Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You’re out of the shower, quickly typing a reply to Pieck that you’ll hang out with her later this evening. Wrapped in nothing but the wet towel, you pass the living room and out of the corner of your eyes, you see someone sitting on the couch. Which isn’t unusual because you’re sharing the flat with Jean, Jeanie, whom you’ve grown up with; who’s seen you naked since you can’t even remember so that it isn’t even sexual anymore.

But draped over the couch, one leg thrown over the armrest, isn’t Jean, and when your eyes lock with sharp, viridian eyes, you feel your face tighten, the corners of your lips curl as if you’ve bitten into a lemon. As if you’ve eaten that whole damn thing.

Eren Jaeger cocks an eyebrow, allows his eyes to roam your body from head to toe, back up to your head while leisurely taking a break at your thighs, your hips, your tits, the curve of your neck where you feel a cool drop make its way down to your cleavage. Eren eats it all up with his eyes. And grins.

“Jean!” you holler and stomp to the end of the corridor, kicking his door open. He’s searching for something, probably that comfy maroon hoodie you hide at the back of your wardrobe and refuse to return. “Next time you wanna bring someone over, text me.”

Jean barely spares you a glance, diving into the laundry heap by his bed. “Pretty sure Eren’s seen enough people naked. He doesn’t mind.”

“I. Mind,” you hiss through gritted teeth. “This isn’t his apartment.”

“Yeah, yeah, you seen my hoodie? The dark red one?”

You back out of his room and close the door—and walk right into Eren who’s leaning against the doorframe to your room, hands in his pockets like he owns this place.

You want to smack him. You also kinda want to kiss him. Which doesn’t mean much, you also want to kiss Pieck and a bunch of other people. Only there’s something about Eren in particular that’s like an itch you can’t scratch.

“Need help?”

“With what? Getting dressed?” You try to make him move out of your way by pushing but he remains rooted to his spot, his muscles hard and unyielding under your touch. So familiar. Only his mouth curls into a mocking grin. So you push past him, the towel brushes against his clothes and you make double sure it’s not in danger of slipping off. “I’m good.”

“It would be my pleasure.” He stands before you, his eyes glinting, his smile headlong, boyish, utterly irresistible. Why does he have to make it so hard for you to keep your word. It’s one-night stand, not n-night stand. Not that you’re actually considering a second time. Absolutely not.

“Yeah, it will be your pleasure,” you say, hand reaching out to him. Eren visibly tenses in eager anticipation. “Your pleasure to shut up and begone, thot.” And you close the door right in his face.

Temptation. What a dangerous thing.

Eren on the other hand, temptation his middle name, will lie in his bed that evening, part of his shirt tucked between his teeth, and fuck into his fist, thinking of the short towel clinging to your wet skin, of your soft curves just waiting for his touch under the thin fabric. God, he wanted to bend you over and dick you down so bad, uncaring that Jean was in the next room. He still remembers that party at Connie’s, how he pressed you against the bathroom mirror, pushing you so hard against the sink it left dark bruises on your hips. The glare you sent him through the mirror, defiant even though he’s fucked half your brain out; the little ah, ah, ahs he punched out of you with every hard thrust echoing in the room, sounding so delicious.

His mind is hazy with thoughts of taking you on every surface he can find, fold you in half, push his dick into your tight hole and watch your squirm, shudder, break apart beneath him. Precum drools from his flushed tip. His hand isn’t enough, doesn’t come even close to your wet, warm walls. Why did you have to be so stingy with your stupid one-night-means-one-night policy. Eren gets it, some people you want to leave behind, but evidently, he has a hard time moving on from what he’ll shamelessly admit was one of the best fucks he’s had in a long time.

His phone dings once beside him. Usually he wouldn’t care to see who’s bothering him until he’s done jacking off, but your name flashes on his screen, and Eren immediately grins like a kid on Christmas Eve. His cock twitches in his hand.

[pillow brat]: tomorrow night. jean’s out. bring condoms

Eren will do you one better. He grabs his phone, opens the camera app and makes sure his dick looks gorgeously heavy and flushed in his open palm. The shaft glistening with slick, one glossy pearl of precum on his tip, he sends the picture, immediately seeing two blue ticks for read.

[eren]: how about right now?

As always, you don’t disappoint.

[pillow brat]: i’ll be there in fifteen. don’t get off yet.

Chapter Text

At this point, Eren is just fucking with you. You know it, he knows it, and you both know it isn’t the type of fucking that you want.

You slam your thumb into the bell, hear the electric buzz and hope the whole student dorm goes up in flames because someone misplaced an electric wire. It doesn’t, and you’re left to wait in the freezing cold, the cutting wind that picks up and whips your hair left and right.

Thirty seconds, and then you’re gone. Big dick or not, if Eren thinks he can leave you blue-balled and freezing, he can call for another bimbo and let her jerk him off. Even though you were really looking forward to it, and the picture he sent you was a nice reminder of a good friend you’re missing. Just thinking about it ignites a fire between your legs, makes your mouth water.

You hope you’ll leave his place on shaking legs tomorrow.

After another painful, long minute out in the cold, the intercom finally comes to life. Eren’s voice, even through the static, is deep and raspy.

