#and sadly why my expectations are through the mf roof when I read fanfics

[sintiva]

you all don't understand how many times I've came back to read this chapter

god this is the best peace of fiction I have ever read in my life, and this is the reason why eren is my number one. no other compares. juni deserves every award one can get for fiction books when it comes to literature.

The Worthy — Eren Jaeger (14)

Chapter Fourteen: Velveteen Rabbit

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Reader

Word Count: 16.1k

Series Summary: Reader is reaching a point in her relationship where sex is coming up in conversation. but she’s an inexperienced virgin. And who’s better to show her the ropes than her best friend Eren?

Chapter Summary: "You don’t know when it would happen, or how, but you knew that it would… and it would be with him." (The Worthy, Chapter Thirteen)

Content: Unestablished Relationship, Mutual Pining, Smut

Content Warnings: Hyper-Sexuality, Smut, (Virginity Loss, Corruption Kink, Protected Sex, Handjob, Nipple Play, Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Digital Penetration, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Slight Humiliation, Dirty Talk, Voice Kink)

Author's Note: Reminder that I've moved my blog to @juniverses and will be posting all future fics on there ! I will continue to post this series on this account for consistency.

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Eren had begun to lose count of how many times he had found you standing within his doorframe after he tugged it open in response to the rhythmic rapping of knuckles along the wood. It was time and time again, repetitive and tedious; he would have found it annoying if it was anyone other than you that was behind those knocks.

It happened so often, so regularly, that there was only one other time where he was startled by your arrival besides your very first show all those months ago, and it was that of your first show after his first witness of your first flashbacks—which you argued, weren’t flashbacks at all. So many firsts and so many new experiences that firsts and novelties began to grow expected when he found himself with you. Your firsts began to grow into his as well, because although he was years ahead of you in experience despite being the same age, these would be the first times he would experience something like this with someone like you.

You knock, gently, for the twelfth time in the three weeks that have passed since your first episode. It sounds the same as every other one you’ve done, having mastered the pattern and intensity after finally growing used to the sparking of your nerves whenever you show for him. You aren’t sure what you’ve come to him for this time, but then again, you’ve stopped the excuses and admit to yourself that just wanting to spend time with him is a good enough reason.

Eren doesn’t complain about your increasing desire for platonic time together, and he doesn’t grow bored of you after your visits grow less and less reliant on sexual advances, he’s over the moon for every passing second he gets to see you content in the purest of forms.

Being able to see his television screen flicker in the whites of your eyes as you intently watch whatever show has been put on makes his heart flutter in the most delightful of ways. Watching the corners of your mouth turn up as you shy away from his gaze after he shamelessly flirts with you sends warmth spreading through his veins. And getting to see you laugh until you can’t while the two of you horse around while playing board games makes the lack of sexual pleasure from another being all worthwhile. Eren’s grown tired of his fist, but not tired of you.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here?” He asks softly, a gentle smile teasing his lips as his eyes look over your figure.

Dressed in one of his shirts—the one that he gave you a week or so ago after you had a nasty spill of Chinese food over your own shirt during one of your movie marathons—and a pair of fleece sweatpants, Eren felt his heart swell in his chest. He’s learned over these weeks that the more casual your attire seemed to be, the more time you had planned to spend at his house. This was by far the most comfortable of clothes he had seen you in.

“Because I’ve been here three times within the past week, and this will be my fourth,” You explain to him as if he didn’t know the said information. You look him into the eyes as you speak, playful, unafraid.

“Hm… you have a point, get in here,” He says, grasping the side of the door and pushing it open further as he steps aside. You step into his home without hesitation, keeping your eyes on his pretty face as you do so. Eren closes the door behind you, locking it as you slip your shoes off, “Oh, I need your help picking out a cake for Armin.”

You snicker at the thought of Eren being the one chosen to look at the array of cakes waiting to be picked for the blonde boy’s birthday, then you settle and smile when you think about Armin’s face being lit up by twenty colorful candles that will sit atop the said cake.

“Annie’s in charge of the whole birthday operation. She assigned Mikasa and me to cake-picking and invitations,” Eren seems to have read your thoughts, “We’ve both procrastinated.”

Thankfully, procrastination explains why you haven’t received an invitation yet, which saves you from quite a bit of awkwardness. And you’re once again reminded of how many traits Eren and Mikasa do truly share from being raised under the same household; from blind impulsivity to simply putting things off for too long. Even for their best friend’s birthday, they can’t seem to get things done for their lives.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. ‘Min is turning twenty and Miks and I have both put off birthday prep, He continues, “Can’t blame us. We’ve all been a bit distracted lately.” He shoots you a flirty glance.

You fight back the urge to make a suggestive comment; only a bit wary of what would happen if you decided to rile him up; not because you were afraid of him, but you were afraid of yourself and what you would choose to do if Eren kept it up.

Many times throughout your weeks with Eren where you’ve come over to spend time in his home and in his presence, you’ve both gotten quite playful with each other. There were lingering glances, intimate touches, teasing words, and raising tensions, but nothing more than that. There was touching and kissing and desperation, but there wasn’t anything more—no plunging fingers or pumping hands, no licking tongues or suckling mouths. It was strange intimacy; consistent friendship with brief bursts of need and sexuality. Perhaps that is what friends-with-benefits is truly like, and the idea of more was terrifying but enticing.

“Twenty sounded so old when we were kids.” You finally say as you slide yourself into one of the counter stools that’s tucked beneath the breakfast bar of his kitchen counter. The granite is cool beneath your forearms as you rest them before you, settling in to watch Eren as he rounds the same counter to stand before you but on the other side.

He rests his phone flat, screen side up, on the counter that’s just a step below yours to be level with the sink. He leans into his palms that press flat on the surface, looking down to the screen that displays pictures of pretty pastries and dainty confectionaries upon a website named Trost’s Treats. Shamefully, you admit that the sweets aren’t the only desirable thing that sits before you. Eren’s hands, broad palms, long fingers, and arms littered with attractive veins and lean muscle, already begin to distract you.

“I’ll still pretend it sounds old just to be able to tease him for it for a few more months,” Eren looks up from his phone and to you, moving only his eyes. His hair, freed from the band that usually ties it out of his face, now falls before his eyes and leaves you with only slivers of jade that peek from behind the dark strands.

You scoff, rolling your eyes teasingly before leaning forward on your forearms to get a look at his screen. You can feel the presence of his head just in front of yours, and your eyes struggle to stay on the images below you as his hands remain flexed against the countertop; tendons and veins swelling under the pressure.

You slide an arm out from under your chest and turn the phone slightly to straighten the colorful pictures. Then, with a lone finger, you swipe along the screen to survey the album of potential cakes of choice.

“What kind of cake does he want?” You ask quietly, eyes following the screen as you scroll.

“I have no idea, but Armin seems like a red velvet kind of guy, if you ask me,” Eren says, following your lead and carefully inspecting every dessert that slides into his vision.

“Mhm. White frosting though, with blue lettering,” You add, pointing to a design that shows exactly what you described.

Each cake is different, sometimes drastically and sometimes only slightly. The one you point at is one with more basic lettering and decor; thin-lined cursive spelling out Happy ‘#’th’ Birthday ‘Name’ in delicate baby blue frosting in the center, and bordering the cake is the same shade of blue puffing around the edges and lining the sides.

