#roommate eren x reader
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eren first meeting his roommate
aka ; eren yeager having a gay awakening <3
-> might be a series? idk i love roommate eren a lot so probably will be a series LMFAO also also there's really no obvious romance here, it's just silent admiration and crushes
also eren is very much puppy-like and high energy in this one hashtag sorry if u love emo eren, he will NOT be emo here!!! hashtag no regrets.
eren yeager x male reader
— eren was dead broke. his ass definitely did not have enough money for either dorming on campus or off campus, but off campus was the cheaper option. and since he went to a college so far away from home, it would be too big of a hassle to commute. so him and his parents compromised by giving him an "allowance" every month, which would basically pay for a third of rent. but that meant he had to use his own money to pay the next third, then find someone else to pay the final third. ( 1/3 being paid by his parents, 1/3 being paid by him, 1/3 being paid by a lifesavior roommate, aka you!!!!!)
— it was very odd to see eren, who on first impressions seemed like an intimidating individual, sit you down at the empty kitchen table and beg you, literally beg you with his hands in praying form, to room with him. he was very, very obviously desperate to find someone else to live with.
"please, i will be good - i've heard from all my friends i'm a great person to live with, my mouth will vouch (he is a terrible person to live with, but if he has to do more household chores in order to get a roommate he will). i will let you speak to my own mother and father, they will vouch and say-"
"i believe you, eren, why are you crying?"
"PLEASE LIVE WITH ME!!!"
that's an exaggeration of what happened...he didn't actually start crying, but his begging was insistent and borderline pathetic.
— in the end, you agreed !!! paying 1/3 of rent was better than paying 1/2 + the place wasn't in a terrible location, it was close to school, and was a pretty good size for two bedrooms. since eren was already settled in, he helped you move in. and that was when you were given a free GUN SHOW because damn was this man working hard in lifting your many boxes of belongings. it was almost like he wore a tight shirt on purpose, just to show off. he very adamanently told you that you didn't need to hire movers and he'd do all the heavy lifting, along with muttering about how they were "scammers" with how much they charged.
"eren, i can lift some of these-"
"no, please, consider this my thanks for moving in with me," eren grunted, holding a huge box of your clothes with relative ease. he was sweating, but that was because this was probably the third box of heavy stuff he had to carry from the car to the building.
he was wearing a beige shirt that hugged his muscular form, emphasizing every single ripple underneath the fabric. and as you two stood in the elevator (thank god the building had an elevator or else eren would have had to carry all the boxes up three flights of stairs), the only sound in the metallic box was eren's heavy breathing.
his muscular chest (boobs) were moving up and down as he tried catching his breath, his hands lifting to wipe the sweat off of his forehead with the collar of his shirt.
your eyes watched each of his movements carefully before you snapped out of it with the dinging of the elevator to tell you you were on your floor. you got out of elevator first, holding your arm to the door to prevent it from closing on him.
he shot you a smile in thanks before proceeding to easily lift up the box (it was at least over 50 pounds, mind you) and walk ahead to the room.
what you didn't know was that eren's cheeks were burning red as he had felt your stare on him earlier and it made him feel shy. you didn't have to know that he was purposely flexing harder with each cardboard box he had to lift. it was his own subtly way of trying to impress you, anyway.
it was flustering to know that it was somewhat working.
— after all the boxes were situated inside of the small apartment, he went to put all of your utilities away, like your own set of utensils, plates that you bought to share, and a couple of mugs. meanwhile, you went to your room to personalize and unpack all of your clothing. as eren was occupied working in the kitche, he felt himself smiling to himself as he carefull put away any of your belongings in the shelves. he felt himself laughing at one of your comedic mugs, a ceramic figure that took the shape of a chubby cat. the tail of the animal curved into being the handle and a funny expression was painted onto the cat's face.
"what's so funny, yeager?" you challenged, stretching your hands above head, "you think my mugs are funny?"
eren laughed, putting it away intot he cupboard and turning to look at you, "i think they're cute, they're also fitting,"
you made a face of uncertainty, which only made eren's grin go wider, "alright, you'll see."
"i'll see what?"
"you'll see — when i get you your own mug, you'll learn to appreciate it more,"
"oh, god, please don't." eren said, leaning against the counter on his elbow and staring at you, who were sitting on the other side, "for your first night here, you want me to treat us to take out? the chinese place down the road is really good,"
he watched your expression carefully. wordlessly, you walked around the counter and to the fridge. once you opened it, it took you a total of three seconds before you looked back at eren with a grimace.
"the only thing in here is ketchup and mayo..."
"those are the condiments i use to eat my fast food with," eren shrugged, making you only become more flabbergasted. "what??"
"oh my god, let's finish unpacking later, we need to go buy groceries,"
"but you didn't answer my question on dinner?"
"i'll make dinner — you save more money buying groceries and making meals out of them instead of buying takeout everynight, eren," you lectured, making him tilt his head in thought. he supposed you were right, so he didn't argue against going grocery shopping.
as you announced you were just going to change quickly, he then thought about it for a second longer. then a blush fell on his face as he imagined you at the kitchen, cooking a meal for just him and you.
god, was he really developing a crush on his roommate that just moved in?
— the grocery shopping turned unserious very fast. bring eren to any public environment and he won't be able to stay on track for a second. you didn't really know eren that well (it sounds silly to say that considering you are now living with him, but prior to agreeing to be his roommate, he really was just a stranger to you), so to see his more childish side bleeding through his cold exterior was a good change of pace. he was a very goofy guy, making funny faces at babies with the intent of making them cry, and would easily get distracted. he had tried dragging you off to the pokemon card wall several times when all you needed were groceries.
"did you see the way its face scrunched up?" he grinned in excitement before focusing on mimicking the expression a baby he tormented made. you laughed at the face he was making before smacking his shoulders.
"be nicer! they're just babies, eren," you softly scolded, weak chuckles escaping from you.
"just babies that make funny faces," eren laughed, switching from standing at your left side to your right side repeatedly as you stood in front of the produce section, "what even are you going to make tonight?"
"hm, how about pasta? you like pasta?" eren nodded his head in affirmation, "i was just going to buy some staple fruits and vegetables too, though, in case we get hungry for snacks,"
"snacks? i can run to the chips section too then! what chips do you want?" eren said, very excited to go to his second favorite section of the store (the junk food aisles).
"just get me a bag of f/c," you requested politely, making him nod like an eager puppy and run off.
you finished going down the list of basic ingrediants for a white sauce pasta, while also grabbing anything that you could use for other dishes in the future.
just as you turned around to your now full cart of vegetables, sauces, fruits, and meat, eren came bounding back towards you. this time, he was now holding five bags of chips, in his mouth he was carrying a single packet of pokemon cards, and in his fingers he was desperately holding a lottery ticket.
"look! we can open up a pack of pokemon cards, i got you one too, it's in my pocket though, since i figured you wouldn't want my spit on it, and then i also have a lottery ticket. i have a feeling we will win it big! and if we do, we won't have to pay rent for like five months!"
"eren, what the fuck? i thought you were just getting chips,"
the accused man pouted at the tone you were taking with him, dropping his arms into the car to free them of the five bags of chips, "i was!! but look, i'll pay for the lottery ticket, chips, and pokemon cards! c'mon, it'll be fun to open the cards together and everything!"
he almost pouted at you, can you belive this guy? pouted at you with begging puppy dog eyes. you almost smooshed his face with the palm of your head, but restrained yourself.
"fine, let's just go and pay,"
eren grinned in achievement, pumping his fist into the air, "c'mon, i wanna open these on the ride home!" he said, referring to the pokemon cards.
"alright, alright, i don't know anything about them though, so you're just gonna have to tell me what's good or not,"
"if it's shiny and reflective, give it to me, that's all you need to know," eren said dismissively. he swiftly took your spot behind the cart, pushing it with ease and only allowing you to walk beside him. "what pasta are you cooking for tonight?"
"i bought alfredo sauce, so i'll just add in some vegetables and to the pasta and make...chicken alfredo? if that's alright with you," eren almost salivated at the thought. he simply nodded his head eagerly, the bangs around his face bouncing at the movement.
"sounds delicious! man, i really lucked out with you as my roomie, huh? we're gonna make a great pair!" he threw his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in closer as he said this, an innocent grin on his face.
— that night, the two of you sat on foldable chairs watching tv. eren's parents gave you two as a house warming gift. it was small, but it was working so that was all that mattered. eren and you laughed at the tv screen until the late hours, where you both agreed to finally call it a night.
"should i make breakfast tomorrow morning? or are you gonna be in clases by the time i get up?"
eren frowned, "i have classes all day tomorrow, from 8 in the morning to 7 at night, so you don't have to worry about making too many servings,"
you nodded in understanding, "alright, then, i'll see you when you get back then,"
eren and you were about to break off to your own rooms, but he called out to you one last time, "uhm, what time are you gonna be in classes?"
"i only have one class tomorrow, 1 to 3:15," his face brightened up, which instinctively made you smile at him in return.
"we can go get lunch together then," he offered, "there's a good place that has burgers, it's like a ten minute walk from the main campus. i have a break in between classes at 4? if that's okay with you, of course,"
you grinned so wide that it almost hurt your cheeks. eren was a really nice guy, he was going out of his way to just get to know you better and spend some time with you, "yeah, that sounds perfect. meet me at the bus stop that's right outside the main hall and we can walk together,"
"okay, yeah!" eren nodded his head repeatedly, the bangs on the side of his head once again moving at such rapid mvoement. "then, i'll text you tomorrow when i get out of class!"
"sure, that sounds good." there was a pause and you pivotted your torso to turn away from the smiling brunette, "good night, eren,"
the man blinked and nodded his head, also turning away, calling out a, "goodnight, [name]," very quickly.
and the two of you fell asleep with grins on both of your faces. eren had brought the blanket up to his face, as if he was paranoid that there were someone watching his blushing face only redden. your smile was really, really handsome, his heart felt like it was in his throat everytime he remembered it.
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the party scene
roommate eren x f!reader
you and eren won’t dance
**find the series masterlist here
content warning: drinking, hitch and marlowe being annoying, someone gets pushed into a pool, marco getting clowned for his halloween costume, toilet humor
an: ok yall. here’s the chapter. heheheheheh. and you should listen to the song, when you get to it. for vibes of course. to many anon who guessed correctly, hundreds of kisses. not my fav roommates chapters me thinks (but also it seems like everyone else has different fav chapters than I expected so)
previous part linked here
-
“What are you going to be for the party?”
You can literally see Eren’s ears perk up, breaking his concentration from the dinner he was cooking on the stove. You tried to make ravioli for dinner. Key word, tried. He didn’t let you stand there for longer than two minutes because he didn’t want you to “burn the apartment down.”
You put foil in the microwave one time and suddenly he thinks you’re some arsonist.
“The party on Friday? You’re going, peaches?”
“Yeah. Jean invited me. Kind of being a wingwoman for him and bringing my classmate Marco, who I’m like ninety percent sure he has a crush on.”
Eren turns his face back to the pan, dishing the food around on the plate. You get up occasionally, grabbing things you know he’ll need before he asks for them. Setting the dishes, grabbing the salt (because this man doesn’t know how to season), the Yerba Mate Eren claims to hate but drinks anyways.
“Hitch and I are going as Anakin and Padme. From Star Wars. Apparently, Marlowe loves that crap and she never gave him the time of day for it. She thinks it’ll make him real mad if we show up like that.”
“You should put a braid in your hair. You know, like from the second movie.”
“Ew. I’m going as the third movie look.”
“Good. He’s hotter in that movie anyways.”
He flashes you a smile as he dishes out the food, lifting the plates and setting them on the table. You join him with the drinks, the two of you sitting right next to each other.
It was getting easier. Eren was your friend. Maybe even your best friend. You’d still get the occasional heart pounding, flustered cheesk whenever he walked past you or said something that made your heart flutter, but other than that, you were making progress. You can live with a heart flutter here and there.
“What are you going to be?”
“Jean wants to do some basic angel/devil thing for the party. I’ve got a white dress and he apparently has a halo already so it should be fine.”
“Have you ever been to a party?”
“Yeah. Not really my thing though, but I don’t mind helping Jean. It can be fun with friends. Dancing, letting loose and all that.”
“Hm. Save a dance for me, peaches?”
“I’m not riding up on you, Eren. That’s weird.”
He drops his fork, an exasperated expression spreading across his face. The vein in his forehead is prominent and you always enjoy when it shows up because you know you’ve won. He’s just that easy to aggravate.
“Who said anything about you riding up on me? I didn’t mean it like that. That’s like…perverted. You could expect that type of shit from Jean or something but-”
You place your hand against his forearm, laughing in his face. He stops immediately at the sight of your laughter, glaring at you.
“You’re so easy to piss off, Eren. I’ll save you a dance, okay? A normal one.”
He holds his hand out, gesturing for you to shake.
“Deal?”
“Deal, Ren.”
-
“Hey.”
“Hi Ren.”
He steps into the bathroom, standing directly behind you as you finish doing your makeup for the party. Jean was supposed to be here in thirty minutes and the two of you were going to go pick up Marco. Meaning, you were going to have to deal with their awkward pining for the ten minute drive to the party.
“Can you help me with something?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Can you help me draw the scar?”
“Oh, yeah. Show me the picture.”
He hands you his phone as you inspect the picture, the scar starting before the eyebrow and breaking just underneath the left eye. He sits on top of the toilet seat, his ankles crossed over each other.
“Ah. Hitch gave me this to use. For the scar.”
He hands you a tube of lipstick, which you slide open and swatch against the back of your hand. Too glittery for a scar.
“Do you mind if I use mine? Hers is kind of glittery and it’ll look kinda weird?”
“Yeah, sure.”
You bend over, digging through your bag to find the one tube of red lipstick you own, that Pieck forced you to buy for her wedding. You can’t show up to my wedding in lip gloss, that’s an atrocity. You find the tube at the end of the drawer, walking over to where Eren was sitting.
As you amble over, you realize that the toilet seat is way too low and you can’t properly reach Eren’s face to reach. You were towering over him, his long legs sprawled across the floor of the bathroom.
“Why are these toilet seats so low? I can’t even get the right angle.”
“Levi. Kenny told me he hates having his feet dangle over certain toilets so he makes sure to get the shortest ones when picking his apartments. As if Levi’s going to come shit in our toilet at some point.”
You nod, trying your best to lean over and indent the mark over Eren’s face. Out of all the angles you try, not one of them works - your head is blocking the light, your hands are in a weird position, you’re all up in his space.
“Just sit on my knee. If it’s easier.”
He splits his legs, tapping on the top of his thigh for you to sit. You nod, setting both of your legs on each side of his one as you lightly perch on top of his leg.
“That’s hovering. Not sitting, Y/N. It’s fine.”
You sigh, pressing your full weight against Eren as you lean back over for the phone and check the picture. As you slide over reaching for it, Eren puts his hands on your waist, holding you from falling off of his knee.
“Thanks Ren. Just wanted to check again before I started.”
You focus on the picture, the light shining against your face as you check where the scar was exactly on your eyes. Eren locks his fingers together behind your waist, pulling you closer so you can get a better look.
“Okay. I think I’ve got it down.”
You cradle the side of his face in your hands as you start drawing the scar on, trying to be as gentle as possible. Trying to avoid the fact that you’re basically straddling him right now. You can feel his cheeks warming under your touch and you try your hardest not to let the smile spread across your face. At least it’s not just you.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing Ren. You’re just blushing, that’s all.”
“You’d blush if you were in my position too.”
You shake your head, pressing your fingers against his lips so you can stop him from moving. You’re only halfway through the scar and if he talks again you’re going to smudge it.
“Since when do you wear red lipstick?”
“I don’t. Pieck made me buy it for her wedding. It’s for special occasions.”
You lean back, cupping his face in your hands as you glean your eyes over the scar. You compare it to the picture and figure it's semi accurate, giving him a smile to signal you’re done. You slide off of his legs, beckoning him to join you in the mirror. You watch him lean forward, eyeing your work.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“Can I try?”
“Try what?”
“Doing makeup on you.”
You pause, dropping your lipstick tube back into the box.
“I don’t have a scar for my costume.”
“I know. But you must have something left to do. You just looked so focused, like you were face painting, and I just wanted to try.”
“Um, okay. You can take this glitter. You basically just dip your finger in it and swipe it against my eyelids. And then along the collarbone too, because it's body glitter.”
He nods, taking the white glitter into his hands. He inspects the box first, turning it over and over again, holding it up against the light, smelling it.
“Do you need to do a police inspection on the box? It’s just glitter.”
“Shut up. I was just checking if it was okay to use.”
“It’s obviously okay to use if I’m giving it to you. I’ve used it before.”
He rolls his eyes, learning down. He sets his hands on both sides of your face, angling your face to inspect you this time.
“You’re short.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
“Do you always have to give me attitude?”
“Pretty much.”
“Sit on the counter. It’ll be easier for me to do if we’re closer to the same level.”
You brace your palms against the counter, trying to push yourself onto the counter. You clearly misestimated how tall the counter was because you barely hit the back of the top, stumbling in the air.
“Okay, Humpty Dumpty. Let me help you.”
He reaches down, securing his hands around your waist to lift you up to the counter. You can feel your cheeks burning at the sensation, unable to look him in the eyes.
Right. Because it was getting easier, because he was becoming your friend. But there were still moments like this. Ones where you can feel your cheeks burning, your heart pounding, your fingers shaking.
You hate that he still makes you feel this way.
“Okay, widen your stance.”
“What?”
“Open your legs.”
“Ew. You’re so vulgar, Eren.”
“Well, I said to widen your stance and you gave me that stupid look on your face. It’s your fault.”
You roll your eyes, parting your legs. He steps in between the space, leaning close to your face with the glitter still in his hands.
“So, the eyelids and collarbones?”
“Yeah. You can just use your fingers. You wash your hands after you pee, right?”
“Of course not.”
“What?”
“It’s better for the environment. If I just wait until I have to poop, I can just save water by washing my hands once. You should try it.” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“As if. Girls don’t poop.”
“Yes, they do.”
“No, they don’t.”
“There’s no way girls don’t poop.”
“Ask your mom. Or Mikasa. They’ll tell you the same thing.”
“Okay, stop fucking around. We’re running late.”
“You started it with your stupid toilet humor.”
“Shut up. Your attitude is going to kill me one day.”
“That’s a promise, Yeager.”
He rolls his eyes, a small smile spread across his face as he dips his thumb into the glitter. He cups the side of your face and you flutter your eyes shut, his fingers gentle against your eyes. You can hear him laughing and you squint your eyes, glaring at him as you open them.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing Y/N. You’re just blushing, that’s all.” he responds, his tone mocking.
“Did you do this just to prove a point? It looks like finger painting, my ass.”
“Close your eyes. I’m not done yet.”
You shut your eyes again, Eren sliding the last bit of glitter along your eyes. You open your eyes to find him staring at you, his eyes wide.
“What did you do? Don’t tell me there’s glitter on my forehead.”
“No, it just looks pretty, that’s all.”
You look down, focusing on his hands as he dips into the glitter again. Stupid fucking hands and voice and smell and hair and soft cheeks. You can literally feel your heartbeat all the way in your stomach and he’s barely even touching you.
He uses his hands to tilt your face up, lightly pressing the glitter against the exposed parts of your neck. You feel your body shiver, instantly remembering the last time you and Eren were like this. Pressed up in the bathroom, with him kissing your neck. He presses his hand to your shoulder, his eyes washing over in concern at you shivering.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, sorry. Got a weird sense of deja vu, that’s all.”
He nods, finishing off the last of the glitter. When he’s done, he locks his hands across your waist again, lightly setting you back down on the counter as you both stand there. You’re both staring at each other, neither one of you talking first.
Right. Because what are you supposed to say after that? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking of your lips on my neck, my bad.
The doorbell rings and Eren gives you a soft smile before squeezing your shoulder and leaving. You can hear Hitch in the doorway and you try to ignore the way your entire body is steaming.
-
“What are you even supposed to be, Marco?”
“I’m a space cowboy, Y/N!”
“You’re holding a glittery gun and wearing a flannel. You look like a kid who got lost at Party City and picked the closest thing you could find. You don’t even have a cowboy hat.”
“Ignore her, Marco. I think you look great.”
You watch Marco’s cheeks turn a bright pink, awkwardly stuttering to respond to Jean. Great. They’re going to do this whole oblivious idiots thing all night.
Marco slides into the front as you and Jean walk to the other side, unlocking the car.
“Ignore her, Marco. I think you look great.” you say, mocking Jean’s high pitched voice.
He rolls his eyes, lightly shoving you as you settle into the seat behind him. They’re both talking animatedly, forgetting you were even sitting in the back. You unlock your phone, playing Wordscapes as they go on in the background.
-
Eren’s eyes were trained on your figure, as Jean and Marco were spinning you around on the dance floor with them for a better part of the last forty-five minutes. He’s been waiting, staring at you, anticipating when you’ll look at him.
You’re driving him crazy. Today, especially. Soft glitters, a willowy white dress, that stupid flowery perfume you wore during the concert. He even likes the stupid halo you have on your head.
He wants to touch you. Press his hands against yours, drag you out and leave with you so he was the only one who could see you like this, your stupid eyes glittering in the light.
He hates that you can still make him feel this way.
He sees you leave, waving off Jean and Marco who were still left on the dance floor. Marco’s wearing your halo and you have the glittery gun Marco was holding.
He’s still watching you. Shamelessly. You weave around people talking, wait to walk forward so you don’t get in the way of pictures, compliment strangers on their costumes.
“What are you staring at?”
“Nothing, Hitch.”
She’s been annoyed for a better part of the last hour, not that he’s been paying much attention to it. Marlowe still hasn’t shown up.
He doesn’t mind the guy. He doesn’t quite understand why Marlowe and Hitch have to play these games - circling around each other, making each other jealous, making up. He figures a part of it is the chase, but he’s always found that part the most agonizing. He’d catch you if he could. He’s been waiting long enough. He’d make you feel good right here and right now.
He watches you leave the room, leaving the heat of the room to the patio outside.
“Mind if I leave? Just call me when he’s here, okay?”
Hitch nods and Eren basically bolts out the door, ready to follow you where you went. But before he can, Jean all but falls right off the dance floor, piled on the floor in front of him. He can see Marco’s hand under him, dragging them both up by their arms. He can tell Jean’s already too far gone and that he has to deal with this first. Then you.
-
Your feet hurt. Like a bitch. You made the wrong choice of wearing your Doc Martens to the party. You had figured you wouldn’t be moving much, just sticking to the walls and talking to whoever you knew there. But no, of course Jean’s nervous ass had to drag you onto the dance floor with Marco, the three of you spinning in circles.
You had made your safe escape, sitting outside on the patio. You had been watching the wind whistle through the trees in the dead of night, watching the lights in the pool change colors. They had been changing every minute - switching from purple, to red, to green. There were a few stars glittering out, barely sparkling in the sky.
“Anyone sitting here?”
You look up to find a guy with black hair and pale green eyes kneeling down, crossing his legs next to yours.
“No. Well you are, now.”
He smiles, the two of you sitting in silence. You watch people swerve around the pool, girls holding hands, people leaning against the chairs, everyone nursing drinks in their hands.
“I’ve never seen you around here.”
“Yeah. I don’t really come to these things, I just came here with my friend Jean.”
He nods, leaning down to feel the temperature of the water.
“Do you want to play twenty questions?”
You hike your knees against your chest, tangling your fingers together across.
“Sure.”
“Your name is…?”
“Y/N. Yours?”
“Marlowe.”
Right. Hitch’s Marlowe. The guy she was trying to make jealous, the reason Eren was seeing her and not you. Well, not exactly. He said you two were just a mistake but you could have convinced him if she wasn’t in the picture. Semantics. He taps your shoulder and you forget that it’s your turn.
“You play a sport, Marlowe?”
“Water Polo.”
You nod, lightly turning your head to the side. This is wrong. Surely Hitch wouldn’t be the happiest that you were sitting with Marlowe and not her. You can hear the party getting louder behind you and you swear you can hear her screaming in there somewhere.
“Seeing anyone, Y/N?”
“Uh, no. You?”
“Not exactly, Y/N.”
“I have this friend, I think you’d like her. Her name is-”
“Hitch?”
You pause, swallowing as you turn your face to look at him. He’s sitting way too close, an all-knowing look plastered on his face.
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for the suggestion. I’m okay, for now. It’s your turn to ask.”
“Um, okay. Why don’t you want to see Hitch?”
“Because I’m talking to you.”
He untangles his legs and stands up, holding out his hand for you to follow. You press your hand into his and he pulls you up, not letting go of your hand as the two of you stand. The party is getting even louder, the sound of voices drowning out the sound of the music. You’re positive you can hear her now.
“My turn. Do you know a guy named Eren? Plays soccer, green eyes?”
“Uh, no. Never heard of him.”
He nods, squinting his eyes at you. He must know Eren’s your roommate. Maybe he’s found out their together and he’s trying to get you to admit it. You let go of his hand, the two of you standing awkwardly by the pool.
You can’t really tell what he’s getting at, but every part of him irks you out. He’s perfect for Hitch.
“My turn, Marlowe. Are we done now?”
“That’s barely even twenty. But fine, one more question.”
You teeter on the balls of your feet, ready to take off the second he asks his stupid question. He turns to the side, eyeing the window, before asking.
“When was the last time someone kissed you?”
Before you can respond, Marlowe crashes into the pool, with Eren suddenly standing at your side. Eren just pushed Marlowe into the fucking pool. You can hear the sound of footsteps behind you - Hitch, Jean, and Marco at your sides.
Jean and Marco - well wasted beyond their minds - swing their arms around you, slurring as they ask you if you’re okay. Hitch on the other hand is pissed. At Eren.
“What the hell is your problem, Eren?”
“Him, Hitch. He was pissing me off.”
“This wasn’t what I meant when I asked you for help with this Eren. And your stupid roommate wasn’t helping the case either.”
You feel your eyes widen, as you make eye contact with Hitch, awkwardly crossing your arms across each other. You turn back to Jean, who still isn’t paying attention, instead playing rock paper scissors with Marco on the floor.
“You want to be with Marlowe so bad, Hitch? Go ahead and join him.”
He leans over, lightly pushing Hitch into the pool where Marlowe was still watching. He turns to you and ou can tell he’s pissed - that stupid vein on his forehead is showing again. But not in the good way.
“We’re leaving, Y/N.”
He grabs the edge of your wrist, dragging you towards the door as you shake on his hand.
“I drove here with Marco and Jean, Eren. And they’re way too drunk to drive home now.”
You both turn back, leaning over Marco and Jean. Jean’s way too out of it, but Marco looks up, smiling at the two of you.
“You guys are so cute. I love your Anakin and Padme costume.”
Right. Because he took your halo and you took the glittery gun because he kept hitting Jean with it. Eren turns to you, shaking your hand again.
“Armin will come get them. You and I are leaving. Now.”
“But how will he even find them? And what about Marco’s car?”
Eren turns around fully, stopping in the center of the door. He’s pissed, at you now, and you can lightly hear Marlowe and Hitch arguing in the background.
“You can hear them right? Knowing them, they’re going to walk up in a few seconds and start arguing with you and me. And if he says some shit again, I’m going to do worse than just push him into a fucking pool. You and I are leaving.”
He tangles his fingers around your wrist again, his touch still gentle, as the two of you file out of the party, making it back to the apartment.
-
Eren doesn’t say anything to you as you walk to the car, when you drive home, or even when you stare at him from the confines of your kitchen. He can tell by the look in your eyes that you’re waiting. For an explanation.
But he can’t do that can he? Tell you that the reason he pushed Marlowe in the pull and argued with Hitch is because he can’t stand the thought of him being with you? He can see the entire scene in his head, like he has been for the past hour, his anger burning every time he does.
“Jean, get the fuck up. You too, Marco.”
They both stand up, half leaning on each other. Totally gone.
“Eren. Marlowe’s here.”
He turns to find Hitch at his side, her face scrunched up in anger. Eren waves off Marco and Jean, pushing them towards the kitchen where (he hopes) they’ll find water and sober up a little. There’s no way he’s letting them drive you home, that’s for sure.
“Where?”
“With your stupid roommate outside. What is she doing?”
Eren turns his neck to find you, where he was just about to join you, sitting by the side of the pool. He can see Marlowe sitting next to you, leaning way too close for his liking. He turns back around, pressing his hands against Hitch’s shoulders.
“Get him to leave. Now.”
“How the hell am I supposed to do that?”
He drags Hitch out by the arm, the two of them leaning their necks so they can hear what you and Marlowe are talking about.
“Seeing anyone, Y/N?”
That’s enough. Eren moves forward, not exactly sure what he’s going to do, but Hitch stops him, pulling him back by the wrist.
“What are you doing, Hitch?”
Hitch digs her fingers into Eren’s wrist, turning to glare at him.
“What the fuck is she doing?”
“He asked her the question, Hitch. Shut the fuck up.”
He’s getting angrier. He can feel it - burning hot, red anger. Because why the fuck is Marlowe talking to you? Asking you if you’re alone? Why are you talking to him when you know he’s here? And why the fuck is Hitch pissed at you like Marlowe’s not the one all over you right now? Don’t you know he’s been waiting for that dance you promised him all night?
“Not exactly, Y/N.”
“I have this friend I think you’d like. Her name is-”
“Hitch?”
He turns back, his turn to glare at Hitch.
“See, Hitch. It’s fucking Marlowe. Now go and stop him.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to stop him? And I have no interest in chasing him.”
“Get mad. Argue and then kiss and makeup. I don’t give a fuck. Just get him to stop fucking talking to her. Now.”
“I already told you. I’m not chasing him.”
“This isn’t fucking about you. Do something now or I’ll call the deal off now. I’ve already done more than enough and you can’t do one thing for me?”
“Why do you even care?”
He turns his neck again, to find you and Marlowe standing, his hand in yours. He can’t stand it. Your hand in his. Because he doesn’t deserve you. No one does. Because he can’t treat you right and Eren can. He’d praise the ground you walk on if you let him.
He hears the last question and he can’t take it anymore.
“When was the last time you were kissed?”
So he does the only thing he can think of. Push Marlowe in the pool. Drag you out of the party, where Hitch and Marlowe and Jean or Marco or anyone can’t talk to you. See you. He hates it. Being possessive, getting jealous. He knows you’re not his. But he can’t fucking stand it. It makes his skin fucking burn thinking of an asshole like Marlowe even touching you, let alone kissing you.
“Earth to Ren?”
He looks back up to find you staring at him, awkwardly brushing your hands against your forearms. Right. Because you’re still waiting for a fucking answer and he can’t tell you. Tell you that the thought of another man touching you drives him crazy, that the only person who could touch you right, make you feel good was him.
“You’re doing that thing again. I can see the steam coming off of your head.”
He deflates, leaning against the counter as he watches you. You’re moving from the side, pressing the glass of water in your hand to the dispenser in the kitchen. It’s pissing him off even more. The thought of someone seeing you like this - bedhead in the morning, focused when you’re doing your makeup, half asleep on the couch. He can’t fucking stand it.
“So. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Okay, Darth Vader. No need to growl at me.”
Fuck. Everything is pissing him off. Everything.
“Let’s think about something else, yeah? We don’t have to talk about it just….stop being so pissy.”
You’re at his side, circling the glass of water in your hand.
“Fine. The answer to the question. What was it?”
“What question, Ren?”
“The one Marlowe asked you. Before I pushed him in the pool.”
When was the last time you were kissed? In the bathroom, when Eren had his lips pressed to your neck.
“A real kiss, Y/N.”
Eren Yeager, mind reader.
“Oh. Um. A while ago, maybe a year? It was back when I was dating Floch.”
Eren turns his neck, his eyes flashing at you as you look at him. He looks less angry, his eyes more concerned than murderous like they were a few seconds ago.
“I don’t even think I can remember. I don’t know - he never really liked that stuff. Affection, compliments, all that.”
“Did you ask him to? Do that stuff?”
“At first, yeah. But he never did.”
Now he’s even more pissed. Because an asshole wanting to kiss you, him doing it all wrong is infuriating enough. But the fact that you had to ask someone to do it? He’d literally drop on his fucking knees if you gave him the chance and you had to ask someone for it?
Eren does the only thing he can. The only thing he knows how to do. He wraps his arms around you, tucking your face against his neck as he holds you.
It was either this or kissing you, full on like he wanted to. But he can’t really do that. So hugging it is. He hears you murmur against his shoulder, your arms pressing against his back.
“S’okay Eren. What are you so mad about?”
“You said we didn’t have to talk about it. And no. It’s not.”
“We don’t. But I think this is less about whatever happened and more about whatever just-”
He tightens his grip on you, the pressure of his arms silencing you.
“I’m mad because you should be kissed. Often. And by someone who knows how. Like they can’t get enough of you, like you’re the air they breathe, like you’re inventing kissing just by putting your lips together.”
Shit. He said too much.
You stand in silence, staring at him as he finishes talking. Oh he messed up big time.
He watches the smile spread across your face, your eyes still in the dim light of the kitchen. Stupid fucking glitter. He’s going to go into the bathroom and throw it out.
“Didn’t realize you cared so much, Ren.”
He doesn’t respond.
“Why do you?”
“Why do I what?”
“Care so much, Eren?”
You watch him constrict his fists again, his jaw clenched.
“Selfish reasons.”
You walk up to the counter where he’s leaning over, lacing your arm through his. You push your hands into his fists, forcing him to stop clenching his hands so hard. You can tell his anger is dissipating, his shoulders slowly tensing as you touch him.
“Selfish reasons?”
“I don’t want to see you unhappy or anything. You’re like...my best friend right now. Is it so weird that I want you to be happy?”
You smile, leaning your head against his shoulder. Fucking idiot.
“No, Ren. It’s not weird.”
You both stand like that for a while, your head pressed against his shoulder. He’s still tense, his heart pounding against your ear.
“So I say all this nice shit to you and you have nothing to say back?”
“Nope.”
“Nothing at all.”
You shake your head, watching him begrudingly smile at you as you two smile In the kitchen. You stand there for a while, the anger, awkwardness, wearing off. It’s just you two, standing in the light of your kitchen.
“You promised me a dance. You never even gave me one, Ren.”
“I’m not riding up on you, Y/N.”
“I’m heartbroken.”
You both laugh and Eren leans over, grabbing your phone from the side. He puts a song on - I Won’t Dance by Fred Astaire - and holds his hands out. You lean forward, knotting your hands behind his back as he presses his hands to your waist.
“You know Fred Astaire, Ren?”
“Old timey shit. My parents love it.”
You tangle your hands behind his neck, the two of you dancing in the dim light of your kitchen.
You hate this. That you want to lick all his wounds, hold him till his anger goes away. That you want to dance like this in the kitchen with him, all the time.
He hates this. That it’s this easy for you to fix it all for him. For you to make it better. That he wants to hold you, make you feel good every night.
Do you love each other?
-
next part linked here
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#haha...hahahahhahahahha#roommate eren#roommate eren x reader#eren#eren jaeger#eren fluff#eren jaeger fluff#eren x you#eren x y/n#eren x reader#eren jaeger x you#eren jaeger x reader#eren jaeger x y/n#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#aot x you#aot x reader#aot x y/n#aot#snk x you#snk x reader#snk x y/n#snk#seeingivywrites!#read more break
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This is literally Eren’s personality I’m gonna throw up.
Nobody:
Eren flirting:
#maybe roommate Eren..or best friend Eren. he’s so geeky. my geek. i love him. his mine i want i want.#the loml.#eren smut#eren#attack on titan eren#eren jeager x reader#eren aot#eren yeager#eren fluff
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Ice Sculpture date: Reader x Jean Fluff Part 1
Ya'll something came over me this morning and I busted this out for absolutely no reason.
**This has turned into an unexpected mini series. Check out chapter two here.
If you like this, be sure to check out my original character x Jean fic on A03 here
Pairings: reader x Jean
Summary: A year after graduating college in Trost, many of your friends have moved away, but you remained. Your new roommate, Sasha and her friend Connie, introduced you to their friend group. When group plans go awry, you find yourself alone with Jean.
Warnings: none, this all v cute fluff, a self-indulgence
Word count: ~3,400
You were supposed to leave the apartment 10 minutes ago. You always forgot how long it took to layer up with how cold Trost got in the middle of winter. As soon as you lace your winter boots up, you run out the front door and penguin-walk to Jean and Marco's apartment. It was only a few blocks south of where you and Sasha lived, but since it was -20 Fahrenheit, it seemed like an eternity.
It's frigid that the insides of your nose freeze within about five seconds of being outside. Your teeth chatter and eyes burn. This does nothing to help your nerves. You are going to see the ice sculptures made by local artists with a new group of friends you had only met a month ago.
Three months prior, your best friend and roommate, Historia, decided to move to the coast with her girlfriend, Ymir. Your reaction was mixed. You and Historia were two peas in a pod since you met during freshmen year orientation and you did everything together – English classes, the college newspaper, intramural volleyball team, and a few parties. When Historia started dating Ymir junior year, you were a little concerned by Ymir's abrasive personality, but she started to grow on you and she helped Historia become a little more assertive. Ymir had always wanted to move to the coast, so when she finally secured an apartment, it didn't surprise you that Historia sat you down to break the news that she was going with her, leaving you alone in the two-bedroom apartment.
You were happy for the couple. This was Ymir's dream and Historia was excited to explore somewhere new with the love of her life. And yet, there is a tiny bit of maybe not resentment, but you do feel abandoned. This completed the mass exodus of all your friends moving out of Trost. With Historia and Ymir gone, you really don't have anyone.
Thankfully, they refused to road trip to their new home until they helped you find a roommate. It didn't take nearly as much time as you expected, which admittedly disappointed you. After asking around for a few weeks, you found out that Sasha Braus was looking for a place. You knew who she was since you had gone to the same college, but you'd never had a conversation with her. All you knew about Sasha was that she started an archery club at school that apparently was still going strong after graduation. It was an easy decision for Sasha to move in with you. When you met up at the coffee shop down the street, she was incredibly bubbly and kind.