“Who goes there?”

“Open the door, Jaeger.” Your patience is needle-thin. There’s a moment of silence, one dreadful, short moment in which you know Eren is thinking about every way possible that he can be an ass.

He doesn’t disappoint.

“State your business, and I might think about it.” The audible grin in his voice drives you mad. You know what he wants, and you didn’t wake up this morning for Eren to play you like a fiddle. Looking left and right, finding the entrance to the dormitory empty, with a voice drier than autumn leaves swept to the ground, you say, “I’m here to fuck you, Eren Jaeger.”

“Don’t sound too excited about it.” You imagine him standing there, bare-footed probably because he’s an animal like that, and rolling his eyes. But the door buzzes a second later. You shoulder it open, engulfed by the warmth, and find Eren’s apartment number on the mailbox lined up opposite from the elevator.

420.

The joke is blaring so loud it isn’t even funny.

Feeding him a taste of his own medicine, you choose the slow ascent of the staircase, and every floor you pass sends your heart beating higher and higher until your anticipation beats in your throat. Last time, after Eren was done with you, you had looked like you got mauled by someone which isn’t that far from the truth considering Eren fucks like he plays his overrated sports games. Like he’s got everything to lose.

He’s waiting for you, leaning against the door frame, hands in his pocket and barefooted—almost the definition of casual indifference. When you stand before him, he doesn’t move, just like earlier this day where he’s been an inconvenience in your own apartment.. He smiles slowly, a cat’s smile as it faces the mouse and contemplates how best to slay it.

Eren leans forward, his green eyes gleaming. His face is predatory, but his voice is gentle. “Didn’t take you long at all to get here. Needy, are we?”

You take another step closer, your chest almost touching his. Almost, because you’re a good head smaller than him. “I wasn’t the one fucking into my own hand all by myself,” you say, voice silky and calm like a lake’s surface on a windless day.

Amusement flickers in his eyes, brightens them before a shadow falls again. “But you couldn’t wait until tomorrow. You had to come as soon as I sent you a picture of my cock.”

It’s cute that he thinks he’s the sly fox, when every animal living in the forest knows that the most fearsome creature is the huntress wearing her prey’s fur coat. “And if we stopped talking,” you say, your fingers grazing where his shirt covers his solid, taut abdomen, “I might actually cum tonight.”

Eren smiles slowly, like the moon slipping slowly behind dark, heavy clouds. He steps aside, allowing you to enter the lion’s den.

You have barely time to take off your coat before Eren’s hands are all over you. He spins you around, hands cupping your face to tilt it back, granting him full access to your hot mouth, his own bruisingly hard. Restraint has never been a concept known to him, even though it looks so good on him—he’s tense in all the right places.

Without any preamble, his tongue explores your mouth, his teeth holding your bottom lip. One hand slides to your neck, his big, rough fingers cupping your throat gently—deceptively so, as he presses his hard, tall body against yours as if he’s trying to mould you into him.

Your fingers claw at his shirt tucked in his sweatpants, eager and impatient as you chase his mouth. He lifts his arms, letting you take his shirt off. You’re in no hurry to turn away your appreciative gaze from the hard dips and valleys of his body, the sharp v-line on his narrow hips. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, arms the size of your thighs and you remember clearly how they flexed when he held you in place in Connie’s bathroom weeks ago—all taut cord and strong muscles.

Eren looks glorious, like a mortal that Gods would sacrifice their own immortality for—if he wasn’t a Greek God himself. Impulsive and horrible, but pouring his everything into the one thing bringing him joy. Like playing with you.

It has your knees weak in anticipation and want. Your breath catches in your throat when Eren lowers his face to your neck, brushes where your pulse pounds with hungry teeth and hot lips curved into a sharp, wicked smile.

Out of the corner of your eyes you spot the couch in the adjacent living room. With your mouth still on his, you push him towards it, tip-toeing after him. Clearly amused, Eren lets you handle him whichever way you want. For now. His back hits the couch’s cushion as he falls into it, automatically spreading his legs for you to step between them, curling one hand around the loose, soft hair at the back of his neck.

Now Eren is the one tilting his head back to look up at you, the sight far from unpleasant as his eyes dip down to the low cut of your cleavage. Funny, how he looks at you as if you are the Goddess and he’d sacrifice anything for just a minute between your legs, in your arms.

“Eager, are we?” he says, his broad hands splayed wide on your hips as you crawl atop him, leaning down to pepper hasty, open-mouthed kisses on his sharp jawline, to lick and suck at the pulse point where you can feel the beating of his heart.

“Do me a favour,” you say into the crook of his neck, “and shut up. Just let me have my fill, okay?”

Eren thinks about that for a moment. His hands roam from your hips to your ass, squeeze once, twice. And then they fall away, back to his sides, and you hate how much you already hate the loss of them. “Sure. But you have to give me a good show, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “Whatever.”

You’re too eager, too hungry for a good fuck to notice. If you had taken one moment to look into his eyes, to see what is lurking behind those sharp, marble green eyes, you would have realised that you were about to get into far more than you bargained for.

You would have known asking Eren for anything is like summoning up the devil. The devil might grant your wish, but afterwards, you’re out of a soul.

