OWNED BY MIA .ᐟ twentytwo. black carribbean. part time fanfic writer full time girlblogger. beach babe yet raised in the city. ⌗wlw ( bi ). ego written by b’day. gojo’s pop princess. shaped by twentytens and boy bands.
RYNLINKS ˗ˏˋ ¹ carrd ² byf & dni ³ rules ⁴ pinkhoodi ( main )
𝒮𝑌𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 ⨾ domestic life with reiner has it’s late-night thrills.
𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜𝐼𝒩𝒮 ⸻ ( 1k+ words of . . . ) ⨾ nsfw content, reiner braun x fem!reader (black coded), modern alternative universe, established relationship, size difference, dry humping, rei’s a tease oooh >.< explicit language, lowercase intended, please enjoy! 𝜗𝜚
your husband is rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he finds you in the kitchen after midnight. you acknowledge him with a tired hum, pouring yourself a cold stream of water from a clear pitcher into a crystalline glass.
“had a feelin’ you left the bed,” he grumbles, voice thick with sleep. one hand absently dragging across the ridged lines of his stomach to scratch it. his midnight-blue pajama pants hang low on his hips; too low. you pretend you’re not staring at the ash-blonde trail of soft hairs disappearing beneath cotton.
“i did,” you murmur softly, downing the water in one long, smooth sip. the chill of it wakes you up a bit. the cold slips down your throat, but it’s the way he looks at you that wracks a euphoric zip down your spine, like your flimsy shorts and soft tank were made to torment him.
reiner’s admiration is slow, wanton, drifting over every inch of bare warmed skin your tiny pajamas leave uncovered. he steps closer, the soft-bluish fridge light cutting across his bare broad chest and those ridiculous biceps.
the man’s forever shirtless around the house, so the temptation’s made casual to you. not that you’ve ever found a reason to complain.
he peers your way with eyes golden as the sun, looks you over like he’s starving, thumb dragging along his angled jaw of stubble as if he’s debating whether to be gentle or ruin you right here.
“c’mere,” he murmurs, voice scraped low, “you look too good to be walking around this late.”
“we gotta head back to bed, rei . . .” but you go to him willingly anyway, let his strong forearm curl around your waist. how could you not? with that sleepy grin playing on his lips, the cute mussed state of his blonde undercut, the way his torso flexes every time he shifts; subtle, unconscious, like even half-awake he’s built for the sake of your desire.
his hands are already on your hips, big palms claiming the curves of you for every inch. your little pair of sleep shorts ride higher when he lifts you onto the counter, his breath warm against your throat, his scruffy jaw rough enough to make you gasp.
“was just dreamin’ about those lips,” he grips your thighs and spreads them with effortless strength, wedging his solid body between them like he’s claiming the space. you mewl at the warmth, arms looping around the base of his neck.
“had to come down here ‘n taste them for real.”
reiner takes you in for a deep kiss, so fervent it has your teeth clashing like that of pearls upon bone. he tastes you as if he’d been waiting all day, like your skin is the only thing that ever quiets him. the contrast of his pale, veined knuckles gripping your warm brown thighs is obscene yet beautiful altogether.
you feel yourself growing wetter by the second, a fast heat blooming shamefully easy just from the way he presses into you. his cock is already hard against your shorts, thick and insistent, caged by the restrictive cotton of his pajama bottoms.
he leans in, heavy and warm, and the first slow roll of his hips steals the breath from your lungs. the width of him grinds up against your soaked sleep shorts, thick and unforgiving beneath the thin fabric, shaft slotted just right and dragging right over the place that’s already pulsing for him.
“r—reiner!”
“mm, there she is,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice cracked with sleep and want. his palms tighten around your thighs, pulling you closer so he can do it again; slow, deliberate, a lazy stroke that leaves you trembling.
you whimper before you can stop yourself, the sound small and needy in the dark kitchen. he laughs softly, low and pleased, chest brushing yours as he presses in deeper. “yeah, i feel you,” he breathes, grinding up into you in another long, obscene push. “gettin’ wetter for me already . . . don’t wanna sleep anymore? you miss your papa that bad?”
