kill the part of you that cringes

Fingernails digging into your hips, Reiner slammed back into you from behind, watching your ass bounce against his hips– and, more importantly, your curls bounce against your upper back.

Reiner absolutely adored your curls. Whenever you would cuddle, he would twist your curls around his fingers, watching them spring back to normal once he let go.

Despite your protests and complaints about how he would cause frizz, Reiner didn’t stop. Your hair mesmerized him.

But above all, his favorite thing is getting to watch your curls bounce and splay around your shoulders whenever he fucks you from behind. In fact, it’s grown to be his favorite position purely because of your hair.

“Reinerrr…” you groaned, arms sore and tired from holding your lower half up in the air for him for so long.

He kept his brutal pace, fat tip hitting deep inside you with every thrust. Reiner had to hold himself back from reaching out to play with your curls mid-act. Watching them just wasn’t enough.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, breathing growing ragged and thrust becoming slower, “so fucking beautiful.”

Reiner slid one hand down to your pussy, rubbing your clit in gentle circles to make up for his slowed pace. He would drag his cock back out slow, and then slam back into without warning just to watch your hair bounce.

“O-oh god, Rei- nghhh I’m gonna cum!” Whimpers becoming pathetically loud, the coil in your tummy snapped, sending your orgasm crashing over you.

Reiner hissed, pulling out, giving his dick a few strokes before shooting a hot load of cum onto your lower back.

“I hope that didn’t get in my hair,” you mumbled, relaxing from your bent position, asleep arms finally coming back to life.

“I would never. Don’t you trust me not to mess with those perfect curls?” Reiner wiped your back off with a tissue off the nightstand, tossing it. He pulled you to his side, strong arms holding you close.

“I guess,” you murmured, voice muffled from your face in his chest. Reiner chuckled, already starting to play with your curls again, not stopping until you both fell asleep.

It was clear to everyone– Reiner had lost a good twenty pounds throughout the years before the Rumbling. You noticed as well, and were worried.

But it’s been three years since then, and Reiner has definitely gained back his lost weight.

To put it simply, he looked delicious.

The love handles he had whenever he wore tighter pants, the huge amounts of muscle he had all over his body. He had never looked better, to be honest.

Entering his room on the ship, you find Reiner shirtless, staring at himself in the mirror.

“Paradis is within view.” You shut the door, walking over to where he was standing, glancing at the two of you in the mirror.

“Do you think I’ve gained back too much weight?” The question was sudden; you had assumed Reiner was happy with his current weight.

“What?” Grabbing his shoulders, you turn Reiner away from the mirror, forcing him to look at you. “Why would you say that? You looked incredible, Reiner.”

He shrugs in response, expression solemn. “I don’t know. I just feel like I have too much fat on me, and-“

“Stop it,” you cut him off, voice firm. “You’re not overweight. You’re strong and the muscle you have adds a lot to what you weigh.”

Sliding your hands down his chest, you pay close attention to his pecs and abs, tracing small patterns on his skin with your finger.

“I just want to see you healthy. You put on the weight you needed, and I prefer you with a little extra on you. You look strong and intimidating.”

Reiner finally smiles, a small blush on his face. “Thank you, that means a lot.”

“Get dressed,” you nod towards his dress shirt, which is slung over the bed frame. “It won’t be long until we’ve docked.”

The first time Satoru Gojo realizes he made a mistake is when he can’t find you on campus.

At first he thinks it’s funny.

You’ve always been easy to find. The west library corner seat by the window. The campus café at 10:30 with a vanilla latte and that same notebook you pretend isn’t a diary.

But after the breakup?

You vanish.

Not metaphorically.

Literally.

Your Instagram, phone number, Snapchat — blocked.

He stares at his phone in the Alpha Tau living room while music blasts around him and someone hands him another drink.

Blocked.

“Damn,” one of the guys laughs. “She actually did it.”

Gojo scoffs like it doesn’t matter. “I’ll get her back,” he says cockily.

Like he’s not the one who said it. I need to focus on football.

The lie sounded convincing at the time. The scouts were watching. His coach kept yelling about discipline. Everyone said relationships were a distraction.

So he broke up with you.

Clean and quick.

Two weeks later, he’s drunk at three different frat parties, shamefully sneaking out of sorority house hookups before the sun even rises.

And somehow that’s when he realizes something feels wrong.

———-

The First Attempt

He tries texting.

It doesn’t go through. Still blocked.

He laughs to himself. “Dramatic much.”

But that night he still walks across campus toward the all-girl dorms.