But you don’t spend a second questioning his laid back, easy willingness (nothing about Eren Jaeger is easy), not with the constant throbbing between your legs; certainly not with the visible outline of his hard dick that jolts when your fingertips graze him.

Shuffling closer, your knees hitting the back of the couch, closing around Eren’s waist, you lower your hot, still-clothed pussy onto his bulge straining through his pants. Just that contact makes Eren groan, makes drool collect at the corners of your mouth. You slide against his clothed crotch, dry-humping his dick in slow, hard rolls, one hand splayed flat against his lower abdomen so you can feel every time it flexes and hardens when he rocks up into you.

His fingers hook under the hem of your sweater. With a swift motion, he pulls it off, hands immediately drawing to your tits like magnets pulled in, fitting perfectly. He squeezes them, pinches your hardened nipples through the fabric of your lace bra as you speed up rolling your hips against his.

Eren pinches the fabric of your flared skirt between his fingers and lifts it, watching you move against his hard dick, a lazy, content smile spreading on his face like a cat that’s found a comfortable spot in the warm sun and is in no hurry to leave.

That placid light in his eyes quickly turns into a wicked gleam though when he sinks his fingers into your tights, right at your crotch, and yanks the fabric apart. The ripping sound is like a gunshot, breaking your rhythm as your hips stutter. More heat pools into your belly—a delicious mixture between arousal and anger.

“You owe me a new one, asshole,” you grunt, digging your fingers into his arms. Eren just grins, one hand getting a firm hold of your waist to keep you moving.

Soon, the friction isn’t enough. You prop yourself up on his arms, one hand sliding down between your legs where you slide the fabric of your underwear to the side. You don’t miss how Eren’s eyes are glued to the thin thread connecting your drooling cunt with your slip. He’s raising his hips to shuffle out of his own pants just enough for his cock to spring free, hitting his lower stomach. He’s holding your half-lidded gaze, curling his fingers around his hard, long dick. Oh, how much you’ve missed him, and you can’t help but stare at his girth, the thick vein running along the underside—

“Don’t start drooling now,” Eren says, laughing quietly to himself.

“You wish,” you mumble, and very discreetly try to swallow the spit that’s pooling in your mouth.”

You collect the slick of your arousal and spread it on your warm, soft pussy, pads of your fingers circling your clit slowly as you watch Eren pumping his cock just as slow—lazy strokes from where his balls rest, up to the angry flushed tip of his cock. Your thighs clench as you hold yourself up, immediately stuffing two fingers inside your throbbing hole. The stretching burns, but you can’t help and sigh at finally filling yourself.

Eren still holds onto your waist. His throat flexes when he swallows, eyes riveted on your drooling cunt.

“Want me to do it?” he asks, noticing the uncomfortable angle of your wrist as you fuck your fingers inside you.

You sink your teeth into your lower lip. “Sure.”

Eren grins. “Say please.”

“Fuck you.”

“Preferable within the next hour, yeah.”

Your voice is dry, devoid of any emotion. “Oh, my darling Jaeger. Please.”

He squeezes your thigh, hard. “Good girl.”

Eren chuckles when your thighs jolt slightly at the praise, and you make it a point to hold his gaze when he challenges you to say something about it. When you don’t relent, he raises his fingers to your mouth, tapping the rough pads against your lips. “Open up.”

You roll your eyes but part your lips, sticking your tongue out slightly. Eren drags his fingers over your warm, wet tongue until his knuckles press against the corners of your mouth. His fingers are so deep in your mouth, too close to your throat, and you can feel tears well in your eyes.

Deeming his fingers sufficiently wet, he pulls his hand back and drops it between your legs where he slides his fingers between your wet folds, collecting your slick, and enters your weeping hole with one thick finger. Again, the stretch has your mouth open, your eyes half-closed. He sinks his finger knuckle-deep inside you, runs them along your hot, gummy walls. And then stills. You wiggle your hips, trying to encourage him to move, but Eren is immovable like a marble statue, watching you with hawkish eyes.

“Do you mind?” you ask, grabbing onto his wrist and sinking his finger deeper inside you.

Eren’s little laugh is dark. Condescending, even. “I’m just here for the show. If you wanna get off, you have to put in some work.”

The answer to that gets stuck in your throat when he curls his finger inside you. You glare at him, but fine. You don’t need him. You’ll just use him until you’ve had your fill and then go, see that he can hump his pillow or something.

“Oh, don’t make that face,” Eren coos, dragging a thumb over your jutted lower lip. “You look so cute pouting like that, it makes me want to be even meaner to you.”

He seals your mouth shut with his before you can throw an insult at him—or even worse, challenge him to actually be mean as the gnawing pit of hunger in your belly demands.

Now holding his wrist steady, you lift your hips agonisingly slow and sink back down, up, down. Up, and this time Eren sneakily bullies his second finger inside you, still not giving you any more friction than the one you create as you fuck yourself open on his fingers. Sometimes, when he’s feeling generous, he brushes your clit with his thumb—either in a slow, hard brush, or just a quick tap. It’s enough to drive you insane.