“reiii, don’t stop, papa . .” soft and needy, you mewl at the marking nips he delivers to your throat, hips already arching into the delicious grind of him pressed against your center. his touch roams greedily over your full breasts, squeezing a handful through the fabric of your skimpy camisole, circling, kneading, teasing just enough to make you whine for more.
the friction is perfectly obscene; cotton pressed to cotton, bodies slicked together from beneath it, and it hits you all over again, how easily he ruins you. half-asleep, hair tousled, eyes barely open . . . and still, with just the slow, heavy grind of his hips, he has your body coming apart, trembling, leaking, every whimper soaked with want for him.
reiner leans closer, hot breath ghosting along your neck, sharp-edged teeth grazing the soft curve where your shoulder meets your his. deft fingers slide over your ribs, palming your breasts with a thorough hand, this time taking his thumbs to circle your hardened nipples and pinch until you mewl against him.
the grind intensifies, hips rolling with deliberate pressure, pressing you impossibly closer against him. every sloppy inch of movement makes you wetter, hotter, leaking all over him, and he hums low in approval, one hand tangling into the curls of your soft hair to tilt your head back toward his.
“god . . . you feel too good,” he rasps, lips brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear. “barely awake and still this needy for me already.”
then, with a sudden shift, he steadies your thighs onto the wide expanse of his strong shoulders, pressing himself fully between your legs and grinding harder— each movement calculated to drive you fucking insane. his mouth recaptures your soft, pillowy lips in a messy, wet kiss, tongues tangling, and your hands dig into the meat of his tan broad shoulders as your hips buck helplessly against him.
every moan you release, every shiver that wracks your body, he drinks in, murmuring filthy praise and warnings at the same time. “mine, all mine,” he growls, grinding into you with lazy, punishing insistence, proving that even while half asleep, your husband is all-consuming.
“aw, look at you,” reiner groans, dragging you closer until the swell of your full chest is pressed to his own, “my girl sittin’ here all sweet for me.” his mouth finds the hollow of your collarbone, sucking at the supple flesh all slow and hungry.
it’s with much haste— damning his already poor sleep schedule— that he slips both your shorts and pink soiled panties aside. his groan is low and rumbling as his eyes drink in the sight of you, pulsing and slick, already dripping for him. his pajama bottoms fall in a quick slide down the meat of his thighs, and his cock springs free; an arousing mauve-pink at the tip, hot and slippery with need, veins mapping the thick length, bobbing subtly under its own weight.
without hesitation, he slots himself between your lips, warm and heavy, and you gasp, mouth watering as your fingers tighten around his arms. the heat, the slick, the sheer size of him pressed into you; everything overwhelms your senses, leaving you trembling atop the marbled counter. he grunts out when he thrusts himself between your folds, throbbing cock laying heavy over your center.
“i— ooh, fuck . . should never let you out of my sight, honey.”
and in the effortless way he lines himself up, pulls you close, prepares you, like he’s about to eat every soft sound you make, you don’t want him to.
꒰ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ enjin had left you weeks ago, but now he’s back at your door - drunk, and absolutely devastated.
enjin had been drunk before. he had been reckless, loud, bleeding, grinning with broken teeth and broken knuckles. he had staggered through alleys with smoke in his lungs and blood on his collar and still managed to make it back to base without collapsing.
but tonight he could barely walk in a straight line. the bottle was still in his hand when he knocked on your door. reluctantly you opened it, and just stared at him.
he looked… wrong. his hair was messier than usual, his coat hung for dear life over his back. cheeks flushed, eyes glossy and unfocused in a way that made your stomach falter instead of flutter. he blinked at you, slow and heavy – then his entire face softened.
“there you are,” he murmured, relief flooding his voice like he had been searching for hours. “been lookin’ everywhere.”
your throat closed at his words. and then he stepped forward immediately with his arms wide open to pull you in. a little bit like muscle memory. but then you put a hand on his chest, and he frowned at the resistance, because the concept of you denying your man body contact was unbelievable.
“what’re you doin’?” he asked, genuinely confused. “c’mere.”