Rooming together was going nearly seamless – although you did have to label all your food in the fridge, lest Sasha get the munchies and eat everything. Soon enough you got to know her friend from school, Connie Springer, who you recognized from the soccer team. He had pretty much taken residence on the couch in the living room, and you didn't even mind. It was nice to have a living space full of laughter – and Connie's snoring.
Sasha and Connie invited you to join their friend group at weekly bar trivia. It was a large group – you'd never hung out with so many people at one time, but with how extroverted Sasha and Connie were, it wasn't a surprise. You could barely keep track of who was who for a while, but after nearly a month of hanging out with them, you think you got it down. Sasha, Connie, Marco and Jean were tight in college. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin had grown up together in Shiganshina and went to a different college in Trost. Eren had met Reiner and Bertholt at the gym. Annie had grown up with Reiner and Bertholt. You weren't exactly sure how they all merged together, but they all hung out together pretty regularly now.
You groan in relief as you approached Jean and Marco's apartment – a beacon of warmth in the frigid, dark night. Your nerves disappear, replaced by yearning for heat. This is the first time you are hanging out with the group without Sasha and the first time outside of bar trivia. It was Jean's idea to go see the ice sculptures. He was an art major in college and knew a couple of the artists. Sasha had a date with this new guy, Nicolo tonight, but urged you to go without her.
You run up to the entryway and ring the apartment buzzer, hoping that it actually works because you realized you don't have Jean or Marco's number. The door clicks, thankfully, and a heatwave washes over you as you open the door and climb the stairs to apartment 313. Or was it 315? You knock on the door only once before it opens to reveal Jean in an old college t-shirt and sweatpants with a hole in the right knee. He isn't wearing shoes. You didn't fully realize how tall this man was until you had to practically crane your neck up to look at him.
“Hey,” Jean says your name. He runs his fingers through his ash-brown hair. “Shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't have your number and couldn't tell you – everyone canceled for tonight. I texted Sasha for your number but she didn't answer.”
Your stomach drops a little. Did you come over here for nothing? You had actually been looking forward to seeing ice sculptures, especially since it was over the college's winter break – it wouldn't be as crowded with students as it usually was. At least that's what you heard, you had never actually gone to see them before. Historia didn't usually last more than 10 minutes in the cold.
“Oh,” you breath, still recovering from the cold. “I guess that means it's going well with Nicolo then.”
“Yeah,” Jean laughs, “If there's any way to Sasha's heart, it's food, and with the way that guy cooks, I think he's in it for life.”
“So where is everyone tonight?” You ask, stalling for a little more time inside. Jean leans against the door frame and counts off.
“Annie invited Armin to go to her father's for the holidays, so I guess they're getting serious. Reiner and Bertholt are sick. Marco got called in to work to cover for someone. Connie won't tell me what he's doing tonight, but I'm pretty sure he's going over to Hitch's for a booty call. And once everyone else canceled, so did Eren and Mikasa.”
“Ah,” you respond, not really knowing what to say now. You don't know Jean well enough to continue the conversation, but you really don't want to go back home. It's only six o'clock, but since it's already pitch black out, you know you won't do anything except rot on the couch all night. For once, you had plans on the weekend and were looking forward to it. You take a step back and point down the hallway. “Welp, I guess I'll - “
“Unless?” Jean interrupts you and rises an eyebrow. His hazel eyes bore into you. Shit, he's really cute. “I mean, you did come over here and you're already bundled up. We could go?” He asks, seemingly unsure of himself.
“Oh, yeah that would be great!” The words tumble out of your mouth before you fully realize you just agreed to a night alone with Jean. “I did make the perilous journey after all.”
“It is cold as fuck and you are very brave.” Jean smiles and rolls his eyes. He takes a step back and motions for you to enter his apartment. “C'mon in, I'll change quick and I can drive us over.”
~
You tense up sitting in the passenger seat of Jean's small, beater car, but as the car warms, so does your conversation. You learn that Jean is an only child and had grown up in Trost. In his art major, he focused on drawing and painting, and was currently teaching art classes at a nonprofit specializing in teaching kids from low-income neighborhoods. He tells you about how his mom drove him crazy, but he still wears the thick, royal blue mittens she had knitted for him. You give him a refresher of how you became roommates with Sasha, how all of your friends from Trost had moved away over the course of the year following graduation.
Once you arrive, you and Jean walk over the to the entrance to pay for tickets, but someone so bundled up you couldn't make out a single feature waves you in.
“For you my man, it's free! Enjoy your date!” You look over to Jean and wait for him to correct the man. Jean's cheeks flush pink, either from the bitter cold or the embarrassing mistake his friend made.
“Ah, sorry about that,” Jean says and bites his lower lip. “That's Floch, he's . . .a bit of an idiot. I know him from the nonprofit, he teaches about once a week. Pretty sure that's all he does besides live off his rich parent's money.”
“Ha, that's okay,” you answer and looked around for any sort of distraction from the awkward interaction. The stars above you shine with a brilliance you'd never seen before. “Wow.” You point up. “I didn't realize how bright the stars could be away from the city.”
“Yeah,” Jean perks up. “It's my favorite part about coming out here.” You both approach the first sculpture, a series of waves imitating the ocean. Dark blue lights underneath light it up. “Brrr, but this cold is not! Actually, I'll be right back.” You don't look behind you to see where Jean wanders off to because you are memorized by the ice wave sculpture.
It reminds you of Historia and Ymir and their new home. The first week she moved, Historia sent you a picture of them at the beach. She said once it warmed up in a few months, they were going to take surfing lessons, no doubt Ymir's idea. An ache grows in your heart, missing your best friend. You are proud of how adventurous she had become since meeting Ymir.
“Hot toddy?” Jean reappears and hands a steaming mug to you.
“Ohhh,” you moan as the mug instantly warms right through your mittens. “This is perfect, thank you.” You hold the drink up to your face, letting it defrost your nose. You breath in the mix of cinnamon and brandy.
“You like this one?” Jean nods at the icy waves.
“Yeah, it reminds of Historia and Ymir since they're living so close to the ocean now. I miss them even though I'm happy for them,” you confess.
“Good for them though, getting out of here.” He take a long sip of his hot toddy. “I've been in Trost my whole life.”
“Have you thought about moving somewhere else?”
“I have, but I don't know if I could ever leave my mom. She's got my step-dad now, but still. Plus, I think I'd really have to make it in the art world to have the money to get out of here. That nonprofit job isn't exactly paying me much.” He gazes at the sculpture, lost in thought.
“Ah, so you're a mama's boy at heart?” You tease and smirk.
“Hey now, nothing wrong with that,” Jean defends himself and tears his eyes away from the sculpture to smile at you.
The two of you continue on, losing yourselves in the towering ice and the glowing pink, blue and green lights mimicking the Northern Lights. You are lost in conversation as well. You discover you are both voracious readers and are discussing a fantasy series you had both recently read when Jean halts.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” He furrows his brows and you follow his accusing eyes to see Eren and Mikasa hand in hand across the field of snow viewing a sculpture in the shape of several large, intricate snow flakes. “They canceled on me and showed up anyway?? Typical Jaeger,” Jean growled.
You bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing. You aren't sure exactly why Eren and Jean are constantly on each other's nerves, but it was one of the first things you noticed when they argued at trivia night over which actor had won an Oscar two years in a row. Turns out, both of their answers were wrong. You had to admit that you found their rivalry a little comical.
“Would you have wanted to go with them anyway?” You press and give a soft laugh. Eren and Mikasa are all over each other all the time, so it's hard to imagine Jean would enjoy three-wheeling with them.
“No,” Jean glowers, “but still, it's about the principle!”
“Alright, let's stay away from them then and have our own fun,” you concede and place your hand on Jean's bicep to guide him away from their direction. You run your mitten-covered hand down the rest of his arm and were about to pull away, but Jean grabs your hand and pulls you closer. Your heart skips a beat.
“You uh, look cold.” He shrugs and looks at the ground. He loosens his hand, as if to let you know that you can let go if you want. Instead, you squeeze his hand and press even closer to his tall frame.
“I am absolutely freezing,” you agree. It's like you had a brain aneurysm, you are never this bold. But you are, in fact, freezing, and Jean is warm. He clears his throat and peers over at you, eyes just barely visible with his knit cap covering his eyebrows.
“So what about you? What are you doing in Trost?”
“Ugh, that's a backstory.”
“I'm all ears.” You launch into it, how you majored in English with great hopes of becoming a best-selling novelist, but the past few months you were stuck in the worst case of writer's block. Unable to find a job remotely close to what you wanted to do, you ended up working at the front desk of a pediatric medical clinic – and barely writing anything.
“You know when you have this great idea, but you realize that in order to make it happen, you actually have to sit down and you know, create?” You gesticulate with your now empty mug in hand, your other hand still engulfed by Jean's.
“Yeah, I know the feeling all too well.” He nods. “I get that way about my sketches and painting sometimes too. It's like the thought of failure has such a choke hold on me that I can't even get started.”
“Exactly! God, the burden we creatives put on ourselves,” you laugh and roll your eyes at your own mild pretentiousness. “I didn't think I'd still be living in Trost this long.”
The two of you finish the ice sculpture route and arrive back where you started. The night was going fast, too fast. You are so long in conversation that you don't see Eren and Mikasa arrive at the exit at the same time.
“Jean?? Is that you?” Shit. You don't mind Eren that much, though he's a little intense for you, and Mikasa is positively the coolest person you know, but fielding the tension between Jean and Eren is the last thing you want to do. Jean drops your hand and with it, a little piece of your heart. Eren and Mikasa approach you.
“Oh, hey,” Eren says your name and a shit-eating grin grows on his face. “Didn't realize you two were out here.”
“Hi,” Mikasa greets you by name with a shy smile.
Jean crosses his arms.
“Yeah, because unlike some people, I did what I said I'd do.” You chuckle at Jean's awkward wording.
“Technically I did too. I said I wasn't going with you, not that I wouldn't go at all,” Eren smirks and his pine-green eyes dance with mischief. Mikasa rolls her eyes and tuggs on his hand.
“C'mon Eren, let's go. Nice to see you two!” Mikasa waves at you and Jean and steers Eren away before a battle could ensue.
“God he gets on my nerves,” Jean says mostly to himself and balls up his hands in fists as the two of you walk to his car. Once inside, you check your phone to see a message from Sasha.
Omg Mikasa just told me you and Jean went to the ice sculptures together?? Just the two of you?? How cute!! I didn't even think about it but you two are PERFECT together. Come home immediately and tell me how it went.
Her message is followed with about a million heart eye emojis.
“Jesus Christ,” you mutter and shove your phone in your pocket. Although you thoroughly enjoyed your night with Jean and don't want it to end, you also don't want anyone to get the wrong idea, yourself included. Getting your hopes up had bit you in the ass one too many times.
“Everything good?” Jean asks as he steers out of the parking lot.
“Ah, I don't know. . .” you trail off, unsure how to respond. “I guess Mikasa must have just told Sasha that she ran into us here and she's demanding answers.”
“Which means everyone is going to know in about an hour. Connie's going to be blowing up my phone any minute.” Jean throws his head back in frustration before quickly returning his eyes to the road.
“I can try to correct her, that we're just friends,” you quickly try to do damage control.
“Oh, uh, I didn't mean that. Let her think whatever she wants. Or I mean, uh,” he stutters and blushes. “She's your roommate, I didn't mean to tell you what to tell her.”
“No, that's fine. I'll just ignore her and she can make whatever she wants out of it,” you give a nervous laugh.
The car ride back to the city center is much more quiet and tense. It seems to you that Jean didn't want the night to end either. Despite the tension, you arrive back to your neighborhood much quicker than you expect.
“I can drop you off at your apartment so you don't have to walk in cold again,” Jean offers.
“Sure, thanks.”
He pulls up in front of your apartment building and you unbuckle and pause to look at Jean. Fuck it.
“Do you want to come in? Sasha's probably spending the night with Nicolo.”
“Oh, uh,” Jean pauses and your heart plummets to your stomach.
“It's okay, you don't have to.” You shuffle to open the car door, but Jean stops you.
“I'd love to, actually.”
Keeping with the theme of warm drinks, you make two hot chocolates with peppermint schnapps. Both of your warm outdoor clothing is piled in a heap on the chair by the front door. You and Jean curl up on the couch and move closer and closer to each other as you talk about everything and anything – your favorite movies, your various college activities (you learn Jean was also on the soccer team with Connie and Marco), all the different places you'd like to visit, the frustrations of trying to write or draw.
“Maybe if I wrote something really great I could move somewhere else someday,” you muse. “But until then, Trost it is.”
Jean leans in and lifts his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. You freeze and gaze into his glowing hazel eyes.
“I'm glad you're here,” he breaths your name. An uncontrollable smile spreads across your face.
“Me too.” Warmth from both flirting with Jean and the schnapps spreads throughout your body. He leans in even closer.
“Can I . . .” he trails off. You don't need words to know what he's asking. You answer by surging forward and pressing your lips to his. You both taste like peppermint and dark chocolate. You pull back and giggle. A bold night indeed.
“So, coffee shop tomorrow?” He asks. You learn that you both frequented the coffee shop down the street but were rarely there at the same time. You nod.
“You bring your sketches, I'll bring my notebook,” you promise to hold each other to creating as much as possible.
“It's a date.” Jean looks at you and grins into his hot chocolate mug.
Turns out you have lots to tell Sasha.
#jean kirstein#jean kirstein fluff#reader x jean kirstein#jean kirstein x reader#date night#aot#attack on titan#sasha braus#eren jaeger#mikasa ackerman#modern au#snk#shingeki no kyojin#fluff#writing#brave-and-gentle#friendship#roommates#reader x Jean#Jean x reader#historia reiss#ymir#connie springer
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What’s a Jumpscare?
Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Geto Suguru x f!reader
Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Genre/Theme: Roommates to lovers type beat; non-sorcery au
Content warning: fluff, pure smut, oral (f and m.receiving), explicit sexual content, squirting, overstimulation, language, angst, Suguru is crass with his words, kinda jealous and possessive Suguru.
Summary: What’s the rational thing to do in the middle of the night when you’re scared shitless after watching a horror movie? It’s to call your flatmate Suguru to your room to sleep next to you. Being the nice roommate that he is, he’s more than happy to provide you with a solid distraction.
Author's Note: Porn with a plot but you really have to squint your eyes to find the plot honestly. I have no justification for this hehe. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy it!
~ Eren’s Birdie
Song Dedication: Freak by Lana Del Rey
“What am I? A child? Fear doesn't exist in this household!”
.
.
.
That’s the embarrassing thing about overestimating yourself. One moment you’re boasting about your ability to endure jumpscares without flinching and the next, you’re sealing the ends of your blanket with your feet, hoping it’d protect you from imaginary ghosts.
As you bite your nails, waiting for your flatmate to answer the call, you feel embarrassed at how much of a wuss you’re gonna seem in front of him after talking big about not being one of the scaredy cats.
“Hello?” you hear his confused voice on the other end, laced with a hint of concern at you calling him in the middle of the night.
“Hi, Sugu,” you speak timidly, knowing you’re going to have to butter him up to get him to comply with your request. But before you can continue, you hear a mocking chuckle on the other end.
“Awww… look who’s scared shitless after bragging about being a horror movie connoisseur,” he teases.
“Pleaseee, come to my room,” you plead and you’re surprised when he agrees quickly before hanging up. But the emotion is soon replaced with dread when you realise that this is one of his rare golden opportunities to tease the hell out of you and Geto Suguru isn’t one to let it slide.
When he arrives, he doesn’t knock but slides your room door slowly so that the hinges creak eerily as it opens. His form almost blending into the dark hallway behind him, highlighted by your room’s awfully bright light.
“Suguru please, this is exactly why I did not want to call you here,” you complain as he smiles slyly, walking in before closing the door behind him.
“Then what did you call me here for?”
“Sleep here tonight,” you request, patting the space next to you on your bed.
“At least have the decency to ask me out on a date first.”
“That’s not– you know that’s not how I mean it!” you sigh.
“Be for real, this is all just a ruse to get me in your bed,” he snorts, leaning against the door with his hands crossed at his chest.
You roll your eyes and want to talk back at him but you remember that your scared ass doesn’t really have the upper hand here. You sigh again, “I’ll hold your pinky finger max… just so that I know I’m not alone in the room.”
“Holding hands? That’s like third base for you, babe,” he walks closer till he’s standing at the edge of the bed.
You pout at him and he bends forward in front of you, resting his palms on the edge of the mattress. “Did your dear friend not reply?” he teases you about your fuck buddy Marco but you decide not to react.
“Tease me all you want but please just get in!” you groan.
“Just sleep with the lights on,” he says dryly.
“I can’t fall asleep with the lights on but I’m too anxious to turn them off,” you reason, leaning forward to touch his bicep gently, hoping he’d be kind and understanding of your predicament.
“Just cover your head with the blanket?” He climbs into bed, sitting on the edge.
“Too suffocating. If you’ll be here, I’ll feel safe and sound,” you pout, trying hard not to smile at how he’s already complying to your request.
“I sleep naked.”
You suck in a breath to weigh your options. You know he’s just teasing but oh well, a distraction wouldn’t hurt, “I’ll allow shirtless.”
He takes his t-shirt off in an instant, throwing it to the floor before settling in next to you.
“Never miss a chance to make me uncomfortable…” you mumble as you try your best not to ogle at his abs.
“We both know you enjoy this, princess,” he smiles insincerely and you roll your eyes at him before turning to the side to reach the light switch near the bedside. Just as you turn the lights off, you feel a hand grab one of your ankles tightly and yank it roughly, causing you to let out a shriek as your body stumbles onto the mattress.
You hear Suguru laugh next to you as you turn to see his faint silhouette illuminated by the soft moonlight peeping through the window.
“Who does that!?” you scold him as you slap his chest repeatedly.
“Me!” he grabs your wrists to stop your attacks and instead wraps his arms around you. He falls back onto the mattress, caging you snugly into his arms so that your torso is almost on top of his.
“Suguru, I doubt this is a comfortable position to sleep in,” you wriggle into his arms as you free yourself to fall to the side, creating distance between your bodies as promised, holding only his index finger to maintain contact. A few minutes pass by in silence before you hear a sudden draft escaping the gaps of the window, making an eerie sound, causing you to hiss out a quiet ‘fuck’ as your hand readjusts to intertwine your fingers with his.
“If all you wanted to do was make noises instead of sleep, I could’ve done a much better job than a horror film,” he speaks softly as he untangles his fingers from yours.
You turn your head to look at his face, eyes searching his in the darkness, “Suguru, please stop teas–”
“Shhh, I’m just trying to get comfortable,” he interrupts and you feel his body turn to the side and towards you. His hand snakes around your waist as he pulls you into his warmth till your back is against his chest. This makes you giggle as you place your hand over his on your waist, fingers interlacing once again.
“Is this safe enough, madam?” His voice is playful but the way his hot breath fans the crook of your neck is far from funny. It’s as if the fear that had preoccupied your mind had suddenly started to lift, leaving behind a sudden sense of awareness. You suddenly feel hyper aware of the position you’re currently in with your attractive, not to mention shirtless, roommate.
You simply hum instead of speaking, not wanting your voice to betray you and expose the way you’re secretly enjoying the way his body feels against yours. For a second, you wonder how this type of stuff only happens in cheesy fictional movies or steamy romance novels. But on second thought, it might as well just be a well orchestrated happenstance – two adults willing to compromise on a rational way of solving things; and instead acting on their unbridled desire for each other, testing how far they can bend till one of them breaks.
That can never be you. You’ve taken an L as it is for one night, so if someone was going to break, it had to be him. You readjust your body to ‘get comfortable’, moving your hips slightly back till your ass is resting snugly against his crotch. However, when you don't get a reaction out of him, you abandon the idea just as quickly, creating some distance once again.
“Good night, Suguru,” you speak softly as you close your eyes, absentmindedly rubbing soft circles on the back of his hand while trying to understand how his brain works–you could’ve sworn the tension between you and him was real, so why was he acting so aloof?
You don't have to wonder much when you feel him move closer till you feel his bulge poke at your ass, causing you to halt your movement. Instead, Suguru's hand frees from under yours and dips under your t-shirt, fingers caressing dangerously close to your breasts. When you press your hips further back against him, he lets out a dry chuckle.
“Thought you were only going to hold a finger,” he mocks as his nose nudges behind your ear.
“This is a far better distraction,” you hum as you lift your hand up, moving it behind till your fingers are burrowed in his free raven locks.
“Is that what I am to you? Just a distraction?” his hand cups your boobs, fondling with the soft flesh, earning a satisfactory hum from you.
“No, you’re my dear roomie too,” you tease as you twist your head to look back at him, but your effort is in vain due to the darkness.
“Ahh, right! Just a roomie… that you keep on trying to seduce?”
“Whatever do you mean?” you pout as your hand moves to caress his cheek. He pinches your hardened nipple and it causes you to let out a quiet gasp.
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about… roaming around the house without a bra… your nipples poking through the awfully thin fabric of your t-shirts,” his words make the heat rush to your cheeks as you feel his lips graze your neck and you close your eyes at the feeling.
“You roam around shirtless too.”
“That’s different.”
“Sure… seems to me that you’re the pervert here. C-can’t I be comfortable at my own place?” you tease but your voice comes out breathless as your brain is stuck on the way Suguru is playing with your nipples.
“Hmm… I'm trying to do just that… get you more comfortable,” Suguru bites your shoulder lightly as his hand moves down to dip into your sweatpants.
“Such a considerate roomie–mmh,” you swallow your words when he rubs your mound from over your underwear, “... what would I do without you, Sugu.”
You grab his hair to pull his face away from your shoulder before twisting your body further to kiss him on the lips. Your lips miss the mark and land on the corner of his mouth. He lets out a snort at this and brings his hand up to squeeze your cheeks before kissing you right.
His tongue slides into your mouth, swirling against your own and alternating it with soft tugs at your bottom lip. Suguru’s such a good kisser that you feel lightheaded when he breaks the kiss to allow you both catch your breaths. You can make out his outline as he moves away from you, making his way to your corner of the bed to turn the light on.
“Too bright!” you cover an arm over your eyes, scrunching your face at the sudden change.
“I want to see you,” he states calmly as he straddles you, fingers sliding the fabric of your t-shirt up to expose your belly.
“The lamp has enough light,” you stop his movement and motion him to move towards the bedside table.
He rolls his eyes but obeys as he makes his way to switch the bright tube light with the soft orange light of the lamp, “You could’ve easily fallen asleep in this dim light… you just wanted a reason to get me in your bed, huh?”
“Well, I really was scared,” you pout, making him laugh as he turns back to look at you.
“Yeah rig–” his words get caught in his throat when his eyes land on your bare chest.
“Would you rather go back to your room?” you tilt your head slightly as you toss your t-shirt to the ground before tracing your fingers gently over your rock-hard nipples. If Suguru had any other thoughts in his mind before that moment, the slate is wiped completely clean when he sees the way your dainty fingers dance over your skin, luring him in like a siren to a sailor.
“That ship sailed the moment you asked me to get in your bed,” he leans over you till you’re lying flat on your back and wets his lips as his eyes shamelessly fixate on your exposed tits. Without wasting another second, he dips his head down to suck on one tit while his fingers play with the other.
Your hands find their way to his hair as you let out soft hums, closing your eyes to enjoy the way his tongue feels on your sensitive skin.
He moves further down, leaving wet smooches over your belly but his movements come to a halt when his eyes land on your belly button.
“Is this new?” He asks, causing you to open your eyes and you find him eyeing the tiny ring piercing that's barely visible unless seen up close.
You shake your head, “You just never got to see it.”
“I knew you were a freak,” he leans down to kiss over it, “those innocent, doe eyes might trick others but they never fooled me.”
“But isn't that why you’re so hard, baby? Cause you like them freaky?” You shoot back as you hook one leg around his waist to tug the waistband of his sweats down with your toes. He grabs your ankle, peeling it away from him and pinning it down to the bed.
He simply gives you a devilish smile before leaning down to graze the silver metal piercing with his teeth, pulling at it playfully. In that moment, your body's reaction is beyond your control as you let out a whimper, goosebumps covering the entire expanse of your skin.
You bring your hands up to your chest to play with your nipples, back arching when his wet tongue licks a strip down your belly. He hooks his fingers into your waistband before pulling them down your legs along with your underwear.
“Fucking hell Suguru,” you moan when you feel two fingers opening your puffy folds, dragging over the surface to spread your wet juices around.
“Yes, princess?” He looks up to meet your eyes and he can feel the blood rushing to his dick, making it harder than ever. He thinks he might as well cum by just looking at your already fucked out expressions while your fingers greedily play with your tits.
“I want your tongue… please eat me out,” your request is almost a breathy whisper.
“Hmm, what do I get in return?” He wonders, fingers rubbing soft circles over your clit.
“I'll suck you off–”
“No.”
“Please… fuck– what then?” Your voice grows impatient as rut your hips up to feel more of his fingers.
“I want you to stop calling that fucker over whenever you're horny,” his voice is so stern that it actually makes you focus on what he's saying.
Your eyebrows furrow at this as you stop playing with yourself to sit up on your elbows to get a better look at his face, “Who? Marco? I don't underst–”
“What's so hard to understand, dummy? I'm fucking sick of hearing you scream someone else’s name at nights when I know I could fuck you much better than that guy,” Suguru's tone is calm, yet he has to grit his teeth to keep his cool.
He didn't have to ask – in your mind it was already a given – what could possibly be better than having your unbelievably attractive flatmate make you his. No other men could ever compare moving forward.
Yet you want to push his buttons, like you always do, “hmm… I don’t know about that, Sugu. He’s really good with his tongue...”
“Is that the game you really wanna play?” He groans as he spreads your thighs open, nestling himself between your legs. He dips his head down till it is just inches away from your core, “Well, then… be my fucking guest.”
You bite your lip to keep yourself from grinning too hard – it was so fucking easy to rile him up. His tongue is quick to latch onto your pussy, causing you to let out a soft moan at the sudden contact.
Your body melts back down onto the mattress as you bring your hands down to play with his hair. He licks a strip up to your clit before moving back down to dip his tongue into your hole. As he begins to alter the pressure of his tongue, your thighs twitch involuntarily.
“Oh god– Suguru, right ther– nghh,” you push his head further down to bury his face against you completely. Suguru smiles at you as he lifts his head up slightly before letting the spit on his tongue trickle down to your hole and you can feel your insides clutching around nothing.
You lean your head back and shut your eyes tight when you feel his fingers spread his spit around your entrance. He takes you by surprise when he suddenly shoves two of his thick fingers into your cunt. The moan that escapes your lips next is vile to say the least and you bring your hand up to muffle it.
“No… don’t act shy now, baby. Let me hear your pretty voice,” he growls and you feel his other hand come up to yank yours away from your mouth as he begins fucking you with his fingers.
You nod your head desperately with your eyes still closed and whimper at his words, but it doesn’t take long before you’re cussing out lewd profanities when his tongue plays with your clit at the same time he begins to pump his fingers inside you faster.
“Suguru, y-you’re so good,” you stutter out praises as you feel your mind numbing at the sensation, getting closer to your orgasm. Your back arches off the bed when you feel him suck on your bud, adding a third finger into your hole.
“Oh my— yesyesyes,” you cry as your body twitches under him. You’re so close, you can almost feel yourself breaking. You bring your shaky hand to his hair again as you look down to find his eyes fixed on your face. Your eyebrows knit, the intensity of his gaze making you feel vulnerable and exposed.
“Sugu– I’m so clo–” you halt mid-sentence when he pulls away completely, causing your build-up to drop suddenly. You whine as you hook your legs around his torso, “Suguru! What the fuck?”
“Aww, sorry baby. Were you about to cum?” His tone is condescending. He holds up his hand to examine the wet coat of your juices glistening on his fingers, “Maybe you can call Marco over to finish the job?”
“Suguru, stop being so cruel,” you huff as you tug at his hand to pull him closer.
“You’re the cruel one here… expecting me to share what’s mine,” he moves up to kiss you on the lips and your moans are muffled by his tongue when his fingers part your folds once again, making your hips twitch.
“Please, I was only teasing. You’re the only one I want,” you beg, out of breath when he releases your lips.
“Is that so?” his hot breath fans your face. You nod desperately, clawing at his forearm to get him to move his hand once again.
“So, no more Marco? You’ll break all contact with that fucker?” he asks but it’s a rhetorical question anyway.
“Only you, Suguru,” you agree nonetheless as you lean your head up to kiss him once again.
“That’s a good girl. See how easy it was?” he smirks as his head moves down to your neck to suck on your skin roughly. Your brain goes dumb when he finds your sweet spot, you bring your hands to his shoulders all the while chanting his name when his fingers start fucking into you again.
You squirm under him as his bodyweight restricts your movement. When he feels your pussy flutter around his fingers, he’s quick to make his way back down to stimulate your clit with his tongue. You root your feet into the mattress, your hips thrusting up as your muscles twitch again.
“Keep going, fuck–Suguru” you cry as you grip his hair with one hand while your other hand pinches one of your nipples. The pressure in your core releases as soon as it builds when your orgasm breaks through you. Your legs fall limply to the sides but your abdomen still twitches as Suguru continues to lap at your juices.
You feel way too sensitive as his ruthless tongue and fingers begin to overstimulate you. You yank at his hair to warn him but he doesn’t budge.
“Suguru, too much–ahh!” your body twitches violently and he presses his other hand over your lower belly to keep you from moving too much. As you shiver under his touch, you can feel the coil building up in your stomach – it happens before you even realise it and you squirt all over his face.
You cry his name out loud, tears escaping your eyes as your body falls limp and you feel as if you’ve lost all strength. Suguru pulls his fingers out as he sits up between your legs, sucking his fingers clean before pushing the loose strands of his hair back.
Your chest heaves and you see the way his face shines due to the wetness. You bring a foot up to his chest, pushing him till he’s leaning back slightly, “You’re the freak here, Suguru.”
“Never said I wasn’t,” he smiles as he rests his palms onto the mattress, leaning back and spreading his legs open. You sit up and lean forward as you hook your hands into the waistband of his pants to pull them down along with his boxers. He lifts his hips up slightly and his dick springs free when you pull the garments down, discarding them to the side.
You lean down closer to his dick, your pussy fluttering when you see how perfect his size is – length as well as girth wise. Suguru has the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen and it looks even prettier with the precum leaking from the slit. You move your thumb over the angry tip, sliding the foreskin further down.
You smile at him innocently before focusing back down as your tongue licks over the head, wetting it further with your saliva. Suguru feels like he’s about to lose his shit at this, his dick throbbing painfully in your hands.
A guttural groan escapes his lips when he feels you take his length into your mouth till his tip is hitting the back of your throat. Your left hand moves under to fondle his balls while your right hand gently claws at his thigh. He runs a hand through your hair when you start bobbing your head over his cock.
“Shit– take it in, princess,” his voice strains as he grabs your hair to push your head further down. You let out a muffled groan when you gag slightly.
You pick up your pace and he doesn't know if it's because he's been hard for an awfully long time or if you’re clouding his senses, taking over every thought but he comes undone quickly.
When you rub the base tightly while letting his tip hit the back of your throat in a repeated motion, you feel his dick twitch.
“Fuc– baby, I'm cumming,” he moans as he tries to warn you, tugging at your hair gently but you maintain a steady rhythm, making him shoot his hot liquid in your mouth.
You slow down to pull away from his dick and look up to find Suguru leaning back, resting his weight on his elbows. His eyebrows furrow when he sees the way a string of saliva connects his dick to your glistening lips. He closes his eyes shut as his head falls back limply – he thinks it's impossible to get hard so quickly again after a good head but his body is hell-bent on proving him wrong.
You wipe your lips with the back of your hand as you sit up and giggle at his state. He opens one eye to look at you lazily, chest still heaving lightly.
“You're welcome, Suguru. That is what a real considerate roomie does,” you tease as you straddle his lap, leaning forward to leave soft kisses over his pecs. Your arms rest on his shoulders as you move up to his neck, biting and sucking on his skin.
“Mmh… you’re so fucking cute,” Suguru huffs as he brings his hand up to your face, guiding you to look up at him, “fuck...the things I want to do to you.”
“What do you want to do to me?” You question as you take his thumb in your mouth, sucking on it lightly before releasing it.
“This,” he says as he wraps his arm around your waist to scoot you up till your chest is flush against his, pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss is hungry, passionate and desperate and your arms wrap around his neck and you moan into his mouth when you feel two of Suguru's fingers glide over your folds to part them.
“... and this,” he mumbles between kisses and you feel him graze his tip near your entrance. He pauses briefly as he pulls back from the kiss, “Where do you keep the condoms?”
You shake your head no, “birth control,” you mumble before pulling him back in to continue your kiss. You're pretty sure you feel his lips curve up in a smile briefly before he shoves his tongue into your mouth.
His hand is quick to reposition his dick, lining it up at your entrance as his other hand wraps around your waist to lift your hips up slightly.
Your pussy flutters in excitement when his tip enters your hole. He breaks the kiss to look down where your bodies meet, placing both his hands firmly on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he guides your body down onto him slowly.
You whimper as you feel his fat cock impale your walls, resting your forehead against his shoulder while your hands caress his biceps. When he's filled you up to the hilt, he holds you steady, letting you adjust to his size.
“Sugu–”
“And this,” he whispers as he lifts your hips up with ease before slamming you down onto his cock in one swift motion. Your nails dig into his skin at this and you scream his name, your brain going numb when his pace fastens.
“Yes yes, right th– ahh,” your voice is slurry as you bite into the skin of his shoulder to keep yourself from losing your sanity completely– as if that were still an option.
“S-stop squeezing me so tight,” he sighs when your walls twitch around him. You bury your face into his neck, whimpering at the sensation as his tip kisses the right spot each time he shoves deep into you.
Suguru loosens his grip around your waist as he slows down and it's only then that you realise just how tight his hold was. But the thought slips your mind just as quickly as it arrives when he lies you down till your back is on the mattress with him on top of you.
With his dick still buried deep inside you, he readjusts your legs to hook them over his shoulders and folding you in half as he towers over you.
His lips meet yours as he pins your arms down to your sides, intertwining his fingers with yours. It's a simple act but it has you feeling butterflies in your stomach.
“I want you…” he bites your lower lip lightly before releasing it, “...so bad...”
You hum into the kiss at his sweet nothings, not really being able to focus on the words he's spilling between kisses. You feel lightheaded – the way he kisses you softly is soon contrasted by the rough thrusts of his hips as he begins to pound into you mercilessly.
You cry against his lips as tears escape your eyes at how deliciously he's filling you up. Suguru kisses your cheek hastily before moving down to your neck to decorate your skin with his markings.
“Oh–mmph– god, Suguru,” you sob as he picks up his pace. You feel your mind going blank with each thrust – in that moment, you have nothing in your thoughts expect for Suguru and his cock.
Your moans get a pitch higher when he brings a hand down to play with your clit. It's the tipping point for you when his fingers and dick work in unison to bring you closer to your release.
You feel your pussy flutter around his length and he groans into your neck once again. He knows he won't last much long so he maintains a steady rhythm, rubbing your clit in a way that's eliciting a chain of lewd moans from you.
Your body convulses violently, his body weight on top of yours holds you in place as you reach your orgasm. Within seconds, you hear him hiss cusses into your ear as his dick twitches inside you and his cum paints your walls. Your vision gets blurry and you close your eyes, your breathing gets ragged as your body melts onto the bed and you’re pretty sure you would've passed out if not for Suguru’s sloppy thrusts coming to a gradual stop. He slides your legs down his shoulders gently and you let them slump to the sides.
“Baby, you good?” His breath fans your face and you look at him with half-lidded eyes. You let out a tired chuckle at the concerned look on his face. You simply nod at him as you slowly bring your hands up to hook them around his neck, playing with the hair on his nape.
“Let's get you cleaned up,” he kisses your nose, “then you can rest all you want.”
You pull him in for a lazy kiss and he obliges, wanting to relish in this moment a little bit longer.
~
You don't remember how you fell asleep but when you wake up to the almost blaring sound of your doorbell ringing, you find your body impossibly closer to his. Your face is almost buried in his chest with your arms and legs tangled with his, caging you into his whole being.
You pull away softly, wondering how you even managed to fall asleep in such an awkward position. You lean forward to kiss his forehead but move back in a haste when you hear the bell ring again, quietly getting out of the bed.
Putting on your pants and t-shirt, you make your way out of your room and to the main door.
Your surprise is evident on your face when you spot Marco standing in front of you.
“Hey…” you greet him, already feeling a weird sense of embarrassment creeping over you.
“Did I wake you up? I thought you’d be awake by now,” he checks his phone for the time.
“No… I slept in a bit since I couldn’t fall asleep after watching that scary film,” you confess, your brain working in full force to come up with the right words to break the news to him.
He's still standing in the doorway since you haven't really invited him in so he tries his best to do some damage control, “Are you upset about yesterday? I'm sorry for kinda bailing on you last night.”
Right, if Marco had been there for movie night, you wouldn't have called Suguru when you felt alone and scared. But it didn't matter much as what had happened since was way more intense than your fuck buddy missing yet another movie night.
Before you have a chance to speak, you hear a voice from behind, “Oh, no worries, you weren't missed.”
You turn to see Suguru walking towards you shirtless, in only his sweats. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Suguru to be so unwelcoming towards Marco but what surprised the guy were the hickeys on your flatmate's chest on full display.
And if Marco wasn't smart enough to connect the pieces together already, Suguru snaking an arm over your waist from behind and leaving a quick peck on your cheek, all while wishing the guy a ‘good morning’ was enough to make everything crystal clear.
