reaper!deku x f!reader
summary - deku comes to collect your soul, and doesn't want to give it back.
a/n - deku's a sweet boy, even when he's the grim reaper ok, he is. cw: for abuse, depression, bruises, broken bones, blood mention, smut, breeding without readers explicit consent, BUT deku is in love w u and is def gonna b a good dad, hurt to A TON of comfort/smut, deku's a touch monsterous, big boi!, lil horns, but mostly humanoid because im a coward.
for @natsuonii ‘s monsterfucker collab dont look at me, I’m late.
It’s not that he liked his job, Deku reminds himself as he feels the tugging towards another soul ready for departure, it’s that he feels a sense of duty. He was a shepherd, to most of the people he visited, death was a kindness, a release, and he was sure, already leaping over rooftops his tattered black cloak dragging behind him, that you would be no different. Like most people, you cower at his figure darkening the doorway, but oh you poor thing, you can barely move.
“Ohh,” he can’t help it, the sympathetic sound pouring from his lips, what a helpless little thing, “So many broken bones,” he muses, squatting beside you. You’re leaned up against the wall of an empty apartment, blood trickling down the side of your face. You let out a little breath, and at the ghost of his touch the pain dissipates. “I haven’t seen one this bad in a while,” he says, and you swallow, looking up at the dark figure.
He was tall, and broad, with a tangle of dark green curls that matched his glittering verdant irises, a smattering of freckles across his nose. He reaches a scarred hand out to you, and you take it, bursting into tears.
“I’m sorry,” you choke out, “I’m sorry you probably deal with this all the time.” Your voice is softer than he expects, little more than a teakettles whistle. He wraps his arms around you, folding your body into his warm chest.
“Actually,” He says, “Most people are angry.” The lump in your throat only grows as the hot tears spill down your face. “They want more time, another chance, and I can’t give it to them.”
“I-I-I’m ready to go,” you blubber, “I’m so t-tired, and everything hurts.” He rubs comforting patterns, into your back.
“Let’s take a second,” he says, looking down at the top of your head. “It’s alright no more pain where we’re headed.” You only cry harder.
“I never,” you sniff and look up at him, “I never had a chance.” He moves one of his hands higher, tangling it in your hair.
“Who did this to you?” He asks quietly, and you turn around to glance at your body but he catches your chin with a kind smile. “Better not.”
“W-we could go to my kitchen?” You hiccup and he nods.
“I can make you tea.”
“Death can make tea?” He nods, opening your cabinet and taking the little cardboard box down for you.
“I’m not death.” He clarifies. “I work for death.” He turns the stove on, filling a teapot with water and looking over his shoulder at you. “I asked who did this to you?”
“M-my boyfriend.” You mumble. “No matter how hard I t-tried, he was never happy with me, and when I tried to leave,”
“No,” Deku coos at you with surprise, as if he hadn’t heard this story a million times before, as if this was new information, “Sweetheart, that’s not love.” You nod slowly, your eyes burning with fresh tears and the need to comfort you overtakes him.
“No one else wanted me.” You sigh, rubbing your eyes. “I never had a chance at all.” Deku takes a mug down from your cabinet.
“You don’t have questions for me?” He looks over his shoulder at you and you shake your head. “You know it’s not true that no one else wanted you.” He says, sitting down next to you at your kitchen table. “You’re very beautiful, so I’m sure that’s not true.” You sniff.
“Thank you.” You say, and he reaches over and brushes some hair out of your face, his hands ghosting your skin then pulling away.
“Tell me what happened?” He murmurs, “I have time.” You swallow, and nod.
“He, he came home, and he was drunk.” Dekus eyes never leave yours while you’re speaking, “And he was upset, about, about something, maybe sports, maybe me, at first and then it was definitely me. He wanted me to have sex with him, and I didn’t want to.” Deku gets up, taking the kettle off the stove and pouring you a mug of green tea, setting it in front of you with a soft thump. You touch it, half expecting your hands to go through the ceramic, but they don’t.
“This isn’t your fault.” He says, joining you.
“You didn’t make yourself tea?” You ask, eyes widening a little.
“I don’t really, eat.” He explains. “You won’t either, when we leave.”
“Where are we going?” You ask, cupping the mug in your hands, it’s warm on your cool skin. He thinks about it.
“The next phase of existence, it’s different for everyone.” He stops himself, closing his eyes, “I’m, I’m sorry, you’re not,” he swallows, “You shouldn’t be, you shouldn’t be okay with this,” the pain is evident in his voice, “You should be fighting me, you should be kicking and screaming, you should be begging for a chance at revenge!” You take a long slow breath in, lower lip trembling.
