can?” he says, his head tilting. “Don’t you worry, Darling. I’ll fuck that idea outta that pretty little head of yours until the only thing rattling around in there is me.”

König

Somewhat insecure in your relationship. Especially when he gets disapproving glances and glares from passers-by when they note the very obvious age difference between the two of you.

But, his love for you can overcome any measure of anguish, social or otherwise.

He’s the gentlest giant you could ever hope to meet, both in and out of bed.

When he feels like it.

He treats you like you’re innocent and pure, shielding your eyes from graphic scenes on TV and gruesome stories in the newspaper.

Sometimes he has to remind himself that you’re a fully-grown woman, even if you are younger than him.

You send him absolutely feral whenever you wear his clothes btw.

Seeing as any one of his shirts could be your nightdress, he calls you his “Minnie Maus”, and treats you as such.

Pls sit on his lap, he’ll only be able to die happy once you do.

He fears judgement from others whenever you enact PDA, so to make up for his lack of willing to be physical with you in public, there isn’t a moment where you’re without him at home.

Extended periods of time in your presence tend to send him a bit…funny.

A little bit silly.

And by silly, I mean there’s a single thread of humanity keeping him from tearing your clothes off at any given second.

Especially if he’s seen a younger guy looking at you earlier in the day.

One of the few times he’ll get physical with you in public is whenever he catches someone looking at you with a glaze over their eyes he knows all too well.

He approaches you from behind, slipping a pythonic arm about your waist and pulling you into him.

Only now does your admirer look away, leave the premises entirely, once they catch sight of König’s gargantuan proportions and the rabid look in his eye.

Once you get home, he’s on you before you can even shut the door.

It’s times like these that König doesn’t feel insecure about the age gap between you.

Because he knows, no matter how little you’re willing to admit it, that nobody will ever be able to make you scream and cry and tremble like he can.

“Did you like that boy’s attention earlier, Maus?” he says, his eyes cattish and voice serpentine. He bears down on you, his hand about your throat as the other travels under your skirt.

“Is my love not enough? Are my affections wasted on you?”

His eyes glint in the dim light of the bedroom. His teeth look sharper – primal – in the low glow of the bedside lamp.

“No matter. I’ll make you remember how much you need me,” he presses into you. The bulge between his legs feels far too big for you to take.

“Inch by bloody inch.”

Valeria

You’re her little Angel, her Goddess, the light of her life and her reason for living.

That does not exempt you from her teasing, however.

Sexual or otherwise.

She’s particularly fond of randomly grabbing your backside when she’s walking past, or smacking it so hard that you yelp and she’s grinning from ear to ear.

Even if you use your puppy-dog eyes on her, disobedience is not accepted under her roof.

In fact, trying to wriggle out of any punishment she has planned is enough to make her grab you and pin you to a wall, her grip unrelenting as she sucks and bites your neck, leaving harsh red marks and a sense of helplessness as she does what she pleases with you.

“Don’t go fucking around behind my back again, Chiquita,” she tells you, her nose touching yours and her eyes black. She brings her knee between your legs, pressing into you.

“Or next time I won’t just stop at your throat.”

She loves dressing you up in the finest clothing money (and a ghastly reputation) can buy.

She thrives on having you hanging off her arm like a dog on a leash; she gets to show you off to her subordinates and business partners who know they’ll never even have the thought of having a chance with you entertained.

Valeria’s mood can fluctuate in bed.

Sometimes, she treats you like a common whore she found on the street, fucking every ounce of rage, hate and venom into you until some part of you’s left bleeding as Valeria’s panting on top of you, her lips to your cheeks as she kisses your tears away with a whiplash-inducing gentleness she seemed incapable of minutes ago.

Most of the time, she’s loving and kind, putting your needs above her own.

Sure, she still teases you, makes you work for her love and dedication, but you know she’d do anything for you.

You can tell in her tone as she tells you of how she would “Scorch the earth if only to find a fragment of you in the wreckage.”