You give Suguru a side eye as you chuckle nervously, “Suguru, please give us a minute.”
“Ok, don’t take too long, baby,” he slaps your ass playfully but his eyes stay on Marco, almost taunting him with a cocky smile.
When Suguru walls back inside, you scratch the back of your nape awkwardly, “Sooo…”
“It’s fine, whatever. I just wish you’d told me about it before I embarrassed myself like this,” Marco shoots back, trying not to sound bitter but failing miserably.
“I’m so sorry. You have nothing to be embarrassed about… I'm the one who should be embarrassed,” you ramble as you observe his face for a change of expressions, “Would you like to come in?”
“Doubt that's a good idea,” his tone is cold.
“Right… are we cool? No hard feelings?” you ask.
“Nah, we were just fucking, that’s all– just don’t expect me to keep on being your friend now.”
“Oh, okay, I wasn't going to… guess this is it then?” you speak just as formally, getting slightly annoyed at his entitled tone.
“Yeah,” he lets out a dry chuckle before curtly nodding and leaving.
You close the door and swiftly walk to where Suguru is sitting on the sofa. He's grinning at you, extending an arm out towards you.
“Don't even try! I'm so embarrassed…” you scold him, “I wanted to break it to him gently!”
He simply shrugs before motioning you to get closer to him. You roll your eyes but nonetheless obey as you move closer till you’re standing in front of him.
You cover your face with your hands, your muffled voice speaking, “That almost felt like an awkward breakup that 12 year olds have after calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend for a week…”
“Good… you can't be having two boyfriends at once,” he snorts as he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer, resting his forehead against your belly.
You grab him by the hair to pull his face away gently to look him in the eyes, “Wait, you want us to date?”
He nods as he chuckles at your surprised reaction, “You really are a clueless one. Yes, I want us to date… besides, I don’t just let random hookups squirt on my face.”
You shove his face away as you groan in embarrassment, “Stopppp.”
“Never. That was the highlight of the night for me– second only to the way your pretty little cunt fluttered around my dick,” he pulls you closer to kiss your belly from over the fabric.
“Suguru, you have such a dirty mouth,” you push him away but he doesn't bug, further tightening his grip on your waist.
“It’s cause you like it dirty,” he pulls you down till you’re straddling his lap. You giggle when his hands move under your t-shirt to flick your already hardened nipples.
You hold onto his shoulders as you move closer to close the gap between your bodies as you kiss him.
“So?” He moves away to kiss your cheek, “Go out…” another peck on your nose, “...on a date…” next on your jaw, “...with me?” before kissing your forehead lovingly, “Please?”
You pull back to ponder over the question for a moment and the familiar butterflies reappear.
“Okay,” you nod, blushing as he nuzzles his face into your neck, “I'd like that a lot.”
“Okay… celebratory sex.” he exclaims as he bites your skin, making it tingle.
“No! I’m really sore!” you complain.
“Just one round, I'll be gentle,” he presses.
“Have some mercy on your poor girlfriend!” you coo as you lean back.
“Not if you talk like that… you’re only gonna make me hard,” he chuckles as he rubs his thumb over your bottom lip.
“Suguru!” you pout. He laughs as he leans forward to give you a quick peck.
“Ok fine… then, breakfast?” he asks and you nod. You hook your legs around his waist as he gets up with ease, making his way to the kitchen. You giggle when he squeezes your ass as he walks.
“Don't think you’re getting off that easily. I'm only letting you relax now so that I can fuck you later after our date tonight,” he places you onto to kitchen counter.
“Ah, so considerate!” you roll your eyes before kissing his cheek, your fingers tracing the outline of his chest gently. Your eyes meet and you stare at each other in silence. You crinkle your face at how cheesy the moment seems, splaying your palm over his face to break his intense gaze.
“Fuck– are you sure… at least just let me eat you out… nothing else,” he groans and you feel his dick poke against your inner thigh.
“Suguru!” You complain but you break into a fit of laughter at how adorable he seems like this, a side you hadn’t seen before today.
“Okay, okay, fine!” He rolls his eyes before cupping your face, “one kiss and then I'm gonna make you something delicious.”
“Sure,” you laugh before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another heart-fluttering kiss.
~fin~
#erensbirdie#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsukaisen x reader#jjk#geto x reader#geto suguru#geto x you#geto smut#jjk geto#jujutsu geto
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˗ˏˋ guilty pleasures ˎˊ˗
☆ content: eren jaeger x female reader, modern au, reader cheats on her loser boyfriend, dirty talk, praise, pet names, masturbation, pussy job, just filth, written very fast my apologies, mentions of alcohol, explicit language, explicit sexual content, reader discretion advised 18+
☆ word count: ~4.2k
☆ a/n: just a warm-up that got out of hand
Your boyfriend sucks. That isn’t an opinion, either. It’s a fact. The sky is blue; what goes up will always come back down; your boyfriend is and will forever be a jackass.
At least, according to your friends, Eren in particular. Sometimes according to you, too—let’s not leave that part out, it’s important.
Countless times, your boyfriend had driven you to wit’s end and back because yes, you always took him back. You aren’t the type to leave a kicked puppy out in the rain or a groveling man lying on your doorstep. He’d come crawling back, looking all lovesick and apologetic, and you’re ashamed to admit it hasn’t failed him yet.
Listen, Eren is just your friend. He doesn’t know the ins and outs of your relationship any more than the next guy. What he knows for sure is that your boyfriend generally sucks as a human being, and he knows you know it, too.
And it’s about time he does something about it.
Tonight’s as good a night as ever to make a move. Eren’s roommate, Armin, insists on hosting a game night every other week-ish to ‘get the gang together,’ as he likes to say. But game nights are hard. No one likes to learn rules. So game nights soon devolved into movie nights, which turned into drinking nights after no one could agree on a movie.
That’s the plan for this evening: drinking the beer Jean brought along with a few leftover seltzers from the last time they got together, and spending some time with you. Alone.
You walked into the apartment huffing and puffing, pissed over whatever your boyfriend did or didn’t do. You’ve spent most of the night wallowing in the displeasure, trying to hide it, but it’s not working; Eren can tell you’re furiously texting Sasha every little detail despite sitting across from one another.
If you were to ask any of your friends, they’d say they previously believed you and Eren would date. You had that energy about you—still do, frankly. But then you met your boyfriend and you’ve been seeing each other ever since. On and off, of course.
Eren dated other people, too. And sure, he liked them, but that’s all. Finding happiness with something (or someone) is difficult when he constantly sees the greener grass on the other side.
He used to believe it was a timing thing, the reason you never hooked up. It made sense back then. But now, Eren knows it’s not a timing thing because he’s single and you can dump your boyfriend any time you want—if that’s what you want.
Eren can pry. He can be forthright and ask what you’re texting Sasha about. But that’d get him nowhere; you’d undoubtedly reply, ‘Girl stuff,’ and let the subject die there.
He noticed you don’t talk about your boyfriend problems when he’s around. Not that he expects you to. He would have written it off by now if he hadn’t heard you confiding in Armin about it. Jean and Connie, too. How frustrating it is that you never tell the one genuinely curious person. The one who wants to know and wants to show you how much better things could be, with him.
So Eren does just that. He catches you at the right moment, once it’s just the two of you. Armin was in bed and Sasha already left, taking Jean and Connie with her. The only guests remaining are you and Mikasa—she’s been sitting heavy-eyed on the couch for the last twenty minutes and would probably be out cold in the next ten.
Then there’s you, all squirmy beside him.
“Are you cold?” Eren asks. He knows you’re not, but he also knows you’d never answer the more direct ‘Are you okay?’
“I’m fine,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “I’m just—”
“Having a long night?” Eren guesses.
You merely sigh, but it’s weighty enough that it sounds like you’ve been holding it in for a while, like you must’ve needed it.
“That’s one way of putting it.”
It’s vague, but you still feel you said too much.
You fiddle with your fingers, hands resting in your lap. You focus on that rather than the fact that you can no longer bring yourself to meet Eren’s eyes; it’s too much, it makes your insides burn uncomfortably hot.
You can’t deny how Eren makes you feel. Even more, you can’t deny that you came over tonight with him on your mind—the sort of thoughts you shouldn’t have while tangled up with another guy.
“Is there anything I can do,” Eren slides closer to you, “to make your night better?”
Yes, you think. Yes, yes, yes.
You shake your head, gaze fixed on his leg pressing against yours.
“It’s not your problem to fix,” you try to assure, but it lacks any sureness. Instead, it’s demure and… inviting? You almost made it sound like a dare.
“That doesn’t mean I can’t try,” Eren says, always up for a challenge, especially if you’re the prize at the end.
You’re better than this, you tell yourself. You’re above this.
At the same time, you can’t help but think: what would your boyfriend do if the roles were reversed? You’ve argued about his fidelity before—hell, you argued about it hours ago—and you have no more clarity than you did from the start.
Maybe you haven’t been perfect, either. Maybe there were times you should’ve told Eren to cut out the flirting and even times you shouldn’t have reciprocated it. You thought it was harmless then, that you’d never end up exactly where you are now. You also never imagined how invigorating, how right, it would feel.
Eren places his large hand on your thigh, tentatively at first, light despite the guilt weighing down on you. When you don’t stop him, he becomes confident. He slides his hand higher, squeezes you gently. It’s chaste, something that could still pass as friendly if not for the way it made you weak.
I am absolutely not above this.
That’s how you ended up in his bedroom. Eren whispered for Mikasa and when she didn’t respond, he took it as the all-clear—that no one would know if you decided to head somewhere more private. Eren snuck you down the hall, shut the door behind you, and had you to himself, for the first time.
Your heart thrums in your ears. It’s adrenaline, anticipation, a rush you never want to end. You hardly hear him when he asks, “How can I make your night better?” He nears you in a step. “What would you like me to do?”
“I think you know the answer to that,” you murmur. He wants to hear you say it: that you want him. You want his mouth on yours, maybe on your neck, his hands on your chest, smoothing down your hips and between your legs. You don’t give him the satisfaction of it.
You lean into Eren without a word. He moves with you, meeting you halfway. You lead, he follows. You’re the one in the relationship, not him.
You tilt your chin high to meet him. He catches it between his fingers, gently guiding you to him. Your noses brush; your lips don’t, but you’re so, so close. Close enough for your lashes to flutter softly against his cheek, for you to feel every one of his hot breaths as they break over your lips. It’s intoxicating. It’s not enough. But you can’t make yourself seal the fateful gap between you.
“I can’t,” you regretfully stammer. It physically hurts to say the words. You wound the devil sitting atop your shoulder.
Eren doesn’t say anything, only pulls away from you. You don’t feel in control of your hand when it snatches a fistful of his shirt. You keep him there, still as close as before, eyes flitting between his pupils, big and blown, and his lips. He remains frozen, silent. He lets you decide where this would or wouldn’t go.
“I don’t—fuck, I don’t know what do to,” you bemoan. Your head is a spinny, screwed-up mess. Screwed up from forbidden fantasies and raging hormones and the pool of warmth spreading in the depths of your stomach—all from him.
“What do you want to do?” Eren asks in a low voice.
It’s coaxing, cloying, but it’s needful at the same time. It’s a voice you’ve never heard from him, yet it’s familiar. It’s reminiscent of the same need burning inside you, so hot you think it might create a hole, one perhaps only he can fill.
You lick your bottom lip only to find your mouth has gone dry.
Eren nudges the tip of his nose against yours. “I can tell you what I want to do, if that would help.”
He nuzzles lower, beneath your jawline. He doesn’t kiss you there—no, he wouldn’t do that. What he does is worse. It’s teasing. His breath fans over your ear and sends a shudder down your spine. He needs you not only to hear but to feel every word, every dirty thing he has imagined doing with you.
“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he breathes against the side of your face, warming you from the inside out. He clasps his hand over yours, then slips it between your legs. “And I want to watch.”
Eren touches your hand, encouraging you to rub. You feel the heat of your cunt through your clothes, like there’s a fire in your belly. You finally let its flames engulf you and god, burning never felt so damn good.
You’re dizzy, you’re flustered—how could he possibly say that with such calmness? More than anything, you’re dumb to everything except the boy in front of you.
“Can you do that for me?” he asks, smooth and soothing. “I’ll only look. I won’t touch, I promise.”
It’s a lousy excuse for a loophole. Actually, it doesn’t even qualify as a loophole.
Eren leans back, holding your shoulders in his hands. He looks you in the eyes and again, he insists, “No touching.”
Loophole or not, you can’t find it within you to care. You trust him, you think. Either that or your brain short-circuits because you can only repeat back, “No touching,” as you bob your pretty little head.
Eren smiles down at you, runs his knuckles down the side of your face. It’s gentle, it’s praising, it brings—no, it yanks you back to him.
“Lay on the bed,” he says.
You do as you’re told, laying back on your forearms. He tugs your bottoms off with ease and reveals a pair of pale blue panties—a telling color. When you spread your legs for him, he can see how you’ve stained them with your arousal, soaked and ruined after some innocent teasing.
You touch yourself without him having to ask. You trace over the damp patch and play with your clit through the fabric. He sees how easily your panties slip between your folds, how fucking wet you are, and has to stifle a curse.
Eren drops to his knees, nestled between your legs at the foot of the bed. He has a hand on either of your thighs, almost white-knuckling the plush skin.
“Look at that.” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or your pussy. “You like it when I talk to you, huh? When I tell you what to do?”
You whine at the words, rub your clit faster. You want to come.
“So needy. What’s the rush?” Eren tuts. He climbs onto the bed, propping his back against the headboard. “Make yourself comfortable.”
As he says it, his hand travels lower. Dangerously low. It draws your attention to how hard he is, his insistent cock tenting in his sweatpants. He palms over it once, then twice, then grips himself through the fabric. Fuck.
You stare with too much interest. The corner of Eren’s lip curls into a smirk when you have to close your hungry mouth. He’s just as greedy, though, just as riled up as you. Even the touch of his own hand has his arm muscles tightening and twitching.
You crawl over to his side and try to relax into the pillows as best as you can. Your shoulders droop, your knees fall to either side, but there’s a tremble to your hand as it returns between your legs. Your touch remains feather-light, almost a tickle, as you dance a finger along the hem of your underwear. You watch lecherously, with your head lolled to one side as Eren mirrors you—you’re still leading. His thumb dips below his waistband.
This still counts as ‘no touching,’ right?
Eren shoves his hand down his sweatpants. You can’t see it when he takes his cock in his hand, only the outline of him slowly working over his length underneath the fabric.
Your eyes ask the question your lips wouldn’t dare to ask. Eren responds, “You first.” His eyes flicker to your crotch—your panties, more specifically.
Your fingers stutter and pause. You’ve already dipped your toes into the corrupt waters, so you might as well take the full plunge.
You tuck your underwear to the side, pinching them in the crease of your thigh. Your fingers are almost cold against your wet, hot skin and you shiver in response, letting the feeling wreck down your spine. You clench around nothing, whimpering just as helplessly.
“Fuck,” Eren breathes, an incidental hiss.
He pushes his sweatpants and boxers down in one go, and his cock slaps his front. He aches for anything more than his hand, but it’s all he has right now. It’s agonizing how what he needs is so damn close, but out of reach.
He pumps himself faster, tightening his grip around the sensitive tip to mimic your cunt.
He can only catch glimpses of it. Your panties persistently get in his way, and when they aren’t, you’re having to tug them back to the side. Your gasps and moans turn to little grunts, your frustration staving off your orgasm even further.
Eren goes to grab your underwear but stops himself short.
“Take them off,” he tells you, somewhere between a request and a demand. If this is his one chance to be with you, to see you, then he’s going to see all of you.
You listen. Your hand slips from between your legs and a sticky string connecting your fingers to your cunt snaps. You hope Eren didn’t see it, but you’re sure he did based on the impatient sound that comes from the back of his throat. You lift your hips from the bed and shimmy your underwear down your legs. Then you kick them to the floor.
You don’t settle back into the bed before Eren says, “I want to see more of you,” because this still isn’t enough. “C’mere.”
He adjusts you to his liking until you’re in front of him, lying back on your elbows, spread, with your feet caging his hips. It’s a vulnerable position, you admit. One where you’re completely bare and completely on display and there’s no shying away. You may have even found it embarrassing if not for how turned on you are. The urge to come is nagging, simmering for so long that you fear you may boil over and do something you’ll regret later.
“Shit.” Eren’s in awe of the sight before him: your glistening cunt, swollen and practically begging to come, and the dreamy expression on your face. It’s the sexiest you’ve ever looked, and he’s not even sure it’s intentional. Your eyes are as alert as they are moony, as confident as they are flustered; a doe locked in his headlights, willing to eat out of his palm despite her better judgment.
“Spread yourself for me,” he murmurs. You do it with two fingers. “God, look at you.”
So pretty. What a shame it was that such a pretty pussy would go unfucked tonight.
Eren leans back again, this time with a complacent hand tucked behind his head. He spits into his other, then slathers it over his length, unblushing to how your eyes follow every fluid movement.
“Go ahead,” he says, still calmly fisting his cock. “For real this time. Make yourself come for me.”
The encouragement travels straight to your core. You sink your middle finger inside first, then you add another. Your walls pulse, sucking the digits in further. You curve them, drag them in and out, in and out, until you find a pace that has your thighs threatening to snap shut. You pull out of yourself one last time and, with properly wetted fingers, you return to your neglected clit. It only takes a few slick circles before your breath quickens.
“Yeah, just like that—fuck.” Eren feels his cock throb against his palm. He slows, pulling and tightening his grip, still pretending his hand is anywhere near as soft as your pussy. “You’ve listened so well. You deserve to come, don’t you think?”
You moan something incoherent.
“Tell me,” he says, smug and urgent, somehow at once. “Tell me what a good girl you’ve been. That you deserve to come.”
Slippery, unforgiving sounds fill the room, from the both of you, but you’ve already shed any shred of decency you had left. You dipped your toes first, and then you took a fateful dive. But now, the current has stripped away any semblance of control you had—or thought you had.
You’ve become a passenger inside your own body. Every motion feels wild and unpredictable, yet intimately inevitable. It’s a kaleidoscope of feelings and sensations. It’s strange and exhilarating. It’s this raw and primal surrender to only what’s physical and nothing more.
Flowery language aside, you know one thing for sure: as much as you enjoy hearing him talk filth to you; he enjoys hearing you just as much.
“I’m a—ah, I’m your good girl,” you moan shakily. Your skin becomes unbelievably hot, your fingers stuttering, struggling to keep up with your neediness. “I d-deserve to come.”
His good girl.
Eren’s stomach lurches, abdominals tightening. He nearly comes.
What a fucking gift you are. How lucky Eren feels to witness how you get yourself off when no one’s around, how you like to tease yourself—maybe even pretend he’s the one teasing you.
You bring a hand to your chest, gingerly caressing the tips of your fingers along your nipple that pokes through your shirt. You slide the hand over your breast before groping it fully.
“Can I see your tits?” Eren blurts. Once again, there’s no use for dancing around the truth of the matter anymore: you both wanted to get off.
“You first.” You giggle a little, all breathy, then restate, “Take off your shirt.”
Eren smiles at you before stripping, revealing a cute flush creeping up his chest. You stick to your promise, peeling your shirt off and tossing it aside. You skipped putting on a bra this evening because it was supposed to be a quiet night-in with friends, but it worked out pretty well for this, too.
You graze your fingers over the peaks of your breasts, bouncing just so with every rub, rub, rub of your opposite hand. You bite back a harsh gasp, but little hums escape past your teeth, anyway.
Eren’s thighs twitch. He fights the urge to buck his hips, to fuck up into nothing. His pants turn strained, exasperated. He thinks he might be numb to his hand at this point. He could use his spit again, but why should he have to when you’re right there, as desperate as he is?
Your name’s a raspy plea on his tongue. His hands smooth up your legs as he coos, “I need to feel you, baby.” His thumbs stroke your inner thighs, growing extremely close to the apex between them. “Need you to help me come. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”
Eren’s hands wrap around your ankles, pulling a yelp from you as he drags you toward him.
“I won’t put it in,” he promises. You’re so close he can feel the heat of your cunt against the underside of his cock. His hand somehow looks small in comparison as he holds himself at his base. He angles his cock until it’s about as close as it can be without touching you. “Please.”
Your heart pounds against your ribcage, but even more frantically, it pulses between your legs, loud and demanding. It’s as impossible to ignore as the man before you. Hot and horny, with messy hair and pretty pink cheeks and an even prettier cock that leaks at the mere thought of touching you, staring at you like he wishes to devour you whole.
You nod, and Eren doesn’t hesitate to push his cock between your slit. You watch him do it, sitting higher on your elbows. Even with the faintest amount of pressure, your jaw goes slack.
He rocks his hips, gliding his cock through you, up and down, with the ridge of his head nudging your clit. Your skin prickles despite the thin layer of sweat you’ve accumulated.
You raise your hips, dragging your pussy over him, and bring yourself back down to the bed. His cock jolts. You feel it. You repeat the undulating motion again and again, effortlessly, because you can’t recall a time you’ve been wetter. So wet he slips out a time or two. He takes advantage of it once, tapping the tip of his cock against your clit.
Eren gives a low chuckle when your head falls back between your shoulder blades. “What a pretty little mess you are.”
You tilt your hips so he’s back in place, hitting your clit just right, over and over. It doesn’t take long for your legs to shake, swaying like they may give out. He steadies you, resting his hand on the divot of your hip.
“Oh, god—Eren.” Your voice pitches on a broken moan. “I think I’m gonna come.”
His hand curves around your side, his fingers digging into the fat of your ass. He uses the grip to keep you moving, to guide you through it. He barrels you down the hill toward your release, and you can’t stifle a single cry as they spill from you.
“Yeah, that’s it. Let it all out, baby,” Eren encourages, saccharine as always but airless. Though his own release is imminent, he refuses to allow it to happen before yours.
He flattens his fingers against his cock, pressing and adding delicious pressure. He proves how heavy, how hard, he is for you—how much better he’d feel inside you. The mere thought of it makes you groan. You push back on him instinctively, arching your back as you teeter on the edge of your undoing.
“So fucking hot,” Eren grunts, thrusting as if he were truly fucking you. He meets you each time you bear down on him, his pelvis slapping against you as his hips rise from the bed. “So fucking hot.”
That familiar feeling fizzes in your stomach, swarmy and radiating through you. It sparks in the tips of your fingers, even in your toes, and then your orgasm rips through you. Your entire being tenses, fists knotting themselves into the sheets and eyes screwing shut. The pleasure is white-hot and leaves you with stars behind your eyelids.
Eren urges you to open your eyes. “Keep ‘em on me while you come.”
You try your best; you don’t let your eyes roll back. What’s hidden behind your fluttering lashes is pornographic. Your soaked thighs—his soaked thighs. You don’t even want to think about the blankets below you.
You curse and cry his name. You look ruined, with eyebrows pinched and pulled together, your mouth hanging open like you want to scream out your orgasm. Eren crudely imagines how wrecked you’d look, how much better you’d feel, if you were coming with him inside you.
Your knees snap together, thighs sealing shut around his cock. He continues to fuck between them, against your pulsing, oversensitive pussy. Your body is spent and shaking, and he is right there with you. The sinewy muscles of his chest flex as he builds toward his climax.
“God, fuck,” Eren pants. “I’m gonna come, baby. Gonna come all over this pussy.”
When he does, it’s with his head thrown back and a beautiful groan. His body is flush with yours, his cock spilling across your legs. Come drips down the creases of your thighs, smearing with the last few pumps as he draws out every drop. He can’t believe he could feel so good from something as pathetic as grinding.
Your body lies limp, sprawling across the bed with your legs still draped over him. You wait for some post-horny clarity to smack you across the face, but the only slap you feel is the truth: you deserve better. You aren’t going back.
You stay there, waiting for the rise and fall of your chest to settle. One moment, you’re staring at the ceiling, then blink, Eren’s above you, taking your cheek in his hand. His fingers curl around the side of your face before he places his mouth on yours. He’s soft, both how he feels and how he kisses you, with lips slotted perfectly against yours, coaxing them open with his tongue.
You finally let him touch you this way; you kiss him back. You wrap your arms around his neck, and you wish for the moment to stay, just for a little longer.
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AFTER DARK. Armin Arlert (CH. 6) (18+)
☰ pairings: Armin x Reader, Slight Eren x Reader
┌─ ✮⭒｡ story summary: Armin was tired of being seen as an innocent, goody-two-shoes, little flower boy. Instead, he wanted to be seen in a more romantic and…sexual light. You just couldn’t turn down a sweet boy like him, so you agreed to hone his charms and teach him special…skills.
And he turned out to be much more powerful (and hotter) than you'd ever expected.
└─ ✩⭒｡ story #tags: fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, friends w benefits, drama, jealousy, hurt/comfort, manipulative armin, virgin armin, loss of virginity, childhood friends, lots of tension, nerd armin, and then he glows up, love triangles, unrequited love, gaslighting, lots of buildup
☰ CHAPTER SIX. armin's first
┌─ ✮⭒｡ chapter summary: Things get heated. Things get so, so heated.
└─ ✩⭒｡ chapter warnings: smut (p in v sex, fingering), fem bodied reader, loss of virginity, petting, literally most of this is foreplay
wc: 9.7k
☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter
In the dim of your living room, your eyes could only see him. And right here, on the plush of your couch, your body only knew his.
Armin held you, secured you, and grounded you, strong arms snaked around your waist as you became all too aware of your intermingling bodies. The squish of your thighs against his, the unashamed press of your tits against his chest, the weight of his breaths against your lips…
You could still feel the tingle on your lips where he’d last kissed you, a ghost of his touch.
Above you, the clock ticked louder and louder in your ears, louder than the blood that rushed to muffle your hearing and the pounding of your pulse, a looming reminder that it was late. That you had work in the morning. That you were running out of time.
That you shouldn’t be doing this.
Another sound intruded on you. A voice, his voice, running rampant in the back of your head.
Will your roommate be home soon?
The fact that he’d asked that question…just what did he want?
And on top of that, you had already confirmed that, no, your roommate wasn’t going to be home any time soon. In fact, she wasn’t going to be home at all, meaning you’d have the entire night with him alone, undisturbed.
Sitting here, Armin quietly eyed you, curious and content yet half-lidded and torn by lust. He suddenly silenced your thoughts with a kiss, swooping in hard, teeth clashing, causing you to instinctively grab his face to ease him down.
The kiss oozed of messiness, an exchange of saliva and wet, meshed-together lips that barely held any rhythm. The feeling consumed you fully—the warmth and fervent press of his lips—as you slowly guided him.
Lost in the intensity, you instinctively swiped your tongue against his bottom lip. He jolted, pulling away.
You thought that was so cute of him, seeing him like this. So ironically innocent.
“S—sorry,” he stuttered out, a bashful look on his face.
Your brows furrowed, worried that you had done something wrong. “Did I go too far?”
“No, it’s just….” He tightened his grip on your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “God, I’m so nervous.”
Squeezing your hands on his shoulders, you reassured him, “It’s okay. We can go slow.”
“Okay.”
Armin smiled up at you, so sweetly and boyishly—so contradictory to the thoughts you’d been having about him. But even so, he was still nothing like the little boy you’d known. Not when he was gazing at you with that blush, reddened and far-gone, and that glint of lust—that hunger—in his eyes.
You still couldn’t believe he was here with you. If you’d known you’d be kissing your childhood friend ten years down the line, you’d probably flip out in disbelief.
But he’d matured so much from then. That boy was nothing like the man under you, holding onto you. Nothing like how tempting and alluring and irresistible he looked right now.
His palms flexed around your waist, once, then twice, then dragged up the sides of your torso, slowly, almost mindlessly, then back down. Pressed up like this, chest-to-chest, you could feel the racing of his heart so hard that you felt yourself rattling. And even though his hands had stopped shaking, the fast, repetitive thump inside his chest told you more than anything else ever would.
Sitting in silence, hearts beating out of sync, you let him roam your body like that. Slowly and hesitantly, like he hadn’t quite fully grasped the situation.
"You're a good friend,” he mumbled quietly, no longer meeting your eyes, fixated on where he was touching you instead.
Cheeks heating up at the praise, you shuddered with a laugh that sounded a little too strained and nervous.
You were a good friend? No, he was a good friend. He was the whole reason you wanted to do this in the first place. A good, caring, considerate friend that you would never turn down even if it meant putting your friendship on the line.
“I trust you. I wouldn’t ask anyone else this,” he continued.
Breathing in deep, you cupped his face affectionately. “No, please, you’re so good to me. How can I say no to you?”
His hands stilled, and you could see how his eyes instantly softened. Armin’s right hand fiddled with the hem of your shirt, eyes meeting yours momentarily before darting away.
“Thank you. So…can we keep going?”
Your lips lifted into a small smile, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his eagerness. “Yeah, um. Do you…want to try using tongue now?”
As soon as you’d finished that sentence, you fought down the nervous, embarrassed lump that rose to your throat. It couldn’t get any more straightforward than that.
“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly and nodded.
“Slowly, okay? We’re just gonna ease into it. When I lick your lips, open your mouth a little. And then after that, it’s like…” You swallowed, tensing. “Um, I don’t really know how to explain it. Just try to match me.”
He gazed at you with so much anticipation that you could almost taste it. Sliding your hands back onto his shoulders, you latched onto his lips again.
This time, there wasn’t a rush. Just slow, methodical, and relaxed movement as you relished the softness of his lips. You loved this feeling. Soft and sweet, like him.
His hands began roaming your body again, starting from the sides of your chest down to the tops of your thighs. His palms slightly brushed the outer parts of your breasts, but it was still nowhere close to where you really wanted him.
You took this as a cue to mimic him, hands gliding down to his biceps where you gave him a light squeeze. Even though you knew he worked out, you were still surprised to feel the dips and tautness of hard muscle. It wasn’t that you forgot, it was that you didn’t normally expect it from Armin, someone usually so nice and mellow.
As you trailed down his stomach, you could feel the defined ridges of his abs under your splayed palms, and you swore you almost moaned. For someone with such a cute face, he had such a strong body.
When your tongue finally soothed over his bottom lip, he parted his lips ever-so-slightly. And the moment you slipped your tongue in, he let out a small noise that was so, so quiet. Your tongues met, warm and wet.
You could tell he was hesitant, but you continued at the same pace, slowly licking into him and swiping your tongue over his. He’d completely stilled, hands etching themselves harder into your waist. As you were letting yourself taste him, something tugged on your heart, weighing heavy.
Because it dawned on you that you were making out with Armin.
Something so intimate and passionate like this could only be reserved for lovers, not for friends.
Armin reluctantly slipped his hands under your shirt. Just right there, right at the threshold of your torso and not any further, like he was testing the waters. He held you there, only tasting. Your breath hitched, startled by the warmth of his fingers, but the flow of the kiss remained the same.
The pressure of his tongue was soothing as it moved against yours, and he was getting the hang of it little by little. And the moment it seemed to click—where it felt like you’d reached the perfect rhythm and the perfect amount of energy—you moaned into his mouth to let him know he was doing good. Thank God he was a fast learner.
Cradling his neck into your arms and threading your fingers into his hair, you rolled your hips into him experimentally, pelvises meeting. You heard him inhale sharply, but he didn’t break the kiss. He only tightened his hold on you, pushing you down slightly as he rolled his hips, matching you.
The friction felt so undeniably good. You knew he felt good, too, because you could feel the area of his crotch stiffen under you.
It was like that for a while, the two of you grinding on each other, so focused on outdoing the other that the kiss wasn’t even a kiss anymore. Just a mix of messy lips and hitched moans and saliva. So much so that you had to wipe away the drool at the corner of his mouth.
You were the first to pull away for air.
“How was it?” he instantly asked, licking his lips. They were swollen, and that gave you the urge to kiss him again.
“Just a little messy. But good. You did good for your first time.” You laughed.
He laughed with you, bringing a thumb to swipe over the corner of your mouth. “Sorry about that.”
Just like that, the two of you shared a cute moment, and you began to think that nothing would change between you—that you two would still be friends and embrace these moments no matter what.
As the atmosphere from your makeout session died down, you were left with one final thought.
What now?
“Hey…” you started. You didn’t even know how to word this. Do you know where this is going? Do you even want to keep going?
You stood up, all too abruptly like you were running on autopilot as your brain tried to catch up with your body, hands detaching from his neck and thighs from his lap. You looked at him warily, wedged between the coffee table and his parted legs.
Armin frantically stood up, too, half hard in his pants as he reached for your forearm. “Something wrong?”
It was late, you remembered again.
But now, in this lapse of judgment, you guessed it didn't matter if you should or shouldn't continue. Not when he was staring at you, pleading with his eyes—with his body. You could almost hear his heart thumping out of his chest.
You wondered if he could hear yours, too.
“Um,” you trailed off, wondering how to save yourself.
Before you had the chance to recollect your thoughts, Armin cut you off. “Sorry, um. I mean, I know it’s late…if that’s what you were going to say. I should probably go. You did say I should only stay for a little bit—”
“No—wait, no.” You pressed a palm to his chest.
Armin subtly tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I thought you had work in the morning?”
“I know, but...” Your eyes trailed down to his crotch, suddenly guilty. “Do you want to stay?”
He regarded you with a look of uncertainty, hands hovering beside your arms like he was about to hold you. “Yeah…?”
“Then…what do you want to do?” It came out in a slight whisper, and you instantly wanted to slap yourself for that question because, one, it was definitely the wrong question. All you wanted was clarity as to whether he knew where this was going, and two, what did you mean by what he wanted to do?
You could feel his eyes burning into your head, but yours were averted to where the neckline of his tee dipped down to reveal his collarbone.
He gulped. “What do I want to do?” he parroted, breathing in a steady breath. “Um…what do you mean?”
You pursed your lips, knowing you were going to sound desperate. “Was kissing…all you wanted to do?”
He looked visibly taken aback now, lashes fluttering as his eyes flitted over your form in surprise.
“No…”
“Then what?”
Maybe you really were desperate as you stood here so close to him, pushing your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache.
“Well, I think—I think you know,” he mumbled shamefully. “Don’t make me say it.”
“Say it. Please? I just want to be sure.”
He pursed his lips, too, while contemplating, flushed a deep pink on his cheeks. “I want us to…go the whole way. I want you.” He cleared his throat. “To teach me.”
For a long moment, you were convinced you stopped breathing.
It was so loud now. Your heartbeat was so unbearably loud, reverberating and bursting through your ears. A breathless silence filled the room.
He didn't waver. Not once. He only gazed straight into your eyes—straight through you, irises deep and blue and overwhelming and darkened by lust. He'd lost that innocent, bright shine long ago.
The beat of your heart only quickened, even quicker than what it already was.
Was this it? Was this the next step? Was this it after all of those needy kisses and flimsy touches and longing, vulnerable stares?
Nevertheless, a sense of relief washed over you. You wanted this, too, despite the fact that you were risking something precious to you. Something irreversible.
Not that'd you stop now.
And then you were onto him, capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss. He returned it just as quickly, rough and intimate. His hands slid to your waist and held you tight against his body while you clung onto him like it was the end of the world.
Licking his lips teasingly, you murmured in between the kiss, “My room.”
He broke away a little, muttering a little “okay” before you cut him off by pressing your mouth back onto his.
When you pulled away, he surprised you with his next words.
“Can I carry you?”
Without hesitation, you lightly jumped onto him, and he caught you, carrying you effortlessly in his strong arms. You loved the feeling of his hands on the back of your thighs, firm and warm. He was so surprisingly muscly that you wanted to squeal.
The walk wasn’t far in your small apartment space, and you quickly found yourself being placed gingerly onto your bed and your limbs untangling from his body. He stood there like he didn’t quite know what to do. You scooted back onto your pillows, beckoning him to come closer.
“Get on top of me.” You tugged on the front of his tee. “Like this.”
He stumbled onto your bed, settling in between your legs as his hands braced him up. You tugged him even closer still, and he fell to his forearms.
You looked up at him only to find him blushing, a dark, rosy color tinting the apples of his cheeks, watching you with eager eyes as his chest heaved with heavy breaths.
Heat bubbled in your stomach. “Are you sure you want to do this? Remember, this is…this is for you. This is about how you feel.”
“I’m sure,” he answered quickly.
Then, Armin kissed you for the millionth time tonight, but this time, it was short yet thorough, like he just missed your taste.
“Kiss me on my neck,” you urged, craning your head. “Just don’t leave any marks.”
Armin dipped down instantly, but he stilled for the next second, hesitantly staring at your neck. The conviction finally hit him and his lips met your skin, ticklish and titillating and warm. He peppered slow kisses along the juncture of your neck, leaving one long, suckling kiss—one hard enough to make you feel good but soft enough not to leave a mark. You could tell he was unsure about his movements, so you softly grabbed him by the hair to bring him to a specific spot.
“Right—ah—there. Yeah,” you assured him as he gave another suckling kiss.
“Is this good?” he asked timidly into your skin, and you could feel the tickle of where his lips moved.
You hummed in response. “It’s good. You’re doing good,” you replied, words tumbling out of your mouth in an awkward way.
He pulled away, and his eyes raked over your form, suddenly stopping at your chest. While you should’ve been excited, something else happened. Something like dismay filled his eyes as his brows twitched downwards.
“Is this Eren’s sweater?”
Oh.
“Yeah?” you weakly breathed out, voice pitched a higher octave than you’d like.
His eyes flitted back to your face again, still strewn with an emotion you couldn’t quite place but knew wasn’t good.
“Can I take it off?” he asked, pawing the hem of your sweater. He seemed confident almost, but you knew that the barely discernible, nervous strain in the thrum of his voice gave it all away.
You nodded wordlessly like the air had been punched out of your lungs.
Armin grabbed onto the hem of your sweater with both hands, peeling it off you so slowly that you couldn’t tell if he was teasing you or just simply nervous. Your stomach coiled in anticipation the farther he went, with each inch of skin he revealed. He was so agonizingly slow—or maybe you were so impatient that it felt like time had slowed down—yet the rush of cool air against your torso was instant.
