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6sakusa · 9 months

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ain't that the worst thing you ever heard? (part 2)

c/w: 22k wc (I'm so sorry lmfao), SUGGESTIVE, summer romance, strangers to fwb to lovers, eren can surf, this little story has kept me company for weeks now, it just kept stretching and stretching and demanding more so I tried to accomodate its needs. I hope you'll be able to perceive all the love & care I've put into it! thank you for having been part of this summer journey now I'll finally go lie down

PART 1

June melts away and July is as sweet as the ripe cherries that melt on your tongue.

You’ve always loved summer, both in the city and the countryside you grew up in. The summer season that belonged to your childhood came with watermelon slices consumed sitting on the engawa with your grandparents, a poor antidote against the oppressive humidity that glued hair and clothes to your skin. The only relief came from the small fan they kept on at all times, day and night, the low buzz a constant companion throughout the hours spent napping, going through your homework or demolishing the only thing your mother has ever been able to cook: teriyaki tofu.

You slept in the same room as your grandparents at night, two futons placed at careful distance to no avail as you couldn’t sleep anyway between the noise coming from the fan, the chirping of the cicadas from outside and your grandpa’s snoring. Those were the nights you’d spend observing the ceiling, fantasizing about growing up and becoming an adult that worked as hard as your parents who woke up at the crack of dawn and came home several hours after you had finished eating dinner. You’d daydream about the big cities they always told you about, Tokyo and Osaka and Yokohama and Nagoya, places where people didn’t have to break their backs slaving away in rice fields every day.

Places where people wore nice shirts and ties and jackets and carried little leather briefcases and worked in clean offices and never had to scrape the mortifying dirt stuck underneath their nails.

Summer in the city came with apartments with little to no insulation, boxes as humid and hot as the outside, with no air moving around inside. Still, you bought a little pink fan when you couldn’t afford an AC, made sure your fridge always had a consistent stock of watermelon and fruit popsicles. You’d lie belly-down on the tatami floors when afternoons got too hot to move, and took the Yokosuka line from the central station along with some friends whenever you could gift yourself the luxury of spending a day at the beach.

It wasn’t enjoyable. The drudgery that took to get there, sweat running down your back, crowded trains and a bus where you could barely breathe from how hot it was, sand crawling in between your belongings and sticking to your arms and legs. But the ocean? That was worth it. A body of water stretching as far as the eye could see, so boundless it felt like the city was miles and miles away, all your emotions magnified, salty breeze flooding your senses. You often wished to take your parents there, always daydreamed about how amazed your mother would feel and about your father’s calloused hands picking up a fishing rod instead of being busy ploughing, harrowing fields, harvesting grains.

You felt at ease in the water, gliding across it with bold strokes as your friends splashed around closer to the shore. You liked diving underneath the surface, eyes shut and ears filled with currents, waves and storms no one else could hear. A special sussurration made just for you, one you listened to until your lungs felt a moment away from exploding.

So far, summer on the island doesn’t come close to anything you’ve experienced before. Your vacation rental has an AC that you refuse to turn on and most nights on your first month there were so hot you could barely sleep. The sky is the kind of blue that is promising and has you excited for the day to unravel, clouds showing up and timidly crossing it fluffly and candid as snow. What was considered the glorious realm of the gods according to Mesopotamian mythology, the island holds as regular cedar forests, although so wonderful you can only guess it must’ve been blessed with a touch of divine nonetheless. You got to hike through more than one and paid homage to the ancient trees, some of Japan’s oldest living ones. Jean has been a sweet guide on your first time, carefully explaining to every member of the group he was leading both the history and ecology of the sights along the way.

Tropical storms are restless and unforgiving, you learn: wind shakes your windows, lighting tints rooms purple and the crack of thunder prompts the lighting up of your phone screen at any hour of the night, without exception.

Eren comes to know about your fear of thunderstorms on a late afternoon. He has taken the habit of showing up at your place with a little something for you from time to time: that day he had two plastic bags in his hands, a few groceries he had picked up on the way there “just in case you’re out of something”, kitchen counter slowly filling up with fresh milk, eggs, apricots, bread, one box of cereals, cheese and what were mostly his favorite snacks. And it’s never just an excuse to be there, he never expects you to reward him: Eren has his own way of putting away the groceries, his regular grumbling about how messy your cupboard is, an improved method of fixing the leaking of your sink and piling his book suggestions right next to your tv, so that you don’t forget to check them out. More often than not they’re not books he has read, just books he deems you’ll find interesting.

That afternoon Eren wasn’t there to sleep with you, he didn’t have any particular motive for spending a few hours sprawled on your couch watching some dumb cooking show, except that he enjoyed it. He enjoyed how invested you’d get and the way you’d lightly pinch his thigh when you’d have it with his boyish, teasing comments. Sometimes you’d just slot your mouth to his to shut him up, a more than welcome distraction from pretentious chefs who presented dishes he never would have dreamed to replace Sasha’s wraps with. And while your kisses didn’t always lead to anything (whatever it was that you had going on walking between blurred lines that comprised make out sessions, casual hang outs and Eren molding your body to accomodate his so perfectly you often found yourself questioning if you could ever even take anyone else and feel the same way), on that particular day you seemed more than willing to forget about the stupid cooking show. And then a loud crack his very much occupied mind could barely register, had you jolting away from him and covering your ears in a heated rush.

Eren makes sure to call or text you during storms but he’s way more subtle about it now than he was at the start. After your prideful “I’m fine, stop checking on me like I’m some damn child”, he developed a new, clever strategy to make sure you’re doing okay. Whether it’s by sending you a funny meme, the link to a tiktok video, some random update on Connie’s hectic dating life at 3 in the morning, he hopes the message gets across. And alhough most times you don’t reply until several hours later, out of that same stubborn pride that makes him roll his eyes multiple times a day, you can’t help but smile a little when the phone screen your eyes instinctively dart to at the beginning of every storm, lights up without fail.

Contrary to what you had anticipated, being friends with him is probably the easiest thing you've ever done. Eren gives a lot and takes very little, the only situations this selflessness doesn’t really apply to include discarded clothes and skirts pooled around your hips when he’s too impatient and the steamed up windows of his truck blurry your vision and your mind as the pads of his fingers dig into the fat of your thighs. Those are the moments Eren takes everything from you. He claims each breathless gasp, the twitching of your legs, the way your pretty features freeze in silent pleasure and he gets to whisper reassuring praises against the corner of your mouth. Whether he’s aware or not about just how much he ruins you each time, is beyond your understanding.

Eren talks about you with his friends when you’re not there to hang out with them, which happens often anyway. He’d casually mention something you did or said or once specified you enjoyed, an habit that’s increasingly prompting knowing glances exchanged between Connie and Jean. Armin’s stare just turns a little worried, especially when Eren reprimands everyone and cares to remind them to be careful and not get attached because your presence is temporary.

Sasha feels as if, between one beer and the other, he’s the one he’s truly trying to convince. It’s new Eren behavior, uncharted territory, and the odds of the whole thing ending in the shittiest way possible are incredibly high: which is why Armin decides to take it upon himself to test the waters and almost asks if you think it’s really best to keep going with the whole friends with benefits thing. He likes you and means well. Maybe it’d keep everyone’s feelings safe if you and Eren discarded the benefits part and stayed as nothing more than regular friends?

But right as he was about to voice his question, you had stopped by a street fruit vendor and turned to look at him with sparkles in your eyes.

“What if we get some pineapples? I could try and make that ice cream Eren never shuts up about”

Shit, he thought to himself. Maybe he had been way too optimistic.

Eren knows you’re not actually asleep. Not that he’s yet had the privilege of knowing what you look like when you’re sleeping: you never once stayed the night at his place, which was good enough of a reason never to spend the night at yours. He’s never had the chance to lend you one of his shirts or ask if the coffee he buys now is better than the one you tasted so many mornings ago. It’s not that he’s bothered by it, he just doesn’t understand what sort of thoughts prompt you to immediately get out of his bed (or off of his couch, or out of his shower, or down from the kitchen counter—), collect your clothes, flash him a smile and wave goodbye. He should be happy you do that, honestly. It’s always saved both of you from experiencing any unnecessary awkwardness. It’s convenient. It’s practical. But still, it certainly wouldn’t kill you to stay just once?

“Stop that” your nose scrunches, the light touch of his fingers tickling you.

“Be an active part of the excursion, then” an airy chuckle leaves him as his fingertips skim the bridge of your nose again. You weakly swat his hand away.

“M’tired” you puff out your cheeks, eyes still shut. Eren rolls his eyes.

“It was less than an hour long hike”

“You own a trained body, I own an exhausted one”

“So you don’t want any snacks?”

Finally, you open one eye to peer at him, suspicious. Amused, Eren gently bounces his leg, the one your head is resting on.

“It better be Sasha’s avocado hummus” you grumble while making the process of sitting up dramatic enough for him snort.

“It’s something better: fresh fruit” Eren meets your shocked expression with an innocent grin.

“You’re a deceitful, unreliable little man” you playfully narrow your gaze as he pulls out a plastic bag from his backpack. He huffs.

“Stop complaining, these are from Kukiko’s garden”

“Kukiko?”

“Jean’s grandma. She pretty much raised him and used to give us extra treats before we set off for school” a small smile stretches his lips as he takes some peaches and a small knife from the bag.

“My granny used to do the same” you smile too, the sweetness of the memories coming to mind causing a pleasant warmth to spread in your chest “she’d pack my lunch and then several others for my friends, just in case their parents forgot. As if that could’ve been possible”

Eren looks up from the fruit he’s carefully peeling. He’s doing it with such attentive care you can’t help but wish, for a single, fleeting second, that he’d still be there to peel tangerines for you in the winter.

There’s fondness in his gaze, one you wish you didn’t notice because it never fails to emerge whenever you share something personal, something belonging to a life he knows little to nothing about. He makes it painfully clear that he’d love for that door to be left half-opened for him.

“D’you visit her from time to time? I assume she still lives in the countryside”

If the pang of sadness that clutches your throat and digs deep into your stomatch could have a physical representation, it’d probably be an icicle. Cold, harsh, unforgiving.

“I’m sorry” Eren catches the change in your stare before you have the chance to say anything. With a small, bitter smile, you shrug.

“It’s okay. It’s been years. Doesn’t get any easier, though”

You’re sitting very close to each other, so he gently nudges your shoulder with his arm.

“Yeah. I’m sure she loved you a lot and that doesn’t just go away, you know”

“Jesus” you chuckle and lean your forehead against his shoulder to hide the embarrassing tears stinging the corners of your eyes “you just had to be good with words too, among everything else”

A silent laugh shakes him.

“What can I say, I’m gifted like that” he hands you one slice of the peach he’s still holding and you accept it with a scoff. The fruit is mellow, flavorful and tangy as it melts in the back of your throat. It almost makes you want to cry again.

The observatory was his idea, one of the very few remaining places he didn’t have the chance to take you to. Despite it having a large parking lot, restrooms and vending machines, it’s a sightseeing spot not many tourists come to know about, so it’s mostly empty. The view is stunning and, truth be told, you didn’t mind the hike either: despite the inescapable sun shining high in the sky, not a single cloud in sight, you enjoyed climbing the path dotted with many tropical plants. Hibiscus, adan trees, cycads, Eren indicating and naming each one along the way.

From where you’re sitting, you can see the white lighthouse you had visited a few days prior, Eren’s friends having planned a picnic nearby that soon gave them the perfect excuse to take you all the way to the top of the abandoned tower. Connie smiled upon seeing your expression morph into pure wonder as soon as Sasha removed her hands from your eyes: you don’t remember seeing an equally breathtaking view of the ocean sparkling beneath your feet, ever. If you squeeze your eyes really hard, you can almost discern the small bay you remember Armin helping you locate on the northernmost tip of the island.

You’re not sure why Eren bothers hanging out with you when his days are less busy, why he doesn’t mind spending his morning sharing fresh fruit underneath the July sun instead of being with his friends or riding a wave. Sure, you count as a watered-down version of a friend too at this point, and spending time with him feels so natural sometimes you wonder if you haven’t actually known him for a longer time.

But it also feels intimate, oddly more than the moments when he’s pushing inside you. It’s easier to kiss him than to hear him laugh at your jokes, especially when the sun hits the green of his eyes just right and you feel the sudden urge to tuck those stubborn strands behind his ears. It’s easier to have his arms around you, lips tracing your collarbone, because that means he won’t be looking at you in that infuriating way of his, genuine interest floating in such intense irises whenever he asks a question in patient anticipation of another piece of yourself you may or may not decide to unravel for him.

Eren gently presses his thumb between your brows, to smooth out that little crease you get whenever you get lost in thoughts he isn’t allowed to access. His hand is still wet and sticky from the peach you’ve shared, so you pull back with a grimace and he laughs.

“So pensive today” he brings that same thumb to his mouth to clean all the fruit remnants “didn’t even ask me if I really didn’t bring anything else to eat”

“Did you?” your brows shoot up in interest and he rolls his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I mean, you’re insufferable when you’re hungry”

And just like that, he pulls out some neatly packaged banh mi sandwiches, the ones you remember casually mentioning liking to Sasha at the picnic by the lighthouse while he was busy discussing something else with Jean. As you stare at the herbs and mayo sticking to the clear cellophane, it’s hard to blink back the surprise. Or to swallow the lump in your throat.

Oh, no.

“Eren” you mutter his name carefully and he tilts his head with a responsive little hum “I kinda want to kiss you right now”

Another mirthful laugh echoes through the calm, fragrant air. Thank god he hasn’t noticed the unusual hesitation laced into your tone because yes, this is a need, but also a test you’re not sure you want to know the output of.

He inches closer and gently tilts your head up with the softest grasp of your chin, lips pressing to yours in a chaste kiss that sends shock waves through your veins.

Oh, no.

Eren has to resort to quite the amount of self restraint not to chase your lips when you pull back, features impenetrable once again for god knows what thought now crossing your pretty little mind. He can feel his heart drumming in his ears, the scent of your hair and sunscreen mixing together well enough to almost, almost make him sigh. By now there’s a giant, neon sign hanging over your head that reads proceed with caution, presence temporary. It blinks at him, flashing at regular intervals. He doesn’t like it one bit.

“How come you’re not in a relationship?” the questions rolls off his tongue before he has the chance to decide if it’s even appropriate to ask something like that so bluntly. It’s clearly not, given how your lips purse. But even as he realizes your reaction indicates some discomfort, Eren doesn’t apologize nor does he take the question back. He wants to know something new and while anything will do, this is a topic he holds a particular interest for.

“I was, we broke up a couple weeks before I booked this trip” you clear your throat, attempting to come off as unbothered with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

“So I’m the tropical rebound?” he’s being playful but you catch the slight seriousness embedded in his words and shake your head.

“No. You’re nothing like him”

“Ouch?”

You huff, impatient.

“Last time I saw him, he was balls deep inside one of my friends. You’re nothing like him”

Eren pulls a face but there’s relief expanding the lungs in his chest cavity.

Not so ouch-worthy, after all.

“Well, that sucks”

“Right?” you smile “this would be a good time to list all the wonderful qualities he’s going to be missing out on”

The half-joking tone isn’t enough to prevent him from taking your request seriously.

“I can’t imagine scoring someone like you and then just fucking it up so royally” he scoffs “what an idiot”

“Once again, such a way with words” you hope your teasing is enough to hide the heat crawling up from your chest to the very roots of your hair. Eren starts to unwrap your sandwich a little too harshly.

“I mean it” and god help him, he really does “who’s gonna insult his coffee now, I wonder?”

You’d playfully smack his arm and feign annoyance if it wasn’t for the smile he gives you, the faint shadow of a dimple teasing his left cheek as his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“How come you’re not in a relationship?” you fire the question back as you accept the sandwich he hands you, the first bite already having you swallowing back a moan. The cilantro leaves really do it for you.

“No particular reason” he shrugs “we broke up a few months ago”

“Amicably?”

“Yeah. We were together for a little over a year, it just gradually faded. I know it sounds sad as shit but really, we were friends before and we still are now”

“Why is everyone in your life just so wonderful and mature?” your grumbling draws a chuckle. He appreciates that you refer to his friends as wonderful people.

“I mean, my previous girlfriend told me she fell out of love with me on my birthday and then I found out she’d been dating her coworker for two weeks”

“Hmm. Yeah, you totally just evened that out”

“I did my fair share of asshole moves over the years, it’s how life goes. But you grow and hope to become a better person” he pauses “not like your ex. Fuck that guy”

He mirrors your airy laugh and you both finish your early lunch in comfortable silence, the ocean glistening underneath the same sun pleasantly heating up your cheeks.

Eren likes that you’d kiss him over something as trivial as a homemade sandwich, he likes that it doesn’t feel weird either, given that you only really touch each other when his friends are not present. It would be strange to act any differently, it would feel odd and awkward and wrong. It would feel like a relationship.

When the breeze decreases in intensity and it gets too hot to stay at the observatory, he suggests taking off. However, before you hit the road once more, you draw out your phone and ask him if he’d take a picture of you. It’s a funny reminder that you’re still a tourist, renewed amazement dancing in your features every time you turn to look at the scenery. Of course Eren agrees and carefully snaps a few pictures from different angles, so many your smile becomes a giggle and you actually attempt to snatch your phone out of his hand when he refuses to stop.

“Take one with me” you propose unexpectedly “so I can look at it and miss summer once I’m back in Tokyo” and miss you, you mentally correct yourself.

Eren stares at you for a second, brows furrowed. It’s the first time you openly mention your future departure, a detail he’s been familiar with ever since meeting you. Still, hearing it out loud brings the detail to a new level of concreteness. The sudden reality of it tastes bitter on his tongue as he bends down ever so slightly when you complain about feeling too short with his arm around your chest, safely tucking you against his. He keeps it friendly, basks in the warm sound of your giggle when you take the phone from his hand and he has to rest his chin on your head to be included in the picture. He keeps it friendly, even as he wonders if you’d look cute together, perhaps in a shot that captures that tender look in your eyes while his lips press to your temple.

Maybe it’s that specific thought that prompts him to blurt out the question.

“Stop moving”

“But it tickles!”

“If you make me screw this up I’m gonna have to start from scratch!”

Sasha huffs and her breath is warm on your cheek as you inch closer, ring finger under her brow to lift her eye firmly. The gentle way you’re stretching her skin is enough to keep her eyelid smooth, which allows you to apply the eyeliner in short, light strokes from the inner corner to the outer corner of an eye she’s having such a hard time keeping shut. Regardless, the wing looks sharp enough, although you decide to fix both her eyes with just a tiny amount of concealer.

When Sasha casually asked you do her makeup for the evening, you felt equal parts flattered and terrified of failure. You wanted her to feel pretty exactly the way she wanted to, which is why you both spent an embarrassing amount of time going through her belongings and planning the process each step of the way, refusing to accept her bubbly do as you please, I trust you!

She looks beautiful but that’s not really something you’d count as your success. She always is.

“Are we done?” you can tell she’s excited to peer at the final result, which makes you smile.

“Almost. Just missing lipstick”

You pick up the shade she decided on, a nice nude with a pink undertone that goes well with her fair skin.

As you attempt to gently sketch the lip liner around her lips, she giggles again, only keeping still after meeting your glare. Because you’ve been warned that there’d be food involved, you decide on further securing your work of art: after applying lipstick on top of lined and filled lips, you also apply some setting powder over it and then blot her lips with a tissue paper.

“Now you’re ready to win over that new coworker of yours” you grin as you hand her the small mirror she keeps on her desk.

Sasha’s eyes widen.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“Sure you don’t. Tall, blond, smile that could shake the earth…”

“Hey, I never said that!”

“So you do have an idea after all” you grin and promptly dodge the small, heart-shaped pillow she snatches from her bed to throw at you. She then focuses on her reflection for a few seconds, finger nervously twirling one of the loose strands escaping her low bun, eyes anxiously scanning her face from different angles.

“Sash, you look gorgeous” you gently take the mirror from her hands “how about you go get dressed? I’ll clean up here and then we can head out”

She sighs but gives you an appreciative, little smile in turn. Then, her brows knit.

“Wait, what are you going to do with your hair? And what are you going to wear? I didn’t see you bring anything”

“I mean, I already did my makeup. I wasn’t planning on changing anything else, I’m ready to go”

“Are you shitting me?”

The horrified look on her face suggests that perhaps the casual floral dress you have on wouldn’t be too appropriate for the star festival she’s been gushing over for two weeks.

You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“I didn’t really bring anything fancy” you’re mortified. How could you not think of checking a store or two? This night is clearly a bigger deal that you had anticipated.

With a huff, Sasha gets up from her desk chair and starts a frantic search in the depths of her gigantic (and quite overflowing) closet. Dresses, tops and skirts are violently snatched from their hangers and drop to the floor in colorful puddles until she finally finds whatever it is she’s looking for.

“Sasha, I really can’t” your lips are parted in surprise, mesmerized by the sheer beauty of the yukata she’s holding.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I won’t let you walk out in that”

“It’s too much, really, you should wear it!”

“I already have mine and it’s prettier” her grin is void of any actual malice “can I help you put it on?”

You swallow, so flattered that she trusts you enough to lend something so beautiful and certainly important to her. There’s a silly feeling squeezing your stomach and threatening to bring tears to your eyes, a gesture so simple that makes you feel not just welcome but accepted in a way that doesn’t feel temporary anymore.

Sasha comes closer, whatever emotion has your mind feeling all over the place must be clearly noticeable from the outside because she puts a hand on your shoulder with the softest smile, squeezing gently.

“This is not the time to get emotional, we’ll get there but not tonight. C’mon, let me” she holds the yukata up and wiggles her brows, succeeding in drawing a giggle.

“Sorry. Yeah, okay, let’s do it”

You get undressed and like the expert she clearly is, Sasha waits for you to slip your arms into the sleeves before adjusting the hemline to cover your ankles while aligning the center back seam with your backbone. She brings the right-side overlap to the hip bone on the other side, then layers the left-side one over the former. A waist cord is tied around you right above the waistline, from the front to the back, crossed and then brought back to the front to be secured. Sasha makes sure to tuck away the loose ends between the wrapped cord and places he extra-folded overlap over it.

She checks you all around and hums, satisfied. The obi is white, it matches the beautiful flowers, leaves and branches ramifying across the baby blue fabric of the traditional piece of clothing. Sasha wraps the obi around your waist from the back to the front, layers it neatly to ensure that it will not become loose. She then carefully straightens it and places its end on the back. After some holding, pinching, wrapping and tucking, you can feel what you have no doubt is a perfect bow pressing into your back.

“Done!” she doesn’t give you the time to say a word, impatiently pushing you towards the full length mirror glued to one of her closer doors.

It’s… well, something. You have never worn an actual, traditional yukata before, the ones you own are pretty cheap and the fabric is nowhere as high in quality as the one you can feel against your skin now. Soft, airy, comfortable, you can’t help but smile and think it kinda suits you.

“I didn’t think I could pull off something so gorgeous” you check yourself from different angles, admiring the result of Sasha’s skilled ministrations. Her reflection smiles back at you.

“You’re stunning. Eren is going to flip out”

Your heart jumps in your throat at the mention of his name.

“He’s not” you chuckle nervously “he’s used to me by now”

Sasha giggles.

“Please, you don’t know how he gets with this stuff. He loves this festival more than any of us, seeing you dressed in traditional clothing, in his favorite color, will make him flip out”

“I’m not wearing it because I want him to flip out” you protest, sudden panic bubbling in your chest. His favorite color? Is that why she…?

“My god, you’re weird” Sasha cocks her head, seeming genuinely confused “let me fix your hair and then I’ll get dressed, we’re already late”

She could’ve told you so much more. That she finds it interesting and exhaustingly stubborn, that you wouldn’t like the man you’re dating to be all over you. She knows dating is not exactly what you two have been doing but Sasha also knows her friend well enough to guess when he’s falling for someone and boy, has he fallen for you. She could’ve told you that he’s spent two weeks going over the fact that he’d invited you to the festival multiple times, wrecking his mind (and theirs) with a vortex of thoughts inevitably spiraling out of his usually solid control.

I don’t know what came over me.

She’s gonna think it’s weird, isn’t she?

What if she hates it?

And when Connie flicked his forehead, urged him to get a fucking grip and reminded him that friends can hang out and go to festivals and enjoy some time together even outside of the disgusting sex dungeon he insists on calling home, Eren sighed and deflated in his seat, something about his features being so heartbreakingly conflicted even Jean didn’t feel like cracking any other jokes.

Sasha knows this night holds a special meaning to him, the festival he’s loved so dearly ever since he was a child, when he got to experience it hand in hand with his parents. The festival they always attended together, when their group was still far from falling apart and no one dreamed of leaving the island yet. The special occasion that rarely ever included girls or general outsiders, the one night he jealously kept to himself, his friends and his family.

Not all of them share his devotion for the star festival, Connie notoriously taking advantage of the sparkling setting to hit on every pretty girl within a 3-foot radius, but they understand it. The fact that he wants you there means more than what you can imagine and the whole thing would fill Sasha with joyful relief if it wasn’t for the fact that you are going to leave in less than two months and she knows the ashes they’re going to be left picking up are going to weigh heavy in their hands.

But she’s not mad at you because how could she be when you make her friend happy and he clearly makes you happy too? Eren’s not the only one who’s gonna get burned, the real tragedy is that you’re both still too blind to acknowledge it.

You head out shortly after, in the extra geta sandals Sasha has insisted on lending you. No one is there to pick you up but she lives fairly close to downtown, where you’ll meet the rest of the group.

“They’re usually easy to find, probably going to be glued to a yakitori stand” she’d said, making you smile. Sasha looks nothing less than dashing in her handmade crimson yukata and golden obi, you genuinely think that Niccolo guy would be an idiot not to shoot his shot the moment he sees her.

You come to learn that what you’re attending is the island’s own version of the tanabata festival, the only night deities Orihime and Hikoboshi are allowed to meet despite the milky way separating them. Back in Tokyo you and your friends would write wishes on small pieces of paper and hang them on trees. However, tonight people will entrust theirs to floating paper ships released into the ocean.

The celebrations had started in the afternoon so you have missed the parade but you’re well in time to enjoy everything else: the streets you have come to know by now, are filled with a crowd you couldn’t believe would fit in a space rendered narrower by dozens of colorful food stands and amusement booths. The air is fragrant, different smells mixing interestingly well together as vendors shout over each other to attract clients and tourists. Some of them wave back at Sasha and offer free samples for her to test out. You return their bows with a smile and then trot away with your friend to resist the temptation to pause at every single stand and get one of everything. At some point, she does stop to get a seafood okonomiyaki but you’re still trying to decide between a portion of takoyaki and some good ol’ yakisoba when Sasha lets out a squeal and excitedly waves at someone standing a few booths away.

You turn around just as the guys approach her, all smiles and giddy greetings. They look better than expected in their yukatas, the most eclectic one being Connie who is sporting a pattern of turquoise waves on a white background and a headband decorated with the rising sun motif and the kanji for “number one”.

As you take a tentative step forward, Sasha moves sideways just enough for you to unexpectedly meet Eren’s gaze, which has been focused on you from the very first squeal his friend let out. And yet, he finds himself so pathetically unprepared for the sight, for how rapidly his heartbeat increases in pace. He doesn’t even attempt to hide the wonder in his eyes as he smiles down at you and that unfiltered, pure astonishment in his gaze is more than enough for your pulse to spike. You’ve lost count of the oh nos at this point.

He opens his mouth to say something but Connie’s admired whistle comes faster.

“Yo, you look hot as shit!”

The spell doesn’t break even if you all melt in chuckles and you thank him with an exaggerated bow. Sasha clears her throat and takes him by the arm, Jean’s friendly thumbs up and the flash of Armin’s sweet smile the last things you see before the group starts moving forward and towards another stand.

“What he said” Eren’s voice comes out different, there’s no sign of his usual confidence and you can sense some weird nervousness laced into it. It makes you want to take his hand.

“You look really good yourself” you say, although good is a heavily simplistic way to depict what you’re actually looking at. The indigo yukata compliments his tan skin and further enhances (something you could not deem possible) the color of his eyes. It’s slightly open on the front, to reveal his smooth chest, and the hair he’s tied back leaves you no chance of escaping that intense stare of his. He’s perfect.

As Eren motions to the rest of the group with a graceful gesture of his hand and you walk side by side, you think you hear him mutter something very similar to a “not even close” under his breath.

“So” his eyes are back on you the second you speak “what should we eat?”

“Ah, you have to try Ryo’s takoyaki, he has a special recipe for his mayo” Eren smiles and, without a second thought, grabs your hand to drag you away from the stall where Jean and Armin are buying a grilled squid each.

“Wait, they’re still—”

“They’ll find us”

And just like that, the warmth of his fingers and the broadness of his back are the only things you can focus on as he guides you through the bustling crowd.

He introduces you to yet another acquaintance of his, Ryo smiling fondly at him and insisting for five entire minutes on the takoyaki being on the house. Eren scoffs at your attempt at paying, genuinely offended, and after a heated argument Ryo eventually gives in and accepts his money. However, he winks at you as he hands you your portion.

“I added two extra ones, don’t tell him” he whispers and you share a chuckle.

Shortly after, Eren laughs at your wide eyed stare as soon as you swallow the first bite.

“What the hell is this?” you mutter, shocked “why is everything just so much better here?”

A softer smile lingers on his lips as he watches you gush over a food he’s eaten a thousand times, bite after bite an endless stream of exclamations voicing marvel he finds adorable. When Eren stops in his tracks and you turn around, confused, he almost takes your face in his hands and kisses you right then and there, for everyone to witness. Instead, he carefully swipes his thumb across your bottom lip as an excuse to collect some mayo from the corner of your mouth and then brings that same thumb to his mouth, successfully erasing any thought from your mind and melting every bone in your body.

“Maybe you should stay, then”

He’s serious, so serious your breath hitches in your throat. Especially because your first instinct is to reply with a yeah, maybe I should you definitely can’t afford to pronounce out loud.

He keeps you locked in place with a stare that leaves you no place to hide, the pads of your fingers tingling with need. You want to kiss him, you want to stay. He wants you to. He’s waiting for you to say something.

Why?

Ask me to.

Tell me why.

Convince me.

I can’t.

But do I want to?