“You’re such … an asshole,” you hiss between gritted teeth, angling your hips this and that way to make his fingers brush against the bundle of nerves inside you that make you see stars.

“You like it,” Eren says a little breathless, dragging his thumb over your clit in a harsh swipe. His lips move along your cheekbone to your throat and you swallow a moan. “I like that you like it.”

“Shut up.” You smash your mouth on his, hungrily, just all teeth and tongue and whatever drool escapes the corners of his lips, your tongue travels that path until you nibble on his jawline, his chin, trying to bounce on his fingers until it isn’t enough and you feel that abysmal yearning for more, more, more eat you up from inside.

You yank his fingers out and take his cock, hard and hot, leaking at the tip, to align it with your sloppy cunt. Eren watches with glittering, wide eyes as you continue to roll your hips against his cock, slicking it up with your own arousal until it glistens in the dim light, thin threads of your slick connecting to his rock-hard shaft, clinging to the protruding vein at the underside.

He’s digging his fingers into your clothed thighs, holding your legs open. His breath grows laboured, drowned by the slick sound of you rubbing yourself on him, and you could swear there are hearts in his eyes as his mind drowns in the sight of your wet folds.

You aren’t doing any better. You can’t stop staring at his dark tip catching at your clit, pushing against it, and when you sink down to his balls, his shaft resting against your pubic mound, he stands hard and proud, almost all the way up to your navel.

You forgot how big he really is. But does that stop you? Of course not. Your mother raised no quitter, go big or go home, and if you can’t go home at all because you can’t walk after you’re done with Eren, nobody cares. Certainly not you.

Steadying your feet on the couch, you squat to align your hole with his cock, his fat tip kissing your entrance. Eren, the gentleman that he is, helps you by splaying his hands over your ass, sinking his fingers into the plump flesh. You both watch as you lower yourself slowly, your cunt swallowing his tip first—the breach has your mouth wide open, a silent cry and Eren grunting—then the rest of him, still moving so slowly that you can accommodate to the girth, the heavy feeling of him sliding inside you inch by inch, hot and heavy and thick.

“Wait, wait.” Eren holds you still, pausing your excruciatingly slow descent. He ignores the positively lethal glare you bend on him. “What about a condom?”

“Just pull out in time.” If he’s thinking he can hold you back from getting dicked down any longer, he’s so, so wrong. You wiggle your hips, gently bouncing in place on the upper half of his shaft, working yourself open. Eren throws his head back, his fingers digging into your ass at the friction, breathless laughter escaping his parted lips. You can see a dark line where he has bitten his bottom lip, or maybe you have bitten it.

“Because that worked out so well last time,” he says. Pictures flood the back of your half-closed eyes. The sink Eren had bent you over at Connie’s party, ploughing into you like an animal. And when he’d cum, his thighs shaking, his grip on your elbows pulling them back bruising, he’d filled you up to the brim, until it leaked down your legs, onto the floor. It had felt so warm, so good.

You grin. “Didn’t knock me up, did you?”

“Would you like that?” His voice is rough, scratchy. “For me to knock you up?”

You hate how your body betrays you, how you clench and he isn’t even all the way in. Eren chokes on a moan as your legs begin to shake at his sides. He pats your legs, encouraging you to continue your journey down on his cock. “What a beautiful answer,” he croons.

Your heart pounds in your ears. It is so, so hot; hot as if you’re burning up from the inside. Your face contorts slightly, the moan catching in your throat as his cock splits you open, forces your tight, clenching walls to part and take him in, accept him. Accept all that he’s giving you.

A warm hand gently slides up to the back of your neck. Your eyes flutter open—when did you close them?—shaking the tears loose that have collected at your lashes like morning dew clinging to curved leaves.

“Breathe,” Eren says, almost softly. Something warm skitters in your chest at the nearly caressing expression on his face. “You’ve done this before. You can do it again. You can take it.”

That warm feeling evaporates, quickly replaced by stinging annoyance. “Great advice, coach.”

When Eren grins at that, a little crookedly, the tight knot in your stomach eases a little. Maybe you aren’t the only one struggling right now. You try to relax, take one deep, shuddering breath. Allow yourself to sink down a little more, feeling the drag of his fat tip against your walls. When he’s finally, finally balls deep inside you, you take a moment to get used to his girth, gently rocking your hips back and forth.

Eren’s hands find their way back home around your thighs, nails digging into your flesh and leaving angry, crescent marks on your skin even through the fabric of your tights. His back against the cushion, head leaning slightly against the rest. Chest falling and rising with every deep breath, one hand steals between your spread legs and his thumb drags one of your lower lips to the side to allow him a spectacular few of where you’re pierced and drooling on his dick.

“Look at that,” he drawls, his voice gravely low. He’s smiling like he’s just won the lottery, a warmth in his eyes that has a prickly, pleasant feeling pooling in the pit of your stomach. The closest word you can think of how he looks at you is adoration. “See how much she missed me?”

“You’re so disgusting,” you mumble, but that doesn’t stop you from lifting your hips, up and further up until his leaking tip catches at your clenching hole. It doesn’t want to let him go. You don’t want to let him go.