The moment he reached your bra, your heart seemed to beat out of your chest, and you needed to steady your breathing.
He stopped and looked for only a minuscule second, as if he didn’t dare to stare any longer, and picked up the pace, pushing the last of your sweater above your raised arms.
“Pants, too,” you whispered softly.
With shaky hands, Armin obediently worked them off, past the fabric of your panties, all the way down your legs.
He’d seen you in a bikini before, but it was different this time. You were laid out all nicely in front of him, clad in a bra and thin panties. On your bed, for him.
The newfound cold nipped everywhere at your skin, goosebumps prodding up your arms and legs.
“Take my bra off for me.” You said shakily, turning to your side to give him access. “You know how?”
He laughed out what seemed to be a mix of a chuckle and a scoff. “I’m sure it isn’t hard.” His knuckles brushed the skin of your back as he took hold of the straps and unclasped your bra. You could feel his hands shaking against your back. “Easy.”
As he slid it off of you, that heavy feeling in your heart resurfaced, and you began to feel self-conscious.
But it was just Armin, you reminded yourself.
Your upper body was now completely bare to him. The cool of the air swept over your already-hardening nipples.
Armin only stared at you. Didn’t say a word. Just outright ogled you with raw, unfiltered desire in his eyes as his hands twitched where they were resting near his thighs.
You grabbed both of his hands, placing his palms directly on your chest. “C’mon. Touch me.”
Gulping hard, he leaned into you, broad, unpracticed hands cupping your tits, squeezing just once. Then his hands started moving, experimentally pushing and squeezing over the plush of your tits, palms grazing over the peaks of your pebbled nipples.
You clamped your eyes shut, letting yourself go for the moment. It felt so pleasant, just steady friction against your sensitive breasts.
Armin’s hands were soft—that much you already knew—just as everything else was about him. But while his hands were soft and gentle, his gaze was hard. He was so fixed and focused on you, blue eyes practically dripping with unbridled lust.
He cupped your tits again, a soft nudge, then his hands slid down the curve of your waist. You could feel the trail of warmth that his fingers left on your skin. It clung to you even as his hands moved away to rest on your abdomen. His thumbs pressed into your skin so briefly that his touch might’ve been a spasm of a finger as the bottoms of his palms grazed against the hem of your panties.
The warmth followed down the curve of your hips, down your thighs, and down to your knees. You shifted your legs closer to your body, and his hands quickly cupped the underside of your thighs, squeezing once.
You knew this was his first time, so you let him explore your body as your hand came to his cheek to pull him down for another kiss. His tongue prodded at your lips, and you happily welcomed it.
His hands were everywhere now—your thighs, your hips, your waist, your shoulders, your neck, your arms. You could tell he was losing rhythm between keeping up with the kiss and touching you, but you couldn’t care less.
He pulled away first, leaving a string of saliva hanging between your lips.
“Armin, play with my….” The embarrassment hit you again. You didn’t even want to finish your sentence, but luckily, he seemed to understand.
“Oh.” His fingers found your tits again, thumbs swiping over your nipples before he lightly pinched them, tugging them upwards. “Like this?”
You gasped and squirmed. “Yeah. Like that. Just very lightly. Try rolling them between your fingers.”
His thumb and index finger met with your nipples, and he did what you told him, twisting and rolling your nipples between his fingers.
That elicited a little whine from you. “Feels nice.”
Armin continued his ministrations on you as he alternated between tweaking your nipples and groping your tits whole. It was sensual and quiet, save for the sound of your soft moans.
He suddenly sighed, eyes clouded. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered softly and fondly.
You didn’t answer. Instead, you smiled at him and let your cheeks heat up from his compliment. It caught you off guard. Because somehow, in a suggestive moment like this, he managed to make it sweet. Judging from the tone of his voice, you knew it was genuine.
Because he was a genuine guy.
You cupped the back of his head and pushed him toward your chest. “Put your mouth here.”
He doubled back, eyes wide, but didn’t waste another second to envelop his lips onto your chest. He followed your orders so easily—like a dog to its owner—that you couldn’t help but chuckle at the charm of it.
For a second, you wondered if he needed guidance, but when his tongue laved over your breast, you only held his head tighter as your back arched off the bed in pleasure. His eyelids fluttered shut, feathery, blonde lashes resting against his cheekbones. He kissed your nipple just as he kissed you, licking and sucking meticulously and thoroughly.
One of the things that you liked about Armin was that he was such an adaptable learner. Took things he learned and applied them somewhere else. Not that any of this required any big skill, but he just did it so well and so quickly.
You grabbed his hand and brought it to your other nipple, and he quickly understood, playing with you like he did before.
Suddenly, his teeth took hold of your nipple—just a light graze, and you gasped again. You felt the ache between your thighs throb, shamelessly getting wetter. Where did he learn to do that?
“Okay, that’s—that’s good.” You tapped his cheek. “Over here now.”
His mouth unlatched with a pop and he switched to the other breast, repeating the same routine. You felt the remnants of his saliva on your skin mix with the cool air, tingling.
You were sure your panties were drenched now. Sure that the arousal made the fabric stick to you.
Armin pulled away, licking the spit from his lips, and looked right into your eyes. “Was that okay?” he asked innocently.
“Mhm,” you hummed, but you were convinced it came out more as a whine. You clutched a handful of the fabric of his tee. “Off.”
He sat up straighter, surprised but willing. “Off? Okay, okay.” Armin reached behind him to grab the collar of his T-shirt, and in one swift yank, it came off. He threw his shirt on the floor like the rest of your clothes, and you were left to ogle at his body.
Your eyes raked over the smooth planes of his chest, his slim waist, and the hard, toned stomach where your hands had previously felt.
Even at pools and beaches, he opted for T-shirts with his swim trunks. And the last time you’d seen him shirtless, he wasn’t this jacked.
“I never get to see you like this. You’re so—you’re so built.” The fluster was so evident in your voice as you trailed your fingers down his torso.
He shyly laughed, pink on his cheeks. “Thank you.”
“You’re so pretty, Armin.” Before the embarrassment and weight of your compliment caught up to you, you quickly grabbed the hem of his jeans. “Take—take this off, too.”
You eyed the bulge beneath his pants, hard and begging to be freed.
You gulped. Now you two were really getting into it—seeing and doing something so intimate. You had no problem undressing yourself, but when it came to him…
He nodded as his hands fumbled with the button and zipper, thumbs slotted in between his waistband as he shakily pulled them down. You helped him get them off, anticipation and nervousness coursing through your veins.
Once his jeans were off, he seemed even bigger now. You could see the clear outline of his dick straining against his boxers, and it was messing with your head. This was your best friend, for crying out loud. Both of your most intimate places were each just a layer away, just inches away.
“Fuck, I’m so—” His eyes scanned over you, from the eager expression on your face, to your bare tits, and to your legs that were spread to accommodate him. “You don’t know how hard I am right now.”
You gulped again. “Yeah?” you teased, palming him through his boxers.
He sharply inhaled and cursed low under his breath, but before you could go any further, he grabbed your wrist. There was a look of worry on his face—maybe it was desperation, you thought—and you wondered if you did something wrong.
“W—wait. I want to know how to make you feel good.”
Your face morphed into one of surprise. Armin wanted to please you first.
You felt the arousal creeping up on you. Felt it soaking your panties again.
You breathed out slowly, and for a second, the words died on your tongue. He was going to see you fully naked. Only a flimsy piece of fabric away from erasing the line between your friendship and this…whatever this was.
“Yeah, that’s good. Wanting to please your partner first, that is.” You regained your footing. “Help me take them off?” You eyed him innocently and pulled his hands towards your body until his knuckles touched your panties.
He stared for a moment—definitely at the wet, darkened patch over your crotch. Armin finally took hold of the hem of your panties, fingers hot against the skin of your pelvis. Unblinking, he pulled them down gently, agonizingly slow. You could feel your slick sticking to your panties and the fabric grazing your almost quivering thighs. In an instant, cool air rushed to you.
His eyes never left you as he pulled your panties past your knees and ankles, so fixated and eager that he made you nervous. The coil in your stomach returned, tense, like it was moments away from bursting.
You felt like a virgin all over again. You were embarrassed—even though you knew you shouldn’t be because it was just Armin—and on the brink of clamping your legs together, but you couldn’t because his body was right in between you, even closer than you’d noticed before.
“God, you’re so…” Armin gulped. He was quiet, muttering to himself, struggling to find his words, and nervously pushing his hair back. It fell back messily onto his forehead. “What do I…what do I do now?”
Clutching his hand between both of your palms, you shaped his hand into a “thumbs up” sign and brought it to your slit, spreading yourself with one hand. “This is the clit. If you…if you didn’t already know.”
His thumb grazed over your clit, and a twinge of pleasure shot up your lower body.
“I know.”
Armin thumbed your clit some more, swiping circles and pressing down lightly. You could feel yourself get wetter by the second.
“Is this good?” he asked.
“Mhm. A little faster—oh! Yeah, that’s good.” Your hips bucked as he sped up. “You—you could also use your middle and ring finger.”
You demonstrated with your hand, and he quickly followed, pressing his fingers onto you again.
This time, he started off slow and worked his way to match the pace from before.
“A little lower.” And suddenly you were arching off the bed. “Oh! Wait—”
“Am I doing it right?” he interjected, voice shaky. He was watching for your reaction, blue eyes boring into your face.
You nodded as the pleasure spread through your lower body. He wasn’t the best, but he wasn’t bad in the slightest. He made you feel good, nonetheless. The pads of his fingers were warm and smooth, rubbing all the right ways against your clit.
“You wanna move down now?” you asked.
Wordlessly, his eyes flicked down to your entrance, and the urge to clamp your legs shut returned to you again. You were dripping—you had to be, slick with your wetness pooling around your center. He lingered for a second before his attention diverted back onto your face.
“Show me how.” He said, adamant.
“Just know that…” Your fingers ghosted over his knuckles. “You don’t have to necessarily make me cum. This is just to stretch me out. To prep for the real thing.”
He regarded you with a tiny frown and peered at you hungrily through his long lashes. “What if I want to?”
Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach simmered with warmth.
“Well, you can.” You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat, unsure of what to say. Taking his hand in yours, you isolated his middle and ring fingers and held them close to your entrance. As you did so, something tingled and churned inside your stomach. Nervousness, you thought, apprehension, maybe. Not in a bad way, but in the way that every next step with him left you remembering just how private and raw this was.
“Just like that,” you whispered.
With a gulp, his fingers slid into your soaked cunt. You were so wet and tight, and you knew he could feel it. Feel it envelop his finger, warm and so, so slick. You instinctively clamped down on him as he pushed further.
“Oh, God…Y-Y/N,” he all but stuttered out. “Is—is this what it…”
The desperation showed clearly on his face: lips parted, brows knitted, and eyes drooping with lust.
You grabbed his wrist. “K—Keep going.”
His fingers reached their hilt inside of you, and you had to resist squeezing down on him. He felt like no other guy you’d been with. Because he really wasn’t any other guy.
He pulled them out swiftly, fingers and knuckles now tainted with the remnants of you. “What—what else?” he choked out.
The absence of his fingers left you wanting more. With your grip still on his wrist, you tugged his hand closer to your center. “Curl your fingers like this. When you’re inside.” You choked, too, and cleared your throat. “Just keep moving.”
“Like this?” He entered you again, gently, and pressed against a spot inside you that drove your hips to lurch off the bed.
You nodded weakly, whining. “More.” Your hand on his wrist urged him out, pulling backward. Confused, he slightly resisted. But when you pushed him back in, he seemed to understand the hint.
Armin pressed into you, thrusting his fingers in and curling them right at that sweet spot that had you gasping out. He slid in and out so easily, guided by the slickness of your insides, and worked slowly, almost teasingly, but you squeezed his arm, encouraging him.
“Right there,” you gasped out. “You’re doing so good.”
He groaned in response, a borderline moan. “H—Here?” And curled right into your G-spot.
You let out an abrupt gasp, akin to a stuttered breath, hips bucking upwards as pleasure seeped into your insides. His pace was reckless, but the calculated way the pads of his fingers pushed and grazed against your G-spot had your stomach twisting and your heart racing.
Beside you, you noticed his other hand fisting the bedsheets. Reaching out, you put a hand on top of his. “You okay?” you asked breathily.
Armin glanced up at you, eyes blown out, pupils dilated in such a starved, animalistic way that looked so out of character. He surprised you by lacing his fingers between yours.
“Can I kiss you? Please?”
It caught you off guard, but you didn’t get to register your shock before you were crying loud with a particularly hard thrust. “Please. Please.” You didn’t know why he was even asking.
Armin’s lips crashed onto yours, capturing you in the most heated kiss of the night. Immediately, he dominated the kiss, all spit and tongue, lips hot and molding together with a firm press. His fingers kept fucking into you relentlessly, filling the room with lewd, wet sounds.
His other hand held yours still, squeezing once before letting go and landing on your waist.
“Just wanna feel you,” he mumbled.
Nodding, you strung your hands through his hair as he caressed your waist and tits. His palms grazed over your nipples, making you shudder and bite back a moan.
The coil inside your stomach winded tight and kept winding tighter and tighter when his fingers hit that spot again. The pleasure swirled through you, wave after wave, your hips lurching off the bed and your hands gripping his hair even tighter.
You moaned into his mouth. “So close.”
He groaned, drawn-out, lips wet with saliva, swallowing the noises that came out of your mouth.
“You’re doing so good,” you praised.
Armin whimpered at that—whimpered—and picked up the pace, faster, harder. It was sloppy, but it wasn’t imprecise. He flicked up into you so perfectly until you were stretched out and dripping, and until it finally snapped.
The coil snapped.
“Armin, I’m—I’m cumming! Don’t stop!”
“Hol—Holy shit, Y/N—”
The coil snapped, and sweet euphoria coursed through you, rushing through you like open floodgates. You gushed onto him in the same way, cunt fluttering against the thickness of his fingers. The feeling hit you like a truck and filled you whole.
“Can’t believe this is happening,” he mumbled under his breath in a desperate whine.
You pulled him into a desperate kiss—or was it that he pushed the kiss onto you?—and he dipped down to embrace you. The twitching weight of his clothed cock brushed against your thigh. It wasn’t intentional—at least you didn’t think, but it only reminded you of what was to come next.
As he slowed down, you felt your cum leaking down his knuckles and onto the bedsheets.
“Was that…good?” Armin timidly asked between heavy breaths. Above you, he panted like a dog, even more than you, pretty pink lips parted as if he was the one being fucked. So cute.
You stayed quiet for a moment, relishing in your subsiding orgasm, fatigued and cozy.
“Mhm. That was amazing. You did amazing for your first time.”
He visibly relaxed, slumped back onto his heels, and sighed. “Really? Th—Thank you.”
Even from above you, he looked submissive, face filled with a desperate need. You giggled at his shyness. The irony of it. “Yes, Armin, you…you just made me cum. That’s…”
Uncertainty weighed down on your tongue. Impressive? Was it really impressive, or should it have been expected from him? A part of you knew that he didn’t need any effort. Not because he was somehow a natural or that he was a fast learner, but that it was him, and that gives your body enough stimulation to push itself off the edge.
Hazy and blinded by your orgasm and the strong presence between your legs, you stopped yourself from dwelling on it any further.
“Y/N, what do I do with this…?” He lifted his hand, still slicked with your fluids. His middle and ring fingers parted further, and your shiny, milky cum stretched between his fingers. The sight almost made you gape, such a contrast to the curiosity and genuine concern brimming in his eyes.
“Taste it.”
He sent you a look so incredulous and so quick, those blue eyes widened to the depths as if your suggestion meant total absurdity. “Taste it?”
“Taste it. It’s hot when men do that. Or, you could also make the girl taste it,” you pushed, rising from your spot. You grabbed his wrist, leading it closer to his mouth.
He hesitated and tensed, but when his eyes met yours, you only leaned in, urging him with a look in your eyes. He complied quietly and stuck out his tongue.
The sight was lewd. His face reddened impossibly more, up to the tips of his ears, as his mouth engulfed his two fingers wholly. He crinkled his nose so subtly that you couldn’t tell what ran through his mind. He tasted your fluids on his tongue, sucked it for a second, then swallowed.
Armin’s fingers slid out with a little pop, and you didn’t waste another moment to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself when you pressed your tongue against his. He moaned at the sudden intrusion but melted into you easily. You could already feel his improvement as he reciprocated your energy and licked your mouth so nicely that the naturalness of it baffled you.
A passing thought in your head told you that this might’ve been too much for his first time, but when he dragged his clothed dick against your clit, you knew he enjoyed this as much as you did. You both shivered a little from the contact, prompting him to pull away.
“So…” he started, voice tiny and breathless. “What’s next?” But the way his eyes darted to your bare, leaking pussy and then to the bulge in his boxers suggested he knew exactly what came next.
You looked, too. Looked at the tight fit of his boxers on his bulging cock. Something about it—the unexpected size of him—made you giddy. Swelled your stomach with an indescribable weirdness.
“Take your boxers off.” Though you asked him, you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking your hands to his hips and taking hold of the waistband. “Can I?”
He nodded hurriedly and gulped, tension and desperation etched on his face.
You pulled his boxers down, and with a little lift from his hips, you got them down to his strong thighs. Immediately, his cock sprung up against his abdomen, leaking precum that beaded down his red, aching tip. You licked your lips and gulped involuntarily at the sight because he was just so…
“Big…” you whispered softly.
“What?” He sounded out of it, like his question hadn’t carried any weight, rubbing a palm over his eyelids and pushing it into his hair. Like he couldn’t believe his eyes. An unspoken awkwardness filled the air as Armin removed his boxers completely. “Is—Is something wrong?”
He sat in front of you, naked in his entirety. Broad, smooth chest, taut, defined abs, muscly arms, thick thighs, and the softest, sweetest face that did not match the rock-hard, needy cock between his legs.
“Armin, I…I didn’t know you were so…big.”
He sputtered out, “W—What? I’m—I’m really not.”
He looked so nervous, so unsure. So sweet and so submissive. Instead of answering him, you wrapped both hands around his dick, lightly squeezed, and swiped a thumb over the slit where his precum spilled. You spread it down his shaft, wetting him with his own fluids.
“Agh…fuck…” he groaned, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. When you started jerking your hands up and down the length of his dick, his head moved forward and his hands came to cup your face. His hips bucked up with every jerk. You sensed his stare, but you were too occupied playing with his pretty dick.
“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented quietly. He gulped so hard you heard the small breath that followed after. “I wish you could see how you look right now.”
“Yeah?” you teased, looking up at him between your long lashes. His eyes, lidded and drooping with lust, scanned your body, from your face to where your legs parted and revealed your slit.
“I don’t think you understand how pretty you are to me.” He inhaled sharply and brought a hand to squeeze the area where his shaft met his head, right over where your hand rested. “I could just cum looking at you.”
You didn’t expect that from him. He was just so obscenely honest, wasn’t he?
“Y/N.” He suddenly stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “I think—I think that’s good…don’t wanna take the spotlight. I’m here to please you.”
Your chest warmed at his words, and you fought down the urge to continue pleasing him to release your hands.
“O—Okay,” you stuttered out, gulping and shivering all in one breath. Your body moved on its own and reached for your nightstand. Deep in the last drawer, stashed behind all of your cluttered knick-knacks, sat an unopened box of condoms. Three, actually.
Shakily, under his watchful gaze, you tore apart a box and unveiled a singular, foiled package.
"Oh, you have a lot." He stared in mild disbelief, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, eyes crinkling. If you knew any better, you'd think he was smirking under there.
“It's not what it looks like! Sasha gifted it to me as a gag gift. I haven't done anything in a while,” you quickly defended, trailing off quietly at the end.
He didn’t respond, eyes fixed on the package between your fingers. The air held still, deathly silent beside the sounds of the crinkling wrapper. He had a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, very lightly squeezing.
“You know how to put on a condom?” you finally spoke up.
“I think so.” He nodded.
“Want to do it?”
He hesitated, and you caught the exact moment an idea clicked in his head. “No. Want you to do it.”
Something about that riled you up. Something about him watching you. Something about your dainty hands near his aching, needy cock, too impure for the likes of him.
He whimpered when you started sliding the condom down the length of his cock. The sweet sound of it rang through your ears. Made your heart lurch and your stomach heavy. When you finished, your head lifted to look him in the eyes. His cheeks were flushed so pink you wanted to kiss the color off of them.
“Ready?” You ignored the way your voice shook, borderline a stutter, and circled your arms around his neck.
“Yes. Please,” he whined. He was speaking with his eyes—begging with his eyes.
In one fell swoop, you both clambered down onto the sheets. And in this moment, when your eyes met his in a sweet remembrance, it felt like time had stopped, and all the anticipation you’d ever felt plummeted back into the pit of your stomach and built back up all over again.
He loomed above you, flushed, domineering, and most importantly, nervous.
You only wanted one thing.
"Please. Need you inside me."
He inhaled a deep, unsteady breath, holding back a whine.
Then, you felt the tip of his dick brush against the slicked mess of your opening, and you clenched around the empty, ghostly graze. The hands on your thighs pressed into you with a little more pressure at the contact. He was shaking. His whole body was shaking.
“P—Put it in slowly, ‘kay? Don’t want to hurt the other person.”
Armin listened, and in that final moment of anticipation, he slid in slowly, just the tip. You both gasped at the feeling. You were so, so wet and your heart beat so, so fast and his skin against your skin felt so, so right and so, so warm. The stretch had yet to creep up on you but you were already squirming under his touch.
He pushed into you, the feeling of him inside warm and fulfilling. He let out a strained “shitttt” as his hands moved to dig into your waist even harder. Eyes squeezed shut, he seemed to lose himself in the pleasure. You could tell by his labored breaths and flushed cheeks that he already was so, so sensitive.
With a final push, he bottomed out, touching a spot deep in you, far deeper than your fingers or his fingers or any other man that had come before him. And God, were you wet. Instinctively, your pussy clenched around him.
He hissed, pinning you down with his pelvis. “Don’t. Don’t do anything. Please, or I’m going to cum.”
And then it hit you—that you’d finally done it. That you’d just taken Armin’s virginity.
You had.
Shit, you clamped down on him again, and this time, he groaned and abruptly pulled out.
“Y/N,” he warned, voice drawn with honey. “I am not going to last,” he said, exasperated.
“It’s okay. It’s your first time.” You placed a hand on his cheek. “Besides, you’re with me. You don’t have to worry about it.”
He leaned into your touch, nuzzling into your hands, then gave you a small frown.
“Then how am I supposed to make you feel good?”
“Trust me. You’ll always make me feel good.”
With a cute—yet sinful—smile and a hard swallow, he lined himself up again, hands on your thighs, and gave an experimental thrust.
You whined at the intrusion, reminded again of how he fit so perfectly. How the hardness of his cock dragged so pleasantly against the slickness of your pussy.
And he did it again and again. Thrusted into you, albeit slowly, again and again. You’d let him intoxicate you again and again until all your body knew was the shape of his cock.
He moved deliberately, relishing every inch sheathed inside of you. He’d pull out with all the time in the world, dick coated in your wetness and eyes locked on where your bodies intertwined, and thrust back in with the most fervor and impatience.
The slowness of it, the intimacy of it—you couldn’t help but buck your hips in hopes of more.
With soft moans, his thrusts sped up, and without a warning, you felt him fully, the whole weight of him spilling inside of you. His hands slid up to your waist as his head tipped forward. You arched your back into him in a silent plea, finding yourself yearning for his pretty lips, the knot inside of your stomach swelling with pleasure. As if he could read your mind, he drowned your lips in a feverish, hot, kiss, burning your mouth with his tongue.
Every thrust met with the slap of skin-on-skin and the squelch of your fluids. It echoed through your bedroom walls alongside your muffled, whiny moans. You let yourself sink into the pleasure, letting him know that you felt good—that he made you feel good.
Because truly, he did nothing wrong; it all felt so right with him.
As he broke away from the kiss, leaving yet another string of saliva between you two, you took the chance to grab his hand.
“Play with my body. Like here.” You placed his palm onto your breast, squeezing it with his hand underneath yours. “Or here.” You sensually dragged his hand down to your slicked-up, aching clit.
Wordlessly, he complied, gulping down a constricted moan that bobbed his Adam’s apple. Armin rubbed your clit like you’d taught him, watching your hips wriggle under his touch.
As a reward, you tightened around him. Oh, did you like seeing him lose composure. You liked picking him apart. You liked plucking the petals off of this innocent, little flower. And judging from his dazed, barely present expression and the hands gripping hard onto your hips, you knew he liked it too.
He whined again, and the sound rang in the air in a soft whisper. So vocal, wasn’t he?
“Don’t be afraid to make noise. I wanna know how good you feel,” you asserted through lidded eyes.
Armin hummed a noise of confirmation, but it came out more of a moan as he juggled responding to you and recklessly pounding into you. You could tell he felt good—too good—as did you.
The ebb and flow of pleasure swam inside you with each fill of his cock into your pussy, waiting to burst. You felt so close yet far away, but you let him experiment, toying with you, trying every angle in both erratic and deliberate ways.
“Fuck!” you both cursed simultaneously with a perfect thrust into that spot inside of you. Your back arched off the bed unwillingly, arms clasping around his back and nails digging into his skin.
Armin moaned oh-so-sweetly. “I’m so close!” he panted out, a borderline whine.
“Cum for me. Please, Armin. Do it.”
And his hips never stopped. Kept fucking hastily and sloppily into you in chase of his climax and in chase of the sweet yelps pouring out of your mouth. You spurred him on, almost able to taste his final moment.
But the moment never came. You could hear the relentless, wet smack of your colliding bodies and the mix of low groans and hearty moans tumbling from his lips. His hips still never stopped, still chasing, still tasting.
You couldn’t believe he lasted this long. He really did want to hold out for you, to make you feel good.
Mewling again, you tightened your arms around his neck, the warmth scalding but the softness soothing under your fingertips. “Touch me. Please.”
His fingers pinched your perk nipple before you could even finish your sentence. He rolled the bud around with his thumb and forefinger until he heard you moan, finally laying a palm down to squeeze your entire tit—and squeezed hard. You relished in the way his hand trailed down, slowly, to where he could swipe his fingers over your throbbing clit.
Right now, all you knew was the shape of his cock. Heat radiated from his body and wrapped around you in a warm embrace. His breath tickled your earlobe, face hovering just above the crook of your neck.
Oh, please, it felt so good, so intimate. Everything about this. Everything about him.
"I love you. I love you so much,” he rasped through squeezed-shut eyes.
You looked at him wide-eyed, confused, and spellbound within the haze of lust, so out of that you believed your ears played a trick on you. It slipped out of his lips so wantonly you believed he uttered the words accidentally.
Your room suddenly felt too stuffy and a hundred more degrees hotter. A lone, oddly watchful bead of sweat rolled down your brow.
It took him only a second of your silence before he started nervously blabbering in your ear. "Um, wait, sorry. Shit. I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I got lost in the moment. I’m sorry.”
He slowly inched away from you, but you paid no mind and pulled him back onto your lips.
You didn’t care that, caught so deep in emotion and pleasure, he said “I love you” during sex—during his first time, no less. His first time with you. And now, after it happened, you didn’t care to warn him of that taboo. You wanted to selfishly indulge in the possibility that he’d always say it to you, regardless of who he shared his first time with.
In your pleasurable bliss, you let yourself give in. “I love you too, Armin.”
He pulled away abruptly, your lips pulling apart with a wet click, disrupting the strange magnetism between the two of you.
"I'm sorry,” he whispered, then kissed you full force.
His love seeped into every pore of your body when he started thrusting into you again, full and hard and deep and starved. He didn’t spare you a chance to breathe with the way his mouth and cock engulfed you whole.
A mixture of whines, moans, and smacks filled your bedroom once more. The pounding rhythm between your legs grew sloppier, though still unyielding and energetic. You wanted to cry out, louder than ever and let your neighbors know because everything felt so unexpectedly good. Armin. Your best friend.
You ran your hands through his already-messed-up, blonde hair. You loved this look on him, a side of him that people never saw. Disheveled, falling apart, and...crazy.
He leaned back on his knees, still moving his hips, lust-filled eyes a dark, stormy blue that raked over your body.
And he did something you didn't expect of him—like he let it slip, like he couldn't keep his composure anymore.
He smirked down at you.
But you were convinced it was a mere twitch in your delirium, disappearing when you blinked.
His tip brushed your G-spot again, and you finally did cry out. “Right there! D—Don’t stop!”
Armin groaned in response, choking on his words, and suddenly laved a tongue over the pulse point in your neck. “You feel—you feel so good! I can’t hold…!”
That coil in your stomach thrashed with the need to burst and taunted you with the promise of an orgasm. You felt tight all over, so constricted with pleasure and emotion and heat.
“Y/N, you’re driving me crazy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m—”
“M—Me, too! I’m close. Cum for me, please.”
With one last thrust, he came, moaning loud, spilling hot cum into the condom. You felt him twitch inside you as a gradual warmth filled your insides.
Fuck, that did it for you. You came right behind him, wrapping your legs around him tight like a vice, white-hot pleasure consuming every vein in your body. In that moment, you kissed him and clamped your eyes shut, focusing hard, your cunt squeezing down on him to wring out the last of his orgasm, fluttering and pulsing so uncontrollably hard. It was like your pussy never wanted to let him go, wanted to relish the last of that feeling of home when his cock rooted deep into your pussy.
All the while, he spewed praises at you, some dirty, some sweet.
You couldn’t tell how long the two of you took to come down, to stop kissing, for your cunt to stop gushing, and for him to pull out—because it seemed like that moment lasted forever. Your cum coated your pelvis, his pelvis, your thighs, his thighs, and the already-soaked bedsheets.
With bated breaths and shaky hands, he pulled off the condom, tied the latex up, wrapped it in a tissue from your bedside, and threw it onto the floor where it landed among your sparsely scattered clothes.
Armin slumped down on you, wrapping strong arms around your waist in a suffocating, hot embrace. You gladly welcomed his weight.
It smelled of sex, sweat, and the dwindling remnants of his cologne.
You laid there, catching your breath.
You did it. He did it. You finished taking his virginity, and he successfully made you cum during the process.
And everything left you wondering…
Why was that…good? Sex with a virgin. Sex with your best friend. Did you even teach him enough? Because that was definitely a learning experience for you. The post-orgasm clarity hit you now like a slipper to the face, and you couldn’t wrap your head around what just happened.
Sleepily, you broke the silence, “Good job, Armin. You did amazing. You’re attentive, a fast learner, and just already so good to me. You made me cum twice. For a virgin.” A hearty laugh parted from your throat as you strung your fingers through his mussed hair. “I guess you aren’t one anymore.”
Armin remained silent. Was he already asleep?
In the quiet darkness, your heart started beating fast, even after the sex. Laying here felt domestic, like somebody made this bed for the two of you to snuggle in tonight, like a real couple.
Armin, face wedged between your sheets and your shoulder, hugged you impossibly tighter when he shifted to look at you.
“Thank you. I love you, Y/N.”
He breathed those three words with so much adoration in his eyes, gazing at you longingly beneath his thick, long lashes. The blue of his eyes shone brightly even in the dim lighting and through the hair obscuring his face.
“I really do love you,” he continued. “Not because of the sex. But because you’re a good friend. Thank you for letting me be vulnerable.”
Oh my gosh. You really didn’t deserve him. You’d exchanged your fair share of sentimental, platonic “I love you’s” to each other, but this one wrenched your heart like no other. Especially after sex.
He left you at a loss for words. But sleep tugged at your eyelids and your mind screamed at you to clean up and your post-nut clarity still remained unresolved; you couldn’t think of a reply even if you wanted to.
Even overwhelmed, your heart called out to him and you mustered up something.
“I’m grateful to have you as a best friend. I love you,” you gritted out.
Wrong. So, so wrong. Right now, this conversation was getting too emotional for a strictly physical agreement. But you didn’t lie nevertheless, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.
Feeling grimy, you wriggle under his hold. “We should clean up. It’s good for women to pee after sex.”
As the final rip of the bandaid, he pecked you on your jaw. “I can’t.”
Your face twisted in confusion, still clouded by tiredness and the daze of lingering thoughts. “You can’t?”
“I can’t help it,” he suddenly mumbled.
“Armin, what are you—”
You didn’t get to finish your sentence when you felt something poking your thigh, stiff and hard.
Armin groaned deep in his chest, the sound rumbling against the shell of your ear as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.
The hands that were once wrapped around your body slowly released their hold and grabbed onto your hips, hard and impatient. Armin started rutting into your thighs, dragging you along with him.
Your heart stuttered for a moment, in disbelief that he could keep going and that you would have to keep going, but your pussy clenched around nothing at the promise of something more.
“Can’t help it. I’m—I’m hard again.”
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three's a... - jean kirschstein x afab!reader x eren jaeger - 18+!!!
i feel like i have mentioned the possibility of giving y'all an erejean threesome way too many times to keep holding out on you, so now that i've finally nitpicked this fic to death, here we are!! literally living my dreams vicariously through this fic. i'm still not 100% happy with it, but eren and jean are sexy here and are doing half of the work of making this worth the read for me lolol. it's also written mostly through jean's pov which was interesting to play with.
pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein
wc: 6.5k
DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.
CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, threesome, established relationship (eren's ur perfect bf and u guys can't stop having sex with jean lol), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, anal (fingering and fucking), swearing, use of names (slut, brat, pretty girl, good girl, angel), mean dom eren vs soft dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie, double penetration, bicurious jean and bicurious eren (tasty, they definitely don't keep their hands to themselves), polyamory implied
buckle up, this was a blast to write and i hope it's equally as fun to read. enjoy <33
-
Jean should definitely not be here.
He should absolutely not be on his living room couch with Eren Jaeger’s girlfriend’s head in his lap, playing idly with her hair. By all traditional conventions and rules of exclusive relationships, Jean’s fairly sure that letting your girlfriend rest her head on the crotch of your roommate while he strokes her hair is on the no-no list. Not for Eren, apparently, who has your feet in his lap on the other end of the couch, playing with your toes absentmindedly and making you giggle and kick him in protest. Jean should not be here, but you and Eren have made a habit of roping him into circumstances that he would never admit to, not even at gunpoint.
If Jean is brutally, painfully honest with himself, he knows he had gotten himself into this. You were just so cute, wisping around their apartment in a big tshirt and tiny shorts in the mornings, always making sure to save him a cup of coffee. Maybe he had let his lingering glances linger just a little too long, smirked over his coffee mug at you one too many times, come up behind you to help you reach something on the top shelf and leaned a little too close, Jean couldn’t pinpoint exactly what caused Eren to notice his clear attraction towards you, but he did. Instead of getting his ass kicked like he had expected when you and Eren sat down to confront him, Jean had learned something.
Eren Jaeger has a greedy, spoiled brat of a girlfriend.
That had been the first time Jean came in you, fucking into your throat while Eren watched from across the room, palming over the bulge in his jeans. The second time, the two of you had invited Jean out for a drink, which, in hindsight, he should have seen the ulterior motive from a mile away. He had ended up cumming in your pussy, bending you over in the bar bathroom with Eren’s cock in your mouth. The third time had been in Eren’s bedroom as you rode him, Eren sitting behind you and working your hips over Jean’s cock as you wailed.
Jean had stopped his ministrations in your hair as he was reflecting on how exactly he got into this situation, trying very hard not to think too far into the filthy details to prevent propping your head up with an erection. You make a little noise of discontent, grabbing at his hands and urging them back to your hair.
“Jean, don’t stop. Feels good.”
Jean’s mouth tightens into a thin line at your choice of words, words he’s heard from you before under very different circumstances, but he obliges. So much for self control. Eren raises a smug eyebrow at him from across the couch.
“You’re giving her what she wants, right, Kirschtein?”
Jesus, you two are insatiable, still managing to grate on Jean’s razor-thin willpower with all of your clothes on. Jean wonders briefly what the appeal is for Eren, if he gets off on watching you take another man’s cock, bring another man near to tears with your warm, silken cunt. Does Eren enjoy dangling you in front of Jean until he’s forced to give in? Eren’s gaze lingers on Jean’s hands, threading through your hair, awaiting an answer.
“Yeah,” Jean says, not trusting any more words to his loose lips. They’ve already betrayed him three times now, saying yes when they should have been saying no.
“Good,” Eren responds simply, offering a small smile that, to anyone else, looks innocent. Jean knows Eren better than that. He watches as Eren’s hand travels up your bare leg, coming to rest on your upper thigh. You’re affected by it, such a simple touch, such a sensitive little body; he can feel you tense over his thighs.
Jean steels his jaw and forces his eyes back over to the movie. He’s got to stop playing these fucked up games of yours, it’s bad for him and he knows it. He hasn’t dated in months, not since you’d first pulled him into your little world, can’t bring himself to look at anyone else, can’t stand the thought of feeling anyone else’s skin under his fingers. His little crush has bloomed into full-blown lovesickness, and it would be best for him if he just stopped.
All of that ironclad willpower melts away in an instant when you let out a little moan.
Eren’s hand has snuck its way up to your shorts, nudging at the apex of your thighs. His focus is still trained on whatever reality show you’ve put on, completely ignoring the way you sigh under his touch. Jean’s cock twitches in his pants; this is his opportunity to hesitate, to say no, but he stays silent, only watching as you squirm in his lap.
“Eren,” your chastisement comes out as a breath. One of your hands comes to meet Eren’s, trying to push him away, but he simply swats your hand, shooting you a stern look.
“Behave,” Eren warns, eyes dark and dangerous. Jean’s learned that Eren’s mean to you, snappy when you put on your little attitude and fight back, but Jean doesn’t have the willpower. He holds you gently while he fucks into you hard, gives you anything you ask for.