“Or, I could take Ryo to Tokyo with me” you swallow the ashes in your throat and attempt a smile. He purses his lips and it sucks that you can discern the disappointment flashing in his eyes. Just for a second, then it’s gone, pushed away, and Eren brings back his handsome smirk.

“I’m sure he’d love that”

He wasn’t planning on half-asking you to stay, not right now, not like that. He didn’t even realize he’s hoping for you to stay in the first place. What the hell, who does that? What is he doing, where are his friends?

You don’t understand why, or perhaps you do and choose to ignore rational explanations for the time being, but you take a step forward and gently give in to the urge of taking his hand. It’s big, rough but warm in yours.

“Is this weird?” the question is so soft he can barely hear it and yet his heart seems to miss a beat, perhaps even two.

“No” he carefully slides his fingers in between yours and takes a moment to get accustomed to the sensation only to discover that he doesn’t need it “it’s not weird”

“Good” you smile “show me around some more?”

It’s unbelievable, the amount of people Eren knows and stops to say hello to along the way. Nearly every vendor, almost every booth, he makes sure to at least wave and if someone holds him a little longer, he squeezes your hand as he asks them about their families, sons, business. You recognize some of the tourists eager to have a word with him too, lots of them part of the groups he teaches to. Most of your mornings are not spent watching his lessons anymore: you’re too busy either putting into practice his teachings firsthand, or hanging out at the cafe with Sasha. If Armin and Jean show up too, you quite literally drag them into the water because you’re eager to showcase everything you’ve learned so far. When he’s done, Eren always comes looking for you anyway.

Once he’s made sure you’ve tasted a little bit of everything, your taste buds jazzed and your stomach a second away from exploding, you decide it’s time for dessert. Your treat.

“But you don’t know what I’d like?” he teases, mischievous glint in his eyes.

You roll your eyes.

“I’m gonna take a guess. Wait here and don’t peek”

“Yes, ma’am” he stands up straight and salutes like a soldier.

You wander away but not before sending him one last glance from over your shoulder. It makes you laugh that he’s still standing in the same way, silly, boyish grin mirroring yours.

Apples covered in sugar syrup are a no, way too sweet, and you skip the colorful clouds of the cotton candy booth for the same reason. You just know Connie is going to make an inappropriate joke if you get chocolate covered bananas on a stick so you opt for two portions of kakigori, shaved ice flavored with condensed milk and syrup. The consistency is smoother, fluffier in comparison to the ones you’ve eaten in Tokyo throughout the years and endless other summer festivals, this one almost feels like fresh fallen snow. You pick strawberry as your flavor and pineapple as his, kindly asking the friendly woman working at the stall to reduce the amount of syrup of his cup.

You can feel the yukata sticking to your back as you swiftly return to where he’s waiting for you, the dessert you have picked the perfect weapon against the humid air of the evening.

“Hey” you greet “saw you standing here on your own and thought, wow, that guy’s cute. Maybe he’d give me a chance if I bribe him with food” as you hand him the colorful cup, your fingers graze his. It’s disgusting that you think you’d like to bottle up that airy laugh and keep it close, listen to it whenever you feel lonely. It’s probably one of the things you’re going to miss the most.

“Good strategy, I’m sold” even his fake wink is attractive “you look like a tourist, how’s the vacation going?” he plays along with a silliness that makes you smile as you shrug.

“Not too bad, the locals are very friendly”

“And yet no one’s had the heart to tell you that strawberry kakigori tastes like shit”

You lightly stomp on his foot, brows furrowed in a frown he finds comical and way too realistic.

“Just changed my mind, I don’t want that chance”

He displays a sorrowful grimace as he brings one hand to his chest, the fatal wound given by your sharp words almost making him curl in on himself.

“But baby” he coos, bringing that same hand to cradle your cheek, thumb delicately skimming over your cold lips “who said I was going to give you one?”

He’s already laughing when you swat his hand away, an asshole muttered under your breath even if you can’t bite back your own smile, heart pounding with the same frenzy of a hummingbird. Eren’s only ever called you that while in compromising positions and the pet name never failed to prompt immediate reactions from your body but now he’s just kidding, in the middle of the street, among a hundred other humans passing by. He makes it sound every bit as devastatingly alluring as he always does, you suppose it’s a problem that you’d like to hear him call you that again right away.

“Eren!” a voice you don’t recognize snaps you back to reality and away from your embarrassing fantasies. There’s a pretty brunette next to him, hugging him actually, hands lingering on his chest even after she pulls back. He politely says hello, takes a step back but she follows the movement, with no intention of interrupting the skin to skin contact.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all night, Sasha said you’d be around” she has gorgeous gray eyes and the purple yukata looks amazing on her.

“Yeah, m’just taking a stroll” his eyes dart to you but it doesn’t seem like he intends to introduce you at any point. You take a step back for good measure.

“Wanna join us? Porco’s here too!”

He smiles.

“Really? I’ll come say hi in a second”

She juts her bottom lip out.

“Don’t be long. I thought you’d at least call me, especially after last night. You know I miss you”

Perhaps he had a point when he said that strawberry kakigori tastes like shit because right not it feels like concrete in your mouth. You know you don’t have any right to be upset, he’s not your boyfriend and by no means you expected your little arrangement to be exclusive. But even that’s not enough of a reason to stay any longer and hear the continuation of a conversation you’re not meant to be a part of.

So you excuse yourself with a smile, her gray eyes acknowledging you for the first time and for no longer than a second, Eren’s hand almost snapping to grab your wrist to prevent you from leaving. But you’re quick and also stupid enough to give him a thumbs up from behind her back before swiftly turning around and letting go of the breath that had your lungs burning. Thank god you spot Sasha and everyone else not too far away, they’re all positioned in a semicircle around Jean and Connie.

“Isn’t this game supposed to be for kids?” you whisper to Sasha and she giggles.

“Yes but they insist on trying every year. They never win anyway”

The game consists in scooping goldfish with a small paper racket that torns almost right away when contacted with water.

“Son of a…” Connie grunts when a child next to him succeeds in catching not one but two fishes among the applause of everyone gathered around the booth to watch. His mom glares at him and you chuckle.

“Can I try?” you chime in and Connie is happy to switch places, scowl so deep you can barely bite back a laugh.

“We need a new strategy” Jean whispers angrily.

“Maybe you shouldn’t swirl the racket like that” you smile and accept the new one the booth owner lends you.

He huffs but stops his ministrations to focus on your movements, the fact that he’s damn near holding his breath is hilarious but you can’t afford any distractions: there’s a mission to accomplish.

It takes more than a few attempts and you can feel the warmth radiating from Connie’s chest practically pressed against your back in restless anticipation. When you catch one fish at last, there’s another applause drowned in his howling: you barely have the time to let the fish slip into the plastic bag filled with water the booth owner is offering before Connie’s arms close around you in a hug that lifts you off the ground.

“Beginner’s luck” Jean is not as happy: it’s quite clear who’s going to own the fish you captured.

You lift your cup with an apologetic smile.

“Want some?” there’s another spoon planted in the soft ice, he may as well be the one to use it.

“Strawberry?” he asks with a grin, accepting your offer nonetheless “we haven’t taught you enough”

“She’s going to tell all her friends we’re such snobs” Armin sighs and you chuckle.

“Ohmygod we should go try the target shooting booth! Like, right now” Sasha tugs at your sleeve and Jean catches your cup right as you lose your grip on it.

“Wait a second—”

“Please, can we go?”

“I guess we’re going target shooting” Armin concedes and Jean shrugs, now the happy owner of a dessert he didn’t have to pay for as Connie gushes over his new pet.

“What should we call them?” he asks as your little group moves towards yet another crowded stall. You turn around, Sasha still quite literally dragging you.

“Mmmh, what about Floater?”

“I think Miso would be cute” Armin chimes in but Connie snorts.

“I like Sea Beast. Yeah, that’s the one”

You all erupt in laughter, Jean knowingly putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Man, I have a feeling you’re never gonna get laid again”

“Joke’s on you, women are gonna find me adorable as shit. Right?” he raises his voice on the last word and both you and Sasha look at each other, amused.

“I guess” she concedes.

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a killer icebreaker” you agree.

Armin huffs.

“Just don’t ask women if they’d like to come over to meet your sea beast”

Horrified, Connie’s mouth hangs open as he stares at his friend like he’s grown a second head while the rest of you just contain another fit of laughter, Jean almost choking on his kakigori.

As soon as you find a small opening to stand in line by the shateki stall, you understand why Sasha was so eager to try target shooting all of a sudden. Niccolo is there with his friends, waiting for his turn, and as soon as he spots her his eyes just light up. You gently untangle her fingers from your sleeve and give her a little push as encouragement.

“Where’s Eren?” Armin stands in line next to you, Connie and Jean excitedly having a chat with other acquaintances of theirs just behind.

“He met a friend, I wanted to leave them some space” your tone is neutral but he furrows his brows.

“A friend? Who?”

“Some girl” you casually take a look around but you’re still unable to discern the prizes lined up on the shelves. Someone’s just lost if the disappointed groans coming from the front of the queue are an indicator.

“Ah” Armin clears his throat “well, are you having fun?”

A grateful smile tugs at your lips, relief settling over you like a soft blanket. He is the most considerate person you’ve ever met. How did this group of extraordinary people got lucky enough to find each other? You can’t help but think it’s a little unfair. It’s more than luck, maybe it’s destiny for them. Another pang of jealousy sticks in your stomach like an invisible needle.

“I’m never going to forget it. Not just this night, the whole…” you stop, because it feels so unfairly minimizing to address the whole thing as just a holiday.

“Vacation?” he’s gentle with the word, makes it sound way less depressing than what you would have. You acknowledge his reply with a little nod.

“You know…” he trails off “you could stay”

Just like that. You could stay. And it sounds so real, so doable, it breaks your heart.

“I really can’t” you murmur, head hanging low to hide the embarrassing teary eyes. You hadn’t anticipated to feel so at home among strangers who welcomed you in a heartbeat, kind and unpretentious and affectionate in a way you’ve never experienced. Saying goodbye it’s probably going to be one of the hardest things you’ll ever have to do.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you” Armin gently grazes your shoulder and you just have to smile. You trust him enough to know he’s not going to mock the wetness of your eyes.

“No, don’t apologize. I guess I’m just going to miss you all”

“We really are the most unplanned part of the entire holiday, aren’t we?” he smiles too.

“Yeah, thank god you are”

Armin melts in a sweet laugh but doesn’t have the chance to say anything because suddenly, Connie’s arms are enveloping the both of you, squeezing so hard you let out a playful groan.

“Why’s he the only one who gets to hear it? I wanna hear you say how devastated you are about leaving us, too!”

“Connie!” Armin attempts to turn around, probably to flick his forehead, but he only laughs harder and, despite yourself, you do too.

“I’m devastated and I’ll miss you a lot!”

He squeezes even harder, Armin cursing under his breath.

“We’ll miss you too” and yet, Connie’s voice is gentle to the ear, in sharp contrast with the suffocating embrace he’s holding you in. If you had any space to move around, you’d squeeze him too.

When you finally manage to get to the front of the line and it’s your turn to pick up the popgun, Sasha is still deep in conversation with Niccolo and you seem to be suddenly presented with a fun way to simmer some of the frustration still boiling in your core. Perfect.

You’re quicker than Armin and casually snatch the little pot of cork from the man owning the stall. There isn’t a specific prize you’re after, although the Squirtle plushie looks quite appealing.

You quickly learn that your aim sucks and Connie’s snickering from behind you at every missed shot is not helping. You appreciate Sasha interrupting her relentless flirting to cheer you on, though. That is until something warm and solid and oddly familiar presses against your back, bigger hands enveloping yours right after you push another cork into the barrel.

“You have to get the barrel closer to the target” of course his breath is hot on your neck, cheek grazing the shell of your ear as he corrects the position of your arms.

You huff but maintain your composure.

“What are we aiming at?” he whispers and this time you know it’s deliberate, the way his lips brush against your skin. He’s such a…

“Squirtle” you challenge and Eren hums, certainly not one to shy away from a challenge.

And sure enough, after knocking over a packet of chewing gum and a rubik’s cube, with a well placed shot you actually manage to bring down your target. It’s infuriating.

He grins as he hands you your prize and you roll your eyes.

“Please know I find it extremely annoying, how good you are at everything”

“You’ve never seen him play soccer” Jean’s grumbling is a welcome distraction from Eren’s eyes boring into yours but it doesn’t last long enough, thanks to Armin who drags him away and towards another food booth. How they even have any space left for more food, is beyond your understanding.

“Took me some time to find you guys, it always gets more crowded ahead of the show” Eren briefly glances at Sasha and flashes her a smile before redirecting his attention to you.

“I catched a goldfish for Connie” you internally cringe at your pathetic attempt at changing the topic. But Eren smiles, genuinely incredulous.

“Are you kidding? He finally gets to have one?”

You shrug, mirroring his smile.

“Fuck, can’t believe I missed that”

“Can’t believe you missed that either!” Sasha’s sour reproach chimes in even if she’s standing a few steps back. You mentally thank her but Eren’s glare meets no further comments.

“Hey, listen…” he clears his throat but is soon interrupted. You turn around and then peer downward when you feel something, or someone, pulling at your yukata. A young boy holding what you can only guess is his mom’s hand stares right back at you, expression as stoic as it can be.

“Excuse me, miss” you have to bite back a chuckle as he bows “that’s my favorite pokemon, my brother tried to get it for me but couldn’t. I was wondering, if it’s not your favorite, can I have it?”

Your eyes flicker to his mom, who seems a little uncomfortable and directs you an awkward smile.

“I told him he could ask but there’s really no need…”

“What’s your name?”, you return her smile but look down at his serious little face again.

“Hiro, miss”

“Of course you can have him, Hiro” you hand him the plushie and the biggest smile splits across his face as he holds it flush against his chest “my favorite’s Lapras. Water types are just the best, aren’t they?”

“Lapras is cool” Hiro condescends “but Squirtle is cooler!”

You all laugh, his mom erupting in several thanks and him turning around to wave at you before disappearing among the crowd. It makes you a little bitter not to have a little memento from such a special evening but it only lasts a second. It’s nice to know that Squirtle is going to end up in a loving home.

“It’s almost time, we need to head to the beach!” Sasha’s excited chirp has you turning around once more, Eren’s warm smile stays in your peripheral vision as you meet her gaze.

“Time for what?” you ask, tilting your head to the side slightly.

“The firework show!” Niccolo worms his way into the conversation and flashes you a thrilled grin.

“Let’s go!” Armin and Connie, standing a little farther, signal for your little group to hurry.

“I’ll catch up” you feel Eren’s warm hand press onto your back, giving you a gentle push. You deem unnecessary to investigate further, maybe he wants to go look for the girl he couldn’t dedicate the necessary attention to and invite her to watch the show with him. Who are you to intrude, or worse, wonder? You give him a quick nod and catch up with Armin and Connie, Sasha and her new companion right behind as you all head to the beach. You think it’s sweet that Niccolo has decided to ditch his group to tag along with her and you genuinely hope that whatever may be blossoming between the two, ends up working out. She deserves it.

As expected, the beach is packed with people sitting on colorful towels or standing, some bent over little wooden tables or balancing small pieces of paper against their friends’ backs to write down wishes that will soon be entrusted to the sea. You all take turns to write yours and when Jean hands you the thin piece of paper, it takes a few seconds to wrap your mind around what you feel like asking for.

A path, maybe. Something to follow to get wherever it is you’re supposed to be going. Or maybe the strength to leave, not to close yourself off to the world again. Happiness for your new found friends, because they deserve every ounce of the genuine affection they so naturally spread around. Health for your parents. There’s a new found feeling pounding alongside your heart, you want to visit them soon and let them know that you miss them and that you’re so sorry for not having been able to see them more. You want to share that you’re going to look for a new job and that hopefully you’ll be okay soon. Hell, you even want to tell them about this entire holiday. Sit on the familiar, faded tatami floor, share a cup of caramelized almonds and just let it all out. Would they even believe you can more or less surf now? Ah, you wish they could’ve met everyone. You wish they could’ve met Eren.

He comes shortly after you’re all settled on the towels people are dispensing on the beach, you’re left pretty much alone as everyone else is sitting next to whoever they’re busy talking to. Armin has run into a pretty blonde girl on the way to the beach, they seemed to know each other so for the second time in one evening you took a few steps back and gave them some space, made sure they could sit next to each other. Sasha and Niccolo are sandwiched together between Jean and Connie, the former is speaking on the phone with his lips curled into the biggest smile while his friend is seemingly socializing with a girl you don’t know, part of a bigger group that also seems keen to have a chat with a few strangers. The general atmosphere is so warm and, all things considered, the night has been so enjoyable, you don’t find it in yourself to be frustrated or disappointed anymore.

Eren doesn’t have anyone with him as he plops down next to you with a telltale grin.

“What?” you ask, tossing him a smile back.

“Nothing. Just lookin’ at you” he shrugs and you don’t buy it for one second but play along, gently nudging his shoulder with yours.

“Yeah, that happens a lot” for a second you don’t believe he’s going to remember the silly exchange that took place on the late afternoon of your first surfing lesson, so many days ago. The way his smile grows, tells you otherwise.

“People lookin’ at you?”

“You looking at me”

“Ah” lips pursed, he nods as if to indicate an obvious, given fact “might be because you’re beautiful”

“Ahh…” you mock, a weak attempt at dissimulating your self-consciousness “you fell prey of the charming tourist!”

He nudges your shoulder with his this time, tongue in cheek.

“Guess I really did”

Your chuckles melt into one another and you realize it’s probably never going to be possible to associate the rolling of waves and the salt in the breeze that soothes your feverish skin to anything else but him.

There’s a bunch of people by the shore, bent down to fill shells with small pellets while the latecomers frantically attempt to scribble down their wishes to send off the last remaining paper ships.

“Nothing happened with her” Eren stares at his friends as he speaks, quieter and attentive with his choice of words “we ran into each other and shared a beer, that’s all”

A beat passes, one where it’s hard not to acknowledge the absurd, unjustified relief washing over you.

“It’s none of my business” you’re not looking at him either, in fact your head is turned the opposite way, eyes focused on the little paper ships being slowly released into the dark ocean waters.

“It’s not” he affirms “but I wanted you to know”

So considerate and way too respectful of a person that’s supposed to be nothing more than an easily accessible reliever. It does something funny to your stomach.

“I think she likes you” why are you insisting? You shouldn’t care at all, it’s not your life and it’s not your place. You’re just a comma in the story.

“Too bad” Eren clicks his tongue and wishes you wouldn’t be avoiding his gaze, maybe then you’d recognize something within it without him needing to say the word.

As the paper ships continue to sail, a pin-drop feeling of despair suddenly washes over him at the thought of the material easily dissolving into the water, hundreds of wishes being swallowed and erased so easily. And still, in some distorted way, they’ll keep existing. Is that what he’s going to become for you, is that what he is? Just some paper figure that will lose consistency as soon as you step on that plane? Yeah, it’s exactly what he is and he was fine with it. Until each day spent with you has given him the feeling of wanting to be more than a fleeting detail in your summer, more than a cute story you’re gonna recall with friends and lovers once you’re back to a life he doesn’t belong to.

Will they recognize the crease you get between your eyebrows whenever you frown, deep in thoughts you never share? Do they know how you like your coffee, have they ever witnessed the charming inclination of your flirting? Are they already familiar with your witty comebacks and the way you laugh at jokes you don’t find funny just so that the other person doesn’t feel bad?

Did they ever have to bite back amused grins each time you tried to contain and swallow your annoyance only to fail miserably and explode in the face of clients who were being rude to Sasha? It was only a matter of time before you decided to help her on the mornings she was short on staff, until Niccolo showed up and made it easier. And yet you still feel the same responsibility to look after her, the same way you do for everyone else.

When Jean mentioned having forgotten to get a refill of surfboard wax, you casually made a stop to the store on your way to the beach and threw the small box at him. If Connie laments the lack of inspiration for his sketches, certain he won’t be able to get the job done before the deadline the publishing house has given him, you have entire sessions in which you both sit down and exchange ideas for charactes and stories and concepts for plots inspired by your beloved books. When him and Armin are done with surfing lessons or tired enough to simply catch a break from riding waves, most times you’ll materialize by the shore with two glasses of frozen lemonade and a knowing grin.

Why shouldn’t he get to keep you? Why don’t you want to keep him, your affection apparently solid enough to take his hand but not to stay? Is his fate really to melt away and be shoved in a far corner of your mind as nothing more than a fun summer fling?

“I couldn’t find another plushie” he clears his throat a little and when you finally look at him again, suddenly everything feels right “but you probably wanted something to remember this night by, so” the small keychain dangles from his pointer finger, even in the dark you’re able to discern the small silhouette. It’s Lapras.

Your lips part in surprise as you carefully hook one finger in the metal ring to slide the keychain out of his grasp.

“I know it’s flat and everything but I couldn’t find anything better. If only someone didn’t feel like giving up the plushie I worked so hard to knock down…” the teasing is good-natured and it draws an incredulous smile as your fist closes around the silly gift.

The firework show starts right as you meet his playful gaze, dozens of shells launched simultaneously in a cascade of shimmering yellows, greens and reds all reflecting in starry eyes that get to be so bright despite the darkness. The hand that’s not squeezing the keychain hard enough for the metal to painfully dig into your palm fists the towel you’re sitting on, it’s too close to the edge and you can feel little grains of sand making their way underneath your nails. Eren inches closer the same as you do, any other noise fades in the background when all you can hear is the loud thumping of your heart in your chest and all you can feel is the warmth of his breath on your lips as your noses are close enough to touch. Even when out of focus, he’s beautiful enough to take your breath away.

There’s hesitation, a thick tension coating the bubble enveloping the two of you and the small space left between what’s been and what’s about to change everything. He swallows, barely forcing himself to wait, to let you have control for once. But right as an invisible wire snaps and he gives in to gravity, closing whatever is left of the ridiculous distance between your bodies, someone plops down heavily next to you and you jump, lips grazing his chin as you turn with wide eyes. Eren exhales deeply, shutting his for a second.

“Can’t enjoy shit with Connie’s loud babbling” Jean pauses for a second, examining both your faces “did I interrupt something?” cautiously, his eyes dart from the shy look on your face to the way his friend’s glaring daggers at him.

“No” you’re quick to say “also, let him have his moment. You’ve been blushing on the phone for half an hour”

He opens his mouth in an outraged frown but is cut off by Eren’s chuckle.

“How’s Mikasa?” his arm reaches from around your shoulders to poke at his cheek with a harsh finger. Jean swats his hand away, cheeks dusted in pink.

“Shut up” he grumbles and makes a show of turning his attention back to the fireworks once more. With a giggle, you brush your hands off of the sand sticking to your sweaty palms, keychain secured in your lap. Eren doesn’t remove his arm from your shoulders, the weight of it equal parts foreign and comforting. You could easily get used to it, that’s what you think as you lean into him and let your head rest on his shoulder.

When you stumble back into his house late that night, sandals clumsily kicked off at the door, you collapse onto his couch right away. Your legs ache and your limbs feel heavy but the giddiness still hasn’t worn off and happiness is still stubbornly vibrating in your chest as you free your hair from the tight bun Sasha has forced it into. Eren sits next to you with a light groan, his feet hurt and he’s tired but it’s certainly not enough of a reason to refrain from pulling your legs up to rest on his lap, the gesture met with your weary giggle.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, head tilted back and half-lidded eyes focused on your smile.

“The best time” you think of the little keychain resting in the front pocket of your bag and smile a little more.

Eren hums, fingers lazily massaging your ankles as his gaze flickers to the ceiling. He wasn’t planning on asking you to come over, his kitchen’s a mess and bedroom’s even worse. But right as you were parting ways and hugging his friends—now your friends too—goodbye, he just found himself blurting the question out. And although you’ll most probably find it hard to believe, it’s not even the sex he’s after. He just wanted the time spent together to stretch a little longer, when’s he ever going to have the chance to look at you dressed like that again after all?

“M’gonna fall asleep here if you don’t stop that” with an airy giggle, you faintly kick one of his hands away from your ankle. Eyes back on you, his lips curl into a tentative smile.

“What if you actually do?”

You tilt your head against the couch pillows.

“Pass out on your couch?”

Eren huffs, lightly pinching your ankle.

“Sleep here”

“How do you still have enough energy left?” you mutter to yourself and carefully remove your legs from his lap, escaping his warm touch. With a yawn barely hidden behind your palm, you tiredly motion towards his bedroom “fine, but I hope you know you’re gonna have to do all the work”

He snorts out a light laugh.

“I meant sleep, sleep”

You stay still for a second, then furrow your brows.

“So you don’t… desire me?”

Eren’s face changes instantly, dropping in quiet shock.

“What? No, I mean yes, I didn’t mean…” you cut him off with a hearty laugh, thoroughly enjoying the tender blush that blossoms across his cheeks. It’s his turn to frown and you can barely catch the small pillow he throws at you, a worn out idiot muttered angrily that only has you laughing harder.

“Fine” it’s surprising how natural it feels to accept and trespass a limit you’ve always been so careful to set for your own sake “but all my clothes are at Sasha’s”

“Just wear one of my shirts” he grumbles as he gets up from the couch and you follow suit, giggling when he shoots you another glare. Even if still feigning annoyance, he grumpily apologizes for the mess as he digs into his closet and picks up a clean shirt for you. You recognize it as he hands it, it’s one of the ones he throws on at the beach, usually when taking breaks at the cafe in between lessons.

“I’ll leave you to it” he clears his throat but then suddenly stops, one foot outisde the room and hand resting on the door knob “would you want me to sleep on the couch?”

Confused, you return a perplexed look.

“Why would I want that?”

Eren lightly scratches the back of his neck, not really sure how to word something you probably wouldn’t even guess he’s been paying attention to. You’ve never stayed, you have never spent an entire night in his bed. He never got to wake up next to you and has no idea if you’re a kicker or a bed hogger but that isn’t to say he hasn’t been dying to find out.

He doesn’t know how to properly say it so he simply resorts to the first true thing that comes to mind.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable”

“You never make me uncomfortable”

The reply catches him by surprise, not because he finds it hard to believe but because you’re rarely ever this direct, gaze not faltering for a second while locked to his. With a small, almost shy nod, he shuts the door behind him to give you some privacy while you get changed.

He plans on keeping himself busy by tidying up the kitchen, frowning at his morning self who thought it’d be a good idea to leave a plate of unfinished eggs by the sink, leftovers of his breakfast now encrusted to the surface. But before he has the chance to at least attempt to scrape the remnants of what was once a decent portion of sunny side-up eggs, you peek through the door and call for him with a voice so thin Eren barely hears you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taking notice of your embarrassment.

“I don’t know how to take it off” you murmur and it takes everything in him not to chuckle. But it appears that you have memorized the meaning of each twitch of his lips, must be why you snort.

“I’ve never worn a traditional one! And I don’t want to ruin it, s’not mine” you grumble, not even giving him the time to acknowledge your fair reasons before disappearing behind the door once again. Eren clears his throat to disguise the little laugh that slips past his lips and prays you haven’t heard it as he makes his way to his bedroom.

You’re sitting on the bed, look at him with those big eyes of yours when he enters the room and for a fleeting moment he selfishly thinks he doesn’t want you to take the yukata off at all. Perhaps part of the night is still clinging to it, maybe taking it off means discarding each new, little moment tying you to him and starting from square one. Because he didn’t make up all those fragments still frozen in time and his memory, did he? His fingers in between yours in public for the first time, that look in your eyes when you took the keychain in your hand, the way he almost, almost got to…

“Hello? Do I have to call Sasha?” you’re standing now, waving a hand in front of his face. Eren blinks, snapping back to reality.

“Turn around” he demands, voice hoarse. You comply, mentally kicking yourself because of how the mere pitch is enough to send a shudder down your spine. It’s all you can think of as his fingers work their way through Sasha’s intricate ribbon, a few curses being muttered for good measure as he fumbles with the fabric, tugging and tugging in hopes of loosening it enough to take the obi off. Your back is pressed to his chest with each pull and it takes a deep exhale to keep yourself from leaning into him the way you’ve been dying to do for the entire night.

He pulls the bow one last time, not without a grunt, and the knot can finally be easily untied. You catch the obi before it falls to the floor and carefully fold it to then place it on Eren’s desk. It’s fine, he’s done, you can take it from here. So why does he keep you in place, hands on your hips a gentle warning to keep still as his arms wrap around you and his chest is finally flush against your back?

His fingers find the tight knot of the cord resting above your waistline and take their sweet time untying it, your heart stuttering erratically against your rib cage. Eren wonders if you can feel his heart on your back, it’s throbbing almost painfully and he swears whatever is left of his chest fucking flutters when you release the tension in your shoulders and melt in the embrace the cord was nothing but a pathetic excuse to initiate.

Yeah, he’s invited you to stay over with no malicious intent but what the hell? The damn thing is coming off, what’s going to be left of the night if he doesn’t seal it on you somehow?

He doesn’t let the yukata slip off your body, instead he accompanies it. Eren takes a second to appreciate the fabric gliding easily from his fingers, so cool, smooth and slick it reminds him of water. You do too. Just like water, a stubborn river or an unstoppable downpour with its persistent dripping, you have drilled yourself into his very being and patiently shaped every corner to make sure it could accomodate you and no one else.

Of course you don’t see the point in staying still: patience wears thin whenever he’s there for you to have. You barely ever allow him to take his time, always so eager to get what you want and him yielding without fail against his better judgement. Look at what you’ve become, just because he’s never been determined enough to teach you any better.

As you spin in his embrace, Eren lets you have it your way for a moment. He lets you take his face in your hands and dips his head to meet you halfway, a whimper already easing from your throat as you command his lips to part with the tip of your tongue. Again, he indulges you, lets you lick into his mouth and clumsily untie his yukata, allows it to unceremoniously pool at your feet. But you attempting to drag him toward the bed with you is where Eren draws the line.

His hands are not smoothing over your hips anymore, they feel everything else as they rise to cup your face. He only allows himself one harmless nip to your bottom lip, nothing but a gentle warning as his hold grows firmer to keep you in place while he finally kisses you the way he’s been dying to for so long. It’s unrushed and deep and he hopes to god the slow swipes of his tongue over yours are sweet because he’s certain he doesn’t want to taste anything else now that he’s tasted you like this.