You sink your fingers into his muscular arms to steady yourself and begin to bounce on his dick. Eren’s face, contorted with pleasure, deserves its own painting to commemorate it. His brows furrow, his jaw tenses. You watch the beads of sweat collect at his temples as you immediately take on a spine-breaking pace that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Good fucking cunt, treating me so well.” Eren’s smile has vanished, and the warm spark in his eyes is suddenly ablaze—a roaring fire, threatening to consume you. “Wish I could film this … put a camera right behind you and see your cunt swallowing my dick. Would you like that?”

No, you want to say. Instead, you moan, your body twitches for a second, and that is answer enough. Eren smiles placidly. “Of course you do.”

He frees your tits by yanking your lace bra down and stares at them bouncing whenever you sink down on him hard enough that you feel his dick in your throat. It feels like a fire is licking up from your knees up to your thighs. You have to put your knees down, get into a more comfortable position that won’t have you end up in the ER at the end of this night—

“Oh, no, no,” Eren coos when your knees sink into the cushion. He grabs onto them, lifting them again, slightly changing the angle at which you sink onto his cock. “Come on, be a good girl. Keep ‘em up. That’s right, just like that,” he adds when you dutifully return to bounce on his lap in a squatting position. “Just like that.”

You hate noticing how much your body reacts to his voice. You can hear him struggling too, his little grunts whenever you sink down completely, stuff your cunt with his monster of a cock. It all accumulates to the tight knot in your abdomen to tighten further, the pleasure a hard-clenched fist around your fuzzy mind.

“Oh God—God, I’m—I’m close,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders for leverage, feeling his muscles strain.

“Are you?” Eren places a warm hand at the back of your neck, pulling your forehead against his shoulder. “You’re doing such a good job, fucking yourself on my cock, such a good job,” he growls in your ear. “Come on, you can let go. You can cum.”

He tries and fails to sound as if he’s got it all under control, feeling you tipping closer and closer to the edge of becoming completely untethered—your walls tighten vice-like around his cock. He grits his teeth and grabs your ass harshly, moving you up and down, up and down, using you like a ragdoll and helping you bounce on his cock—he’s not even fucking you himself, just moving you like one of those pocket pussies, like you weight nothing and manhandling you all the way he pleases is nothing but child’s play.

His hot mouth maps out your temples, your cheekbones, your jaw. He kisses your cheek deceptively soft, and with a harsh, sharp whisper against your mouth he grunts, “You can cum like the good little slut that you are for me.”

Something inside you just snaps, something you’ve been trying to hold onto so desperately and finally, you’re free.

Eren slams you down on his cock when you cum so hard your whole body shakes, the tears clinging to your lashes finally rolling free, and he keeps you pierced on his cock, feeling every twitch and convulsion of your hot walls as your mouth falls open in a loud cry. His groan vibrates through his whole body as he continues to move your hips in shaky, desperate rolls, starving for more friction, more of your spasming walls.

When your sweaty body finally stills and you slump against him, Eren already begins to pull you off his dick and your battered pussy retaliates by clutching tightly around him as if saying Don’t go yet. I still need you inside me.

You’re hiding your face in the crook of his neck, patting weakly at his shoulder. “St-stop, wait … wait a second, please.” You’re still so sensitive, the slow drag of his cock is too much friction on your overstimulated, swollen cunt.

Eren mouths at your neck, his tongue running in lazy swipes over your skin. “Did you enjoy using me as your personal dildo?”

You whimper when his fingers dig in your thighs again. He yanks you off his dick, and you both stare at the thread of slick between your legs still connecting you two before Eren wipes his dick off on the inside of your thigh.

With a swift movement—with way too much control than you want to give him credit for, he rises to his feet, you still clinging to him with all your might. “’Cause now it’s my turn to use you as my cute, little cocksleeve.”

His words make you shake, your legs locking tight around his narrow waist. Eren carries you to this dark bedroom, and in true Eren fashion, he almost trips over a heap of dirty clothes lying by his bed and nearly breaks both your necks.

“Oops.” You can feel his boyish grin against your skin as he reaches over to the night stand where a lamp flickers to life, and before you can tell him to pick up his dirty, stinky clothes, his mouth is already back on yours. He spreads you on his sheets, pulls off your skirt, tights and underwear. You don’t notice your phone falling out of your pocket on the bed as he throws your clothes to the ground without any care, quickly followed by his own pants after he shakes them off.

And then Eren just looks at you for a moment. Takes all of you in with eyes starved and gleaming with something that might be unadulterated awe—as if you are an exhibit usually sealed away behind highly secured iron doors and finally, he has you all to himself.

It all takes less than a minute, but Eren’s hands fly back to your body as if you two have been apart for years. He lets them roam over every stretch and fold, his fingers tracing the curves of you, the dips and hollows of your body, his rough lips following closely after. Not an inch is spared by his hungry mouth—he sucks nasty bruises on your shoulders and collarbones, digs his fingers into wherever your soft skin yields as if he tries to leave imprints there, as though you are a thing fashioned from a potter’s hands and Eren is the artist.

Your tits fill out his warm, rough palm completely, a perfect match as he holds them and pinches your nipples, with his fingers first, then his teeth. He settles between your spread legs and kisses a trail down to your stomach, to your swollen cunt, where he presses his hot tongue flat against it.