“I know this isn’t what you meant,” You mumble, throat tight, “But what I heard was that I can’t even die correctly.” You bury your face in your hands. “Can we just, can we go, to whatever’s next?”
“No!” He says, scandalized. “No we can’t.” He takes your hand and pulls you out of your chair, “There had to be things that you always wanted to do?” You wipe one of your eyes. You’d had dreams once, maybe as a child, in those limited golden tinged memories, you’d had things you’d sworn to do before this, the most human of inevitabilities.
“I can’t think of anything.” You whisper, and he shakes his head.
“Sure you can, is there a place you thought of going?” You think about hard, at one of the jobs you’d had, at one point, your life was already blurring together, one of your co workers had a photo on their desk of a honeymoon.
“Um, I guess I wanted to see Venice?” He yanks you down the hallway, and out into the summer drizzle. “What the hell are you doing?” He doesn’t answer, pulling you up into the clouds, you’re not flying exactly, there’s hardly any movement, except the turn of the planet beneath him. “Hey,” you try to get his attention hanging from his forearm as you move higher into the sky. He holds his posture, but you dangle like a christmas ornament, “Hey,” you say again, louder, and with a soft grunt he lifts you, holding you to his chest while he flies, wrapping his cloak around your body. After a few seconds you’re flying over an ocean, moonlight sparkling on the dark waters, clinging to him, shivering in the cold.
“We’re obviously going to Venice,” He says, a touch of frustration to his voice. “I want you to see, something, something you can mourn, you need to. It’s human, it’s healthy.” You look up at him.
“Why are you so concerned?”
“It’s part of my job.” He says, “To guide humans. To take them the places they need to go. And I decided you and I go to Venice, now.” You wrap your arms around his neck, and feel his hands on your waist. As you touch down on the cobblestones, the moon is high, glittering on the canal. He leads you down the street, people don’t stop to look at you, you gather after he walks straight through a lampost, because they can’t see you. You’ve been walking for a few minutes, he doesn’t let go of your hand. You look down at it, his nails are varnished black, the fingers long and thick. Everything about him is big, you realize, even more so on the tiny Eurpean streets.
“Am I dreaming?” You wonder out loud, and he looks down at you.
“No.” He confirms. “Does this help, though, being here?” You sigh, shivering, the air is cool and wet. You swallow.
“I don’t know.”
“I could get you ice cream.” He says, a touch of desperation to his tone.
“I had a dream.” You say, so softly, he has to lean in to hear you at all. “I wanted him to love me.” You breath the last word, “I want him to to touch me softly, because,” you gesture around the piazza, remembering that it was the honeymoon in your co workers photo, and not the sinking city you’d longed for, “I wanted a real love.” Your lip trembles. “And I’m never going to get it.” The tears fall again. “No one ever touched me softly,” you look up and meet his eyes, his face is completely unreadable, “And I’ll never know, what that’s like.” You gesture weakly. “This is pretty but, when the people go, it’s just stone, and water, and spores.” You look at the lichen climbing up the side of the fountain. “And now I’m dead.” He swallows, and looks down at you.
“I’m not sure how to fix that.” he admits. “I don’t usually do this.”
“Take someone’s soul to Italy before you take them on?” You sniff, wiping your face. “I’m sorry I think, I just want it all to be over.” Deku presses his lips together and frowns before speaking again, a touch of childish desperation creeping into his voice.
“It’s just that, the little parts of being alive are so fascinating to me,” he giggles at the thought, “Did you know some humans, when they date, they take pictures of each other, and make it their little um, their phone screen?” You nod. “And I’ve seen,” he keeps chattering excitedly, I’ve seen them ah,” he stops himself, searching for the word, “Do this thing, where they’re lying down together, and they kinda fit their bodies into each other?”
“Spooning?” You offer, and he beams.
“IS that what it’s called?” He fidgets, and you can see his long dark nails, more like talons in the darkness.
“Um, I could, if you want I could show you, more of the things humans do when they’re in love?” He brightens, and when he smiles, the hood of his cloak falls off his head. In the dark moonlight, you can seek the skeleton underneath his skin, underneath the human glamour part of him.
