Pairings: Piercer!eren X Reader

pairings: piercer!eren x reader

warnings: smuuuttt 18+, eren is the president of the subby men club, pegging ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶꒱ྀི১

a/n: I'm nervy to put this out omggg

pt.2 to Good girl but ofc can be read as a standalone

Boss

You heard him before you could see him. The slam of the front door, throw of his keys and heavy sigh alerting you he wasn't in the best mood.

“Baby?” You peeked your head out before walking into the living room, where he sat with his hands over his face, fingers separating wide enough to look at you before he put his arms out.

A telltale sign he had a bad day. Eren was usually the energetic one of your pair, always coming home with a smile on his face before he made you take a break from whatever it was you were doing to ramble on about his day, and happily listen about yours.

However, on bad days he just wanted to be held, quiet for the night as you whispered affirmations in his ear.

“Wanna talk?” Your hands cradled his face as he pulled you close.

“Today was annoying. We had two shipments come in, and of course one of them was wrong. Then one of Mikasa’s clients was being a perv and when I tried to handle it the asshole swung at me, so of course I had to beat his ass, and call the cops. Their asses didn't even help because they tried to accuse me of selling drugs out of the shop. Shit was a fucking mess.” He groaned. Crescent indents formed on your hips as his grip tightened.

“I'm sorry, pa” Your plump lips littered slow soft kisses on his.

“Anything I can do to make your day better?” The tension in his shoulders dissolving as you massaged them.

“Just you- fuck just you being here is perfect, baby” He groaned as your hands traveled down to his biceps, the tension high in his muscles.

He leaned back into the couch, eyes shut as you worked your magic. His body had finally started to relax after the events of the day when he felt you get off of him.

“Where are you-” He opened his eyes, pausing when he saw you down on your knees in front of him, fingers hooked around the waistband of his sweats.

“Y-you don't have to baby. It's okay” He let out a shaky breath.

“I want to. All you have to do is relax. You've been the boss all day. Let me have my turn.” Your thumb grazed the growing bulge under his sweats before pulling both his boxers and pants down in one swift motion.

“Ahh” He whimpered, low eyes watching as you stroked his length a few times before your lips parted, kissing his tip as your tongue swiped up the precum.

“Baby, please” He whined, hips bucking as you swirled your tongue around his frenum piercing.

As badly as you wanted to tease him till he cried, you knew he was due for a break. Allowing your gathered saliva to slide onto his length as you shined his dick, fingers wrapped tightly around his base as you slowly took him in your mouth, getting halfway before letting your hands do the rest as you bobbed your head.

His chest heaving as you took more every time your head came up to lick along his slit.

He was needy. You could tell by the soft whimpers he tried so hard to contain whenever you took him out of your mouth to suck on his balls, tongue circling his ass for a quick second before coming back up to wrap your mouth around him.

“D-don't stop, mommy” He whined as you widened his legs, thumb applying pressure to his aching hole as you took him fully into your mouth.

You couldn't tell if it was the blowjob, the pressure to his puckered hole, or the mixture of the two as he cried and whimpered, thighs tensing as his dick jumped in your mouth, salty cum filling your mouth.

Letting him slide from your mouth with a pop, you kissed along the underside of his dick, tounge running over his veins as you stroked the last few drops of cum from him.

“What do you want baby?” You coaxed him, looking up into his needy eyes while rubbing soothing shapes into his thighs.

“Need you to fuck me, mommy, please” He whined, slowly pumping his dick with a tight grip.

He eagerly followed you to your shared bedroom, patiently spread out on the bed while you fished out your favorite pink confetti strap and a bottle of lube from your closet.

You couldn't help but smile down at him as you situated yourself between his legs. It took weeks of begging him to at least think about allowing you to do this, finally caving when he felt your tongue accidentally graze over his ass one night while giving him head.

Nothing would ever top him fucking you from behind when it came to your sexual encounters but having him needy and whiny under you as he begged you to go faster definitely came second.

Apologizing for the cool sensation of the lube you prepped him, basking in the way his standing dick twitched when your thumb slid in. After coaxing a second orgasm from him just from foreplay you squeezed a large amount of the gooey substance onto the dildo, coating the object before slowly easing into him.

You took care to tease him with slow, deliberate strokes, your fingers tightly wrapped around the base of his dick as you stroked him with the same pace of your thrust. Green eyes staring up at you as he moaned for more.

“Tell me how it feels, baby.” You murmured, watching him squirm.

“Feels- fuck feels so good, mommy” He whimpered, abs tensing as your fingers ghosted over his tip.