You disappearing or being taken from her is her biggest fear, and at night she holds you tightly against her chest, your buffer against the world she would sooner see in flames than relinquish you to.

Price

He’s so father-coded fr.

He calls you his little girl, his Princess, Love, Darling, Dollie — anything that highlights your fragile nature.

Shows you off to his friends just so he can show them what they’re missing. He adores the feeling of you curling further into him under the eyes of his task force, the look in their eyes relating something savage, primal, as they look at your bare thighs – the pinnacle of which shadowed by John’s shirt – and watch something they can never have, never touch.

John hides his insecurity well, but he does secretly worry about the age gap.

Especially when he watches younger men looking at you in ways he does.

The difference being that, while they offered you the world and would give you nothing, you are John’s world.

When you can tell John’s feeling worried, comforting him is a surprisingly easy task.

A kiss to the temple and the promise that he’s the only man for you is usually enough to put his mind at ease and make his face break out into a smile.

On the rare occasion it isn’t, however, alternative methods are at your disposal.

E.g. screaming John’s name into the night as your nails drag down the expanse of his back, bodies scorching as he brings you to tears with his touch and his unrelenting pace.

He will absolutely hold his rank/age over you when he’s like this, no longer a point of contention or shame for him as he tells you he’s the “Only one who can make you whimper like a fuckin’ dog,”

“Such a good girl for me, my good little cocksleeve,” he rasps in your ear as he bounces you on top of him, his hands about your waist, preventing you from fleeing or falling off.

“God, you’re so beautiful — so— fuck— gorgeous.” He’s panting, gasping, growling.

“And all mine.”

Horangi

You’re the only thing that matters to him.

At this point, he only remains as a military contractor to ensure that he can keep you in the style to which you are accustomed.

Calls you 자기야 (Jagiya – Honey, Darling).

His favourite thing to do is sit you between his legs and wrap around you like armour.

In case you couldn’t tell, he’s highly protective of you.

You can make him do absolutely anything — he’s at your beck and call.

You can get him to buy you anything if you give him what he likes to call ‘kitten eyes’ eyes.

Even if you’re being a brat, he remains calm and treats you like his little angel, his sweetpea.

Unless you push him too far.

At which point, he won’t hesitate to tame you if you try your luck.

He’ll have you bent over his lap, holding you down with his forearm as he turns your thighs and backside red-raw with the slap of his belt.

“Don’t start crying now, 자기 — you brought this on yourself.”

He never fails in the aftercare department, though.

Always filling your head with words of affirmation as he bathes you, carrying you to bed and tending to your skin with soothing creams and soft touches.

Hong-jin goes super feral crazy when you call him 오빠.

A common honorific used towards any man older than the person using it.

Even if you don’t understand the implications of it, Hong-jin does. And yes, it does tend to make him a bit silly.

Silly enough to know that he’s not going to last long and needs to get home ASAP to deal with…something.

Which he also makes your problem, pressing messy, desperate kisses to your lips as he tries to get his shirt off, your hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat skyrocketing.

“I need you, (Y/N),” he says, breathless, almost growling. Yet, his eyes are wide, pleading. A doe-eyed prince with the aura of a wolf king. “And I’ll have every inch of you.”

Alejandro

Pre-established passionate lover.

One who is fiercely protective over you.

If anyone — and I mean anyone — catcalls you, makes passes at you, or even looks at you in the wrong way, Alejandro makes sure to enact righteous fury upon them.

He’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re 110% satisfied, regardless of context.

You want a new wardrobe ? It’s done. A new car ? All yours. You need Alejandro now and it can’t wait ? Why, how can he say no when you whine like that, when you tug at his sleeve and tuck your head against his shoulder.

He calls you “mi Princesa” and makes sure everybody knows you’re his and he’s yours.

A thorough lover is how you might describe him.

Especially after he’s so willing to bend you against the nearest surface to get you off, no matter the time of day.

You can bring him to his knees with just a look. Turn him from the most respected soldier in his department into a feral wolf.

Which, if you play your cards right, can end very well for both of you.