“Oh, sorry.” he says, jerking the cloak over his head again, his ‘humanity’ restored. “I would, I would like that though.” He takes your hand. “Like, this, did I do this right, when I was comforting you, I’ve seen movies I-”
“This is fine.” You say, giving him a tiny encouraging smile that just cuts all the way through his chest. “But isn’t it better like this?” You carefully interlace your fingers with his. His hand is cold to the touch, but his face warms, a long breath escaping from his chest.
“Oh,” he says, “Yes it feels, so much closer?” You squeeze his hand, and he gets redder.
“You were good, ah, especially when you um,” You step into his personal space again and bury your face in his chest, he nods, understanding, cupping the back of your head in his free hand.
“Like this?” He asks, and you can feel the rumble of his voice from his chest.
“Yes,” you sigh, a little more warmth to the sound. “It helped.”
“What else,” he says, the desperation back in his voice, “Please I want, I want to understand better, for the people I guide.” You nod into him.
“You could lean down, and kiss the top of my head.” He follows your orders, his mouth lingering on your scalp, inhaling your scent. You smell like cigarette smoke, and vanilla perfume. “And I would do this,” You breathe, wrapping your free arm around his waist, and going to wrest your other hand from his but when you pull at it, his grip tightens, and an animalistic snarl rips from his chest. You jump, and gasp with fear but apologies are spilling from his lips immediately.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” he says, “I just, I guess, I’m feeling protective, I want to keep holding your hand, please, ah,” you look up at him, his face is so genuinely contrite it breaks your heart, “May I please keep holding it?”
“Ah, yes.” You say, and he smiles at you, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Can we keep walking?” You ask, and he nods. The two of you stroll through the streets of Venice at night, and the temperature drops considerably as the moon gets higher. You’re standing at the dock, looking out at the ocean, when you start genuinely trembling, and he speaks again, handsome face contorted with concern.
“Ah, are you cold?”
“Y-yes.” You choke out, still in only the tank top and pajama shorts you’d died in.
“I can um, I can give you my cloak, if you don’t mind that i’ll look less human.” He offers, and you shrug.
“I can’t imagine that after all that,” you remember your crumpled form, the black spots appearing on your vision as your boyfriend stumbled out of the room, so drunk he was blind to what he’d done, “That I looked human.”
“No, I suppose not so much.” he says, remembering a scene from a movie he’d watched on a day off, taking your chin in his hand roughly, then jumping back and releasing it, “Sorry, I wanted to touch you, but I, I did that wrong?” You nod quickly, and he looks sheepish, reaching back and touching his own neck. “Sorry.” He repeats.
“No it’s alright,” You say, taking his hands and arranging them on your face so that he’s cupping it, his thumbs resting on the top of your cheeks. “Like this.” He strokes your skin for a moment, lost in the high planes of your face reflecting in the moonlight, the only sound the water lapping the dock your standing on, the boats nudging each other. But then another shiver runs up your spine, and he practically rips off his cloak, draping it around your shoulders, bending down so that he can properly arrange it on your shoulders. In the bright silver moonlight, he stretches into a truer form. He’s a little hunched, and much closer to seven feet than six. There are two white bony horns peeking out of his green hair, and his canines are long and sharp in a distinctly inhuman way. In the direct moonlight, you can see right through his skin. But other than that, he’s built like a man, the largest man you’ve ever seen, but a man nonetheless.
“Wow,” you stammer, drawing his cloak around you. He laughs.
“You’re not afraid?” He asks, and your mind flashes to the fear you knew in your life, the way you’d come to jump at loud noises, the way just the scent of whiskey could send you into a tailspin, and you shake your head.
“I’ve seen worse.” You say softly, and he nods, understanding.
“Ah.” He offers you his hand, now with long talons at the end. You take it, and he carefully, painstakingly interlaces your fingers. “Can I,” he starts, and then you watch him stop himself, second guess, and then barrel forward, “Can I, what I mean, is that,” he pauses, struggling for the right words. “I would like to, to kiss you, if I can.” Your eyes widen.
“I mean, not if, not if you don’t-”
“No it’s just-”
“It’s totally okay,” he flashes his palms at you, “I get it if you-”
“I want to.” You cut him off again, and he looks at you, shock coloring his handsome features. “I just um,” you look around, “I know no one can see us, but I’d prefer if we could go somewhere um, private?” He nods, squeezing your hand.
“You have a place?” You ask, as he lifts you back up into the air, and you watch the moonlight glitter on the dark ocean.
“My shift’s been over for a bit.” He explains, a little guilt creeping into his expression. “We work for three weeks about, your time. You were my last job.”