Except the front desk girl just shrugs. “She’s not here.”

Gojo frowns, “What do you mean she’s not here?”

“Means she’s not here.”

He stands outside the dorm building for ten minutes before leaving.

The next day he tries again. Still no sight of you.

Flowers

A week later a bouquet arrives at your dorm. White lilies and baby’s breath.

Attached card: —SG <3

He doesn’t even know if you like lilies. You used to talk about flowers sometimes, but he never listened carefully enough to remember, and now he regrets it.

The desk girl tells him later you picked them up without saying a word.

Still no message back.

The Letters

Then the letters start. The handwritten notes made him feel romantic, he was sure this would get a response out of you.

The first one is simple.

I know you blocked me. I deserve it.

Let me know if you wanna talk

-Satoru <3

No response.

The second one is longer.

I didn’t break up with you because I stopped loving you. I thought I was doing the responsible thing.

Please unblock me xoxo

The third one is messy.

He writes it at 2 AM after a party he left early because some girl laughed too loud in a way that sounded a little too much like you.

I keep looking for you around campus.

You used to sit by the west library window. I checked yesterday. You weren’t there. Are you avoiding me?

- Toru

Your Favorite Snacks

The dorm desk starts receiving packages. Your favorite chocolate. Spicy chips.

Strawberry gummies you always bought from the vending machine during late-night study sessions.

Deliveries of your favourite bubble tea.

The desk girl starts recognizing his name. “Another one from the football guy. I told him you weren’t here again like you asked.”

Meanwhile

Gojo’s reputation doesn’t change. He’s still the star player. Still the loud one at parties. Still the guy everyone thinks has everything.

But lately he keeps checking doorways. Scanning crowds at football games. Looking for someone who isn’t there.

The First Time He Sees You Again

It’s raining. He’s leaving practice when he spots you across the quad under a blue umbrella.

For a second he thinks he imagined it.

But then you look up. And your eyes meet his.

The look on your face isn’t anger. It’s worse.

It’s indifference.

You turn and keep walking. Gojo’s heart drops straight into his stomach. He can’t let you escape after all this time of chasing you.

“Hey—!”

You stop slowly. You look over your shoulder. “…What?” Your voice is calm.

Gojo suddenly forgets every speech he rehearsed. “I—did you get the letters?”

“Yes.”

“…And?…will you please talk to me?”

You stare at him for a long moment “Goodnight, Gojo.”

Then you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the rain, watching you disappear.

A;DLKFJA;LDKJFALJKLAJFDFLKAJ

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jean is a man who takes his time to FULLY APPRECIATE a woman's outfit. He'll start with soft, sweet, slow kisses from cheek, down your throat to your collarbone, down your chest, your tummy, your hips (he gives you a little bite here), down your thigh, your calves, until he gets to that delicious ankle of yours and slowly unbuckles the strap and takes your shoes off.

FANCY THAT .ᐟ.ᐟ ft. firelord!suguru

based on this fanart by @/matzusaga on ig

ruling a nation is hard. good thing he has you – his beloved wife, and personal stress relief after especially hard days. 

when urgent matters turned from a day away from you to three, and then three days to a week, you got worried. 

"nothing that concerns you, love," he mutters, watching the way your lips spread to take him wider. your cheek presses against his inner thigh as you get comfortable. 

his dark strands tickle your forearm as the back of his head meets the onsen wall. your gaze flickers up, watching how he slams a hand over his mouth. the other flexes, clenching and unclenching fervently, before finally cupping your jaw. 

you jump at the feverish warmth of his palm as your mouth vibrates against him. firebending leaves his hands constantly heated. even now, it’s something you’re still getting used to. 

he tries to be a gentleman.

really, he does. 

composed, poised, graceful – all words used to describe the man in front of you. 

suguru definitely embodies these qualities. 

so well you don’t even realize how badly he’s falling apart right now. your tongue dances along the length of his cock, grazing that soft spot in the back of your throat. 

saliva drips down your nightgown, leaving you breathless when you pull back.

he nearly loses it. 

and without thinking, suguru thrusts – hitting the back of your throat and leaving your eyes glossy when you look up at him. 

his chest heaves.

once. 

then twice. 

your tongue runs along the base and back up, leaving a soft kiss at his leaking tip. he tilts his head down, hair disheveled from unraveling under you. 

“missed me this badly, love?”

you nod slowly, eyes glued to his. 

