synopsis—toji comes home after a night out drinking with shiu. the alcohol pulsing within him has him more horny and sensitive than normal.
cw: oral (masc receiving), ass slapping, bean rubbing, cum, cum , and cum, male moaning, cum in throat, fingering, alcohol, intoxication, more cum, cum, and cum. (not proofread, shorter smut)
toji had one goal as he stepped into the small-shared apartment: find you. drunkenly stumbling through the halls, he pushed open the bedroom door to find your sleeping silhouette curled up. toji’s hand stroked your hair in an attempt to wake you. when you didn’t budge, he tried verbally. “fucking hell, wake up, baby” his words fell upon deaf ears—you turned in your sleep, and toji to let out a small groan.
his hand slid to your shoulder, slowly shaking you. your unfocused eyes slowly blinked open, darting around before finally settling on the dark shadow in front of you. “toji? it’s—“ your voice was hoarse with sleep as you glanced at the bedside alarm clock. “a little after midnight…what’re you doing home this late?”
toji didn’t answer right away. instead, he clumsily dragged his shirt over his head, before pulling off his sweats. “went out…drinking with shiu.” his words were slurred and jumbled together. “couldn’t get you off of my mind“ the last part was the most incoherent.
“m’ cant even understand a word you’re saying” you sat upward, running your hands through your messy-bed hair, before crossing your arms. pure exhaustion covered your features, you had to blink your eyes open nearly every second in order for you to stay awake. “baby, i’m throbbing. m’ need you to suck it, or even stroke it with your hands.”
you blinked at him, trying to process it all—watching as his shadow moved around the bed, settling next to you. “why’re you coming home with a fucking hard-on?” your tone was accusatory and you heard toji let out a small chuckle.
“baby, just the thought of you gets me fucking hard.” once again, the words were barely coherent, but when your brain puzzled them together, heat began pool between your legs, you let out a deep sigh. placing your hands onto toji’s torso, you felt his abs become tense from your touch.
his breathing rose quickly as your hand inched lower, slipping underneath his boxers—you gripped him tightly. somehow it turned you on even more feeling his smooth, hard cock in your hands. your thumb swiped over his tip and you could feel warm pre-cum smear across it.
toji slipped his boxers down to his knees and you moved to be on all fours, one of your hands stroked him while the other rested on his thigh. you flinched slightly as you felt his hands caress the hearty flesh of your ass, even squeezing it a little. giving his dripping tip a few soft licks, you placed him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks in the process.
your hands stroked what you couldn’t fit into your mouth, while toji’s hand still rubbed your ass—even slipping beneath your gown and rubbing at your clothed pussy. alternating between his thumb motioning in circles or up and down on your clit. the feeling of your slickness through your cotton panties made him feel like he could burst any moment. he hated drunk sex for that very reason—just touching you could make him finish.
toji is unusually quiet, usually he’ll say things to praise or tease you, but nothing. moving your eyes to look upward, you realize the moonlight illuminated some of his features. his eyes were narrowed and teeth catching his bottom lip. it’s as if he’s holding back verbally.
taking him fully out of your mouth, your tongue slowly licked from underside of his tip to the slit—one hand still stroked him. the hard slap on your ass showed he wasn’t happy with your teasing, his palm rubbed the surface to soothe the pain of the slap, before moving to pull your panties to the side—rubbing at your bare slick folds.
continuing your oral pleasure, the room was filled with “gluck-gluck-gluck” each second. you took him as deeply as you could and toji began shifting his legs—his toes curled ever so slightly. the feeling of his fingers slipping into you made you moan around him—feeling the vibrations elicited a gruntled moan from him.
his large fingers quickly pumped in and out of you—hitting your g-spot with each thrust. his cock in your mouth muffled the scream as you met your high— for the first time ever, the sound of repeated moans caught your attention. “ngh—baby, feels so goddamn good, about to—fuck!” the alcohol pulsing through his veins had him even more sensitive to your touch. before you could even process it—warms spurts of salty seed filled your mouth.
toji’s thighs trembled and he shakily removed his fingers from you, you also removed yourself from him. once the thought of toji being a fucking writhing mess finally settled in, you bit your lip in an attempt to not laugh. toji stilled before rolling his eyes.
“don’t ever try bringing this up…in any way.”
pls don’t shoot me but i still haven’t finished the sukuna one due to a creative block. this story was quickly written today and wasn’t really proofread.
✮ SEX EDUCATION: where your hot professor teaches you how to cum!
⋆ LESSON 1: GUIDANCE ON HOW TO TOUCH YOURSELF
you're on his lap, your back is pressed against his chest, your legs draped over his. "wider, baby." you spread, your skirt is bunched around your waist. your soaked panties are already on his desk. he made you take them off the moment you walked in, holding them up to the light and tsking at the wet spot.
"there," he says, satisfied. "now i can see everything." his hands grip the soft skin behind your knees and push your legs even further apart. you're completely open, completely exposed, your bare pussy on full display, glistening in the lamplight. you can feel the wetness pooling beneath you, soaking into his trousers, into his chair. "fuck, look at you. you're already dripping, good girl." you whimper and try to close your legs, but his grip tightens. "ah-ah. keep them open. this is a lesson, remember? you need to watch. you need to learn."
you force yourself to stay still, your pussy throbbing under his gaze. "touch yourself." you hesitate. your hand hovers over your own body, trembling. "i said touch yourself, baby. two fingers. start with your folds. feel how wet my good girl is." your hand moves. your fingers slide through your wetness, and the sensation makes you gasp. you're so wet that your fingers glide effortlessly, your own arousal coating them. "that's it. feel how wet you are? you've been thinking about it, haven't you, baby?" "yes," you whisper. "every night?" "yes, professor." "tell me what you did." "i—" your fingers are moving in slow circles around your clit now, and it's hard to think. "i touched myself. in bed. thinking about you." "good girl. show me how."
your middle finger sliding down to circle your entrance, then back up to your clit. "mmnh..." your hips buck against your own hand. "faster, baby."
you speed up. the wet sounds fill the room, your head falls back against his shoulder, and you feel his breath against your ear. "now two fingers inside, good girl. fill that pretty pussy for me." you slide them in, and the stretch makes you gasp. your walls clench around your own fingers, but it's not enough. it's never enough. you can feel how tight you are, how desperate. "that's it. fuck yourself on your fingers. imagine it's my cock, baby. imagine it's me splitting you open." "ah— ah— hnnggh! professor—" "look at you," he murmurs. "so desperate. such a good student, fucking herself on her own fingers. you'd take my cock just like that, wouldn't you? all desperate and whimpering." "yes! yes!" you're fucking yourself faster now, your hips lifting to meet your own hand. "that's my good girl, play with your clit now. use your thumb. circle it." your thumb finds your clit, and the it makes you cry out. you're so sensitive, so swollen, every touch sending sparks through your body.