You bite your lip and turn your head back to the TV, one hand coming up to pull Jean’s away from your head, wrapping your fingers around his. Jean’s breath hitches in his throat when you squeeze tight, back arching like you’re holding back a moan; Eren’s worked his way into your panties now, rubbing little circles over your clit.
“Look, Jaeger,” Jean makes a half-hearted attempt to remove himself, pulling his hand from yours and making all the movements to suggest he’s going to stand up, “I should–”
“What?” Eren cocks his head, as casual as if they’re discussing the weather. “Look at her, you really gonna just leave her there like that while I’m teasing her?”
Against his better judgment, Jean flicks his eyes down towards you. It’s a pitiful sight, your eyes already glossed over and staring up at him, wide and pleading, your bottom lip tucked in tight between your teeth.
“Jean,” his name comes out of your mouth, broken and already heady with arousal. That’s what snaps his resolve clean in two. You need him.
“What is it?” Jean hates the fondness in his voice, so glaringly obvious in front of your fucking boyfriend. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, though; he picks up speed, making you wriggle impatiently.
“Wanna kiss,” you whimper, reaching up towards his face.
“Don’t,” Eren stops Jean from leaning down, “she’s been bad today.”
“Is that so?” Jean rubs a thumb over your lips, frowning down at you. He can see the guilt in the way your brows knit together; oh, you have been bad, and you know it.
“Wouldn’t stop begging me for you, wanted to snuggle with Jeanie,” Eren raises his voice to mock you, slapping a hand against your clit and making you jump.
Jean’s face burns; is this it? Is this finally Eren telling him that you’re off-limits, finally deciding that Jean’s had his fill? And he’s going to rub it in his face by torturing you on Jean’s lap?
“Tell him,” Eren demands, another sharp smack landing on your cunt.
“Didn’t want to wait t-til you got home,” your face is already blotchy, eyes clouded with shame, “wanted Eren to text you and make you leave work.”
“And what did I say?”
“Be patient,” your voice wavers, Jean’s heart pounds in his ears, “and Jean would come take care of me.”
“So needy,” Eren tuts down at you, cruelly shoving a finger into your wet heat and instantly removing it, drawing a breathy whine from you, “see?”
Eren’s offering his finger to Jean, shining with slick, eyebrows lifted insistently. Jean narrows his eyes, cocks his head. What game is he playing at?
“What, don’t want a taste?” Eren’s eyes glint in the low light, taunting him. Jean leans forward hesitantly, lets the other man slide a thick finger between his lips. You always taste so good, salty and tangy; Jean feels a groan rumble deep in his chest. The corner of Eren’s mouth curls ever so slightly. Whatever game he’s playing, Jean’s losing. “Touch her, but no kisses. She has to behave if she wants that.”
You pout, bottom lip still wobbling where you’ve pushed it out, but you arch your back a little, straining your tits against your tank top. Jean knows you well enough by now, knows you chose that thin little top and didn’t wear a bra just for him, just to tempt him. You have been bad, but Jean doesn’t care, could never care when you’re looking up at him all sweet and needy. But he knows better than to disobey Eren’s rules, for your sake. Eren will edge you for the rest of the night, make himself cum, and leave you out to dry.
“Jean, please–”
“Sh,” Jean shushes you, sits you up just a little so he can pull your tank top over your head, “I’ve gotcha. Just be good for us, alright?”
You nod and smile drunkenly as he cups your breasts, kneading your nipples between his fingers. They’re one of his favorite things about you; he can’t resist leaning down to place sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your hot skin, lick around your nipples just light enough to tease. Maybe Jean can be a little mean too.
“More,” you gasp, fingers coming to clutch at his head, “more, I– oh!”
Jean’s eyes flit down your body to see Eren’s now got two long fingers shoved knuckle-deep in you, curling them fast enough to make you cry out, roll your hips up towards him. If he looks closely, he can see a wet patch forming on the crotch of your shorts; it makes his cock throb. He’s never met a woman that gets as wet as you, filthy at the slightest touch.
“You’re so messy,” Jean voices his mind without exactly meaning to, pulling himself from you so he can prop you up against his chest and let you look at the mess you’ve made. You give him a little whine of protest, tilting your chin up towards him, searching for his mouth.
“Please, I want–”
“I know what you want,” Jean thumbs at your lip, “he’s mean, isn’t he? Making you behave yourself when all you want is a little love, isn’t that right?”
“Mhm,” you manage to shoot a scathing glare at Eren that makes Jean chuckle, makes Eren smack your thigh hard enough to echo throughout the room.
“Stupid little slut,” Eren growls, moving his fingers faster, “you’re just all about Jean because he spoils you, aren't you? Someone has to make sure you behave yourself.”
Jean’s eyes widen; Eren’s clearly in a mood today, and Jean hopes it doesn’t have anything to do with his presence. Eren’s a mixed bag most times. Jean’s overheard him making soft, quiet love to you, little praises slipping out from the crack in his bedroom door, but Jean’s also watched Eren edge you to the point of tears, spit on your cunt, spank you until you bruise. Maybe Eren’s jealousy finally is getting the better of him, Jean thinks, maybe he just can’t say no to your insatiable appetite, and he is actually pissed that you had begged him for Jean.
“Jean,” you’re clutching at his shirt, moaning pathetically as Eren sucks harsh bites into your thighs.
“Did it to yourself,” Jean shakes his head at you sadly, “you know better than to make him mad.”
“Shut her up,” Eren nods his head at your mouth meaningfully, “I’ve heard enough out of her for today.”
It takes some awkward repositioning, but Jean’s able to pull his cock out, tap it against your tongue where you’ve already got your mouth hanging open, drool pooling on his lap under your cheek.You shove yourself up with some effort, and take Jean almost to the hilt on your first go, slurping lewdly around him. Jean nearly chokes.
“Oh, you are needy today,” he hisses, threading his fingers through your hair, making sure his view remains unobstructed. “That what you wanted? My cock in your throat?”
You manage a stiff nod around him in between the muffled moans you’re letting out around his cock; Eren’s added his thumb to the mix now, pulling your panties to the side so he can swipe at your clit.
“She was fuckin’ drooling for it earlier,” Eren says, meeting Jean’s eyes with a smirk, “should have seen her, all pouty and sad because her Jeanie wasn’t here. Pathetic.”
In the small part of Jean’s brain that’s still able to think rationally with his cock nudging at your gag reflex, he’s frowning in confusion. Eren is pissed at you because you were begging for Jean, and here he is spurring Jean on in fucking into your throat. It makes no fucking sense, really, but Jean’s getting his dick sucked, and not for the first time, by the woman he’s been pining after for months, so who is he to question it?
“Mmph!” You squeal, mouth too full to form a real sound, hips canting up violently towards Eren. Eren laughs, low and cruel.
“Aw, I think she’s gonna cum soon,” Eren pulls his fingers from you, a tear slips down your cheek. “Pity.”
Your cry of protest is whimpered by Jean standing up slightly, angling his hips to plunge as deep as he can. He’s only had his cock in your mouth a few times, but Jean’s intuitive. He knows how much you can take, knows exactly how far to push you before it’s too much.
“Don’t whine, baby,” Jean huffs, “just gonna make him more mad. He won’t let me help you if you don’t behave.”
“Look at you,” Eren runs his hands along your thighs, leans down to press a chaste kiss over where you’ve ruined your shorts, “being a good girl for us. S’that what it takes for you to behave? Need both of us?”
If Jean’s not mistaken, the garbled sound you make around him is one of agreement. The thought goes straight between his legs, brings him far closer to the edge than he’d like to be at this point. He pulls your mouth off of him, making you pout.
“But–”
“I know, I know, you want it,” Jean rubs an affectionate thumb over your cheek, “but you want me to fuck you, too, right?”
“Please,” you breathe, reaching down to wiggle your shorts off. Eren’s face lights up.
“Wanna show him your little surprise, baby?” Eren’s tugging at your shorts now, ripping them off and tossing them to the sides. He puts his hands under your arms, yanking you out of Jean’s lap and throwing your chest over his shoulders. When Eren’s hands come to your cheeks, spreading them so Jean can see, Jean’s heart nearly stops. There’s a little pink rhinestone glittering where your asshole should be– a plug, keeping you open and ready. Eren meets Jean’s eyes, daring. “She picked it out just for us. Want us both, don’t you? Nasty little thing.”
Eren punctuates his statement with a grin and a sharp slap to your ass that makes you jump, nod desperately from behind him. Jean reaches a cautious hand over, puts two fingers around the toy and pulls lightly, just enough to watch it move in you. You whine; he can see your empty cunt flutter.
“Can she take it? Both of us?”
“Oh yeah,” Eren brushes off Jean’s concern, “been using all her little toys for weeks, making me practice with her. She can take it.”
With that, Jean’s standing, padding into his room and knowing Eren’s following with you still tossed over his shoulder. His head spins; you, his precious little toy, have been stretching yourself out, getting yourself ready to have two cocks in you? The thought nearly makes Jean moan to himself, imagining how tight you’ll be all stuffed full.
Eren’s thrown you on the bed none too gently, stripping as you look up at him, hearts in your eyes. He stops midway through pulling his clothes off to grab your chin, offer your pleading gaze to Jean.
“Why don’t you ask him, hm?” Eren coos, looking between you and Jean with a filthy grin on his face. “Ask him again, see if you’ve been good.”
“Will you kiss me, Jean? Please?” Your voice has that thin, fucked out tone to it that drives Jean crazy, makes him want to make you cry.
“Yeah princess, I’ll kiss you.” He leans down, takes your soft mouth in his, Eren never releasing his hold on your chin. Jean can taste himself on your tongue, smiling appreciatively at the salty tang. Eren rips you away far too soon, pressing his mouth down on you far rougher than Jean had. They balance each other well, Jean thinks, the gentle caresses and the sharp slaps that make you come undone under them in a way neither of them can manage alone.
“On your knees, brat,” Eren sneers, the shred of tenderness that he’d grabbed your face with long-gone, “convince us to fuck you stupid.”
You nod obediently, sliding off the bed and onto your knees, reaching for Jean. He steps forward, letting you hold his cock in your little hand, rub up and down while you take Eren in your mouth. Even your hands are enough to drive him crazy, so soft and supple around him; Jean’s head falls back.
“Fuck,” Eren sucks a sharp breath in between his teeth, “that’s it, baby, take it.”
Something possesses Jean, what it is he can’t be sure, but he reaches a hand down to the back of your head, pushing you further down Eren’s length. He half-expects Eren to chastise him for it, but Eren groans, long and loud, a sound that simmers in Jean’s stomach.
Jean watches the contractions of Eren’s abs, trails his eyes up to where the other man’s strong chest is heaving, a strange, hot sensation trickling through his center. It’s too late to look away once he realizes he’s been caught, but instead of finding amusement when he meets Eren’s eyes, Jean finds something else entirely.
Eren’s looking at Jean the way he looks at you, all lusty and uninhibited. Jean nearly scowls at him, everything he’s internalized over the years rearing its head in his chest, but Eren stops him with a hand wrapped around the back of Jean’s neck. In the blink of an eye, there’s a set of lips on his, a sharp tongue licking into his mouth.
Jean lets out a wanton, strung out moan that Eren swallows, echoes with one of his own. Jean notices that your head has stilled under his hand, and he shoves you back onto Eren’s cock mindlessly, relishing in the way Eren’s mouth stutters against his own when you retch around him. He trails his hand, tentative and exploratory, up to Eren’s hair, grabs the bun at the back of his head and pulls. Jean’s surprised at the heat beneath his palm; he’s always known Eren runs hot, especially after the last few times he’s fucked you. It’s only natural to brush arms, brush legs during the act, but Eren’s skin is scalding, damp with sweat under his touch.
It’s not Jean’s first kiss with a man, not by any means, but he’d never guessed that Eren, headstrong, manly, unreadable Eren, had this in him. Had it been hiding there for all of these years? Was it a spur of the moment thing, that Eren would look back on and cringe at later?
Doubt getting the better of him, Jean breaks first, pulls away with a quiet smacking sound. Eren’s eyes are just as wide as his feel, searching Jean’s face for any sign of regret, of satisfaction, of something. A loud whine from below distracts them both, and whatever odd moment was forming is broken as they look down at you.
Your chin is covered in drool from where you’ve been choking on Eren, gagging around him, and your eyes are glossy and needy. Jean’s cock gets impossibly harder.
“What?” Eren taunts. “You jealous that I kissed your Jeanie?”
“Yeah,” you pout, brows knitting, but Jean can see the arousal written into your features. You liked it.
“Get up,” Jean says to you, voice hard and unforgiving.
You follow his instruction, standing on shaking legs. Jean can see the snark in your eyes before it comes out of your lips. “What, finally going to pay attention to me now?”
As soon as the words have left your mouth, Eren’s hand is around your jaw, wrenching it open for him to spit into your mouth. “Don’t fucking talk back, not if you want to cum.”
“You were doing so good,” Jean rubs a hand over your hip, guiding you to lay on top of him on the bed, “what, are you that desperate for us that you can’t mind your manners?”
“I just–”
“Want both of your slutty little holes filled?” Eren scoffs, kneeling on the bed behind where you’re straddling Jean’s hips. “Yeah, we know.”
You frown and lean down to Jean, searching for consolation, but he shoves you to sit back up, admiring the way your chest bounces with the movement.
“Can’t be nice to you all the time,” Jean’s voice is low, dangerous, “not when you act like a brat.”
He can see the heartbreak on your face, revels in it, but it’s short lived. Your eyes fly open as Eren works the plug out of you, tossing it to the side and wrapping an arm around you to take your neck in his hand. Eren looks down at Jean, exchanges a conspiratorial smirk with him.
“Why don’t you ask Jean if you can sit on it while I work you open, hm?”
Your eyes glisten pleadingly at Jean, but something’s come over him. He realizes he likes drawing those begging moans out of you, likes holding you over the edge between the tips of his fingers. Jean shrugs.
“Show me how bad you want it.”
While Eren reaches over to scrounge around for the lube in Jean’s bedside table, you start to work your hips over Jean’s cock, slicking it up with how wet you already are. Jean grabs you by the back of the neck, pulls you to him to drink down the little whimpers and moans that escape your lips.
“Jean, please,” you sigh into his mouth, “I need you.”
Jean’s resolve wavers, but he stands firm. “Beg.”
“I–” hot tears of shame are welling in your eyes now, Jean wants to lick them from your cheeks– “please, I need it, need your cock in me, please, Jean.”
“What do you think, Eren?” As Jean asks the question, it strikes him just how often he refers to the other man simply as “Jaeger”, not by his first name. In his mind, ‘Jaeger’ is his friend of many years, and ‘Eren’ is the man that he had just inexplicably, passionately kissed. “Think she’s earned it?”
“Let’s see how she takes my fingers,” Eren replies, slicking his fingers up with lube and forcing two into your already-stretched hole with ease, making you squeak in surprise, “oh fuck, she’s already so stretched out for us. Yeah, give her what she wants, let her warm up to it.”
“Thank you, t-thank you,” you stammer, out of your mind with want as Jean slides the head of his cock into you with a long groan.
“Shit,” Jean growls, holding onto you tight to prevent your hips from pushing down on him too fast, filling you up too quickly with Eren’s fingers hard at work in your other hole. Maybe he is the nice one, after all. “So fucking tight for me, aren’t you?”
“Mhm, for you,” you hum, lip tucked in your teeth.
“Think she likes you more than me,” Eren smirks from over your shoulder, working a third finger into you and making your jaw drop. For his part, Jean bottoms out, hissing as you pulse around him. He can feel Eren’s fingers scissoring through your walls, eyes rolling back into his head at the sensation.
“You okay? Is it too much?” Jean notices one of those tears that had sparkled in your eyes earlier threatening to fall, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him. You look beautiful, all stretched around him and fucked out, mind blank.
“It’s a lot,” you nod, sniffle, “but I’m okay, I can take him. Want to, want– need you both.”
Eren’s eyes darken, and Jean can feel him remove his fingers, feel the accommodating stretch of your walls able to breathe again. Jean takes your hips in his hands, rolling you along his cock to grant both of you some of the friction you desperately need. You mewl, leaning over to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Eren’s lining up behind you, running a soothing hand over your back.
“Deep breaths, baby,” Jean instructs you, holding you to his chest. You sniffle and nod into his shoulder, muscles tense and twitching.
“Tell me if it’s too much, alright angel?” Eren leans over to press a surprisingly tender kiss between your shoulder blades and gives Jean a signaling nod, which Jean returns.
Jean can feel it the moment Eren pushes in, feel your body stretching itself to accommodate both of them. You squeal into the skin of Jean’s shoulder that you’ve taken between your teeth, and it hurts, but he lets you, rubbing circles on your lower back.
“Doing so good for us, baby,” Jean hums, pressing his lips to your ear, “too much?”
You shake your head, whimpering as Eren pushes in further.
“God, she’s– shit, it’s so fucking tight,” Eren growls, jaw clenched and a little vein protruding in his neck from the effort of holding himself back, reining in the part of himself that just wants to snap his hips forwards into you.
“Yeah, she is,” Jean chokes out, feeling suffocated by the way you’re pulsing around him, by the pressure of Eren’s cock shoving at him. He’s not sure where he ends and where the both of you begin, if there’s even any separation between his skin and Eren’s and yours anymore.
“Feel so– full,” you hiccup, nails digging into Jean’s shoulders. Your watery voice makes Eren pause, rub a hand over your back.
“You doing okay, baby? How you feeling?”
“Feels….” you take in a deep, heaving breath, “good. Feels so good.”
Eren grins, something feral. “That’s our girl. So good for us, yeah?”
“You like being full, hm?” Jean can feel a smile mirroring Eren’s on his face.
He doesn’t miss Eren’s choice of words. Our girl. And you are their girl, you love being full of them. Of course you do. You’re their insatiable little plaything, so good at taking them in each of your holes. You love it, you love them.
“It’s– fuck, I’m in,” Eren’s staring at where you’re all connected. Jean wishes he could see, but the tightness of you around him is enough, the way he can feel Eren through your thin walls, pressing against his cock. Eren pumps his hips experimentally, and all three of you moan in sync.
“Pl-please move, Jean, fuck- no, Eren, just–” you’re babbling nonsensically, music to their ears.
“We’ve got you,” Jean hushes you, fucking his hips up into you and cutting you off, “just sit tight and be our good little girl, alright?”
“Oh g-god.” Your words wrench from you in a sob, jolting with the thrust of Jean’s hips up into yours. It takes some work, but soon enough, they’re pumping in and out of you at the perfect pace, synced up so you’re never empty, not for long. You’re wailing, voice scratchy from all the crying you’ve already done that night, clutching onto Jean like he’s your last lifeline.
“Feels so fucking good,” Eren grits out, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips, “so good for us.”
“Not gonna last long, not like this,” Jean agrees, sitting you up so he can see you, see your wet cheeks and your open mouth, “so pretty like this, aren’t you? All stuffed full?”
“She loves it,” Eren growls over your pathetic, shaky moan of agreement, landing a smack on your ass, “fucking loves us, don’t you baby? Tell us, tell us how much you love it.”
“I-I love it,” you manage, voice wrecked, “love you— fuck- love you both so much.”
Jean’s eyes widen, roll back in his head a little. You’re so perfect, obedient and willing to take both of them, let them abuse your holes. The thought makes him bite down on the inside of his cheek, not willing to be the first to break and ruin this perfect moment.
“Jean, I– shit, I’m gonna cum soon,” Eren pants, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open when he meets Jean’s eyes. “Make her cum.”
Jean nods determinedly, somehow finds the presence of mind to slide a hand in between your slick bodies, swiping at your clit insistently. Your body blooms for him, back arching as you throw your head back against Eren’s shoulder. He feels you clench violently around him, knows you’ve already been on the edge since they started with you, knows you won’t take much goading to break for them.
“That good?” Jean forced out through his clenched jaw, trying to keep pace with Eren amidst your vice-like grip on him.
“Yes, so fucking– oh my god, J-Jean, I’m– Eren,” you’re babbling, close to the point of hysteria, eyes blank and teary. Jean’s free hand wraps around your hip, grabbing hard at the flesh there. He’s so gone he barely catches it, just barely, but he notices Eren’s hand. Eren lays his palm over Jean’s, deliberate and steady, grabbing onto the other man’s hand and squeezing down. Jean meets Eren’s eyes, fucked out and hooded.
“Come on,” Jean rubs faster, harder, his eyes flitting back and forth between yours and Eren’s, “show us what a good fucking girl you are for us.”
Whatever was tethering you to your sanity falls away, and you cum harder than Jean’s ever seen, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as your muscles lock up, legs trembling on either side of Jean’s hips. He grips your hip harder, trying to maintain a pace so you can ride your orgasm out on top of them. Eren follows quickly behind you, biting into your shoulder with a loud, long groan. When Jean feels Eren’s cum leaking out of you, feels the mess they’ve made between your legs, he falls over the edge too, slamming your hips down into his and grinding up into you with a moan.
The three of you collapse into a heap of limbs and sweat and stickiness, chests heaving and muscles twitching. Jean can feel the burn of Eren’s skin and the slick, plush give of yours, enveloping him from every angle, and for the first time in months, he lets his eyes flutter shut, letting himself enjoy the simple pleasure of touch.
But nothing is forever, and after a few minutes, he feels you begin to stir between them, mumbling about needing to go to the bathroom. Eren reluctantly rolls off the bed to help you to the bathroom to clean up, leading you out on shaking legs. Alone again, Jean throws his hands over his face and sighs, deep and hefty.
He shouldn’t be here, he should have never let you both goad him into this.
It occurs to Jean that he needs some air; the apartment feels suffocatingly small knowing that both of you are only a few layers of plaster and a door away. He pushes through regret and self-doubt, pulling his sweatpants back on and scrounging around in his laundry basket of unfolded, clean clothes to find a shirt.
“What are you doing?” Eren’s suddenly in the doorway, scowling at him.
“Going out.”
“You worked this morning. What, do you have plans or something?” There’s a clear note of annoyance in Eren’s voice, but Jean’s too exhausted and shaky to look into it.
“Jean?” You, Eren’s shadow as always, peer around his shoulders, a cute little furrow of confusion between your brows. “Where are you going?”
Jean nearly growls in frustration, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Out. I’m going out.”
He hates the way you flinch, grab onto Eren’s hand for stability in the wake of his snapping at you. Eren speaks next, but Jean doesn’t recognize his tone; it’s firm, but somehow, it’s lacking Eren’s perpetually angry intonation.
“Sit.” Eren’s got one finger pointed to the bed, ordering him as if this isn’t Jean’s own room. He drags you over behind him, plopping on the bed as if you all do this every day. Jean glares at Eren, softens his eyes at the way you’re looking up at him invitingly.
“We just want to talk a little,” you pat the comforter, smiling softly. That breaks him, and against Jean’s better judgment, he’s sitting where you’ve indicated, t-shirt still fisted in his hands.
“About?”
“We don’t want you to think– well, this…” Eren gestures his hands between the three of you, frowning deeper, and eventually sighing, “I don’t know how to say it.”
You pick up for Eren, smiling at him. “We don’t want you to feel like you’re out of place here, that’s all.”
Jean cocks an eyebrow. “In my own bedroom?”
“No, asshole,” Eren rolls his eyes, “with…with us.”
“What does that mean?” Jean’s heart nearly stops. A small, soft hand over his makes his breath catch in his throat.
“We’re not, like, experienced with this, so maybe we’re doing this whole thing wrong,” you look to Eren anxiously, who nods at you reassuringly, “but…we have room for you. If you’re open.”
“Like…” Jean barely trusts his voice to carry above a breath, “in what sense?”
“It’s not just sex,” Eren mumbles, flushing pink, “to us, at least.”
“We like you,” you clarify, smiling again, “and however you want us, if you want us, at least, you can have us.”
Jean blinks stupidly, looks to Eren to see if his face betrays anything, anything that could explain the conversation taking place, if it’s a joke, if he’s unsure. To his surprise, Eren looks up at him, green eyes earnest and burning into his, and takes the t-shirt out of Jean’s hands, giving one of Jean’s hands to you and taking the other for himself.
“It works,” Eren says, finding some conviction, “whatever you want to call it, this works.”
“For both of you?” Jean can hardly believe his ears, can hardly fathom the feeling of your soft, delicate little fingers and Eren’s calloused palms wrapped around his hands.
“For both of us. But…does it? For you?” Your voice wavers, your nerves betraying you.
“I mean, I don’t know what it is. I don’t understand it,” Jean admits, positive that his eyes are comically wide in the face of this new information.
“Me neither,” Eren shrugs, “but we don’t have to be so serious about it–”
“Not for now at least,” you smile at Eren encouragingly, nodding and urging him to press on.
“Not for now,” Eren agrees, squeezing Jean’s fingers ever so slightly, the smallest, most tentative reassurance, “we can figure it out later.”
“If you want it,” you bite your lip, looking up at Jean through thick lashes, “want us. We won’t be upset if you say no. No pressure.”
Jean thinks for a moment, thinks about everything you’re offering him. You, who he’s pined after for months, so beautiful and sweet to him. He thinks about sharing coffee with you in the mornings, holding you tight to his body and drifting off to sleep, letting you play with his hair. He doesn’t know if he loves you, but whatever he feels is pretty damn close to it, close enough to drive him crazy and keep him up at night.
And Eren. He’s been friends with Eren for near a decade now, known him for as long as he can remember. What this agreement means in terms of his relationship with Eren, Jean hardly dares to press, knowing how Eren is: flighty, argumentative, brash. None of that is written into Eren’s features now, though; Eren’s watching him intently, earnestly, chest stilled as if he’s holding his breath, waiting for Jean’s answer.
Something old and something new mixed together into something entirely unfamiliar.
“We don’t have to put a label on it now, or even go through the semantics,” Eren’s voice is spent, nearly breathless.
“We’ll give you some space if you need–”
“No,” Jean cuts you off, looking between you both, “no, it’s– it’s just a surprise, that’s all.”
Eren snorts. “How many times do we need to fuck you before you get the hint?”
“Eren!” You slap his arm, looking between him and Jean meaningfully. “Not really the time for jokes, is it?”
“I mean, fucking in the bathroom of Scout’s isn’t exactly wining and dining me,” Jean rolls his eyes. Eren laughs at that, unintentionally tightening his grip around Jean’s fingers and making Jean’s heart thud a little in his chest.
“You two are beyond annoying,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Eren and Jean exchange a wicked smirk.
“Regretting this already?” Eren teases you, digging his fingers into your side and making you giggle.
“Get over here,” Jean pulls you onto his lap, feeling emboldened to press a quick succession of kisses to your jawline, to your cheek. God, maybe he does love you, the weight of you in his arms feeling almost perfect. Eren leans over and tackles you both, tickling you wherever he can reach, Jean pinning you to his chest despite your protests and thrashing.
That’s what’s missing, Jean realizes. It’s not about you and Jean, or you and Eren, or he and Eren. He understands Eren’s bluntness earlier: the three of you just work, regardless of the weirdness of it all or the awkward conversations that lay ahead. It works, and for now, that’s enough.
Eren relents in his torture, scooting up the bed and dragging you with him, pulling Jean’s covers over you both like he’d done it a hundred times. Jean’s last little inkling of self-doubt perseveres, and he hesitates, until Eren tosses the covers on your other side back, patting the sheets meaningfully. Jean swallows his pride, swallows his insecurity, and pulls you into his side, very mindful of Eren’s arm tossed over both of your shoulders, of Eren’s fingers weaving absentmindedly through the hair at the nape of his neck.
And in the morning, when Eren mimics Jean’s loud snoring and you’re playfully throwing little crumbs of toast at them over the counter, the little voice in Jean’s head that had warned him to keep his distance will be completely silenced for the first time in months.
#eren jaeger x you#eren jaeger x reader#eren jaeger smut#jean kirschstein x reader#jean kirschtein x reader#jean#jean kirstein x reader#jean kirstein x you#eren yeager x reader#eren yeager smut#eren yeager x you#theragethatisdesire
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“freak-a-leek” by petey pablo for a jean and eren threesome if that’s okay plz
Freek-A-Leak
Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader x Jean Kirstein
Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Word Count: ~1.9k
cw: modern setting au, explicit language, p*rn w/no plot, smut – threesome, PIV sex (missionary), cunnilingus, blowjob, sex toy use, masturbation, cum-eating, dirty talk, sex without a condom, pet names (baby, sweetheart), reader has multiple orgasms, creampies, just some overall smutty silliness
Summary: You’re on a business trip with the two cockiest salesmen in your department: Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein. After a long day of dealing with them clashing over the silliest things, you decide to unwind in your hotel room the best way you know how.
Author’s Note: This is the last song on the y2k karaoke party playlist! Thank you so much for the request anon! I had fun with this! It’s all horny and just plain silly, so I hope you like it. Thank you so much for reading! MDNI divider by @/cafekitsune.
It’s almost 10 PM when you finally make it back to your hotel room, completely spent from today’s activities. It’s the first day of the conference here in Marley and being stuck in the middle of Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein has proven to be much more exhausting than you anticipated.
You’re not completely convinced you needed to come on this business trip with them. After all, they’re the top two salesmen in your department, and this conference is solely for selling your product to new customers. Your boss, Hangë, encouraged you, the lead design engineer, to tag along in case they needed any technical support while demonstrating the ODM equipment. You were reluctant at first, but when they emphasized the fact that this trip would be completely paid for, including the lodging and food, how could you refuse?
Unfortunately for you, because of the two clashing personalities between Jean and Eren, you ended up playing mediator throughout the day rather than engineer. The two bickered as usual, from where to eat, to what side of the table they wanted to stand on. In front of the customers, they were professional and charismatic, no hint of animosity lingering around them. As soon as it was the three of you alone, it was nonstop arguing and snide remarks, with you doing your best to either ignore it or alleviate it until the next fight arose.
Luckily for you, Hangë set you up with your own room at the hotel while the other two shared the one right beside you. There’s an adjoining door for easy access into each other’s space and Jean begs you to open it when you first check in, not wanting a single moment alone with his temporary roommate. But after today’s festivities, you’re desperate for some private time by yourself.
Jean steps into your room, leaning against the doorframe. “So, should we watch a movie?” he suggests, still in his dress shirt, tie loosened around his collar.
Eren appears behind him, on his tip-toes to get your attention. “Why don’t we play video games instead?”
You yawn, shooing them away. “I’m exhausted, so I’m going to sleep.”
You try to shut the door on them, but Jean pushes back, persistent. “You’re not seriously going to leave me alone with him, are you?” He points his thumb to the man behind him.
Eren scoffs. “I don’t want to be alone with you either!”
“Dude, you are breathing down my neck! Give me some space.”
“Then move so I can talk to her!”
“It’s not your turn to talk!”
“Guys!” you yell, losing your patience. “I am tired. Try to get along so we can all get some sleep. Please?”
They grumble to themselves, shoving elbows at each other before they finally leave you alone, closing the door to give you your peace. You don’t bother locking in, certain they won’t be bothering you the rest of the night.
After a nice, hot shower, you get comfortable in your pajamas, rummaging through one of your pouches until you find what you’re looking for. After a long day with those two goofballs, the best way for you to relieve stress is to have a little playtime. You carry your vibrator with you to bed, one ear bud in, and your favorite naughty audio ready to play on your phone. Only five minutes in, with the fluttering tip pressed to your clit, it doesn’t take long for you to orgasm. Ready for another, you get distracted by the muffled voices of your neighbors, bickering once again. You pop your ear bud out, trying to hear whatever dumb topic they’re arguing about now. The toy is still vibrating in your hands, the tip wet with your arousal. You let your imagination wander, thinking of Jean and Eren just on the other side of the wall. Hot, heated, raring to go. Fantasizing about the nasty, filthy things they could do to you if they knew just how horny you are, pent up with sexual frustration from all the testosterone you were surrounded with today.
Suddenly, the door swings open and Eren stomps into the room, shouting your name. “Who do you find more annoying, me or him?!” Jean follows right on his tail, trying to grab him by the collar of his undershirt, hissing, “She’s sleeping, you dumbass!” They stop in their tracks, staring wide-eyed at you with your legs spread open on the bed, blanket shrugged off, vibrator buzzing in your hand. Completely exposed.
You quickly pull the covers over you, hiding the toy beneath your pillow, mortified. “What the fuck?!” you yell out to them.
Both of them gape at you, blushing all the way down to their necks, speechless for the first time all day. Their silence is louder than any squabbling they’ve done today, and you have no idea what to say to make this any less awkward than it already is.
Before you can think of another response, Eren clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey Jean. Bet I can make her come harder than you can.”
Jean glances at him, hesitant at first, then relaxes into a smirk. “Oh yeah? You’re on.”
Eren steps towards the bed, grinning at you. “What do you say? Will you help us?”
You stare at them, befuddled and also extremely intrigued by this offer. Deciding quickly, you nod at them, releasing the grip on the blanket. They both smile at you, putting a flutter in your belly. Eren laughs, tugging on the covers slowly. “Come on. You can’t hide from us now.”
Jean joins in, dragging it down your body until you’re on display again, pussy glistening from your first orgasm. They both swear under their breaths, Eren licking his lips while Jean bites his. “Fuck, did you already come?”
“Yeah, I did,” you answer, pussy aching to be touched by either one of them. Both of them.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Eren says, inching towards you. “You’re extra juicy for me, huh?”
“Why do you get to go first?” Jean butts in, scowling.
Eren positions himself at your arousal, his breath hot on your pussy as he replies, “I don’t want to lick your spit.”
“Well, I don’t want to lick yours either! Let me goes first.”
“Fuck you, I’m already here.”
“Then move!”
“Guys!” you cry out, bucking your hips, desperate for anything at this point. “Just hurry up and touch me. Please.”
Eren sticks his tongue out. “You heard her,” he muffles, licking circles around your clit. “Let’s make our girl feel good.”
Jean swallows hard, positioning himself beside you, puckering his lips around your nipples and sucking. You moan, arching your back off the bed, running your fingers through his hair. “Feels so good,” you whine, feeding your other breast to him. He latches on immediately, pulling your teat between his lips while Eren laps at your puffy clit. With your free hand, you grab hold of his hair, gripping it to pull him deeper into your cunt. Soon, you’re gushing on his face, rutting your hips against him while he swallows every drop of you.
“Fuck, you taste good,” Eren says, tongue prodding into your slit.
“I want a taste too,” Jean mutters, giving your nipple one last hard suck before he releases you with a wet pop.
“Not yet,” Eren murmurs, kissing the soft plush of your thighs.
Jean crawls to where he is, shoving him slightly to stick his face into your pussy. “It’s my turn, jackass.” He laps at your clit, determined to be better than his rival.
Eren laughs, collecting your slick slathered on his chin and lips with his fingers, licking it off. “Be honest, baby. Is he doing better than me?” He strips out of his bottoms, lying beside you, stroking his hard cock.
You squeeze your thighs around Jean’s head, bucking into his mouth, already close to your third climax. Your eyes go from Eren’s fist jerking himself off to Jean’s face shaking between your legs, eating you out feverishly. He teases a finger inside you and when you flutter around it, he slides in all the way, adding a second.
“No fair,” Eren breathes out, stroking himself faster.
Jean chuckles against your skin, sucking on your clit while he pumps his fingers in and out of you. You turn your head to face Eren, leaning towards him to kiss him sloppily. He cradles your cheek with his free hand, pulling you in deeper, tongue swirling around yours, slurping up your spit. Once again, you’re pushed over the edge, coming on Jean’s face this time, his nose pressed to your sensitive bud as he drinks up all the slick leaking out of you.
“Fuck me,” you beg, not directing it to anyone in particular.
Eren smiles against your mouth, licking your drool off the corners of your lips. “Go ahead, Jean. You can go first.”
Jean shoves his pants down, releasing his stiff cock, palming it. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” he says, kneeling next to your head, tracing your lips with the tip of his cock. “We’re having way too much fun right here, aren’t we sweetheart?” You nod in response, moaning around his dick as you sink your mouth on it, swallowing it until it’s to the back of your throat. “Fuck, you take it so good. You wanted to get fucked like this tonight, huh? Wanted to show us what a freak you are.”
Jean slides his cock inside you, stretching you out until he bottoms out. He spreads your legs apart, holding you open so he can pound straight into you. Eren’s focus goes from his own pleasure to his friend thrusting. “Fuck her harder, Jean.”
He obeys, picking up the pace, shoving himself deeper. You choke on your own moans, pulling off Eren to catch your breath. He cradles your face in his hands, massaging your cheeks tenderly. “You’re okay, sweetheart. Take a break. Just enjoy getting fucked by this fat cock.”
“Fuck,” Jean growls, closing his eyes. “I’m so close.”
Eren licks his lips, watching. “Don’t pull out. Fill her up.”
At that, Jean loses it, spurting his hot load inside you, your pussy fluttering around him. He pulls out, switching spots with Eren, snuggling up next to you to kiss you softly. You smile at him, whispering, “Thank you.”
He plants a smooch on your nose. “Thank you, baby.”
“Hey, don’t forget about me,” Eren says, guiding his hard cock inside you. “I’m going to fuck all this cum right back inside this cunt.”
You and Jean both moan, watching him fuck you with a devilish grin on his face. Jean reaches under the pillow, retrieving the toy you used earlier. “Can I use this on you?”
Incoherent and fucked out, you nod, desperate for whatever it is they want to offer to you. He presses the button, making the vibrator buzz in his grip, pressing the fluttering tip to your clit while Eren continues to ravish you. His eyes widen when he sees what Jean’s doing. “Oh shit. She’s squeezing me so fucking tight.”
You’re in a drunken daze, trembling all over your body from the pleasure, whimpering uncontrollably with Jean toying with your clit as Eren fucks your brains out. When you reach your final climax, Eren comes with you, burying his cum deep inside your womb. You’re stuffed to the brim with both their loads, feeling exhausted and euphoric.