“Yeah?” You smirked, free hand gliding up his abs to pinch his tiny pink buds as you increased your pace. His grip tightening on the sheets as he panted your name.

“H-harder, please” He moaned, trembling under you.

Who were you to deny your boy? Changing positions you gave him exactly what he asked. A hand wrapped around his dick as your hips ricochet off of his cheeks. Your name left his lips in whiny muffled cries as he arched back into you. The sound of wet slaps echoed through the room as he cried from pleasure.

“C-can't hold it anymore, mommy” You already knew he was close, his dick twitching with every thrust and stroke.

“I know, baby, let go” Your fingers wrapped tightly around his base, thumb circling his sensitive tip.

“Fuck- nghh” He became a moaning mess, cum spurting on your hands and the sheets as you milked him dry.

Slowly retracting from him, you licked your fingers clean, kissing up his back as you whispered I love you's and praises, before helping him clean up and change the sheets.

With a smile on your face, you climbed into bed next to him.

“Feel better?” You pecked his lips, giggling at the slap earned on your ass, as he deepened the kiss. He truly just needed his frustration fucked out of him to get back to his usual self.

“Almost” He smirked.

“Almost? And what would make you better than this?” You asked, confused by the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Sit on my face?”

Playing truth or dare with your friends has them asking you who you have a crush on not knowing your eyes immediately drifted to deku’s. Having had a crush on him for years it’d be pointless to say it now, especially since he’s so popular. He’s the #1 hero, he could have anyone, why would he want his stupid childhood friend? So instead you drink, your cheeks burning hot because you can feel his eyes on you. Everyone boos and shouts complaints at your silence but you just giggle and say “it’s gonna take a few more shots for me to spill that kind of secret” and certainly a few shots later Izuku had you under him while his cock fucks into your gushing hole from behind while he watches your reactions in the bathroom mirror. He’s got his hand on your jaw so you can keep looking at yourself while he asks you, “who is it hm? Katsuki? Kirishima? Just tell me who you’re thinkin’ about right now” and you’re all teary eyed pussy throbbing from your second orgasm while you whine, “it’s you! It’s you! Always been..love you ‘zuku” and he has to slow his hips down just to make sure he doesn’t bust too quick because he feels the way his balls squeeze at the confession of your love and the way his cock twitches inside of you at the sound of his name falling from your drooling mouth. Ah fuck his heart is squeezing in his chest because the girl of his dreams just said she loved him.

"Report: 2.5 millions Sudanese could die from starvation by September."

The RSF -a genocial militia- is mass starving Sudanese people. They are cutting off or denying food access to many through inflation of necessities and it's beyond horrific to see.

This is 5% of the population, and extends to interrelated issues. It has also been reported that roughly 80% of Sudanese people are not able to farm their lands adequately. So please continue to keep eyes on Sudan. Educate yourself, stay informed, and continue to share and donate to GFM's of Sudanese families. I post them on my page as I see them here, as well as when I come across them elsewhere. And as always, free Sudan.

CARE

2.5 million South Sudanese Face Severe Hunger, Figures Reveal - CARE

As many as 2.5 million South Sudanese will be living in severe hunger in the next three months, according to figures released today by the I

baby, you can mow my lawn!

[summary] the local dad you recently met is single and full of interesting stories about how easy it is to break furniture! have you ever heard of that stereotype about how divorced dads fuck with unbridled rage? yeah...

cw: divorced dad!toji, parenthood, sap and fluff, silly clichés, penetration, acts like an old dad, fucks like he isn't <3, age gap, he's got a big dick, oral m receiving, they get nasty with it!, size difference kink, creampies, 18+

masterlist this is the same universe in my head

it's nice to have a friend like toji.

some things you just can't be bothered with—like figuring out why your car is stalling, or dehumidifying the basement, or mowing your lawn every couple of weeks when it starts to sprout weeds, overgrown and dandelion-filled. it's arduous, hard work.

he's so kind, offering you a helping hand the way he does, all charitable smiles and advice. he does what you need with ease, then takes you out for coffee and pays for your drink. he even planted those, cute, new aloe plants you bought on an errand run together. he opens up about his past relationship—his only real one, he claims—and lets you gush over his son and alike he looks to him. it's fun, easy company—and so convenient, having a handyman around.

the day is sweltering and humid, and your grass is longer than ever—was, because toji, helpful as ever, is outside in your yard, lawn mower ripping, grass flying beneath it as it gets trimmed. you flick through the channels on your television, air conditioner blasting at the fractured thoughts ricocheting around your head.

be honest with yourself—you don't care about what you're going to watch.