"ah—hah! professor! i'm— i'm close—" "good. cum for me, baby. cum on your fingers like the good pretty girl you are." but something stops you, you're right there, teetering on the edge. your fingers pump desperately, your thumb rubs frantically, but you just can't. "i— i can't— nnghhh! " your voice breaks. "i can't without you, professor. please. please, i need your fingers. i need you."
his grip on your legs tightens so hard it might bruise. you can feel how hard he is against your lower back, his cock pressing into your spine. "if i touch you, baby, it's no longer for education. do you understand that? if i put my fingers inside this tight little pussy, it's because i want to. not because i'm teaching you. do you really want that?" "yes," you sob. "yes, i want that. i don't care. please! i don't care about the lesson... hah! i just want you—"
"say it again." "i want you to touch me. i want your fingers inside me. please, professor, please— i need you—" "that's all i needed to hear, babygirl." his fingers slide into you over yours. two of them — thick, massive. he pushes past your fingers, deeper, and the stretch is blinding. you scream, but his other hand clamps over your mouth, muffling it.
"shh, shh," he breathes in your ear, but he doesn't stop. his fingers move inside you with yours, fucking you open. "take it. take it all, baby." "mmmnnnghh! hir— nnnghh!" "that's it. feel how thick i am? feel how your pussy stretches around me? this is what you've been begging for, good girl." his fingers are so much bigger than yours. they fill you completely, pressing against your walls, curling exactly where you need them. and then his thumb finds your clit, presses down, circles. "fuck— ah!.. haaah— professor!"
your legs kick, but he holds them wide, keeps you open, keeps you taking it. you're sobbing against his hand, drool running down your chin, completely destroyed. "that's it. that's my good girl. you're going to cum on my fingers now. you're going to soak my hand, baby. say thank you." "th— thank you—" "louder." "thank you, sir!—"
your orgasm rips through you, your back arches, your head falls back against his shoulder, and you cum hard, your walls clenching around his fingers, your own fingers, everything. your vision whites out. a long, guttural moan tears from your throat as he works you through it, his thumb still circling your clit, his fingers still pumping, never stopping.
"fuck," he mutters, watching you fall apart. "that's it. that's it. good fucking girl. look at you cumming all over my hand. such a pretty sight." when you finally come down, you're shaking. your hand falls away, when he slowly withdraws his fingers, shiny with your cum, and brings them to his mouth. he sucks them clean, one by one, eyes never leaving yours. the sight makes your pussy clench again. "you're a fast learner, babygirl."
⋆ LESSON 2: LET HIM DROWN IN YOU!
his desk is cold against your bare ass. he's cleared it — pushed aside stacks of papers, a laptop, a mug of pens, some students' project folders — and lifted you onto it like you weigh nothing. your legs are spread wide, your heels resting on the edge, your pussy fully exposed and dripping, the papers beneath you are getting wet, but neither of you gives a single fuck.
"you asked me how this would help you learn," he says, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you even wider. "the truth is, baby, it doesn't." you blink. "what?" "i just want to eat this pretty pussy. i've been thinking about it since the first time you sat on my lap. that sweet little cunt grinding on my thigh. i need to taste it."
"then—" "you need to know what a good eating out feels like. so you know what to expect." he grins against your inner thigh. "but mostly because i can't stop thinking about your taste." and then his mouth is on you. he doesn't start slow. he dives in, tongue flat against your entire pussy, licking from your entrance to your clit in one long, wet stroke. you cry out, your hands flying to his hair. "ah! fuckfuckk! professor!"
"mmmnh— fuck—" he hums against you, and the vibration makes your hips buck. his tongue circles your clit, flicks it, sucks it into his mouth. he pulls back just enough to spit on your pussy — a wet, obscene glob that slides down your folds — and then he's back, spreading it with his tongue, mixing his spit with your wetness.
"that's it. taste so fucking good, baby. sweet, wet and perfect. this is what a good pussy tastes like. remember that." "nnngh!— ah— hnnggh—hiro—" his fingers spread your folds open, and he dives deeper, his tongue pushing inside you. you feel it fucking you, curling, tasting your walls, and you're already so close, your thighs trembling around his head. "cum for me, baby," he says against your clit. "first one. give it to me." "i— i—" "cum. now."
his tongue flicks your clit fast, hard, and you cum with a scream, your back arching off the desk. he doesn't stop. he licks through it, groaning against your sensitive pussy drinking everything you give him. "mmmngh— yes. there we go, good girl. that's one."
your legs are shaking, you think it's over. well, it's not. he goes back in, sucking your clit between his lips, rubbing it with the flat of his tongue. his fingers slide inside you, curling, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. "i can't! — another one— it's too haah! much—" "you can, pretty girl and you will. look at this pussy. she's not done yet."
his mouth descends again, and this time he's rougher. he presses his face hard into your pussy, his nose grinding against your clit, his tongue fucking you deep. he talks to it, low and breathless, his lips brushing against your folds. "such a pretty pussy. so wet for me, baby. you love this, don't you? having your professor on his knees eating you out in his office while others' works get ruined under your wet ass. you love it."
"yes! i love it! oh my go—i love it! professor—" "tell my pussy you love it." "i love it! i love my pussy— i love your mouth on it—" "then cum again, good girl." he pinches your clit between his teeth — just enough pressure, and the second orgasm rips through you. your legs clamp around his head, but he doesn't move. he stays buried in your cunt, lapping at you, groaning against you. "mmmngh. mmnh—" until you're twitching and oversensitive, sobbing from the intensity.
when you finally go limp, he looks up at you. his face is destroyed — wet, shiny, your cum dripping from his chin, his lips, his nose, his eyebrows. he doesn't wipe it off. "one more, baby."
⋆ LESSON 3: GET ABSOLUTELY POUNDED BY HIS BIG COCK
he points to his desk — the lower one, where his teaching assistant usually sits, covered in student papers. "on all fours." you don't hesitate. your palms hit the wood, your spine arches, your ass pushes back toward him, grinding in the air. you're wearing a dress tonight — short, thin, no panties, and you know he can see everything. your pussy is already dripping, your arousal slicking your thighs.
"look at you," he breathes. "soaking wet and i haven't even touched you yet." "please," you whimper. "please, professor, i can't wait anymore! i need you—" "you'll wait until i say you're ready, good girl." he drops to his knees behind you. his hands spread your cheeks apart, and you feel his breath on your cunt, hot and damp. "i've already made you cum twice tonight, remember? on my tongue, on my fingers. so this won't hurt, baby. i made sure you're ready."
"yes— yes—" but his mouth isn't finished. he leans in, licks a long stripe up your slit, and you moan, your arms nearly buckling. "for luck." "professor— i can't! mmnh! i've already—" "shut up and take it." his tongue slides inside you just to try it again. "good girl," he says, standing up. "now you're ready."
he unbuckles his belt, the sound of the metal jingling makes your pussy clench. his trousers drop just enough to free his cock — thick, hard, leaking, the head glistening with pre-cum. he strokes himself, and you watch him over your shoulder, drooling, your mouth open.
"tell me what you want, baby." "i want your cock, professor. please. inside me." "how badly, pretty girl?" "so badly i can't think. i can't breathe. please— i've been so good— i've learned everything— please just fuck me—" he steps forward. the head of his cock presses against your entrance, and you push back, trying to take him, but he holds your hips still.
"slow, baby or it'll hurt. i'm big and you're tight. breathe." "nnnngh... please—" he pushes in, just the head. you scream, but it's late, the building is empty, no one can hear you. he's so big — bigger than you imagined, bigger than his fingers, and the stretch is blinding, burning, perfect.