Eren pulls out, cuddling up to your other side, kissing your forehead. Jean sets the vibrator aside, spooning you from the back. You relax in their arms, actually happy to be stuck in the middle of them for once.
After a moment of comfortable silence, Eren asks jokingly, “So…who won?”
“Obviously me,” Jean grins, kissing your neck.
You laugh, snuggling closer to the both of them. “I think I’m the real winner here.”
#eren jaeger x reader#eren jaeger smut#eren jaeger x you#jean kirstein x reader#jean kirstein smut#jean kirstein x you#eren x reader x jean#eren x reader smut#jean x reader smut#eren x reader#eren yeager smut#eren yeager x reader#eren x you#jean x reader#jean x you#aot smut#attack on titan smut#y2k karaoke party#milestone event#eren smut
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♡.°୭̥ ୨୧ attack on titan masterlist
choose your character
୨୧ eren
jealous eren ✯ nsfw alphabet ✯ eren choking his partner ✯ pussy drunk eren ✯ eren x child reader ✯ drinks on me ✯ car sex with eren ✯ eren with size kink ✯ eren teaching an insecure reader with hip dips how to love themselves ✯ with eren on a beach ✯ eren cheating with you on mikasa cheater eren ✯ cheater eren 2 ✯ being erens side piece ✯ gamer eren ✯ eren and armin taking your virginity ✯ eren with pda ✯ eren and mikasa as parents
୨୧ jean
highschool jean ✯ puppyboy jean ✯ threesome with jean and marco ✯ baby daddy jean ✯ creep jean ✯ heartbroken jean ✯ tired jean ✯ domestic jean ✯breeding kink jean ✯ reiner vs jean x gf in makeup ✯ jean when asking for seks ✯ jean with breeding kink ✯ jean being pussy drunk ✯ jean with goth gf ✯ jean x voyerism ✯ soft jean ✯ jean fucking you only with the tip ✯ jean and red lipstick ✯ cheater jean
୨୧ armin
mermaid armin ✯ little yandere armin ✯ librarian armin ✯ rough armin ✯ armin x succubus ✯ giving armin a sloppy blowjob ✯ wanting armin to be rougher ✯ giving armin a blowjob ✯ armin with a virgin gf ✯ teasing armin ✯ scratching armins back ✯ eren and armin taking your virginity ✯ virgin armin
୨୧ connie
connie with cat hybrid gf ✯ subby connie ✯ reiner and connie cuddling you to sleep ✯ connie fucking you throat ✯ connie fingering you ✯ connie loves your ass
୨୧ reiner
subby reiner ✯ more subby reiner ✯ bunnyboy reiner ✯ subby reiner plus thighs ✯ soft dom reiner ✯ facesitting with reiner ✯soccer captain reiner ✯ top 3 aot pussy eaters ✯ reiner vs jean x gf in makeup ✯ reiners titties ✯ teaching reiner how to kiss ✯ reiner with size kink ✯ reiner and connie cuddling you to sleep ✯ reiner with reader who likes mugs ✯ bertholdt and reiner with size ki nk
୨୧ erwin
dilf erwin ✯ erwin x somno ✯ threesome with erwin and levi
୨୧ levi
yandere levi ✯ jealous levi ✯ pussydrunk levi ✯ domming levi ✯ levi being a pervert ✯ levi with reader who likes mugs ✯ levi and big tummies ✯ chubby levi ✯ chubby levi 2 ✯ levi being too caught up with work ✯ having an argument with levi ✯ quickie with levi ✯ yandere levi 2 ✯ threesome with erwin and levi
୨୧ porco
step brother porco ✯ porco having a crush on his best friends sister ✯ porco and big tummies ✯ motor biker porco
୨୧ colt
little panty-stealer colt
୨୧ bertholdt
giving berthodt handjob for the first time ✯ date with berthodt ✯ bertholdt with yandere gf ✯ edging bertholdt ✯ spicy berthodt ✯ bertholdt and reiner with size ki nk
୨୧ zeke
training with zeke ✯ what happens after dinner?
୨୧ floch
dominating floch
୨୧ hange
hange in white lacy underwear ✯ fluffy hange ✯ subby hange ✯ coworker hange ✯ fingerfucking with hange ✯ hange eating out their virgin baby ✯ top 3 aot pussy eaters ✯ pretty boys birthday ✯ face sitting with hange ✯ too needy ✯ hange with a happy trail ✯ writing poems with hange ✯ falling asleep with hange ✯ modern high school hange ✯ sub hange x dom reader ✯ hange ordering you to touch yourself ✯ coworker hange 2
୨୧ pieck
pieck´s boobs ✯ having camgirl pieck as your roomate ✯ body-ody-ody pieck ✯ rich ceo pieck ✯ high pieck ✯ scissoring with pieck ✯ mommy pieck
୨୧ ymir
needy ymir ✯ top 3 aot pussy eaters ✯ historia x ymir x reader
୨୧ yelena
yelena with gun kink ✯ submissive yelena ✯ readers spicy story ✯ yelena fucking your face with her strap
୨୧ hitch
bestfriend hitch
୨୧ annie
annie´s doll ✯ threesome with mikasa and annie ✯ mikasa and annie corrupting you
୨୧ mikasa
mikasa eating you out over your underwear ✯ yandere roommate mikasa ✯ threesome with mikasa and annie ✯ subby mikasa ✯ breeding kink with mikasa (male!reader) eren and mikasa as parents mikasa and annie corrupting you ✯
mikasa teasing you ✯ mikasa x erens ex ✯ mikasa nsfw alphabet ✯ threesome with eren and mikasa
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BEST FRIENDS & BAD IDEAS
♡ — jean kirstein x f!reader
Big aspirations and even bigger dildos—in which a poorly thought out plan makes it incredibly hard to act like your feelings for Jean Kirstein are platonic. Not when they’re anything but. And especially not when you’re half naked in his lap.
18+ ONLY
wc — 2.7k
prompt — cockwarming, creampie
additional content — NSFW, 18+, best friends to lovers speed run, dildo use, implied masturbation, unprotected p in v, praise kink, jean kirstein’s big dick
╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist
“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” Jean growls, and his low, rough tone sends you off-kilter, shoving you headfirst over the precarious edge you’ve been foolishly dangling from.
In retrospect, perhaps this wasn’t the best idea.
–
In the long list of questionable decisions you’ve made today, one of the first catalysts guaranteeing inevitable disaster was your lack of foresight to lock your bedroom door before stripping off your shorts and underwear and preparing to lower yourself down onto the ridiculously large dildo that had been delivered in an even more comically large Amazon box this morning.
Your best friend of many years and college roommate, Jean Kirstein, came home just as your makeshift “stand”—you’d hastily attached the suction cup at the base of the dildo to the last clean plate in the cabinet for lack of a better surface—went flying across the rug, ripping the few inches you’d manage to ease down onto right out of your lube-slick channel. You’d hit the floor with a thud, growling in frustration. This, understandably, had the unfortunate effect of attracting the concern of said roommate, who swiftly burst into your room as if you were in the middle of being robbed.
The concern quickly morphed into hysterics as he spotted the giant purple dildo wiggling uselessly a few feet away from where you were lying on your stomach, punching the carpet and yelling at him to get out with as much dignity as you could muster.
“That’s my shirt,” he commented dryly, ignoring your pleas for him to forget everything he had just seen.
“Well it was in my drawer,” you spat back, trying to push the dildo-plate behind you, although the damage was already done.
Jean leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. “I have so many questions.”
“Our business hours are between 8 and 5, so you’ll have to call back tomorrow. Sorry,” you said with a dismissive wave, subtly kicking the plate and dildo beneath the bed.
The suction cup chose that moment to pop off, and all ten inches came rolling back into view right where a bar of sunlight was stretching across the floor from the window. It would have almost looked artsy.
If it weren’t a fucking dildo.
“I thought you ordered a lamp,” he observed mildly, motioning to the huge cardboard box you’d yet to take out to the recycling bin.
“I’m gonna order you a fleshlight if you don’t shut up,” you grumbled, shoving on a pair of sweatpants.
Jean crinkled his nose, running a hand through his hair. “That thing’s so big, the landlord might start charging us for three tenants if he sees it. Is this a cry for help?”
“I’m trying to prepare myself for seducing Eren at the party Saturday night,” you whisper-yelled, as if anyone else was going to overhear you in your otherwise empty apartment.
“Jaeger?!” he barked out with a disbelieving laugh.
“Everyone says he’s huge. I don’t want it to be a disaster.”
“He’s not that fucking big!” he exclaimed incredulously.
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Can you like, go be somewhere tonight? Go get so high with Conny you forget you saw anything? I’m gonna go try in the bathroom instead.”
“You’re kicking me out of my own apartment so you can shove a giant, sparkly purple dildo inside of yourself imagining it’s Jaeger’s dork ass?”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Jean.”
He groaned. “The bathroom sounds like an even worse idea. You’ll slip, hit your head on something, blood will go everywhere, and we’ll lose the security deposit.”
“Or my plan will work, I’ll get laid this weekend, and you can stop complaining about how grumpy I’ve been lately,” you reasoned matter-of-factly.
Jean’s hand came to rest on your shoulder as you attempted to push past him to leave the room, aforementioned dildo jiggling menacingly in your hand. “You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he said a little more softly, raising a brow as he cast another look at the offending object.
“I have lube!” you shot back defensively.
Jean glanced up at the ceiling, muttering something about regret under his breath before exhaling, “Let me help you.”
–
In all the years that you’ve known Jean, you’ve done an excellent job at keeping your little crush on him your best kept secret. A secret kept under the most formidable lock and key, buried deep in the depths of your psyche. Tucked away in the very back of a dusty, old cabinet like an expired can of corn.
Objectively, you know Jean’s handsome. You’re well aware.
With his intense, hazel eyes—ones that see everything.
His tall, solid form.
His sinfully curved, pink lips (and his habit of idly sliding his tongue along the bottom one).
His long, dexterous fingers—a dangerous thought.
That fucking mullet he let grow in, which shouldn’t be nearly as sexy as it is when he rolls right out of bed and leaves his room looking like a pillow-rumpled supermodel.
He’s hot, okay?
And sure, you’ve drunkenly kissed at a few parties over the years. Jean’s seen your ass more times than you can count. Definitely your boobs that time he ran into the bathroom to puke while you were showering. Sometimes he has a habit of putting his head on your lap when you’re both on the couch, nudging you till you card your hands through his soft brown hair like a damn dog.
But it’s always been platonic.
Friendly.
Two people who are just very, very comfortable with one another. Comfortable in knowing that neither intends to ruin their stable, solid friendship by carelessly sprinkling feelings into the mix.
Comfortably going so far as to share the sordid details of your sex lives (or lack thereof, lately) while leaning against the kitchen counter eating take out food without batting an eye—though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t try to one up him sometimes when you feel that familiar, unwelcome twinge of jealousy yawning awake inside of you.
But this?
This is asking too much of your restraint to keep your heart walled off and your mouth clamped shut. In your defense, it was already left in pitiful tatters after grinning-and-bearing it throughout the seven-month-long nightmare that was Jean dating fucking Pieck.
—
The next phase of your slew of terrible ideas today began with Jean sitting at the head of your bed, back against the wall, holding the dildo between his legs. Like your own personal fucking dildo holder. Grinning like this wasn’t the single most awkward thing the two of you have ever done (save for the time you both fell asleep with your head in his lap on the couch and woke up to his accidental boner poking you in the ear—neither of you ever mentioned that again).
And it would have been totally fine if it worked out like you imagined in your head the moment he pitched it—you sinking down onto the silicone schlong a few times, stuffing in as much as you could while he held it still. Then letting him carry on with his day while you lay there in bed for a little while with it lodged inside of you, getting yourself used to the stretch. Totally fine.
The reality of the situation was far different, entailing a sticky, slippery mess of lube coating of your hands and a dildo that bent and flopped in every direction as you tried to carefully impale yourself on it while maintaining some sense of dignity.
You had given up fairly quickly, butting your head against Jean’s collarbone and sighing as you asked if he thought Eren would go slow.
He was quiet for a moment.
“…do you trust me?” Jean had asked carefully, like his next suggestion wasn’t going to send you spiraling.
Like “Just sit on my dick, as a friend!” wasn’t the most fucking confusing statement your heart, brain, and vagina had ever heard.
–
Which is how you find yourself in your current predicament, straddling Jean Kirstein’s lap with far more inches of him than you’d realized he’d been keeping tucked away buried to the hilt in the velvety heat between your thighs. Raw, skin-to-fucking-skin, because you’re both in a miserable dry spell with not a single condom to be found between the two of you. And somehow the combination of “known you for half of my life” and “just got tested” and “IUD” sounded better than one of you being tasked with trudging to the pharmacy.
Or, god fucking forbid, going down one floor to ask Conny for one.
Nope.
You have three days to prepare yourself for whatever may come with Eren, so sitting on your best friend’s intimidatingly large dick sans condom the least of your worries. Even if it feels so incredible you’re literally silently choking on the moan threatening to spill past your lips.
Even if you fucking swear you heard his breath hitch when the thick head of his cock began to slip past your entrance, stretching you open wide as he breached your damp channel.
Even if he hardly had to touch himself to get hard for this.
Even if his gaze darkened when you choked out, “Jean, your dick is huge.”
This was a terrible idea.
“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”
“Doing what?!” you ask, exasperated.
He rests his hands on your waist, “Doing this,” and squeezes firmly, “on my dick.”
“This isn’t even sex,” you tell him, ignoring the way the close proximity of his hazel eyes sets a flurry of emotion stuttering in your chest. “It’s like, cockwarming at best. You can’t come from cockwarming if you’re not even turned on.”
Jean raises an eyebrow. “Do you even know how tight you are?”
“That’s obviously why I was worried about Ere—”
“It’s like this,” he cuts you off, wrapping a hand around your throat. It’s a loose hold, only meant to prove a snarky point, but a spark of arousal seeps through your body anyway at the mere suggestion. His eyes widen a fraction at the traitorous way your walls clamp down on him even harder in response. “What, you into being choked?”
“I’m into a lot of things, Jeanie,” you tell him haughtily, trying to ignore the heat blistering beneath your skin.
“Like dumb idiots named Eren Jaeger?” he counters, making to grab for the tongue you’re currently sticking out at him.
If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think Jean sounds like he’s jealous.
Which he definitely isn’t.
But you poke the bear anyway.
“What, are you jealous?”
He shifts slightly, and you bite your lip to stifle the moan as your cunt spasms around the pressure from his cock.
If he notices, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, his brow furrows as the corners of his mouth tilt downward slightly. “I just think you deserve better.”
You tug on his earlobe, letting out a weak laugh in an attempt to dispel the sticky, messy feeling of hope trying desperately to cling to the arousal stirring in your gut. “Says the guy who’s currently fucking me.”
Jean scoffs and deadpans, “I thought this wasn’t sex.”
Who are you kidding? Certainly not the tension coiling ruthlessly in your abdomen.
You move a little, trying and failing to relieve the sensation of hot wax dripping down your spine. Instead, you let out a tiny, strangled noise when your throbbing clit presses down against his pelvis, the resulting flood of pleasure setting every nerve ending in your body on fire.
The way he growls out your name through gritted teeth is a warning, but his low tone only serves to stoke the flames licking their way up between your thighs.
You move again, inhaling sharply through your nose.
“Fuck,” he groans quietly, head hitting the wall behind him with a resounding thud.
You’re not sure if he does it on purpose, but his hands find their way back to your hips, calloused fingertips pressing directly against your skin as he slides them up beneath your shirt. His shirt.
The next time you rock against him, his grip on you tightens. And then, you feel it—he tugs you forward.
You lean further into him, without really meaning to, forehead coming to rest against his. “What are we…”
“Just keep going,” he murmurs.
He shifts again, sinking down lower so his back is pressed against the mattress, and you realize the angle gives you more purchase to grind down against him when he pulls at your waist, thumbs lazily skimming your hip bones.
“Jean…” you whisper, not really sure what else you intend to say.
“I want you to feel good,” he says softly, pushing his hips against you, even though he’s snugly bottomed out.
It feels so fucking good—
—laying atop Jean while he stares back up at you, pupils clearly dilated in arousal—
—watching his eyes fall shut as you run a hand along the stubble on his jaw—
—knowing he’s well aware the slickness between your legs is no longer from the lube, your cunt gushing with arousal at the feeling of being stuffed deep with his thick cock.
So you tell yourself you’ll figure the rest out later when you start to shamelessly grind down against him.
“You don’t have to be quiet for me,” Jean teases when you cough to cover up a gasp.
Your answering moan is nearly a whimper, and Jean’s muscles tense beneath you as he continues to guide your hips. He doesn’t try to pull his cock out from where it’s lodged inside of you, doesn’t start thrusting and fucking up into you. He just lets you chase the clitoral stimulation you so desperately need while you’re cockwarming him, groaning along with you at each needy drag.
“Good girl, that’s it.”
This is far more intimate than you bargained for, the gentle slide of his hands up your back scraping your heart out bit-by-bit.
“Holy shit, you don’t know how close I am to coming right now,” he moans in a gravelly, unsteady tone.
All you can do is whimper his name when the rubber band suddenly snaps in response, your body trembling as a wave of white-hot pleasure crashes over you.
And then Jean’s hands are cupping your face, his lips crashing into yours. He kisses you fiercely as you whine and shudder through your orgasm, moaning into your mouth as you card your fingers through his hair. You can feel his cock throb inside of you, pulsing with need as your tight cunt spasms and contracts, relentlessly squeezing his shaft while you soak him with your release.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he’s groaning, both of you too drunk on pleasure to move when he suddenly climaxes, cock pumping thick, hot ropes of cum deep in your pussy.
Chests heaving, Jean slowly sits up, forehead falling against your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist.
After a few minutes of silence, he finally murmurs, “Don’t fuck Jaeger.”
You tilt his head upward, finger resting just below his chin, skimming the stubble that’s there. Too many emotions are swimming in his hazel eyes, more than you can identify—save for one that you recognize with a jolt of clarity. It’s the way you look at him, when he’s not paying attention.
Longing.
Desire.
Soft, gentle, unfiltered affection.
This time, you’re the one to close the distance between your mouths, brushing your lips against his.
“Who?” you ask, smiling into the kiss.
Jean chuckles, the sound like warm honey, and he deepens the kiss, one hand sliding to the back of your head. Though you remain seated on his softening length, cum begins to seep from your slick heat, pooling on his balls and abdomen.
He goes to move, but you don’t budge. “You wanna get cleaned up?”
You shake your head, the corner of your mouth tilting upward with a smirk. “I’m comfortable.”
Jean bites his lower lip, huffing, “My cum’s dripping all over, and I’m two seconds from getting hard again if you keep squeezing down on me like that.”
Feigning a look of innocence, you flex the muscles in your tight, soaked channel one more time for good measure. He chokes, and you grin.
“Good.”
— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!
#jean kirstein x reader#jean kirschtein x reader#jean kirstein#jean kirschtein#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#snk#aot#aot smut#attack on titan smut#jean kirstein smut#dee writes
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how to fight
roommate eren x f!reader
battleships sink beneath the waste (of you and eren)
**read the mini series masterlist here
content warning: baby (LOL), porco + pieck softness, porco x y/n family feud, someone calls hitch a snitch, fight between u and eren :(
an: sorry for da holdup. I was trying to map out how I want the rest of the things to go before I write the rest of the chapters but I think i’ve got most of it down. fun things in store :D and for the anons who are requesting scenes and dialogue for this story in the ask box....all in good time you guys. im taking very detailed notes keep it coming.
previous part linked here
-
You lean over, pressing your fingers against the side of Ethan’s cheek, his breath ghosting against your hand. You swear he gets bigger every time you see him, his tiny hands huge compared to when you saw him last. Therapy is expensive, your best friend's newborn baby is free.
Porco’s big eyes, Pieck’s soft nose - the perfect mix of the two people you love the most. Something about him - his life being confined to Porco, Pieck, and occasionally you and Gabi- was soothing. He doesn’t have to worry about these things - about your friends ditching you, having a crush on your roommate, who is dating a girl you can’t help but hate.
You hear Ethan’s breathing hitch in his sleep, the thought leaving your mind, as he turns over on his side to face you. His fingers are clutched around yours, his hold soft. You silently wonder what else he’ll inherit from them. Pieck’s smile, Porco’s ashy blonde hair, the distinct Galliard dimples.
“Why are you staring at my kid like that?”
You turn to find Porco glaring at you, his permanent ever annoyed look pressed on his face. He’s going to get wrinkles by the time he’s thirty.
“Praying he doesn’t get your receding hairline, Galliard.” you whisper, your hand moving back to Ethan’s little tuft of hair.
“I get you’re having some whole crisis thing but do you have to take it out on me? You’re freeloading in my house right now.”
At the sound of Porco’s voice, significantly louder than your quiet whispers, Ethan eyes immediately flutter open, his tiny little cries filling up the space of the room.
“Good job, Pock. Now he’s crying.”
“Shut up.”
Porco rolls his eyes at you, reaching to take Ethan from the crib. He’s lifted him up, whispering soft coos into his ears as Pieck rushes in the room, her fingers swiping the tears off of Ethan’s cheeks. Sparkling black hair, soft smile - the same as when you met her.
After a few minutes, Ethan calms down, his tiny little eyes fluttering back to sleep. You take him from Porco, who begrudgingly hands him over, and set him back down in his crib. You linger for a few seconds, your face pressed against his crib as you watch his listen to his breaths, his tiny chest moving up and down with each one. You only move when you’re forced to - by Pieck linking her arm with yours, leading you downstairs.
“Who woke him up?”
“Twerp.”
“Pock.”
You both turn to glare at each other, as Pieck hands you the plates to set at the table. You and Porco move around each other, shoving each other each time you pass by.
“He’s trying to kick me out. After I so graciously dropped everything to come spend time with you guys. Babysat your kid for free.”
“He’s your godson. You should have come sooner. And stop using my kid to run away from your problems, Y/N.”
Three days ago, Eren told you that he thought the two of you were a mistake. That he was dating the girl who in all senses of the word was everything you weren’t and he had been. Off and on, for a while. Screw you for wanting to get away from that, be surrounded by two people who actually wanted you around.
You couldn’t face Eren. You couldn’t handle him making you breakfast in the morning, listening to the music you liked, brushing his hand against yours when he walked past you. So you decided you weren’t going to. Not until you had to.
So you picked up your keys and drove two hours to Marley, to visit Porco and Pieck. And their five month old son, Ethan. Your godson.
“Leave her alone, Porco.”
Pieck squeezes your shoulder as the three of you settle into the table to eat. You can feel the tears rising to your eyes, the thought of returning and leaving the little bubble you were in for the past few days, to find Hitch and Eren in your apartment.
“I just wanted to see you guys. You always made me feel better. Ethan too.”
You look up to find Porco looking at you, his expression uncharacteristically soft. Somehow his annoyed face is better than this.
“Hey. Want me to beat him up, twerp?”
“You can’t hit a girl, Porco.”
“Clean out your earwax. I meant your roommate, but I can get Snitch if you want too. Pieck’s got real bony knuckles, I’m sure it would hurt.”
“It’s Hitch, honey.”
“Same thing. Who names their kid a verb?”
“Pock, a lot of names are verbs. Like Bob or Sue.”
“Being a smartass isn’t a good look on you babe.”
You press the back of your hands against your cheek, wiping your tears off, as you laugh at Pieck and Porco’s bantering. You don’t miss the way Porco tangles his hand into hers, Porco raising Pieck’s hand to press a kiss to it to shut her up. You remember the first time he did it, on that stupid bench you met them on years ago.
Pieck moved into the house across from you, when you were in the third grade. She was four years your senior, a very cool seventh grader. You distinctly remember her marching over to your yard, big black combat boots, right to where you were playing with Gabi.
You saw her the next day at school, her ankles tangled over each other as she sat alone on the bench outside your classroom. Alone. You walked over, pushing yourself into the seat next to hers.
“Hi Pieck.”
“Hey kid. Enjoying recess?”
You nodded, playing with the ends of your hair as she looked down at you. Some part of her was always intimidating. Like she was ice cold. But the way she smiled was soft, the lines by her eyes spreading when she did. Contradicting, in every sense of the matter.
“Yeah. Did you make any friends yet?”
“Just one. His name’s Porco.”
“Don’t you want more?”
“Not really. He’s all I need. Him and you, of course.”
You remember your heart swelling in your chest - the thought of a seventh grader, big and mighty, wanting to be friends with you. The two of you sat in silence, swinging the ends of your legs on the bench.
You had always appreciated that about Pieck, even at eight years old - that the two of you could sit in the quiet, without having to say anything. Porco idled by a few minutes later, taking the seat directly next to Pieck.
“Who’s the twerp?”
“My friend, Porco. This is Y/N.”
He nods, wordlessly splitting the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he had in half and handing one piece of it to Pieck. You never understood it, the gesture. Or when they started dating. You just remember one day, their hands were pressed together on the bench. They never let go after that.
You’ve tried to make sense of it. At their wedding, right before Pieck walked down the aisle, you turned to Porco and asked him why he gave her half of his sandwich, sat with her on the bench, pressed his hand against hers. You figured he’d say something cheesy you can tell his ugly kids.
“I just felt like I knew her forever. I saw her on the field, staring at the sky, and just wanted to be near her.”
You still didn’t understand, but you nodded, turning your head back down the aisle that Pieck was going to walk down in a few seconds.
“Don’t settle till you find that guy.”
“Which one, Pock?”
“The one who knows the second he meets you.”
“You’re corny. I hope your vows are better than this.”
And they were. You feel Pieck reach over the table, crushing your knuckles in her hand. You look up at the two of them, at the soft little life they live. Sweet tea in the summer, hands pressed together, no other people involved. Except for you, of course.
“I’ll leave after dinner, guys. I should go back anyway. But I might come back the second I see him.”
“I’ll leave the door open, kid.”
“Thanks Pock.”
You feel the tears welling up in your eyes, again, this time falling down your cheeks. The two of them get up from their chairs, their arms around yours. You squeeze their arms, focusing on this sensation as you brace yourself for your return home.
Therapy’s expensive, but violent threats and your best friends are free.
-
You jam your door into the key, making it back to Shiganshina a little close to midnight. You thank your stars for Eren’s soccer practices being early in the morning, which virtually guarantees he’ll already be fast asleep in his room.
You swing the door open, flicking on the hallway light as you silently move around. You find that the apartment is slightly messier than usual, Eren’s things strewn all across the room. You leave for three days and he thinks he owns the place.
As you move to put the dirty dishes in the sink, you hear Eren’s door swing open immediately, cursing yourself for choosing the loudest chore to complete. You should have just put his hoodies in the laundry or something.
“Y/N?”
His voice is hoarse, like he’s struggling to get the words out. You look up and find him inches away from you, his arms pressed into the chair. His green eyes are marked by a rim of pink, his shoulders slumped over.
“Hey Eren.”
He leans over, pressing his forehead against your shoulder and squeezing. His eyes are still half closed, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. You can smell his minty soap wafting off of him and lean back against the counter to distance yourself from it.
“Am I imagining you or are you really here?”
“Really here, Eren.”
You feel his hands tense on your shoulders, his fingers lightly pushing into your skin.
“I haven’t seen you in three days.”
“I went to see Porco and Pieck for the weekend.”
“It’s Tuesday. You could have at least let me know before you left.”
You hum in acknowledgement, still rinsing the dishes in the sink. You try to focus on the sensation, the warm water splashing against your wrists and the cold plates against your hands. You try to ignore his words, each one leaving stinging, burning, agony in your chest. You’d run back to Porco and Pieck’s now if he wasn’t standing right there. Even the smell of him is petrifying.
You feel him forehead get heavier on your shoulder, pushing farther into you.
“I was worried about you.”
Screw him. Screw him, his stupid words, his sweet smell, and his sad little face for making you feel this way. For wanting to reach forward and press yourself against him till he felt better. For him to wrap his arms around you, press featherlike kisses to your cheeks until you felt better too. You shrug him off, the movement making him stand up straight.
“Sorry Eren.”
“It’s okay. You wake up Porco and Pieck with your morning concert while you were there?”
You clench the plate pressed in your hands so hard it shatters, the glass spreading across the length sink.
“Screw you, Eren.”
“What?”
“I’m so sick of you making fun of me all the time. If something I do annoys you, you should just tell me instead of making passive aggressive comments.”
You watch the confusion spread across his face, as he leans over to take your hands out of your sink, where the shards were still lying against the drain. You pull your hands back, pressing them into your sides as you can feel your searing growing in your chest - in anger, irritation, hurt.
“Hey, what happened? You could never annoy me, peaches. I was just teasing you.”
You shake your head, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. No. You were not going to cry in front of him.
“Hey, hey. Talk to me. What happened?”
“You happened. I’m not something for you to laugh at Eren. I have feelings too, you know?”
You push past him, swiping your things off the counter, and slamming your door shut behind you. You feel bad about it, leaving him there when he was just trying to comfort you. But that’s just the thing. The hand that burned you can’t make it better, can it?
-
next part linked here
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Assertive
Rugby boyfriend!Eren x fem!reader
collage au, possessive but in an infatuated boyfriend type of way. Size differences are mentioned. No matter your size, Eren is bigger than you. (Note: going to be more active now that Aot is ending. Feel free to send requests ♡)
I don’t mind if you’re ignoring me, cuz I’m ignoring you. “ he watches you bounce around the room in your thin, white nightdress.
You continue looking for your phone, ignoring him. There’s no way you haven’t searched every inch of his dorm room by now, so you finally look at him. He’s laying on the bed shirtless, hands behind his neck, looking at you innocently. That f’ckin bastard.
“Do you have my phone, Eren?”
He flashes his teeth, “ugh, baby, you have no idea how nice it is to hear your voice again. C’mere.” he pats his lap.
You sternly put your hand on top of your hip, arching it to the side, giving Eren the perfect view. “Do you have it or not?” He doesn’t even try to hide his smirk.
”Do I? I'm not sure. You should come over and look,” stretching his arms out in an inviting pose.
Earlier, Eren’s roommate, Floch, made a joke about how he can hear when you and Eren are having sex. When you told Eren, he rushed out of the room and ordered Floch to apologize. Completely scolding him like a dad. You felt embarrassed since you didn’t want his friends to think you can’t take a joke.
You know he’s just going to grab and pull you towards him, so instead, you start walking towards the door. Eren tenses immediately and rushes towards you,
‘’Hey, hey” he grabs your hand. ”where do you think you’re going?’’ he questions with furrowed eyebrows.
‘’To ask if the guys have they’ve seen it?’’
His eyes flash red for a second. To have his friends see the outline of your nipples through that thin fabric of your so called pajamas? He looks you up and down, nope, not happening. You should be wearing his t-shirts to bed anyway.
‘’Not like that, you’re not,’’ he gives you an ‘’end of discussion’’ look, but you huff and turn anyway. Not that you get far at all, he has you slung over his shoulders before you’ve even fully turned.
The con of having a rugby player as a boyfriend is that he throws you around a lot without so much as breaking a sweat. When you’re mad at him, he has this irritating habit of lifting you off the ground and cuddling you until you’ve cooled down. Claiming it “breaks his heart watching you walk away angry.”
He walks towards the bed, ignoring your fists punching at his back. “You’re such a brat sometimes.” He doesn't mind at all though, Eren has the patience of a saint when it comes to his girl, he enjoys being the one to set you straight.
He carefully lies you down on his bed, positions himself on top and grins, ‘’gotcha,’’ then smacks a kiss on your cheek. ‘’You’re annoying.” you pinch his ear in retaliation.
“Ow, hey, you know you’re stronger than you look.” he scratches his reddened ear. ‘’I'm being deadass, baby, you could go pro in armwrestling or some shit.’’ You burst out laughing over how dramatic he’s being and his eyes lit up from the sound. Your smile always captivates him.
Feeling yourself being stared at, you grin cheekily, unable to hide your smile “weirdo, stop staring,’’ brushing your fingers against his stubble. His eyes follow the movement of your hand and begin tracing the shape of your figure when all of a sudden he starts attacking you in tickles.
You’re both advancing on each other playfully, laughing hysterically. In an attempt to roll out of his reach, Eren quickly reacts by by grabbing your hands and pins them above your head. The laughter is quickly replaced with heavy pants as you stare at him naively, your chest rising up and down.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he lets go of his grip and rests his head on your chest, “you know, it doesn’t matter if you’re mad. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable staying here.’’ he gently admits, then lifts his head,
‘’plus, I’m the only one who has a say about you in bed.” he wiggles his eyebrows.
“Gross,’’ you push his chest, apparently amusing him by the look on his face. ‘‘but it’s fine, really. I just wanted to ignore the situation, but I guess he should learn that not everything needs to be said.’’ At this, he grins and takes ahold of your chin,
‘’that’s a good girl.’’
You ignore the heat rising in your face and smack his hand away when you suddenly remember, ‘’speaking off, where is my phone? You know I need to do my nightly routine check.’’
He knows. It’s the reason he slipped it under his pillow the moment you started throwing a fit. It’s nice having the most predictable girl on the planet. ‘’You can do it later, let a man enjoy his girl for a moment. You can be mad at me after.’’
‘’I'm not mad at you’’ you look genuinely offended, causing him to snicker. “Besides, I kinda liked the whole sexy, scolding dad thing you had going on. It was kinda turning me on,” you admit, looking straight into his eyes.
His hands on your hips stiffen instantly and his whole demeanor changes. “Don’t even joke, [name] I will put a baby in you right this second,” large hands grab your ass and starts grinding your body against his.
You attempt to leave but he drags you right back, looking at you confused. Looking down, you purr, “I really need to do my routine check,” sticking out your lower lip for extra effect.
You love to rile him up and have him mock you for being greedy and bratty. His face gets closer to yours with his eyebrows all furrowed.
“Did you just pout at me?”
“Nuh uh,” you lie and tease your hand against his belt, Eren’s eyes follow your movements then trace back up to your face, where you’re innocently meeting his eyes.
He grabs a fistful of your hair and looks down at your hand playing against his bulge. ‘’You wanna get fucked?’’ he spits with disgust, or admiration. It’s hard to tell with him.
“Know you enjoy keeping me on edge, acting all innocent when we both know,” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes lingering just a second too long on your lips. Thoughts on ways to tame you running wild in his head.
‘’Telling me it turned you on when I was commanding,’’ he shakes his head as if disappointed.‘’It's good I’m here to keep you in line. A girl like you needs that.’’
You feel the imprint of him on your stomach as his hips press you down on the bed, leaving you no space to leave. You try your best to keep your voice steady. “Just wanna make you happy,’ you breathe out. He almost laughs.
“You know what would make me happy?‘’ Eren stands and lifts you up with him.
‘’you with my cock in your mouth.” You almost go limp in his arms from how lewd he's being.
Giving you an expectant look, he nudges your nose with his, “are you waiting for something? get to work.” he guides you down on your knees towards his crotch. The carnal look in his eyes makes you fumble a bit with his belt, but Eren is patient. Sometimes you suspect he enjoys seeing you nervous to perform for him.
Pressing a kiss on the tip, he returns his gratitude by patting your hair in a domineering act, “make me proud.’’ he smiles, in which you relish. Keeping eye contact, you swirl your tongue around his shaft before hollowing your cheeks and start working your way down. You can’t help but gag at his size, no matter how often you blow him.
It’s been quiet for some time now and you’re growing impatient with the lack of praise. You decide to look up at him through the tears in your eyes and catch him smiling down at you. The scene feels so filthy you can’t help but slyly drag your fingers over your panties to relieve some of the pressure, secretly humping your hips against your hand to the sound of his pants.
He just nearly cums in your mouth when he notices what you’re up to. Shamelessly playing with yourself, mouth filled with cock, you look straight out of Eren’s nastiest fantasies, it was perfect.
He bends down and pulls your hand out from under your nightdress, “Not yet, need you to be a good girl for me.’’ Then he does the hottest thing all night, he leans down to give it a kiss. You love him. He makes you feel like a princess getting fucked by her knight.
Feeling enthusiastic again, you eagerly reach for him to continue where you left off, but are stopped yet again. Whining, you wait for him any sort of command, just to do something, anything! but he looks so unaffected it’s making you wail even louder.
“stop whining, you don’t deserve to suck my dick.” Despite the warning, you almost do it again but stop yourself when you notice the glare you’re given. “But I really needa feel you, Eren. It hurts down there.” you were so wet it felt like you were about to explode from the lack of release.
He's only a man after all, even he has his limits when you wail pathetically about how wet your pussy is. Now he needs to have a look. He pulls you up by your torso, ‘’does sucking me off make you wet?’’ You nod and visibly see his ego lit up.
A thin sheen of sweat connects your bodies as he effortlessly carries you over to his bed. You take advantage of your flexibility and spread your legs as far apart as you can once he lays you down, earning a groan out of him.
He doesn't hesitate a moment further to push his face in there and peek under your dress. “such a pretty cunt, princess. no idea how often I jerk off thinking about it, about this,” kissing through your soaked panties. Your hips jerk upwards at his erotic words, desperate for friction.
“Eren, please”
He pushes your panties to the side but keeps them on. It’s like he’s so needy for you he can’t be bothered to take off either of your clothes properly, but patient enough to check out every inch of you as if seeing you like this for the first time.
Eren’s broad body consumes your smaller frame as you lie beneath him. You love this feeling, him shielding your body from anyone and anything but himself.
His ring covered fingers play softly with your bud, observing your reactions before lining himself against you, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. The sight of Eren being almost abnormally endeavored by your pussy as he spits on his hand and pumps his cock, increases the heat pooling in your abdomen.
You lie still, enjoying the sensation of him rubbing and tapping himself against you. His eyes are fixated entirely on your cunt and you enjoy every bit of the attention. Not to say you’re not curious about what goes on in his mind when he’s focused and quiet like this. Like your body is art and he is studying and memorizing every part of it.