Alejandro likes to play a game whenever you’re riding him.

He grabs you by your hips and anchors you on top of him.

“Let’s see how long you can hold on for, mi Corazón,” he says, flashing you a sultry smile before he’s bucking into you at the pace of a mechanical rodeo horse at full speed.

“Holding on” can mean anything from not being pounded off Ale’s hips to staving off your orgasm for as long as you can.

Failure to do either is when you see Alejandro at his most wicked. When he’s all teeth, a shark’s grin, his eyes dark and his voice low as he tells you that he needs to “Train your endurance. How else are you going to take me again, hm?”

Needless to say, you’ll be lucky to be able to get out of bed the next day.

Rodolfo

His heart beats only for you. And as a result, he treats you like royalty.

As he should.

You want it ? You got it.

In abundance.

You have the best of everything and Rudy loves nothing more than seeing your face light up when you receive one of his many gifts.

That, and having you sat on his lap, raking your fingers through his hair as he tells you about his day.

He omits the more gruesome details, fearing he’ll taint you with the blood on his hands if he doesn’t.

Speaking of lap-sitting, it’s your one-way ticket to an eventful afternoon with Rudy.

Cockwarming is his go-to, your legs wrapped about his waist as he fills out reams of paperwork, pressing kisses to your shoulder and telling you “What a good girl you’re being, mi amor,”

Be prepared for a tidal wave of praise for doing the bare minimum.

It doesn’t matter if Rudy’s topping or bottoming, he’s going to let you know how you’re making him feel, how nobody will ever ensnare him like you do.

“I love you,” he rasps, eyes half-lidded and skin glistening with sweat as you take him.

“I love you, I love you so much–” He growls, back arching into you as you catch a sensitive area. His chest is heaving and his eyes are dark.

“I’ll never let anyone else have you.”

Graves

This guy was made to have a controversially young girlfriend.

Calls you “Babydoll”, “Babygirl”, “Little Lady”, etc.

He unironically refers to himself as “Daddy”.

E.g. “You were eyein’n up that necklace for a while, Darlin’…” His hand slips to the crotch of his jeans, rocking his bulge into his palm.

“Maybe if you ask Daddy real nicely, he’ll get it for you.”

He’s actually very caring. He’d buy you the world if it meant seeing you smile.

He never expects anything from you in return.

He just can’t pass up the opportunity to have you in his arms, to touch you.

Graves can tend to go overboard with the gifts, though.

Calls you “young thing” when he’s feeling humourous.

On the flip-side, he can (and will) use your age gap against you. Like Price, but more Southern.

He’ll be very condescending when he’s mad, tending to use terms that undermine how intelligent and capable you really are.

“If you’d just listened to me and gotten it through your tiny head that I’m doing what’s best for you, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

On the flip-flip-side, he uses your age gap as a jumping-off point into…dubious activities.

#1 dumbification kink enjoyer.

He’s a switch with top lean, what can I say.

“Can’t do anything without me, can you, Sweetheart.” It’s not a question. His eyes are too serious, too stern, for it to be. He’s pounding into you, hands either side of your head, caging you beneath him.

Between his panting, he presses a wet, uncoordinated kiss to your lips.

“I’ll make sure you can’t even think without me by the time I’m done with you.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad

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theragethatisdesire · 10 months

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scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.”

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin.

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it.

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch.

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

#aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren x you #eren yaeger x you #eren yeager smut #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger fic #eren jaeger fanfiction

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lxnarphase · 10 days

Text

sweet, sticky, thick, and pretty ๋࣭ ⭑

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : toji wants to give you another baby

☾₊‧⁺...cw : toji fushiguro x fem!reader, smut, penetrative sex, pre-established relationship, overstimulation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, rough sex, begging, smug and cocky reader, feral toji

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : this is a post from my old blog but i revamped it and i really wanted to share this again because i was really proud of it. and yes, it's another breeding kink + pregnant kink. consider it a part two, since it takes place after megumi is born

toji never thought he’d get off on the idea of having another kid with you.