“Eren…” it’s the only thing you have enough air in your lungs to rasp when he shows enough leniency to let you breathe, pulling back only to nudge the tip of his nose against yours.

“I’m here” he whispers back, head dipping lower to lightly nip at the spot where your pulse taps against your skin so fast it’s almost flattering. The way he lightly sucks at the skin of your neck draws another whine.

The change of pace, those butterfly kisses he slowly drags across your jaw are a novelty so unexpected you have to tighten the grip on his arms, sharp nails digging into the skin of his biceps as you urge him closer and attempt to steady yourself at the same time because you hardly trust your legs at the moment. When you breathe out his name again, mind short-circuiting as your head falls back to grant him more access, he hums comfortingly.

“What is it?” it’s exhilarating how you’re melting like soft butter under his touch and yet he’s the one feeling delirious over a hunger with smoother edges that now accomodates something bigger, something as tender as the sound you let out with a shuddering breath when he gently scoops you up and kisses you again while attentively settling you on his bed. You keep him close, arms around his neck not loosening for a single moment.

“What is it?” Eren asks again in a murmur, big hands resting on each side of your thighs to make sure they remain locked around his waist, abdomen tense to keep his balance on his knees and avoid crushing you.

You’ve never seen a gaze so intense, you never took it slow enough to count his heavy breaths and notice the painful thumping of your heart nor the unfamiliar wooshing in your ears. Holding eye contact is overwhelming and your stomach clenches at the coldness of one of your legs when one of his hands abandons it, knuckles leaving a scorching trail of pure fire behind them as they gently graze the right side of your face.

He lowers his head but doesn’t kiss you, nose pressed to your cheek in a way that makes it hard for the both of you to breathe, in a way that feels raw and desperate.

“Tell me” he’s so close it feels like he’s whispering the words into your very bones, for a moment you think you can swallow them. The hand he gracefully sneaks between your bodies draws a breathless gasp.

I love you.

Time stops. The thought rings so sharply in your head, you’re convinced you’ve voiced it out loud.

You love him, of course you love him. How could you not?

It’s such a stupid revelation and there’s really no excuse, no plausible reason to justify the tears that sting the corners of your eyes.

I love you.

Eren pulls back to breathe, or perhaps just to look at you. Even if you remain out of focus from such close distance, even in the dim light that bleeds through the door into his dark bedroom, he sees enough. The tip of your nose, your furrowed brows, lips parted and swollen. He’s too busy thinking he wants you exactly like this, all the time, to notice the slight trembling of your body underneath him.

He’s certainly made his point about not being in any rush tonight but still he is waiting for something, it’s evident in those devastating irises piercing yours. You tighten the hold of your arms around his neck, a bitter taste on your tongue as you pull him closer to whisper the wrong thing against his lips.

“I need you”

Against all odds, he deems it enough. He can read all there’s to read in your gaze alone, he feels it in the familiarity of your fingers through his hair and is determined to hear it in all the ways he wants you to chant his name over and over again, in every possible pitch and inflection. He wants it to be a prayer and a revelation.

You already have him, all of him, and you don’t even know. So it’s only fair he makes sure you finally do.

You stir awake and the first things you register are the arm draped over your waist and the soft breath tickling your shoulder. Your body stills, frozen, equal parts terrified of waking him and absolutely scrambled by the rapid succession of resurfacing memories bound to the previous night.

The cautious, minimal turn of your head against the soft pillow results in a hitched breath. He’s so close already and only seems intent on scooting closer, unintelligible humming somehow louder than the thumping of your heart as his hold grows tighter and he nuzzles further into you, nose effectively buried in the crook of your neck, lips pressed to your skin.

You feel dizzy. Mind’s all over the place, unable to pull itself together and make sense of the events that hold the power to potentially disrupt you life, change everything you have so carefully tried to keep together.

Not a single time Eren has been bad at sex, he’s never taken your pleasure for granted nor has he ever chased his without first making sure you were either getting your fair share or felt the determination to focus on him and only him. It just took a couple of encounters to memorize your body, the angles and rhythms and grips and praises and sometimes the harsher words that render you either boneless or a mess whose loudness he never even attempts to swallow.

Eren can be attentive, rougher and impatient on certain days, slower and languid on rainy afternoons, when he gets you ready for him with such care pleasure melts into pure anguish. It’s never enough, you always need more of him and are not even shy enough to hide it anymore, shamelessly asking with an all-consuming force gradually blurring into straight up demanding. That’s when his low chuckle echoes like a melody. He enjoys every second of the reactions that showcase the effect he has on you.

But everything about last night felt different, from the way he kept looking at you to the newfound feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours over your head while the most tender whispers guided you through your high.

He’s done nothing short of worshipping you, featerlight kisses trailing from your ankles to your inner thighs, the slightest touch more than enough for your back to arch, every inch of your body and nerves catching fire as he kept stroking your hair and pressing his lips to your eyelids, all while reassuring you of you good you were being for him, how beautiful you looked, how perfect you felt. It’s a miracle you didn’t end up melting into a puddle underneath him, because that’s where he kept you the entire time, never once allowing your hands to grant him relief or your mouth to do anything else but welcome his. It was just you, nothing else seemed to matter in his entire universe and Eren didn’t so much as catch his breath until you were reduced to a babbling, limp mess that couldn’t even think about how to spell his name correctly.

And then he’s kept you close, pulled you into his chest as if scared you were going to slip away like the sand you probably brought inside the house with those sandals anyway. He’s kissed your forehead, the apples of your cheeks, all while the pads of his fingers were busy drawing lazy, airy figures along the curve of your spine, the very last sensation you remember before falling asleep in an embrace so warm and protective.

He’s made love to you. What’s more, he’s made love to you like nobody else ever has and now there’s no further ignoring it. God knows if you’ll have the strength to walk away from it at all.

“Hi” you wince when his sleepy drawl vibrates against your skin, lips sealing the simple greeting right below your ear. It’s the first time you wake up next to him, the thought is enough to have the rate of your heartbeat spike.

“Hi” you whisper back. His hand traces a smooth pattern along your side, up and down, then it settles right where your ribs reside, thumb grazing the skin gently and feeling the little valleys in between the cartilage.

“How are you feelin’?” he’s still not raising his head, position either too comfortable or simply ideal to give you some extra time to adjust to… everything.

“Good” you murmur but Eren senses your discomfort and can feel the stiffness of your body. So he withdraws his arm and scoots away, retreating to his side and placing his head back on his pillow instead of using you as one. But now you can meet his half-lidded gaze and lazy smile, as charming in the early morning as it is in the middle of the night.

“How are you feeling?” you can’t help but ask in turn, which is weird and formal and draws a low chuckle.

“Never better” although he feels more than better, he feels the luckiest he’s ever been. He feels disgusting and psyched. He feels so in love.

“Great” you clear your throat as you pull the thin sheet further up. Eren keeps looking at you like he’s foolishly trying to map out your features. As if he needs to do that, as if they’re not already burned into his memory.

“Hey” he warns, fingers delicately flicking your forehead “no freaking out before breakfast”

You peer up at him from long lashes.

“I’m not freaking out” of course you are and of course he knows but that won’t stop you from frowning in protest, mockingly distorting his words.

“Sure you aren’t” he smiles to himself and rolls onto his back to rub his eyes with a loud yawn that has you giggling.

“What are you, a blue whale?”

He clicks his tongue, feigning annoyance as he stretches and intentionally avoids your gaze.

“That’s no way to talk to the man who’s about to put together the best breakfast you’ve ever had”

Although Eren doesn’t want to get up at all. He doesn’t need food nor water as long as he gets to have you right there in his bed, as long as he gets to hold on to the hope of having you like this again and again.

“Whatever we’re going to do about this presumption of yours” you hide your smile in his pillow but he simply shrugs, not sparing you a glance as he gets up with a groan and collects some clean underwear from one of his drawers.

He only leaves the room after he’s playfully thrown his shirt at you, softness settling in the corners of his lips as he suggests you take a shower while he carries out his breakfast duty. Your heart swells at the attentiveness of it all, at the space he’s trying so hard to give you in hopes that you feel comfortable enough to catch your breath. Not to run away.

With a long, drawn out sigh, you comply.

The shower feels nice and his shampoo smells so good you don’t mind the absence of your coconut scented one. Of course he also has conditioner, there really is no other explanation for that hair.

As you tiptoe back into his bedroom wrapped in nothing but a skimpy towel, you catch the glorious sound of something sizzling in a pan and it’s enough to bring a smile to your face while you shut the door and rest your back against it for a moment. Your eyes land on Sasha’s yukata, staring back at you from the ground in all its glory. You rush to pick it up and carefully fold it, embarrassment burning your cheeks at how little you’ve cared about not ruining it. Along with the cord and the obi, you let it slip into an empty paper bag big enough to contain it because there’s no way in hell you’re walking home in that.

The shirt Eren has given you is long enough to cover your ass but certainly not enough to step outside without drawing scandalized looks along the way, so you dig into his closet some more and pick a pair of bermuda shorts that will certainly look ridiculous on you but remain the best option currently on hand.

After patting your hair dry with the towel to the best of your abilities, you grab the bag, your phone from his nightstand, and pray to be ready for whatever is coming. The flutter in your chest is not entirely unpleasant, right? There must be a way to make this work. Whatever it is.

It’s love, you goddamn idiot, a voice whispers from inside your dizzy mind. You pay it no mind.

“That was fast” Eren looks at you for just a second before returning his attention to whatever he’s cooking. You catch the smile anyway.

“Smells too good” you leave the bag to rest against the table leg and plop down on a chair. It feels like your seat already, given that he’s placed the mug you usually use right there, filled with coffee to the very brim. When he spins to serve the breakfast he’s prepared, Eren rolls his eyes upon meeting your already skeptical gaze.

“Just try it” he mumbles “I got a different one”

For you.

As you take a tentative sip, you notice everything he’s filled the table with. He’s pushing a portion of french toast in your plate right from the pan and taking a smaller one for himself, but there’s also a separate plate available for all the other options: fried eggs, herb cream cheese, strawberry jam, some honey, toasted bread.

He sits down next to you and meets your amazed gaze only to crack a boyish grin.

“I didn’t know what you liked”

“I’m impressed” you swallow the lump of whatever feeling got caught in your throat along with the coffee and raise the cup to indicate the object of your praise. As if he hasn’t already called all your bluffs.

“I get that a lot” he sticks his tongue out and it’s your turn to fondly roll your eyes.

It’s the first time you taste something he’s cooked and it’s so very painful to find out he’s good at yet another thing.

The intimacy of sharing a quiet, sunny morning at his kitchen table is not as overwhelming as you thought it’d be: he holds the power of making it easy and special just like everything else. You feel eerily at home, suddenly filled with giddy excitement at the prospect of experiencing more of these mornings. At the idea of him welcoming you into his everyday life with such ease, willing to buy expensive coffee if it means you accepting to stay long enough to drink it.

It almost makes you want to say it. As you laugh at the funny story involving one of the students he’s going to teach to in an hour, with your mouth stuffed with french toast and the urge to collect the cream cheese remnants from the corner of his lips with yours, you almost blurt it out.

I love you.

I love your smile and your kindness and how you stay awake for me if the wind blows too hard and I know you wonder if my roof creaks just like yours does. I love your life and your friends and how there’s so much space for everyone in a heart that may as well be as big as your beloved island. I love the touch of your hands and how you kiss me on the way home if no one else’s around and now I wish you could kiss me awake each morning.

“Stop” he playfully throws a crumpled up piece of his napkin at you. It hits you right between your brows.

“What? I’m not doing anything” you throw it back but he dodges it.

“You’re overthinking”

“I’m thinking exactly the right amount”

“Care to let me in so I can decide that?”

You open your mouth to entertain more of the familiar banter you hold so close to your heart but your phone screen lights up and the text you get is enough to capture your attention right away. Your heart drops to your stomach as you read it, the french toast still melting on your tongue now tasting bad enough to draw a pang of pure nausea.

“You okay?” you recognize the sincere worry in his voice, even as he attempts to keep it light.

“Yeah” locking your phone again, you place it face down on the table once more. You don’t think you can stomach a single other bite of food.

“I have to go now, will stop by Sasha’s to bring her yukata back. I borrowed that bag of yours, is that okay?” you’re not looking at him as you get up and he does too, confused.

“Yeah, of course” he follows suit as you quickly grab the bag still resting on the couch and shove your phone in it. Eren doesn’t have the time to enjoy the glorious sight that is you in his clothes, even with those ridiculous shorts everyone will surely be able to recognize as menswear.

But just as he thinks you’re going to leave him without sparing him a single glance, you stop in your tracks right before the door and turn around, the smile on your lips so artificial it makes his stomach churn with a sour feeling that erases all the sweetness that has coated his morning up until this very moment.

“Will you come over, later?”

There’s softness in the way you direct the question to him and he holds on to it for dear life.

“If you want me to” he replies with the same softness and something inside you just melts.

What you have to do is terrible, cruel in its unfairness, but unavoidable. So you should get to bask in a fantasy for a few seconds more, right? You should get to delay his disappointment, to give him a few more hours of peace of mind.

It’s heartbreaking, the way he perks up when you take his hand and bring the chapped knuckles to your lips.

“Of course I want you to” you don’t let go as you rise onto your tiptoes and tilt your head in a silent plea. You wish the relief he exhales right into your mouth could take root in your lungs.

When Eren kisses you, the crackling electricity is still there. But it’s the tenderness that makes your eyes burn, the way he takes your face in his palms and squeezes gently to make sure you’ll be looking at him as he pulls back enough to return your dazed gaze.

“We’ll figure it out” he says it so simply, so genuinely, you’re not sure you can get out of his house before he notices the tears.

You find it in yourself to nod and reach for another peck, because it’s probably going to be your last anyway.

I love you.

It’s that thought that carries you through the day, repeated over and over in your head until your lips follow suit and you’re muttering it like a madwoman.

You let the brief time spent with Sasha soothe your mind and it’s actually fine that she notices the redness of your eyes and the heartache embedded in your blank stare.

“Did he do something to upset you?” sometimes she reminds you of Armin, the attentive way she adapts her energy to match the one of whoever she is with is one of your favorite things about her. Although you’d much prefer a bubbly distraction at the moment.

“No, never” you reply with a small, bitter smile “I’m the one who’s about to do it, actually”

You tell her because she asks and because she’s part of the people you’re gonna have to say goodbye to. Since you’re absolutely not planning to go to the beach, you take your chances and ask her the odds of her breaking the news to everyone else.

“There’s no way in hell” she retorts with a glare so sharp it’s almost funny “they’d think you don’t regard them as friends. Connie would never forgive you”

With a light huff, you deflate against the backrest of her couch. Of course she’s right, they deserve a proper goodbye.

“I’ll come by tomorrow” you capitulate with a weary sigh and Sasha takes one of your hands in hers with a smile that never reaches her usual bright eyes.

“I’ll miss you” she almost whispers it and it takes everything in you not to choke up on your own I’ll miss you too as you squeeze her in the tightest hug you’ve probably ever given to another human being.

The first thing you do when you get home is get changed, his clothes are neatly folded and placed at the end of your bed because you can’t bear the idea of more of his scent clinging to your skin: you’re not even entirely sure the shower was enough to wash it off.

With a certain degree of fatigue, you pull the suitcase out from your closet, the sweltering heat of the room suddenly suffocating and unbearable. Even with the AC turned on, it feels like you can’t breathe.

You tear your clothes from their hangers, snatch them out of your drawers and toss them in your luggage, not even bothering to fold any of them. It’s better to do it today, you’re not sure you’re gonna have the strength to do it tomorrow and you definitely don’t want to spend your last day packing up.

Robert Lowell’s book is placed carefully on top of the chaotic mountain of clothes, it’s a gift you deem special and you’d hate to ruin it.

Connie’s sketch is stored in a plastic folder and you reserve it the same attentiveness as you put it right next to Armin’s book. It’s a stylized portrait of someone who barely looks like you: your eyes do not have that glow in them and your smile most certainly isn’t as bright. You like the overly accentuated features, he has a cool drawing style and it’s still so hard to believe he felt the urge to devote his free time to craft something so unique and meaningful just for you.

The sight of the tourist brochure draws a chuckle and you pick it up from your nightstand to open it and read Jean’s silly inscription for the umpteenth time.

She believed she could so she did: to a summer spent outdoors!

Right underneath, he’s scribbled a list of the best spots to visit, the vast majority of them comprising the forests he spends most of his mornings and afternoons guiding tourists through. You’re gonna miss his teasing smirk and predictable jokes, the way he nonchalantly worms his way into any conversation you’d be having with Sasha just to get a burger out of it.

One day you’re probably going to deem it hilarious, the fact that the brochure is what gets you. Fat, searing tears overflow at last, staining the stupid tank top Eren’s pulled over your head so many times you’ve lost count.

You end up sliding down to the parquet floor, knees to your chest as you sob pathetically, hiccup after hiccup until you’re shaking so bad you have to wrap your own arms around yourself to in an attempt to calm down. Phone screen lights up again and you catch the preview of a text from Sasha, one picture attached.

Developing this today, so you can take it with you!

It’s most probably from the previous night, the only group picture you’ve ever taken in two months. If you close your eyes, you can almost feel the familiar weight of Armin’s arm around your shoulders and Connie’s chin resting on your head.

You catch your breath at last, cheeks burning and eyes puffy. Your limbs don’t carry enough energy to do anything else besides booking a one-way ticket, tossing your phone away and crawling onto your still perfectly made bed.

It’s funny, the hollowness your chest tightens around as you shut your eyes: you could swear the exact same spot had been so impossibly full of love and light just a few hours prior. It’s been so easy to get transported into some sort of fantasy world, a perfect reality that didn’t include your actual life at all. But you do have a life you have to get back to and it’s been foolish of you to allow yourself to forget about it. There’s a job offer you cannot afford to refuse because you’re two months behind on your rent, there’s the uncomfortable amount of stuff still waiting to be collected from your ex boyfriend’s house, the now irretrievably shifted dynamics of your friend group you have to navigate. And yet.

In two months you’ve met people that have made this holiday so special. Talking to them has given you the courage of opening yourself to the world like you used to do when you were younger and filled with hope. It felt like stepping into the sun after a long, dark, tiring night.

Who knew you could feel so free, wrapped in foreign embraces and inspired by unfamiliar routines, who knew you could meet someone who’d make you feel so lost and then, suddenly, found. Eren’s made you fall for him little by little, the invisible trickle of a covert fountain concealed by whispered conversations in your bedroom, failed dinners whenever you’d stubbornly insist on not letting him anywhere close to your stove, afternoons spent with your feet buried in the boiling sand in hopes to catch as little as a glance, the fleeting flash of a grin shot your way. He’s made you fall for him gently, the idea of crashing to the ground never once crossing your mind, bones still perfectly intact even at the mercy of his touch.

Eren’s disrupted you while keeping you whole. Even better, perhaps he’s given you an entirely new form. One that adapts easily to life and chases adventures and isn’t afraid of being seen.

You hate the idea of leaving him behind, insides churning at the mere thought of telling him you’re leaving with such short notice. But maybe it’s for the best. Those three words have been left hanging in the air after all, segregated in your minds and engraved in your bodies. You’re content with tricking yourself into believing that it’s a little less real, if you don’t say it. You feel it and perhaps he feels it too, but you’re just in time to nip what it is and whatever it may become right in the bud.

Unsurprisingly, the nap ends up proving to be absolutely useless and you wake up a couple hours later with a throbbing headache and an almost debilitating thirst. The birds outside are chirping mockingly as you lethargically drag yourself out of your bed and out of the room, the mess of clothes, bags and luggages still reigning supreme right in the middle of it clumsily stepped over without so much as a glance.

The living room is filled with corners you can’t look at, although you briefly wonder if the books stacked by the tv will be collected and eventually find a new owner.

After gingerly pouring yourself a glass of cold water, you climb onto the kitchen counter and check your phone. Sasha’s already had the picture developed is what you can guess from the picture of a big envelope she’s sent you a few minutes ago. There’s a flight confirmation email in your inbox and a text from Armin, asking why you’re not at the beach yet.

You actually end up turning the tv on at full volume while you finish packing, taking a break only to down a dry sandwich when the squeezing of your stomach gets impossible to ignore. No more pathetic tears gather along your lashes for the rest of the afternoon, turns out packing your things is a lot easier when you don’t care about how you’re putting them away. All your clothes are probably going to need a heavy ironing session once you’re back in Tokyo, quite the minor inconvenience.

When Eren arrives, he announces his presence as loudly as usual, dragging his saccharine helloooo because it always makes you laugh. He has bags in his hands because he’s once again stopped by the market just in case and is already grumbling about how you never keep your damn door locked when you get up from the couch to greet him.

“You really need to stop filling my fridge with so much food” the good-natured scolding meets the skeptical click of his tongue as he starts pulling out the groceries and piling them up on your table.

“Says the girl who raids said fridge and leaves it empty in the space of one evening”

You huff but Eren cuts you off before you can put together a comeback.

“It’s just some of Kukiko’s fruit and a few snacks”

“You mean those rice cakes, candy corn and ketchup chips you love?”

With a fond roll of the eyes, he finishes emptying the bags and waves a box of chocolate pralines half an inch from your nose. Your gaze flickers to the different products scattered across your table: peaches, figs, your favorite tourist-friendly ice cream and cream filled wafers. There’s just a tiny box of rice cakes.

“I actually wanted to get proper food and cook a nice dinner, you know, because you barely touched my fantastic breakfast” he flashes you a quick smile “but then I thought, I know this great place we’ve never been to and they make an incredible pan-fried salmon”

Eren knows something’s up, he obviously does. But that doesn’t stop him from taking your cheek in his hand to gently tilt your head up and let you meet his painfully hopeful stare.

“Will you let me take you out, tonight?”

Will you let me do this right?

Instead of taking a step back, you place your hand over the back of his to press his palm deeper into your skin. He doesn’t really know at what specific point he starts holding his breath.

“Eren, I’m leaving”

There’s a slight spasm of his lips, ona that would’ve probably been imperceptible to a less trained eye.

“I’m aware” there’s a sour harshness in his tone he doesn’t try to bite back “I was hoping we could’ve talked about this later on”

Of course he knows you’re leaving. Still, the fact that this is the first thing you deem reasonable to bring up after the previous night, after that morning, is hurtful. Hell, he isn’t even allowed a full day of timeout from reality? Are you really that eager to remind him?

You press his palm a little harder.

“In two days”

The silence that settles over the small room is loud enough to make your ears ring, cheek brutally left cold as if your skin has suddenly turned scorching.

“What?” he attempts an incredulous smile “what d’you mean in two days? You said you’d leave in September, it’s barely August”

You take a quivering breath, forcing yourself not to lower your gaze.

“Something came up. I’ve been offered a job I really need and they want me in Tokyo by the end of this week, I really didn’t plan for it to—”

“Did you know?” he interrupts you with an aggressiveness you don’t recognize “this morning, as you were leaving, did you know?”

“Yes” you swallow the painful lump constricting your throat. He lets out a bitter laugh, one hand running through his hair in disbelief.

“Did you know last night, too? Before we fucked, I mean. That’s all it was to you anyway” he storms past you and before you can even think of stopping him, he’s pushed the door to your bedroom open. The sight of your packed up luggage makes him want to throw up on the spot.

It’d be so easy to indulge his version, allow it to gain consistency and distance yourself from whatever it is you’re both feeling. But you can’t bear the thought of betraying him twice, you decide you can’t carry the weight of a lie so big so you let it melt on your tongue.

“You know that’s not true” it’s pathetic, really, the strangled way words leave your mouth. Eren chuckles again, a sound so empty and dull compared to his real laugh. It breaks your heart, it makes you feel as if something’s clawing at your chest from the inside.

“What was it, then?” he challenges, it only takes two very angry, wide strides and he’s towering over you again “you can’t even say it”

“What good would that do?!” it’s unfair, it’s really fucking unfair that he’s handling the whole situation as if it’s hurting him more than it’s hurting you “what if I say it, then what? This entire thing was bound to end anyway! Even if I stayed, how do you know we wouldn’t end up going our separate ways in a month anyway?” so long for keeping tears at bay, you think as you angrily wipe your cheeks until they burn from the unforgiving friction.

“Fucking hell” Eren shakes his head with another mocking smile that makes your blood boil.

“What? Look at us, you’re already second-guessing everything about me!” you push past him and toward your couch, just to have something to lean against because your legs feel wobbly “acting like you’re the only one affected by this bullshit situation” words don’t come out as harsh as you’d like, dying in your throat instead as you fail to hold back a sob.

Eren stays by the sink with that irritating condescension he just couldn’t fucking spare you. As if you’re not shattered already, wondering how you’ll be able to put the pieces back together once more now that the edges are rougher and different and will probably never match each other again.

“You can’t do this. You can’t make me fall for you and then leave” he spits the last word like it’s venom and it actually burns on his lips. Eren’s never actually planned to ask you to stay, he never thought he’d be selfish enough. Turns out he was wrong all along.

When he says it, you can’t help the way your head lifts in surprise. He’s said it and there’s really no turning back now, no place to hide or run away to. It’s all over him, the disappointment you feel so responsible for, it’s in the way his fists seem to shake and in the sharp edge of his tight jaw. It’s in the way his eyes lack their usual spirit as they look back at you.

“That’s right” he mistakes the shock on your face for dread and allows for another smile to split across his face, nothing but a cruel mask distorting his features “bet that’s the worst fucking thing you ever heard, huh?”

It is. Because now your heart can’t stop its swelling and the flutter in your chest feels suffocating. It is, because somehow he’s fallen for you the same way you’ve fallen for him and if he’s experiencing half the sorrow currently knocking the wind out of your lungs, perhaps you should find it in yourself to be gentler.

“I’m sorry” you whisper it quietly, with a slight shrug and fresh tears staining your cheeks “I’m not doing any of this to hurt you. I wish I could decide to stay, just like that, but I don’t have a job and I’m behind on rent and, fuck, I think even the only coat I own is still at my ex’s house and…”

“What are we?” he interrupts you once more but there’s no aggressiveness this time. He’s quiet as he steps closer but you don’t dare look him in the eyes, choosing to focus on the milk white carpet beneath your feet instead. However, Eren’s not having any of it. With new found, blind obstinacy, he gets close enough to gently grip your chin and demand your attention. You’re a terrible liar and, by now, he knows all too well where to look for a lie in your stare.

“Tell me” he lowers his voice almost in a plea and the lump in your throat only grows in size when you catch the redness framing his eyes.

“We’re friends” you whisper “before anything else. I hope we’re friends”

His grip on your chin tightens.

“What else?”

“Eren—”

“I’m in love with you” he sighs, in disbelief at how easy it’s been to pronounce the words out loud at last, a familiar albeit pained smile finally making its way to his lips as he lets you go “am I really that bad of a contender?”

But he lets go of your chin only to take your face in his hands right as new tears start rolling down your cheeks, unfazed by how useless it is for his thumbs to try and wipe them away. That’s finally him, embedded in the tenderness he holds you with.

“I want this” he mutters “I want you and yes, that may go away some day but you’re letting it go away now. You’re not even willing to try”

It takes so much effort to find it in yourself to gently grab his wrists and pull his hands down.

“You’re asking me to give up my entire life. Sometimes love isn’t enough, Eren, sometimes someone has to be an adult and do the right thing even if it shatters them”

“I’m guessing you’re the adult in this scenario whilst I’m being what, the irrational brat?”

“Stop putting words into my mouth” you tiredly wipe your cheeks again, so exhausted you can barely take another shaky breath in “you want me to stay. I can’t do that, even if I fucking hate that I can’t. You think you’re the only one with a broken heart in the scenario, as you called it, so feel free to turn this into another sad story you’re gonna recall with the next tourist girl you sweep off her feet”

Eren thinks a raw slap would’ve hurt less. He looks at you like you’re someone he can’t recognize and finally takes a step back with a slight nod of his head, acceptance slowly setting over his features.

A beat passes, one where the only sound filling the room is your accelerated breath.

“You never asked if I’d come with you”

And just like that, something slams against your ribcage but it couldn’t be your heart because you're certain it has stopped beating.

“You’d never do it” your tongue suddenly feels swollen in your mouth, too big and heavy to assist you in properly articulating a sentence “I know you’d never do it. You always say you can’t imagine yourself anywhere else” desperation gets the best of you and your pitch turns squeaky. Eren smiles another one of his sad smiles, the ones you’ve met today for the first time and are sure will haunt you in your dreams.

“Have you ever even thought of asking?”

For a few seconds, you believe those are going to be his last words to you. That is until he turns around by the front door, just a second, maybe to take a look at you for the very last time. That’s the real breaking point for whatever is left in your chest.

“Don’t expect me to be around to say goodbye, tomorrow”

A fragment of time is all it takes for him to be out, all signs of him having ever been there at all still scattered across your kitchen table.

The AC system of Armin’s car is currently not working and you only find out once you’re seated in a boiling passenger seat. He chuckles when you turn to look at him in pure horror.

“You wouldn’t have let me take you if I’d told you. It already took me two hours of convincing as it is” he reaches across you to roll down the window, the hint of a guilty blush tinting the tips of his ears. His hair is lighter now than it was in the early summer and the flush of his cheeks is harder to detect now that his skin is tanned.

“I could’ve taken the bus” you rest your back against your seat with a light frown: the parts of your skin that are not covered by your thin tank top stick to the scalding leather right away.

“I know” he offers a soft smile “but I really wanted to do this”

Armin hated the idea of you having to go alone much like everyone else but he was the only one free enough to have a few hours to spare that morning. Sasha insisted on letting Niccolo handle the cafe for the day but she doesn’t own a car and the backseat of Armin’s Ford Fiesta is already taken up by your luggage and backpack. You resisted up until the very end, stubbornyl insisting on being perfectly capable of reaching the airport on your own, mumbling some nonsense about not wanting to be a bother until Armin had raised a hand, resolute.

So I don’t even get to give my friend a ride?

Connie was the only one to laugh at the tears rapidly collecting in your eyes but it was a sweet, accomodating sound at odds with his usual exuberant cackle. Even he found it funny and kinda concerning that you still couldn’t grow accustomed to being considered their friend.

“Thank you” you return his smile and Armin nodds, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he starts the car.