Once satisfied, he pushes through the tight hindrance and sucks in a breathe, “oh, fuck.” and finally looks up at you. His heart stops a beat when he’s reminded of how beautiful you are. The urge to hide you away from anyone's eyes but his, hits him strong but he bites it back.
Time slows for a moment as you both take each other in through half lidded eyes, and for some reason, your vision has never been as clear. His fingers thread through yours as he leans in for a kiss. When he pulls away, your eyes are still closed. Eren grins and places one last kiss on your forehead before thrusting his way in.
He’s fucking you with his hips, hard. Hands pressing down your pelvic, holding you still for him to ram into. The strap of your nightdress has slightly fallen down your shoulders, so he pushes the fabric that’s hiding you from him down further, and exposes your breasts. The moan he lets out from the sight is pure filth.
‘’Touch yourself.’’ he demanded, pupils dilated. With glazed over eyes, you comply and start playing with yourself, twisting and grazing your nipples. The act drives him to lift your hips to reach deeper into you,’’really thought i’d let you walk out of my room looking like this.’’ he grows almost annoyed at the thought.
Tenderly cupping his cheek, he almost flinches from how lovingly you’re looking at him, “You’re all I want, Eren.’’ and he almost melts. When you say things like that it makes him want to keep you to himself even more, resting his forehead against yours, he looks at you with almost a pained expression. ‘’that’s good, because i'm a selfish man.’’
With your legs lifted around his waist and upper body sprawled on the bed, you’re essentially at his mercy as he connects your bodies in repeated thrusts. Again, again and again, the sound of him pushing into you echoes in the room.
He fucks like a deprived man and speaks like a man in love. “Does it feel good, princess?’’ You nod with lovestruck eyes. ‘’Yeah? taking me so well. making me so proud.’’ The pressure feels too intense, about to snap.
He’s stretching you on his cock and looking straight into your eyes as he's doing it. Your body dissolves into pleasure as you writhe beneath him.
Your body starts squirming uncontrollably, causing him to grip your hips ever tighter, overpowering you in strength. You let out a loud sob and rake your nails on his back when your vision suddenly fades to black. He stares at you, astonished.
He raises an eyebrow, “did you just cum?” the thusting has stopped completely now but you felt his dick twitch inside you as he asked. “Tried to hold it in for you,” you stare back apologetically, eyes still sprinkled with lust. Best part is, he knows you didn’t. And you know it too.
“Turn around,” he orders. You obey and slump towards the bed with your back against him, hiding your face in the pillows. “Don’t act all shy with me now, let’s see your face,” he leaves no room for discussion, so you slowly turn your head and face him. He looks so big staring down at you from your vulnerable position. “That’s a good, good girl.”
Next thing you know, your cheeks are being spread and played with. Still high on ecstasy from the orgasm you just had, the energy to perform is nonexistent, so he does the job for you.
Huge hands angle your limp body upwards, then press down your back to create a beautiful arch, only for his eyes to admire. He sinks back inside and buries his cock in your warmth.
It’s hard maintaining eye contact with him when he’s like this, it feels so shameless, almost taboo, still, you can’t look away. He’s pounding into you, pulling your hips hard against him.
“This is what you’re making me do, looking at me like that. No one else will ever be able to see you like this,” he occupies his thumb by rubbing it over your clit. The contact is so delicate but rapid nonetheless.
You nod agreeably, barely able to register his words. “Are you close, Eren?’’
“Yeah,” his hands pressed down tightly on your lower abdomen, the scream you let out is almost inhumane. ‘’yes, yes.” you’re grinding back against him in heated motions, shockwaves of heat pumping through your body.
He snaps his pelvic against your ass and feels you sucking him right back in. He thinks back to what you said before about him as a dad and his eyes roll back. The thought of you carrying his child inside you makes him come undone.
“Ugh, fuck.” He comes audibly high etc, covering you in his cum. You expect him to catch his breath but he smoothly regains his composure and pushes you on your back, his thumb finding its way right back to your clit, barely even getting started before leading you to your second orgasm.
You scream in pleasure as he cups your face, lips brushing against your ear. “That's it, princess, you did so well for daddy. made me so proud.” he praises as he pushes your hair out of your face.
The lack of response makes him laugh, realizing he’d fucked you to sleep, litterally. chuckling, he grabs a warm cloth and cleans you up to his best effort.
You’re usually sleepy right after sex so this is a regular routine for you both. He smacks a kiss on the top of your head and covers you with his comforter then goes for a shower.
Once he’s done, he carries you up bridal style to the bathroom. “Wake up, sleepy.” he’s back to his sweet self. You grunt in response. “C’mon, you need to pee.’’ It’s true, so you comply and he leaves you to it.
This is a conversation you’ve both had before, he feels no need to leave when you do your business but you’ve kicked him out enough times so he knows the drill by now. Eren changes the bedsheets while you clean up.
When finished, you walk back to the bed and he opens his arm for you to rest on, your phone lying beside him. You jump at the invitation and he hugs you towards him, ‘’what do you feel like eating?’’ he’s playing with your hair as you lie comfortably on his arm.
“Not hungry.’’ you murmur.
Eren fights the urge to sigh. “Sorry, not up for debate.’’ He saves himself the trouble and orders for you both, knowing you’ll feel hungry once you see him eat.
When the food arrives, you end up wanting exactly what Eren ordered for himself.
‘’You’re a big baby.’’ he sulks and rolls his eyes, but feeds you nonetheless. You don’t miss the look on his face as you take a bite from his hand. One thing about Eren? he can and will fuck multiple times a day if you let him.
‘’down, boy. i’m not tryna have my guts rearranged after eating food.’’
He grins, ‘’I didn’t say anything’.’ knowing he’ll do exactly that when you’re done eating.
#ik i said i would look over this but i feel asleep at 5 and hust woke up so ops#someday#the the more active part…#:8 I’m planning to write for Gojo n nanami but Eren is the priority#but it takes me long to work on stuff so if u have ideas u want me to write send then now#oh and also! guess who had a whole edited draft and forgot to save it?#this is the result of that#anyway enjoy ♡#eren smut#attack on titan eren#eren#eren jeager x reader#eren aot#eren fanfiction#eren jaeger#just in the clouds for eren#my fics#fanfics#my writing#snk eren#eren x reader#eren yeager#eren jaeger smut
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Angel vs. Devil: Reader x Jean Fluff Part 2
I got more ideas after I wrote the Ice Sculpture Fluff, so now this is a mini series - surprise! If you haven't read that yet, please read it here.
If you like this, be sure to check out my original character x Jean fic on Ao3 here
Pairings: femme reader x Jean
Summary: Weeks after your first kiss with Jean, you're wondering why nothing else has sparked. He's evasive about a night out with friends that he's not going to – and you decide to find out why.
Warnings: none, this all v cute fluff, a self-indulgence
Word count: ~4K
It's been weeks since your first kiss with Jean after seeing the ice sculptures together. Weeks – and nothing. You thought things might progress, but bar trivia nights were too big and crowded for much to happen, though you were still thoroughly enjoying them. You and Jean had kept up your schedule of meeting at the coffee shop twice a week for you to write and for him to draw, but it was all very platonic. At least, you thought. A couple times you swear you caught him staring at you, but as soon as you looked up he was buried in his sketchbook again.
On Wednesday nights, the coffee shop switched to wine after 5 pm, while you met on Saturday mornings and enjoyed your favorite coffee orders. Sometimes you chatted nearly the entire time. You learned a few more things about Jean – he switched back and forth between straight black coffee or sugary lattes – no in between. He almost quit the soccer team his first year of college because of the emotional stress, but Marco talked him into staying. He had a habit of squeezing his hands into fists when he was frustrated or anxious.
He learned a few things about you too – that you twirled your hair when you were stuck in writer's block, that you chose to Trost for college because you knew nobody from your high school would be there, and that you were a sucker for the baked goods at the cafe and wouldn't share with him.
Sasha is just waking up when you yell that you're heading out to the coffee shop with Jean.
“Have fuuuuun,” she teases. Though she's buried in blankets, you know she's winking. You told Sasha everything, and she's just as baffled as you – why hadn't Jean made another move? “Don't come back unless you've got some good Jean tea!”
“I'll do my best,” you roll your eyes and head out the door.
~
You smack Jean's hand out of the way as he tries to take a piece of your chocolate chip muffin.
“Funny that you and Sasha ended up as roommates, you're just as stingy as with food as she is,” he accuses in a playful tone. The Saturday morning sun streams in through the windows and over Jean, giving his hazel eyes even more warmth. He runs his fingers through his hair to push it out of his eyes and dives back into his sketch. Fuck, why is he so cute? Though you do notice dark purple circles under his eyes and wonder what's been keeping him up at night.
“You can buy your own,” you retort and tap your pen on his elbow. You take another bite of your muffin, still warm. The chocolate chips melt in your mouth. You put it back down on the plate to get back to your character development worksheet, but Jean interrupts you.
“Oh, you uh. . .” he trails off and you glance up to see him pointing to the corner of his mouth.
“Hmm? Oh.” You realize you must have chocolate from the muffin on your face. You lick around your lips and look down, refusing to make eye contact. “All good?”
“Ah, not quite, here.” Jean's long arm reaches over to you. You freeze and hold your breath. His thumb rubs the corner of your mouth with a gentle but strong touch. He lingers for a second and brushes your bottom lip and – someone at the front of the coffee shop yells your name.
“And Jean, you're here too!” Jean jerks his hand away from your face and turns around to see none other than Connie bounding over to your two-person table. He grabs another chair from a table and plops down.
“Why are you awake before 11 am?” Jean glares at his friend.
“Because it's the big day! Don't tell me you forgot!” Connie throws his hands up in excitement for what, exactly you're not sure. You and Jean exchange a blank look. “Not you too?? C'mon guys, the basketball game is tonight!” Shit. You did in fact completely forget this one. Normally you are so honored to be invited something that you remember every detail, but watching sports has never been your thing. The Trost Titans are hosting their rival, the Marley Warriors, which apparently is a big deal. Connie “knows a guy” and scored everyone tickets. “I need everyone there in Titans gear for good luck, or Reiner, Bert and Annie will never let me hear the end of it.” You remember that those three are from Marley.
“Ah, I'm not sure Connie, basketball's not really my thing. . .” you trail off and worry that you'll seem ungrateful since he already got everyone tickets. You might be up for it if it were a sporting event outside – that's the big reason you and Historia played intramural sand volleyball in college, but trying to pretend to care about basketball inside in arena surrounded by die-hard fans doesn't sound appealing in the slightest.
“It's no sweat,” Connie says your name, “think about it, or at least meet up at our place after.” You nod and consider that meeting up after could actually be fun. Connie, Eren and Armin all live together and you haven't been to their place yet – ironic considering Connie practically lives on the couch in your apartment with Sasha. “What about you Jean?”
“I already told you, I can't.” Jean doesn't look up from his sketch.
“What do you mean you can't??” Connie throws his arms up again.
“I mean, I can't. I have a thing.” His voice grows with irritation. You have to admit that meeting up after the game without Jean there sounds a little less fun, although maybe it'd be a good distraction from pining after him.
“What thing? Got a hot date tonight?” Connie presses. You notice Jean's tell tale sign of his free hand closing up in a fist.
“No, a work thing.”
“Whaaaat? Why you working on a Saturday?? Come out and play with us!”
“Because I have a work thing, Connie, now get off my back!” Jean tears his eyes away from his sketchpad to narrow his eyes at Connie.
“Geez,” Connie leans away from him. “Whatever got up your ass this morning must be sideways. Anyways, that's my coffee order.” He points to the barista at the counter “Hope to see you tonight.” Connie waves at you before he grabs two coffees, presumably the other for Sasha, and dashes out the door. You turn back to Jean, who's sending invisible laser beams at his sketch. You had never asked Jean what he was working on and vise-versa. It's like an unspoken agreement.
“So uh, what is your work thing tonight? If you don't mind sharing,” you ask with caution. He finally brings his head up but avoids eye contact.
“Ah, it's an open house fundraiser for the kids. We show their art like a gallery and there's a suggested entry fee. It's mostly their family and friends.” He shrugs. You perk up at this endearing side of Jean you haven't seen since the ice sculpture night.
“Oh, that's actually really cool. Will you or any of the other teachers have pieces on display?”
“Not sure yet. I'm going to head there early and see if I can finish something up.” He continues looking away from you and places his hand on his neck. “Anyways, you'll have fun at the basketball game?” He gives you a questioning glance.
“Mmm, like I said, not sure basketball is my thing.”
“Yeah, I hear that,” Jean says as he packs his sketchbook away. “It is a fun time though – you'll get to see Connie get completely sloshed and try to pick a fight with someone. And believe it or not, Annie gets pretty amped for the game.”
“That's almost intriguing enough,” you laugh. You had never seen Annie anything other than stoic. She and Armin are truly like the moon and the sun. “Would it be weird if I came to your fundraiser?” You blurt out the words before you realize the gravity of what you asked. Why does your brain keep short circuiting around this man? Jean pauses and grimaces.
“It'd probably be pretty boring for you, it's just a bunch of paintings made by melodramatic 13-year olds. You'll have more fun at the game. Anyways,” he tosses his backpack over his shoulder, “I'll see you at the after party.”
“See you,” you say with a monotone voice. It's like a punch to the gut.
~
With your phone in hand, you pace back and forth in your living room. Sasha and Connie had already left to pre-game. As soon as you get home, you call your best friend to see what she made of the situation.
“But why was he being so weird about it? It didn't even sound like he was going to have any of his art there,” you muse.
“I don't know,” Historia says your name, “maybe he was telling the truth, maybe it is really just boring.”
“But still. Wouldn't he want a friend to show up to support what he does? Am I overthinking this?” You flop down on the couch, which is covered in crumbs from Sasha and Connie's late night munchies. Historia would've cleaned it up already, but you don't mind the mess. It's a sign of life, of fun.
“Maybe. . . “ she trails off.
“What if I just went?” you propose. Apparently, your brain was still short circuiting.
“Why do you even want to go?”
“I'm not sure,” you confess. “Something just feels off with how evasive he was.” You hear a muffled yet abrasive voice in the background. “Is that Ymir?”
“Um, yeah, I hope it's okay – she heard everything.” At this point, you assume Ymir knows anything and everything you told Historia.
“HEY,” Ymir shouts your name. “I think you should do it! Go to the art thing. Fuck around and find out!”
“But he seemed like he didn't want anyone there,” Historia counters in her gentle way.
“Exactly,” Ymir retorts, “You gotta find out why.”
It was like talking with an angel and devil on your shoulder. And today, you choose the devil.
~
This was quite possibly one of the stupidest things you've ever done. You linger outside of the nonprofit art studio that Jean works at and shove your hands deep in your parka to protect against the cruel wind. Although really, zero degrees was quite balmy in comparison to the -20 degrees you and Jean braved for the ice sculptures. The slightly dimmed, warm lights beckon you inside as you wonder what in the actual hell you're doing here.
A gaggle of giggling girls interrupt your thoughts. They head for the front doors of the studio, give you a pointed look, and then collapse into giggles once again as they enter the building. Despite the nearly subzero temperatures, heat rushes to your face. Somehow, it's worse getting bullied post-school.
Another sharp wind cuts right through your parka and you can't take it anymore. You rush into the building and involuntarily hum with relief. You barely hear what the kid at the table propped up in front of the doors says to you. Without thinking, you shove a $10 bill at them and walk further into the studio. As expected for an arts nonprofit, it's small – not really a studio as much as a couple connecting classrooms someone tried to dress up as a studio. You dart behind the coat rack and scan the room for Jean, but he's no where to be seen. Parents mill about with their middle school kids.
You keep your parka on, in case you need a quick escape. Plus, it's fucking cold. You begin wandering through the sea of student paintings. A sign at the start explains that the theme is peace. Some paintings are right on the nose – a dove flying with an olive branch or a collage of psychedelic-looking peace signs. Others are a little more nuanced. You chuckle at the painting of a cat stretched out on a floor in a sun spot. You too would like to be sunning yourself and lazing about. Another is a woman, you assume the student's family member, baking bread. You cycle through the student showcase faster, eager to see if Jean has anything on display. Finally, you reach the back corner of the studio. Your eyes flit to the tags below the instructor's paintings. True to what Jean told you earlier, you don't see Floch's name. At the very last tag, you find “Saturday Coffee – Jean Kirstein.”
You look up and find yourself face to face with -
Yourself.
You are on display for everyone to see. Exposed. Your eyes widen and your lips part in shock. Jean has captured you perfectly – from the exact shade of your hair and eyes, to the way you hold your pen, even the slight scars on your skin from a severe case of acne in high school. In the painting, you're at the coffee shop writing. One hand holds your pen, the other your cup of coffee.. There's even a half-eaten muffin to the side.
I'm going to kill him.
A torrent of emotions flood you – violation, honor, embarrassment, humility. Footsteps approach behind you.
“It's beautiful, isn't it? That's my Jean boy's painting.”
You turn to find none other than Jean's mother. Even if she hadn't said anything, her eyes were a dead give away. Nobody else could have his exact shade of earth-like hazel eyes.
“Yeah, um – it's – it's” you stutter.
“Oh,” her eyes light up. “It looks just like you! Are you his muse?” Her laughter is like deep music, but she's interrupted by an aggravated voice.
“Mom, what are you doing here? I asked you not to come.”
Jean. Shit.
Heat flushes your face as you make eye contact with him. And goddamn, he looks good. He's wearing Vans, black loose fitting jeans, and an olive green sweater. Based on his facial expression, you're not sure which of you is more mortified at this situation.
“Oh – “ he says your name and softens, “you're here too.”
Horror and humiliation take over your body.
“So this is why you didn't want to come.” You jab your finger at your mirror image. Jean shrinks into his sweater.
“Look, I can explain - “
“Explain what? That you drew me without telling me?” You try to ignore his mother's worried eyes darting back and forth between you two. Your throat chokes up and you whip around and head back toward the front door. Jean follows you and says your name.
“Wait!”
“No!” You turn back around to face him, tears threatening. “Shit Jean, you at least could've fucking asked me first.”
Hurt flashes across his eyes, but you don't care.
“Ooooo!” The middle school students are entertained by the show you don't realize you're putting on. All too aware of every eye on you, you dash out the door. The now subzero temperatures suck the air out of your lungs. The door behind you doesn't slam shut as expected.
“Please, give me a chance to explain,” Jean pleads with you. You turn around and soften at the sight of him running after you with no coat on, his ears instantly red.
“That was humiliating,” you voice cracks.
“I know, I know.” Jean tips back and forth on his toes and shoves his hands deep in his pockets. Fuck men for getting pockets. “Look, I gotta stay here for a little bit longer, but can you give me a chance to explain? I'll take the painting down immediately.” You raise an eyebrow. Though you do want to know why, the devil in you wants run home and leave him hanging. It's what he deserves. “Meet me at the brewery around the corner? Beers on me? Please?”
This time, you choose the angel.
~ ~ ~
By the time Jean gets to the brewery, you've already guzzled nearly all of you raspberry sour. You take the last sip and eye him as he walks in, flushed from the sudden heat.
You knew exactly what brewery he had referenced as it was the same one that you, Historia and Ymir frequented after intramural volleyball games. After one game, you three sat in the back corner and Ymir scratched “Historia + Ymir + their pet” into the brick wall. You're still not sure how she managed to scratch all that and not get caught.
One year later, you sit in the same spot – but alone. Until Jean comes running up to you. He tears his knit cap and winter coat off, leaving his lengthening hair sticking up in all different directions.
“You started without me?” He points at your now empty glass.
“Mmmhmm.” You nod and cross your arms.
“Can I get you a refill?”
“Yep. Raspberry sour.” You push your glass toward him. A few moments later, he returns with your drink and an IPA for himself.
“Explain yourself,” you demand as soon as he sits down.
“Right,” he agrees and sighs, running his fingers through his hair before resting his stubbled chin on his hand. His face is still flushed, but probably not from the heat inside anymore. “I panicked, honestly. I'd been trying sketches all the time we'd been at the coffee shop, but I was getting no where with the peace theme. I already didn't show anything at the last showcase, which isn't a huge deal, it's mostly for the kids, but I figured it would be a good way to get back into it. Then one morning, it hit me that what I needed was right in front of me.” He gestures his hands to you. “It was you. You were writing in your notebook and drinking coffee, nothing special, just our usual Saturday morning, but you looked so at peace. It's different from how I normally see you.”
“What do you mean?” You furrow your eyebrows. “Different how?”
“Oh, um,” he scratches his stubbled jaw. Fuck. You are not immune to the effects of a well defined jaw. “I guess when we're all in a big group, I've noticed that you're a little tense, like you have your guard up – which makes sense in a big group of people you don't know very well. So it's been nice to see you relaxed and in your element.” He shrugs, seemingly embarrassed of all he just divulged, of just how much he pays attention to you.
“Hmm.” You keep your arms crossed and nod, unwilling to think too deeply about Jean's accurate observations. “And you didn't bother to ask my permission because . . . ?”
Jean takes a deep breath. “Because I was staying up past midnight painting and I was terrified you'd think it's weird. I didn't want to risk not showing anything tonight, so instead I just hoped nobody would show up. And that's not an excuse, I know. It was a stupid decision. I should've given you the chance to say no. I've taken it down and I promise I won't show it to anyone without your permission.” He slumps down in his chair and looks to you for a response.
You clear your throat. “Thank you.” Jean's face loosens a little.
“Actually, you can have it, if you want. You have more of a right to it than I do.”
“No,” you shake your head and take a sip of your drink. “That feels weird. I can tell you put a lot of time into it, if nothing else.” He nods, but remains silent, unwilling to accept the compliment – probably out of shame. You're not sure if you're quite ready to forgive Jean, but you also don't want to talk about it anymore. “So what was the deal with your mom?”
Jean's head jerks up. “Ah, I owe her an apology too. She's come to every single one of my shows, but I was nervous that she'd get the wrong idea. The curse of living in the same city as your mom means she'll find out anyway,” he smirks.
“And what would be the wrong idea?” Your heart skips a beat as you wait for Jean to answer.
“That we're . . . together,” he purses his lips together. “We're friends, right?”
“Right,” is your knee jerk reaction. Disappointment and glee fill your body at the same time. Glee because you do in fact want to be friends with Jean. Disappointment because this clearly meant the kiss meant nothing to him. You remind yourself that you barely know Jean, yet the attraction is undeniable, especially as a broad grin stretches across his face, which sends you melting.
“Good. Thought I'd lost you there for a minute.”
You return his smile and give his long leg a gentle kick under the table. It's all too easy with how far they stick out. “Just don't do anything like that again,” you warn, half kidding, half serious.
“On my honor,” he says, placing his right hand on his heart in a mock salute. “But seriously, I feel like I owe you a lot more than a beer on me. Can I take you out around Trost sometime?”
Those are date words, but a small voice in the back of your head reminds you that this is an apology – and you don't want a pity hang out.
“You don't have to do that – hang out with me because you feel obligated to.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “That's not what I meant! I mean, I do actually want to hang out with you. It'd be fun to see you outside the coffee shop and trivia. Really, you'd be doing me a favor. Marco's been so busy with his nursing shifts and there's only so much of Sasha and Connie I can handle.” His words spew out almost faster than you can comprehend.
You know what he means, but you tease him. “So you want to hang out with me because your other options are out?”
“Ah shit, I'm really digging myself in a hole here.” He looks down and rubs his fingers through his godamn sexy hair again. He says your name, “I want to hang out with you because I like spending time with you. Better?”
You laugh. “Alright, you've got me. What do you want to do?”
“It'll be a surprise,” he gives you a wry smile and takes a sip of his beer.
“Hmm, mysterious.” Your phone buzzes – someone's calling you. Nobody ever calls you except Historia. You take your phone out and it reads “Connie Springer.”
“Connie?” You answer.
“HEYYYY,” he slurs your name. Jean busts out laughing. Connie's voice is plenty loud enough without speaker phone on. “We WON! Titans win! Get your ass down to our place NOW! And make sure to bring that horse face with you.” He hangs up before you can respond.
“Horse face?” You ask Jean, who crosses his arms and rolls his eyes.
“Eren's insult turned nickname, I guess.” Something tells you that it's endearing from Connie and infuriating from Eren. “Do you want to go after we finish these?” He points to your still mostly full drinks.
“Sure, though I'm not really sure what to expect. Never really been into super competitive sports.”
“It's a lot of fun, even if you're not into it. Mikasa and Armin are pretty 'meh' about it, and they still manage to have fun. Expect Connie to be belligerently drunk and insufferable. Sasha will be off the wall. Reiner might be in tears.”
“Tears?? For a basketball game?” It's hard to imagine the beefy guy in tears.
“He's a big dude with a lot of feelings,” Jean chuckles. “Shall we find out?”
#jean kirstein#jean kirstein fluff#reader x jean kirstein#jean kirstein x reader#date night#aot#attack on titan#sasha braus#eren jaeger#mikasa ackerman#modern au#snk#shingeki no kyojin#fluff#writing#brave-and-gentle#friendship#roommates#reader x Jean#Jean x reader#historia reiss#ymir#connie springer#femme reader#jean x you#you x jean
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rebounding; one-shot
“Don’t you want to give it a try? I mean, haven’t you ever thought about it?”
✧ content: ~10.5k words. eren jaeger x female reader. modern/roommate au. reader is dumped by unnamed boyfriend for "plot" purposes (what plot?), lighthearted with slight hurt/comfort + angst, complicated feelings, pure filth, eren’s bad with emotions but so are you, rough sex, praise, dirty talk, 'pretty girl' as a pet name, mentions of masturbation, light overstimulation, oral sex (f!receiving), protected PIV sex, explicit sexual content, explicit language, reader discretion advised. 18+ only
It was little more than a passing thought when Eren realized he hadn’t seen you since he’d been home. It wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary, considering your boyfriend’s shoes strewn near the front door—Eren tripped over one earlier—but he thought you would have come out for a snack or a trip to the bathroom or something by now.
Perhaps it was best to give you two some privacy.
On his way out, he opted to text you instead of knocking on your door to check if you needed anything. He took his time gathering his wallet and keys, but even after a few minutes, you still hadn’t opened the message. He got the hint, loud and clear.
The five-minute drive to the corner store didn’t eat up much time, and Eren spent the first half of the hour trying to figure out how to kill the next. He stalled for as long as he could, running down his mental checklist for household essentials and uselessly debating between soda brands. But after a while, he started to feel like a weirdo for stalking every aisle twice over.
Eren didn’t like to be at the apartment when he was there, your boyfriend. It wasn’t anything personal—
Okay, maybe he could admit it was a little personal. Eren had told you before that he was a major douchebag, but hey, at least he was honest.
Anyway, it wasn’t like anyone wanted to be around when their roommate was getting laid, but Eren had nowhere else to go and a gas tank bordering on empty. He couldn’t even take the long way back home.
Somewhere in his gut, Eren hoped you’d be there to greet him when he returned. Not for any special reason; he was just bored. What was the point of having a roommate if they were always locked away in their bedroom?
Of course, you’d only been ‘locked away’ for a handful of hours, but that was like an eternity to Eren—always one for dramatics. For him, it was an ordinary Tuesday night, with nothing to see or do except wait until he was tired enough to sleep. He couldn’t even enjoy his show because you scolded him for putting on an episode while you were out. ‘I can’t believe you watched our show without me!’ He wasn’t sure when the ‘our show’ thing started because it didn’t even seem like you paid it any attention.
Unfortunately for him, when Eren stepped through the front door, you weren’t curled in your usual nook on the couch. Your boyfriend’s shoes were still annoyingly kicked to the side, and not a single thing had changed since he left. The apartment wasn’t that spacious, and it didn’t take long to learn the walls were about as thin as cardboard, which made the silence eerie as Eren slipped from his shoes. Even the metallic clang of his keys on the table felt out of place, like he was walking on eggshells in his own home. Something was off.
Before he could put his finger on it—before he could even crack open his bottle of soda—he discerned the first sign of life from your room. Shouting, but Eren couldn’t pick out if it belonged to you or him.
Your bedroom door swung open. Eren didn’t see it but heard the swoosh of it, the rickety wood shrieking in its hinges. Your boyfriend stormed down the hallway, shoulders tensed and hands drawn into fists at his side. What did Eren say about him being a douchebag again?
Then, he shot Eren this glare. This downright nasty glare for no good reason, flagrantly huffing and puffing his way to snatch his jacket. He was rough with it, leaving the chair wobbling but still upright.
Prickly, and merely seconds away from acting on it, Eren’s disgust curled at his lip to return the sneer. But the asshole was out the door—even made sure to slam it behind him—before Eren could ask what the hell his problem was.
The apartment went quiet again. The door stopped quavering and the room was still. Though your boyfriend was gone, the strangely thick, suffocating air lingered. Eren didn’t know what to make of it. He couldn’t move, firmly planted in the center of the living room like his feet had taken root. He didn’t want to know what just happened, lest he wished to get wrapped up in your relationship drama, but he had this dreaded feeling he was about to learn regardless. Especially once the sniffling began, faint, but spilling from your room and into the hall.
The door to your bedroom was still open. Eren grazed his knuckles against it, carefully trying to catch your attention. You saw only his head at first, tentatively poked around the corner. After he decided the coast was clear, he made himself known, loosely leaning against the doorframe like he always did when he had something to tell you.
Your instinct was to hide your face—to quickly swat away the tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. It was your best attempt at collecting yourself, but it was worthless because Eren had already seen the puffy-eyed look on your face.
You straightened out, uncrumpling your legs and letting them hang from the edge of the bed. You started to fumble over snot-coated words. “God, sorry. I probably look like a mess.”
Eren couldn’t begin to guess why you were apologizing, and immediately, he felt a pang of sympathy. Despite how it struck him iron-hot in his chest, he didn’t know what to do with it. His body stiffened.
Thinking (hoping) you’d laugh, or at the very least chuckle, he didn’t disagree with you. Instead, he pitched you a boyish yet well-meant, “What’s new?”
You pulled a face but otherwise ignored the comment, reaching toward the box of tissues on your nightstand. Eren was surprised there were any left, considering you were surrounded by what appeared to be a hundred of them. Balled up and scattered across your bed, the floor, and even one on your lap. He didn’t want to, but he took a cautious step into your room. He even took another, squeamishly watching you loudly blow your nose.
He should say something, shouldn’t he?
“So,” Eren started, rocking back on his heels once. “What happened?”
You glanced over at him, still looking pretty awful. You had smeared the streaks of mascara across the crests of your cheeks, even to your temples, tinging them like soot. Eren’s stomach seized up as he fought off his primal urge to back away slowly and retreat to his bedroom.
You sucked in a breath and answered, “We broke up.” Between the words, your bottom lip started to quiver. “He broke up with me.”
Say what you wanted about Eren—label him a cynic or accuse him of being heartless, perhaps both—but he didn’t particularly enjoy dealing with others’ emotions. To put it bluntly, they repulsed him, most especially the waterworks that accompanied them.
Eren averted his eyes like you were some tragic spectacle. He hated seeing you like this. It was such a bummer, no different than spotting a kitten forgotten in a rainstorm. He wished he could console you, find an umbrella and run to your rescue, but that was much more complicated than it sounded.
If he had known about the breakup earlier (if you had responded to his text message), he would have brought you something back from the store. Ice cream or red wine—the sort of stuff he’d seen in movies—he didn’t know. Ugh.
He remembered his bottle of soda, still sealed with its condensation cooling his hand. He extended it to you, offering, “Here. You can take this if you want.”
Face buried in your palms, you pried your gaze higher and, unexpectedly, grimaced.
“What? No, I don’t want that right now,” you grumbled. Eren could be such an idiot sometimes.
Your voice was sour enough to sting, like he had purposefully salted your brand-new wound. His face said enough—a resounding yikes—but he didn’t stop there; he continued digging his own grave.
Eren nodded his head in the general direction of the front door. “You know, he probably hasn’t gotten too far. I could go kick his—”
“I think I just want to be left alone.”
“Well, what if we—”
“Seriously, Eren,” you snapped. “Go away.”
Tears collected in the corners of your eyes again, welling up like dew. Then your bottom lip did that trembling thing again. It must have embarrassed you; that was why you rushed to slam the door in Eren’s face. At least, that was what he told himself, rather than admit you didn’t want his help, that he was only making things worse. That maybe he was the last person you wanted to see right then.
Honestly, that might have been the case. Not just in that fleeting moment but for the days to come.
It had been over a week since that night, a very strange eleven days in the little apartment you both called home. It wasn’t like you to keep to yourself. Even when Eren first moved in, when he was little more than a stranger to you, you liked his company. You told him as such. ‘I just like to have someone to talk to. That’s all.’ And you’d do just that, chatting to pass the time it’d take to wash the dishes or whatever menial task you were up to. Eren never minded, but it did make it harder to adjust to the quiet. He could even admit he missed your unnecessary commentary while he watched TV.
He supposed it was naive of him to think you’d bounce back from a breakup after only a week. But were you really that hung up on this guy?
No, Eren was sure you were giving him the cold shoulder for badgering you less than a minute after your boyfriend had stormed out. Not that it wasn’t deserved, but for the record, you never apologized for slamming the door in his face.
Neither of you wanted to lose this childish stand-off, nor were you above butting heads, no better than a couple of rams, if given the right provocation.
To outsiders, the two of you may seem like an unlikely pair. But the reality of it was you shared this apartment for well over a year now. Eren wasn’t your original roommate, that was your friend Mikasa. After a few months of living together, she was offered an internship a few hours south of here, out of commuting range, and took it on a whim. That internship turned into her dream job, and her friend Eren’s sublease turned into one of his own, for no other reason than it just worked; it was as simple as that.
So one could imagine why Eren had trouble wrapping his head around it. By now, it was customary, borderline a requirement of living together, for you to annoy one another. You’d poke and poke and poke, as roommates tend to, and no matter what, the other would come around. Eren always did. You always did.
But this time, even Eren’s bribes didn’t work. Not even a latte from your favorite cafe—conveniently located on his walk home from the gym—softened you. That was when he knew it was bad, worse than when you discovered he’d been snitching from your expensive hair products in the shower. It was awkward and tense and, frankly, unbearable.
It was Saturday night, probably creeping into Sunday morning. Eren’s eyes burned, a bit bloodshot when he last checked. He took it as his sign to shut off the computer.
You still weren’t home. Eren didn’t know where you were; he told himself he didn’t care, but his rampant curiosity said otherwise. Throughout the night, he’d excuse himself from his video game, telling his friends he’d be back in a second, and on his way to ransack the kitchen for the umpteenth time, he’d check to see if your purse had returned to its rightful spot: draped over the back of the loveseat. For whatever reason, your absence irked him.
You knew there was a chance Eren would still be awake when you came home; you just didn’t expect to bump into him.
You stood in your entryway, your coat only halfway down your arms and sagged around your elbows, when Eren emerged from the hallway. He had a hand shielded over his squinted eyes as they adjusted to the brash overhead light.
His white tee held the wrinkles of his bedsheets. It was an old shirt, by the look of it, its collar drooped in the front and a hemline that appeared slightly thread-barren against his charcoal sweatpants. He must have fallen asleep with his hair tied back; stray strands framed his cheekbones and curtained his lidded eyes. He blinked them a few times, hard, then let his hand slump to his side. He studied you with a judgy once-over.
“Did you just get home?” He sounded as groggy as he looked.
“Yeah.” It was a rather redundant question, given your current state of toying with your strappy heels, bounding around on one foot as you tried to slip free of them.
Eren retrieved his phone from his pocket. “It’s almost three in the morning.” He showed you the screen as if you requested proof.
“So?”
“What were you doing out that late?”
You couldn’t decipher his tone, and for the life of you, you couldn’t read the expression on his face. For once, it was blank. Tired, but blank.
“It’s none of your business,” you snarked.
“It is when you wake me up.”
You had difficulty believing you had woken him up in the thirty seconds you’d been home. Regardless, you brushed him off with, “I was out with a friend.”
You were purposefully vague because it truly was none of his business. But you let your attitude seethe to the forefront, with it, an implication you didn’t intend.
Eren gave you this look, stern and accusatory, but more than anything, he looked absolutely baffled with you.
“You didn’t.”
He thought you went crawling back to your ex.
You didn’t correct him in time to prevent his ranting and raving.
“You can’t be serious. After what he did?” He was referring to the nasty breakup. “After everything?” And that was referring to the rest. You were aware Eren had become an unlucky bystander to your relationship, frequently caught in the fallout of every nuclear fight.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, wiping the sleep from the inner corners of his eyes as if it would clear his head. “You could be with anyone you want. Why go back to him?”
You were insulted he’d think so lowly of you, that you needed a fatherly lecture from him of all people. You were fixed on that, not reading between the lines when you barked, “So what if I did? Why do you even care so much?”
Eren didn’t care. What possibly gave you the impression he cared? You were a big girl, you could date whoever you pleased. You were certainly doing whatever you pleased; the only reason he was even talking to you—the only reason he was awake—was because of you, loudly stumbling through the front door in the middle of the night, unwilling to consider his perspective on the situation.
A situation you created, by the way. Not just tonight but eleven days ago. It didn’t need to exist in the first place. The drama, the theatrics—all of it. You must have forgotten Eren wasn’t the one who dumped you.
So in his mind, the better question was, “Why are you being like this?”
You defensively knotted your arms over your chest. “Like what?”
Eren opened his mouth, raring to sling some smart-ass comment your way, but he only stammered. He blamed it on the fact that he was torn out of his slumber and immediately thrown into the ring with you, but truthfully, he could have eight hours of sleep and a shot of espresso and still suck at this sort of thing. You know, emotions.
Words failed him miserably. He gave up on them and waved a hand over you like you were supposed to know what he meant by it. “Weird and stuff.”