It was pure and simple, celebratory in a manner that wasn’t flashy or phony; it was easy to picture Armin’s name and age replacing the stand-ins. Delicate, sophisticated, lovely—it was absolutely Armin.

“You’ve been visiting a lot lately,” Eren murmurs as he takes a light hold of his phone to capture a screenshot of the cake. Although the statement is obvious, it’s opened up a conversation that will be much less so.

He’s aware that you appreciate the time spent with him, which would be solid enough reasoning for your increase in visits, but he suspects that something else lurks in your intentions. It isn’t negative or malicious, but rather desperate and dependent. To Eren, it seemed like you weren’t only wanting this time with him, but needing it as well. You craved his attention in a way that was getting far too similar to that of addiction; but who wouldn’t be addicted to a love like his? Who could blame you?

“Are you complaining?” You save yourself with the question. Eren’s statement wasn’t necessarily an inquiry, but you didn’t have the energy to continue on that path of conversation. You couldn’t tell him that you were using him to distract yourself, because you weren’t yet aware of that fact yourself. You refuse to admit that your need for companionship wasn’t only rooted in your admiration for him.

“Always,” Eren chuckles, “If you keep showing up to my house to steal my food and use my Hulu account I’m going to switch units with Mrs. Yahontov from next door just to confuse you.”

“What, so every time I come over wanting to sweet talk you, you want me to be met with the half-naked old woman who only speaks Russian?” You cross your arms back under you and lift your head to see Eren grinning as he scrolls through cakes.

“You come over to sweet talk me?” He raises an eyebrow and lowers his voice to a near purr.

“Depends,” You shrug, “Is it working?”

Eren looks up to you then, hair in his face and cheeks flushed pink. He’s flustered but remains collected as he leans towards you until your noses brush and you’re both glancing down to each other’s lips. You hold your breath, stomach swooping and fists tightening as you watch Eren run his tongue along his bottom lip. He floods your senses; his cologne meeting your nose and his breath tickling your lips.

“Always,” He repeats before pulling away; leaving you with your body leaning over the counter in anticipation. He shocks himself by returning to his task with such an impressive mask of composure despite his heart thrumming against his ribs and blood pounding in his ears.

So soon into your visit, Eren has made the bold choice to tease you, and his bravado has flushed your neck and face hot and sent warmth swimming throughout your stomach. Days like these were few but effective; days when he chose first thing in the morning that he was going to be a little shit and put you on edge. These days were always the ones that led to an escalation of touch, for his choice to tease was encouragement for you to do the same.

He was testing the waters, seeing how far you would push yourself before you grew uncomfortable. You appreciated it because although this testing went unspoken between you two, it allowed you to gauge yourself just like he did. It was just like the beginning, doing things you were comfortable with with the occasional push for more, you were just waiting for that push this time; waiting for the push—whether long-term or short-term—that told you that you need more. Something was going to happen, more was going to happen and you know it. It was in the air, thick and heavy, you could both feel it.

You settle back into your seat, “You’re in a mood today,” Push. You decide to encourage him. You flirt back; testing the waters, dipping your toes into his ocean.

Eren laughs through his nose and shakes his head ever so slightly. It wasn’t harsh enough to be considered a scoff but rests just under the requirements. It was a laugh of disbelief; he wasn’t too sure what to say. The laugh was buying him time to settle his fluster and realize that you were wanting to play. His heart flutters, not only because you’ve grown aware of his playing, but because you’re acknowledging it and playing along as well. When his games aren’t one-sided, where you’re playing and playing to win, that’s his favorite part.

Low in his stomach, thick and heavy, arousal begins to swim. It tickles beneath his waistband and dances up his abdomen until his throat tightens and he’s swallowing down saliva.

“What makes you think that?” He asks when he finally finds his words.

It’s your turn to fumble, for you haven’t thought ahead enough to formulate a response to that possible question. You only meant to acknowledge his behavior, not directly speak of it.

“You’re flirting with me,” You felt like you were breaking the unsaid wall. Addressing it head-on was a rush; would he admit to his doings, or would he bottle it back up to tease a bit more? When the flirting went unsaid, encouraged but not confronted, it was easier. It was so much easier to just do it rather than asking yourself why.

He wants to tell you I flirt with you every day, this isn’t a “mood” but he can’t seem to find his voice.

Eren reaches for his phone until his palm covers the screen, and then clicks it off. He removes his hand to press it back against the counter with the other, leveraging his body on the granite as he leans over it, and looks down to the black mirror for a moment before picking his head up. He doesn’t say a word when your eyes meet, only raises his brows in question like he wasn’t sure what you were getting at.

You know better than to let him get away with faux-confusion, “‘caught red-handed and now you’re quiet, hm?” You grip the edge of the bar as you slide yourself out of your chair and to your feet.

Eren straightens himself out a bit, almost like he’s backing up from you, and turns to the side to face you straight-on as you round the corner and approach him. His right hand still holds onto the granite, gripping the edge a little too tight to seem comfortable; it squeezes a bit tighter once you come towards him, resting your left hand on the counter to mirror him as you both face each other.

He looks down to you, biting his inner cheek to conceal a smirk. He still stands strong, intimidating; a broad chest and a tall figure. If it wasn’t for the flush across his complexion that poured down his face until it disappears down his neckline, you could’ve believed he was unaffected by your opposition. And that blush you see is the only thing keeping you from shrinking before him.

Eren could almost say the same for you. If it wasn’t for your shaky hands or tight chest, he would’ve found himself a lot more nervous than he truly was. He finds comfort in knowing that you’re both on edge; that even though his body is twitching and sparking and there's this tightness in his throat that makes him want to scream, that you’re feeling just the same way.

Oh, how wonderful it is to be so affected by another’s presence; to be so hopelessly in love with someone that their every action strings you up no matter how comfortable you may be with them. It’s insane. With Eren, you know nothing but peace, but you know nothing but stimulation. It was so consistent, it was so exciting. You knew when he would make a move, but you never knew what the move would be.

“‘m just trying to think of what to say,” He admits, ducking his head away from your eye contact and laughing softly, “You make me nervous…”

You tilt your head slightly to the side, like dogs do when they’re baby-talked, and blink a few times as you process his words.

It was safe to say that you were aware of your effect on him, whether it was physical or mental, but hearing it out loud is different; similar to how addressing his flirtatious behavior was different than simply acknowledging it.

“I make you nervous?” You question, trying to maintain the coy tilt in your voice, but it simmers and is overpowered by genuine wonder.

“God, yes. Are you kidding me?” He breathes, laughing softly; relieved to get it out. His head is lifted once more and his body seems to relax despite the increase of pink that spreads across the highs of his face. “I’m like—I’m literally shaking right now.”

Eren removes his right hand from the counter and lifts it up to where his palm is down to the floor and his hand is held between the two of you; and yes, it’s shaking ever so slightly. His fingers twitch and his arm trembles like the weight of it is almost too much to hold up.

Your body warms and you can feel your own limbs growing heavy in their sockets. You want to reach out and touch him, feel his body vibrating beneath your fingertips, but he retracts his hand just as fast as he flung it up like he doesn’t want you looking too close. It was possibly the cutest thing you think you’ve ever seen. You don’t want to get too confident, but seeing Eren get all sweet and blushy filled you with a different sort of pride.

“Why?” You ask, wanting to hear an answer both to know it and for it to boost your ego.