“enjin,” you said quietly, and his name hurt on your tongue.
he leaned closer anyway, trying to nuzzle into your shoulder. “missed you,” he mumbled against your hair. “c’mon. kiss me.”
you swallowed hard.
he smelled like cheap liquor and smoke and the faintest trace of the oil he always carried on his skin. he smelled so devastatingly familiar.
“we broke up,” you said.
he went absolutely still. “what?” he laughed, like you had made a bad joke. “don’t start.”
“i’m not starting anything.”
his hands tightened slightly on your jacket, confused rather than angry. “why’re you acting weird? you mad at me? did i forget somethin’?”
you felt your eyes burn. “you forgot everything,” you whispered.
he stared at you, blinking slow. “forgot what?”
“the fight. the weeks before that. you leaving.” your voice shook despite your effort to steady it. “you said you couldn’t do this anymore. you said i was a distraction. that you needed to focus. that i deserved someone who wasn’t always one job away from dying.”
he stared like you were speaking another language. “i would never say that,” he said offended.
“you did.”
“no,” he insisted, shaking his head too hard. “i wouldn’t.”
“you did, enjin.”
he looked at you for a long moment, searching your face for a punchline. when he didn’t find one, something fragile crept into his expression. “why would i leave?” he asked quietly.
because you were scared, you almost said. because loving me made you vulnerable. because you thought pushing me away was protecting me.
instead you said, “you thought it was the right thing.”
he let go of you slowly. the bottle slipped from his fingers and rolled across your doorstep.
“that’s stupid,” he muttered.
“i know.”
he looked around like the world had shifted without asking his permission. then back at you.
“you’re my girl,” he said softer now. “why wouldn’t you cuddle me?”
your heart cracked open in your chest. “i’m not your girl anymore.”
he swayed slightly. “you don’t get to say that,” he replied, almost childlike. “you don’t get to just—” he gestured vaguely between you. “erase it.”
“i didn’t erase it,” you whispered. “you did.”
silence stretched between you as his eyes slowly filled with tears. it wasn’t the dramatic drunk crying. but the stubborn blinking that failed to hold back the wet shine gathering at his lash line.
“i don’t remember,” he said, voice breaking in a way you had never heard before. “i don’t remember leavin’ you.”
you pressed your lips together to keep from sobbing. “i remember,” you said.
he looked absolutely devastated when he reached for you again. “can i… just sit?” he asked. “i won’t kiss you. promise. just… sit.”
you hesitated, then you stepped aside. he stumbled in, collapsing onto your couch like it was the safest place in the world. he patted the space next to him automatically, then froze like he remembered he wasn’t supposed to. you sat anyway.
there was a careful inch of space between you. he stared at that inch like it offended him.
“i was stupid,” he muttered eventually.
“you don’t even remember it.”
“i know me,” he said bitterly. “if you’re not next to me, i messed up.”
you let out a shaky laugh through your tears.
he leaned his head back, eyes closing for a moment. “did it hurt?” he asked quietly.
“yes.”
he nodded once, jaw tightening. “then i’m sorry,” he whispered.
the sincerity in his voice made your chest ache. after a moment, his head tipped sideways.
“can i at least hold your hand?” he asked quietly.
you looked at at the drunk stubborn idiot who had broken your heart because he thought loving you was selfish. a quiet sigh escaped you as you slid your hand into his, and he exhaled like he had been underwater.
surprisingly he didn’t try to push his luck and pull you closer. instead he held your hand against his chest and fell asleep like that.
in the morning he would remember everything, and he would have to choose whether to run again. but tonight, with his fingers laced through yours and his breathing slow and uneven against your shoulder, he held on like he had never let go at all.
getting stuck on the streets of canvas town in the midst of a sudden heavy rain with Enjin, who absolutely loathes it so he shields himself underneath some dinky bus stop (the one with a little bit of coverage from the roaring downfall), trying to light up a cigarette. you tried to get him to twirl with you in the cooling raindrops, but he was pretty adamant of avoiding getting completely drenched. so you pull the cutesy pouty puppy face for a brief moment, and instantaneously — you conjure a sneaky plan.