not when your friend is in your perfect line of sight through your window.

his bulky back muscles ripple, his thin, white shirt soaked and stuck like a second skin on his stomach. his dark hair is plastered to his forehead, a sheen of sweat coating his veiny forearms and bulging biceps. he looks good. good enough to eat—like he'd probably taste saline and like aftershave and black coffee.

the sound of the mower dies. your lawn is pristine—it's not like you notice, not like you care, especially when he uses the end of his shirt to wipe off his forehead, his carved-out abdomen clenching with his heavy breaths, glittering and wet like the surface of a crystal lake.

this has been routine for months, now. you scramble from your lazy sprawl on the couch and into the kitchen, pulling out a jug of your brewed tea—one you make every time he's over, just because he told you how much he liked it.

you blame your clammy hands on the cold, ice-filled drink you pour into a glass and not the warm feeling that has your gut swirling and fingers nearly shaking.

the door rattles open, then creaks shut, and he's in your peripheral, his drenched shirt in his hand. he's shirtless—his thick fingers are combing through his damp locks, his neck rolling to the side as he stretches out. he's still panting softly, and when you turn and smile up at him, handing him his glass, you can't help yourself—his happy trail trail is dark and fuzzy, beaded with moisture, and your stare probably short-circuited on it for too long, but if he noticed, you couldn't tell.

his boots squeak against your floor. there's some stray grass hugging his muggy skin. he peers down at you and returns the small smile with a familiar fondness, calloused fingers brushing yours as he accepts the glass—

and you watch his strong throat work—ogle his hands dwarfing the glass. his warm palms melt the ice; droplets slip over his wrist and kiss the veins in his arm. the tea rolls down his chin as he finishes off the glass. the way he wipes his face and licks his lips is mannish and something else—something that makes your belly pulse.

"'s good—my favorite." the glass gently meets the counter with a tink. the lucidity of his green eyes is like a forest fire. "y'need me for anything else?"

you purse your lips, then laugh when he grins at you. the amusement in his gaze—it makes your brain stutter.

you consider him and lean back and grip the counter behind you for support.

"think you could be a doll and assemble my new sofa coming next week?"

the scent of freshly cut grass wafts through the open kitchen window—or maybe it's coming from him, an addictive concoction of body heat and earth. he chuckles, scarred edge of his mouth lifting, crooked and perfect, and nods, throwing his shirt over his tan shoulder.

he looks past you into the living room and eyes the sofa, crossing his arm. they're thick with muscle and tendons, all sinewy. hard to the touch, probably, if you reached out and traced your fingers over them, but his skin must be soft and hot, like a cozy blanket, onyx hairs covering them—the same kind that hugs his chest and lower back, right under the dimples there.

"mhm. but ya've got a perfectly good one there. you break it or somethin'?" he teases.

your laughter is light and airy like butterfly wings. he's funny, too, when he wants to be—it's so easy to be you around him, to let him in on what's on your mind and how you have been doing. it's a friendship you're grateful for, and one you'd hate to ruin.

it would be hard to prove you were thinking with your head when you stepped closer—close enough to smell the cologne and salt—and reached out your hand. dragged your index finger down a chiseled line seperating his abdominals. joined it with your middle finger and rubbed the skin above his belt, the moist tuft of hair there. dipped them beneath the waistband, fingertips barely brushing the denser mass of hair there.

is this too far—are you ruining a delicate, good thing? are you being too ridiculous—too bold and too loud, like a sheep in wolf's skin? he's older than you—probably smarter than you, too. does he think of you like a yapping puppy at his heels, starved for his attention wandering aimlessly when you're not getting it?

"have you ever broken one before?"

your heart is thumping in your ears, picking up speed when he drops his gaze to the way your hand is moving, how it's teasing his skin. that might have been a bad line, and it could be the case that he doesn't really want you, either.

his eyes are dark and hooded when he looks back up at you. imperceptible. impenetrable.

for a moment, you picture the look of disappointment from the neighbor's kids when you tell them he won't be around anymore to pick them up and play pretend with them.

your other older neighbor fawns over him, about how nice he is—how he helps her take her groceries in and trims her hedges if he's not too busy. your maillady calls him your boyfriend when she speaks to you.

you'd bet that people at his work probably call him a standup guy—his colleagues probably know him as a good friend.

so why does he fuck you like he hates you?

your mouth hangs agape in a silent whimper, eyes nearly rolled back into your head as a wet, squelching smack reverberates through your living room. your hair is fisted back in a firm grip, jaw cradled almost reverently, but the heavy weight on your back is cruel with force, nearly suffocating you into the cushion of your couch as it wrecks your insides and stretches you 'till you feel a sob wracking through your chest.

it's unbearably overwhelming—his throaty, low grunts in your ear, the balmy, musky, smell of him, his thighs keeping you caged and pliant beneath him as he ruts into you, ravaging your clenching, desperate walls. if you had the mind to be embarassed, you would be at the sound of his balls kissing your throbbing clit, the smooch of it getting stickier the more he rolls into you.