The small vacation rental that has welcomed and taken care of you for more than two months shrinks and then disappears in the rear view mirror, the morning sun bouncing off the scraped off exterior you’ve grown fond of.

You now recognize the small streets, alleys and shops you pass by, going as far as to lean out of the window to check if Masaru-san, who always treats you to an extra muffin on the mornings you drop by to buy his fresh bread, is having a smoke outside his bakery.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Armin’s gentle voice draws you back into the boiling car.

“Sure”

He shoots you a quick glance.

“Have you at least told him that you love him?”

You suck a sharp breath in, caught entirely off guard. There was never a direct agreement of not mentioning The Topic during the one-hour drive but, given how considerate Armin always is, silly you kinda thought that’d be implied.

“I know it’s none of my business” he quickly adds because of course he can’t help himself “but I haven’t heard from him in two days and I’m kinda hoping he at least has that to hold on to”

“You haven’t heard from him in two days?” it made sense for him not to be at the beach when you dropped by to say your goodbyes, you never expected for him to show up anywhere else until he could be sure you’d be sitting on that plane but to disappear off the face of the earth? Not even talking to his friends?

“No. To be completely honest, we’re worried. He’s never done this before” Armin keeps looking ahead of him, tone oddly flat as if he’s having a conversation about the most casual topic.

“We had a fight” you mutter “didn’t exactly say goodbye on great terms. He’ll come around”

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question”

It’s not like him to be so pushy and you suddenly feel like the heat is too suffocating, the vehicle too small, your lungs too rigid.

“No” you clear your throat “but he knows”

There’s no point in denying or feeling embarrassed about it. You’re positive everyone knows anyway.

Armin hums, seemingly pensive, but doesn’t say anything. Your neck itches and the pads of your fingers start tingling.

“What?”

“Nothing”

“Armin, just tell me”

For fuck’s sake—

“S’just that Eren can be really dense. I bet he’s convinced this was nothing more than a summer fling for you”

That’s not true, he’s one of the smartest people you’ve ever met. Well, when it came to most things anyway.

“He knows” you insist, heart rate spiking for reasons not entirely clear. Armin shrugs.

“If you say so”

A beat passes, silence stretching past a comfortable interval.

“What if he doesn’t?” you challenge, exasperated “even better, he’ll get over it sooner!”

Armin lowers his head slightly, hands sliding to the sides of the steering wheel.

“He’s in pain” it’s not an accusation, just a mere observation. And yet it hurts all the same.

“I am too” why is it so easy for everyone to forget that?

Little do you know, Armin is perfectly aware. Everyone is aware. You’re wearing that pain on your disheveled hair and the bags under your eyes, it’s embedded in your dull tone and in how easily it now is for any word to draw tears.

It’s not like him to get involved in someone else’s life, especially when the situation is so raw and delicate but not even him is willing to just sit and watch two people mutually agreeing to ruin each other and leave it at that. It may not be his place but he’s prepared to dismiss his usual reluctance.

“I know” he’s driving way too slow for someone who’s supposed to rush you to the airport but you’re too distracted to notice “sorry, that was insensitive of me. You’re right, it’s for the best, he’ll come around soon enough”

You don’t say anything back, attention harshly grabbed by the view behind him. The sun is high already and reflects in the sparkling ocean you’ve grown so fond of. The sussuration of the waves lashing the shore doesn’t quite reach you but if you close your eyes and concentrate, you’re almost able to taste their pungent, salty smell.

Will Jean have some time to bring his surfboard to the beach in the afternoon, after a morning of work? Is the cafe as packed as it always is in the mornings, the usual mob of tourists forcing Sasha and Niccolo in an exhausting frenzy? Which table has Connie decided to bend over to try and finish that comic of his? Are his fingers stained with ink or did he go for the digital alternative today?

What is he doing? Can he afford to just disappear, neglect the surfing lessons?

You remember seeing Eren for the first time, running around by the shore accompanied by Jean with that charming smirk of his, occasionally asking strangers to join a volleyball match if they were short on players. You remember thinking wow, that’s a person that probably has it easy. He seems happy, is attractive enough to pull pretty much anyone. He sounded friendly and was literally smiling every single time you’d catch a glimpse of him, day after day, never short on energy. And then, you’re still not sure why or how, his eyes had actually found yours once, twice, then often enough for you to decide to do something about it.

You still see it all in your head, painfully vivid and oh so alive. It comes in unforgiving flashbacks, from the first time he took your hand in his to the way you fell asleep in his arms less than three nights ago. And now you’re going away and what if Armin is right? What if he doesn’t even know?

“Stop the car” you murmur, mind not even quite catching up with your mouth yet.

Armin glances at you.

“What?”

“Stop the car for a second” you can barely stop yourself from slamming the brakes firsthand, hand brought to the column of your throat in a silly attempt to calm down. He quickly but safely pulls over, the car coming to a full halt when he turns off the engine entirely.

The first time you drew a sincere laugh, the first hushed conversation you shared on a humid evening.

I’m in love with you. Am I really that bad of a contender?

“You okay?” Armin is now only slightly worried he’s gone too far as he takes in the way your chest is heaving.

Have you ever even thought of asking?

“Hey—” you unfasten your seatbelt and escape his touch, quite literally throwing yourself out of the car only to slam the door and lean against it. Armin gets out as well and rapidly walks around the vehicle to check on you.

“What’s wrong? I have water, d’you want water?” if you weren’t so out of breath, you’d find his panic amusing.

“I’m fine. Sorry, just… give me a sec” the smile you offer him is probably more of a grimace but he’s too kind to point that out anyway.

Armin tries to give you the space to calm down but judging by the beads of cold sweat forming on your forehead, the process isn’t exactly going well. He feels guilty, mainly because his entire strategy has tragically backfired and he is on the literal verge of profusely apologizing until you meet his concerned gaze with heartbreaking despair.

“You think I should go to him?” your voice trembles and it takes everything in him to hold back the biggest smile.

“With some urgency” he quips immediately, motioning toward the car. He’s been dying to drive you there the entire morning.

You take a step forward, allowing him to open the door for you but make no move to actually step in again.

“C’mon!” he’s openly smiling now.

A beat passes, you shoot the car a quick glance and then return his smile.

“Keep an eye on my suitcase, will you?”

And then you’re just gone, sprinting in the opposite direction, dangerously close to passing cars and absolutely deaf to whatever Armin is yelling from behind you.

Incredibly, your legs carry you across the entire main street and your exceptionally keen senses assist you in dodging bikes and pedestrians and you think you may have accidentally run past Connie on the sidewalk at some point because you recognize a familiar go get him! already fading in the distance as you race until your lungs feel a second away from exploding.

The strappy sandals you’re wearing are absolutely inadequate for the marathon you’re running underneath the scorching sun and people look at you funny when you melt against the stand of a greengrocer to catch your breath. Nevertheless, with a hand pressing to a chest that’s never felt as tight, you’re soon on your way again, lips stretched into a frenzied smile and heart beating fast from both the physical effort and your favorite kind of anticipation. The idea of seeing him again gets your blood pumping, every other care or issue or flight disappears, literally fades to nothing in comparison to what you’re feeling at the thought of being in his arms again.

And yet you falter once you’re at his door, one palm resting against it and throat burning with every breath you attempt to take in, sweat dripping from your chin and running down your back. You’re far from having a plan or a solution to offer, the only thing you’re currently certain of is that you’re not gonna board that plane today. The rest, you can figure out together.

It takes some persistance and a certain number of violent knocks, your nuckles are burning by the time he yanks the door open.

“Jean, I swear to god if this is you again—” Eren freezes when he sees you awkwardly standing on the doorstep, phone trapped between his cheek and shoulder as he was clearly in the process of tying his hair back.

“Hey” you smile but then frown, puzzled “wait, who are you talking to?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Then opens it again.

“Thank fuck, talk to you later, bye!” a familiar voice chirps on the other line and you shut your eyes for a second because how could you fall for the oldest trick in the book? Haven’t heard from him in two days your ass.

“What are you doing here?” his guard is very much up and by the look of those dark circles you can only guess he’s slept just as much as you in the last two days.

“Uh, so, really funny story” you chuckle, painfully aware of your racing pulse and ragged breaths “Armin was driving me to the airport and we got to the seafront and he started talkin’ about you not knowing that I love you and stuff, which would be absurd because I’m sure you’re pretty much aware even if I never actually said it” you pause to clear your throat and take a hand to the currently cramping side of your waist. “Anyway, he said you’re dense and he was worried because they haven't heard from you in two days which, I now realize was a blatant lie but the point is, I started thinking about you and how much I hated our fight and the idea of getting on that plane because, well, I’m in love with you, disgustingly so actually, and I’m sure I’ll find another job and my landlord will understand and I was kinda hoping we could have more time to figure things out so maybe I could stay a little longer? If you still want me” you finish what’s probably the most awful, embarrassing, pathetic speech in recorded history with a coughing fit, throat basically occluded by sand. Perhaps you should’ve accepted Armin’s water before deciding to run almost two miles in a 95 °F weather.

Eren’s blank stare is far from encouraging and the more the silence stretches, the less you think it was a good idea to barge in there unannounced. But right as you take a tentative step back, apology already taking shape on the tip of your tongue, he reaches over with lighting speed to grab your wrist and quite literally slams your body against his, trapping you in a suffocating embrace.

“If I still want you?” he pokes fun at your words, distorts them with open incredulity “you’re so stupid”

“Eren, stop, I’m so sweaty right now!” your voice barely comes out, muffled by the fabric of his shirt. He only squeezes you tighter against him, lips pressing to the crown of your head.

“Say it again”

You are finally allowed to wiggle your way out of his arms but he keeps you in place, rough palms trapping your cheeks and puckering your lips. God, those eyes. How could you have believed you’d be able to leave them so easily?

“M’really fucking sweaty at the moment”

Eren smiles, pressing his palms harder, until your lips part.

“Not that” he’s willing to be patient now, because you have just granted him the only thing that makes him feel whole again. Time.

“Mmph—” you try to loosen his grip but he only raises his eyebrows expectantly, amused by your useless attempt “m’in lovewithyou?”

Just like that, his smile turns into one of those bright grins you adore but can barely return at the moment.

“Damn right” Eren meets your lips like that, pressing on your mouth firmly until he finally loosens his grip and you have some room to return his rough kiss right as he clumsily drags you inside and catches you when you trip on the cursed umbrella container he keeps by the door. You taste salty, just like the ocean, and he licks into your mouth with the softest groan when you lightly tug at the curling strands at the base of his nape.

“Let me hear it again” he mutters but how are you supposed to collect the required air in your lungs if he refuses to stop kissing you stupid?

Through the dazed state of your mind, you manage to whisper the words into his mouth at last.

“I love you” again and again and again, until your love and his violent adoration is all he can feel in every crevice of his body, in each jolt of the electricity buzzing through his veins.

But then Eren breaks the kiss so abruptly you lose your balance and awkwardly stumble forward, your brows knitting as he starts laughing so hard he has to rest his forehead on the curve of your shoulder, hot breath tickling your neck while he giggles so hard you’re both shaking.

“What?” as it always happens, you can’t hold back a confused smile yourself.

Still barely able to contain the fit of laughter, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners, Eren straightens up to meet your gaze.

“I had just booked a flight to Tokyo”

304 notes · View notes

6sakusa · 10 months

Text

Safekeeping

Your brother's best friend learns you don't want to leave for college a virgin, and he thinks he might be able to lend you a hand.

✧ content: ~9.2k word count. 20 y/o eren jaeger x 18 y/o female reader. shameless porn without plot, older brother's friend trope, inexperienced reader/virginity loss, praise, spit, corruption themes, dry humping, guided masturbation, oral sex (f!receiving), protected PIV sex, reader's brother has a name, pet name ('baby'), passing mentions of alcohol/marijuana, explicit sexual content, explicit language, reader discretion advised. 18+ only. ✧ a/n: virginity is a social construct but this is smut so i’m gonna play into it. enjoy ♡

You planned to move away to college at the end of the summer, finally. Your school of choice was a three-hour drive from home. To you, it was the perfect distance. Just far enough to give you some much-needed space, but still within reason for a weekend visit if needed. You wouldn’t know anyone there, but that was what you were looking forward to the most, actually. It would be a fresh start.

You never did get the ‘fresh start’ that everyone talked about. You know, the new beginnings that came with every school year. You always tried to be optimistic about it but each time, without fail, your teachers scowled when they saw your last name on their rosters. They all knew your older brother Collin—very well, unfortunately.

His reputation preceded you as a punk who was sent to the principal’s office for acting out in class time and time again. Out of the classroom, too—in the hallways, on the football field after hours. Even in the parking lot when he got into a fender bender with his English teacher his senior year. You were cursed with the same teacher last semester and learned the hard way that she had a habit of holding grudges.

But that was beside the point. What you were trying to say was: you were ready for college. More than ready. Giddy and practically vibrating with excitement, marking the days off on your calendar until move-in week. Until you could finally quit your lousy summer job at the ice cream shop, waiting on old folk that never knew what they wanted and didn’t bother tipping.

Still, there was just one teensy little thing you were hoping to get out of the way before freshman year. But now that it was only a few weeks away—twenty-three days, but who’s counting?—it was starting to feel more like a pipe dream.

At the end of the day, there was no point throwing a tizzy over going to college a virgin. Surely, you wouldn’t be the only one.

Right?

Your parents had left for their annual end-of-summer trip down to the beach to visit your grandparents for a week. It used to be a family event, but now that you and Collin were deemed old enough, you had more say in whether you tagged along or not.

Collin had skipped out the last two summers, but this was the first year you were allowed to stay home, too, now that you were eighteen. But what you didn’t expect was that his three best friends would be there with the two of you—for the better half of the week, at that. Apparently, since they had done it the last two years, it had become a tradition, as they put it. Honestly, you were just impressed Collin was able to pull it off without your parents catching on, considering he was never one to clean the house when you were kids.

No matter, though; it didn’t bother you much. They had been your brother’s friends since they were in the eighth grade. Having them around was nothing new to you. Of course, it was more fun when you were younger—back when you could play Mario Party together and force Collin to sit out. Now, there wasn’t nearly as much in common besides the occasional tormenting of your brother.

So, the four of them did their thing, and you did yours.

But therein lies the problem. Even while you did you minded your business, someone just couldn’t seem to mind theirs. He couldn’t prevent his thoughts from wandering back to you—couldn’t prevent his eyes from lingering longer than they should.

It wasn’t Armin. He would never dare to look at you that way, the girl he tutored in algebra. Nor was it Jean, hopelessly consumed with texting his classmate, still determined as ever to win her over.

No, it was Eren. 'The cute one,’ as coined by you and your friends once he hit his growth spurt and grew out his hair. Though Eren was unaware of the epithet, this would be the year he’d unknowingly return the sentiment, thinking of you as Collin's very cute sister.

Eren was gone last summer, away at an internship, so it had been a couple of years since he’d last seen you. And you appeared to have—ahem—really grown into yourself, to put it delicately.

Listen, it was harmless. It wasn’t like Eren planned on feeling this way toward you. He didn’t think twice about it when Collin said you’d be at his place, too. And there was no way in hell he’d act on it. He wouldn’t even dare to let the thoughts hang around in his mind, consistently shoving them aside before they could permeate. You were Collin’s—his best friend’s—sister. More than that, you were his little sister!

He thought he was being discreet about it, but man, did you have to make it so tough? Did you really need to lay out by your parents’ pool every single day? Jeez. As a matter of fact, when was the last time it rained? This had to be the longest they’d been without it, now that Eren was thinking about it.

Back to the point here: Eren was, in fact, not remotely discreet. Armin brought it to his attention as they went to grab another beer. You happened to pop into the kitchen at the same time, just to grab a snack, and damn it, why did you have next to nothing on? Like, yeah, the place was a little warm tonight, and it was your house and all, but seriously? Tiny shorts rolled high on your waist and a tank top that looked extra clingy as you reached for a cup on the top shelf.

“You can’t be serious,” Armin grumbled to Eren. Once you were gone, obviously.

Eren should have known what Armin was referencing, but he was dumb to it, wholly convinced he had been treading carefully. “What do you—”

“You can’t bang Collin’s sister!”

Who even says ‘bang’ anymore?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a second.” Eren innocently held his palms up, waving them as if he could shake off the wicked accusation. “That’s a little far now, isn’t it?”

Armin was getting ahead of himself again; even Eren hadn’t let his mind wander past that boundary… yet.

Armin gave him a look, like he knew better than to take Eren’s word at face value. “Well, it sure looks like you’re trying to bang his sister.”

“Who’s trying to bang who’s sister?”

Both Eren and Armin jumped at the voice, heads spinning like they were on a swivel to find Collin. He emerged from the basement, Jean trailing behind with a suspicious, low-browed expression.

“Oh,” Eren stammered. He had to come up with something fast because he wasn’t about to leave it to Armin, the notoriously awful liar. “Armin was just telling me about some porn he watched the other night.” Eren shrugged. “You know, where the guy tries to bang someone’s sister.”

Armin glared at Eren for throwing him under the bus but reluctantly went along with the lie. “Yeah, and then he, uh… bangs the sister?”

Idiot, Eren couldn’t help but think. Whatever, it seemed to work well enough. Collin stared back at them like they were no better than a couple of horny morons. Jean dismissed it, too. Or at least, it didn’t bother him enough to let it interfere with him going for another beer.

With the crisis only half-averted, the four returned to the basement with freshly-cracked cans of beer in tow, where they would spend the rest of the night playing video games until they eventually passed out.

Well, at least three of them did.

Eren couldn’t sleep, but that wasn’t anything new. He battled with insomnia from time to time. Tossing and turning on a wobbly air mattress didn’t make it any easier to fall asleep, and with the basement only marginally cooler than the rest of the house, he thought he might as well get a glass of water.

Unluckily (luckily?) for him, he was interrupted before he could do just that. The sight of you, simply existing, lounged up on the couch, startled him.

Someone’s jumpy tonight. You giggled when he cursed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What are you doing here?” Eren asked.

You lightheartedly taunted, “Last time I checked, I live here, don’t I?”

He made a face at you, lacking the amusement your voice carried. “You know what I meant. Why are you still awake?”

It was the first time Eren had bumped into you. Not the first time ever, obviously; you had been alone together on countless occasions. But this was different, never this late at night before, and it was the only time it’d been just the two of you since he’d thought about you like that.

“Do I need a reason?” you airly replied, almost on a yawn as you stretched. “It’s summer break, and I don’t have work tomorrow.”

He didn’t offer more than a nod of acknowledgment before moseying across the room, his hands shoved into his pockets. Unsure of where this was going, you reached for the remote and paused your show.

“What are you guys doing down there?”

“They’re all asleep,” Eren answered. He stood idly in the middle of the room because, like you, he was curious as to where this was heading.

“And you’re not asleep because…?”

No, he couldn’t think like that. This was going nowhere.

“I came to grab some water,” he hurried to say—or at least, you thought it sounded hurried—and disappeared into the kitchen right after.

You listened for a moment, fingers dancing on the button of the remote as you debated starting your show again. But when the faucet flicked off, he didn’t return to the basement in the apparent rush he was in. Instead, he stayed there, with you.

Eren sipped his water, thinking of what to say next. It was an uphill battle because there wasn’t anything to say. There was no reason he needed to start a conversation with you. And yet, there he was, leaned up against the wall, dumbly scratching at his midriff as he racked—

Wait. Were you checking him out?

If there was one thing Eren had learned at college—let’s be real here, he had a nasty habit of skipping class—it was that he did pretty well for himself when it came to girls. Decent enough, he’d say. He at least had enough sense to know when a chick was interested in him. And now that you had creaked that door open, ogled at where his hand had lifted his shirt to reveal his stomach, he didn’t really have another choice but to step inside and explore around. Just a bit.

Armin’s warning blared in the back of Eren’s head. As luck would have it, his conscience tended to have Armin’s voice. But there wasn’t anything wrong with casual conversation, was there? After all, he had known you for years.

“So, are you excited to leave for college soon?”

Nope. There was no turning back now.

You perked up in your seat. “Yeah, for sure. It’ll be nice to go somewhere new. Meet new people, make new friends—”

“Maybe you’ll finally find your Fabio.”

There was a joke there, unfortunately. One you hadn’t heard in so long that you cringed at the memory.

As Collin’s sister, his friends were first-hand witnesses to your boy crazy phase, all your dating flops. Perhaps they had even learned you were quite the hopeless romantic. And by that, you meant Jean had found a smutty novel you had stolen from your mom—yes, it even had the signature Fabio-esque cover, hence the joke. Anyway, he read it aloud in front of your brother and the rest of their friends until Armin snatched the book from him, which somehow made the whole ordeal even worse.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” you offhandedly chuckled. “I was sort of hoping that would happen before college, but you know—I’m sure plenty of people go to college inexperienced.”

Your voice trailed off there at the end, almost like the notion really bothered you. Eren scrutinized it, this thing you handed him. It was a conversational game of hot potato—something you had shoved his way and forced him to hold onto. Why were you bringing this up? Were you looking for his advice?

Eren set down his glass and moved to sit by you on the couch. The far side of it. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

“No,” you blurted out, embarrassed and kicking yourself for having said anything in the first place. But your abruptness sounded just as bad, so with a sigh, you said, “I mean, I guess. I don’t want people to think I’m a loser for being a virgin.”

Again, why were you mentioning this to him? Eren felt like he was playing with fire. He knew he was going to wind up burnt the longer he stayed, maybe even scorching everything around him, even you, in the process.

Still, he poked it, added some kindling because he was unwilling to let it die out. “I think there’s a fairly simple solution to that.”

“What, getting laid? I think I know that,” you scoffed. “And it’s easy for you to say that, looking like—” You loosely waved your hand over the length of him. “You. Believe it or not, I don’t exactly have suitors lining up outside my door.”

Okay, so he was picking up on something here. He wasn’t crazy. You said it then: you found him attractive. And he found you attractive. Extremely so, if that wasn’t obvious already. The answer was easy enough; he might as well go on say it outright then.

“What if I did it?” Eren suggested.

You didn’t know what he meant by it, his casualness throwing you for a loop. Surely, he couldn’t be talking about that.

“You know, took your virginity.”

Oh. There was no mistaking it now. He was, without a doubt, talking about that.

And why were you considering it?

Your brother’s friends, Eren included, had taught you all sorts of things before, things they probably shouldn’t have. They told you to flush the toilet to mask your squeaky front door if you planned on sneaking out. Taught you how to roll a joint, and how to take a proper hit after you confessed you had never ‘felt high’ when you smoked. So, would this be any different?

While you mulled it over, Eren took the far-away look behind your eyes as a horrible sign. He realized how insane the proposition sounded once he spoke it into existence. Before he could take it back, play it off as a joke—he had one too many beers, that’s all—you piped up.

“Really?��

He certainly didn’t expect that, stammering, “I—yeah. Why not?”

Another lengthy pause passed before you accused, “Are you just fucking with me?”

“No, no! I wouldn’t.” He started rambling then, a jumbled mix of ‘I just—’ and ‘I shouldn’t have—’ until you decidedly cut him off.

“Okay.”

“Huh?”

“I said okay. You can… take my virginity.” It felt like a strange way to say it, too formal. And to say it to Eren of all people, who would have guessed it?

Then again, maybe this was the most logical outcome. It wasn’t like you needed to make a big deal of losing your virginity. You weren’t looking for something romantic, with rose petals or a waterbed or any of that corny-porny crap. You were just looking to get it out of the way. That way, when you inevitably meet the love of your life in college (okay, so maybe you were a hopeless romantic), you wouldn’t embarrass yourself the first time you hooked up.

“Okay,” Eren replied on his inhale, a breath sucked through his teeth, like it was a sin to say aloud.

He scooted closer, sitting on the cushion that once separated you. You expected him to kiss you, even leaning into him with closed eyes, but your lips barely brushed into his. He didn’t come any closer than that.

Lowly, he asked you, “Do you trust me?”

You nodded. Your noses bumped.

“I need to hear it.”

“I trust you,” you said, even quieter than him. You could barely hear it over the sound of your heart, thumping so hard you swore it might burst into your throat.

Eren kissed you then, tentatively, with his hand cradling the side of your face. He didn’t move until you did, and when you returned the kiss, he followed while letting you take lead.

It didn’t last long, though. You jumped away from each other, back to the opposite sides of the couch, when the basement door squeaked open. The panic subsided when you caught the bright eyes of your family’s cat, her little head poking out from the shadows.

You held a hand to your chest, steadying your breath and trying to settle your rapid heartbeat, as if both were possible. When you met Eren’s gaze, he was already staring at you with a brittle sort of look. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Did he regret what he had done with you? You didn’t, and you prayed he didn’t either.

Before you had the chance to ask, he finally said, “Should we go to your room?”

“Good idea.”

He knew where your room was, but still, he followed right behind you anyway. At the top of the staircase, just before your bedroom door, you split. You turned to see Eren sneaking into Collin’s room. A minute passed while you listened to his rustling, but when he returned, held between his two fingers was that infamous, shiny foil.

You frowned, hard. “I’m not going to use one of my brother’s condoms.”

“Do you have one then?” Eren asked, already well aware of your answer.

“Fine.”

Eren had never been in your bedroom before. It felt foreign, and weirdly wrong, to have him in there. He looked out of place for it, too big, too mature, especially as you looked at all your girlish knick-knacks and old photos. You wished you could tuck everything away into some lonely drawer.

You avoided Eren’s eyes and fixed your attention on adjusting the lights. Your bright ceiling light was far too unforgiving for this, so you switched it out for your bedside lamp. The drone of the old bulb buzzed in the back of your ears, its light a fizzy yellow.

You were nervous. Eren didn’t need to see your face to know it was written all across it. Not that it surprised him, considering this was about to be your first time having sex, and it would be with him.

He felt his heart drop into his stomach, the sick feeling you get on a rollercoaster, but somehow you want to ride again. Maybe he was just as nervous as you. You had put your trust in him, enough to take your virginity. Handing it to him as if it were some sentimental treasure he could watch over, for safekeeping.

Sure, he knew the optics were bad. Not just bad but horrendous, actually. He was about to sleep with his best friend’s younger sister, a recently eighteen-year-old virgin. The whole situation sounded no better than a second-rate porno—like the one he had made up with Armin in the kitchen, ha!

This was as much a blessing straight from heaven as it was a curse. But he couldn’t care about the optics now, not with you taking a seat on the bed, looking over at him with these come-and-get-me eyes that may or may not have been intentional.

No, this wasn’t a curse at all. If it were so wrong of him, then why was it that he already felt his cock straining against his sweats at the mere thought? The thought of how delicate he’d be with you. He needed to be, for the last thing he wanted was to ruin your first time. He’d be the first to show you what pleasure could be with another person—what you were deserving of before going off and letting other boys touch you.

He set the condom on the nightstand and joined you at the edge of your bed, his knee barely grazing yours. He was about to ask if he could kiss you again, but you entirely side-skipped any conversation by picking up right where the two of you had left off.

Again, Eren relinquished control to you, but he did take the initiative to swipe his tongue into your mouth. You tasted him, the bittersweet flavor of light beer. He was nothing like the last boy you kissed. He didn’t ram his tongue down your throat but kissed you as though he wanted to taste you, to muse over and memorize you. And you let him, lips languidly caressing one another with little point or purpose, solely running on instinct.

You balled his shirt in your fist, twisted the fabric of it between your hands to have him close—closer. He hoisted you onto his lap with his hands at your waist, and you went along with him more than willing. You draped your hands over his shoulders, crossing them at the wrist, and didn’t let your lips break from his once.

He smoothed his palms up and down the small of your back until he eventually ventured lower. He gripped at your ass, pulling you down to grind over him. Just once, so you could feel him, how achingly hard he was for you. Then, you did it again all on your own. Lightheaded and teeming with desire, the pressure against your clit, even through your layers of clothing, was an addicting relief. You moved against him, again and again, until you were dragging yourself over him, practically about get off from that alone.

But Eren didn’t let that happen. Before you get there, Eren used his hold on your hips to stall you. His voice was a mumble against your mouth as he asked you, “How far have you gone?”

“This,” you professed. “This is the farthest I’ve gone.”

Fuck.

“Okay.” It was the word of the night. Eren breathed it out like he was talking to himself. The type of sigh you’d give yourself in the mirror when trying to calm down, which was precisely his goal.

He lifted you with little effort, had you lie back into the pillows before he crawled on top of you. He kissed at your jawline, then placed another on the side of your neck. He left a few of them there. It was all lip, all wispy, like he could break you. Still, you felt each of them like a spark at the base of your spine.

His fingers trailed lower, tickling over your collarbone but stopping short of the neckline of your tank top.

“Is it all right if I touch you here?” he asked, punctuating it by running a hand down your breast, over your shirt.

“Yes,” you whispered with a shudder.

With the confirmation, he massaged lightly, his thumb caressing over your perked nipple.

He kissed you again, his tongue meeting yours while he rolled your nipple between his fingers. Your back arched instinctively, wanting more—needing more. He listened to your body, learning as he went, and tugged down your tank top. With nothing between you, he lightly pinched at your nipple, pulling a whine from you, one that didn’t get the chance to meet the air.

Eren kissed the side of your face. “Can I kiss you there?” he muttered, referencing your tits as he gave another squeeze. He pressed another kiss, lower, against your throat.

“Mhm,” was all you managed with a voice that was long gone, lost somewhere in the opened-mouth kisses he left along the dip between your chest.

It tickled a bit when he flicked over your nipple with his tongue—even more when he latched onto it with his mouth. You were wiggly beneath him, driving him wild, and you didn’t even know it. It was sweet how sensitive you were, his mouth being the first to kiss you there, to learn the taste of your skin. So soft. And warm, too, heating up the longer he sucked at your tits, anywhere he pleased.

Eren kept his hand at your waist, palming over your stomach but never risking any lower than that. His touch was heated, urgent, yet he only showed restraint.

He pulled back from you, letting his face hover inches above yours when he asked, “Have you ever touched yourself before?”

He was strangely calm for asking such a personal question, setting your face ablaze. Too rushed, you replied, “Of course I have.”

What did he think? That because you were a virgin, you hadn’t thought about sex before? Hadn’t ever watched porn? Yes, you hadn’t actually done it, but it wasn’t as though you were heading into the situation blind.