“Wait, gimme just … five—five minutes,” you slur, digging your heels into his shoulders and trying to push him off, but Eren just grabs your ankle and holds your leg, spreading your further open.

“You gotta keep up, pretty girl,” Eren mouths against your wet folds. His tongue dips into your hole, followed by his fingers. “You had your fun, now it’s my turn. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name.”

A thrill of anticipation shoots up your spine, arching your back into a beautiful curve that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head—and looking right at the line of big-breasted figurines in skimpy outfits that don’t deserve to be called clothes.

“Oh my god,” you say, slumping back into the mattress. “I’m not going to fuck you with all your fake girlfriends watching us.”

Eren follows your gaze, lapping at your cunt, fingers plunging in and out of your hole in lazy movements, and if your hips slightly jerk against his face to create friction, you’ll deny any such thing ever happened.

He narrows his eyes. “Don’t you dare say that about Rei Ayanami.”

“What? That she’s not real?” Sometimes, with the way he acts like he’s a walking sex God, it’s easy to forget what a huge fucking nerd he is.

Eren pinches your thigh. “No need to be jealous. I’m paying attention to you now, aren’t I, baby?”

“It’s not about that.” As if Eren needed his ego more fed. “And anyway, isn’t Asuka way better?”

His eyes nearly sparkle. “Where have you been all my life?” He sighs and dives back between your legs. You didn’t think such simple words would have any impact on you, but here you are, heat scalding your ears.

“Oh, you are so pretty when you’re all embarrassed,” Eren croons. He kneads at your thighs, grabbing them hard as if they’re his personal anti-stress toy. “I can’t wait to see how you’ll look when I fuck you stupid.”

“I forgot,” you say dryly, “you can be such a romantic.”

“Any time.” Eren gives your clit tiny, sharp kitten licks with the tip of his tongue that have your legs twitching shut. A harsh slap from him on your thigh makes you jump. “Keep ‘em open for me.”

Your hand travels down to where he’s holding painfully hard onto your thigh, your fingers brushing and holding onto each other for a moment. If anyone else saw you, they might confuse you for lovers. That is until Eren leans back and spits on your cunt, spreading it with so much fondness as if he were putting paint on a gilded canvas.

“I hope you’re ready, baby girl,” Eren says to your cunt. “I’m gonna mess you up real good.” He places a last parting kiss on your clit, then flips you around, arranging you however he wants: on your knees, legs spread painfully wide, ass up, your face in his pillow.

You hug it closely to your chest, not daring to turn around. Your reward is a harsh slap to your ass that has you shuddering so hard your teeth rattle before Eren, pressing his thighs against yours, slides right back in, grunting low and content.

“Home, sweet home, baby,” he sighs, sliding in and in and in, and finally he’s fully back inside you, balls resting against your slick folds. You can’t help yourself—you giggle. At his joke, at him stretching you out blissfully. Who the fuck even cares anymore?

Finally, he moves, aaaall the way out, then aaall the way back in, and because patience isn’t a word in his dictionary, he begins to snap his hips against yours at a brutal pace. The stretch still feels impossibly good, every inch dragging over your sensitive walls and unravelling thought after thought until your mind is empty and only filled with Eren’s cock, Eren’s cock, Eren’s cock.

Eren laughs, driving you forward with every harsh thrust. You have to catch your body against his headboard before he smacks your head right against it with how rough he fucks you.

“What? Am I fucking you stupid? You feeling so good you can’t talk like a normal person?” he says, and to your horror you realise you must have said that out loud; must have worshipped his cock out loud.

You press your face into his pillow, and if you suffocate like this, you don’t care. It beats having to deal with the embarrassment of admitting how fucking good it feels, each relentless thrust that Eren puts so much force behind that you can’t stop mewling into his pillow. He fucks you good—so good, you want to forget your name.

Vrrrr. Vrrrr. It takes a long moment for your fucked out mind to understand what is happening. Eren, with his head still too clear for your liking, pauses for a moment. Still connected to you, rocking his hips gently into you, he digs around the blanket he’s half kicked off his bed. You’re still unable to comprehend. That is until you hear Eren’s snort behind you, and then he throws something right next to your head.

An incoming call on your phone set on vibration.

      Calling ID: my little pony 🐎

“Oh no,” you blurt, hand springing forward to decline the call.

“Oh yes.” Eren is faster. He seizes your wrist, unfairly easy with just one hand, and with his thumb, he swipes right to accept the phone call.

Your mouth goes dry as a desert.

“Ey, where the hell did you go? Sasha and Connie are coming over and I need pop tarts,” Jean says.

You need to die. Right now. Eren pulls your arm back by your wrist, settling it on your lower back. You don’t trust yourself to speak and tell him you’re going to kick his ass to Narnia. With a chair.

“Heeellooooo? Can you go and get them or what?”

“I don’t think,” Eren says, driving his cock all the way back only to drill it inside you with enough force to punch an obscene moan out of your lungs, “that’s possible, horse face.”

You slap your free hand on your mouth, feeling your heart beat in your throat. If Eren’s pillow combusts it’s from all the heat radiating off your face.