"breathe, baby. breathe for me." you gasp and he pushes deeper. "ah! mmnghh!!— fuck! professor!" "that's it. taking it. taking all of this cock. such a good fucking girl." he slides in to the hilt, and you feel like you're being ripped apart. his balls press against your clit, and he's so deep inside you that your walls clench around him, trying to adjust to his size.
"look at you," he groans. "taking my whole cock. this tight little pussy was made for me, babygirl." "move— please— move—" and he does. at first he's gentle — slow, deep thrusts that let you feel every inch. his hands grip your hips, guiding you, teaching you. you can feel every ridge of his cock, every vein.
"rock back into me, baby. meet my thrusts. that's it. feel how good it is when you move together." "harder, please! haah! harder!" "yeah? you want me to fuck this sweet pussy proper?" "yes, please!" he slams into you. hard. the desk screeches against the floor. papers scatter. a lamp wobbles and falls. "fuckkkfuck! hiromi!" "that's it— that's my good little slut— take this cock."
his hips pound into you, his balls slapping against your clit. he reaches around, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles. your legs give out, but he holds you up, one arm around your waist, still fucking you, never stopping. "i'm gonna! gonna cum nngh! wanna—" "not yet."
he pulls you up against his chest. his cock stays buried in you, and now he's fucking you from behind, upright, one hand on your hip, one hand on your throat, squeezing just slightly. "you feel that? that's what a real cock feels like, baby. that's what you've been begging for all these weeks." "yes yes! mmmhnah! thank you, thank you professor!" "thank me by cumming. cum on my cock. soak it."
he slams into you, and his fingers work your clit, your head falls back against his shoulder, making you cum with a scream that echoes through the empty building — "ahhh— fuckkk, yesyes, so good! "fuccck, yes— cum for me— cum on my cock." your walls clench around him, and he groans. "nnnnggh— fuckkk— baby mmmnhh— gonna cum, where do you want it?"
"i'm on the pill," you gasp. "cum inside me, professor. please. please, i want to feel it." "yeah? you want me to fill this tight little pussy? you want to walk around campus tomorrow feeling my cum dripping out of you, baby?" "yes! haahhh! pleasepleaseplease!" "gonna! i'm gonna— fuck—"
he slams into you one last time. his cock pulses, and you feel it — hot, thick, flooding you. he groans your name and you feel him twitch inside you as he fills you, his cum spilling deep into your cunt. "fucckkk that's my baby, mmhnh... sweetest pussy, all mine." when he's done, he doesn't pull out. he stays inside you, his forehead resting on your shoulder, both of you breathing hard, sweat-slicked and shaking. lessons completed.
more? ──── art cr. @ yunonoai on x sparkle cr: @kthice
☆. neighbour toji! can’t stop thinking about that puss !
cw: perv neighbour toji, creampie. mdni 18+
you’ve been living next door to toji for a couple months now. tall dude, always in those tight black shirts that show off his scars and muscles, always smirking like he knows something you don’t. you catch yourself staring at him every time he’s out on the balcony smoking or carrying groceries like they weigh nothing.
one night you were home alone, touching yourself and moaning a little louder than usual. you thought the walls were thick enough. they weren’t. toji heard every bit of it.
from then on, he couldn’t get you out of his head. the soft, breathless sounds you made, the way you probably looked spread out on your sheets. he started finding excuses to talk to you in the hallway, his lazy, knowing eyes dragging down your body whenever you met.
and turns out, you wanted him just as bad.
it finally happens on a random thursday night. you’re coming back with takeout and there he is, leaning against his doorframe like he’s been waiting hours just for you.
“heard you again last night, sugar,” he drawls, voice low and thick with teasing. no shame at all.
your face gets hot, but you don’t back down. instead, you bite your lip and look him straight in the eyes. “yeah? and what did you do about it?”
toji chuckles, a deep, rough sound that sends a shiver straight down your spine. “now, ain’t that a sweet invitation.”
before you can even blink, he pulls you inside his apartment. the door barely clicks shut before his big, calloused hands grab your waist, dragging you flat against him. his mouth is on yours immediately oh he sure is hungry, like he’s tired of waiting. you tug at his shirt, feeling the hard, unyielding muscle underneath, but he just pinches your chin with two fingers, forcing you to look up into his dark, amused eyes.
“been wanting you since i first heard you whimpering through the drywall,” he murmurs against your lips, his hot breath making your knees weak. “all shaking now? like a leaf? you knew exactly what you were getting into.”
you laugh a little, breathless and tense with anticipation. “i wasn’t whimpering.”
“oh doll you will be,” he promises, his smirk deepening.
he doesn’t rush a single thing. he carries you to the couch, but instead of just letting you have it, he takes his sweet time, pinning your wrists and letting his weight rest over you. his thumb slowly brushes over your bottom lip, deliberately making you wait, making you squirm under his heavy gaze.
“look at you, all flustered, not knowing what to do with yourself,” he coos, clearly loving the control he has over you. “i could make you beg real pretty right now. but i like watching you hold back.”
“toji… please,” you whimper softly, your body aching for his touch.
“there it is,” he chuckles, the sound low and knowing.
he finally slides your clothes off, his touch featherlight against your thighs, contrasting the sheer, heavy size of him. when he pushes your legs apart, his mouth is on you before you can even catch your breath. you grab his hair, hips lifting off the cushions while he ruins you, his tongue slow and deliberate until you’re completely undone, crying out loud into the quiet room. he just grins against your skin, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he flips you over.
“ass up, doll. let me see how much you want it.”
he drives into you hard. deep, heavy strokes that make you moan loud enough for the whole building to hear this time. one hand grips your hip to hold you still, while the other tangles in your hair, pulling just enough to keep you looking back at him. every single thrust is greedy, a constant reminder of how much power he has over your body right now.
“oh shit,” he groans, his pace getting rougher, more demanding. “gonna make me finish inside you if you keep squeezing me like that.”
“t-ji… fuck, please d-dont stop—i’m fuck…i’m close…” you push back against him, completely desperate for more. toji lets out a low, gritty laugh, spankin’ you once just to hear you gasp, and then he’s driving faster, burying himself as deep as he can go. when you cum again, your walls clenching around him, it completely breaks his restraint. he follows you right over the edge, groaning your name as he finishes inside you.
afterward, you’re both sweaty and tangled up on his couch. he lights a cigarette, his heavy arm slung around your shoulder, pulling you close like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
he takes a drag, his smirk widening as he looks down at you. “ain’t no rush, darlin’... we got all night.”
⡴ utterly whipped gojo with a girl who’s just using him for dick slowly warming up to him ⡴ 0.5k words
“you’re really gonna make me leave baby?” he’s frowning. frowning like a child while he stands by your apartment door as you’re actively trying to shove him out. “i brought flowers.” he looks over to them on your table, sitting in a vase he brought with a sappy note attached to it. he looks back at you with puppy eyes to try and convince you further.
“yes, i am.” you just keep on pushing him trying to hurry him out your door but making next to no progress. you know you’ll win eventually though. you guess in about 5 minutes you’ll compromise and say he can actually kiss you next time if he leaves. “i’m not looking for a relationship right now, gojo. i don’t need you all fawny over me. now leave.”
his lips quiver like they’re about to cry. his hands even grip harder on the change of clothes he brought incase you’d let him sleepover this time and the fabric scrunches beneath his touch.