“Then—” You, the sight of you wriggling out of your sleep shorts, interrupted him. You caught the bob of his throat when he swallowed, but you weren’t sure he was trying that hard to hide it. “Show me how you do it.”

Eren sat back on his knees, just shy of sitting between your legs as you rested against the pillows. The only thing separating him from you was a thin pair of panties. You hoped he didn’t notice your jittery fingers as you slipped them beneath the band.

You started, “This is—”

“It’s not embarrassing,” he interrupted. It only made you more anxious, like he could read your mind or something. But he was genuine as he said it, assuring you even while struggling to maintain eye contact, his attention flitting from your face to between your legs. “Show me how I can make you come.”

How could he possibly be so open about this? There wasn’t even a shred of hesitation or shame in his voice. You wondered how many people he’d been with—how many times he’d rehearsed before he could speak with such confidence? Enough confidence to have you listening loyally and plunging your hand beneath your underwear.

You pressed the pads of your fingers against your clit and started to rub. Slowly at first, but already, just that smidgen of relief was enough to pull a flimsy sound from you. You were sensitive, throbbing, and so incredibly turned on that you didn’t hide even as he unabashedly stared at you with pure infatuation.

Eren rested a hand on your leg, sliding higher and reaching for your panties. “Can I take these off?”

You stopped only to help him work them down your leg, shimmying until he had them thrown to the foot of the bed. You were hesitant to spread your legs again, but he did it for you, placing one at each of his sides. He took your hand and returned it between your thighs, eager for you to continue. So you did just that.

There wasn’t any doubt he could see everything now—how wet you were, how it coated your fingers the longer you rubbed, the tighter your little circles became. But you were too wrapped up in it to care, playing with yourself just as indecently as you would if you were alone. You couldn’t even be bothered to stifle the chant of gasps spilling from you.

“Can you put a finger inside for me?” Eren requested.

You nodded and pushed one inside, felt how you pulsed around it. You moved it in and out, the same way you had done many times before.

“Yeah, like that,” he murmured. You heard the ‘fuck’ he cursed under his breath. “How’s that feel?”

“Good,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

“Try a little faster.”

You did just that and bit back a whimper.

“Add another.”

He needed you stretched. He needed you ready for him.

You took your second finger well; you had done that before, too.

“You’re doing so good,” he told you. He leaned into you, closing in. “Can I help you now?”

“Please,” you breathed. You slipped your fingers from you, giving Eren access to do with you as he wished.

But he didn’t reach for you. Not there, at least. He held his fingers before your mouth.

“Open up.”

You weren’t sure what he was after, but you obeyed, lusty enough that you found you were trusting him implicitly. He placed his middle and index fingers against your tongue, telling you, “Get them nice and wet for me.”

You sucked on them lightly. Saliva pooled on the back of your tongue as he pressed down. He pulled them from your mouth with a lewd sound and smiled at you. It made your chest swell a bit.

Eren returned to your side. His presence was engulfing as he wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. It surprised you, the intimacy of it, but you didn’t have any time for second-guessing before he urged, “Keep going.”

You returned to circling your clit as his hand met yours. He traced his pointer finger through you, and every muscle in your body tensed.

“Can I?”

“Yes,” you said, practically a moan.

He slipped it inside you, taking his time with it. His finger was much larger than your own, thicker, reaching deeper than yours had ever gone. Your stomach tightened at the intrusion, trying to adjust.

“That okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” It was better than okay. “More. Please.”

Eren chuckled warmly. He pumped his finger in and out of you, curving it just right to have you squirming in his arms. You were beginning to understand why he was holding you now. He wanted to keep you still so that, once he figured out what you liked, he could maintain his pace through your needy bucking.

He had a hand on your head, petting over you as he asked, “You close?” You couldn’t respond because he added a second finger. A hiss left you, but it melted into a satisfied whine. “Yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you whispered against him, his body dizzyingly hot even through his T-shirt.

It was becoming quite the task to keep your fingers moving, what with Eren’s fingers hitting a spot that you didn’t even know existed, over and over again. It had you—fuck—it had you coming. So hard that you thoughtlessly rode his hand, eyes screwing shut as you fucked yourself deeper on his fingers, prolonging the bliss however you could until you turned to goo in his arms.

You were panting against his chest, your body still twitchy, when he started to ask, “Did you—”

“Yes,” you said on a drawn-out exhale.

He pecked your forehead. You still felt the stamp of it as he moved to get back on top. He held himself above you with hands planted on either side of you, kissing you full on the mouth. Still hazy, you didn’t move much, letting him make out with you all he wanted until his lips traveled down to the dip behind your ear, then the delicate crook of your neck.

He bunched your tank higher up your chest until you both tore it over your head. With it out of his way, Eren continued kissing lower—even lower than before. His breath tickled over your nipples, leaving you a needy, rutting mess—for what exactly, you didn’t know, just more.

“Too much?” Eren asked, looking up at you with his big, green eyes.

“No,” you assured, your mouth agape and in awe of him. “I like it.”

He pressed his smile against your skin, kissing and licking his way down your sternum.

When he reached your navel, you asked, “What are you—”

“Making sure you’re ready.” He kissed your hipbone.

“It’s really okay,” you said, slightly wary. “We should just get this over with, right?”

“What if I don’t want to get this over with?” Eren kissed just above your slit. “What if I want to take my time?”

Eren wanted you as comfortable—as relaxed—as possible. And since he was already about to fuck his friend’s younger sister, with one of his condoms nonetheless, he certainly wasn’t going to dig around for his friend’s lube next. Luckily, there was another, more fun, way that he could ensure you were properly lubricated so as to avoid any pain that may arise from him splitting you on his—

Focus.

“I need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t,” Eren said, a reminder more to himself than for you.

You gasped, almost choked, when he kissed the top of your thigh, then the inner part of it.

“Can you do that for me?”

“Eren, I—”

“Please.” He licked a broad stripe up the crease of your thigh. That alone had your head thrown back against your pillow, a tiny ‘oh’ escaping you. “Let me. I want to.”

“You do?” you timidly asked.

“So badly,” he replied, but it sounded more like an admission. A white flag of surrender, like he was letting himself fully give in to his desires because, yes, he had thought about this before. There was no use in lying about it now.

“O-okay.”

On that, he returned to teasing his way between your legs, kissing from the delicate flesh of your inner thighs to—

“Wait!” you interjected. Eren immediately looked to you like he had done something wrong, but you quelled his worry with, “Can you get undressed, too? Like, at least your shirt.”

Your request didn’t sound nearly as self-assured as his, but he listened to you nonetheless. He sat back to peel off his shirt. He smiled at you softly. “Better?”

You scanned over his toned torso, sun-kissed and tanned from summer. Definitely better. “Thanks.”

He leaned over you, his mouth inches from your pussy as he murmured, “It’ll feel good.” Then he kissed your entrance, and the sensation of it jolted through your body like lightning. “Promise.”

Eren parted you with his fingers before licking through you, letting the newfound feeling sink in deep. His tongue was warm, wet, and exceedingly gentle—nothing like his fingers or even your own. You couldn’t begin to describe it, but that might be because, after a second lap of his tongue, you were already losing any and all coherency.

You made a few strained sounds, flowery and pathetic, but supported yourself on trembling elbows to watch. When you met Eren’s eyes, he only stopped licking at you to say, “Tell me what feels good.”

“Everything.” The word tumbled out of your mouth desperately. “Everything feels good.”

You felt his laugh just before he closed his mouth back over you. He continued having his way with you, sucking and licking at you, saliva and slick making a mess of his pretty face as he staggered kisses between his laps. Whenever his lips brushed against your clit, your legs would flex tight. He hooked his arms around them, laying them over his strong shoulders. You felt the way his fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, locking them in place while he circled his lips around your clit with more pressure than before.

“Ah—oh,” you moaned, your back leaving the bed to press your pussy further into his face, as if you could have him any closer—you know, until you’d have him inside you. But that would come soon enough.

Eren didn’t ask this time; he knew exactly how he was making you feel. And you were thankful for it because you couldn’t dream of him stopping. You needed more, lacing a hand through his locks and pulling lightly, encouraging him. He groaned against you, clearly liking it, so you did it again.

He was sloppy with it while still… thoughtful? That didn’t feel like the correct word for it, but even as he made out with the most intimate part of you, he did it with intention, doing that thing again, whatever it was, with his tongue pointed, because he had quickly learned you liked it. No, he showed you that you liked it. Loved it, actually; it was excruciatingly evident by the breathless sounds you made.

And when Eren paired his tongue with his sucking lips, swirling it against your clit, you came with your own hand clamped over your mouth. Your entire body gained a pulse of its own. It was much stronger than your first orgasm and longer-lasting, too. The muscles of your stomach wound and released while you rode out your high, Eren groaning against you just as pleasedly.

Only once you were no longer propped on your elbows but flopped against the bed did Eren let up. Your thighs were still trembling as he kissed a pathway back to your side. You both sat with heaving chests, though yours much heavier than his, and you were beginning to question how you were supposed to go for another round. You hadn’t even reached the—for lack of a better word—main event yet. Truthfully, you expected Eren to throw you to your bed, pop your metaphorical cherry, and be done with it. But now you had already orgasmed twice and he still had his sweatpants on.

You should probably do something about that, shouldn’t you?

“I wanna touch you, too.”

While innocent, it was the most you had communicated with him this far, so he didn’t stop you when you reached for him. He was more than ready for it.

You explored him a bit, tracing over his length and discovering what touches made him twitch beneath your touch, still as chaste as ever.

“Show me,” you purred.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to do—a hand job was far from rocket science. It was more like if you had to show him yours, then you wanted to see his. You wanted to watch.

Eren tugged his sweatpants and boxers down his legs. His cock sprung out, nearly slapping against the low part of his abs. Already, his tip was wetted, needy for anything after going untouched this long, even if it was his own hand.

He wrapped his fingers around his shaft, working his fist over his cock, faster, until he was jerking himself off for you. His breath, fanning just above your head, went from steady to ragged, his chest tight.

You watched him for a moment, already needing to touch him. You pushed yourself upright, perched so that your knees brushed against his thigh, ready to take him with both hands.

“Hold on.”

You glanced at him. He fidgeted, like he was about to say something but retracted it immediately. He sounded hesitant, looked even more hesitant, when he asked, “Can you—can you spit in your hand first?”

“Oh, um.” You looked at your open palm and tried your best to collect some saliva in your mouth. It was a little daunting, knowing he was watching as you did it, but he didn’t seem to mind.

No, he definitely didn’t mind. Not in the slightest. But he wouldn’t admit that to you right now.

You took him in your hand, mimicking how he did it, with a loose wrist and your grasp slightly firm. When you squeezed over his tip, you heard the sharp inhale it pulled from him, noted how his pelvis flexed. Eren’s hand closed over yours. He was going to show you exactly how he liked it.

Eren moved your hand for you, gripping it whenever you reached the head of his cock. His pinched breaths turned into groans, his brows hanging low over his keen eyes. That was when he started thrusting, fucking your hand, and nearly forgot where he was—forgot whose hand he was using like his own personal toy.

“Spit on it,” he grunted, that temperate side of him growing unrestrained.

He didn’t mean to come off so crass, not in front of you, not this soon. It was just that Eren couldn’t remember the last time he came from a handjob, but he was nearly there, with your hands so dainty and velvety around him. Not to mention the spit dribbling from your pretty lips before you spread it down his cock—he was about to lose his last smidgen of composure.

Thankfully, he remembered the reason why he was here. He had a much bigger agenda than fucking your hand. How could he have forgotten already that he was here for you?

“That’s—ah, shit.” Selfishly, Eren waited for another second before releasing your hand. You continued stroking him eagerly, and it felt wrong to stop you, but he did just that with his hand around your forearm. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep going.”

“Sorry,” you said, your hands now politely to yourself and folded on your lap.

With a short, huffing laugh, he told you, “You do not have to apologize for that. Believe me.”

His chuckle had you smiling again. That closed-mouth, coy smile that he was quickly learning might become the death of him. He straightened out, taking your chin between his fingers to kiss you again.

“Lay back for me,” he whispered.

You fell into the mess of pillows and tangled sheets, making yourself comfortable while Eren fetched the condom. You didn’t know what the feeling was—trepidation, anticipation, excitement, perhaps all three—but it bubbled in your stomach as you watched him rip the wrapper before rolling on the latex.

He pumped himself a few times as he reminded, “We can stop at any time if you need.”

Eyes wide and fixed onto him—specifically on his cock, which he’d soon gape you on—you asked, “Do we need a safe word?”

He laughed again, through his nose like earlier, but only because you were so agonizingly cute about it. “I think ‘stop’ will work just fine.”

You did that smile again, winding the knot in his stomach more than he even thought possible. Eren was so close to snapping—not like that! Not hurting you, never. More like coming undone, turning into a puddle of himself, finishing humiliatingly early—that sort of snapping. He didn’t know what had him feeling this way, but something about you made him feel like the virgin here.

He didn’t dare push inside yet, not only for your sake but for his. His eyes, now brazen and alert, scanned over you, staring you straight in the face like a silent check-in. And when you gave him the go-ahead, nothing more than a bobble of your head, slowly, he tilted his hips into yours.

With you unbelievably tight around him, he stilled with only his tip inside you. Even so, his breath had already hitched in his throat. He couldn’t hold back, he simply couldn’t. And when he gave you a little more, between his eyes flittering shut, he caught the scrunch of your nose.

There was a stretch, a certain fullness. It didn’t necessarily hurt, but it didn’t exactly feel like he belonged in there, either. It was considerate of him to take his time with you, prep you with his fingers and tongue. But even so, with his cock only halfway inside, you had your nails dug deep into his biceps.

“How’re you doing?” Eren asked.

“I’m—” You glanced at where your bodies were connecting. There was still more of him to take. “Okay.”

It didn’t appear like he believed you, which was fair because it was a shaky statement at best. “It’s too much?

“A little,” you sheepishly admitted.

He pulled out of you, and even that made you wince. Your shoulders dropped back to the mattress, every muscle in your body easing up now that he wasn’t bullying inside you.

"Here.” Eren rolled onto his back. He guided you on top of him, set you so your knees straddled his waist, his cock resting between your legs. Somehow, it looked even longer like that, laid upon his abs. “Let’s try it like this.”

Like this? It felt incredibly vulnerable from up here, where he could see you—in all your glory—bouncy above him. Plus, you hardly knew what you were doing; you had just given your first handjob! If you were being honest, you thought you’d just sort of lay there and take it from him, and now he was expecting you to ride him? It was intimidating, to say the least, even if Eren tried to assure you it wasn’t.

“You have total control this way.”

That was the exact thing you feared. You didn’t want any control. What if you did something wrong?

Apparently, you didn’t do a great job at masking your worry because Eren immediately placed his hands on your hips, not taking them in his grasp but rubbing his thumbs encouragingly against your skin.

The entire point of this was to trust him. That was why you were doing this—losing it to Eren, someone who wouldn’t make fun of you. That way, when it really mattered, you wouldn’t royally fuck up. And after getting this far, there was no chance in hell you would end the night a virgin. Well, half-virgin.

Ready to try again, you drew a deep breath, lifting yourself to your knees. Before you reached for him, like the new sexpert that you were, you spat in the palm of your hand, not minding Eren’s eyes this time. You stroked over the condom, mixing its lube with your saliva, then lined his cock up with you.

Carefully, you sat down. He only reached as deep as before, but the pressure was nowhere near what it once was. You rolled your hips, testing different angles to see what worked best—how you could get more of him, all of him, inside you.

Eren curved a hand around the nape of your neck, cooing, “Come here.”

He brought you in for a kiss—more than a kiss—his tongue immediately licking into your mouth the second your lips crashed into his, tasting every one of your contented, little hums.

He snaked a hand between your legs, lazily thumbing over your clit until your lips were unable to match his fervency. It was more like you were moaning against his mouth, right into it, sharing each of his breathers until your cheeks sweltered. He melted you from the inside out, softening you up like butter until you were flush against his pelvis—as easy as that. Cautiously, you started rocking your hips.

“That’s it,” Eren whispered into the corner of your mouth.

With quivering arms, you held yourself up with your palms pressed into his chest. Perched proudly atop him, the tip of his cock reached deeper, filling you deeper than anything else had before. It stole your breath, almost like you felt him in your throat.

Eren admired how your mouth fell into an adorable ‘o’ before you started moving. As though a switch had flipped, you were suddenly rolling your hips against him—slowly, of course—repeatedly having him hit that delicious spot again as you indulgently chased after your third orgasm.

“You’re doing so good, taking me well for—for your first time.”

Shit. Eren remembered he was taking your virginity.

He inhaled sharply, hoping you wouldn’t notice how his voice gave way, or how his cock jolted inside you when he realized he was the first to have you like this. His cock was the first to fill you, stretch you, mold you to accommodate him. Only him.

“Do what feels good for you, baby.”

The pet name slipped past him before he could wrangle it back, but you didn’t seem to catch it. Or, at least, you didn’t mind.

No, you were too busy to hear him, more occupied with getting a feel for what you liked best. Eren let you use his cock freely because—what, was he supposed to stop you? Fuck no. He would let you continue forever if you desired it, so long as you’d continue gifting him with such lovely and lewd expressions—the sweet curl of your lip, the knit of your determined brows as your thighs had surely started to burn.

But, boy, it was quite the challenge, letting you have your way with him. You could only keep your pace for a moment or two before you’d take a break. Such a fucking tease, and you didn’t even know it. It was endearing how worn out you were from everything that came before this, and all Eren wanted was to dig his heels into your bed, pound away at that tight pussy of yours, and show you just how wonderful he could make you feel.

It was a test of strength for him, whether he could hold back or not, because finally, you looked like you were enjoying yourself on his cock. You took him with short strokes, a simple tilt of your hips back and forth once you realized you could grind your clit into his pelvis.

He could tell you were close, from the way you fluttered around him to the gasps getting caught in your throat from the added, and absolutely euphoric, pressure.

“Just like that. Keep going. Make yourself come for me.”

The gravel in Eren’s voice pushed you closer to the edge. There was a growl to it, and you could feel it vibrate through you. You tossed your head back with a cry loud enough to wake a neighbor, as you shoved a hand between your legs, desperate to come.

Eren shushed you dotingly, but there was a grin on his face as he placed his sticky palm against your mouth. “Can’t let them hear us now, can we?”

He felt your heady breath as you panted, trying to reach your peak. When you couldn’t ride him any longer, your hips an erratic sputter, he beamed up at you, slack-jawed smile and all, and said, “Feel good? Need some help?”

Too overwhelmed, you couldn’t even nod your head. You babbled uselessly.

“Want me to fuck you, just a little? Get you coming on my cock?”

“Yes, please—oh, God, Eren.”

When he started to move, thrusting into you ever so slightly, you were already scratching your nails down his chest. It was no bother to him, though. He only wanted you to do it again.

When you came, you squeezed him so perfectly that he thought he might explode. It was taking his last bit of self-control to fuck you at such a steady and slow pace when, in reality, he only wanted to hammer into you. Eren felt like he was moments away from boiling over. His face was burning, and he could feel the sweat beading in his hairline from this aching, pent-up desire within him. After fingering you, going down on you—no, after days of fantasizing about you—he needed release.

Even you could see it—the unmistakable flush of his face now spreading to the base of his neck and spanning his chest. As blissed out as you were, limply collapsed on top of him, you mumbled against his skin, “Eren, I want you to come, too.”

And how could he turn that down? Now that you had come three times, he figured he could finally have his turn.

“I’m gonna go a bit faster now. You tell me if that’s okay or not.”

Before he could even flinch, you assured him, “It’s okay. I want you to.”

The soft laziness of your voice, the dreaminess seeping through it like syrup—it was too much.

Eren took you by the hips first, holding your body pliant for him to thrust into. He started with long drags of his cock, letting his tip kiss your entrance before stuffing himself back inside you. Each time he bottomed out, he bit back every vulgar curse he wanted to hiss into your ear.

Then, he flattened his hands against your back, folding you into him with his palms seared into your shoulder blades. Your face was smothered in the crook of his neck as he fucked up into you. The bed began to squeak, like a mockery of your tiny bleats.

“You all right?” Eren asked, his voice hoarse.

You only made an affirmative sound that got muffled as you burrowed against him. With your chest warm, like a tingling between your lungs, and your head stuck somewhere in the clouds, you took him in a speechless, almost surreal, bliss. How fiercely he needed you, if only for a blip in time, was intoxicating.

And in that fleeting moment, the sin of it, the forbiddenness surrounding you, had vanished. Eren was sure it would rear itself again, that was for certain. He could predict the ripple of guilt that’d course through him once he inevitably faced what he’d done. But even if it meant betraying his best friend, he couldn’t find it within himself to regret it.

Especially when he realized how fucking good it felt to come inside you. With his arms locked around your waist, your entire body smushed against his, he snapped his hips into you, as if he could possibly fuck you any deeper. He emptied himself into the condom as a groan tore through his throat, the hum of it against the shell of your ear like a final shudder down your spine.

He pulled out of you, faintly cursing as he did. You flopped at his side, entirely spent, and stared at the ceiling with fuzzy, unfocused vision. The rush of adrenaline was on a steep comedown, and you were already starting to feel it. Sore, but extremely satisfied.

“You should probably go to the bathroom—to pee and stuff,” Eren said, that familiar, boyish side already returning in full force.

Pee. Got it.

You only muttered a ‘yeah’ before you redressed and tip-toed off to the bathroom down the hallway. There, you wiped yourself clean, forced yourself to pee, and gave yourself a good long look in the mirror.

In just one night, you had hit every base. By definition, a home run, in your book—and with your brother’s ‘cute friend,’ at that.

You were shocked to see Eren was still there when you returned to your bedroom. He had on his boxers and tee already, stepping into his sweatpants as you opened the door. He gave you a soft smile as you hopped into your bed.

Then, even more surprisingly, he asked, “Do you want me to stay?”

Eren knew he should leave unless he hoped to get caught. Still, he thought it was the right thing to say.

You giggled, “I think my brother would kill you if he found you in here.”

He laughed along with you, but when it settled, he crawled beneath your sheets anyway.

Though you felt uncertain about it, he consoled it away with, “Don’t worry. I’ll just hang here until you fall asleep.” You at least deserved that.

He turned the light off and let you rest your head against his chest, your arm looped around his waist. You didn't know where the urge to cuddle came from, and neither did he, but he didn't question it. It was comfortable, even as he waited for that pang of guilt to hit.

But it never did. And once he heard your breathing taper to a peaceful drone, he slipped out of your bed and snuck back down to the basement. That stupid air mattress felt a whole lot more comfortable now.

Finally, Eren had scratched the itch he couldn't kick, just to get it out of his system. And there was absolutely no way he'd think of you again, not while you were three hours away at school.

Right?

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6sakusa · 11 months

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I'm sorry I had to 😭

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6sakusa · 1 year

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i’m your national anthem | eren jaeger

the note ☆ this is part two of my lana coded!eren ‘series’, see part one here. once again my soft spoken and older eren (drooling) spoiling his lovely little wife with everything he can but this time it’s at his place of work after she pays him a visit. it’s not as “cinematic” as the first part but i like this one a lot and it’s a birthday gift for myself lmao. inspired by national anthem (demo), lana del rey.

contains ☆ nsfw, fem!reader, stupidlyrich!eren, soft husband!eren, established relationship, semi-public sex (there are cameras), office sex, eren in a yummy suit, lotta praise, oral (m. receiving), handjobs, facefucking, vaginal, sex on a desk, backshots, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, panty stealing (kind of), possessive eren, he likes you in a sundress, use of pet names. black reader as always but it’s all subjective so read if you like it my loves <3

wc ☆ 4k words (it was meant to be much shorter lmao)

eren jaeger is a successful man.

many would even stretch out as to say that he's almost won in life. he's made it on the forbes list, attended every exclusive gathering to be thrown in society, racked up hundreds of thousands of dollars in his chequing account; he's a well deserved ceo—not from start up connections, not from nepotism—eren jaeger has worked his way to the top from down below. and while he's considered to have everything a mortal man could ever dream of, eren believes his true fortune lies within you.

"mr. jaeger?" a timid voice calls from the entryway to the conference room, where a suit clad eren stands at the table's apex, which holds a stack of printed papers, with two other shareholders seated at the sides listening in on his presentation.

another thing about eren is that he likes rules—he has rules. there are rules employees know not to break; no bribes, no in house disputes, and certainly no entering his boardroom when having a meeting with his shareholders without his request. so when one of his brightest interns shifts uncomfortably under his gaze with a look of fear morphing his facial features, eren knows he’s been asked to do so by someone with more power than even him.

"i take it that my wife is here?" eren breathes, mindlessly running a hand through messy growing hair but still refusing to acknowledge the fact that you came at such an inconvenient time. "could she wait for another twenty minutes? we've almost concluded the contracts."

the sorry smile given by the intern is enough of an answer for him, "i don't think it would be appropriate for me to repeat the words she said, but she didn't give off the impression of wanting to wait long, sir."

so…spoiled.

he could already imagine how you would be waiting there; making yourself comfortable up on his desk, legs dangling in your four inch heels and tapping your nails against the glass whilst admiring the photo of the two of you on your honeymoon situated at the desks edge. of course, you would be doing this all with a small pout on your face, ready for you scold him for how long it's taken him to head back to you.

nursing an apologetic smile, he glances towards the man and woman on each side as if silently asking to resume this another time. they wave him off with small laughter, going on about keeping you happy and all the unimportant other things; eren's too preoccupied with going to see you to register their words.

he's quick making his way to the elevator, but not before swiping a single champagne coloured rose from a vase nearby; eren knows he can't show up empty handed, not with you. it's not irregular for you to come to his work so unannounced; at a random time on any given day. you strut around the office like it's yours, you make friends with the secretaries and listen to office gossip like you're one of them, and you tell his assistant all about the plans the two of you have like he doesn't already know. at this point his employees hold you in higher regard than they do him.

it's expected though; seeing how you have their boss contorted around your pretty finger.

your face lights up from it's bored expression when you hear the elevator chime. it takes four of eren's long strides to reach his office doors, and he opens it to a carbon copy of what he'd imagined only minutes ago.

"'ren!" smiling at his tall frame, you open up your arms for him to take. the smell of his rosewood cologne pronounces itself through the hug, which shortly turns into intertwined lips. "missed you." you mutter against his now gloss stained mouth, taking hold of his stubbled chin with long nails to deepen your kiss.

"i missed you too baby, got you this," he mumbles, handing you the flower before steadying his hands on both your sides, essentially baring you to his warm body, "how was your hair appointment?"

"thank you," you soften, casually dipping your nose into the welts of the rose to take in it's scent before continuing, "it was good, didn't take as long as i thought so i wanted to come say hi!" your eyes dilate to black expanses as you properly take him in. eren left early today, so you couldn't get a glimpse of him leaving the house. but seeing him now, with his hair pulled up into it's signature messy ponytail and the blue armani suit you told him buy—you could quite literally drool.

"it looks good." he takes a piece of your hair before leaving it alone. "and your dress looks real pretty on you."

grinning at his words, you shimmy out of his hold; intentionally ignoring the way his eyes follow the dips, curves and pudge highlighted by the sundress you wear. "so, i thought we could eat some food together."

for the first time since entering the room, his eyes shift from you over to the wicker basket on the nearby sofa.

you're sitting on his lap as he rests in his chair, putting some radish on the cucumber roll before feeding it to your husband, "hope i didn't pull you from anything..."

ah…

eren is a calculated man; he doesn't act irrationally. instead, he thinks—thinks for just a few seconds of possible outcomes depending on what he does. but with you? there's no need for that; you probably knew there was a high chance of him being in a meeting, if you weren't already told that by his assistant—so, as always, he chooses the answer that'll ultimately keep you happy.

"hm? nope, nothing important enough."

"oh, mkay." you nod, taking a mini donut from its cute package and popping it into your mouth. after dusting off your hands, you fiddle with the strands of hair that frame his face, “you coming home early today? we can watch that movie i was talking about—and i’ve been dying to get to properly use the theater with you.”

“let me think about it, princess—but i’ll try.” he sports a boyish smile, accepting the water bottle you hand him before watching you clean up the empty trays and takeout boxes. his words are most definitely for show, that man will be home by six instead of eight—hell, make it five.

perhaps eren jaeger truly has won at life; god…you look alluring, walking around his space with your heels like the place is your own, fragrancing the room with the scent of your lotion mixed with the perfume he gifted you. his wandering eye is fixed to your legs, catching how your dress rides up with every step taken.

“can feel you starin’ at me.” you tease in a sing-song voice, wiggling your hips as you bend down to pick up fallen trash.

“good.” his long legs aid him in striding towards your frame, large hands come to rest on your hips from behind. his thumbs begin to rub soft circles on them as he plants a kiss on your forehead, “did my employees see you in this?”

“duh—i had to see them to see you,” you laugh.

you know damn well what this is about, and you find it amusing. for the most part, your husband is a calm man; slow to anger, leans towards calmly solving disputes as opposed to growing aggressive, and when he gets agitated, he takes a break. but at the mere mention of his wife, eren seems to abandon all sensical thoughts of zen he once had.

“any of ‘em stare?”

“dunno.” you respond with a shrug and turn to face eren, smoothing down the collars of his outfit with your hands, “i don’t pay attention to any of them. they’re not you.”

“okay.” he makes his way back to his seat, gesturing to you to follow along. “i really do mean it when i say you look nice in that dress—well, i always mean it but…”

you’re giggling, standing in between his spread legs while looking down at him, “thanks ‘ren.”

“mhm, i’m the luckiest man in the world.”

oh…he has that tone in his voice again; the rasped one that has your legs pressing together when he speaks. it’s the kind that happens when he gets a lustful glint in his eyes—when he wants to fuck you. his hands wander up the fabric of your dress, the feeling of his cold wedding band makes you gasp and steady your hands onto his shoulders for support.

“h-hold on.”

“something wrong?” he stills, “if it’s the cameras, i’ll get the footage removed—or maybe you want me to get a copy of it?”

“nothing’s wrong.” you shake your head, but make a mental note to ask him to indeed grab a copy before deleting it, “just want you to relax for a moment—i know i took you out of that meeting.” you speak as slowly and your fingers move down his arms, keeping his eye contact as you lower your knees to the ground. “‘m sorry love, i wanted to see you for a bit.”

why are you apologizing? there’s no need for you to, there’s never been a need for you to, and eren doesn’t think he would ever make you either.