“Oh.” Something twinges in your gut. “Can I ask you something?” You look down, Venice is tiny below you, nearly disappearing into the sea. “What ah, what are you?”
“I serve death.” He explains, lifting you easily so that you’re cradled against his chest, swaddled like a baby. “In all of their forms, as the raven queen, as the devil, as the moon, whatever form you’ve given them.” He shifts you a little so that your head is resting on his pectoral. “You might call me ah, a demon, I suppose, but that comes with such a negative connotation.”
“What should I call you, then?” He glances down at you, it’s incredible to him, how easy you’re taking this, how quickly you accepted death, how you don’t seem to be afraid of him, it feels, dreamlike.
“Call me Izuku.” He says, as you break through a huge white cloud. The world around you blurs and suddenly you’re not flowing up, but down, down towards a ground that looks like a rocky mountainside. “It’s a reflection,” he explains, seeing the look on your face, “Sometimes when you’re looking in the mirror and you see something behind you, you are seeing us.”
“Izuku,” you say, and oh god his given name on your lips is heavenly, so sweet and short, a cooing, breathy sound. His mouth goes dry as he lands on the dirt path, leading to the mouth of a cave. “Is this allowed, I don’t want you to get in trouble.” He stretches a little, setting you on the groundt, you’d have to go back, eventually, he thinks, but there was a way, a way to ensure you’d be his forever.
“They might notice, in a century, that you didn’t report to where you’re going.” He yawns. “But it’s so kind of you to care.” He leads you to the mouth of the cave, which has a huge nest of blankets and twigs, the occasional moss accent softening a corner. Flickering torches hang on the walls, creating long dancing shadows on the floor. He helps you into the nest, lifting your body up and over the lip of it so that you slide to the soft bottom, then leaping into it after you. It’s cozy, and much less fragile than it looks,
“I like this,” you breathe, startling even your self at how, right it feels to be here. He blushes a deep crimson.
“You like my nest?”
“It seems,” you shift your weight a little, “It seems sturdy.” Warmth spreads across his chest.
“Thank you.” You’re sitting cross legged on the blankets, with him kneeling in front of you. “Where do I um, how do I start?” he asks, and you take his huge hands guiding them so that one of them rests on your waist, and the other is cupping your cheek.
“Now press your lips to mine,” you say, eyes wide and kind, full of the most beautiful innocence - god he was going to - “Softly, at first.” You instruct, speaking the words almost into his mouth. “And you can use your hands to move me where you want me.” His hand on your waist tightens, digging into the softness of your skin there as he leans farther forward, experiencing the gentle ecstasy of closeness. Your body warm, so warm compared to him, he can’t help it, he wants more, using his leverage to push his tongue between your lips, pushing you down on your back so that he can feel every curve, every contour of you against him. It’s been so long, he works so hard, and there’s so many intricacies to your anatomy, so many place he can press his lips to make more music spill from your mouth. Where he’s hard, and cold, you’re plush and warm, and little gasp you make when he accidentally grazes his teeth against your lower lip practically sets him on fire, a low growl ripping from his chest. You tug on his hair, guiding him from your mouth to the crook of your neck, pulling another hiccuping gasp from your lips.
“I-izuku,” you choke out, it feels good, his tongue long and rough on your skin, but, “It’s o-okay, you can touch me,” another sound rumbles from him, somehow even more feral, as both of his hands move up to palm at your chest, rutting his hips desperately against yours.
“Want you, gotta get your ready for me,” he growls, “Please, fuck, I need-”
“It’s okay,” you breathe, “I want you, I want you, I can handle it.” He pulls off of you, face flushed, heart racing, as he rips your pajama shorts off of you and dives between your legs. It’s like he’s sucked the air from your lungs, bright lights exploding behind your eyes as he presses his nose against your clit and slides his tongue into your core. “Mmmmm,” He groans, rolling his hips against the ground, roughly taking your thighs in a bruising grip as you writhe with pleasure.
“‘Zuku,” you choke out, as he laps at you greedily, “Feels, feels so good.” He growls into your warmth again, pressing himself deeper into you. You tangle your fingers in his hair, guiding his movements against you, he lets you set the rhythm but any time you try and squirm away from him, any time the pleasure becomes too much, he locks his arms around you tighter. You meet his gaze, narrowed and intense.