yet here he is, dick hard in his sweatpants as he thinks about you carrying his baby again...how you'd start to fill out all over again, that cute chubbiness coming back, how he'd have an excuse to dote on you whenever you complained about the simplest of things.

it starts off with how he sees you coo over megumi, calling him your sweet baby. you're such a good mother, too, it's clear you'd likely be the favorite parent to that little brat.

but god, does he find it attractive just seeing you be a mom to the kid that he gave you.

the day you ask megumi what he wants for his upcoming 4th birthday at dinner, neither one of you is prepared for the words that come out of your son's mouth.

“i want a baby sister,” he states bluntly as he chews on the steamed carrots, looking at you and toji. it was clear from how confident the little guy is that he's put a lot of thought into this.

“but, i don’t want her to look like daddy. he’s ugly, i want her to look like mommy.”

little brat. you straight up choke, trying to stop the laugh-coughs as toji looks at his son, offended. this really is his son, because who else but you and the kid he made with you could have the nerve to say shit like that to him?

“twerp, you look just like me, you realize that, right?”

megumi huffs, looking at his dad in the cutest little glare. “that’s 'cause i'm a boy, though," he explains as if it's obvious, his precious little cheeks puffed up as he stuffs more of his food in his mouth.

"my sister has to be like mommy. you’d be an ugly girl, daddy.” toji just rolls his eyes, pinching the cheeks of the mini him, ignoring his protests. as the two bicker, you think. would it...really be that bad to have another baby? you always wanted a girl, after all, and toji took such good care of you and megumi...it couldn't be that bad. “well, uhm,” you begin, catching the attention of toji, an unfamiliar smile on your face.

there's a mischievous look on your face right now, his eyes narrowing as he waits for your response. whatever you're about to say is either going to haunt him for the next few days or make him roll his eyes at you.

“i'm sure daddy and i can work something out for you, 'gumi, but let’s think of some other things, too, m'kay?”

ah.

you went the haunting route.

ignoring the little cheer his son let out, toji can't hide the disbelieving look that crosses his face when he processes what you just said.

'daddy'?

you've said the word, sure, usually when you talk to megumi about him. but something was different about how you said it, the way you looked at him when you said it, the barely visible flutter of your eyes...a silent promise there'd definitely be a deeper conversation about it later.

the very day megumi has a sleepover with the neighbor's kid, yuuji, toji is mentally cheering. he loves his son with all his heart, he truly does, but having a toddler in bed meant limited contact with his pretty wife.

it's only been 3 days since that little comment you made and it's been on toji's mind constantly. every time he tried to bring it up with you, megumi would interrupt and toji was not being the reason his son ended up traumatized because he overheard mommy and daddy talking about making babies in the kitchen.

"bye, gumi! make sure you behave for mr. nanami, okay? have fun with yuuji," you coo as you press two kisses to your son's cheeks, snapping toji back to the present.

"see ya, kid, be good," toji says, giving a nod of acknowledgement to nanami. megumi barely says goodbye before he runs after yuuji to the car, his run a bit awkward because of his overnight backpack.

waving goodbye to nanami, you shut the door, turning to look at toji with that smile as you.

"hi, toj."

you think you're so cute, don't you?

"hey, mama."

toji can't even lie, you are. wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants? yeah, your the cutest thing he's ever laid eyes one. his hands rest on your hips, pulling you flush to his chest. fuck, you weren't even doing anything but he could already feel himself getting hard just from looking at you.

he's never been so whipped in his life.

"d'you wanna talk," you murmur lowly, your finger running over the thin silver chain on his neck. "we could go to the bedroom...and talk about the baby thing."

toji's eyes darken at the suggestion, knowing exactly what would happen the moment you both go into the bedroom. "yeah. think it's 'bout time we talked about it," he hums as he grips your wrist, tugging you to your room.

as soon you both step foot into the bedroom, toji hungrily presses your lips against his, letting out a deep groan. "had me thinkin' about knockin' you up again all fuckin' week, mama," toji sighs against your lips, tongue running over your lower lip.