“let me make it up to you.”

you don’t let him get much of a word out before you’re unzipping his slacks and palming the prominent bulge that greets your eyes. his body shows it’s gratitude by sinking into your ghostly touch. eren can only breath in sharp inhales as you free his dick from it’s confinement, straightening itself out as translucent pre stumbles from the tip. you shouldn’t be shy but eren is big in every sense. and your brain seems to struggle with object permanence; eyes almost blowing open in surprise of how thick he is despite you practically owning it. the phantom ache in your jaw seems to be a warning—you shouldn’t try anything.

but eren’s presence alone overrides all alarms and commands in your brain, and the hazy look he gives you from his seat has you subconsciously wrapping your hand around his base, shifting across the length and tracing the roads and ridges of his veins with your tongue.

he sucks his teeth when you pucker your lips at the slightly pinkish tip, feathering a little kiss before letting spit fall from your mouth and onto his cock. the dribble doesn’t make it past the head before you’re meeting it with your lips, steadily taking him into your stretched walls. the feeling of the burn from your mouth molding in indecent ways would make you wince if not for the effects eren’s soft groans and breaths have on your cloudy mind.

“such a pretty sight. p-pretty fuckin’ view.” a sigh escapes him when you hollow your cheeks. admittedly, it’s nothing like the home he knows your cunt as, but when you bottom out and his tip punches the back of your throat, it seems like the closest thing. it surely is a sight to see: a sweet woman like you, doing something so damn nasty.

your throat tightens with each bob, trying its best to prevent a gag but failing every now and then. still, you plant a hand on his knee for stability to lessen the slight burn in your knees given by the nylon carpet beneath them, and allow the mixture of precum and saliva escape your mouth and dribble everywhere.

“oh, fuck—yeah, you got it.” he’s amazed, seeing you take him like a fucking champion, choking all over him without a single complaint. “that’s my girl.”

despite going nice and slow, you get messy—his dick fucks up your sensory system. glittery tears breach your water line, threatening to drop and roll as you sniffle away.

eren is pulled out of his trance when your mouth escapes him, watching you with a slight furrow in his brow. you gaze at him through your pretty lash extensions, tongue unfurling out for you to tap him on. “tastes so good eren.”

“shit—don’t say that to me.” his whimpers are loud, as loud as his heaves for the same air that seems to avoid him. conscious of the chance that sound could somehow transfer, he drapes his hand across the lower half of his face and captures the guttural groan from his chest.

“you don’t need to be quiet,” your hand grabs hold of his own, carefully guiding it from his mouth to the back of your head. silently, you watch him with admirable and expectant eyes that could make him cum from the sight alone, “don’t you own this place?”

my god… you want him to face fuck you, you’re outwardly asking him to do so without a drop of shame. right until your makeup is ruined and a crying mess from how full your mouth is. he doesn’t do it often—he’s too scared of watching you cough up spit and develop a sore throat the next day for it to happen regularly. besides, eren is a pleaser—very rarely did he have you like this unless you openly wanted it. but with the look of expectation you have, sniffling and pleading for him to help you like a dutiful husband he promised to be, it’s difficult to him to do anything other than comply.

eren wants to give you a standing ovation watching you submissively relax in his tender hold. with eyes full of love, he steadily lines you up with his tip, counting you to three before guiding you down the length of his cock. your husband starts off slow, keeping a nice pace that makes it easy to inhale enough to go back down. but like all things, it grows—grows faster. hands tangle in your hair, driving your head down to meet him halfway; you gag and choke and drool out the corners of your mouth, you dig and scratch with your nails, you savour quick inhales that are quickly consumed and leave you with even less air than before.

the tip of your nose tickles the pubic hair at his pelvis as he holds your head steady at his base. the cut off of circulation has your eyes going spotty, but the lightheadedness just feels so so so good.

upon seeing the twitch in his brow and the rapid rise and fall of his chest, your breath hitches—he’s going to cum if you continue. whatever words you attempt to speak translates to vibration that makes his dick jump, so twice, you pat his arm.

there’s a look of panic on his features, ignoring the mess left on his lower body and he releases you from his grasp. almost subconsciously, he pushes all traces of hair from your face, cupping you cheeks and forcing you to look at him, “did something happen? are you alright? was it too much—i’m sorry, love.”

“no.” you shake your head, moving from the position in front of him that made your knees ache and buckle. quietly, you turn your back to him, hazardly pressing your body into his desk while your hands tease up the back of your thighs, dragging the dress’s fabric along with it. “just want you to cum inside, it doesn’t feel as good when you don’t.”

symphonies ring through his head: eren is sure he’s won at life—and he’s going to be selfish with it. you’re his freedom—your pussy is his national anthem, not the fucking two minute song that rings monotonely in his mind after hearing it. he can’t rip his eyes away when your dress climbs up and over your ass; it exposes your thong and it’s practically swallowed by the folds of your pussy, which leaves a damp spot right near its entrance.

“oh, eren…” you sigh in relief at the feeling of your hand fumbling to pull your panties to the side for your husband to see just how wet you get on the mere thought of him. your fingers are met with no friction as you slowly rub your clit, nails clacking against each other and you spread the slick that coats your cunt.

you pull away from yourself with a string connecting your fingers to your pussy, all before giving it a few love taps once more. “‘s all yours.”

it’s all his…what a fucking lucky man. your scent has commanding control over him, clinging to his body and moving him towards you like a puppeteer and he’s the woodwork. hands rounding over the fat of your ass, he makes quick work of pulling your thong off one leg and letting it pool at your ankle. he’s not afraid to admit it: eren jaeger will die for this pussy—his wife’s pussy.

he makes quick work of you, slotting his dick within your folds, fucking himself up against your clit a few times before convening at your hole. he sheaths himself inch by inch, reveling in the soul snatching grip you welcome him with. the pulsation of your spongy walls almost bites at him—cause a stuttered moan to fall from him as he bottoms out into you.

“fuck!” you squeal at the feeling of his tip budding up against your cervix. frantically, you try to inch forward to build some space between you two.

“nuh-uh, no fucking running,” he sucks his teeth, digging his dull nails in your hips to keep you flush against his body, “take it whole, didn’t i teach you better than that?”

“mm—mhm!” baring your eyes shut, you allow your upper body to relax into the glass surface of the desk while he finds his rhythm. but you’re at a loss for words, mouth hanging open as he drags out to the hilt and buries himself back in until he’s trying to bypass your ass. his repeated strokes strikes against the soft spot at the roof of your cunt, “you’re going so fast.”

“am i—shit—am i supposed to go slow?” he asks knowingly, to which you frantically shake your head no to. had he gone any second slower, you’d be throwing a damn fit, whining about his talking too much time in teasing you and throwing yourself back into his hips instead. “yeah, that’s what i thought.”

each thrust drags out more of the milky white slick that forms a nasty ring around the base of his cock. “r-ren, you’re kissin’ me…” you whine, wiggling and writhing as you feel him reach your cervix—‘n it hurts, hurts real good and eren knows you don’t want him to stop.

your sobs fog up the glass below, and with tear stained eyes you turn your head to look back at your husband. his pace falters when he locks your gaze—it’s hazy and pretty, your once neat waterline is now smudged against your lower eyelids, and your plump lips are in a pout to suppress what would be breathy moans to quick whimpers—all which reach his dick just the same.

eren wastes no time grabbing a hold of your leg and hoisting it up to meet your torso on the table. the new angle gives him leeway to hit deeper—rub against his favourite spot that has you seeing stars.

“fuck, yeah—p-please eren.” you’re babbling incoherently, eyes gluing shut to give yourself some peace of mind as you shift your hips backwards to meet him halfway, “give it to me, jus’ like that!”

oh, shit.

your eagerness messes up his pace, making him curse at the feeling of his cock slipping out of you and instead slipping up against your neglected clit.

“c’mon…put it back in.” you’re whining, rubbing your cunt all over him like the neediest thing he’s ever seen—but you’re so molded to eren; there is undoubtedly nothing else in the world that makes you feel better than the way he does.

“calm down, be patient.” his voice is smooth—firm. it pulls you down into a sense of docility; security. it almost makes you forget how you’re being defiled on the desk where he earns a living so you can wear the pearls on your neck. “you’re so good to me.” he’s mumbling, fucking himself through your folds.

you can hear the sounds of your juices mixing, and eren giving a low groan before bottoming back into your sweet pussy that welcomes him back like a man once at war.

“baby…gonna—i’m gonna cum.” you shake your head at the inevitable—you’re already whimpering and your legs are buckling under the pressurizing buildup in your bottom torso.

and eren? he would never deny you of anything you wanted—in fact, he loves when you cum; your body goes rigid and develops an ironclad grip on him, and your mouth hangs open in the most obscene, yet pretty, way. so he encourages you, coaxes you on by keeping steady, hitting harder.

“f-fuckfuckfuck—fuck!” when your hand shoots down to rub and fuss and your clit, you’re done for.

eren’s strokes don’t stop when you do. instead, he lets you ride out your high right on his dick—and you…your walls are fluttering around him. uncontrolled sobs leave your mouth as you grip onto the table for some sort of stability, “that’s it.”

“you feel good?” he asks, moving your leg from the tabling and bringing you up to meet his body.

your mind is so gone, you can only mirror the words of your husband, “mhm—feels good.”

his hands grab your waist, pulling you down into the chair with him. there’s little time for you to process your surroundings before eren’s got your back flush against him, arms hooked around the back of your legs, bringing them back towards your chest.

“you can take a little more for me, right?” he huffs, blindly navigating himself back into your hole before receiving extra aid from your fucked out self.

truth be told, you’d take anything for eren—even when you’re crying from the sheer overstimulation you feel as he sloppily bounces you on his cock. you can only pray he cums quick, all before you truly start to get messy in his place of work.

“give it to me ‘ren.” moaning sweetly, your hands make their way to the nape of his neck and tug at the hair found in your fist, “c’mon—give me what i came here for.”

and eren…he doesn’t like to keep you waiting.

“fuck—you’re just the most spoiled thing aren’t you?” he moans—truly, he knows there is no one to blame but himself. and when you give him pussy this good, what else can he do?

your heeled feet clack together as eren fucks up into you with little regard for decency. his breathing is erratic, either heavy or almost laboured and still. your name is stuck on his lips—rolling around on his tongue like candy—he says it like a chant, rambling on about how only you can get him like this. shallow groans and grunts as he stills in your cunt—making sure you feel every rope of him by keeping you right on him despite your squirms.

“feel full?”

you scoff playfully, moving from your position once eren lets you, only to see a coy grin settling on his face. he’s not expecting an answer—especially when you return his smile while tugging your dress back down your legs. his eyes follow your movements, watching as you gather the picnic basket, keys to your pink porsche, and lace thong within your hands before making your way back to him.

slotting the underwear into the pocket of his blazer jacket, you whisper, “you’d better be home early, mr. jaeger.”

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6sakusa · 1 year

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6sakusa · 1 year

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brother’s best friend!eren x kirstein!reader

warnings/notes: college au, suggestive themes but nothing explicit (maybe will be if i make this into a series), eren is a huge flirt and ur shy, unedited ngl bc i wrote this on my phone in bed half asleep, 1k

(18+) MINORS/BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

brother’s best friend!eren who first hears about you from jean, your older brother by two years. he overhears jean talking with you over facetime as he congratulates you on committing to their same university.

brother’s best friend!eren who raises an eyebrow at jean because he’s barely mentioned you before besides in passing. infact, he realizes he doesn’t even know what you look like besides for the few childhood photos jean keeps above his desk, which aren’t very telling as of present. he barely catches a glimpse of you on jean’s phone beside him, but from what he could see, you were much cuter than your irritating brother. (yet, he still hangs out with him everyday.)

brother’s best friend!eren who asks jean when the call ends why he’s never met you. he recalls how you’ve barely ever come up to visit besides the occasional trip with your parents. a few times, their friends had even extended invitations out for you to come join them to hang out whenever jean mentions you’re in town, but jean had always adamantly refused on your behalf. jean scoffs and says something along the lines of, “he’d rather die than let his scumbags friends be around his baby sister, especially you, yeager.”

brother’s best friend!eren who finds it amusing how overprotective jean is over you and it makes him all the more interested. you can’t help but pique his curiosity.

brother’s best friend!eren who eventually forgets about jean’s mysterious little sister until a few months pass and the following school year rolls around. jean begrudgingly asks their friend group if they would be willing to help you move into your dorm since your parents couldn’t make it last second and you would need the extra hands. connie and armin, always so friendly, agree. eren, who of course is as chivalrous as the others, or so he claims, couldn’t help but feel the same interest take over from months before. he agrees as well.

brother’s best friend!eren who has to listen to jean give the stereotypical big brother speech during the drive to meet you at your dorm. he rambles on about how you’re “absolutely off limits” and “you’re dead meat if you even think about laying a finger on her!” he can’t help but notice jean glaring at him in particular through the rear-view mirror.

brother’s best friend!eren who first meets you on move-in day outside your dorm next to a moving truck, with a massive moving box blocking your elusive face. you stammer out a quick greeting to everyone, eren barely hearing your sheepish voice from behind the cardboard. it was apparent you were struggling with the box in your hands. he chuckles and tells you to hand it over, that’s what he was there to do after all. you graciously pass it to him, and he finally gets to see the girl he’s been so curious of for the past few months.

brother’s best friend!eren who immediately thinks you’re a pretty little thing, and can’t help but be smitten with your bashful eyes and smile. your hands nervously toy with the hem of your dress, and he can’t help but take note of the blush barely dusting your cheeks. jean, ever so observant, barks at eren to get moving. “these boxes aren’t gonna move themselves!” he claims, but eren knows it’s a ploy to get him away from his beloved little sister.

brother’s best friend!eren who notices you trailing after him and the boys as they take your belongings from the car up to your room.

“something the matter?” armin asks looking up at you, hoisting up a box from the trunk. you stand sheepishly off to the side, seeming like you were waiting to ask something.

“is there anything i can do?” you question with a frown. “i can’t let you guys do all the work.”

“‘course you can!” connie chuckles, going to ruffle your hair. “what’s the point of having five guys here if not to do the grunt work?”

“don’t worry your pretty little head ‘bout it,” eren comments, and you immediately clam up and he smirks at your fluster.

“paws off you three!” jean shouts. he’s practically smoking from the ears.

brother’s best friend!eren who can’t wait to talk to you again, so when jean and the others aren’t paying attention, he sneaks up to your room where you were waiting. you were already unpacking all your things, and he takes note of the adorable knickknacks already strewn over your desk, colorful stationery, and even the few stuffed animals adorning your now-made pink bed. you were perched on your tippy toes, trying to place a hello kitty plush ontop a shelf too high for you to reach. he tries to ignore the way the skirt of your dress barely skims the edge of your underwear. (pink, he thinks.) he immediately goes over, and grabs your waist so you don’t stumble and grabs the plushie out of your hand.

“here, let me do it,” he states simply, setting it ontop the shelf. he doesn’t bother to remove his hand from your waist.

brother’s best friend!eren who doesn’t even have to look down at your much smaller frame to know he’s got you flustered again. admittedly, he finds it cute how quickly you get nervous around him. it makes him wonder how fast he can make you melt. (little does he know, you’re already putty in his hands.)

brother’s best friend!eren who immediately grabs one of your colorful gel pens off your desk and a sticky note and scribbles something down. you look at him through fluttering eyelashes with a confused expression.

“you call me when you need help with stuff like this, yeah?” he offers, slipping the sticky note in your hand. it wasn’t until you look at it that you realize it’s his number.

“stuff like what?” you question as you look up at him, and he can’t help but notice small cheerful smile threatening to break on your glossy lips.

“whatever you want, pretty girl.”

brother’s best friend!eren who walks out of your room with an undeniable smirk, leaving you dumfounded, and with a new contact for your phone.

do we want this as like a blurb series?? lmk, and feel free to shoot ideas/thoughtz in my inbox hehe

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6sakusa · 1 year

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boyfriend!eren who ties his hair with your hair ties, be it pinkish or silky or has flowers on it, he will wear them regardless and endure all the teasing from jean and connie.

boyfriend!eren who takes you on long midnight drives around the city and buys you donuts and kisses your cheeks while watching the stars.

boyfriend!eren who takes you out to cheap streetfood dates when he is broke but promises to make it up to you by flying you to Dubai or Maldives when he works hard and becomes a millionaire.

boyfriend!eren who makes ramen for you at 3 am with cheese and sausage to satisfy your cravings. who scribbles away all the calories and nutritional info on the back of your fav snacks so you dont have to worry abt anything else except enjoying food. who tried to bake you a frog cake and it ended up like this.

boyfriend!eren that doesn’t care about anyone else apart from you. who once let his insecurities take over and called armin in the middle of the night bawling and sobbing about how he will die of heartbreak if you left him for some other guy. who only calmed down once you assured him and let him sleep in your arms.

boyfriend!eren who shows up at your house in the middle of the night with ice cream when you feel upset or sad. who keeps a small portable bottle of your perfume or body mist so he can smell it when you are away or when he misses you.

boyfriend!eren who tries everyday to become a better version of himself so he can feel happy and make you and himself proud.

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6sakusa · 1 year

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— ( showtime! )

ੈ✩‧₊˚ rock ‘n roll!

PAIRING ༉‧₊˚. rockstar!eren jaeger x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS ༉‧₊˚. eren’s got mere minutes to make it to the stage, but he’ll need a taste of you before he goes.

WORD COUNT ༉‧₊˚. 3.1k

CONTENT + WARNINGS ༉‧₊˚. nsfw/smut, modern au, rockstar!eren, fem!reader (black coded), established relationship, quickie with little-to-no plot, eren has tattoos, reader wears a mini-skirt & crop top, mentions of cunnilingus and squirting, fingering, titty-sucking, handjob, semi-public (in the hallway), wall sex, eren has a tongue piercing + genital piercing, unprotected/no condoms, use of petnames (baby, princess), explicit language, minors shoo!

MONI’S NOTE... (let it be known that this is an edited and revised repost of my earlier released fic!) — i was inspired by this artwork, all credits go to @lyco_aot on twitter. rockstar rennie has been PLAGUING my mind!

Eren knows better than this.

He should be in room-thirty to test the sound systems for the concert, or squeezing in one last practice session with his bandmates. But what’s the need for such preparations when he could have his hand up your skirt?

“Why’d you bring me here?” The stale atmosphere of the secluded hallway is permeated by your whisper. Eren insisted that it was something ‘important’, but your mind’s preoccupied with the upcoming show. Before you can question him further, he takes hold of your waist and guides you backwards until your back meets the wall, and your leg bumps a nearby guitar case in the process. Eren’s touch is hasty– he’s in a rush.

“Let’s fuck.” Direct as ever, Eren boldly initiates. He seems to have forgotten that his performance is just around the corner. You plant your hands on his chest, feeling warmth radiate onto your palms. Despite your growing appetite for him, you know that giving in would only encourage his reckless behavior.

“Now?” You let out an airy, incredulous laugh. Surely he couldn't be serious, not when he only had a handful of time left to make it to the stage.

“Right here, right fuckin’ now.” Eren firmly decides. The conviction in his voice tells you how much he needs this; needs you. He keeps your body close, emphasizing his arousal by pressing the outline of his erection to your pelvis. The rough denim of his pants chafe against your tiny fabric skirt. He toys with your thighs in his large hands, squeezing at doughy flesh and poking his fingers through the holes of your ripped black stockings. You whine over the ticklish brush of his fingertips.

Eren swipes his hair back to rest behind his ear, a continual habit of his. Long, fluid tresses spill down his broad shoulders, and you can't resist brushing a few dark strands out of his face. His teal eyes are filled with swirling passion as he gazes at you, undeniably lovestruck. To break away from his intense stare, you mention the opening act that’s soon to start. He could definitely use a reminder.

“The concert, ‘Ren.”

“I know.” Your metalhead boyfriend pulls an unconcerned pout. He's never been one for taking responsibility. In his defense, Eren’s confident that he's fully prepared; having practiced his guitar solo tirelessly. His makeup’s finished up too, ink-black eyeliner applied to his waterline in flawless strokes.

He certainly looks show-ready; his grungy appearance is unmistakably ‘Eren-like’. He’s got on his favorite platform boots, the buckled ones that cause a dull echo with every step he takes, along with adding a few spare inches to his already tall stature. Spiked bracelets adorn his wrists, clinking as he rests his hands on the small of your back to tug you close. A loose fitting tank top drapes over his body, revealing the expanse of his warm olive skin. The most striking aspect of his appearance is impossible to ignore— through the tattered jeans he wears, you catch a glimpse of his boner, straining at the dark denim.

Evidently, he’s ready as can be. All that’s left is to get in a short-and-sweet fuck before hitting the stage. He might even use the flimsy excuse that it’ll help him shake off some nerves.

You seem unwilling to take such a risk, especially after how things turned out the last time his libido got the best of him. A few weeks back, Eren failed to notice his cue to take the stage; he was far too occupied with swirling his shiny tongue piercing around your clit. Once he finally arrived, the mussed state of his chocolate-brown hair was enough to let his bandmates know that he’d ‘taken you backstage’... You doubt that they’ll allow you and Eren to live it down.

“You remember what happened the other time,” You mention, dreading the thought of being at fault for another delay. He lifts a thick brow, lips turning upwards into a look of mischief. “Yeah, I remember. You came all over my tongue. I even had to take off my shirt and—”

“Ugh, Eren!” You smack his chest, cheeks going hot with flush. All the while, his prankish laughter ensues. How could you forget? You squirted all over him. The shirtless look only added to his heavy-metal charm, so the mishap worked out for the better. That still won’t hinder him from teasing you endlessly.

“You upset with me?” Eren stifles a chuckle. Upon seeing your eyes roll, he chooses to take it easy on you. “M’sorry, baby... It was hot, though.” He murmurs, squeezing your ass unashamedly. His large hands knead and grope in just the way you like. “I’ll be quick this time around, yeah?” You take his promise with the slightest grain of salt.

Seeking to mend your bruised ego and win you over, he presses fluttery kisses to your neck. It doesn’t take long for him to leave your jugular and gravitate towards your lips. It begins with warm pecks and lightly mingled breaths of air, until his head tips to the right, assertively prodding out his tongue. The silver ball in his mouth coolly grazes your bottom lip as he suckles on it.

You raise a knee to his erection, gently adding pressure. His body jolts at the friction. Eren instinctively grinds his hips, “Fuck, you can’t let me go out there like this,” he groans into your agape mouth. You swallow his sounds, eagerly returning haphazard kisses. “Lemme fuck you good. Please, baby?” He lowly whines against your lips.

“… Don’t take too long.” you sigh out a huffy response, as if you haven’t been convinced ever since he gave your butt a thorough grab. It was just satisfying to hear him plead for you.

He perks up to reveal a dangerous smirk. “I won't.” And with that, Eren’s flipping up your small skirt. Nimble fingers trace over your panties, feeling at the dampness he caused. Abruptly, your fingers tighten around his shoulders. He pauses at the sudden hitch of your breath.

“What is it? You okay?” to his relief, you meekly nod your head. “Yeah, but we’re in the hallway.” you mention, breathless. He merely shrugs in reply. The tips of his fingers are stationed at the lacy band of your underwear, hooked and ready to pull.

“So?”

“Anyone could walk in on us,” You clarify. Again, he gives a careless shoulder shrug, seeing no need for concern. You feel your patience slipping away. “Do you want your drummer to catch us doing it? Or worse, your manager?”

To that, Eren zealously laughs. “I brought us here for a reason. It’s empty,” his assuring tone provides you with a sense of comfort. “Just trust me, alright?” His fingers ghost over your nub, until he’s rubbing you through your panties. Eren watches the worry melt right off of your pretty face, lips going agape. You end up making more noise than intended when a moan escapes you.

“So loud,” he tauntingly clicks his teeth, “You don’t give a fuck anymore, do you?” Eren chuckles through his nose. He tugs the barrier of cloth aside, feeling at your puckering hole and gathering your sticky essence with the pad of his finger. He sends you a wicked grin before delving in, making light scissoring movements by spreading his lithe digits apart. He knows that time isn’t on his side, but Eren simply can’t imagine skipping out on prep. You need the stretch, even if it’s just for the briefest minute, in order to accommodate him later.

Years of strumming and plucking guitar strings have made him proficient at using his fingers, much to your benefit. The pace builds, with Eren rapidly entering and exiting. The veins in his tattooed forearm protrude as he moves with purpose. He struggles against the clench you’ve sucked him into, gritting his teeth and muttering curses about your tightness. You writhe against the wall, freeing out uneven puffs of air and repetitive calls of his name. Suggestively wet squelches accompany your shaky voice.

“Ohmygod— Eren!” you release a jagged cry. In an instant he’s slipping out, leaving you void and aching for him. Eren lolls out his tongue, bringing his soaked digits to his lips and licking them clean of your essence. You catch onto the slight gleam of his piercing while he laps at the pads of his fingers. “Wish I could eat your sweet pussy, baby,” he mumbles, peering at you through low-lidded eyes. “But there ain’t enough time.”

Eren transfixes his gaze on your boobs. He’s captivated by the rhythmic heaving, watching your chest rise and fall like a tide. Your cropped shirt comes with a dipping v-neck, leaving room for your cleavage to spill past the shallow neckline. There’s red text on the top, ‘PARADIS DEVILS’ displayed in brutal font. Seeing you in his merchandise makes his dick throb.

He fondles your clothed breasts in his sizable hands, scrunching your top above your chest and expertly unclasping your bra. He dips down to level with your chest as soon as the undergarment hits the ground, latching his mouth onto your left nipple. It perks and hardens underneath the chill metal of his piercing. You're lathered in his spit as he makes a mess out of you.

“I fuckin’ love you,” Eren slurs, gazing up at you from between your tits with the sparkliest turquoise eyes. Saliva coats his plump lips. You hum at his ministrations, running a hand through his dark hair. “I love you too, baby, but don’t spend all our time on my boobs.” you giggle, gently thumbing his bottom lip.

“Mm… fine,” he mindlessly hums. With one last kiss to the valley of your breasts, Eren reluctantly breaks away and begins to search through the pocket of his black Balmain jeans. He pushes past bobby pins, crumpled pieces of paper from his lyric notepad, a low-charged AirPod case and some guitar picks, until eventually removing a thin hairband.

Defined muscle of his inked biceps ripple as Eren swipes his lengthy hair back and messily bunches it together, holding the hair-tie between his teeth. Your eyes stay trained on the flexure of his tatted arms. “I wanna be able to see you.” His explanation comes out muffled. Hair falls in stray pieces over his forehead, and you can't help but adore the careless bun he threw it all into.

With his brown tresses out of view, Eren’s features have become sharper— enhanced, even. You admire the structured angle of his jaw, the straight slope of his nose, and the subtle cupid's bow of his pink lips.

Eren hurriedly reaches for his pants, studded belt jangling as he undoes it. The dark jeans drop to his ankles, pooling over his bulky shoes. He brings his boxers down with the denim, too. Eight lengthy inches spring free, erect and throbbing in a way that only you can relieve him of. Near the slit of his reddened cockhead lies a stainless-steel bar— the Prince Albert piercing that Eren impulsively got done a couple months back. It adds more stimulation than you could imagine.

He pulls up his graphic tank top and holds it between his teeth, allowing the tip to bob against his lean abdomen. Your eyes can’t seem to break away from the trance of his pulsing cock. Reaching forward, your dainty hand closes around him. Eren hisses at your touch, shuddering over the lazy twirl of your hand as you stroke him. Your thumb goes over the precum-smeared head.

“Fuck, babe,” his mouth drops. “Jus’ hop on my cock already.” You free him from your salacious grasp to hook one leg around his hip, using the other foot to manage balancing your weight on your heel. Your knee-high platform boots produce a low squeak as the soles rub against the ground. Eren warmly pats your sides, prompting you to climb onto him.

“Hold onto me,” he says. You launch yourself up with a little jump, allowing him to do the rest. His strong arms encircle your thighs, hauling you up and supporting your weight underneath his wide palms. You lock your legs around his hips, emitting a faint whine when his dick brushes past your damp folds.

“M’gonna be fast about it,” is Eren’s low disclaimer. You deserve to know that once he starts, he won’t be letting up. His tip catches your engorged nub in the process of him lining up with your fluttering entrance. “You can handle that, right, princess?” You give an eager nod, dazedly looking at him through wispy curled lashes. Your hands are stationed at his shoulders, your grip secure as he keeps you pinned to the wall with his body weight.

Then comes the sudden ping of his phone, chiming from the pocket of his jeans that lay rumpled at his feet. Without even a glance, he recognizes it as a notifier for the performance beginning shortly. “Goddamn.” Eren detests being rushed like nothing else. Nevertheless, he has to make due with the timeframe. The show starts in ten measly minutes, but he’ll manage to satisfy the both of you in five, give-or-take.

“We’re on the clock, ‘Ren. Hurry up ‘n fuck me.” you release a sigh. “Yeah?” Eren hardly speaks, just barely, tongue prodding at his inner cheek. He sees your intention; you simply mean to spur him on since there's no time to waste. The quiet answer he gives is domineering— his firm glare contains a look of raw desire. At long last, he’ll have his way with you.

One fluid motion is all it takes for Eren to drive himself into your sopping core. He’s been inside for no less than a millisecond, but he’s surely about to lose his mind in this pussy— you’re somehow tighter than before, wetter than ever, and squeezing the fuck out of his long, meaty cock.

“Mm, fuck!” You gasp out through tremulous breaths. The vicious way he plunges in and draws out wrings a moan straight from your throat. You feel him twitching intensely from within you, just as the sensation of your contracting walls make his eyes roll to the back of his head.

Given his size, it doesn’t take long for him to reach deep and stir you up from the inside out. His piercing immediately grazes your sweet spot, wracking a mewl from your plush lips. Before you can remotely adapt to him, Eren’s pulling out and slamming back in again, reaching the hilt with every periodic snap of his hips. Your body jolts in his arms. The thick stretch is fleeting and doesn't have a chance to settle in.