“God,” He laughs, looking to the floor and brushing his hair out of his face, “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

He pulls himself away from the counter’s ledge, hoping you don’t notice how weak his legs have grown in mere moments of coquettish banter. He watches you carefully as he steps before you, taking in your every morphing expression and change in body language so he doesn’t push his limits. When he sees that you turn to face him—with your back to the ledge and your body between his and the counter—he safely assumes that he’s okay to continue. Eren gives you another few passing seconds, last moments to escape into the space that’s left on either side of you that would prevent yourself from being trapped within his arms, then he steps closer; tips of your toes almost touching, faces only breadths away.

“What do I do?” You ask quietly. Your pretty eyes are all wide, glossed over and hazy with arousal from the proximity, and your perfect lips are slicked with your saliva; for you’ve licked and bitten them raw from anticipation.

Eren leans forward, reaching to either side of you to grab the ledge, and properly traps you within his arms. His eyes are heavy, full of desire, and he closes them slowly, too weak to look at you much longer without losing himself. You do the same, tilting your face up, waiting.

“You fuck me up,” He murmurs, inching forward, purposefully nudging your nose with the tip of his.

You wanted the answer for another soar of your pride, a want to have your confidence bumped up another notch, but the answer made you feel small. It had you backing into the edge of the counter and gripping the ledge like it was your anchor to Earth. Your heart thuds and thuds and thuds and you swear there’s so much cotton in your head that your brain’s been replaced with it.

“Yeah?” You say so softly, with such a need in your voice that it comes off as a moan to the boy in front of you. His cock throbs—hard already, leaking and needy. The slightest traces of a moan in your throat is what tells him that this teasing is no longer innocent; it tells him that you’re ready for a push.

“Mhm,” He nods, his hair tickling your face, the scent of his shampoo filling your lungs; coconut, sage.

You only know that his right hand is moving by the way his forearm brushes yours, and then he's wrapping his fingers around your wrist, holding it delicately as he pulls it from your side and between the two of you. And then he’s interlacing his fingers with yours, but his palm is warm against the back of your hand and his fingers don’t weave themselves all the way inward. He’s moving his hand again, pulling it towards him, pulling it down; and you’re met with fabric, soft fabric, but what lies beneath is hard.

Not even a second passes before you realize what he’s having you feel, because it throbs beneath your hand the moment you touch, twitches against your fingers almost immediately. The sensation of his dick, almost fully hard after only the tamest of flirting, draws a soft whimper from deep in your chest.

“‘you feel that?” He murmurs; there’s no more tease in his voice. His words fanning over the bridge of your nose, fluttering your eyelashes as they remain rested against the tops of your cheeks.

You nod quickly, daring to squeeze the length of him softly, “You’re so hard,” You whisper when your fingers are met with the resistance of him.

“That’s what you do to me.” Eren breathes, but it’s uneasy and strained. His abdomen flexes in tension, and his stomach fizzes and sparks where his groin meets his waistline. He can feel himself growing painfully hard beneath your hand, and your gentle palming—now unaided by his own hand—is only aggravating the problem over relieving it.

You’re weak, you’re so weak; it’s like your knees are made of rubber bands and your arms are made of television static. You can barely feel his dick beneath your fingertips, but it’s also the only thing you can feel—firm, warm, thick, long. You’ve felt him before, touched him before, seen him before, but this differed. Your heart was beating faster, body burning hotter, insides churning harder.

The cage his body has built around you—his limbs, the metal bars; his heart, the lock—was so brilliantly suffocating. For without the presence of his enclosure, you would have never known freedom from it. You weren’t locked inside, because although there was a lock chained to his heart, you owned the key. It was a willing entrapment, the fear of freedom far too great for you to be able to bear leaving. So, for now, you wait within your cage that you’ve locked yourself in; tranquil, oblivious, safe.

His arm has returned to the counter, gripping it harder than before, and his hips tilt slightly into your touch as your nails scratch at the skin of his lower stomach in search of the waistband. You keep your eyes shut as your hand searches, afraid you’ll crumble to the floor if you were met with the sight of his flushed face. He hisses as your other hand releases from your side to grasp at the elastic as well, cold fingers brushing against his sweltering skin.

Your hands hesitate, fingers curled around the band of his sweatpants, and remain there as you pitch your face higher to his. You weren’t looking for a kiss, but you received one the moment your lips touched his. He couldn’t resist. Your breath is stolen away, and your fingers involuntarily slip deeper beneath his pants in time with a soft moan escaping your lips and being swallowed by his.

He pulls away after a moment, eyes still closed, and you take the fleeting moment to speak, “Can I—can we try again?” You speak breathily.

Eren’s stomach drops; drops deep to his groin and explodes like fruit dropping onto concrete pavement. If you were asking him what he thought you were, you were going to positively ruin him. He clenches his jaw to fight back a rasped moan, but it still escapes in the form of a sharp exhale. His hips jerk and push forward, rutting into nothing but air.

He swallows hard, “Yeah,” He nods, “Yeah. You lead, okay?”

You murmur a soft, “Okay,” before leaning forward and pressing your mouth to his. Your right hand dips further into his sweats while your left remains latched to his waistband. You struggle only slightly, unable to get your wrist past the resistance of the elastic band due to his height, and have to pull down with your left and rise onto your toes to slide it deeper. Your fingers tickle at the soft fabric of his briefs, not yet breaching to the intimate skin beneath them, as you feel around for the hardness that was just pressed into your palm.

Eren’s arms tremble against the counter when he feels you grasp his length at the same time your tongue slips into his mouth. Your taste invades his tongue, sweet like honey, the nectar of arousal dripping from your saliva. Your hand, gentle, curious, caresses the underside of him with confidence. It wasn’t so much the sensation of your attentive hand that had the coil in his stomach tightening, but rather how headstrong you are; with your willing touch and wanting voice.

Perhaps the faintest bit of pride rolled its way through Eren when he realized that you encouraged that final push forward. All these weeks of repeating that one word over and over again—communication, communication, communication—and you’ve finally gotten it ingrained in your subconscious; doing it without having to be told. He was so proud of his good girl.

“‘wanna jerk you off…” You admit to his lips. He twitches under your fingertips eagerly, answering a question you didn’t have to ask.

“Do it,” He whispers, tilting his hips once more into your hand in time with a chaste kiss.

You take his response and put it into the actions of your hands, palming him with purpose and taking every throb and pulse as encouragement. Every time the tips of your fingers brush over his frenulum, Eren shivers. You can feel his body quiver, his hips tighten, and his lips would soften against yours to the point where you’re convinced he’s lost his ability to kiss you back. He was sensitive.

He inhales sharply through his nose as your hand releases him then finally dips beneath the final layer of fabric. Both of you moan softly into each other’s mouths at the sensation. Your fingers curl around his girth, fingers met with soft skin that contrasts the hardness beneath it, and he was absolutely on fire. His cock was burning with arousal, leaking equally as hot of precum that drips down to your fingers as you hold him.

Your wrist catches on the waistband again, tugging it down with you as your hand dives deeper in search of the base of him. You let out a huff of frustration into Eren’s mouth before pulling away from him to glance down to where your hand is shoved down his pants, adamant about adjusting the waistband for a better grip.

Eren takes notice of your struggle and pulls his hands off the counter to help, “Push it down. Down, get it down,” He mutters, both hands pushing down where the fabric rests on his hips while you tug with your left where your right wrist rests.