“so you’re just using me for my body?” he knows damn well you are. for gods sakes you met him at a bar and had told him you just wanted rebound dick from your last breakup. his other hand pushes on the door frame, steadying him and rendering him completely still. you stop pushing at this point. he’ll leave eventually.
“you’re a great person ,” you feel like you’ve said this before, and by his hurt face it looks like he has too, unfortunately now seeing it from the other side. “but i can’t deal with all this mopey shit. i have work, bills—”
“i can pay them!” he suggests, perking up like that’s the only word he heard. “or you could move in with me!” he’s back to that prince charming smile you can just tell he abused back in college.
“that’s not it, gojo—”
“i love you,” he grabs your wrists, dropping his clothes he was holding, that were by your side and brings them up to his face, forcing you to cup his jaw. you stare up at him. “i can wait, sweetheart! i can—i really can!” he’s like a child trying to convince their mother they won’t act too crazy on sugar.
he stays going off on a tangent now, gripping your wrists even tighter unconsciously.
“i-i can buy you anything. my friends would love you—especially utahime, you hate me like her i guess. i already give you good dick, i mean you were just moaning not to long ago—” you start to drown him out.
“—just one date. if you really do hate me you can slap me after it, just let me try. please? don’t be so cold hearted, baby.”
“gojo,” he looks disappointed already, like he’s anticipating a terrible answer. “come here.” you gesture with your hands for him to lean closer. you plop a delicate, just barely there, chaste kiss on his cheek. “go home.” you deadpan.
and best believe he’s showing up at your door the next evening awaiting another one.
⡴ utterly whipped gojo forcing you to praise him during sex [kinda a pt 2 to this ? ] ⡴ didn’t even touch word count
he’s balls deep in you, and yet of course he’s still spouting stupid bullshit.
“i’m doing good, right baby?” he moans (moreso whimpers), still thrusting in that half-romantic half-what it’s actually supposed to be—a hookup—rhythm. his normally porcelain cheeks are completely flushed, his cool white hair falls in his face, some strands sticking to his forehead glistening in sweat.
“i—what?” you manage to say, still out of breath from how he’s fucking into you with his unfairly big cock. every perfect ridge and vein of it is dragging against your walls as he thrusts in and out of your sopping cunt—though you’ll deny how wet you are because of how large gojo’s ego will be if he knows he actually arouses you.
“say it.” he pouts above you, gripping harder on your shoulders he’s deemed a perfect leverage point in you to help with his strokes. “say i’m doing good… please?” his blue eyes pleading to you like a puppy dog.
“gojo, i’m not fucking doing th—” he shoves all the way back in and stops his thrusts. you moan without even meaning to from the sheer amount of girth being stuffed in you. he juts his lower lip out further, clearly upset by your answer.
“c’mon,” he looks physically pained as he restrains himself from continuing his thrusts. “just say it and i’ll keep fucking you.” he whines out, sounding a lot more weak and less intimidating than he thought he would.
you breathe out. you know he’ll hold on to this for the rest of the foreseeable future but you’re close anyway. you’ll come then kick him out like always and if next time he keeps mentioning it, you’ll just stuff his face with your pussy.
“you’re doing so good, gojo.” you moan out in a shaky voice.
he moans, loudly, near pornographic, and he gets back to thrusting immediately, except he seems more motivated. his strokes are fasting and more like he’s trying to impress you. his sounds are more desperate and huffy than before.
he reaches around your waist to hug you closer and shove his face deep in your neck, right below your ear.
“haaah, fuck, baby—say i’m the best you’ve ever had, please.”
“mm, god, gojo you’re the best i’ll ever fucking have.” he cries out. cries out and actually cries. tears start streaming down his pale face and cupping along your neck and collar bone where he’s found solace. he’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon.
unwantedly but admittedly, you say this next one yourself. it’s almost like you’re starting to… like him. ew.
“such a g’boy for me, satoru.” he nuts. immediately thick cum oozes into your pussy, spilling out from how overstuffed it already is with his girthy, oversized, genetic lottery winning cock. his whole body shakes and shivers while he releases, still trying to thrust so you could finish like the good boy he is.
unfortunately he forgets he’s not god and ends up overstimulating the hell out of himself by the time he gets you to cream by his thumb pressing along your clit.
he brings his head up, covered in sweat as he’s still shaking from the feeling of nutting the hardest he ever has.
he looks nearly completely out of it before his lips curl into a smirk. “you finally called me satoru!” and then he’s attacking your lips and shoving his tongue so far down you’re throat like he’s wasn’t just near seizing from cumming.
Ი𐑼 you hang out with talkingstage!eren, and he takes you shopping at an anime store!
once you and eren had finished your work, he agreed to take you the the new, nearby anime store.
walking inside, you both were immediately greeted with a life-sized naruto statue. the interior of the store was packed with floor-to-ceiling shelves of manga, collectible figures in glass cases, and posters covering every inch of wall space—some faded, some signed. the soft ambient lighting gave the shop a cozy feel.
the worker at the desk greeted the two of you before you set off to explore everything the store had to offer.
“what’s your favorite anime?” he asked as the two of you walked around side by side.
“i haven’t watched a lot yet, but so far it’s between jjk and death note. how about y–”
“gojo dies.”
you froze mid-sentence, slowly turning to him with a deadpan stare. “you’re lucky i already knew that.”
he just shrugged, a smug grin spreading across his face, clearly pleased with himself.
your glare lingered a second longer than necessary, but there was no real heat behind it. “answer my question,” you muttered as you shifted your gaze towards the L figures. you loved L, he was so cute to you.
“vinland saga. you should watch it—it’s really good.”
you turned to him with a mock-serious expression. “i don’t think i will, actually,” you said as a laugh escaped your lips. “you’re being so mean to me,” you added, smiling teasingly.
“fuck you,” he uttered as he picked up the latest jjk manga issue. he flipped onto a page you immediately recognized as the page where your husband got snapped in half, shoving it towards you as you tried your best to divert your gaze.
“look at it,” he said, laughing.
“no!” you cried, grinning despite yourself as you scrambled away to the saiki k section.
scanning the merchandise, your eyes landed on a small saiki dress-up plush. it was so cute.
and you needed it.
crouching down, you picked it up and inspected the pinked-haired doll.
“you know, you look like an ant from up here,” you heard a deep voice behind you—knowing just who it belonged to.
looking up from where you were, you rolled your eyes as you muttered, “at least I’m not a fucking giant.” you stood up while holding the plush you wanted to purchase.
you saw that he was holding a couple of different manga volumes. “you actually read those?” you asked, genuinely.
“yes?” he replied, furrowing his brows like you’d just asked if the sky was blue and the grass, green.
“you’re actually annoying,” you groaned. you held up the plush to him as he took it from your hand. “look at this.”
“you’ve seen saiki?” he inquired in a surprised tone.
you stared at him, deadpan. “no, i just thought it was cute—of course i watched the show!” you exclaimed, snatching the plush from his hand.
he grinned, “and you say that I’m mean to you,” he said as he chuckled, following you to the register at the front.
you placed the doll on the counter as he placed the mangas he chose.