“yes, my lord,” you mumble. your hand finds its way to your dampened undergarments, sliding past the waistband and touching exactly where you’ve needed him. 

for a week. 

it’s a surprise that either of you lasted this long. 

his gaze dips lower, where your hand disappears into the lace. you whimper as your fingers meet that sensitive nub, slick and aching all for him. suguru opens his mouth to speak, breath catching at how your hair falls in your face as you grind against your hand. 

a smile tugs at his lips as he brushes a strand out your face. 

“you’ve been suffering without me, haven’t you?” he says softly, caressing your cheek. 

a gasp escapes as you chase that growing feeling in your core. you nod again, praying that you finally catch it. 

“sugu–,” you pout. “y-you left me alone… for a week.” 

he leans down, face level with yours. 

“my apologies, beloved,” he nods, kissing your temple. his lips trail down to your cheek, peppering kisses along your cheek. 

his fingers curl beneath your chin, guiding your head back slowly. the angle leaves your throat exposed immediately. suguru hums at the sight before pressing a kiss beneath your jaw. 

“you waited so patiently for me too.”

© keistriction 2026 ─ do not plagiarize or feed to ai

NDBJKDBHHJCBSDC

FBKJDFKBHSKDHFBD

Warnings - milf reader, fingering, squirting, oral (m receiving) spitting and kinda cute tbh hehe

Satoru Gojo is the top masseuse at this fine establishment - he's the best at giving his clients the happiest endings. Yet you are by far the most tense damn girl he's ever touched.

"Shit, you're all locked up," he mumbles, those long fingers gliding across your muscles, pressing into your skin with that jasmine scented oil. "You good, sweetheart?"

"Mmm, not really," you mumble, sucking in a breath when he starts pressing harder on your sore, aching muscles. "Ah! You're so rough!"

"Well normally I just finger girls, you actually need a damn massage," you snort and he chuckles a bit, pausing when you turn your head to look at him, pretty eyes all dilated.

You're so fucking pretty.

This elegant pretty that comes from being in your late twenties that is his weakness - Satoru is twenty three but he loves a thirty year old milf. He just can't help his tastes, really, especially when they blush all sweet like you.

He's no poor college student trying to make it, no - he's rich enough to buy this entire spa twenty times over. Satoru is here for the joy of it, carpal tunnel and all can't stop him from making sure he got these clients off. Nothing really is as fulfilling as watching a woman come apart under his long fingers.

Making them squirt is truly a fucking art form.

But he never has felt this much tension, he's having to put his actual skills to use for once - and honestly? Satoru was better at fingering than rubbing backs.

He tugs that tiny towel down, till it's barely covering your ass, thumbs gliding in on those cute dimples. He vividly pictures how pretty your hips would be in his big ass hands - breedable hips that are wreaking havoc on his brain.

He's usually pretty unaffected, used to this, but the way you arch and whine out fucks him up.

Satoru kneads those thumbs into your hips now, a couple stretch marks right on them making him throb - he's not kidding when he says he loves a milf. You're gasping out, little filthy sound ruining him, he can't help but raise a brow.

"Hmm, husband not doing it for you?"

"I'm separated now..." You mumble, peeking at that spot your wedding band left a line.

You're still technically 'married' to your shitty husband Naoya, who had always been terrible, but recently fucked someone right in your bed, and had the utter audacity to act offended when you left. So what better to cheer you up, then to have someone work all that frustration out?

"Bad split?"

"You could say that..." you can't stop arching up a more, he takes the hint and slides his hands up your ribcage, eliciting a soft little moan.

Fingers glide down the sides of your breasts, your cunt is dripping wet then - the very recent memory of your cheating husband washed away with every glide of long fingers on your skin.

"You like me touching right here, sweetheart?" He asks softly. you moan, nodding. "Then turn around for me."

18+

kafka stares up at you, words dying a spectacular death somewhere in the back of his throat as his jaw silently works around what's left of his absent thoughts. he wonders if maybe, just maybe, he hit his head a little too hard during training earlier.

something wet hits his cheek, and his dick throbs where it's currently trapped beneath the steady pressure of your abdomen rocking against his own.

you moan, the sound muffled by the two thick fingers currently trapped between your lips, and kafka thinks he could live with the fact that cumming in his pants would really be one of the least embarrassing things he's done lately, all things considered.

he feels a hot, wet trail of sticky spit work its way down the middle digit, sliding down past his wrist, and he swallows hard, nearly biting his tongue in the process. because if his fingers weren't otherwise occupied borderline fucking your mouth, he thinks he'd probably find his own mouth panting against the sloppy mess you've left in his palm.

What about Whitebeard??

omg another whitebeard