It’s slid down to the tops of his thighs. The delicate bones of his hips and the deep divots of his Adonis belt are exposed for the brief moment where his shirt doesn’t fall over them. Your now free left-hand reaches for the draping shirt, pushing it up his stomach desperately to try and keep him exposed to you. He aids you, using a hand to hold it up for you so you can return to the more important task at hand.

With his hands holding up his shirt and returning back to the counter, yours wrapped around his cock and the other resting against his stomach, and his sweatpants now secured beneath his hips, you begin to slowly pump your hand around the length of him. Eren watches carefully, jaw slacked and eyelids heavy, eyes following your lithe fingers as they grip him tight enough to draw breathy moans from his throat.

You can feel every tensing of his abdominals, the way the lean muscle hardens beneath your fingertips as you rest a hand on his navel. And Christ, his dick; seeing it held between your fingers, blushed a pretty red, littered with enticing veins, and slicked with the precum that’s leaked from him, has your own body responding involuntarily. Your insides are warm and gooey, and they flutter and tighten in sync with the twitching of him. Your heart aches with need, and your entire being craves him.

“Fuck me,” Eren mutters as your thumb swipes over his tip. He couldn’t stop it from escaping his lips. Your body resting so close to his, pretty hands that wrap around his cock, and the energy that leaks from your body—positive, intoxicating, beautiful—they all engulf him. Your touch was different from when you had first taken hold of him; then, it was unknowing, unaware of its power, but now you’re determined, filled with intent, conscious of your effect on him. It drove him insane.

His voice travels straight south, running quickly through your veins and ending in a throb of your insides. That, and the pulsing of his cock that follows, has your knees buckling and your hold around him weakening. The nails of your opposite hand dig into the fragile flesh of his navel for support, but only draws a sharp hiss from his lips.

Your willingness and enthusiasm towards pleasuring him were some of his favorite traits that he’s been exposed to within your experimenting. Knowing that you receive gratification from the stimulation you were providing him had his entire body on edge. Sure, it got him off when he got you off, but knowing that it went both ways was intoxicating.

“Gimme a kiss,” He murmurs, lifting his right hand from the counter and taking a gentle hold of your jaw before you even get the chance to register his words. You whine against his lips, and your hand has even more trouble keeping a steady rhythm, but you kiss him back despite it.

You’ve always been good at multitasking, but trying to do so when the tasks were split between kissing him, jerking his cock, and trying to stop your knees from buckling, was so much harder. You struggle to kiss him back, your hand jerks unsteadily, and your legs tremble beneath you, and although you weren’t the one being touched, it was far too much to handle. But even though you were at your wit’s end, you were okay. Your hand around him never brought you to panic, the feeling of his body so close to yours never drew out flashbacks, and the pairing of the two together never led to a need to stop.

Despite your struggling and mediocracy, Eren still whispers, “‘doing so good for me,” in between the taking of your lips in his. Your body shakes in response to his words; only reminding him that your sensitivity doesn’t stop for his voice.

His hand still grips your jaw softly, having complete control over your ability to pull away from his lips, but even if you did have control, you wouldn’t choose to break the kiss for the life of you. But Eren chooses to break it once more, “‘m gonna fuck your hand, okay?”

He releases his hold on your face and moves it down to your wrist, and he wraps his fingers around it just like you had with his cock. He holds you still, halting your pumping with his firm grip, then looks up from between your bodies and to your eyes.

“Please,” You whisper, eyes switching from his hold on you and then back to his eyes.

Slowly, his hips tilt forward into your hand. He holds the wrist still and allows his cock to fuck itself through the hole of your fingers and palm. Immediately, a soft moan escapes your lips at the feeling of him using you. It was overwhelming. The quiet grunts he makes with every stroke, the look on his face as he watches how your hold is forced to expand as he enters your fist, the straining of his forearm as he holds himself back from digging his blunt nails into your wrist; it was insane.

“Eren, I—can’t,” You choke out, far too overwhelmed from both the lack of stimulation as well as the excess.

He was only a few pumps in when he stopped himself, hips stuttering as he held back from another one. Your words cause a wave of concern to flow through his body, and he asks, “Are you okay?”

Your hand loosens around him, wrist falling limp in his grasp. His own hold loosens while you take a moment to regroup, “Yes, yeah. ‘just really… really turned on.”

Although your words comfort his anxiety, they do nothing to calm the stammering of his heart. Your hand has released him, but he still throbs upwards against your knuckles at the revelation that you weren’t protesting due to distress, but you were protesting because you needed more.

His hands move to quickly pull up his sweatpants, and he doesn’t bother to untuck his shirt from where it’s been caught beneath the waistband before he’s gripping your waist, kissing you roughly, and guiding you from the counter and towards his bedroom. Your hands find his tee-shirt and grip the fabric tightly to pull him closer.

It’s confirmation, you need more, you need him, and he’s more than willing to give that to you.

“Can I take care of you?” He asks in between kisses.

You hold on to him tighter as you’re stumbled backward, gripping onto him and his shirt like a support line. You know you won’t trip or fall as he continues to guide you back, his hold on your body is too steady and too firm for that to happen, but you still find security in holding him.

“Yes, and don’t stop.” You answer breathlessly.

So he doesn’t. Eren leads you to his door, pushing it open with a heavy hand, steps you through, and steers you towards his bed. It’s a mess of stumbling feet, discarded shoes, and grabbing hands.

The trip to his mattress was rough, desperate, and frantic, but the journey down to it was careful and tender; like a parent laying a child to bed after they fell asleep on the drive home.

He gives you a soft kiss before cupping the back of your neck and cradling the small of your back. The weight of his body gently forces a bend in your knees that lets him guide you down to the mattress. Once you lay, his hand at your back drives you further up the bed while his other hand plants beside your head.

The moment you’re steady, he hovers over you, bodyweight supported by his knees. Still free from the confines of a tie, his pretty chestnut hair curtains around his face and the ends tickle your cheeks. Your hands reach out for him, feeling over his chest and shoulders until they rest on either side of his neck, and your legs tease at his sides as you search for more.

“How are you?” He asks softly, shifting his weight to one hand to hold your face with the other. His eyes are swimming with desire, but they’re careful as they search your face.

“I’m good, really good,” You answer, cradling his cheek to mirror his touch to yours.

His lips quirk into a gentle smile, his thumb circles the soft skin of your cheek, “Tell me if you’re not, okay?”

You nod, matching his expression, “I promise,” and then your hands slip back to the back of his neck and tug him down to you. Eren falls to his forearms, body brushing against yours, and he kisses you.

It’s gentle, it’s always gentle with him, but this seemed so much more so. Your faces weren’t smushed together, your teeth weren’t clanking and your lips weren’t getting bitten; it was soft, attentive. Lips moved slowly, tongues dipped tenderly, and the only other place where your faces touched was the softest brushes of your noses when he would tilt his head to the other side.

Although his lips were mild and his tongue was pacific, he still hit you like a train. Matching his patient behavior was far from easy; you wanted to kiss him harder, pull him closer, and move a whole lot faster, and he wouldn’t let you. Every time you lift your head to try and draw him deeper, he pulls away in the slightest to keep the distance, and every dig of your nails into his shoulders that tried to encourage his body flush was fought with tensing muscle and resisting arms.