“Mine,” he says, before slipping a finger inside of you. You keen at that alone, the possessive undercurrent to his voice making your face hot and mouth dry. “Mine,” he says again, knuckle deep inside you, pressing against your velvet walls as you gasp and mewl. “Say it.” He demands, his demeanor completely different. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m,” you swallow, he curls his one finger inside of you and your back is practically forced into an arch, pleasure building, the hot coil in your stomach growing tighter. “I’m yours, I’m yours, Izuku,” you cry out over the lewd squelch of his finger inside you. He adds a second one, scissoring them inside you, and he marvels at the way it sends a shudder throughout your entire body, you just can’t stay still for him, even yelping when he sinks his teeth into the soft skin at your hips, delighting in the way you’ve completely come undone at his touch. He can feel his cock straining against his pants, with every wanton moan that escapes your lips, it gets harder, desperate for some kind of friction, to replace his fingers in your warm, wet, cunt.
“Fuck,” you choke out, looking at him again, soft eyes glistening with tears, and somewhere inside of him, a damn breaks. With a feral grunt, he takes you roughly by the waist and lifts you in the air, flopping on his back as he positions you above his crotch, watching your eyes widen with fear as he pulls his length out from his pants. He’s huge underneath you, shoulders wide and flat, his shirt sticking to his sweaty abdomen. You reach for it, tugging it over his head and leaning back, bracing your hands against his hips, raking your eyes down his scarred muscle.
“C’mon,” he growls, “C’mon baby, take it, you can do it.” You swallow, mouth completely dry as you sink down, your walls stretching taking even the head of him. “That’s it,” he says, dark eyes glittering, as you let out a soft whine.
“S-so big, ‘Zuku,” you mumble, closing your eyes as you feel a light slap on your thigh,
“Eyes on me,” He says, “Focus on me,” You lower your hips a little more, your mouth dropping open as the stretch starts with a sharp pain that melts into pleasure. He sits up a little, taking your thighs in his hands, kneading at them before pressing another kiss to your lips. “Take it baby,” he says, as you keep sinking lower, your eyes completely losing focus as your soft walls flutter around him.
“Ah,” you moan, biting down on your lower lip, you’re still only about halfway. It’s not just that it’s the longest cock you’ve ever seen, it’s wide and pink, and there’s so much space between your hips and that tuft of green hair at his hilt.
“Look at me,” He says again, authority seeping into his tone, and you obey, shivering with pleasure, “Look at me,” you nod, “You’re gonna take my cock, angel, alright, like a good girl, and then I’m gonna make you feel so good no one else is ever gonna matter,” you nod, and keep going, ignoring the stretch, tuning everything out but his loud groans.
“‘Z-zuku,” you mumble, trying not to break eye contact with him.
“No one else,” he says, his voice dark, his eyes narrow and possessive, “‘M gonna ruin you for anyone else.” You roll your hips a little as you finally, finally take all of him, settling down on top of him as you feel every inch, every vein, pulsing, so hot inside you.
“So f-full,” you breathe, reaching for him and instinctively, he holds your hand, just like you taught him.
“What a good girl,” he coos, and watches you preen at the praise, squeezing your hand, “Ready for me to move, baby, ‘m gonna fuck you so good baby,” You whimper, and he sits up eyes wide with concern. “Is it too much I-”
“I want you to kiss me,” you mumble, embarrassed at your desire for intimacy, but he beams at you before crashing his lips against yours at the same time as he thrusts his length inside you, letting you moan into his open mouth, not letting go of your hand as he slowly begins moving inside you. You collapse into his chest and he takes it in stride, burying his face in your neck, biting down on your soft flesh, as the pleasure overtakes him.
“So good,” he chokes out, moving you up and down his cock, feeling your walls flutter and squish around him, “Such a good girl, baby,” he breathes, “F-fuck, takin’ all of me, so good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he snarls the last word, slamming into you hard, eliciting a sharp keen from your lips. He can’t tear his eyes away from the way you’re stretching to accommodate him, watching his cock disappear between your soaking folds, groaning loudly at the way you squeeze around him.
“More,” you beg, holding his hand more tightly, “More please, ‘Zuku, I can take it.”
“Fuck yes you can,” He breathes, picking up the pace, fucking you harder, letting you completely relax against his chest as he thrusts upward into you, watching your chest bounce with every roll of his hips, lifting your head up so that he can kiss you sloppilly again as he feels himself scrape against your walls. “Fuck yes,” he repeats, speaking into your mouth, refusing to let go of your hand,
“Can I,” you stop speaking as a particularly hard snap of his hips against your sucks the wind from your lungs, “Can I cum?” He blinks up at you, the idea of it registering, and then whatever self control he’d been holding on to dissipates. He flips you on your back without pulling out, and holds both of your hands next to your head as he fucks you into oblivion.