"wanted to stuff you full so fucking bad."

feeling you sigh so prettily into the kiss, his doesn't hesitate to shove his tongue in your mouth, hands busying themselves as they push your (his) sweats down off your hips before guiding you back to the bed.

you knew he would get excited over your comment, but you didn't think it would be to the point where he was rutting into you as he practically devoured you, feeling your back hit the bed.

“you want to give our 'gumi a sister? wanna be a mommy again," he questions, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. one of his hands slithers up under the oversized t-shirt to cup one of your tits and roughly knead it, his thumb just barely grazing over your nipple.

"wanna have another kid with big, bad toji? tsk, poor cunt missed gettin' stuffed full of cum?"

you just hum a little breathless. your hand comes up to cup his cheek, looking from his lips back up to his eyes. he's so handsome when he's over you like this, his chain dangling right in your face.

“maaaaybe. megumi just made me think about it, 's all. you've been a good dad t' him, how could i not want to give you another one,” you coo, guiding him closer so you can press a kiss against the scar on his lip.

“besides…”

toji grunts when he feels your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him flush against you so you can feel the thick, heaviness of his arousal through his sweatpants.

“don’t you want me to make you a daddy again, toji? c'mon, knock me up, big guy.”

after those words leave your pretty little mouth, toji is on you as he realizes that you're 100% going to give him the worse breeding kink ever.

"'m gonna fuckin' ruin you," he growls into your ear. you aren't given a second to protest before he's ripped your panties off, complaints falling on deaf ears. the tips of his fingers gently run over your puffy pussy lips, your slick wetness coating his fingers.

"fuck, mama, you're soaked already." his eyes are focused on your face as you squirm and whimper when he swirls little circles into your clit, an evil smirk on his face. "can't wait to fill you up 'til you're dripping with my cum, doll."

you can't stop your hips from trying to grind into his hand, eyes rolling back when he teased your entrance. "toji, c'mon, baby, i need you s'bad."

"baby, you know you can't take me without prep," he coos at you. he can feel how hot and slick you are, finally, finally slipping two of his fingers inside your cunt. and oh, the way you arch your back a little bit with a pleading whine of his name is so, so pretty, you're so fucking cute.

"mmn, maybe y'don't need prep, you just sucked my fingers right in," he says huskily before pressing a little kiss to the corner of your mouth. "you wanna try, mama? wanna see if you can fit my cock in you? really gonna feel that stretch, though, babe," toji warns, knowing you can't give a sensible answer when he starts pumping his fingers in and out.

when it seems like your about to answer him, the only thing that escapes your mouth is a shaky moan, his thick fingers curling to hit just the right spot inside of you that has you gushing. unable to form words, you tug on his shirt and nod frantically, just wanting to feel toji stuffing you full.

"yeah? you wanna try?" toiji pulls his fingers out of you, chuckling when you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness. he pops his fingers in his mouth, cock throbbing at the addictive taste of your cunt on his tongue. "c'mon, we're both wearing too much, let's get you outta that shirt, ma."

you waste no time throwing the shirt off, not even giving him the chance to undress you. but once your shirt is off, you're practically ripping off his stupid black t-shirt that made his pecs look fucking delicious and those damn sweatpants and boxers that hid your prize.

as you fuss over his boxers, toji takes a moment to look at you spread out on the bed before him. you still had a bit of chub on you, tummy nice and soft and cute, just how he likes it. if he knew where his phone was, he'd take a picture of you right now; frustrated, horny, naked, and pretty. all for him.

"tojiiii, stop staring and kick off your stupid boxers, you're getting on my nerves!"

you can't even look him in the eye as you say that because you're too busy staring right at his cock, a thick bead of precum formed at the tip. the lick of your lips told him everything he needed to know, but he wasn't fucking your mouth, not tonight at least.