He didn’t want this slow, he wanted you to have it slow. Eren didn’t care how desperate your lips and hands were, he wasn’t going to let you rush yourself. And on top of that, he didn’t want you to rush him. He was going to take his time with you. He was going to turn you to mush, work you open, and have you melt around him all over again, and he wasn’t going to be quick with it. He wanted it to last.

Eren gives you a final kiss to your lips before kissing the corner of your mouth and then making his way farther down. His lips and tongue kiss at either side of your jaw before returning to your lips, then they dip beneath it to tease at the thin skin of your neck. His mouth is hot, wet, perfect as he licks and nips and sucks along your throat and down to your collar. And his hands are so wonderfully big and strong as they run over your sides and tilt your head to give him more space.

You’re falling apart all the while. Every hot lap of his tongue against your skin had your body squirming and your fingers weaving their way into his hair. Your back bowed and stomach pressed against his so hard that you felt the dips of his abdominals against you as you desperately fought for more friction. And when you weren’t arching your back to the wet of his mouth, you were jerking your hips in search of his in response to his teeth pinching at your skin. When you did get that friction against your cunt, that sweet sweet friction that sends sparks through your whole being, you could feel him thick and hard as he’s pressed between your legs, and you could hear him, deep groans and gasps as his mouth drops from your neck.

When his right-hand slips beneath your shirt to tease at the soft skin of your waist, Eren pulls away from you again, “‘this okay?”

“Yeah,” You smile, sitting up and grabbing the hem to aid him in tugging it over your head. It’s tossed to the floor quickly.

Eren before you, sitting upon his knees, too distracted by the discarded shirt to see your hands begin to reach for him. What draws him back is the feeling of your own fingers teasing at the fabric of his own shirt, brushing against his abdomen as you look up to him with your pupils blown wide.

You’re still sitting before him as he kneels on the bed; you’re sitting completely upright but still sitting. You haven’t seemed to notice the potentially troubling positioning, but Eren has, and he’s reaching down to your sides to pull you up to him before you can even get the chance to. Once you’re balanced on your knees and shins, he releases you to pull off his own shirt, mussing up his hair in the process. He barely gets the chance to get it out of his face before you’re doing it for him and kissing him again.

The feeling of skin on skin as your bodies connect draws a pathetic moan from both of your mouths. Your flesh is burning, sticky with sweat, but smooth beneath each other's palms as you feel over the other, trying to take everything in all at once.

Eren’s fingers dig into the softness of your waist, pulling you flush against him until you’re forced to back up your head so your noses don’t knock together, and your hands feel over the lovely muscles of his chest, arms, and shoulders. Your insides were aching, your mind was fuzzy, and you felt like you would die if you didn’t get more from him soon, but everything about being there with him made you want to stay there forever.

In the comfort of his home, in his room, with the blinds closed and the only light coming from a dimmed lamp in the corner, you kneel with him on his mattress. You and him alone, content in each other’s company. ‘Intimate’ is the only word you could come up with that perfectly describes the shared moment. Because with your bare bodies caressing each other as you find solace in each other’s hearts, there was nothing else that made as much sense as the word ‘intimate’.

“Lay down for me,” He says quietly, “‘wanna play with your tits,” his voice breaks into a soft laugh as he aids you in laying back again. You look away from him and try to hide your face as your lips split into a smile at his words.

He remains on his knees as you lift your body slightly to reach and unclasp your bra, and once the straps go limp on your shoulders, he leans over your body and slowly tugs them down. With a hand beside your head, his other hands’ fingers gently brush along your shoulders, tugging the straps with them until they fall to your biceps. He repeats the same on the other side until you sit up and finish the work for him; once you lay back down, he freezes.

Sitting back on his calves, with your thighs resting atop his and your body on display before him, Eren feels a wave of warmth flush over his entire body. He knows his cheeks are turning red, along with his neck and chest, and he hopes you don’t notice his cock growing impossibly harder in his pants. He wants to take a picture; not one for his phone that he keeps tucked away in a private folder, but one that would be taken on a nice camera that would catch every little detail of your body. And then, after that pretty picture would be taken of your pretty body, he would print it out and keep it safe for when he wants to savor your beauty for a time you’re not around.

Eren couldn’t stop his hands from reaching out to touch you; he needed confirmation that this was real, that you were really there in front of him. Starting with your hips, his palms feel over your body. He tucks every little detail, every curve and rise and fall of your body, into the back of his mind for safekeeping. He lets his hands slide up and over where your rib cage must rest beneath the soft of your skin, shivering when your body arches into his touch and the quietest of whines reaches his ears. Your skin breaks out into goosebumps at the sensation of his hands gliding so softly over your skin, and you grab onto his knees for support. He feels over you like a potter does with the soft clay atop their wheel, molding you to his hands, leaving an invisible mark upon your body.

“God, look at you,” He murmurs, eyes flitting over the swell of your breasts and the peaks of your nipples, over your swollen lips and lust-blown eyes. He thinks he’s in heaven. “You’re a dream.”

Heat pools in your face and between your thighs as you grow shy beneath his gaze. “Eren,” You warn, turning away from him.

“What?” He asks, releasing your sides and sliding his arms under yours as he leans over you, “You’re so beautiful.” And then he ducks his head low, settling himself before your chest, and licks softly at your right nipple.

It draws an immediate gasp from your sensitive body, and your hips jerk up into his stomach; he’s much too low on your body for your hips to align with his. Your hands find the sheets and the fabric is fisted into your fingers as he drags his tongue, slow and wet, over your skin.

Still resting on his elbows, he shifts his body further down until he can grab at your upper sides and lift your breasts ever so slightly up to his face. Then, his left arm slides beneath your body, just at your upper back to keep your chest raised for him, while his right hand comes to tease your other breast. His mouth is hot, lips so soft, and tongue dangerous as he tastes the soft skin.

Every little lap and nip at the swell of your chest has more heat flooding to your cunt and grinding of your hips into the muscles of his abdomen. Your hands lace into his hair, pushing it out of his face as you look to where your flesh is sucked into his mouth. Your jaw slacks.

His pretty face is flushed red, and his eyes have fluttered closed as he gets lost in the feeling of your tits in his face and in his hands. His tongue works eagerly, flicking over your nipple while his free hand tweaks at the other. Your skin was slicked and wet with saliva, raised into goosebumps from the cold air he would blow onto it after a hot lick. It was an intoxicating sight, one that you would keep in your conscious forever to use whenever you needed him most.

“Eren, please,” You beg, although unknowing of what you’re asking for.

His mouth releases from your chest as his eyes open, looking up to you with wide pupils, “What do you need?”

You choke on your words, having to swallow your own spit as you try to find what to say, “Just… more,”

His lips tilt into a smile, and he pulls his arm out from under your body so he can loom over you. He knew what he was doing; looking down to you with his eyes full of desire, lips glossed with saliva, hair messed from your hands. It was bound to drag a reaction out of you. And a reaction it did.

Your hips are now in line with his, and you cant upwards subconsciously due to his gaze, and you’re met with the hard of his cock pressing right into where you need it the most. Even through his briefs, his sweats, your sweats, your panties—four layers—you still feel the twitch of him against your cunt as you do so. And you gasp in response.

“Tell me,” He says, looking into your eyes. But he seems to know what you want, for he grinds himself into the soft of your cunt, pressing the length of his cock right against your clit.