“Cum for me,” He snarls, “I want it, I wanna feel you cum on my cock, baby come on,” you writhe underneath him, completely lost in the sensation the coil in your stomach hot and tight, you’re teetering on the edge of your high as he leans down and speaks in your ear, his breath on your neck, “I said,” he growls, voice completely different, dark and threatening, “Cum for me.” It’s like you’ve been shoved off a cliff, you clench down on him hard, losing complete control of your limbs and your mind, babbling praise as he carries you through your orgasm. He chases his own high, thrusts sporadic, in time with short low grunts, as he explodes inside of you, staying hard with the single minded thought of getting his cum as deep within your cunt as possible, of marking your womb and your body as his.
“Mine,” he says, over and over as he watches you unravel, your tongue lolling as your orgasm rips through your body, noticing the marks he’d littered on your neck and chest, the bite marks and bruises making him somehow even harder. It’s a few minutes, before he finally stops cumming, collapsing on top of you, still not releasing your hand. He crushes you against his chest, wrapping himself in blankets as you come down, finally pulling out of your pussy with a soft groan.
“Izuku,” you breathe, still barely present. “Izuku, am I,” you swallow, “Is this, ah,” you pause, catching your breath but he presses a single finger to your lips.
“Shhh,” he breathes, “You’re mine, baby, all mine, nothing bad, is ever going to happen to you, ever again.” You lift your head sleepily.
“Mine.” He confirms, and feels you relax against him. He watches you drift off to sleep, stroking your hair, peppering your face with kisses, whispering praise. After all, his hands brush your stomach, if his son wasn’t growing inside of you by now, he’d just have to try harder next time.
“I’m not asking your permission,” he says quietly, nestling you in his lap, “But just so you know, I’m going to kill your boyfriend.” You blink up at him, brain still operating at 1%.
“Really?” You breathe, eventually, and he nods.
“Yeah.” He presses his lips to your forehead. “I’m gonna take such good care of you.” You snuggle against him, sleepy, fucked out, in a demon's nest, about to fall asleep against his chest when he speaks again. “And you’re gonna give me the sweetest babies,” he coos, and your blood turns to ice,
“What?” You ask, suddenly wide awake, staring up at him. He just nods.
“I don’t know much about romance,” he says, with a sheepish shrug, “But I do know you’re gonna be so beautiful,” you feel his lips on your neck, “Carrying my sons.” You swallow.
“Y-you’ll help me, right?” He pulls away from you, scandalized.
“Of course!” His eyes widen. “Of course I will.” You close your eyes, putting the cold darkness of your human life behind you, wrapping your arms around your demon's neck.
“Alright, then,” you wrap your legs around his body. “I’ll be yours, Izuku.” He pets your head, “Can we sleep?” He pulls you down into his pile of blankets, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, nestling you against his chest, and the only sound in the cave is his soft, even breath, and the crackling of the flames of the torches affixed to the wall. “Oh wait,” you sit up, and his heart breaks into a sprint, he could stop you from leaving, from running but he’s not sure he can handle the idea of being rejected by you, the very thought makes him want to rake his hands across his own skin, drawing blood-
“We could spoon, um, if you want?” There’s a moment, where he processes what you’re offering, his mind slowing down from the breakneck pace, his thoughts quieting. You motion for him to lie down on his side and then you snuggle in behind him. He smells like sweat and cedar, you run your fingers over his deep scars, as a shiver runs up his spine. You hook your arms under his, pressing your chest against his back. “Do you feel safe?” You ask in the tiniest, sweetest voice, his heart shatters, shards of it lodging in his lungs, making breathing painful, his hands ache for you, but he answers simply, voice a soft warble in the cool of the night.
“No one’s ever touched me softly, either.” You bury your face in his neck.
“Hmm,” you sigh sleepily, he can feel the vibrations of the sound building and releasing in your chest, rubbing a circle into his upper arms. “I’ll teach you.” He swallows, nodding, and his next thought hits him like a train. God, was he going to make your boyfriend fucking suffer.
1K notes · View notes
Sooo... This request thing. You're aweosme 👉👈
Ooh boy it's a long one (changed it a bit)
-Erens so cute when he purrs and when you mention his curiosity and twitching ears ears and gentle touch, so as not to hurt the reader.
-when he kinda is paying attention to, analysing the reader or protecting them its SO cute
-It would maybe end as like cuddles and things and just... Talking. To him and him grunting or just nodding or thinking replies.