"what? i can't look at my own wife," he asks with a raised eyebrow, biting back a laugh when you swat at his hand that pinches one your puffy nipple. "tch, so rude, doll."

before you can snap back at him, he brushes the swollen head of his cock against your slick folds, smearing your wet over the tip. that shuts you up quickly and toji has to hold back another laugh. always so fussy until he finally gives you what you want. he's spoiled you rotten.

"toji," comes a soft whine, so soft he nearly misses it. your eyes are focused between your legs, lower lips between your teeth as he teases you with his cockhead. you huff, pushing your hand against his chest to give you enough space to shift positions, knowing exactly what would get him to stop teasing you.

once you roll over, you shift so that you're face down, ass up, you hand slipping between your thighs to spread your sticky pussy open, slick dripping down your fingers. "tojiiii, please? please, baby, stop teasing an' put a baby in me...please, hubby, give your wife what she wants."

any other whines or begs are interrupted when his hand comes down hard on your ass. he was going to give you what you wanted, what you both wanted. he was going to fuck you, fill you up with all his cum and whatever leaked out? he’d make sure to push it back in, whether with his fingers, mouth, or tip of his dick.

when he finally pushes into you, he just lets out the most wrecked groan you’ve heard from him yet, each inch sinking into you stretching those tight walls just a bit more.

"holy shit...fuuck me, baby, too fucking tight, you're strangling my cock," he hisses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he gave you inch after inch.

god, just the thought of fucking you not just to feel good, but to fill you up, get you to take his seed deep inside to give him another kid? it's fucking with his head, his wife was gonna be the death of him.

both of you moan once he's all the way inside. you feel so full, his cock is too fucking big it doesn't make any sense and you genuinely think you should've let him fully prep you...but shifting your hips just a little bit has his tip pressing against something sinful. you whine and reach back to grab at one of his hands on your waist, turning to shoot him a mean glare as you demand, “stop stalling n’ knock me up, toji."

who is he to deny what his wife asks?

using a hand to steady himself on the headboard, his hips begin to move slowly, pulling out just an inch and pushing forward again. "so tight 'n' warm..." each thrust hits deeper and more powerful than the last as toji begins to pick up speed, the thickness of his cock hitting every deep part of you.

it's almost too much, but you don't want him to stop, especially not when toji started running his mouth.

“shit, look at you, baby…takin’ it like a champ.”

now you really wish you stayed on your back, then at least you could've slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up. you drop your head down against the mattress with a moan, starting to move your hips to match his thrusts, the room filling with the sound of skin slapping on skin.

“fuuck, c'mon, throw that ass back on me, thaaaat’s it, good girl.”

he starts pounding into you harder when he feels you tightening up on him. the sweet moans and adorable words of “gimme more,” “baby, please,” or “s’ too good, toj,’” only pushing him to get even deeper, to get you to cum so he could stuff you full.

he coos when he sees you starting to scramble up further on the bed, away from his relentless fucking. he knows that he found that sweet spot that would have you creaming in minutes.

"tsk, you just never fuckin' learn, huh? 's always gonna be too much for you, isn't it," he huffs as his hand finds its way into your hair, tugging your head back to keep you from moving more. “hey. hey, nonono, don’t run away from it, lemme have it," he coos at you, following you up the mattress.

you never change, always swearing up and down that you wouldn't run from his cock, that you'd be able to take him. you wanted this, you wanted your precious husband to fuck another baby into you, t'give 'gumi a little sister, s’ i’m gonna give it to you.”

toji may sound like he’s still put together, but he’s just thankful you can’t see his face since yours is pressed into the pillows at the top of the bed.

you can’t see how he’s barely holding himself together, trying his hardest not to let himself go too much. the last thing he needs is to cum before you, knowing that while you wouldn’t mind, he’d be annoyed for breaking his streak.

he’s brought back into the present when you manage to turn your head a little, able to look him in the eye, and god, does he love what he sees.

your mouth is open as you moan for him, eyes lidded and focused on only him. he sees the little tears gathered in them, not quite spilling over but the fact that they’re there tells him he’s the one making you feel that good.