“Jesus,” Jean says, “Christ.”

Eren laughs, and you hate how the sound, so clear like an early summer’s day, makes you feel, makes something flutter in your chest. He ruts shallowly into you, making sure the fat tip of his cock presses right against the bundle of nerves deep inside you. You feel your eyes rolling back, your hips bucking into him on their own accord as you try to fuck yourself back onto him. You almost miss Jean’s next words. Almost. Because the screeching tilt to his voice is barely something you can blank out.

“I thought you two didn’t get along?!”

“We get along splendidly when I’m inside her,” Eren says.

“Oh God, I’m gonna throw up.”

“Don’t be shy now.” Eren is on a roll, it seems. “You can wipe out your tiny dick and jerk off to it, I don’t mind.”

“I. Mind,” you grit out over the sound of Eren abusing your cunt while Jean squeals, “My dick isn’t tiny, you asshole!”

It sounds a little as if Jean is having an existential crisis on the other line. You’re very close to having one yourself at the feeling of more and more slick pooling between your legs, gushing onto the mattress. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Eren, the slick and easy slide. His speed increases. He’s nearly pounding into you again.

“Bitch, didn’t you say you’d rather open Only Fans than fuck him again?” Jean asks you, appalled. You never in your whole life wanted him to shut up so bad like right now.

“Oh?” Eren presses his damp, bare chest into your back, pushing you into the mattress. He leans over your shoulder, to your ear on the other side from the phone and hisses darkly and quietly, “Would have loved to see that. Watch you stuff your cute little cunt with big, big toys. Would have donated money to you so you could buy them. Not that toys will ever satisfy you again after I’m done with you.”

You whine, spreading your legs even wider to grant him better access.

Jean makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like gagging. “Why is this happening? You’re the last two people I wanna hear going at it like rabbits.”

Content with his work, Eren leans back, changes his angle so that he’s fucking up into you. He groans when your walls grip him so tight that he has to bully his dick back inside you. “You’re—you’re still here, horse face.”

“Fuck.” The tone of Jean’s voice changes. “Yeah, this shit is like a car crash.”

“Next time,” Eren says, “come over and watch. I’m sure she’ll like that.”

“I—I’m gonna … gonna kill you,” you drawl, and yet your body betrays you and reacts to his words, not because it’s Jean but because apparently, you’re a slut for exhibitionism and Eren knows.

“Okay, that’s my cue to go and bleach my ears. You better be using protection, you psychopaths.”

Your phone lights up when the call disconnects. Finally. Eren leans over you again, marking up your neck with sharp, hungry teeth, biting into the heated skin. “’M sure he’s jealous.”

So that’s what this is about. He just wanted to prove a point, that you and him aren’t a thing, that you two are nothing, but if Eren possesses something, no matter how brief or the context of the relationship, he has to let other people know, and he pretty much smacked a neon-sign in Jean’s face that right now you are Eren’s. That you belong to him.

“You’re a freak,” you mumble, rolling your hips against his. Wanton and desperate. He can claim you all he wants; you don’t even care anymore.

Eren grins against your sweaty, hot skin. “Good thing, right? Or else you wouldn’t be here.”

He shifts his position, keeps one knee pressed into the mattress, and lifts his other to put his foot down to put more weight behind his thrusts. You thought it impossible, but like that, he hits you even deeper—you wish someone would take a picture right now as he mounts you, draping his broad chest over your back and circles his strong arms your shoulder to cage you; pushes one of his arms against your throat to choke you.

This is how animals fuck: unabashed, filthy. With one aim only. To breed.

With your hand now free, you grab onto his hair, pulling it loose from its low bun. Eren turns his head, running his mouth along your open palm, your wrist as he gets lost in the merciless rhythm of fucking you, aiming to destroy you. Your throat becomes hoarse from the screams and moans he punches out of you.

When he pushes you over the edge a second time, your knees buckle, unable to hold you up any longer as shockwaves grip your body, your walls fluttering around Eren’s cock.

This time, he doesn’t relish in the spasm and contract of your tight walls. He pulls out and flips you over on your back, laying the weight of his whole massive body on top of you as he slides back in. Only his hips snap with a ferocity as if he’s trying to break your spine; he is all desperation as his body cages yours.

His warm hands hold your head, cupping your cheeks. He looks at you with his eyes blown black from desire, half-closed, mouth hanging open. His thumbs press into your forehead as he eats up the sight of your fucked-out, blissful expression: eyes puffy from crying, nose running, drool sticking to the corners of your mouth and chin. Your heart-eyes on him.

“Gorgeous, so gorgeous,” he mumbles, and a jolt of unadulterated desire strikes your body at the sight of him becoming untethered because he feels so good fucking you. You are the one making him absolutely drunk on your pussy. “Lemme ruin that pussy for any other dick, will you? Can’t get off on any other dick except mine. Can’t fuck anyone else except me.”

You nod and nod and nod, licking your lips, swallowing. Eren smashes his mouth on yours, biting at your lips. “I’m gonna make this pussy a slut for my dick. No one can ever fuck you like I do. Ever.”

It’s so much, too much; you haven’t even recovered from your second orgasm and now Eren’s giving it to you like there is no tomorrow. Like today is your last day on earth and his whole purpose is to drill the shape of his cock inside you.