“Oh shit, Eren,” Your eyes roll back and you feel yourself melt into the mattress, hips coming back down shakily as the pleasure overwhelms your body and you’re unable to hold yourself against him any longer. He was so hard. He was so fucking hard that you could feel every throb of him against you.

You try to tell him, you try to make yourself clear, but it comes out sounding pathetic; broken apart with gasps and moans, “‘want—oh gosh—I want you… want you inside me.”

Eren brings his head low, leaning down until his lips are teasing yours featherlight, “‘want me to fuck you?”

You whine, twitching beneath his body, “Oh my God, yeah—yes, yes please,” You squirm beneath his body, your hands grasping aimlessly at his back and shoulders, lips searching for him in your little fight for him.

Eren resists his urge to tease you further, resists the overwhelming desire to call you a needy little thing, and decides to kiss you softly to tide you over. You melt immediately, like his lips were an antidote to your poisoned body, and moan softly against his lips. Eren laughs against you before pulling away, “I need to get you ready first, okay?” You nod quickly, and he smiles at your enthusiasm.

He gives you another small peck to the lips before he kisses down your neck, nipping occasionally to feel your body twitch against his, licking through the valley of your breasts, biting at the soft skin of your stomach, teasing the line of your sweatpants with his tongue, and eventually pulling the waistband down to your thighs and sliding them off your legs.

You break into a laugh as you’re pulled to the edge of the bed, his hands wrapping around your ankles and dragging you along the soft sheets until your legs dangle off the side. His nimble fingers slip off your socks and he’s knelt before you, with your left ankle still within his hold. You gasp softly when you feel his breath whisp along the inside of it. You jerk up to rest upon your elbows, watching him carefully as he brings his lips to the flat bone on the interior, kissing the fragile skin softly. It has your stomach turning in on itself and heat spreading over your entire body.

The sensation was almost foreign, similar to when he chose to tease at your calf all those weeks ago, but it was also wonderful. Each press of his lips and bite of his teeth as he makes his way up your legs has your heart stopping again and again. You would dare to consider it too intimate; blurring the line where sex turns into making love. But it still had your heart softening, had your throat closing in as you’re flooded with such a wonderful emotion, and had your body reacting in signs of arousal.

You whine when he grips the backs of your knees and pushes your thighs to your chest. The pressure forces you off your elbows and back to the mattress. and Eren’s now lifted himself back to standing on his knees to bring his face over your still clothed cunt. Although your panties still provide a layer of security between you and his eyes, you still feel yourself shrinking in at the humiliating positioning.

“You’re so pretty like this,” He says quietly, but he doesn’t seem to be talking to you directly; his eyes still locked onto the pretty mound between your legs, the enticing slick that’s begun to leak through, and the way he swears he can see your clit through the thin fabric of your undergarments. “Keep your legs spread for me, okay?”

In spite of your embarrassment, you nod. Your hand replaces his on the back of your knee as he removes his right to bring it down between your thighs, his left still forcing your thigh to your chest. With his hand resting against the back of your thigh, his thumb finds its way to your clit and presses softly. Your body twitches, hips jerking against his hand, legs trembling in the air, and your free hand clasps over your mouth. He teases softly, rubbing gentle circles against you through your panties, watching the way your soft pussy gives under the pressure of his thumb.

“‘you okay?” His question is genuine, and he brings his eyes up to your face.

Your hand is still over your mouth, eyes squeezed shut, but the moment you register his voice you find yourself removing your palm and looking at him. The sight completely wrecks you. So prettily, he kneels before you, with his long hair framing his face, strong arms toying with your body, and his hips grinding against the side of the bed.

“Yeah—shit—yeah,” You breathe, lips cracking into a smile as you let your eyes flutter shut and your head fall back into the mattress.

Eren takes your answer as permission to bring his eyes back to your cunt, his thumb never stopping its sensual circling. His other hand releases your leg to join his thumb, and you obediently keep yourself open for him. He adjusts his right hand, his palm splaying over your navel to give his knuckles room to drag across your clothed slit. You shake at the stimulation, whining out his name as he drags the backs of his fingers along the slick of your panties, still playing with your clit with the other.

It’s almost like he was inspecting you. Despite the fact that he knew your body far better than you did, he was still learning, still trying to see which actions drew what noises from your lips. He was adding to his arsenal, stocking up on ammunition, pitting your pleasure against you for his victory of bringing you to the hardest orgasm he possibly can.

He removes both hands from your pussy, the left going to grip the back of your thigh while the right comes to hook under the hem of your panties and tug them aside. He groans when he’s met with the sight of your pussy all slicked up, glistening with arousal that strings from your skin to the fabric he pulls from it. He only hesitates to take a mental picture, capturing the sight of you on display, and then he brings his face down and drags his tongue through you.

You inhale sharply at the sensation. His tongue that was so hot and so wet as it dragged over your body feels ten times more so as it dips inside you and licks over your cunt. You let out the shakiest and most pathetic moan you believe has ever come out of your mouth as you feel him fuck his tongue inside you, and he groans against your body as he feels your pussy squeeze around his tongue and leak onto his tastebuds. He’ll never get over the taste of you.

His hair tickles at your skin as he drinks you down, and his hand grips your thigh with such frenzy that the fat of it gives under the pressure of his fingers. He’s pulling your panties aside so hard that for a moment he swears he hears the popping sound of stitches being ripped, but that doesn’t matter for long because he’s quickly tugging them down your legs to leave you completely nude.

“You too,” You say softly, eyeing his sweatpants that still hang on his hips, wanting them off.

He looks up to you cautiously. No words were spoken, but you knew exactly what he was saying.

“I’m sure,” You smile softly, nodding alongside your answer for emphasis.

Eren’s stomach drops straight into his cock, and for a second he’s afraid he’s going to cum from the anticipation alone. If this meant what he thinks it meant—of course, this means what you think it does, Eren. What the fuck—he was going to lose his fucking mind. He is losing his fucking mind. And just when he reminds himself to calm down, because you’ll be able to sense his excitement and he doesn’t want to freak you out during your first time, he loses himself once more because holy fuck it’s your first time.

His legs are weak as he stands, and he prays you don’t see the way they shake under his weight. He opts to leave his briefs on out of caution to overwhelming you and only hooks his fingers under the elastic band of his sweatpants. He shoves the fabric down to his knees before stepping out of them, using his heel to slip the remainder off his ankles. You’re blessed with the sight of him almost fully bare and fully vulnerable; strong yet lean legs that are toned from years of sports, beautiful thighs that you find yourself wanting to cover in dark bruises, and such frightening yet enticing muscles of his lower abdomen that shape themselves into a pretty V and point you towards the thick bulge between his legs.

Gosh, it was almost scary. Even though you’ve seen it before, had it in your hands, had it in your mouth, even though it’s hidden behind the dark fabric of his boxer-briefs, it still fucking stares you down and threatens to ruin you; terrorizing you by straining and throbbing against the nylon that covers it. But even as it promises to split you in half, your mouth waters, and you’re forced to swallow down your saliva.

You’re pulled out of your head by his hands gripping the backs of your thighs and shoving them against your chest once more. His mouth closes over you and works to devour you, sucking and licking at the fat of your pussy and the nub of your clit. It’s all tongue and lips, all sloppy and wet as he enthusiastically makes out with the most intimate parts of you.