so you casually walk up to him, slow, innocent strides, cup his face with your hands and promptly pull him down to your height for a tender, loving deep kiss. the very one he always molds into, every time. heavy honeyed eyes that held nothing but sheer exhaustion and slight annoyance gradually closing, hums softly to the elated delight of your sweet lips pressed against his and body instantly melting into your wooing touch.
doesn't even realize that his slouching body was getting pulled into the hefty rain; his hair completely damped and coat feeling much more heavier then before. he groans softly, about to give you an earful of complaints but immediately smiles to your sweet, playful giggles and infectious smile brimming against his lips. meets your lulling gaze and it swiftly drained all thoughts of negativity and disdain from his scrambling mind.
oh how easy it is for you to get this man to fall ever so harder every time with your sly ways, bewitching eyes and candied kisses. ♡
dad!enjin who was very calm when you announced your pregnancy.
he was the leader of a bunch of young people anyway so he figured it’d be the same; you assured him it wouldn’t.
dad!enjin who almost never let you go outside out of fear of pollution entering your body.
he didn’t want to see you harmed in any way which is why he tried so hard to get you to hide your pregnancy for as long as you could.
of course, arkha and semiu almost instantly but they agreed to keep the secret.
dad!enjin stopped smoking.
well, he was trying.
he never smokes near you, and on the times, he'd slip up and smoke; he'd shower before getting near you.
dad!enjin who hated your mood swings.
he loved you to death but anytime you’d switch from calmly lying in bed with him to whining about him going on so many missions annoyed him to no end.
who’d drive five hours away to random obscure places for your cravings. As much as you hated when he was away on missions, you loved when he returned with your favorite treats.
of course he'd sneak some out for rudo as well.
dad!enjin who loved playing with your belly. the second he realized the baby would respond to his touch and sometimes voice he'd constantly poke it when you two were alone together.
dad!enjin after a while decided it'd be best to let akuta know. you'd need more cleaners to look after you even though you hated the idea...
dad!enjin had an unreadable expression on his face... to anyone else.
you could tell he was absolutely in love with his new baby girl.
dad!enjin who suited being a girl dad and wanted more.
enjin would be such a girl dad and he'd never act like he hated it either (short ikik sorrrrrry)
I don't know how he does it, but Kubo's art-syle can be so elegant and majestic in such a *minimalist* way
Like there are so many panels by him where a character is simply just standing still on a plain white background (which I know is something he's often criticized for), without doing any wild poses or wearing over-designed outfits, but somehow it just looks so damn clean, almost like they're meant to be the cover instead of a random mid-chapter panel.
Why are you not re-blogging? You think the fandom is dead, that no one’s interacting anymore, no one’s doing anything, no one’s writing, no one’s posting. ‘Everyone was so hyperfixed on that character, Where is the writing?’
People are writing. People aren’t reblogging. People aren’t giving some good feedback to motivate the writers that are putting their hard work, time, effort into making this piece that you were reading.
‘oh, it’s just too much work. You don’t wanna click that button and then click a few tags.’ Then you’re gonna have to suffer and not see a lot of writing from a lot of people because the only way this fucking app works is if you reblog.
I see so many pieces of work with 59 likes and 1 blog, I just saw one that had 690 likes and it had 9 reblogs. Even 1,000 likes and only 59 reblogs too. It’s devastating to see for the community of Tumblr. And I’ve been here for like five years, the way this app works is if you re-blog.
There’s so many people that are writing. There’s so many amazing things that I see and I try my best to reblog every single one that I read. That’s what I love doing because sharing someone’s piece of work is just beautiful because it allows me to show it to more people.
I reblog. And the beauty of it is;
I get notifications that this person liked it and this person liked it, and then that post continues to get more views, more likes and reblogs. All just because one person, reblogged it.
so please, if you are a part of Tumblr and you love reading your favorite writers fics, or love reading about your favorite character, please do your job and reblog it.
And if you don’t like re-blogging because you don’t want to do that on your account, then you can make another account and put all of the things that you read on that account. You can do separate things, like fic recs.
You can figure it the fuck out if you want people to actually be writing for a character you love. The writers are writing, you ain’t helping them share their work.