Something inside you snaps. You can’t keep up with this, can’t hold Eren’s searing gaze any longer. You shake your head, trying to break free from his hold. Somewhere you snatch a pillow and try to hide behind it, but Eren is having none of it.

“Oh, no, no, no, you can’t hide from me.” He cups your cheeks, thumbs wiping off tears as he licks into your mouth, lets you suck on his tongue. “Look at me.” He shakes you slightly until you do. “Look at me.”

You do. You look right into his unfathomable, green eyes and it’s nearly enough to make you come undone.

“Look at this.” He tilts your head, cupping the back of your neck gently, until you can look down your bodies, see how Eren’s massive cock disappears into your body as he hammers at your cunt. The outline of him inside you.

You laugh and cry, tears running hot paths down your temples.

“Look at how I’m fucking you,” he continues, his voice thick with the need to devour you. “You love it, don’t you, baby? Love, love, love how I fuck you like a whore.”

Nodding yet again, your nails dig bloody crescent marks into his arms as you hold onto him as if your life depends on it.

“Say it.” Eren’s thrusts lose his momentum as his hips stutter. He’s getting close, chasing his own climax without any care for you. More tension coils in your lower abdomen at that thought, driving you crazy. “Use your words, baby. Say how much you love it.”

“Y-your cock,” you whimper. You don’t recognise your own voice, it sounds so gone, so completely out of it. “Your cock sh-should live in there … that’s how mu-much I love … love it.”

Eren groans. His thrusts become so powerful he’s making you both bounce on the mattress and you have to lock your legs around his waist. “Such a filthy mouth.” He hooks his thumb around your teeth and yanks your mouth open. Spits in it. “I love it. I love it.”

When you swallow his spit like a good girl, he looks at you as if you are sculpture, something shaped a thousand years ago in the likeness of a pagan deity, as if you are absolutely divine—but his words are utter filth, delicious music to your ears: “Love this pussy so much, taking me so well. Treating my dick so good. C’mon, say it. Who’s fucking your brains out? Who’s messing up this fucking cunt?”

This time, you aren’t even hesitating as you shake with the force of his thrusts. “Y-you, you, you.” Your arms circle around his shoulders as you hold onto him. “E-Eren, Eren, Eren!”

“F-fuuuck!” His voice rings in your ear as he stuffs your cunt with one final, hard thrust and stays as he empties his balls inside you, stuffing you full with load after load of hot, thick cum. He groans your name as if it is the only word that holds any meaning in his entire existence; as if you are the only thing that keeps him from getting unwoven. Your walls milk him hard as he pushes you, no kicks you over the edge a third time this evening.

You cry against his thick neck, little hiccups and wet moans as Eren slides out fully, only to snap back inside, once, twice, and a last time. And finally, he slumps against you, exhausted and with his heart beating so hard against his ribcage you can feel it knock against your own chest.

The silence is like balm to a wound as you take the time to catch your breaths. Eren is hiding his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling audibly as his nose brushes along your throat.

“That was—” he begins, his voice throaty. You can feel his fingers gliding through your hair, smoothing it back.

“Yeah … yeah, that was something,” you agree, and proceed to lie flat like a pancake under him, not moving as his mouth plants lazy kisses on your shoulder. That is until you feel Eren’s warm cum leak out of you, slowly sliding between your ass crack and down his balls. You can feel him pull a grimace against your neck.

“Lemme go clean up.” You pat his shoulder until he pushes himself off you, his mouth curled downward. His frown only lasts until he, holding your legs open, slowly pulls out and watches your cunt push out another load of his cum.

“Pretty,” he says, thumbing at your hole.

You throw your arm over your eyes. “Your pull-out game is on top, as always.”

“Well, it didn’t seem like you wanted me to pull out.”

He’s right, but you don’t have to tell him that. All you want right now is to curl up and sleep for the next three days.

But Eren, who has the cock and stamina of a horse, picks you up easily in his arms, and the only reason he stumbles is because on the way to the bathroom, he trips over his dirty clothes a second time. “Oops.”

You’re too tired to comment on it. Too tired to answer anything when he goes full nerd and chats you up about the final instalment of the Evangelion movies as he sits you on the toilet lid while searching for a clean washcloth in one of his cupboards. When he soaks it in warm water and carefully wipes it between your legs, having to lean down slightly, you reach out and squish his cheeks, finally silencing him.

“What do I have to do to make you shut up?” you say.

Eren’s eyes dip to your mouth for a moment. “Sit on my face next time.”

His answer surprises you enough you lose your hold on him and he dives forward to smack a wet kiss on your mouth.

You blink at him, a little dazzled. “Next time?”

He grins. “Why not? I think we’re a pretty good match.”

That’s a persuading point. It’s a persuasive enough for you to lean forward and gently lick at the curve of his v-line, to slide your hands up his waist, over his hard packs. Eren’s eyes immediately darken.

You’ll have to see if he can hold out another round first, because he has yet to learn how insatiable you are. Insatiable and over-indulgent. But this indulgence, him, is like playing with fire, and you have no problem becoming the match to set it off.