“what are you doing?” you asked as you saw him getting out his wallet in preparation to pay.
“i’m paying…for the stuff we’re getting…” he drawled, eyes narrowed. “how did you think we were gonna walk out with it?” he shot you a look, brows furrowed in mock disbelief.
you rolled your eyes and huffed, “i was gonna pay for my thing.”
he shrugged casually. “guess that’s not happening anymore.” The clerk then asked him if he wanted two bags, to which he agreed.
“thank you, dad,” you mumbled mockingly as the two of you walked out of the store.
he rolled his eyes. “shut up.”
you looked to the side as a cute boba shop caught your attention. “can we go there, father?” you said once again in a mocking tone, pointing in the direction of the boba shop.
“no–fuck you,” he chuckled, heading towards the car.
“no! wait!” you whined, jogging after him. “please—i’m sorry. i won’t pretend like you’re my dad again. let’s go get boba, i’m hungry," you tried to reason with him, then added, “are you not hungry? you still have protein goals to hit—you CANNOT forget about hitting your daily protein goal,” you teased as you did your best to flex your non-existent biceps.
“how else are you supposed to get your gains,” you said in a deep tone, doing your best to mimic his voice.
“you’re not helping your case, y/n,” he laughed, “but fine. just so you’ll shut up.”
by then, you’d followed him all the way to his car, where he took both your bags and tossed them in the back seat. Without another word, he locked the car and walked right past you—toward the boba shop.
“why do you never wait for me?” you complained as you ran next to catch up to him. Those long legs moved so fast.
you both got your boba, and, of course, before you could even reach for your wallet, he had already paid.
his excuse was, “it’s easier than waiting for each other to finish paying.”
now back in his car, you both drank your boba as you had to bear witness to the weirdest videos he was losing his mind over.
he was practically in tears from laughing, doubled over in the driver's seat as if he'd never seen anything funnier in his life.
as you looked over at him, you weirdly felt a strong attraction towards this goofball. it looked like he was going to be someone you were going to be with, and you were totally fine with that!
piercing eren jaeger's ears (but he's a bitch) ˚.✦
"Stop shaking, you fucking idiot. I'm gonna end up doing a lobotomy if you don't stop moving." You say, flicking his forehead as strong as you could.
"Ow! You'd be moving as well if you had a pretty girl sitting in your lap threatening you with a needle," he argues, showing that mocking smile that makes you want to strangle him at that exact moment.
"Eren. You little shit. You asked me to pierce your ears, so stop being annoying and just let me do it."
Eren’s grin only widens, that infuriating thing that somehow still makes your chest tighten even when you want to punch him square in the mouth.
“Make me,” he says, deliberately tilting his head so his hair falls over the ear you’re trying to mark. “Come on, baby. You know you like it when I’m a little shit. Keeps things interesting.”
You pinch the lobe between your fingers harder than necessary, just enough for him to hiss.
“Interesting is gonna be you walking around with only one piercing because you couldn’t sit still like a big boy,” you mutter, pressing the marker to his skin again. “Left ear only. The gay one. How’s that for interesting, Jaeger?”
His eyes flash with something dangerous and delighted.
“Oh? So you’re admitting I’d look hot with the gay ear piercing?” He leans in, nose brushing yours, voice dropping to that stupid whisper. “Didn’t know my girl was into that.”
You shove the needle through without warning.
Eren yelps (actually yelps), body jerking so hard you have to clamp your thighs around his hips to keep him in place on the chair.
“FUCK! A warning would’ve been nice!”
“That was the warning, dumbass,” you say sweetly, sliding the stud in before he can recover. “Now sit still or the next one goes through your tongue.”
He’s panting, cheeks flushed, glaring at you like he’s mad but the way he’s gripping your waist says he’s never been more turned on in his life.
“You’re evil,” he breathes out.
You flick his fresh piercing just to watch him flinch.
“And you’re welcome.” You lean down, lips brushing the shell of his pierced ear. “Looks cute, by the way. Very slutty. Suits you.”
Eren groans, head falling back against the chair.
“…You’re piercing the other one tomorrow,” he mutters. “And then you’re sitting on my face for an hour as payback.”
You smirk, already cleaning the needle.
“Only if you say pretty please first, baby.”
a/n: idk how to feel about this eren jaeger. but i love the idea of him being a little shit
HALLOWEEN. a night known to either be filled with terror or a blast of fun and surprise you’d never expect.
in your case, it was a celebration with competition. you and sasha shared a skill that hadn’t come often to others and used it to your advantage. although it requires a vast amount of effort, this one night a year holiday remains a favorite to spread your creativity and allow it to be recognized.
it was your second year of running in the best costume competition, the party permitted by your frat with half of the supplies taken from your roommate, historia who helped with hosting the party.
just like last year, you and sasha matched, only to win again.
you tapped jean’s shoulder, and he turns, leaning his ear down to your mouth, his now temporarily green wet slicked back hair tickling your neck, “i’ll be back!” you shouted over the music, “i need to use the bathroom.”
he nods, and you carefully run off searching for a restroom. your arms push through the crowd, sending false smiles to those who greeted you congratulations upon noticing the crown and ribbon that showcased your win of the night.
unfortunately, as you detected a bathroom, there was a line and it seemed like the individuals waiting had been there longer than you thought.
“fuck…” you muttered under your breath, searching around to see if there was a place you could pee. though not the most appropriate, it wouldn’t be terrible as long as no one saw. your eyes landed on the window of the frat house and sighed, pushing it open and climbing over. the air was cold and formed goosebumps all over your skin.
silence took over and you gazed at the surroundings of the rooftop. near the edge was someone standing, hair flowing effortlessly in the wind.
you rubbed your eyes, hoping the drinks in your system weren't forcing you to imagine things so vividly. your feet trudge closer and you observe what they looked like from behind.
“hey!” you whispered-shouted.
quick on their feet, the person turned, shocked to find someone here.
“are you gonna jump?” you ask, somewhat concerned, “um, if so, don’t. because it definitely won’t be worth it. especially if you’re wearing a costume that hideous.”
the male frowns, registering your statement in his head.
“is that how you stop someone from jumping off a roof?”
“uh…” your mind isn’t able to formulate words, “well, it wasn’t really in my plan to stop someone from jumping…”
he steps away from the edge, tucking his hands in his pockets, closing a bit of distance between you, “then what was your plan?”
“to pee,” you answer quietly, taking a few steps back, slightly afraid of his deep stare and stoic voice.
“on the roof?” he laughs, not sure why you seemed so afraid.
you frown, “i know it’s not lady-like but the bathroom was occupied and i didn’t know where else to go…” your feet move on it’s own as he steps closer, only moving further away, “if it’s a problem i’ll just—”
“you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he assures, “and i don’t care where you pee, i was just kidding… boys do it all the time.”
you nod, silence filling the air and the two of you just staring.
“uh,” he sucks in a breath, “there’s a spot over there i think…”
“oh!” you scramble, somehow completely forgetting that you need to use the restroom. you heed to his suggestion, going over in the corner to conduct your business that only took a few minutes. you sigh, peeking your head around to see if the same male was still there.
there he was, back on the edge of the roof. hearing your feet scrape against the ground, he turns, “all good?”
you nod, a sheepish smile crossing your features, “thanks…”
“no problem…” he shrugs, “congratulations by the way,” he says, noticing the crown and ribbon along with your whole attire, “very cool costume as well.”