“Ah— ‘Ren!” He drinks in your cries, gracing you with the sloppiest of open-mouthed kisses. He rocks you back and forth with pure strength, bouncing you on his dick. The sharp resound of clapping skin penetrates the air— but not as deep as he’s penetrating you. He ruts into you manically, the speed unrelenting. Your manicured nails pierce the tan skin of his shoulders. “I got you, baby,” Eren grunts, voice strained. “I got you.”

He’s entranced by your being, wholly absorbed in how good you make him feel. Eren conveys his affection by maintaining impassioned eye contact, which he never breaks even when pounding into you. His key pendant dangles between your sweat-sheen bodies, swinging with every thrust.

Eren’s tempo picks up. Urgently, he fucks you against the ceramic wall. “I’ve— shit, been waitin’ to do this all day,” he admits through breathy whimpers, the silver ball in his mouth gleaming when he speaks. Despite his best efforts, Eren found himself constantly distracted during microphone testing and instrument rehearsals, as thoughts of you consumed his mind. The day progressed, and his yearning for you only ever grew stronger, until he was unable to resist. He witnesses your beauty and can’t help the urge to bask in it— to bask in you.

“I could fuck you for hours,” Eren groans, punctuating his words with harsh upward thrusts. Your tits bounce against his chest as he delivers forceful, calculated strokes.

Your climax nears. It’s undeniable, considering how you clamp down on his girth like nothing else matters. “I—I’m so close!” you hiccup, choking on your words. It’s like you can feel the dick in your throat. You’re going crazy, and world-renowned rockstar Eren Matthew Jaeger is to blame. If he continues to whisk your guts around like this, you’ll wind up with an empty brain and a full womb— and Eren’s determined to make that happen before the opening act.

“Gonna come, baby?” he coos, flashing you a crude smile. Your reply consists of a fractured whine, with a high-pitched 'mm-hm!' being the only discernible utterance. He prompts your brewing orgasm by drilling away at your cunt. “Then fuckin’ do it.” His guttural command impels you to snap. When you throw your head back and spasm in his arms, Eren knows he’s done it; made you cum all over his dick in no less than four minutes.

He’s soon to follow. Eren leans his forehead onto yours, panting out calls of your name against your lips. The deepness of his moans reverberate and bounce around your ears– you can hear his desperation to finish. He buries his face into the crook of your neck when he ultimately comes, cock jumping as he uses your snug pussy to empty his balls. You're filled with him to the very brim, warm seed trickling past your cunt in pearly white globs.

Your frantic heartbeat begins to calm as the high gradually wears off. You unclasp Eren from your iron grip, and he guides you back down to your feet. He chuckles over the slight shake in your legs. “Careful,” He embraces you tightly, providing a stable anchor and keeping you from stumbling against the wall for support. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his slim waist to give a weary hug.

“I finished in time. Told you not to worry,” he mutters, chin resting atop your head. As always, his restive hands find their way to the round of your ass.

“If you didn't, I woulda’ made you go out there with your pants down.” you scoff at him. Eren’s chest vibrates with unbelieving laughter. “Sure you would, princess.” He pulls his jeans back into place and fastens the belt. As for you, he helps to flatten out your bunched-up skirt. From underneath soaked panties, you keep loads of his arousal stored inside of your spent pussy. He’s truly blessed to have such a pretty little cumdump.

“I’ll take care of you properly after the show,” Eren faintly whispers, low-toned words fluttering onto the shell of your ear. His assured promise makes you wet with anticipation. He grabs his cherry red guitar from the sticker-covered case and slings it over his shoulder, exchanging a pillowy-soft kiss with you before parting ways.

Eren knows so much fucking better than this— sneaking in a fast-fuck before a gig. Lust clouds his better judgment.

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6sakusa · 1 year

Text

Always the Quiet Ones

One Shot

Pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

Summary: eren mistakenly took his new lab partner for being quiet, only to discover she was so much more than that.

Word Count: ~13.2k i am so sorry i just really like emotional investment ok

Content: explicit sexual content, explicit language, alcohol, rough(-ish?) sex, praise, spanking. reader discretion advised.

It was the honest-to-God truth when Eren said he wasn’t looking to catch feelings for anyone. But then you came along.

You were harmless enough—nothing more than his quiet lab partner in anatomy. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to think of you, other than you had a tendency to keep to yourself. When you did speak up, you kept your words brief, always pertinent to whatever assignment was at hand. But more days than not, you would only address Eren with a cursory nod, just when he’d take his seat beside you. Sometimes you couldn’t even bother to let your eyes flicker up from your textbook to acknowledge him properly.

So, Eren treated you the same, only bringing the bare minimum to your conversations. One-word answers. A specific grunt for yes, a different one for no—each you had to learn. The class dragged on long enough as it was, and there were many times when Eren found himself wishing he had a friendlier lab partner to spend his hours with. Or, at the very least, he wished he had one that could talk to him.

When Eren was exceptionally bored, his mind would wander to thoughts of you, why you were—for lack of better words—like that. Quiet. Standoff-ish. Withdrawn. He had a few ideas in mind, the most probable theory was that you were merely shy. That would make the most sense, wouldn’t it?

Or maybe you were the type of student that took her classes way too seriously. You were in your third year, after all. Maybe you were trying to get into a good graduate program. Or you just really liked anatomy. That’d make sense, too, because Eren would catch you reading with your face far too close to your book, sort of like a nerd. But other times, it seemed like you were just avoiding looking him in the eye.

Then there were the days—usually when Eren was particularly disgruntled—that your quietness irked him to no end. He knew it was irrational, but damn it, why were you like that? And all the time, too. Those were the times when he’d assume you were stuck up. What other reason could there be for you to ignore him so purposefully? He’d feel a little bad for it later, but sometimes he’d think you were just a bitch—simple as that.

Eren’s theories could go on and on, but none of them were true. At least, you didn’t think of yourself as a bitch. No, the reason behind your reserved attitude was much more straightforward than that.

You had a stupid crush on Eren.

A girlish, middle school, twirling-your-hair-around-your-finger crush. The kind of crush that made your stomach feel hollow and full, somehow at the same time, and had you gushing to your roommate even though you knew you’d never do anything about it.

You felt this way since last semester. But of course, Eren didn’t know that. You weren’t even sure he knew of your existence until Professor Hange partnered up the two of you.

Oh, God. Just thinking about that day made you sick with anxiety. When it happened, you swore you were going to die. Like, actually keel over from a heart attack in the middle of class and die.

Maybe there was another universe out there in which you would’ve been thrilled to have this forced time with your crush. Perhaps he’d even give you his number to text him about homework, and in that other universe, you’d be giddy over it.

But that was not the case because, in this universe, anatomy was far from your strongest subject. Very, very far.

When you were paired with Eren, all you could think about was the ways you would inevitably embarrass yourself in front of him, lab after lab. It terrified you, even to the point where you wouldn’t dare to ask him a question out of fear of sounding dumb. You’d go without having him repeat himself when you couldn’t make out what he had said, only managing to scribble down what little you could.

It was despicable. It was despicable, and you knew it, and you still couldn’t help it because it was much easier to pretend like Eren wasn’t there to begin with. Even if it meant you were starting to see your grade slip. You hoped to keep that—and your crush—a secret from him, but one day, he got too nosy for your liking.

Your lab report was handed back to you, face down, just like always. You knew professors did that for everyone, no matter the grade, but you couldn’t help but think it was specifically for you.

You didn’t want to, but you picked up the assignment—albeit, not as close as you should have for someone wanting to hide their score—and peeked in the corner. You, unsurprisingly, were met with a lousy grade. Again.

Eren leaned back in his seat, just far enough to steal a glimpse from over your shoulder. He shouldn’t have done it, but he was curious as to why you always hid your papers. He figured you must have been good at the subject. That would fit well with your stuck-up attitude, wouldn't it?

But what he saw surprised him, especially when he thought of his own grade. He wasn’t thinking when he chuckled, “Wow. Are you even writing anything down?”

You startled, clutching the papers against your chest. “Huh?”

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. He was, but it didn’t come off as tactfully as he had hoped. Eren often let his thoughts haphazardly turn to words. But you didn’t know about that nasty habit of his. All you were thinking was, shit, because he had finally figured out you had no idea what you were doing.

Eren saw the panic as it ran across your face. Feeling a bit bad about it, he cracked a small smile at you, maybe for the first time. Still, his eyebrows wore a look of pity that he couldn’t hold back.

“The lab,” Eren said, pointing to the paper crumpling in your grasp. Embarrassment washed over you when you realized how dramatic you were being, and you quickly folded the assignment in half to store away in your bag. “We do them together every week. How are you screwing them up that badly?”

You gave him a hard frown and regretted thinking he’d be anything more than curt with you. Even with the pity brows, you weren’t feeling much sympathy from him.

You didn’t say anything back because what kind of question was that? You could only stare past him blankly, imagining how this horrible moment would torment you as you tried to fall asleep that night.

You only looked at him again when you heard his chair drag against the tile. He sighed—a little too loudly to be considered natural—and started to put his things into his book bag.

“Look,” Eren started to say. He glanced up at you once he had zipped his bag shut. It made you flighty. “You don’t have to get stuck with a shitty grade. I bet I can help.”

His voice was flat and you didn’t like his delivery much, but underneath it, there was a glint of kindness. You didn’t know where it was coming from, and frankly, neither did Eren. Maybe he was feeling guilty for being so thoughtless. It was hard not to, what with the way your face—always so stoic he’d think you were made of marble—turned sullen. He didn’t like how it made him feel. Or perhaps it was more like he disliked knowing you could pull such a reaction out of him.

“You still have my number, yeah?” Eren asked you.

You nodded. You did, in fact, still have his phone number. It was in the top corner of the front of your notebook—the very first thing you wrote down. Well, he wrote it down after your first class together, just like you hoped he would. You decided not to save it in your phone; you were too worried about the possibility of drunk texting him.

“Good,” he said. “We can meet up sometime to study together.”

“Okay, yeah. Thanks,” you said, quietly at first, but your confidence grew with each word when you realized that this might not have to go down as one of your top ten most embarrassing memories.

“Sure.” Eren stood up and swung his bag over his shoulder. He smiled at you again. It was real this time—big enough to make your stomach flop. “I can’t let my lab partner flunk out on me.”

So that was where it began. ‘It’ being that you and Eren would study together—occasionally. Nothing more.

By studying, you did not mean the fun stuff. You know, like having him study your anatomy rather than the pictures in his textbook. Oh, well. You could still dream.

It took about two study dates (you preferred to call them that but only to yourself) before didn’t sit on the edge of your seat around him. As lame as it sounded, he made you incredibly nervous—maybe even more nervous than you felt around him in class.

And just like in class, you tried your hardest to keep your eyes on your text. You knew if you looked at him, you’d turn into a pile of goo before you could even look away.

It was shameful to admit, but you’d find yourself stealing a glimpse of him, but only when you were certain he wouldn’t notice. You’d catch him when he was jotting something down because you liked when he was pensive. His dark brows would sit low over his eyes and his bottom lip would jut out ever so slightly. And sometimes, only when he was stumped, he’d run his fingers through his hair while he thought. You liked that, too.

By the time midterms had come and gone, you were seeing Eren more and more often—at least twice a week. Once during lab, then another when you’d meet up to study. Maybe a third time if you had a lab report due. By then, it was impossible to allow your heart to flutter every time you looked at him, otherwise it was bound to give out.

What you wanted to be study dates started to feel more like you were getting tutoring lessons from him. Once you were convinced Eren’s willingness to help was genuine, you didn’t worry as much about sounding dumb. He never seemed bothered when explaining a topic to you, even if you went overboard with the questions. Once you started talking to him, it was hard to get you to stop.

It was nice when you didn’t have to think as much when you were around him. He’d poke fun at you because you always mixed up dorsal and ventral, and you never let him live down spelling ‘brain’ as ‘brian.’ ‘It was one time,’ he’d always complain back to you.

After being snarked at one too many times in the library for goofing off, you tried to get one of those private study rooms. They were only available by reservation and since those were hard to come by, other spots around campus had to do. Sometimes you’d go over to Eren’s place, no further than a five-minute walk from campus.

Eren lived in a house with three other boys. Jean, Connie, and Armin. You found Jean and Connie to be nice enough based on the handful of conversations you had with them. But Eren blamed them for the reason you didn’t study at the house often, accusing them of being too distracting to think straight.

Eren wouldn’t ever tell you this—hell, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d admit this to—but the real reason he didn’t like to study at his place was Armin.

Armin. Eren’s blonde best friend for the last ten years. His roommate that you found to be as sweet as a button. Armin knew much more about anatomy than you and Eren, maybe even combined. When he was bored, Armin would join you on the couch and answer your questions that Eren didn’t know.

Eren couldn’t pinpoint why it bothered him so much. He always knew Armin was smarter than him; it was never a problem before. It irked him endlessly, but instead of trying to figure it out, he decided he’d start going to your apartment to study instead. Your roommate, Hitch, was more tolerable to be around, anyway.

It was around finals when you were smacked in the face with the not-so-subtle reminder that you still had a crush on Eren. It happened when your study dates became less of a one-on-one thing and more like a group hangout.

You were friendly with a few of the classmates that sat near you. The girl, Mina, told you that she, Thomas, and Samuel were getting together to prepare for the upcoming final exam. She said you and Eren should join.

You didn’t respond right away, but you felt that sick churning in your stomach when Eren did. ‘She needs all the help she can get,’ Eren replied, giving you a playful pat on the shoulder. He was only joking, of course, but you wished he didn’t sound so eager. You especially wished his hand, innocently placed on your back, didn’t make your face burn.

You got over it quickly. It was hard to stay bitter at people you got along well with, so much so that you’d accomplish more chatting than studying. Luckily for the rest of you, Eren and Thomas knew enough to help you skate by.

But when Eren started to text in the new group chat more than he’d text you, you couldn’t help but feel a sting. It felt like you had let your chances with him slip by because, next semester, you wouldn’t be his lab partner anymore.

You left the final feeling okay at best. You walked out with your head down, not paying attention as Mina caught up behind you. She invited you to come by her place that Friday—said some of your classmates were coming to celebrate the end of Professor Hange’s pop quizzes. You didn’t think much about it when you said yes.

You were at the get-together for maybe an hour, maybe longer, when someone was drunk enough to start a game of Never Have I Ever. You had just thrown away your second beer and felt just adventurous enough to play.

Mina’s living room was a bit small for hosting, but it was nice enough. She had it decorated in string lights for the holiday season, casting a colorful but warm glow over the room.

She had everyone crowd around, sitting where they could whether it was on the couch or on the floor. In the center of that ragged circle was an old beer. According to Samuel, it had been left out for a few hours and chugging it would serve as punishment for putting the last of your fingers down. And while you were tipsy, you certainly hadn’t drunk enough to be down for that.

You didn’t know it then, but you were about to be the loser of this game.

You sat on the floor, legs folded to your chest, with your hand growing tired in the air. Only your index finger was left standing when Mina shouted that it was her turn.

“Never have I ever had a body count higher than five,” she said.

A few people put a finger down, but it didn’t matter. You dropped your forehead to your knees in defeat and let your hand slump to your side.

Everyone was laughing, hounding you to drink the beer, when you asked, “Do I have to?”

You were too busy cracking open that lukewarm can, frowning as you went, to look past the heckling. If you did, you would have seen that Eren went quiet. No one seemed to notice the shift in him, even as a firm crease formed just between his unsettled brows.

He didn’t know what he was feeling, but it reminded him of how he felt seeing you laugh with Armin. It made him not want to look at you because the sight made something burn uncomfortably deep in his stomach.

It wasn’t that your body count offended him. After all, he had to put a finger down for the same reason. Though he would say he was surprised��it was always the quiet ones, wasn’t it? He didn’t know what was wrong with him or why he couldn’t kick the feeling—whatever it was.

Eren studied you from across the room. Your nose crinkled, giggles spilling from you as you tried, for the second time, to finish the rest of the beer. He’d seen you laugh—many times, actually—but its chime never ceased to captivate him, absorbing every last bit of his attention.

His thoughts wandered further, wondering if you’d crinkle your nose for him just the same if he made you come.

Right then, Eren saw you, underneath him. Your brows would pinch together cutely as your teeth dipped into your swollen bottom lip. He could feel your thighs under his hands, soft and giving under his palms as he pulled down your—

It was so wrong of him. Wrong to be in a room full of people and pretend as if you were the only two people there—the only two people to exist.

The swarming in his gut burned hotter, and he tried to dull it with another sip of his drink.

He started doubting himself, casting a downward spiral—what was so wrong with him that you weren’t interested?

Perhaps the sick feeling was more than just insecurity; he was also caught off guard by how wildly possessive he felt over you. So quickly, too, like a turn of the tides.

No, Eren knew what the feeling was; he just wasn’t ready to name it. He was sick with jealousy. Jealous of people that he didn’t even know, and for no other reason than they had the chance to be with you in all the ways he craved.

Eren didn’t stay at the party long after that. You left Mina’s just before midnight and didn’t think of much of that night, or Eren, for the rest of the weekend. And on Monday, you checked your final grade for anatomy. By some miracle, you passed the class.

* * *

It was well into winter break when you saw Eren again. You bumped into him at a party. There was about a week left until classes started again, and everyone was trickling back to campus to celebrate the new year.

You didn’t expect to see him again this soon, but then again, you weren’t so sure you’d ever see him again. Anatomy was the only glue that held you together. You wished you could say you had more confidence in the friendship—in him—but he hadn’t talked to you since Mina’s party. You thought he would at least have been curious to see how you did in the class.

It was probably better off this way, considering you nearly failed your lab because of him. Well, you technically passed because of him too, but you wouldn’t have worried about it in the first place if he wasn’t your lab partner.

All of that for a silly crush.

You stumbled into Eren toward the end of the night—you know, when parties start to feel more like the Twilight Zone. The limbo that lived between night and day. A few lights were on now, and whoever was in charge of the music had clearly given up long ago. It was all a not-so-subtle hint to get out.

Believe it, you wanted nothing more than to go home. You would have been out of there thirty minutes ago if it weren’t for Hitch. Your loveable, yet self-admittedly ditzy, roommate had disappeared from thin air.

By the time you thought to search for her, you had already drunk well past your limit. You were left dizzy, starving, and having poked your head in every room and around every corner. All you managed to find was a lot of dry humping.

The last time you saw her, she was one of those dry humpers. She was all over some guy—you guessed him to be the reason she even wanted to come to this party. Anyway, you were sure you’d catch his name tomorrow morning.

You were too distracted and still bubbly from all the leftover New Year’s champagne to see what was in front of you—even if he was rather tall, broad, and hard to miss. You didn’t even look twice as you walked past him, ready to declare Hitch as MIA. Your attention was only grabbed once you heard your name called out, and you were disappointed the voice was too deep to belong to Hitch.

You didn’t realize how drunk you were until you spun around and the floor tilted beneath you. It took you a step or two to straighten back out. When you did, your vision settled onto Eren.

He gave you a lop-sided smile, serving as nothing more than a hesitant greeting. He only made it more awkward by throwing in a cheeky, “Long time, no see.”

You returned the favor by offering a chuckle that was only half-forced; the other half was genuine simply because it was easy to impress anyone after a night spent drinking.

And since you had spent the night drinking, you felt all weird when you looked at Eren. It wasn’t that you were upset at him—maybe disappointed, but it wasn’t exactly with him. Eren never owed you his kindness, and going out of his way to help you study was more than you could have asked.

But now that he was here, getting shoved even closer to you with every passerby, you didn’t know what to think other than you should have skipped out on that last drink. You hoped you’d have yourself more put together the next time you saw Eren so you wouldn’t get tangled up in him again. You weren’t confident you’d be able to unravel yourself for a second time.

Eren took a willing pace forward and recognized the distant haze of booze over your irises. He realized you weren’t going to say anything, so he asked, “Were you looking for someone?”

“Hitch.” There was a pause, and you weren’t sure if he remembered that he knew her. “My roommate.”

“I know.”

“We were supposed to go get food, but I think she took a guy home,” you told him, for no reason in particular. “Last time this happened, I walked in on them doing it on the counter.”

Eren laughed, a bit harder once your face winced at the memory. “You should really consider finding a new roommate.”

“And in the meantime?”

“You come back to my place,” he said, so casually that you weren’t sure you heard him right. The look on your face must have given it away because he shrugged. “What’s the big deal? You’ve slept on my couch before.”

He was right. You had fallen asleep on his couch while studying once. He teased you about it—said you got drool everywhere.

“That’s different. That was an accident,” you sheepishly said.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place,” he pestered.

“Maybe you shouldn’t make your flashcards so boring!”

Eren liked his simple flashcards; he actually preferred them. Not everyone needed to spend more time highlighting flashcards than actually studying them.

He tilted his head and gave you a look, one that said, stop being so stubborn for once. “Fine, then how about you tell me how to make them look nicer on the way to my place? I was just about to leave anyway.”

He took a daring step backward, and then another, until he turned on one of his feet and headed toward the front door. He knew you’d follow him, and thoughtlessly, you did. You were just behind him as you meandered through the house and out the door.

You told him, “You don’t really need them now, do you? The class is over.”

“I just thought you might need ‘em.” Eren was bounding down the porch steps when he tossed a glance over his shoulder, just to catch the look on your face when he said, “Figured you’d have to retake the class.”

You wished you had shoved him down the steps, but he was already across the lawn, you trailing him. He walked with longer strides than you and didn’t worry about slowing down.

“Thanks for that,” you replied begrudgingly.

“Anytime.”

It didn’t take long before the two of you were close to campus. You walked along the main drag, lined with all sorts of businesses that thrived in the college town nightlife. It made it difficult to tell the time, with every bar still playing music loud enough to thrum in your chest, the beat perfectly in tempo with each of your steps—those of which were still fighting to keep up with Eren.

He didn’t even bother to look back at you when he asked, “Did you still want to get food?”

“Hm?” You couldn’t hear him over your shuffling against the sidewalk. Your feet had already started hurting hours ago, and this certainly wasn’t making it better. You really shouldn’t have worn the new shoes you were gifted over the holidays without breaking them in.

“You never listen, do you?” Eren didn’t say it with annoyance but with an unsurprised laugh. “I’m surprised you’ve made it this far.”

“No, you just mumble a lot,” you defended. “And for your information, I am not retaking anatomy. I passed with a C.”

“C+ or C-?”

“Plus,” you said with inflated and drunken confidence.

“I’ll alert the media,” he replied. You stuck your tongue out at him even though he wouldn’t see it. “Now tell me, did you still want to get food or not?”

“I didn’t think it was still an option.”

“‘Course it is.” He finally glanced over his shoulder to look at you, nearly skipping to keep up with him now, just in time to catch you stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk. “I think you could use something to eat anyway.”

When you were about to round the corner onto his street, Eren stopped short just a few doors down. A 24-hour breakfast spot. You weren’t expecting to sit down, more so thinking you’d flag down a street vendor. But you had to admit, breakfast sounded wonderful.

Eren took the booth in the back of the diner after you were instructed to seat yourselves, not that there were many options. The place was small and smelt of pancake batter and stale coffee—just as any diner should at this hour. And stale or not, you knew you had to drink it to start sobering up.

The waiter flipped your ceramic mug over and filled it to the brim. If it were nine in the morning, maybe steam would pour out, like it did in the movies. But you didn’t want to know how long this coffee had sat out.

You took it with cream, then dumped some sugar in, too. You reached for a second packet. You caught Eren staring as you tore it open, his hands folded around his mug.

“What is it?” you questioned.

“Want any coffee with your sugar?”

“Ha-ha.” You added the sugar, now out of spite, and mixed it in. When you took your first sip, it tasted as bitter as you had imagined.

Now that you were off your feet, they were nagging for you to kick off your shoes. You wiggled them around at first, just enough for your heels to slip from the backs. When you felt a sting, you couldn’t bear to keep them on another second—the diner was empty anyway. Once they were off, your feet throbbed as if they had their own pulse.

The waiter took your order and then disappeared again, only making rounds to offer a warm-up here or there, one of which you accepted. Eren didn’t say anything when you added another packet of sugar this time. You kept your head down and fiddled with the loose scraps of paper. You didn’t even remember what thought you were having when his voice eventually snapped you from it.

“You know—” he started to say. You peered up from the wad of paper you had been rolling between your thumb and index finger. He sat back into the booth and looked out the window with a quiet chuckle. “I thought you hated me when we first met.”

You matched his laugh, yours more disbelieving. “Hated you? I don’t think I knew you enough to hate you.”

“You were always so quiet.”

“Being quiet doesn’t mean you hate someone.”

His eyes flickered from the window to you. “Then what does it mean?”

It was easier to talk to him when he wasn’t looking at you. You felt smothered by his gaze and started to twirl your spoon around your mug. It banging against the ceramic was the only sound between you and Eren because you still didn’t know how to answer him.

“I don’t know,” you said, thinking you would have come up with a more profound answer by now. “It just means you’re quiet, I guess.”

Eren was interrupted by your short stack of pancakes, sliding right between you and decorated with a gooey scoop of butter. He didn’t order anything other than coffee, even after you said you’d pay. And once the waiter dropped off the syrup and scurried off again, Eren was quick to jump back into the conversation, much to your dismay.

“But you’re not quiet, and you’re not shy either,” he said, like he had caught you in a lie. You urged him to continue with a raised brow. “Don’t give me that. I know that’s not you. I saw you dancing tonight.”

Your hand stalled in mid-reach for the syrup. “You watched me dance?”

He played it off when he said, “Well, yeah. My so-called quiet lab partner actually knows how to dance? It just surprised me, that’s all.”

“If you saw me earlier, why didn’t you say ‘hi?’”

Strike that—Eren almost played it off. He couldn’t mask his eyes flitting around, or how long it took him to excuse it away with, “Oh, I think someone grabbed me for a game of beer pong or something. I don’t remember.”

That never happened. Eren knew it, and it looked like you knew it, too. The truth was that Eren didn’t go up and talk to you because he had spent the last two weeks convincing himself he wasn’t into you.

He even went as far as reinstalling his dating apps, all of which he had long sworn off. He assumed if he just went on a date—maybe even brought a girl home—then he wouldn’t think about you anymore. But by the time dinner was over, Eren could hardly remember a single thing she said. He was too busy comparing her to you, finding himself disappointed every time she laughed because it didn’t sound like yours.

Then he saw you tonight. Of course, he had to see you tonight. And of all the things you could have been doing, you were dancing. He favored you like that—when you were carefree. You were nothing like the girl he first met in lab.

And when Eren heard your laugh—more remarkable than all the others, like he had gone deaf to anything but you—he couldn’t even remember why he tried to stay away from you.

But here you were, seated just across the booth from him, cheeks stuffed with pancakes, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do next. He had spent the entire walk wrangling with himself, scared that if he had you, even in the most innocent of ways, he wouldn’t be able to get enough. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this because—fuck, what if you didn’t want him back?

Eren only lied about beer pong because he couldn’t outrightly admit he needed another drink before approaching you. He was so close to getting away with it, too. If you had just glanced down at your plate a second earlier, or if he was faster about sipping his coffee to hide his face, you wouldn’t have caught the flushed bridge of his nose; so subtle but just telling enough that you had to bite your inner lip to prevent a smile.

You poked around your pancakes. You held your fork to your face, inspecting the bite as syrup dripped onto the plate. You were rather flippant about it when you finally told Eren, “It’s because I had a crush on you.”

“Huh?”

You plopped the pancake into your mouth, chewing so thoughtfully that it nearly killed Eren. When you swallowed, you said, “I had a crush on you. That’s why I was so quiet.”

He didn’t say anything back, even with you staring him square in the face. He was obviously flustered. You chuckled lightly, just through your nose, and said, “That, and you always got better grades than me. I didn’t want you to think I was dumb.”

Eren didn’t even hear the second half of what you said; he was too fixed on the first. “Do you still?”

You knew what he was asking, but you played dumb to it. “Still what?”

“Have a crush on me.”

You thought on it while you went for another bite, your eyes on him like he had the answer already. He did. You both did. But you let the question hang heavy between you, just for another second. You weren’t quite ready to lay your cards on the table yet.

You tossed him a flick of a smile when you answered, “To be determined.”

He nodded his head once, lips folded together in a similar sort of smile. “Got it.”

You were satisfied by that, but he wasn’t. He watched you while you took another sip of coffee, then immediately reached for another pack of sugar. Before you could pour it in, he shielded the mug with his hand. “But you better figure out an answer before all that sugar kills you.”

You swatted him away. “Yeah, it’ll definitely be the sugar that kills me tonight and not the keg stand I did.”

“You did a keg stand?”

You laughed at how his jaw nearly hit the table. “Only because Hitch talked me into it.”

Eren laughed with you despite the shake of his head. “See, what did I say? You surprise me.”

You had only taken a few hobbles out of the diner and onto the sidewalk before your heels started acting up again. You sucked your teeth at the pain, only made worse by another step. You had noted your fresh blisters when you first slid your shoes back on, but you hoped they wouldn’t be a hassle since the walk to Eren’s was short. Now, all you wanted was to be drunk enough to not feel them.

“Everything okay back there?” Eren asked.

You were behind him again. Not because he was speeding but because your toes were more tightly packed together than a can of sardines.

“Yeah,” you said. Eren thought it sounded unconvincing, and his hunch was only confirmed when he caught you stumble from the corner of his eye. “It’s my shoes. I’m sorry.”

Eren stopped walking and turned to you. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just take ‘em off.”

“I’m not just going to walk barefoot.”

“Didn’t say you had to.” You didn’t seem to understand what he was implying, even less when he gave you his back again, bending lightly at the knee.

He couldn’t be serious right now.

“My house is just a few more blocks away. I’ll carry you.”

Okay. He was actually serious. He was about to give you a piggyback ride.

Your laugh wasn’t intentional but when Eren heard it, he looked playfully offended.

“What? You think I can’t carry you?” He straightened out, shoved his hands into his pockets, and started to walk again. “Fine then. Suit yourself.”

He was about to start walking again when you called, “Wait!”

You wanted to blame it on your feet or that you didn’t want to slow him down, but you had to be honest with yourself—were you really going to pass up this opportunity?

He flashed you a smile over his shoulder. “That’s what I thought.”

You ignored his boasting and began slipping off your shoes. He took them from you in one hand, then let you hop onto his back. His body didn’t give like you’d expect, and his arms were sturdy as they looped around your thighs.