"should've known," he murmurs, nuzzling your hair, lips at your ear. "should've known what you wanted. feel so fuckin' stupid, not knowin' you just wanted to get fucked. that why you're so twitchy 'round me, baby? so antsy? hmm?"

your hands seek purchase in the couch and his arm around your neck, the nails of one sinking into soft material, the other in taut skin. you nod mindlessly, squeaky moans bordering on pathetic.

"fuuuck, toji, please—so good, s-so good," you babble, your head too heavy, face too warm. your cunt reflexively tightens, over and over, like it recognizes the thick shaft taunting your walls as an intruder, like it's trying to force him out. "s-so big, and... and—"

"y'should've just told me, sweetheart," he tuts, like he's talking about fixing a leak and not bare and seated in your guts. "listen to her—how happy she is to meet me, baby. y'didn't have to deny yourself like that."

he hums at your warbling tone, at the soft, plaintive way you're stumbling over your own words. his hand covers yours, thumb rubbing your flesh—a tender gesture if he wasn't so deep in your fluttering hole that the swollen head was nearly bumping where it couldn't go. his lips brush the shell of your ear before his chin tucks into the junction of your shoulder.

the constant sawing of his cock, the way it completely congests you without any wiggle room—how his pelvis is slippery and deft as it propels his girth deeper. it's too much—and it's not enough. you need to conjoin, to melt together as one.

the sounds that escape you are debasing, and you're helplessly close to the brink—so close that your pussy is starting to spasm and convulse and he can tell just how far gone you are; just how fucked-out he has you. he's making you his—owning you.

"gonna come—'m gonna come, toji," you slur, dignity replaced with your eagerness to get off, hips failing to buck under his oppressive weight as his own grind into your ass. "'s so good, need you to come inside me, pleaaaase—"

"shit, she's all wet and swollen. 'course 'm gonna come in this pretty pussy, baby." he groans, the smack of your bodies becoming white noise as you pulse around him. "such a good girl, beggin' t'get filled up."

it hadn't occured to you before that pleasant, family-oriented men can fuck the air out of your lungs until he'd gotten you reeling and messy under him.

the hair at the base of his dick is coated in your slick, and before that, your drool, from when you'd knelt between his thighs and let your tongue follow the divots on his leaking, hard shaft, over the slit at the tip.

you'd made quick work of pulling his pants and boxers down and nosing into his balls—and he'd wasted no time pulling your viscid panties from your folds and eating you out like he'd been dreaming of doing it. it was simple—straightforward, just like him.

his hand slides down your body, fondling your skin until he's circling your sopping clit, and it's enough—you tremble around his thickness, barely even able to whine as release crashes through you.

it's enough for him, too.

he locks his big arms around your neck and burrows his face into your hair. he rails into you, hips losing their composure as he seeks his own pleasure, the offensive sound of your conjoined bodies meeting a feverpitch.

"god, gonna fill up this pussy, give her what she's been needing. gonna fuckin' breed you—"

he bottoms himself fully inside you. you gasp, it hurts, almost, but he's just groaning and then it gets hot and creamy, and your arousal is mixing with his own, and he's fucking it into you until you're mewling and your heels are nudging his ass, lids falling shut. he loses his rhythm, puffing hot breaths behind your ear.

when he stops pumping, his cock softening within you, he takes his hand from your clit—tilts your jaw with it and starts kissing your face all over, wet and cozy over your cheeks and eyelids. tastes the tears staining under your eyes, brushes the fair from your face. when he pulls out, you sniffle, voice broken.

the neighborhood is still—sleepy, especially for the early afternoon. the sunlight swaddles the living room in a hazy blanket, illuminating the wood of your windows.

the yard does look really clean.

you're disembodied, in a sense—on another plane, and here, under deep, even breathing and soft touches. fingers push your hair back from your face when you rest your cheek on the couch cushion.

you peek up at your friend—can you use that word to describe him, now? do friends fuck each other stupid into couches (still standing and perfectly unbroken, by the way)?

"thanks," you mumble, a half-whisper, "for coming over and mowing my lawn."