His tongue will dip inside you and taste at the walls of your cunt before dragging your own slick through you and up to your clit where it’ll then flick over it with intense precision. He has you crying out his name, choking out choppy moans, gripping the sheets, and tugging at his hair until your knuckles ache and your arms tremble. Your hips fuck upwards to try and take his tongue deeper and your thighs push down into the muscle of his shoulders as your legs twitch and jerk with every lick.

“‘so fucking wet,” He murmurs against your wet skin before taking another taste of you. He pushes against the back of your knees, lifting your backside off the mattress and folding you under yourself to give him room to shove his tongue inside you as deep as he can.

“G-God Eren, you’re—fuck—you’re so good,” You whine, shakily petting at the hair atop his head in weak encouragement. You feel him groan rather than hear him; the vibrations humming through you and buzzing at your clit, tugging another moan from your throat.

Eren dies a little inside when your voice is cut off as you feel the sensation of one of his long fingers sliding inside you. Your cries get caught in your throat and you go completely mute as you’re filled in just the slightest.

Eren clenches his jaw to stifle a groan for every time your soft and tight little cunt squeezes around the length of his finger. Every ridge and divot inside you has his head swimming with the fantasy of how they’ll feel around the thick of his cock, and he almost blacks out when he realizes that he’s no longer fingering you solely for your pleasure, but doing so to stretch you out and make room for him as well.

“You have such- such a perfect fucking pussy, fuck,” He says drunkenly, pulling his mouth away to watch his finger slowly slip in and out of you. His palm still faces the floor as he does so, leaving him the opportunity to lick at your clit as he pleases, and he does every so often just to see your pretty face melt like hot wax.

You make the courageous decision to sit back up on your elbows, keeping your knees tucked to you as you do so to give him the room he needs to please you. Another whimper slips out of you when you’re met with the sight of him between your legs; lips and chin glossy, face flushed pink, finger—fingers, oh fuck—now pumping into you lazily as his tongue slides out of his mouth to toy with you. You were hypnotized by the sight of your pussy being stretched open by his digits, his fingers covered in a sheen of arousal every time he pulls them out; then he shoves them back in and licks at your stuffed entrance to make you shake.

You could feel your throat closing in as your entire body is flooded with pleasure; like every fuck of his fingers were shoving your insides up your body until they got pushed to your throat. The desperate whines and whimpers that were leaving your lips slowly turn into wracked sobs and cries that get broken off with gasps that send blood pounding in Eren’s cock.

“Eren, Eren I-I’m gonna—fuck!” Your eyes squeeze shut, nails dig into his scalp, and your body begins to tense. The coil in your stomach grows tighter, winding and winding itself around Eren’s fingers, begging to be released.

It felt so good. It was so good—not only the stimulation to your body but the satisfaction that was flooding your brain. Pure contentment and security were all you felt as you lay bare and vulnerable at Eren’s disposal; because even though you presented him the opportunity to overpower you, to overwhelm you, to force himself onto you, you were safe with the knowledge that he would be disgusted even with the thought of such.

“Oh, baby—fuck. Come on, cum for me, let me feel it,” Eren begs, lifting his head from your cunt to lay it against your thigh, watching your face twist as you fall apart from the inside out.

In a last moment effort to push yourself over the edge, your fingers release the sheets and snake themselves down between your thighs. Still tangled in his hair, you push your other hand to the back of his head, shoving his mouth down to where your other fingers tease at your clit. Eren lets out a deep groan when he feels your fingers beneath his tongue, realizing that you’re aiding him in the search for your release.

“I—oh, God, don’t-don’t stop.” You plead, “Fuck, Eren, please.”

“‘wasn’t- I wasn’t planning on it,” He chokes, feeling your cunt beginning to flutter around his fingers and your legs strain in his grip, “Are you cummi—shit, you’re cumming, fuck,” and then he brings his mouth back down to drink down what you give him.

Your arms concurrently fall weak and grow tense, twitching in the air as you’ve pulled them away from between your thighs and from his hair. Wracked sobs are forced out of your throat as his fingers curl impossibly deeper, sending powerful waves of pleasure up through your veins until it explodes in your head and fireworks burst behind your squeezed eyes.

Eren watches you carefully, tongue still tasting you, but his eyes are flit upwards to admire your face as you break for him. Your beautiful face, contorted with the pleasure that he gave you, and your beautiful body, visible proof of just how ruined you are.

Poor, poor you; wrecked from his fingers and tongue, painfully naive to just how much worse his cock will tear you apart. You beg for it. Coming down from your orgasm, you sit up weakly, reaching for the waistband of his briefs—the final layer.

“Is this okay?” You ask him.

Eren’s heart thumps violently in his chest, swelling until he’s struggling to swallow. He watches as your hands pause on his hips. He looks over your heaving chest, covered in his own spit, and then to your face, your eyes wide and filled with need as you look up at him.

He gives himself a moment, breathes in deeply through his nose, lets the tension in his muscles dissipate, then brings a gentle hand to your face and holds you gently in his palm.

He smiles, then nods, “Yeah… yeah, it is.”

The final layer is shed, slid down by two pairs of hands. You’re pushed up the bed, head resting back on one of the soft pillows. The dark oak nightstand beside his bed is left with an open drawer as Eren returns to the bed with both his hands full. The puffy sheets give under the weight of a small bottle of lubricant that’s placed beside the two of you, and the mattress gives under the pressure of Eren settling himself before you, with a small, square-shaped, foil package between his fingers.

Kneeling between your legs, with your thighs open spread for him, Eren locks eyes with you as he begins to tear open that pretty little package. Your body burns beneath his gaze, chest and face flushing hot, but between your thighs slickens as your eyes land on the sight of his abdominals twitching to try and keep up his heavy cock. You shiver, skin scattering with goosebumps because he’s beautiful.

Once he’s rolled the condom over his length, Eren reaches beside you to grab a spare pillow. It’s taken in his right hand as he sits back up, and he takes your hip in his other hand, “Can you lift your hips for me?”

You dig your heels into the mattress and lift your body, and Eren takes the space beneath you and fills it with the pillow in his hand. When you lower yourself back down, you’re met with the plush of the pillow, and your hips are tilted just ever so slightly higher up to give him a better angle.

He picks up the lubricant, hands shaking as he drips it into his palm, and then he slowly slathers it over his cock. He hisses quietly under his touch, dick throbbing and lashes fluttering from the sensation of his slippery hand pumping over him. It’s not the lubricant that has his veins sparking, but the knowledge that you’re laying before him stretched out and spread open, ready to be filled with everything he can give you.

“It won’t hurt as much like this, ‘promise,” He says softly, removing his hand from himself and sliding the remaining slick on his hands with the arousal between your legs.

You’re wound up with anticipation, and you gasp at the slide of his fingers over you once more. Your heart beats erratically, both with anxiety and excitement, but the border between the two begins to blur as Eren slides just a little closer; the hard of him pressing against the inside of your thigh and his hands cupping over your knees.

“Talk to me.” He smooths over your knees, the pressure spreads them just a bit more, and the residue of lubricant shines in their wake. He sees himself so close to being inside you, and it makes him shiver.

“I’m okay,” You swallow hard and give him a reassuring nod. You reach out to where his knees are bent beneath your thighs and touch him similarly as he does to you, soothingly.

