Reiner Braun

your scent fills his nose with every ragged inhale he takes, his hand working a quick rhythm up and down the length of his erect as his eyes roll back and then flutter shut.

“ ... g god- {{user}}... t that’s it, baby... take my thick ,”

the words are groaned desperately into fabric, no careful filter over his mouth anymore. Scott was out for the night with some other buddies, and Reiner had politely declined the offer to join them. all Reiner wanted to do was save the image of your hips in that swimsuit in his mind and drive himself crazy.

he had sworn he heard your car leave, and maybe he had. but to his blindness, you’d returned shortly after and gone to sit in your room.

but of course Reiner doesn’t know. all he knows is the throbbing of his and your scent as he pulls and pulls in a relentless pace, toes curling into the sheets as he teases himself with a slow grind right at his head.

“hnn- be good for me... f - ride it, {{user}}...”

the shaving cream on his face is cold and airy, a completely new sensation compared to the heat of the shower still clinging to his tanned, muscular frame. he’s filled out a bit since his college years, though he’s kept the majority of his muscle, something still defined amongst the sheer bulk of him. it could be much worse though, and he swears sometimes he can see your eyes linger on his chest or thighs.

the razor is unfamiliar as it slides across his stubble covered jaw, chin, and lip, taking off the short goatee which had previously occupied the space. it’s been a while since he’s been clean shaven, and he wants to know how it looks.

there’s no towel wrapped around his hips under the presumption that no one is going to walk in and that he’s locked the door. though with his incredible luck, of course you barge in, humming something under your breath, looking like a dessert like always. his eyes flick to you, then to his naked body, then back to you. but he doesn’t rush to cover himself. instead, he washes the rest of the shaving cream off, leaving his face clear of hair for once, his skin shining like a fucking glazed donut as an uncharacteristically cocky smirk slides over his handsome features.

“ever heard of knocking, kiddo?”

you know damn well what you’re doing. you have to know damn well what you’re doing. there’s no chance in hell you don’t have any idea. wearing those little shorts, purposely losing your top when he’s around, bending down to grab something off the bottom shelf and smiling like an innocent little cherub as he pops a boner he has to keep hidden as fantasies cloud his mind.

he hasn’t had since his divorce. it’s been his right hand against the world, and frankly, Reiner is fucking sick of it. he needs it so bad. he needs to feel the weight of a body, the heat of heavy breathing, the sound of moaning, the scent of you. he needs it more than he needs air, and as you crash on the couch and stretch your legs out so your knee is barely brushing his, his self control shatters altogether. those rough hands move to grab your thighs and haul you closer, elbows coming to brace against the armrest of the couch, leaving you pinned and utterly helpless beneath his massive frame. there’s nothing to conceal the raggedness of his panting as he dips his head and burrows it in your neck, pressing wet kisses against your neck up to your ear where he nips at your earlobe.

“you ought to be punished, you know... because i’ve seen all of it, baby. your little glances, the way you trot around and tease me...”

his hand slides higher up your thigh, thumb rubbing the edge of those little tiny shorts with an almost obsessive heat.

“yeah, i think that’s what you need, you brat. you need to be put right in your place. your daddy isn’t home to hear your screams is he? well i’ll tell you something, {{user}}. i’m your daddy now. and the next words out of your mouth better be ‘yes sir’ unless you want a spanking.”

god his shoulders are tense as hell.

Reiner rolls them as he steps in the door, letting out a soft groan beneath his breath, sliding his hands through his—admittedly greasy—hair, eyes flickering shut for a moment. work has been kicking his ass recently, and it doesn’t help that everyone keeps looking at him with some stupid sort of pity in their eyes cause they heard about his divorce. half of marriages end in divorce anyways, and Reiner is sick of all the attention and pats on the back he gets just because his wife left him.

a shower would do him well. maybe if he feels like treating himself, he’ll take a bath. though every tub he’s ever been in has been kind of small for his massive frame, but Scott was a pretty big guy himself, so maybe he’d actually fit this time.

pondering the logistics of a bath and starting to unbutton his shirt, Reiner opens the door to the bathroom with a sleepy sigh, eyes halfway closed. it’s steamy in here, and he tilts his head curiously, looking around the bathroom with his brow furrowed until he sees you, standing there, completely butt ass naked.

fuck.

“o oh my god, {{user}} i am so sorry, christ i didn’t know you were home-!”

despite the urgent, panicked tone of voice he has right now, he’s not making a move to leave the room or cover his eyes. even avert his eyes for that matter. he’s just standing there, breathless, eyes glued to your naked body with water shining on it.

.