-Maybe be at night.
-Maybe it would start with... Eren In human form.
-Maybe he figures out that you don't think his titan form is so ugly but still a little new and scary and that maybe you like it
- Bam if you can somehow NSFW that... Uhmm?
So he... Turns into a titan and then. Some NSFW or just. Maybe he like. Scares or teases the reader on purpose for a reaction?
-And then NSFW somehow if you wanna put that in. Sorry for the way I type I'm kinda doing it as it all appears in my head lol
-I like your cute, and desperate eren, but also attentive and caring. I haven't seen you write a very cheeky or playful titan eren so maybe that would be nice.
I REALLY ENJOYED WRITING THIS ONE. Here you monsterfuckers, take your TITAN SMUT.
WARNINGS: MONSTERFUCKING. Oral (f receiving), mention of voyeurism, overstimulation, dumbification, multiple orgasms, edging, characters are 18+.
If these themes make you uncomfortable or you rather avoid, please block the tag “AOT SMUT”
Also thank you to the amazing @galair for this beautiful art🥺 everyone go check her out
Eren stays deep within his thoughts as he hums to himself, staring up at the starry sky. His loose strands tickle the shell of his ear, itching to scratch away at it but refuses. He can’t recall the conversation before the silence. It’s always been on his mind, but he’s been inquisitive as to what you saw him as, even if he knew the answer.
Am I a monster to you? Or am I just like you?
You knew Eren was quite insecure with himself when it came to his titan powers; no matter how many times he asked you that, you always gave him the same answer.
You were never a monster; you’re just a broken human like me.
For some reason, that has never failed to put a smile on his face. Being able to categorize himself with humans made him feel complete, separate from the monster people used to call him when he discovered the powers.
But know that he’s aware (once again) of how you feel, does he scare you?
Maybe he could ask you--, but he doesn’t want to ruin the mood at all. Now that he thinks of it, he can’t recollect a moment where you’ve seemed scared to be in his presence, unlike other comrades who look like they’ll leak themselves any moment.
Without even thinking, he blurts out the question. His eyes widen slightly when he realizes the words slipped past his lips.
“Am I scared of your titan form?” you ask, glancing over at him as you sit up, staring down at him from your position. “I mean, it is always somewhat overwhelming to see something so much bigger than me, and when I sit in your hands but no, besides that, I'm not.”
“Do you think it’s ugly?”
“I don’t,” you say with a smile, legs crisscrossed. “I think it’s unique. You know, just for you. I think it’s quite cute and--” you trail off, glancing over to the side. “--somewhat hot,” you cough in between words, hoping he missed that.
“Hot?” he asks, a hint of smugness evident in his tone.” You think it’s hot?” he leans up on his elbows, a smirk curled at his lips. “Why is that?”
“W-Well, I’m not going to tell you that! That’s too personal.”
“What if I turned right now?”
“Y-You can’t! Captain Levi and Hanji would come to chew you out if you did!”
“Hanji gave me the go-ahead to transform whenever I wanted to, just not to cause destruction,” he gets up with a grunt, backing up a few feet back. By the time he was in position before you could speak, lightning struck the earth, the ground crumbling from the shock.
You dug your fingers into the ground, lowering your head from the gusts of wind. In no time, it calmed down as you avert your gaze upward, emeralds stare down at you from high above, brown tresses swooshing in the air.
“You did,” you breathed out, releasing your grip on the dirt. Your hands are unsteady, still trying to compose yourself from the sudden change.
He’s not moving, standing as still as a statue before he drops to his knees, the birds sound asleep in the trees now awake and flying away from the commotion. Your heart feels as if it could burst from the confinements of your chest.
Your left eye peeks open, cowering within yourself. Your body freezes when you see how close he is. His body is lowered to the ground; knees pushed in like a Sphinx. His eyes glow in the darkness, a new feeling taking over your body.
His heavy breathing fans over your face, his head cocked to the side as if he was examining your small figure. He finds humor in your expression, nudging your body with his nose.
From the small force added, it caused your body to get pushed back. His ears twitch, the tips sticking upward. He moves forward, doing it once more.
“Eren, quit it,” you huff, sticking your arms out to keep him from doing it again-- which he’ll end up doing too. There’s no doubt that in that nape, he’s having the time of his life.
He wonders what else he can do like this. He thinks for a minute, noises emitting from his throat. He sticks one of his hands out, shakily raising a finger, and places his hands in between your legs.