“thank you,” you mumble, warmed by the praise, “i made it myself.”
“really? wow, that’s amazing,” he raises a brow, stepping close to you again but this time you didn’t move away — if anything, you take steps forward, feeling more comfortable in his presence, “it’s way better than all the costumes i’ve worn.”
you gaze over his outfit and smile, “yeah, if all the costumes you’ve worn look like that then my regular clothes look better too. what are you even supposed to be?”
he frowns again, looking over his outfit as this was the second time you insulted it, “a viking…”
your mouth gapes open in shock. the lack of detail was astonishing. there was no sense of care in putting this supposed viking costume together.
“where’s that um, stupid little hat they wear?” you critique, “if you didn’t wear that you could’ve at least went with a sexy vibe and gone shirtless… you look like you have a nice body and you’ve got a pretty face… did you do this yourself?”
“yeah,” he laughs, “it was kind of last minute… wait, you think i have a pretty face?”
you roll your eyes, “whatever… just please, never make an outfit for yourself ever again. just buy one or have someone else put one together for you.”
“like who?” he scoffs, “you?”
you're silent, genuinely thinking about it before nodding, “yes, actually.”
“you’re serious?” he’s stunned. you could only nod, looking over his face and determining the potential it contained. he smiles, and tugs his phone out the side of his costume, “what’s your number?”
mindful of the drinks you had, you said each number slowly, watching him patiently listen to you whilst punching in the numbers, “one more, sweetheart, what’s the last number?”
you tell him and he nods, “good, now, what’s your name?”
“l/n y/n, what’s yours?”
he grins, leading you towards the window so you could head back to the party, “i’ll text it to you, go have fun.”
breaking up with eren jaeger because he's fucking annoying. ˚.✦
"Excuse you??" Eren blinks, opening his eyes as wide as he can.
"Don't make me repeat myself, Eren. Now please, leave," you state, crossing your arms.
He doesn’t move. Just stands there in your doorway like a malfunctioning. His jaw works back and forth like he’s chewing on the words before he spits them out.
“Are you really breaking up with me? C’mon!”
You don’t answer right away. You just stare at him: green eyes bugging, hair a disaster from whatever frat chaos he crawled out of thirty minutes ago, hoodie half-zipped like he dressed in a tornado. He looks genuinely stunned, like the concept of you walking away finally clicked and short-circuited his entire operating system.
“Baby,” he says, voice pitching up an octave he didn’t even know he had. “Baby. Wait. Hold on. This is a joke, right? You’re pranking me. You saw that TikTok where the girl fake-breaks-up and the guy cries in the Target parking lot and you were like ‘haha Eren would lose his mind’, right? Right?”
You tilt your head. “Eren. I’m not pranking you.”
His hands fly to his hair, tugging hard enough you’re worried he’s about to give himself a spontaneous bald spot.
“Okay okay okay. Let’s talk this out like adults. You’re mad. I get it. I left you on read for three days, but there was this party that got super insane. Like, Superbad level of insane”
“That’s not—”
“And yeah, I maybe forgot your coffee order last week but in my defense they changed the menu and the barista was being so aggressively nice I panicked and just said ‘surprise me’ like a fucking idiot—”
“Eren.”
“No no wait, the point is!” He takes one giant step forward, close enough you can smell the lingering Axe body spray and cheap beer. “I’m fixable. I’m like… IKEA furniture with missing screws. You just gotta tell me which ones and I’ll bam! fully assembled boyfriend. Promise.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You’re exhausting.”
“I’m passionate!”
“You’re annoying.”
“I’m enthusiastic!”
“You left your nasty gym socks on my nightstand again. They literally stood up by themselves.”
He winces. “Okay that one’s on me. They were… airing out.”
You stare at him. Deadpan.
He throws both arms out. “Look, I know I suck sometimes! But you can’t just end this. Us. Because of socks and forgotten texts and the fact that I once called your mom ‘MILF’ to her face—”
“You WHAT?”
“—but she laughed! She laughed! She said I was charming!”
“She was being polite, you moron.”
He pouts, blinking fast, attempting to look like that one picture of the Puss in Boots. "Babyyyuhhhhh, c'mon. Who's gonna treat you as good as me? Who's gonna eat your pussy that good, eh?"
You laugh, shrugging your shoulders. "I don't know, man. Reiner or Jean."
“Reiner. Or Jean.” He repeats it slowly, each syllable getting progressively louder and more offended. “You’re seriously sitting here, looking me dead in the eye, telling me you’re gonna let horse-face put his mouth on you? Or, God forbid, Reiner Braun, the dude who probably calls his dick ‘Reiner Jr’?”
You raise one eyebrow. “I mean… he does have that golden retriever energy. Might be nice for once.”
Eren makes a noise that can only be described as a strangled pterodactyl screech filtered through three Natty Lights and existential dread.
“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?” He throws both hands up so hard one of them smacks the doorframe. “Reiner couldn’t find a clit with a GPS, a flashlight and a PowerPoint presentation! And Jean, JEAN? That man’s foreplay is arguing about who gets to be the big spoon!”
You snort despite yourself.
He catches it. Immediately pivots like a lawyer who just found the loophole.
“See? You’re laughing. That means you’re not serious. You’re just mad because I forgot to text you back that one time when I was... listen, I was very drunk and Armin was explaining string theory after smoking a blunt.”
“Eren.”
“No, no, hold on.” He steps closer, palms out like he’s calming a wild animal. “I’ve been a little… distracted. But you cannot replace me with those two walking protein shakes. You think they know how you like it? How you really like it? The exact pressure, the little flick thing, the way you grab my hair and try to act like you’re not about to cry when I—”
“Eren Jaeger, if you finish that sentence I swear to God I’m calling Reiner right now.”
He freezes. Mouth still open. Then slowly, dramatically, he drops to his knees like a man about to propose to the concept of dignity itself.
“Please,” he says, voice cracking, hands clasped together. “I will do the dishes. I will stop leaving Monster cans everywhere. I will even, God help me, watch that show you and Armin are always talking about. Just… don’t let Jean anywhere near your pussy. He’ll probably call it ‘the vault’ or some finance-bro shit.”
You stare down at him. He looks pathetic. And somehow, still stupidly hot. Which is the most annoying part.
“You’re embarrassing yourself,” you say.
“I’m aware!” he whisper-yells. “I’m having an out-of-body experience right now and future-me is screaming at me to shut the fuck up but present-me is committed to the bit! So please. For the love of everything holy. Tell me you’re joking.”
You tilt your head, pretending to think about it.
“…I mean, Jean does send good morning texts. With emojis. Little sunflowers and coffee cups.”
Eren’s face crumples like he just watched someone kick a puppy.
“That’s it,” he mutters. “I’m fighting him. I’m fighting both of them.”
You roll your eyes so hard it hurts.
“Get up, you dramatic bitch. You're giving me the ick.”
He doesn’t move. Just looks up at you with those big eyes that—goddamn it—still work on you even when he’s being insufferable.
“One more chance,” he says quietly. “One. I’ll be better. I swear.”