“Weird and stuff,” you mocked with a pointed scoff. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”
“You’re never here anymore,” he said in exasperation, “and when you are, you’re ignoring—no, you’re actively avoiding me.”
You wanted to do exactly that, to roll your eyes and stomp to your bedroom. Eren knew that. He was daring you to prove him right.
In a way, ending a spat was much like defusing a bomb, wasn’t it? Both backed you into a corner, forcing you to make a decision on instinct alone. You’d clip a wire, red or blue, the choice was yours, and cross your fingers that it was over. You could deny, deny, deny, put it off for another day, just to see if it explodes. Or you could end it.
You exhaled reluctantly. “I went out for drinks with Sasha. We went back to her place, got to talking, and I lost track of the time.” He matched your sigh, and you watched the sink in his shoulders. “The breakup was long overdue. I don’t think one night out would change anything between us.”
You told Eren the truth not because it was any of his business but because guilt pitted your stomach. Yes, he was upset you woke him, you understood that. And undoubtedly, it was a part of the reason—at least why he was testier than normal, which was saying something—but hearing him now, you realized it ran much deeper than that.
The tension in the room eased its grip on your throats. You sensed he was about to offer you some cliché, but if it would be anything like his last attempt at cheering you up, you weren’t interested.
You beat him to it, confessing, “He dumped me because of you.”
The sentence fell to the floor with a blundering splat. You plopped this thing between you and expected him to know what to do with it.
Eren’s eyes narrowed and flickered over you, head to toe. He took in your words, scrutinized and dissected them. Before he could draw his own hasty conclusions, you elaborated, “That’s the reason he broke up with me—why I’ve been avoiding you.”
He snorted derisively. “That’s a load of bullshit.”
“That’s what I said. But he told me I either had to move out—find a place of my own or live with him—or it was over.”
The mood shifted. Eren stared back at you apprehensively, waiting for you to go on as if you hadn’t made up your mind already—as if you were about to break your lease on the spot. He couldn’t fathom the obvious answer.
“And?”
You exaggerated it when you extended your arms out at your sides. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”
You looked and looked at him, but for once, he didn’t say a thing. You disarmed him; he tucked his hands into his pockets in his own Eren-y way of surrendering.
“It sounds stupid, but I like what we have. I like this,” you said genuinely, even if you weren’t quite sure what ‘this’ was—your living situation, your roommate-ship, your friendship with Eren. Whatever it was, it was comfortable, and maybe it was just some lame proverb, but you couldn’t help but think: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
You shrugged. “And I’m definitely not about to ditch it for some jealous douchebag.”
He finally cracked. His lips bowed into a small smile. “At least you can finally admit it.”
Deep down—like way down in there—you recognized none of what happened was Eren’s fault, but that didn’t lessen the blow. It became easier to pretend as if he wasn’t there, just for a while. It was irrational, it was your gut reaction, and by the time you realized how petulant it was, you were too ashamed to fess up to it. All it took was a bit of cornering, you supposed.
You and Eren were too close, apparently. That was what your ex-boyfriend believed for however long he chose to keep it to himself. He stewed on it, a simmer at first, until it bubbled to a seething boil, splattering you when you removed the lid and asked, ‘Why have you been so distant lately?’
Once the argument ensued, it was like you no longer spoke the same language. Anything you said, any explanation you gave, wasn’t good enough. To him, you were irredeemable. He had already set his mind on that ultimatum—a rather expensive one at that.
You weren’t oblivious to the fact that some may find it strange you were in a relationship with one man while living with another, but was it that bizarre a concept? It was how the cards fell, so you made the best of it, which wasn’t too difficult, actually.
It became clear just how long it’d been bothering him when he began to list everything you’d done wrong over the months, even going as far as to count your crimes on his fingers. Looking back, you should have stopped him there; no one needed to be with that kind of person, anyway.
Firstly, and what appeared to be your greatest sin, was that he hated when you borrowed Eren’s hoodies; it really didn’t happen often. Eren left them thrown about the apartment, so you’d only wear them to empty the trash when it was raining or when you went grab a coffee down the street on a chilly day. According to him, he was always finding them in your room.
You could appreciate his perspective on that one, but he should have mentioned it sooner. His second reason—and this was where they started to become silly—was that he ‘always’ (he used that word a lot) heard Eren in the background when he’d call. You told him it was farfetched to think Eren’s naturally loud demeanor was somehow your fault.
Then he became more upset, ridiculing you for, in his words, being all ‘Eren this, Eren that’ about everything—another exaggeration. In your defense, if you turned to Eren, it was only a matter of convenience because he was literally across the hall. You never explained this; he didn’t give you the chance, so you tuned out his other reasons, more focused on trying to make sense of this tailspin.
It hit you then, not like a smack across the face; it was stealthier than that. It prowled from behind in a low rumble, creeping down your spine before pouncing, taking you captive in one go.
“Eren?”
The mildness in your voice surprised you. You spoke his name in a quiet request, the same way you would if you needed something from him (you did). He was immediately suspicious. Still, he met your eye, acknowledging you with knitted brows.
Whenever you needed something, you turned to Eren.
You had to choose your words carefully, but there was no careful way to go about this.
You bit down on your bottom lip, unwittingly wetting it. “Would you kiss me?”
What you needed now was to forget. To lose yourself in his body, just for one night.
The softness in his voice contended with your own. “Why?”
He didn’t say no. His face certainly didn’t say no, either. And he didn’t draw back when you neared him.
Sasha spent the evening encouraging you to find a hookup, telling you the only way to get over someone was to get under another. But meeting someone new was hard.
“I don’t know,” you slowly said. “Just want to.”
Eren flinched, only slightly, when you laid the tips of your fingers on the back of his wrist. You grazed them higher up his arm, noting how the hairs stood up as you went.
“Don’t you,” you started, in an almost temptatious way, “don’t you want to give it a try? I mean, haven’t you ever thought about it?”
He sucked in a breath and his lip went with it, pinched between his teeth. He shut his eyes because he was pretty sure he was about to kiss you. It didn’t help that the sight of you was incredibly distracting, either. He still had to decide what to do, and all the while, his thoughts juggled around in his head; he couldn’t hold onto one without losing another.
It was a terrible idea. Downright awful. Even so, it didn’t feel so bad when he felt your hand on his chest, even if it made his heartbeat hammer.
Eren opened his eyes to your face, nothing else. He took you in, from the top of your head to the very tip of your chin. Your hair was a bit out of place, expected for three in the morning, but your eyes were as bright as if it were the middle of the afternoon. Something about them was alluring, though he couldn’t pin it. They grew, bigger and bigger, until they were out of focus. Closing in, your noses brushed, and Eren’s ‘yes’ died on his lips as he placed them to yours—an answer to one or both of your questions, he wasn’t sure.
He couldn’t stop himself from kissing you, losing his words between your lips as he asked, “Should we be doing this?”
You inched back, still extremely close, enough that your breath warmed him. “Why not?”
Eren knew you didn’t need him to break it down for you. You were Mikasa’s friend, his roommate. Someone he wanted to keep the peace with, even if you were making it difficult.
“Won’t it make things weird?”
“I thought I already made things weird. And stuff,” you teased. He shot you the unamused look you anticipated. “Whatever. You already pop a boner when you see me after the shower. Do you really think this is what will make things weird?”
Heat scorched the tips of Eren’s ears. It had only happened twice! And there was no way you knew about that. Unless you were looking for it, he supposed, but thinking about that made him more nervous.
It was that damn robe of yours. The one you only wore from time to time, the telltale sign laundry day was near. Eren had only seen it a few times, incidentally of course, just if you’d pass one another. Still, he could picture it then. It hardly counted as a robe, so frail that he was surprised anyone would spend money on it. It bordered on see-through, clinging to your body as you’d leave the steamy bathroom, into the cool hallway—
You lightly smacked his arm. “I’m just messing with you.”
He deflated in relief, but the feeling didn’t last long because you were still between his hands, sitting dangerously low on your waist. In that moment, his sense drizzled from him much like a leaky faucet: drop by drop at first, then a burst pipe. Now, he wasn’t sure there was even an ounce left.
You batted your lashes at him. “C’mon, you’re really going to make me get off myself?”
Okay. Now he was absolutely certain any and all sense had drained from him.
Eren swallowed hard. “Will this help you get over him? Because I’d really like to never see him again.”
Yeah, that worked. That was how he’d justify it: he was merely helping you out. Nothing more. Then things would be fixed, and everything would go back to normal. Better, even, because now he wouldn’t have to deal with your ex-boyfriend anymore.
“Mhm,” you murmured, but desire had been lowly buzzing between your legs for the better half of the evening, leaving you fuzzy enough to agree to anything he said. Anything to keep the fire in you alive and burning. But right then, you weren’t sure if there was anything—no body of water great enough—that could douse it. You didn’t mind; you found pleasure in it because at least you weren’t burning alone.
You went to kiss him again, but Eren dodged it with a small tick of his head.
“You just told me you liked this,” he said. “But now you’re willing to risk it? What if this is a mistake?”
He was still struggling to understand you. He always struggled to understand you, even after living with you for over a year, but this was next level. You had him dumbstruck.
Let there be no misunderstanding: Eren wanted this. He was just another twenty-something-year-old guy, of course he wanted this. It was just that he was also very aware of the consequences.
You touched his mouth with the tips of your fingers. His lips were wet with your spit—a combination of yours and his. You pressed down, ever so lightly, to shush him. You didn’t want words; you wanted incoherency. Purposeless and meaningless sounds and syllables, groans pulled from the back of your throats.
“If it’s a mistake, then let’s make it together.”
You invited him with a peck at first, a taste, then he pulled you back in to devour you whole.
Eren kissed the same way he lived: passionately, intensely, maddeningly. He was better at it than your ex, which you didn’t expect. The thought of what else he could do better made your stomach flip.
His palm warmed your cheek as slender fingers wrapped around the back of your head. Like an anchor, it kept your lightheaded self tethered to him. He smelled of sleep, and he smelled like him. The heady scent coiled around you. You inhaled as you kissed him, and when his mouth dipped to the delicate skin behind your ear, you buried your nose in his hair. You imagined your face shoved in his sheets, how they’d smell the same. You’d inhale it then, too, through gasps and an agape mouth.
You smoothed your hands higher on his chest, over his shoulders. Your nails gently scratched at Eren’s back, and even through his T-shirt, it set his nerves ablaze.
The part of his brain demanding he pump the breaks finally shut down, his entire body thrilled by it. It was all physical, fueled by carnal desire. He acted solely on what he wanted, and that was for your lips to stay exactly where they were. To stop you now would feel like abandoning a hearth in the winter. Instead of taking his hands against your shoulders, pushing you away to create some distance, he molded them around your hips.
You clasped your hands around his larger ones and placed them on your ass. You squeezed down on them, encouraging him to fondle you—to feel you—and he took to it as if he’d already thought about everywhere he’d like to grab.
Mistake or not, Eren knew if he ended it now, the palms of his hands would feel hollow the second you’d left them.
You didn’t bother debating between bedrooms and made the decision easy by heading for the couch. If you were being honest, you’d thought about fucking on this couch before—not with Eren obviously. The cushions were deep-set and roomier than most. It was evident you and Mikasa didn’t spend a fortune on it, but at least it was firm and wouldn’t give too much beneath you. You felt like it was made for fucking but respected your roommates enough not to give it a spin. But with Eren, everything was shared. Everything belonged to you and him. You could do it wherever you wished.
Eren laid you back on the couch and positioned himself above you. You wriggled below him, attempting to make any space for him to fit between your legs. It was nearly impossible in such restricting denim. You mumbled a ‘hold on’ into his mouth as you darted your hands down for the button. He was eager to assist. Once your jeans were undone, he pulled them past your knees, freeing one leg so you could kick them off the other.
Settled between your legs, Eren kissed you again, and you tasted the desire on each other’s tongues. His sweats did little to hide how hard, and heavy, he was against your leg. You imagined if you slipped a hand below his waistband you would find he wasn’t wearing boxers.
You bunched his shirt in your fist. You tugged at the hem of it, lifting it out of your way so you could greedily glide your hand beneath. Tracing between the divots of his abs, you felt the way they tensed as you trailed higher up his chest. Once it was established that it wasn’t needed, Eren sat back on his calves to peel it over his head, and it was on the floor a second later. Yours was next, but it was a bit more complicated than his cotton tee.
“What the fuck,” he muttered once he realized it wasn’t coming off. He fiddled with the strings tied around your neck, more frantic to get under the fabric with his fingers and tongue than he was concerned with being romantic. “How did you even get this thing on?”
“Sasha helped,” you relied matter-of-factly, though a bit breathless.
Did she have to knot it this many times?
You arched your back as Eren slipped his hands beneath you, blindly reaching for any of the ties. The straps had been digging into your shoulders all night, marking your skin with soft indentations. With every slackened string there was a sense of relief until, eventually, Eren had the shirt bunched around your midsection, your tits out. That was what mattered to him; he could figure out the rest later.
He cupped your breast in his hand and brought his mouth to it. Your skin was supple and smooth under his impatient lips, balmy and warm from pressing your bodies together. With a pointed tongue, he flicked over your nipple. When it was perked, he sucked lightly until your breathing began to flutter. He pulled off you with a pop, thumbing over your nipple as he turned to gift his attention to the other.
Eren’s touch was resolute, weighed down by hunger as his hand mapped its way down your side. It both unnerved and ignited you—the titillating vulnerability that came with being with someone new; how he caressed you for the purpose of exploring, seeing for himself what you liked best.
Heat pooled in your stomach. Lapped at you like the tides, though far less tranquil. Summery waters lured you in, kept you still and contented beneath Eren, kissing him, letting him kiss you, everywhere. From your neck and the dip in the center of your collarbone, focusing the most on your breasts. Then at your hipbones next, where it tickled the most. He must have liked the sound you made, reminiscent of an airy giggle, because he grazed his teeth there, pulling the noise from you again.
But as was certain, the tides would ebb; tepid waves turned to sea swells. Deep in your stomach, that dull yet glowy ache begged you to do something about it, your hips kneading into him, inviting him to tear off your underwear and fuck you already.
Eren leaned back when his fingers met your underwear. He hooked the band of them with his index finger, toyingly sliding it along your stomach. On instinct, you twitched, feeling frustratingly helpless to him. You bit back a strangled murmur along with a hiss urging him to get on with it.
Though your panties separated you and him, his eyes were still transfixed on where you wanted him most. And he knew how badly you wanted him there by the telling damp spot on the fabric.
Eren pressed the pad of his thumb to it, his other fingers rested atop your pelvis. He made soft circles against you, slow and testing. He observed every flick and flinch in your expression, his mouth slightly slacked in a smile that widened with your whimpers.
When he finally started to remove your underwear, it revealed just how wet you were for him—for your roommate. The back of your neck fevered when you noticed the lewd string connecting you to the soaked fabric. Eren snapped it with his thumb, and your humiliation only worsened when you watched him bring it to his mouth.
He didn’t anticipate going down on you. You only wanted to get off, and so did he, and a quick fuck would more than achieve that. But as he played with your clit, your tiny moans had him craving to hear how you sounded when you were wrecked, sobbing out for more. And with the way you were spread and dripping below him—well, he wouldn’t want any of it to go to waste. Not with how sweet you tasted.
So without hesitation, Eren dove between your thighs, gripping your hips and pulling you against the heat of his mouth.
Immediately, you throw your head back. It bumped the armrest with a thud loud enough to catch Eren’s attention. He glanced up to check on you, and right then, you found the sight of him inexplicitly striking. You didn’t know why, but it was as if his piercing eyes had pinned you to the spot for him, like he had control despite being down between your legs. You went blind to anything but him and his eyes, dazzlingly green against the flush tinting his cheeks.
Once he realized you were all right—it didn’t faze you one bit—Eren pressed a kiss against your clit before swiping his tongue through you. You shivered as he licked you with broad, lazy strokes of his tongue, savoring you, the button tip of his nose nudging your clit.
“Oh, God,” you breathed sharply, chin tucked to your chest, following it with a series of heavenly moans that were anything but holy.
Eren parted you with two fingers. He added more pressure with his tongue and swirled it around your clit. You screwed your lips together rather than allowing another cry to spill from you. It bubbled in your throat, and you swallowed thickly to keep it at bay before the neighbors could learn how debauched you sounded when Eren made you come. But when he closed his lips around your clit, sucking gently, you had no choice but to bite your knuckle instead.
Admittedly, you had wondered if he was actually talented at this or if the girls on the other side of his bedroom walls were only trying to boost his ego. He answered your inexplicit question by delving his tongue inside you, fucking you with it.
“Don’t stop,” you rushed to choke out, your back curving up from the cushions. “I’m almost there.”
Closer. You needed him closer.
You clung your hand to his head, raked your fingers through his hair. The useless tie slipped from it as you disheveled his bed head further. You pushed back the pieces that hid him from you, tugging as you angled him to the spot that made your thighs quiver.
“Do that again,” Eren breathed, fanning the command over you.
You did. He groaned, and you felt the couch shift as he rutted into it.
Your stomach contracted, that last gasp hitching in your lungs. Whatever glorious thing he was doing with his tongue felt like fire licking up your spine. He brought you to the very brink of becoming undone until you were writhing as you teetered it.
It was slick between your legs, you and the cushion beneath you drenched in your arousal and saliva. Eren’s mouth slipped around the more you wiggled. It didn’t matter where he held you, how deep his fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, he couldn’t keep you still. At this rate, you’d fall off the couch, undoubtedly taking him with you.
Eren wrapped his hands around the backs of your knees, pinning them to your chest in a reminder to hold them out of his way. You replaced his hands with your own, whining when you felt his fingers at your slit. He glided them between you, coating them until they slipped right inside. He dragged them in and out of you, increasing his speed until he discovered the tempo that made you pulse around him. Then he curled them, just right, aiding his tongue in driving you to your release.
“I’m coming—fuck, I’m coming,” you whispered, ragged and hardly audible at the end.
Eren sounded equally muffled, groaning as you started rolling your hips over his mouth. You heard him mumbling, but it was distant and overshadowed by your heart thrumming in your ears. You couldn’t make out what he was saying—something about how fucking hot it was—but you felt his raspy timbre vibrating against you as you shattered.
Your legs dropped to your sides, quivering as you rode out the final pulses of your orgasm. You closed your eyes, unable to focus on anything but finding your breath.
Eren planted a long kiss against you, easing you down with wet, open-mouthed kisses, trailed from your inner thighs to below your navel. Each sent another shock through you. He continued until you were face-to-face again.
“How was that?” Eren asked. He was cheeky with it, grinning and everything, so you responded by flicking his bicep.
He was still smug about it as he tilted to kiss beneath your jaw, intermittently nibbling at your earlobe. You lolled your head back, offering the expanse of your neck to him. But when you saw him reach for the band of his sweatpants, you rested a hand against his arm.
It took him a second, but when it clicked, he said, “Condom. Right,” and pushed himself off the couch.
Your shirt was still gathered around your midsection, clammy and sticking to your skin. You wriggled free of it, shimmying it over your head before you flung it to the opposite side of the room. It felt wrong to lay on the couch like this, bare and fully exposed. You thought to cover up with a blanket but reminded yourself there was no point; it’d be on the floor, just like everything else, in a matter of minutes.
You were still lying there, fidgety and a bit limp, when Eren returned. He was rustling with the condom wrapper as he joined you on the couch. Calmly as ever, like he’d done it a million times before, he lifted your legs to make room, setting them over his lap as he sat beside you. He smirked to himself when he noticed you were shaky in his grasp.
Eren leaned in as you rose to meet him. One of his hands supported your lower back while his other trailed up your inner thigh. His fingertips ghosted over the spots he had tasted not long ago until he was back between your legs, almost like he had never left. You melted into him with a dreamy sigh the instant he began to rub gently, placing his lips to yours as he did.
You looped your arms around his neck. His hand left your back, and you heard the familiar crinkling as he reached for the condom.
Eren reveled in every flimsy little breath you let spill into his mouth. He tightened his circles, expertly attuned to your clit. He gauged your reaction, noticing when your lips began to stutter against his own. He felt them curve into a small ‘o’ as he picked up where you couldn’t—kissing you, sucking your tongue, skimming his teeth along it, until your angelic sounds turned depraved.
The intensity at which Eren wanted this—wanted you—surprised him. You had barely spoken in eleven days, and he spent the better of the night grumbling and bitter about it, positive you’d never want to see him again. Now, it was as if you never wanted to leave his lap, and he wasn’t sure he’d let you. He could play with your perfect pussy all night; so perfect that he had no choice but to give you a taste; how warm and wet and soft you were around his fingers; how you’d feel even better around his cock.
Just thinking about it had him rutting into your leg, just once, in a helpless search for friction.
Eren caught your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted you away from his lips as he spoke against the side of your face. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Your face was puckered, squishing your languid and needy, “Yes.”
He angled your jaw further. “Then tell me how you want it.”
You felt his lips tickle over your pulse point. Kissing it, sucking it, nipping at it.
“Fuck,” you cursed on an agonizingly long hiss.
“Well obviously.” Eren gave a breathy laugh. The vibrato of it echoed through you. “Look at me.” You did, as much as you could; he was still cupping your face. “How do you want me to fuck you.”
You shook his hand off, panting, “I want it rough.” Grabbing him by the shoulder, you pulled him down until he collapsed over you. You smoothed his hair back before taking his face between your hands. You wanted to see the reaction in his eyes when you told him, “Let me feel it.”
You said it as if you’d thought about it before. Eren couldn’t help but wonder if your ex did, in fact, have a reason to worry. He told himself it was a problem for tomorrow and didn’t question it again. Tonight, his only obstacle was that he was still in his sweatpants, but it was swiftly resolved when you both reached for them.
Once they were gone, Eren sloppily licked his palm. You’d almost call it crass if it didn’t shamefully turn you on, watching him wrap his hand around his cock. His eyelashes fluttered at the small bit of release. He fisted himself a few times, unbothered by your blatant staring, before rolling the condom on.
He had you on your back, your head laid on the armrest again. One of your legs was hitched around his waist, and your other dangled from the couch, creating enough space for him to nestle in between.
You felt him—how hard he was for you—pressed in the crease of your thigh. With a hand around his base, he lined himself up with you. The tip of his cock threatened to push inside you, but he only glided it between your folds in one slow, encompassing stroke. And just as slowly, an overwhelming warmth tingled down your spine.
Eren continued toying with your clit. The condom’s lube and your wetness made it easy for the head of his cock to slip between you, to dip inside and tease you. But it wasn’t long before he was only teasing himself. Teeming with anticipation, you were already clenching around him so nicely, and he hadn’t even put more than the tip in.
It wasn’t like he was any better. When Eren felt your heel dig into his lower back, wordlessly pleading with him to fuck you, he succumbed. Not with a tilt of his hips but with one plunging thrust.
Your mouth hinged open, but nothing came out. Your wilted gasp was lost somewhere in the depths of your throat. You swallowed it down before you could choke.
Caged between his arms, you were close enough to catch the slight tremble in his biceps, only once he had filled you, entirely, his body flush against your own. Above you, Eren’s eyes squeezed shut. His lips parted in a shaky, dare you say it, beautiful sigh. Thrilled, your muscles naturally spasmed around the thick of him.
Eren stilled to adjust to you; your sensitive, needy pussy wasn’t making it easy on him. Of course, you felt fucking amazing. Just as good as he imagined, but so much tighter when he split you on his cock, not with his fingers.
He took his sweet time pulling out of you, losing himself a little more as he went, ensuring you felt every inch of him, just to bury inside you generously again.
Eren fucked you with smooth rolls of his hips. And God, it was effortless how he slid into you, over and over, thanks to how wet you were. You scraped at the cushion as if it were a bed sheet, as if you could twist the taut fabric between your fingers to ground yourself.
Once Eren discovered a pace that had you both breathing harder, his head dropped. You took it as an opportunity to muffle your moans, mouthing over his neck, right where it met his shoulder. You kissed him there, flattening your hands against his back to hold him to your mouth like you wanted him to smother you.
His skin tasted salty against your tongue. If he kissed you now, you were sure you’d taste the same, the heat between you growing feverish the more you ground against each other in a sticky lust.
When the blunt of your teeth dragged over his skin, you’d argue the groan he gave tapered into a low whimper. So you did it again, harsher this time. You bit down on him, the lean muscle giving easily, and it kept you quiet enough. It did pull another sound from Eren, though. He muttered some incoherent curses you couldn’t make out, and you would have thought you hurt him if not for the way his steady thrusts sped into pounding.
The couch was a tricky place to have sex, but you knew that already. You made it more complicated than it needed to be, forgoing the two bedrooms you had at your disposal, full-sized beds and all, and cramped yourselves onto this sofa because you couldn’t keep your greedy hands to yourselves long enough to think ahead.
Already, this position wasn’t going to work. Half of you had slipped from the couch, even more with each of Eren’s thrusts. He’d hoist you back into place only for you—the pathetic, squirmy thing you were—to falter over the edge again. Only your ass at first, then it was your whole leg. Then the process would repeat.
Eren sat back slightly. He closed his hands around your waist and yanked you to him, further down onto his cock.
With a yelp, your head fell from the armrest and lightly bounced against the cushion. He replaced it with your hands, pinning them high above your head with a sturdy grasp on your wrist. Your knees threatened to clamp around him, and he used his other hand to hold you open for him, gripping the fat of your inner thigh.
“Keep ‘em spread for me,” Eren growled. “Wider.”
You liked how his voice sounded right then, almost like gravel. You’d never heard it like that, all raspy and weighed down by his lust. That and the subtle pinch in his brow gave away just how turned on he was.
You fucked like that for… You weren’t sure how long exactly. Time was irrelevant after three a.m. anyway, wasn’t it? One particularly good thrust—his hips sputtering and grinding against you as if he could go any deeper—had his elbow buckling. Unable to hold himself up and continue his ruthless pace, he chose neither and flipped you onto your stomach.
Eren tossed you onto the armrest. You planted your forearms into it, propping yourself up. You felt his hand at the center of your back, forcing a nice bend in it for him. He smoothed it down lower, taking a handful of your ass and indulgently spreading you just to watch him disappear inside.
Too weak to hold your head up, you let it drop between your shoulders, gritting a wakened, “Fuck—you’re deep.”
When he sank into you fully, bottoming out, the head of his cock brushed the spot that had you briefly seeing stars.
Eren slowed at your dubious remark, unsure what to make of it. The moment he did, you made it clear, demanding, “Keep going.”
He began ramming into you, his hand still searing into your spine. You were too far gone, too focused on coming again, to hold back any longer. The noises that poured from you were pornographic. Short and breathy bleats of ‘right there, right there’ as his cock set sparks between your legs.
Your fingers flexed and relaxed around nothing, nails piercing the meat of your palms fiercely enough to leave them tender. You didn’t know if you needed him harder or faster, and through a few choked gasps, you could only wail a pleading, “Fuck me.”
You emphasized it by rocking back into him, smushing the back of your thighs against the front of his. It said enough.
Eren’s hands found your hips and settled into the crease where they met your stomach.
“Let me know if it’s too much.”
He was so casual that it almost irritated you. Whatever snippy comment you wanted to make, you kept it to yourself for the sake of getting off again. And you were glad you did because you would have eaten your words not a second later.
Eren fucked you with one foot planted into the floor, and his opposite on the couch cushion. His first thrust stole your breath; the second knocked it back into you. He took you from behind, sealing every rut of his hips by jerking you back on his cock. In the tangled spot where ‘too much’ became ‘yes, yes, yes!’ you were lost in messy throes of pleasure.
The sound of smacking skin was more severe than even your loudest of cries. Between, you could hear Eren’s grunts and huffs through his nose, restrained, but telling of just how riled up he was to be ravaging you like this. You closed your eyes and tuned into how good you were making him feel.
Your eyes shot open when you felt your upper body slipping over the armrest, your body lurching forward with the brutal snapping of his hips. You extended a hand to the floor, the wood cool under your clammy palm, to brace yourself. And bent over that armrest, your ass perched in the air for him, you let him have you.
Eren didn’t let you hang there long, just long enough for the blood to rush to your head a bit. You were blinking and dizzy as he gracelessly swung you upright, maneuvering you so you were straddling his lap. You went with him, willingly and submissively.
You lifted to your knees before Eren seized you by the waist to impale you on his cock. You gripped his biceps as a wispy moan left you—something like an ‘ah–hah’ as a loose smile tickled at the corners of your ajar lips. Once you’d finished pulsing around him, he took care of the rest, working you up and down over his length.
He looked you squarely in the face, jaw tight and eyelids heavy with a determined look of lust. You wanted to clear the hair from his face, but before you could, you were kissing again, roughly and carelessly, with him humming as you licked into his open mouth.
When you pulled away, you were panting. Saliva connected his lips to yours. Eren’s eyes flitted down, briefly distracted by your tits, before returning to your face.
“You look good like this,” Eren told you, his voice a bit strained. He snapped the spitty string with a flick of his chin.
“Like what?” you tried to sass, but it came out warbled as he bounced you on his cock. “Getting fucked by you?”
“Exactly,” he panted through a smug half-grin. “Gonna think about this—you taking my cock so fucking good—every time I jerk off.”
That mental image did things to you.
“Mm, fuck,” you groaned, long and sweet, your teeth bearing down on your bottom lip. You shoved a hand between your legs. “I’m close—keep talking.”
If your head wasn’t tossed back, you would have wanted to slap the sick smile off Eren’s face. He would have never suspected you’d be into dirty talk.
“Oh, yeah? Gonna come again?” You nodded dumbly. “Playing with yourself—whining on top of me but can’t get there on your own, huh? Need me to tell you to come, don’t you, pretty girl?”
The words were heavy on his breath and settled in the depths of your chest.
“Yes,” you breathed, rubbing at yourself desperately.
You sensed Eren was enjoying this—uttering filth to you—as much as you did, perhaps even more. His hips sputtered as they bucked into yours, as if he wasn’t already rashly pulling you against him, stuffed to the hilt. You could already see the reddened, blotchy marks this would leave on his thighs, an unavoidable consequence of fucking like animals.
“I wanna hear you say it.”
You started rolling your hips. “I need you to make me come—please make me come.”
His cock jolted inside you, but he didn’t relent. He wanted to play with you a bit longer.
“Tell me how pretty—ah—how pretty you’re gonna look coming on my cock.”
You were right fucking there. So close that you’d do just anything—say anything. It’d spill out of you like a babbly, drooly mess of course, but you’d say it.
“So pretty—” Your shiver reverberated through your whimper, your insides ignited. “I’ll look so pretty for you when I come.”
“Fuck yeah, you are.” He punctuated it with a firm slap on your ass. You didn’t feel it because you were coming, deliriously hard.
You sounded pitchy and whiny and you just knew Eren would tease you for it in the future. You wished you could cover your mouth, but you were too overwhelmed to do anything but hold on tighter. It hit you in ripples, and you rode out every one of them, carving your nails into Eren’s arms like you could wring out the last drops of your orgasm.
“God damn,” Eren remarked, voice tight, “You needed that one, didn’t you?”
He was right, but you wouldn’t have answered even if you could.
When your shaky comedown finally subsided, it left you in a haze. You fell into him, hooking your chin on his shoulder. Soft, happy hums escaped you while you stayed there, contented, as Eren worked toward his own high.
He could have come two positions ago, but he finally allowed it to well up in the deepest part of his gut. His hands abandoned your hips only for him to lock his arms around you, holding you there to fuck up into.
Eren’s breathing began to pick up, his chest heaving against you. His thrusting turned erratic until he pumped into you one last time, deep, and kept you flush to him. It was your name on his tongue, the word he buried into your neck as he groaned from the back of his throat.
You felt him throbbing inside you as he emptied into the condom. Gradually, he moved you over his length a few times to ease himself down. After, he started to lift you off his lap. His oversensitive cock slipped from you, tearing a tiny hiss from him. When he let you go, you crumpled to the couch.
You stayed like that for a minute, staring at the ceiling, hand folded over your chest as you timed your racing heart. By the time it evened, Eren patted your leg and stood up.
He went to the bathroom; you knew it because you saw the fluorescent light seep into the hallway. You listened to the faucet turn on, then searched for your underwear and a blanket.
You’d already wrapped yourself in a fleece and snuggled into the couch by the time Eren returned. Your eyes lazily followed him as he pulled on his sweatpants and double-checked that you locked the door when you came home.
He flicked the light off, but when he realized you weren’t following him to your respective bedrooms, he turned back to ask, “Aren’t you coming to bed?”
You didn’t want to get up yet, whether it was because you were too sleepy, or because your body felt too doughy to walk, or because the thought of tomorrow now felt like a threat.
“No,” you told him. You tugged the blanket to your nose and nuzzled into it. “Not yet.”
“Okay.”
You figured that was that, but then you saw him head to the other side of the couch. It shuddered beneath his weight as he slumped into its cushions. When you sat up to look at him, he answered your question before you could open your mouth.
“I’ll stay here then, too,” he said cooly.
“Why?”
Eren thought on it, and though he didn’t decide on an answer, he was just as content with, “I don’t know. Just want to.”
Everything was silver in the moonlight, barely sneaking in through the cracks in the blind. All the color had been smudged away like ink, except for Eren’s eyes. You made out the glint in them as he wittily quoted you from earlier.
You smiled. “But I thought you were mad at me for waking you up.”
“I got over it,” he said with a leisurely shrug. “Besides, for some odd reason, I’m not so tired anymore.”
You laughed lightly through your nose, and Eren tossed you a small smile in return.
He was still shirtless—not that you minded, there was no point in modesty now—with an arm sprawled along the back of the couch. His breaths were no longer heavy, neither of yours were, but you could tell he was still cooling off from your pornstar sex because he was quick to tie his hair up again. Neater this time, with every strand up and off the nape of his neck.
His neck.
Eren noticed the way your eyes widened. It freaked him out. “What?”
You stifled a cackle. “That’s a nasty hickey you got there, Eren.”
He frowned. “Shit.” He started pawing at his neck, looking down as if he could possibly see it. “Is it that bad?”
“A little.” You leaned in to poke it, but he swatted you away. It only made you giggle harder as you said, “Hey, can you put on our show? The one I like.”
“You don’t even know the name of it! How can you say you like it?”
“I know it! I just—can’t remember it right now,” you said both confidently and sheepishly, if that was even possible.
He raised his eyebrow at you; you didn’t like it. “So I was just that good, huh?”
You snatched one of the pillows and launched it at his head. “I thought we said we weren’t going to make this weird!”
As you said it, Eren broke out into the sort of laughter you only heard from someone occasionally, one that made it feel like you could get back to the way things were—before everything.
And they would, just as Eren hoped. Except now, he had a pretty good solution for the next time he pissed you off.
thank you for reading ♡
#eren x reader#eren jaeger x reader#eren yeager x reader#eren smut#eren jaeger smut#eren yeager smut
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…more Eren drabbles 18+
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(I will be posting more of these short drabbles to practice writing smut since I’m new to all of this, I do appreciate feedback especially on ways I can better myself so if you have any let me knoww🤡)
⛓ DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CONTINUING TO READ, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING ADULT CONTENT AND THE CONTENT STATED IN CONTENT WARNINGS DOWN BELOW ⛓
pairing: fem!reader x roommate!eren
cw: masturbation (f), overstimulation, mating press, use of the word whore, squirting.
The sounds of your wet pussy squelching are filling the room, your roommate Eren had caught you masturbating and moaning his name. Since he was such a good roommate, he decided to help you out and give you what you were desperately wanting.
“P-Please Eren slo- slow down”
Instead of slowing down, Eren stands up and decides it would be good to fuck you in the air. This position has you stuck, nowhere to go and nothing else to do but take all of his cock. Just the way Eren likes you.
You look at Eren with pleading glistening eyes. “Please, it’s -Ah- t-too much!”
Eren looks back at you with cold eyes. “No it’s not. I’ll show you too much.”
His pace quickens. Eren is drilling your pussy so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs, you cry into his shoulder. He is reaching so deep into you in this position, you feel his tip assaulting your cervix with each hard merciless thrust. Your hole clenches around him and before you know it, you’re shaking and squirting uncontrollably all over him. He still doesn’t stop, he intends to fuck you through this orgasm, and the next one, and the one after until you’re a cockdrunk little whore. He puts you down on the bed, before you know it you’re folded into a mating press. Eren continues the hard drilling, your hole is drooling and gushing all over his cock but it’s not enough for Eren. He won’t stop until you will never be satisfied with anything but his veiny cock, ever again.
pairing: fem!reader x eren
cw: brat taming, orgasm denial, slow fucking use of the word fucktoy in reference to reader and also the word brat, overstimulation, use of vibrator, anal creampie.
Your whimpering and begging is filling the room, but Eren doesn’t budge. Your arousal is dripping all over him and running down your thighs, god knows how long that vibrator has been inside your overstimulated pussy. Eren has you on top of him, sinking down on him slowly, taking his entire length into your ass as his white cum drips out of your hole. He lifts you up easily with his strong veiny arms, only to let you sink down again slowly, more cum drips out. It seems your ass is full of it, every time you sink down it just keeps dripping out of you.
“Please Eren, I wanna cum. I’ve been so good” you whimper.
“No, be quiet and take your punishment. Brats don’t get to cum, they get used as fucktoys.“
Eren is close to cumming in your tight little overstimulated hole again, you clench so nicely around him every time he bottoms out. You want to bounce harder, you’re so close to climax you can practically taste it. The painfully slow setting on the vibrator isn’t helping either. But he won’t let you, he is much bigger than you and it’s easy for him to overpower you and hold you in place..which is exactly what he is doing.
When Eren shoots another load of cum into your ass, you’re so sensitive you quiver and clench around his twitching dick, even the cum dripping down makes you react. You’re so desperate for some friction, so sensitive any small movement does something to you.
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#eren x y/n#Eren smut#eren jeager x y/n#eren yeager#eren yeager smut#aot smut#Eren jaeger smut#Eren Drabble
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