He catches your gaze, his tongue peeking as he leans forward, barely pressing the tip against the bare skin of your neck. The new sensation causes your breath to hitch in the back of your throat, eyeing the pink flesh before gulping lowly.
Eren pulls away, looking at your skirt that happened to ride up your legs. His eyes seem to darken as his mouth closes, teeth grinding against each other.
“Eren?” you question him as he inches closer, his head lowering slightly to the ground. You’re about to call for him again, but his tongue makes an appearance also, pushing the material up more. Your eyes enlarge, fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt-- to which looks like fear in his eyes.
A noise of somewhat sadness comes from him, his ears lowering.
“N-No, it’s okay, Eren,” you stutter, face heating up from his motions. If you were honest, you could feel a small wetness pool in between your legs.
Before you know it, the tip of his tongue is in between your legs, the muscle lapping over your clothed cunt. Your arms are shaky as you let out a little gasp that sounds so cute to his ears; he can’t help but circle it around your clit.
A predatory look is in his eyes, looking down like you were his meal. The muscle goes sound, poking at your slicked entrance. Panting, you glance down at the position and pull your panties aside, shivering from the chilly wind and hot breathing in between your legs.
His jaw slacked; he works wonders on your needy cunt. The texture and saliva are enough to make you sensitive on the spot. Your eyes roll back as you chant his name, his tongue licking stripes up and down your folds, squelching noises occurring from his rapid movement.
Your legs are shaking from the overwhelming sensation. God, it’s becoming too much, but you can’t stop him, nor if you wanted to. You felt as if you would fall to the depths of the earth but yet stayed in reality.
The tip flicks at your folds, an incoherent noise getting stuck in the back of your throat when he begins to move it side to side rather than up and down.
You’re so needy for him at this point. You want him to stuff your tight cunt with his cock, to feel him stretch you out as he fucks you to no end. Having him do this to you was on another level of ecstasy, but you would accept it if this came up again.
The pressure he puts on your fragile body is enough to send you backward, but the way your heels dig into the ground and his gentle touches prevent that from happening. The slick left in between your thighs trickle down to your ass; the feeling becomes uncomfortable but erotic.
“Fuck baby,” you whisper, head falling back, staring up at the sky with lidded eyes. “Fuu..p-please don’t stop,” you slur, thoughts clouding with nothing but immense pleasure.
God, what if someone caught you? The adrenaline running through your body wouldn’t even let you care about that. But the thought of someone hearing you moan out pathetically as Eren licks away at your cunt, have you moaning out.
You wouldn’t be surprised if someone overheard. Eren’s tongue was a gift that meant to be cherished, even if that meant having him do this every day for you to get used to the sticky yet warmth radiating from the muscle.
The inside of your legs trembles, your head spinning in circles, rubbing small lazy circles on your puffy clit, desperate to be touched by his tongue. Your hole was being circled, his tongue barely pressing before retracting; the little shit was teasing you.
One of his fingers gently places over your leg to keep you from moving so much. His finger alone is enough to make you feel weighed down.
Your lips are moving, but nothing is coming out; no noise, no words. You’re completely out of it. Your fingers are clenching and unclenching around nothing, barely holding onto whatever it was you were. If someone were to ask you what day it was, you wouldn’t be able to tell the time of day or where you were at.
“ ‘M gonna cum,” your voice comes out soft yet needy, shifting your hips side to side, bucking your hips to the best of your ability. “I wanna cum on your tongue.”
His eyes flicker, a stripe licked up between your folds before resting on your clit-- a place that desperately needs attention.
Your delicate body is on the brink of defeat; an orgasm after orgasm washes over your body, and he shows no signs of stopping. You’re practically gushing at this point, your juices running down his jaw. You’ve made many feeble attempts to push him away; a growl would emit from him when you tried to do so.
Sweat trickles down your face into your clothes, causing the front of your shirt to stick onto your skin—short breaths of air, hiccups erupting from your throat. Your eyes roll back as your body finally gives out, falling backward onto his hand that was keeping you upright.
As you fall, a purring sound reaches your ears as his tongue finally retracts from your mess cunt, his eyes glancing at your slick sticking to you. His finger rubs the inside of your thigh, gently wiping away the transparent substance. His ears flicker as he listens to your heavy breathing, trying your best to catch the air that was taken away from you.
He lovingly nuzzles his nose against your patella, his dark tresses tickling your supple skin. After being pushed through multiple orgasms, you weren’t even sure if you could walk or get up from this position.
But he finally got his answer as to why you thought he was hot.
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