“tuh-toji, ’m gonna cum, gonna cum—!”

"yeah?" hearing you moan so sweetly for him only makes toji smirk, fingers digging into your hips as he helps you meet each thrust. “gonna make a mess f'me already? poor little cunt can't handle gettin' fucked so good? mmn, shit, 's okay, baby. let go for me, mama, cum on daddy’s cock.”

"t-tojiiiii," you shakily moan, nearly ripping the sheets as you cum suddenly. it was his voice, the way he tried to sound put together but you could hear how desperate he was to feel your pussy clamp down on him and get his cock nice and messy.

toji's deep, guttural moans mix with your cries when he unexpected is pushed over the edge, the way you desperately grinded back against him causing him to swear under his breath as he lost his pace, groaning your name as he emptied into you. it felt so hot, the pulsating warmth of his tip nudging against your cervix paired with his thick cum filling you up dizzying the both of you.

you expect some kind of snarky comment from toji, trying to catch your breath so you could reply when he said it. but nothing comes (you have to stop yourself from laughing at the pun). you turn to look back, sighing when toji pulls out of you. usually he stayed inside, leaning down to tease you for cumming so fast...but he didn't.

something was wrong and for some reason, you felt like your pussy was in danger.

“toj…?”

he didn’t answer. he probably didn’t even hear you, not with the way he was looking so intensely at the mess between your thighs. the mess he made. toji doesn’t know what comes over him, his hands practically moving on their own as he moves you over onto your back, then moving his hands down to your sensitive hole and spreading.

the scene in front of him just breaks him. you let out a soft whine, hips gently rolling into his hands. his eyes stay stuck between your legs—sharp and focused—as they watch the thick globs of his hot cum drip out of your hole and down onto the bed sheets.

the groan that leaves him is sinful, and once you make eye contact with him, you realize how fucked you are. he’s hard again, almost making you believe he didn’t cum if it weren’t for the creamy sheen of his cum on his throbbing dick and the hotness of his dripping out of you. before you know it, toji’s climbing over you, making sure your legs get pushed over to his shoulders as he pushes you into a mating press.

yeah.

you're fucked.

you keep making eye contact, and now that he’s so close to you, you see how crazed he looks. his eyes, completely black due to his blown pupils, have an unhinged look in them, and the half smirk on his face only makes you worry about your ability to walk the next day.

“t-toji, if you need a break to calm down, then-oh!”

he shuts you up by pushing himself inside you, loving how your eyes cross so prettily. he has you now, you can't run away from the overstimulating feeling of him fucking you in this position. and when you feel his hands come up and lock together on your head to really keep you in place, you feel yourself gush all over his cock at the simple display of how strong he was compared to you.

you're so fucked.

all you can do is moan and cry out his name, hands grabbing whatever part of him they could reach. but he doesn't let you break eye contact, keeping you close to his face so he could see every little expression. and fuck, does he like what he sees.

“t-tojiii, t’ deep, t’ deep!”

“wan’ me t’ stop? t’ stop fuckin’ this messy hole?”

“fuck, y-you stop, and I’ll c-choke the shit out of yo-ouh!”

“that’s it, take it, take daddy’s cock, mama, lemme breed you.”

everything about this position is driving both of you crazy.

the closeness has you reeling, the way toji just cannot bring himself to break eye contact, needing to see what he was doing to you.

his thick cock is hitting deep, almost too deep, with the way each thrust of his hips causes the tip to press into the sweet spot inside you every. single. time.

he has you for the whole day and the whole night, he's going to make sure you're stuffed entirely and doesn't plan on stopping until either you tell him you need a break or until he can't cum anymore. and even then, he doesn't think anything will be able to get him out of your cunt.

but with the way he just moaned into your mouth, thick spurts of more cum coating your insides…and the way he didn’t get soft, instead pressing you even deeper into the mattress as he began to pound into you with a groan of how much he loved your pussy…

you were sure it would be a while until he was done with you.

#toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushigro x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #🔪 ── toji.#𖤐 ── lxnarworks.

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