You hadn’t had a piggyback ride since you were probably eleven years old, but you didn’t remember it feeling like this. Eren’s neck felt warm against your arms even in the crisp night air, and his hands were even hotter, like they could sear into the backs of your thighs.

He jostled you forward, higher onto his back. “Hold on tighter or else you’re gonna fall off.”

You hugged him, your chest pressing into his back. You had never been this close to him before. His hair, only loosely tied back now, brushed against your face. His cologne was faint—warm like amber, but there was something refreshing about it that tickled your nose. You drew closer to him, inhaling the scent.

Eren worried that you felt the roll of his throat when your breath hit the nape of his neck. It was embarrassing that something as pure as a piggyback ride could have his heart racing. Suddenly, he was back in junior high and it was his first time holding a girl’s hand all over again.

If this was all he’d have of you tonight, he'd be happy with just that, even if it ended with waking up with a sore back. He wanted to earn your crush because he wasn’t so sure it had ever gone away.

Eren set you down on his porch and fished for his keys in his back pocket. Once inside, the house is too dark to make out anything. You stilled in the entryway, entirely unaware of your surroundings, but listened as Eren walked ahead.

Not even a second later, Eren flipped on a light from the other room. It was bright; enough to hurt your eyes at first, but you could at least see the floor now.

Eren stood in the doorway to the kitchen. He wore a look of trepidation, staring at you like you were a scared little puppy.

He asked, “Can I get you some water?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

He waved his hand toward the sofa before he disappeared around the corner. “Make yourself at home.”

You took a seat to ease the throbbing in your feet and sat with your arms folded across your chest. Now that you had a moment to yourself, you could suck in a deep breath. You forced it out on a lengthy and trembling exhale.

It wasn’t anxiety that you were feeling—it was more like anticipation. You weren’t naive; you knew how this would play out, and it had you clenching your thighs together impatiently.

You didn’t notice how rigid your arms were until you uncrossed them when Eren handed you a bottle of water.

He collapsed beside you on the other side of the couch, and it squeaked under his weight. He took a few swigs from his water bottle and then glanced at you.

“I imagine you wouldn’t want to sleep on the couch in a house full of guys,” he said. He laid his head back onto the cushion, like he planned to be there for a while. “If you want, take my room. I can sleep out here.”

You didn’t miss a beat when you shook your head. The thought alone had you unwittingly flustered. You hadn’t ever seen his bedroom before. “I’m not going to take your bed. You didn’t even need to go through the trouble of letting me stay the night.”

“Out of all the favors I’ve done,” Eren started to say. “You staying the night is the least of my troubles.”

You smiled at him. You smiled at him, and you had no clue how it pulled at Eren’s heart. A smile so shy, no greater than just a curl of the corner of your mouth, yet he wanted nothing more than to feel its shape underneath his lips and memorize the taste.

“Okay,” you finally said. “But I’m sleeping on the couch.” You could have stopped talking there, and you probably should have, but his unreadable gaze had you rambling, “But, really, if it’s too much—if you want me to go, I can call a—”

“I don’t want you to go.”

You stammered even though you didn’t know what you’d say next. The room felt suffocating, the air thick enough to make your throat go as dry as chalk. Something had changed. You didn’t know if it was the glint in his eye, just barely caught in the light, or that look on his face that made you shudder at the base of your spine.

Maybe it was more accurate to say everything had changed.

You didn’t have much of your voice back when you confessed, “I don’t want to go either.”

It was barely a whisper. So delicate and saccharine that Eren wasn’t sure you even intended to speak. Your eyes were big and genuine, like you had revealed your secret to him without saying much at all. He couldn’t look away despite barely clinging to what little composure you hadn’t stolen from him yet.

You liked seeing him like that—seeing such an unguarded look on a face that was normally hardened. Soft and electric, all at once. You never thought he’d look at you in such a way, and you didn’t want it to end.

Now or never.

“Eren?”

His voice was just as taken as yours. “Yeah?”

Eren knew you as anything but bold, but right then, you were. You stretched your leg across the couch. Slowly. Your foot, then your calf next—until you had your thigh dragged over his lap. You kept your eyes on him the whole time. The light from the kitchen cast shadows along the angles of his jaw, showing you how it tensed.

You purred the words when you asked, “Why are you so nice to me?”

You were feeling courageous now, but you knew you’d come to regret it the next time you saw Eren on campus. You could see him now—the smug smile he’d give you from across the hall, or on the far side of the green, or wherever you’d inevitably see him again. You would turn into a puddle right on the spot.

But that didn’t matter; you heard him stifle the groan at the back of his throat, and you wanted to hear it again. So for now, you’d let yourself play the role for the night, and you’d play it well.

“Am I?” Eren asked, his voice acquiring a new rasp. You nodded. “How so?”

“You know,” you said. You retracted your leg from him to sit on your knees, bumping them against his thigh. “You walk me home when I’m drunk. Carry me when my feet hurt. You let me spend the night and offer me your bed.” You leaned forward and rested your hand on his thigh, like you might kiss him, but you giggled instead. “Not to mention, you tutored me in anatomy for an entire semester and didn’t complain once.”

“I think I might’ve complained once,” he said with a smile in his voice. His hand cupped your cheek and you tried not to melt into him. “But I can’t help myself.” His thumb traced over your skin. “You’re very cute when you’re drunk and when you pass a quiz… and when you hold your book too close to your face when you read.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do.”

You didn’t argue with him further because you were so close that your noses were almost brushing. He was still holding your face when his thumb swiped along your bottom lip. You wetted them, wanting a taste. His eyes flickered down to your tongue, then to your eyes again. Neither of you wanted to be the first to crumble the wall, the one you had spent a semester building together. One so tall that there were times you couldn’t see over it.

He gently caressed your face as you pressed your forehead to his. You felt his breath on your lips when you told him, “I still have a crush on you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Eren wasn’t cocky about it but soft. He sounded relieved.

Your hand left his thigh and splayed over his stomach. His muscles twitched under your touch. He couldn’t help but wonder if you knew what you were doing to him. You had to.

“So,” you said, long and drawn-out. Your fingers trickled lower until you palmed over the front of his jeans. He was hard. Much harder than you’d expect from harmless flirting. “Are you going to do something about it?”

He nearly gulped. “Fuck—C’mere.”

With the hand he had kept on your face, he pulled you to him. What you thought would be a crash of lips was much more affectionate. Instead of kissing as if you could make up for lost time, he kissed you slowly, his lips plush as they moved with yours. He was better at this than you had expected, taking his time with no destination in mind.

You parted your lips slightly, his tongue sliding in, hot and licking your own. He felt victorious when you gifted him with a moan, one he could swallow up before it met the air.

“Eren,” you whispered against his mouth. It came out more like a gasp. His hand curled around the back of your neck and tilted your head to the side, giving him room to explore your neck. He kissed the hollow below your ear, and when you gasped again, he grazed his teeth lower.

“Eren,” you reapeated, more breathily than the last but louder.

“Hm?”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to leave, right?” you asked, eyes fluttering shut as you felt him start to leave a bruise. You massaged over his length a few times before working on the button of his jeans. “Because you can’t help yourself?”

He didn’t answer before you had undone his zipper and snuck your hand inside his boxers. You wrapped your fingers around his cock, your grasp light and teasing as you slipped around him, base to tip.

“Yes,” Eren groaned—so wonderful to your ears. He would have tried to hold it back, but he was already too busy fighting the urge to rut into your hand.

He pinned you to the couch when he couldn’t take it any longer. Your back hit the cushion with another squeak from the springs, louder and more obnoxious than the one before it.

When Eren kissed you again, he didn’t want to take his time anymore. Because you were right, he couldn’t help himself. Not around you, at least. Not after you just told him you wanted him in all the ways he wanted you.

The couch was suddenly too cramped for your liking, limbs slipping and spilling until you were about to fall to the floor.

Your kiss broke when your head dangled off the couch. You each took a moment to breathe—or at least try your best to.

“We should probably go to my room,” Eren said.

“Yeah. We should.”

Eren took the back of your head into his hand and placed you back on the couch. You awkwardly fumbled around one another until you were climbing up the stairs in a hurry, clumsily tripping over your feet because you couldn’t imagine keeping your hands off each other. You trailed just behind him, your hand in his, as he led you to his bedroom.

But once you were in his room, Eren’s touch wasn’t as innocent as only a handhold. His hands were reckless—pawing over your body and gripping at your ass—yet so firm and sure that it had you moaning. Each tiny sound encouraged him further until he shoved you against the door, slamming it shut until it shuddered in its frame.

His forearms rested on either side of your head. He caged you in place, but you would have stayed right there and made out with him forever. His mouth was commanding but gentle enough that he could take you wherever he pleased.

Eren made you so damn needy. You took his loose, unzipped jeans between your fingers and tugged him close until you felt his cock pressed against you, your leg hooking around his waist. You ground against him helplessly because if you didn’t, you thought you might actually explode.

And, God, Eren wanted to give you what you wanted—everything that he had. There was a part of him that wanted to make you wait for it, maybe even beg for it, but he was only human.

His arms dropped to his side and he took a step back from you. Then, all he said was, “Bed.”

He sounded shallow when he said it, all breathless like his lungs were running on empty. You figured he intended it to be more demanding, but you liked this version better—when he was needy for you.

Your first step faltered, like you were high off him or something. You were about to lay in his bed when you heard him say, “Take your clothes off for me, too.”

Now that was demanding, his voice so gruff that it was still ringing between your ears.

Eren turned on the lamp on his bedside table. It was dim, casting an almost orange glow that was nothing more than a splash of watercolor paint over the room. Eren wanted to watch you undress, and he needed just enough light to show you off.

You were very aware of his gaze as you took your shirt between your fingers. It slipped and bunched over your skin as you peeled it up the length of your body. You were considerate of every move. How your fingers danced over your navel. How slowly and tightly you tugged the slinky fabric over your chest, revealing your bra with a bounce of your tits. It was so shamefully sexy. Eren couldn’t get enough.

He knew he told you to undress for him, but he couldn’t hold out any longer. You held your breath when you felt him behind you as you began to take off your jeans. His hands closed over yours, telling you, let me do it.

Eren’s hands curved over your hip bones, then met at the button of your jeans. He undid it, along with the zipper, expertly. All the while, he was kissing down the crook of your neck, the spot he had just learned you liked, especially when he sucked on it.

He did it without your asking, yanking a sharp exhale from you. He helped you shimmy out of the fitted denim, still leaving hot and open-mouthed kisses on your throat. When you felt your jeans pool around your ankles, you kicked them aside.

You turned to face him before sinking back into the bed. You laid down with the stretch of your back. It felt so good to sprawl along the billowy comforter, to finally be off your feet. If it weren’t for Eren and that ravening way he was eyeing you, you could have lulled off right then. You nestled around, relaxing your muscles that ached from the day.

It pulled a sound from you. A sweet, little moan that you didn’t even realize you had let slip. One so delicious that Eren felt his cock twitch before he could even take off your underwear. He couldn’t keep his gaze steady because he didn’t know where to look—he didn’t even know where to start. The sight of you, ready and beneath him, had him overwhelmed.

His fingertips, though lightly calloused, felt exceedingly gentle as he trailed them over your bare skin. So softly that if you shut your eyes, you wouldn’t have known he was there. He started just below the underwire of your bra, then down the length of your stomach. He tickled at your hip, and you squirmed cutely. He chuckled inaudibly through his nose, his head feeling a bit spacey as you stirred below him.

Eren’s hand stopped short of dipping beneath your underwear. He blinked a few times, hard, like it would clear some of the fogginess. He looked at you quizzically, as if he had reason to be suspicious.

He only asked, “How are you?”

You felt your brows knit together, mirroring his suspicion. “I’m good. Um, how are you?”

His face scrunched up, like he was about to say, ‘not good,’ and it made you nervous. You sat up on your elbows, interested, waiting for him. He ran his fingers through his hair, like he always did when he was trying to concentrate.

“We’re a little past exchanging pleasantries now, don’t you think?” you joked, mainly because you didn’t know what else to say right then.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Eren brought his hand to his forehead as if he could capture his thoughts before they slipped away. “Like, I mean—” Coherency was far out of his reach, what with how you had sweetly angled your head in thought, staring up at him through heavy lashes. Had they always been that long?

Eren shook his head like it was an Etch A Sketch before he finally got out, “Are you still drunk?”

You were relieved that something hadn’t gone wrong. You thought about your answer, taking inventory of every feeling in your body, all of which only wanted him.

“Not really,” you said with a slight shrug. “Those pancakes were a real lifesaver.”

You weren’t sure why, but he still looked hesitant. You took his hand and gave it a squeeze, smiling up at him. “I want this. Like really, really want this.”

Eren let out a short laugh that softened you up even more. When his fingers started to move again, dancing along your hot skin, he pulled lightly at the band of your underwear. He was toying with it, his once-boyish expression turning more brazen when he asked, “Then is it okay if I touch you here?”

“Yes,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on him—on his fingers—until they slipped beneath the band, though you were hoping he’d take them off.

That single, breathy word was all Eren needed before he crawled over you, his free hand planted against the mattress beside your head. You were still propped up on your elbows, close enough to Eren that with just the tilt of your head, you were kissing him again.

When Eren’s fingers ventured even lower, gliding between you teasingly, he groaned—almost whimpered—into your mouth.

“You’re so wet,” he said, still playing with you. He’d circle your clit, just long enough to have your jaw go slack, then remove the pressure and tease your entrance. “All for me?”

“Mhm,” you murmured, feeling his fingers return to your clit. He rubbed languidly, having you twitch beneath him. When you lifted your hips, searching for more, his circles became tighter and quicker. Your elbows wobbled until you finally let them fall, tossing your head back against the mattress.

Your mind was consumed with him—Eren, Eren, Eren. Consumed with how good he was making you feel and every place you wanted him.

And when you cried out, “Ah—all for you,” you certainly weren’t thinking about how desperate you sounded for a guy who was nothing more than your lab partner.

That did it for him. Whether it was how pathetic you sounded or the neediness that was written all over your face, something in Eren snapped. In one impulsive motion, Eren stood up straight, hooked his fingers around your underwear, and pulled them down your legs with ease. Once they were tossed to the side, lost with your other garments, his hand was back between your legs.

He pushed his middle finger inside you at first, your back arching at that alone. He curled it just the right way that had your breath already hitching in your throat.

You’d think he’d be arrogant about it—how he already has you bending to his will—but he was entirely lost in you, every bit of you. Your tiny gasps slipped past your swollen lips. Your bra and the way its straps had started to fall down your shoulder, exposing the delicate skin. How pretty you looked taking his finger.

Eren quickened his pace and had you shuddering, but as that familiar feeling started to burn low in your stomach, it was stolen from you just as fast.

You let out a frustrated sob and darted your head to see why he had rudely edged you like that.

He yanked his shirt over his head and threw it aside. Yet another article of clothing to search through later. “I wanna go down on you.”

Your face suddenly felt hot. You weren’t sure if it was from the sight of his deceivingly-toned stomach or how his voice didn’t waver as he spoke so freely to you. But before you could decide what it was, Eren was stripping from his jeans. And if you were still unsure as to why you had clammed up, the tent in his boxers—large and threatening to undo you—was most certainly it.

You were trying your best to look at his face when you asked, “Don’t you think we should be fast? All of your roommates are here.”

Eren didn’t want to be fast, not in the slightest. He wanted to have you, all to himself, for as long as you’d allow him. But it was easy for him to say that now; his willpower was beginning to wane the longer he looked at you.

“They’re sleeping. Don’t worry about them.” Eren’s thumb was making small circles against your inner thigh. It was making it difficult to say no to him, at least until he cracked a small smile. “I thought you said you were quiet.”

The look on your face told Eren you were about to quip something back at him. Just before you could, he leaned over you again. He held himself up with his forearms this time, much closer than before, encasing you in his warmth.

His mouth was even warmer when it met your neck. You felt his lips—his tongue—as he ran along the silky skin he wanted to suck.

Eren nibbled at your ear, and you let out an airy giggle that traveled straight to his cock. When he was at your collarbone, your hips wantonly rutted against him. Then, once he tugged down the cups of your bra, his hot breath fanning over your perked nipples, you rewarded him with a moan—even louder once he took one into his mouth.

You were so, so sensitive. All for him. Eren wanted to discover every nook on your body that he could kiss and every sound that you’d make along with it. He wanted to learn every last part of you, especially the parts that would have you wrecked.

His kisses continued down your stomach, with him lowering to his knees on the ground. He took your legs, one in each hand, and tugged you until his shoulders were snug between your thighs, your bottom half hanging off the side of the bed.

Eren palmed over the tops of your thighs, the flesh molding to his hands. He left kisses there, too. His lips were open and warm and so close to where you wanted them the most. Just the thought had goosebumps scattering across your skin.

“Let me taste you.” His voice was a quiet plead. He placed another kiss on your thigh, then another, with his eyes fluttering shut like he was savoring you. “Please.”

Your voice was lost somewhere in your throat, so you bobbed your head, perhaps a bit too eagerly. Eren gleamed up at you like he wanted to smirk, but he was smart enough to not risk his opportunity to have you.

At first, you only felt his breath on you, and it quelled the chill bedroom air. Next, it was the tip of his tongue. It ran through you, painfully slow but still enough for your voice to return in nothing more than airless gasps.

“Spread your legs wider for me.” You did as you were told. He must have been pleased by it because you swore you felt him grin as he praised, “Good girl.”

You made an embarrassing sound at that—one that you didn’t expect and Eren surely didn’t either. But it excited him, knowing that you were weak to his words, to his voice, to him.

With you, now open and on display for him, Eren couldn’t resist burying into you, even if he had fully intended on teasing you for longer. His tongue flicked at your clit, sending pulses of electricity shooting up your spine.

You shifted your hips, raising them to meet him. His tongue was steady, never slowing once he learned the rhythm you liked—the one that had you lacing your fingers through his hair and undoing his bun.

And when you angled your hips just a little more, guiding his tongue to just the right spot, it was like you saw sparks behind your eyelids.

“Eren—ah—right there,” you said on a frantic exhale.

He had the flat of his tongue against your clit, letting his tongue lap at you in tandem with the rocking of your hips. But when your thighs began to quiver and shake, he hooked his arms around them, locking you in place for him.

He continued having you feverishly, filling the bedroom with a mix of your wispy cries and his own groans. It was like he was just as desperate for you to come as you were, worshipping every squeak and squirm he could get from you.

“I—I’m—”

Eren looked up to read your face. You looked breathless, your mouth only slightly opened in a vain attempt to pull in tattered breaths. He released his hold on your legs and they weakly fell on his shoulders.

He replaced his tongue with his thumb, not breaking his pace, and asked, “Do you want more?”

“Y—yes.”

“You want my fingers?” His thumb left your clit and you mourned the loss, only for him to trace a finger down your entrance, barely dipping inside of you.

“Oh, fuck,” you writhed. “Yes.”

Eren let his middle finger slip through you again before pushing it inside. He curled it, sliding in and out as he rushed to return his mouth to your clit. He gave you a few kitten licks before picking up right where he left off.

You were getting close—so close—and if time could allow for it, you would have stayed like that forever, just shy of becoming entirely undone.

Admittedly, there were many times when you imagined Eren having his way with you—imagined what it’d feel like for him to finger and fuck you. But never did you think he’d beg to have you this way. You decided to risk a glance at him to know what he looked like between your thighs. When you propped yourself back onto your elbows, that was when you knew you were done for.

Eren’s face was flushed, a blossomy pink spanning his nose and cheeks. You were so wet, he was so wet—soaked, actually, in a lewd mix of both his saliva and your slick. His finger pumped in and out of you, working with his licks at your clit to have you ruined for him.

His green eyes, now shameless and darkened like you hadn’t seen them before, found yours and a gravelly moan escaped him. He felt a bit pathetic for it, but what had him feeling even more pathetic was how he couldn’t stop his free hand from working his boxers down his thighs. He took hold of himself in desperate need of something—anything—because you were possibly the hottest thing he had ever seen. He only knew you would look even better once he had you coming on his tongue.

You whimpered when you saw him fisting his cock, nice and fast. He was so hard for you, and you weren’t shy about staring. You couldn’t even pretend to be. You wanted to see how he liked it, watching him jerk himself with only quick breaks to give extra attention to his tip. You thought about how he’d fuck you, wondering how he’d like it then, and it sent you over the edge.

Your moans came out choppy and strained until your voice cut out entirely, your breath getting caught up in your throat. You sobbed silently, carelessly rolling your hips over Eren's tongue, helping his finger dip against that spot again. You wanted to drag the feeling out as long as you could. By the end of it, you were trembling, panting, and couldn’t hold your eyes open.

Eren had to stop pumping himself or he would have come from that alone. He sat back on his knees, one of his hands palming over your thigh while the other rubbed at your clit, his touch nothing more than a feather and just to ease you back down. You looked like you needed it—you were absolutely wrecked, with your legs limply pulled apart for him, just like he hoped for.

God, he annoyed himself for pretending that he never wanted you because you—you were a dream.

The only thing that could wake him from that dream was your voice.

“Eren?”

He loved when you said his name.

You sat up to look at him. It was harder this time because it felt as if a ton of bricks sat on your chest as you struggled to find your breath. Eren was quite the opposite, looking entirely unbothered. He had his cheek resting against your thigh, his eyes fixed on his finger as he lazily pushed it back inside you. You jolted lightly at the intrusion. You were still coming down, and he could tell by the way your muscles spasmed around his finger.

He was mesmerized by the feeling—you sucking him in for more—and didn’t even look up at you when he replied, “Hm?”

You would have normally found it embarrassing, how he started at you so unabashedly, but you were already so sensitive from your orgasm that the winding feeling in your stomach had already returned. It begged to snap again.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He loved hearing that even more.

Eren finally looked at you then, and if he were a dog, his ears would have perked up like you said the magic words.

“What was that?” he said, more playfully than you expected. You didn’t like it, especially not with his smug grin to match. “I couldn’t hear you. You were mumbling.”

“You heard me the first time.”

He slipped his finger from you, running it teasingly up the crease of your thigh. “Say it again.”

It tickled. You fussed, “Eren, come on—”

“No, I don’t think that was it. I think you said something else.”

“Just—” You sighed grudgingly before finally giving in. “I want you to fuck me. Fuck me, please.”

He beamed at you, proud of both you and himself, and started to take off his boxers that still hung at his mid-thigh. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Eren stood up and didn’t let you respond before taking hold of your waist and flipping you onto your stomach. You bounced against the mattress when you landed, it squeaking conspicuously beneath you.

You felt his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. He then trailed his fingers lower, down to your bra, and quickly undid the clasp. You pushed yourself onto your elbows and felt your bra fall, its straps loosely hanging around your arms. He took you by the hips, just where they met your thighs, and helped raise you to your knees.

“You look so pretty like this,” he told you, giving himself a few more pumps with one hand and smacking your ass with the other.

You yelped, “Eren! Roommates!”

“I thought I told you not to worry about them,” he said, with another smack.

The print of his hand still stung when you heard rustling behind you. You peeked over your shoulder to find Eren tearing open a condom. He rolled it onto himself, all the while, his eyes stayed pinned on you—naked and with your ass in the air for him.

He flattened a hand against your lower back, having you arch it for him. With his other, he gripped his cock by the base and lined it up perfectly with you.

He guided himself in more slowly than he wanted to, letting you adjust as he listened to you suck in a sharp breath. It was a bit of a stretch, but it was easy enough for him to push inside having already prepped you with his fingers, only to leave you aching to be filled with more.

When his pelvis was flush against your ass, he felt you flutter around him, squeezing his cock so perfectly he’d think you were made for him. A groan bubbled up in his throat, low enough that it was nearly a growl. The sound made your heart skip—right between your lungs—so you clenched again to encourage another.

“You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that,” Eren hissed hedonistically.

“Doing what?” you asked innocently. Then you did it again.

Despite his warning, he didn’t protest it. Instead, he started thrusting into you leisurely. He was self-indulgent about it, too, spreading you with his hands so he could admire how well you took his cock.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he muttered, quiet enough that it was like he was talking to himself. “So fucking good.”

“Eren.” The whine in your voice drove him crazy.

His hands, large and demanding, curved over the fat of your hips. His fingers gripped down as he pulled you against him, dragging you back to meet every snap of his hips. The indecent sound of smacking bounced off the bedroom walls. You didn’t complain this time. Your head dropped between your shoulders, eyes screwed shut, as you became lost in the throws of pleasure all over again.

“Eren,” you cried again.

He didn’t stop fucking you to ask, “What is it?”

He leaned over you, his hand snaking up your neck and cupping your chin. He angled your face to look at him—so he could see what you wanted. But you couldn’t form anything other than wimpy chants of ah, ah, ah, coming out mangled as he squished your cheeks between his fingers.

“Tell me how you want it.”

His words alone caused you to bite back a moan.

You finally managed to tell him, “Harder.”

Eren smiled, all slack-jawed and toothy, and you would have found it irresistible and totally ill-fitting for the situation if you saw it. But how else was he supposed to react after hearing what he thought only existed in his dreams?

He placed a kiss at the base of your neck, then on your shoulder. It was unexpectedly doting, but then you felt his fingers curve up and around your throat. Though you anticipated what was coming next, you still squealed as he hoisted you upright until your back was flush with his chest.

Eren held you there, fucking up into you—harder—like you asked of him. Your flimsy bra barely hung from you, just around your elbows, and flopped with each of his thrusts. He groped at your breast, taking your nipple between his fingers, rolling and squeezing at it until you were mewling.

He continued to take you as if you were his, and you let him have you. You let him use you like you were nothing more than a plaything for his pleasure, with your head feeling heavy as it lolled back against him.

But you were so much more than just that, and Eren was determined to have you coming again. This time, on his cock. He wanted to feel it.

“Touch yourself,” Eren demanded, right into your ear. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I wanna hear you when you come this time.”

Your hand slithered down between your legs. The very tips of your fingers bumped into Eren’s cock as you got yourself off. Your legs wavered at the added pressure, and you were practically vibrating when you came, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

It was hard to stay upright. You fell from Eren’s hold and landed on the bed forcefully, him toppling right over you. You struggled to rub your clit as he fucked you into the mattress. You were still riding out the aftershocks, and it had you squeezing your thighs together so nicely for him.

“I’m—ah, fuck—I’m close,” Eren grunted.

It surprised you when he pulled out since he was wearing a condom. But when you felt his hands fly to your sides, you realized he was rolling you onto your back. Your arms, like jelly, were tossed carelessly above your head. He pinned them in place with a single hand around your wrists as he pushed inside back inside you.

“I need to see you.”

Your stomach flipped at his words like they were poetry. Fuck. He had you so irrevocably wrapped around his finger. He had all of you. And maybe you were just lovelorn and looking for something that wasn’t there, but you swore he looked like he was just as ensnared as you.

You wanted to touch him, squirming your wrists around until he released his hold. You took his face, sticky under your fingertips, between your hands. You wanted to see him, even more unguarded than before. His eyes were moony and heavy-lidded and had you swooning.

“Fuck, Eren—I want you to come,” you gasped.

Easy enough.

He came hard. As perverted as it sounded, you wished you had a camera. You wanted to remember how his eyes snapped shut and record every sound. He buried his face into your neck with a few stutters of his hips, grinding against you like he could go deeper.

His breath was hot and panting against your already sweltering skin. It was a bit hard to breathe, especially under his weight, but you wanted to hold onto him longer.

You didn’t realize you were gracing your fingers up and down the back of his neck until he lifted himself up. He let his face linger above yours, like he wanted one last look, nudging his nose against yours.

You laid still, watching while Eren straightened out and disposed of the condom. Your legs felt too soft and lazy to move, so you only rolled your head to the side to follow him as he stepped into a pair of sweatpants.

“The invitation to stay the night still stands, right?” you asked, admittedly, with some sass.

“No, I was actually going to call you an Uber home.” Eren rolled his eyes. “Of course it does. What kind of guy do you think I am?”

You giggled as you pushed yourself upright. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Down the hall, last door on the right.” Eren took one look at you, then started digging around in his dresser. He tossed something at you, aiming it at your head by the looks of it. You caught it just in time. It was a t-shirt. “You can wear that.”

You held it up by the arms to inspect it, then peered over it to ask, “Is that weird?”

“It wasn’t until you asked that.”

You pulled the tee over your head and stood up to adjust it. You put your underwear on next but felt a bit more hesitant about the jeans.

“They’re sleeping, I promise,” Eren told you as he put on a shirt of his own. “Just be quick.”

“Okay,” you said hesitantly. You started to leave the room but poked your head back in. “I’m leaving the door cracked so I know which room is yours.”

He laughed, “Alright.”

You followed his instructions. The last door on the right. You even tried to be quick about it, too. You peed, washed your hands, splashed some water on your face, and only stared at your bruising collarbone for ten seconds before rushing back down the hall.

Eren was in bed when he saw the door swing open. “Look at you, Ms. C+, not getting lost.”

You made a face at him. “Whatever, Brian.”

Right on cue, he said, “It was one time!”

For whatever reason, you didn’t crawl into bed with him right away. You felt a bit like a deer in headlights, blinking at Eren, sleepy and with his hair still unkempt from your fingers. Seeing him like this, dressed in his shirt, and about to curl up under his sheets—were you supposed to just go along with it like it was normal?

You tried to think of something to say, but when you did, Eren cut in. “You can’t seriously try to take the couch after that.”

That was exactly what you were about to do. The purse of your lips had him chuckling because he knew he was right. He lifted the blanket up for you—once again, like this was entirely normal for you—and said, “Get over here already. I’m cold.”

Eren was extremely difficult to say no to, but you already knew that. You got into his bed and let him lay the comforter over you. Either his pillows were really soft or you were just exhausted, but your eyes went heavy almost immediately. Eren reached over you to turn out the light, and you felt his arm fall on top of you. He hugged around your waist and didn’t hesitate to pull you into him.

He nuzzled into the back of your neck and in your hair, pulling a giggle from you. “Are you always this clingy after sex?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, tickling you again.

Eren most definitely was never clingy after sex. But there was no way he could keep his hands to himself, not with how good you looked in his shirt, just barely long enough to cover anything. Maybe his intentions in lending you his shirt weren't as pure as merely helping you get comfortable—so sue him. You wearing his clothes like you were his was definitely a sight Eren could get used to, and one he had a feeling he’d see much more often.

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