You sigh. Long. Loud. The kind of sigh that’s been building since the third time he left his gym socks on your pillow.
“…You’ve got one week to prove you’re not the most annoying person I’ve ever dated.”
His whole face lights up like a toddler who just got told he could have ice cream for dinner.
“ONE WEEK! DEAL! I’m gonna eat your pussy so good you forget other men exist. Wait, no, don’t walk away yet, I’m still on my knees, this is part of the groveling aesthetic—”
You step over him.
“Seven days, Jaeger. Don’t fuck it up.”
He scrambles to his feet, grinning like he just won the lottery instead of barely dodging a breakup.
“Baby, I’m about to make Reiner and Jean look like they’re still in sex ed class.”
You don’t dignify that with a response.
Mostly because you’re already mentally preparing for how insufferably smug he’s going to be when he inevitably succeeds.
pairing: eren jaeger x reader, established relationship, college au
masterlist
“Why are you standing at my door right now?”
“Um maybe because I wanted to see you?” He replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.
Eren lets himself into your apartment, kicking his shoes off by the door. He at least has the decency to neatly push them up against the wall next to yours before he’s trekking the familiar path to your bedroom as if it’s his name on the lease. Try as you might, you can’t ever stop yourself from letting him in, even when you desperately need a few hours of peace and quiet to finish the mountain of assignments you have due by the end of the week.
“Eren, I seriously need to get some work done today,” you warn him.
He’s already in the middle of removing his sweatshirt, his reply becoming muffled by the fabric being pulled over his head.
“Trust me, I’ll be quiet. And then once you’re done we can go eat or something.”
You throw him a skeptical look, but take a seat at your desk anyways as he makes himself comfortable on your bed.
Eren stays true to his word for a whole half hour. He’s tucked politely against your pillows, airpods in and you gather that he’s probably watching a movie or something from the way he’s got his phone propped up horizontally against your teddy bear. You’re able to submit your first assignment with no issues. The room goes quiet as your focus increases with each passing minute.
It doesn’t take long before you’re interrupted. It’s such a tiny sound, a quiet huff of air from your boyfriend where he sits on your bed. He’s switched positions now, laying on his back with his phone held above his face.
You avert your attention back towards your laptop, easily slipping back into your work. The first giggle, you can ignore. You give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he really couldn’t hold it in. But then the giggles become more frequent and eventually turn into full-bodied laughs. Nothing is that funny. Especially when you have fifteen more calculus problems to finish and two full lectures to catch up on.
“Alright. Get up,” you demand, already grabbing his hoodie from the hook on your door.
You’ve never seen a person’s smile drop so fast.
Eren’s dark eyebrows are furrowed as he returns his airpods to the case, quickly standing up to stop you from gathering the rest of his things.
“I told you I had work to do and you’re sitting there giggling like an idiot. Not the time,” you mutter, doing your best to herd him toward your front door.
“What? Ok- baby I didn’t realize I was even laughing,” he begs.
Despite his pleas, you’re shoving his belongings into his arms and shutting your bedroom door behind the two of you.
“Please? I promise I’ll stop, just let me stay.”
“Nope, it’s too late. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Those words all but break him. He’s fully whining now, but still lacing up his shoes, obedient as ever.
“I can’t even come back later when you’re done?” He frowns.
Eren groans when you shake your head, mumbling to himself as he sees himself out of your apartment.
You’re not even sat back at your desk yet before your phone dings with a text: a TikTok link from your boyfriend that you kicked out no more than thirty seconds ago.
Immediately, you use your sock-covered toe to gently kick Eren’s foot over slightly, encouraging him to close his legs from their plant in a “man-spread.”
Your boyfriend, with an offended look and mouth agape, watches as you take your position on his now closed lap, legs draped over the side and your arm wrapping around his neck. You set the bowl of snacks on your lap and bring one of the salty crackers to his open mouth, not even acknowledging his incredulous expression. You gently coax the cracker into his mouth, but he doesn’t bite it quite yet.
“Excuse me?” He manages, mouth warbled around the cracker. His tongue prods the cracker in, and he chews it anggreddibely
You shrug, “yeah, like, you man-spread, you’ve got a man bun, you man-splain-“
“When have I ever man-splained something to you?” He grumbles, clearly still not taking your words well. You giggle. He softens just slightly. Your laugh always has had that effect on him.
“Baby,” you croon, leaning in to kiss his pout; once, twice, and on the third peck, he kisses back, and your heart rate spikes in excitement. “It’s not a bad thing. You are a man, it’s okay.”
“Yeah but don’t say it like that,” he whines. “Makes it sound like a bad thing. Like I want to be a menace.”
“You wake up and consciously make that decision everyday, it has nothing to do with you happening to be a man,” you snort. He takes the bowl from your lap and puts it to the side, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you closer. You smell the cheap body wash clinging to his skin, mingling with the expensive cologne he uses in his collar. His pout is etched into his face while he nuzzles into your neck, and his breath causes goosebumps to raise on your skin. You mewl and wrap your arms around his neck, letting his face comfortably burrow in the curve of your own. “But you’re my menace, I love you for that.”
You feel him smirk against your skin, and you shiver at the hot breath splaying over your neck.
⋆˚꩜｡ nanami distracting you from your crossword (smut)
your husband's got this thing he does where he reads the newspaper. an actual, physical newspaper. ink smudges on his fingers and everything.
you find it unbearably endearing.
every morning, rain or shine, nanami pads out to the kitchen in his robe—navy blue silk, a gift from you last christmas—and puts the kettle on. while it boils, he retrieves the paper from the front step, shakes off any dew, and settles at the small dining table with a sigh that sounds like a man finally home after a long journey.
you watch him from the doorway, still tangled in his bedsheets, hair a mess. he looks up over the rim of his reading glasses—because he wears reading glasses now, another thing that makes your chest ache—and smiles, soft and private.
"good morning, beautiful." he says, voice rough with sleep. "come here."
you shuffle over, and he pulls you into his lap without a word, settling you against his chest. he smells like coffee and warmth and something clean. he hands you a section of the paper, the lifestyle one, because he knows you like the crossword and the recipes.
"find anything good?" he asks, lips brushing your temple.
"just jelly recipes," you mumble, and he huffs a quiet laugh, the kind that vibrates through his whole body.
that's the thing about nanami kento. he's not loud. he's not flashy. he's a man who irons his shirts on sunday evenings, who organizes his bookshelf by color and then by height, who has a specific mug for each day of the week.
he's forty-seven to your twenty-five, and some people raise eyebrows, but they don't see this. the way he massages your feet after a long shift without being asked. the way he leaves little sticky notes on the bathroom mirror. you're beautiful. don't forget lunch. i'll be home by seven.
he takes care of you. thoroughly, completely, like it's the most natural thing in the world.
an hour passes. maybe two. the kettle has boiled and cooled twice. his tea is long forgotten, gone cold in his favorite mug—the chipped one from that pottery class you dragged him to last fall. he's moved on to the business section, scanning stock prices with mild interest, occasionally muttering about market trends under his breath.
you're still stuck on the crossword.
it's not even a hard one, which is what makes it so infuriating. a simple sunday puzzle, the kind meant for lazy mornings. but you've been stuck on 14-across for what feels like an eternity. "ancient stringed instrument, 7 letters." nothing fits. lyre? too short. lute? already used. you've erased the same squares so many times the paper is starting to wear thin.
nanami watches you from over his reading glasses, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. he's been watching for a while, actually. the way you chew on the end of the pen. the way you huff and cross out another guess. the way you've started muttering under your breath, a stream of creative curses that would make a sailor blush.
"stuck?" he asks, not even trying to hide his amusement.
"no," you snap, then immediately deflate. "yes. it's stupid. i've been on this one clue for twenty minutes."
"those are all four letters, when the crossword says seven."
"i know they are!" you groan, dropping your head back against his shoulder. "i'm losing my mind. this puzzle is going to be the death of me."
he chuckles, low and warm, and presses a kiss to the top of your head. "maybe you need a break."
"i don't need a break, i need the answer."
"kithara."
you blink. turn to look at him. "what?"
"kithara," he repeats, pronouncing it carefully. kith-ah-rah. "ancient greek stringed instrument, similar to a lyre but larger. seven letters."
you stare at him. "how do you know that?"
he shrugs, utterly nonchalant. "i read."
"i hate you."
"sure you do."
you scowl, but you're already filling in the squares. k-i-t-h-a-r-a. it fits perfectly. you hate him. you love him. you hate how much you love him.
"fine," you mutter. "thank you."
"you're welcome." he turns a page of his paper, infuriatingly smug. "now will you come take a nap with me? you've been hunched over that puzzle for two hours."
"in a minute. i have three more clues."
he sighs, long-suffering, but there's no real frustration in it. he goes back to his reading, and you go back to your puzzle, and the morning stretches on, comfortable and warm.
another ten minutes pass. then fifteen. you've made progress—six more clues down—but 27-down is giving you trouble now. "french philosopher, existentialist, wrote 'the stranger.'" camus. that's easy. but you keep second-guessing the spelling. c-a-m-u-s. no, that can't be right. is there an accent? should there be an accent?
you're so focused you don't notice when nanami sets his paper aside. don't notice when he shifts beneath you, adjusting your weight. don't notice until his hands slide up your thighs, warm and deliberate, and your breath catches.
"kento—"
"you're ignoring me," he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "i don't like being ignored."
"i'm almost done—"
"you said that twenty minutes ago."
his fingers trace the hem of your shorts, dipping just beneath. you shiver. the pen slips from your fingers, clattering onto the table.
"kento, the puzzle—"
"will be there later." his voice is low, patient, but there's an edge to it now. a heat that makes your stomach flip. he nips at your earlobe, just sharp enough to make you gasp. "i, on the other hand, am here now. and i think i deserve some attention."
you try to protest, but it comes out as a moan when his hand slides lower, palm pressing against you through the thin fabric of your shorts. he hums, satisfied.
"that's what i thought."
he lifts you easily, turning you to face him, settling you astride his lap. his hands find your hips, gripping firmly. his eyes are dark, half-lidded, boring into yours.
"lie back for me," he says, voice soft but commanding.
you obey, letting him guide you down until you're stretched out on the couch cushions. he follows, settling between your legs, his weight a comforting pressure. he pushes your shirt up slowly, reverently, exposing your stomach. he leans down and presses a kiss just below your navel, then another, trailing lower.
"ken…" you breathe.
"shh," he says, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. "let me."
he tugs them down, along with your panties, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs as he goes. his stubble scratches, sends shivers up your spine. he looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, lips glistening.
"so pretty," he murmurs, more to himself than to you. "always so pretty for me."
he lowers his head and licks into you like he's savoring every second. your back arches, a broken moan falling from your lips. he groans against you, the vibration sending sparks through your entire body.
"that's it," he says, pulling back just enough to speak. his voice is wrecked, lower than usual. "let me hear you. wanna know how good i'm making you feel."
his tongue finds your clit, circles it lazily, and your hips buck. he pins them down with a firm hand on your lower belly.
"ah-ah," he chides softly, lips brushing your slick flesh. "let me work. you just lie there and take it, sweetheart."
he alternates between broad, flat strokes and focused, pointed flicks, watching your reactions like he's studying a map. when you gasp, he repeats the motion. when you moan, he lingers. he learns your body all over again, every night, like it's his favorite ritual.
"kento—please—i'm c-close—"
"i know," he says, and there's a smile in his voice. he speeds up, just a little, his tongue flickering faster, his nose pressing against you. "come for me. i've got you."
you do, with a strangled cry, your hands fisting in his hair. he works you through it, gentling his motions, lapping at you softly until you're trembling and oversensitive. only then does he lift his head, chin slick, eyes burning.
he crawls up your body, kissing a trail over your stomach, your chest, your neck. his weight settles over you, his hardness pressing against your thigh.
"want more?" he asks, voice rough, forehead resting against yours.
you can barely nod. "yes. please."
he reaches down and guides himself to your entrance, and pushes in with one slow, steady thrust. you both groan, the sound mingling in the space between your lips. he stays there for a moment, buried deep, letting you adjust, letting you feel every inch of him.
"look at me," he whispers. you do. his eyes are dark, intense, full of a tenderness that makes your heart ache. "you're doing so well. taking all of me. my perfect girl."
he begins to move, slow and deep, each stroke measured and purposefu. he talks you through it, his voice a low, constant rumble against your ear.
"feel that? feel how good we fit together? god, you're tight. squeezing me so perfectly."
you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. he groans, his pace quickening just slightly.
"thaaat's it. take it. take all of it. you can handle it, can't you? my good girl. always so eager for me, aren't you?"
the tension builds, coiling hot and tight in your belly. he senses it, adjusts his angle, hits that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyes.
"there," he breathes. "right there. come on, sweetheart. come with me."
you shatter, clenching around him, and he follows with a choked groan, burying his face in your neck as he spills inside you. his hips stutter, his whole body shuddering, and he holds you tight through every pulse.
afterward, he stays inside you for a long moment, catching his breath. then he pulls out, gentle, and gathers you into his arms, pulling the throw blanket over both of you. he kisses your forehead, your nose, your lips.
"you okay?" he asks softly.
you nod, snuggling into his chest. "more than okay."
he hums, satisfied, and reaches for the remote to turn off the tv. the rain continues outside, soft and steady. his hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers.
"love you," he murmurs, already half-asleep.
"love you too, old man," you tease.
he pinches your side lightly, making you squeak. "watch it."
@dihtaifung girl u got too many accs which one do i tag
Zombie Apocalypse!AU, Older!Grumpy!Eren x Sunshine!Reader
Content: Reluctant traveling companions to lovers, age gap, found family, and eventual smut ;) but not til wayy later
Summary: It’s been years since the apocalypse started, years of Y/N being on her own save for her furry companion that was always by her side. Y/N thought that it was just her and her dog. That was until she ran into people who would change her life, she has yet to know if it’s for the better.
Masterlist
A/N: YES okay, it was The Last of Us that brought me back from my writers block grave. everybody say thank you daddy joel for bringing my spark back. and I’m such a sucker for zombie content that i NEEDED to see Eren in this situation. thus this fic was born!!! i hope you like it!!! and i hope it’s worthy for my re-debut 😩😩😩 oh and DISCLAIMER: the zombies in this fic are more like The Walking Dead zombies bc they are easier to write imo