As Eren shifts a bit closer, you tighten up as you anticipate the blunt head of him pressing against you. But that’s not what you get. With your thighs on either side of his body, resting over his own, Eren gets close enough to you to place his hard cock on your stomach; with his balls pressed against your folds, the base resting on your clit, and the shaft straining up your abdomen.

You furrow your brows in the slightest, confused with his motives. He kneels there unmoving between your legs, only watching the length of him stretch up your stomach as his hands grip your thighs. So, you look with him. Coated with glossy lubricant, he drips onto your stomach, your skin sheening from where it smears across your skin. The pressure on your clit is only noticed when your eyes reach the base of him, and you hope he doesn’t feel the way your insides throb at the sensation.

And then, as you scan your eyes up the length of him, recognizing just how truly big he is, you realize what he’s doing.

He’s sizing you up.

He was sizing you up, seeing how deep he’ll go, seeing how wide he’ll stretch you out before he puts it in, seeing if he’ll fit.

The anticipated tension catches up with you and hits you like a train. Your body tightens up and stiffens because you’re all of a sudden worried that the space between your legs isn’t anatomically wide enough for the girth of him, worried that your cunt isn’t deep enough for his length.

But Eren’s quick to calm you down. With a gentle voice and slow rocking of his hips, sliding his shaft through the split of your folds, he says, “Hey, look at me,” while giving your tense thigh a gentle tap.

With wide eyes, you bring your gaze up from where he rests against your navel and up to him.

“Just look at me. I’ll go real slow, okay? I’ll fuck you so slow, baby.”

His words do more than just ease the tension in your body, at the mention of him fucking you, your hips jerk and join in the sensual sliding of him through you. A tiny moan slips through your lips as he lets out a tight exhale, his jaw clenching and abdomen flexing, hair falling into his eyes as his head grows heavy.

“‘ren?” Your voice is meek, “I wanna see you—wanna see your face.”

It’s a quick flick of his eyes to yours, and then to the hair tie on his wrist before he’s slipping it off and running his fingers through his hair to fix it to the back of his head. Out of haste, it was a little messier than he usually preferred to have; missing the entire base of his neck and leaving a few strands in his face. You both knew it would be a burden to brush out the knot of hair and elastic he had made when you finish, but neither of you seemed to care.

Pulling his hips back, he takes his base in his hand and aligns himself with your center; tip finding where your body splits. He feels you tighten against his sensitive head, and he swallows down a heavy groan.

He’ll fit, he knows he will, but it’ll hurt as always. You seemed to be made for him. No matter the thick of your thighs nor the width of your hips—it was an odd thought that he had—he believed that the build of your pelvis was just wide enough but just tight enough, that he would be the only one who would fill you perfectly.

“This okay?” He asks again, and you almost groan out of pure impatience.

After your quick nod and affirming words, he leans over your body with his left hand planted beside your head. The shift in position has the pressure of his cock pushing against your entrance by accident, and you gasp. Your hand finds his forearm, blunt nails digging into the muscle while your eyes shoot to where you feel him pressing against you.

“Look me in the eyes when I put it in.” He says, but it’s a command rather than a plea. You can hear it in the tone of his voice; that this wasn’t something he was asking of you, but something that he needs from you. So, you bring your eyes up from where they seemed to be stuck where you’re connected and catch them on his.

“There you go,” He whispers, and then the pressure at your cunt increases.

They were right when they spoke about the pain of losing your virginity; a deep ache, a burning stretch. No matter how prepared you were, no matter how thoroughly you were stretched and slicked, the body wasn’t used to being filled like that, so of course, it would hurt. It had you gasping and straining, thighs clamping around his waist, and hand fisting the bedsheets, but despite the ache and the pinch, it was nowhere near as bad as you expected.

The pain was there, but the intensity of it wasn’t. Perhaps it was because you were high off endorphins, your body flooded with hormones that blocked out discomfort, so filled with indescribably positive emotions that you can’t even care to think about how bad the pain could be, but you couldn’t care either way.

Only the head of his cock has begun to slip inside the tightness of your body, but it feels like you’re being split in half. It was so much; so much pressure in your pelvis, so much trying to bully its way in. You could feel your body squeezing up and trying to push him back out, not used to the size of the intrusion, and wanting to act against you.

“Let me in, baby,” Eren murmurs softly, his words easing up your body and turning your insides soft, “That’s it… that’s my girl.”

And his praise only continues to help. Every word that leaves his lips has another ounce of pain decreasing, which allows your body to loosen up just a bit more, which lets Eren slip himself inside you just a little farther. But every slip deeper shoots another dull ache into your veins, and the process has to repeat itself. It’s slow and strenuous as you both try to ease him in, and even after a good few minutes of work, only the head of him has pushed its way inside. The ridge where his shaft turns into his head is where the entrance of your cunt is grasped around tightly.

He stills there, unmoving, abdomen straining to keep his body from falling into yours. It’s a hard task for more reasons than one. The muscles in his body are burning hot and trembling from both the strain he’s using to hold himself up and the effect you have on his body, and then the sweet little whimpers and mewls that slip out of you make it so difficult for him to hold back the urge to bottom out and hear you cry his name.

“Eren,” You say breathlessly, the lines of pain and pleasure in your voice beginning to blur, “I—oh shit—please.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s—yes.”

“Is—” Eren cuts himself off, pulling out slightly, just the head, then pushes it back into where it was, “Is this okay?”

This. This, this, this; the gentle fucking of the tip of his cock into you, slowly, shallowly, just letting you stretch around the curves of his head until your gasps and chokes of pain slowly fade into soft moans and needy whines.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s- It’s good,” You nod your head drunkenly, mind going fuzzy from the growing pleasure in your stomach.

Eren’s jaw slacks and his cock throbs, and the sudden gasp it pulls from you tells him that you had felt him shift inside you. You’re too pretty, too warm, too tight, too wet; even as the condom dulls the full effect of your insides, Eren’s still at his wit’s end. He’s the first to fill you up, he’s the first dick inside you, he’s in the process of taking your fucking virginity, and it’s driving him insane.

“‘gonna give you some more, okay? ‘gonna fill you up real nice,” His voice is weak and strained, but he still exudes the comfort that you need when you feel him push deeper and deeper.

There are a few moments where tears prick your vision as the stretch of your body grows too painful to continue. Eren stops diligently, cooing at you softly, petting your face after his forearms brace to the bed, and slipping a hand between your sweat-slicked bodies to circle your clit to counteract the pain. He asks over and over again if you wished for him to stop, so much so that you would have found it annoying if it wasn’t so endearing, but you decline every time.

You only come to realize that his hips are flush with yours when you’re pulled out of your haze by a deep groan that reaches your ears. Eren’s buried his face into the crook of your neck, his body completely flush with yours to the point where you can feel him shake, and he has to take a moment to breathe because Jesus-fucking-Christ he almost just came.

The tight and wet warmth of you squeezing and holding every inch of him has him fighting off an orgasm. It was beyond pathetic. He could feel his cheeks turning red just thinking about how humiliating it would have been if he would’ve tapped out his first stroke like a damn virgin. You have completely and utterly wrecked him with your only weapon being your existence.

It takes a minute for him to come down, but thankfully that minute wasn’t full of awkwardness. You yourself were trying to wrap your mind around the feeling of having your belly filled until no space was left. When you thought about it before, fantasized about him late at night with your fingers shoved knuckle deep inside you, you had expected the feeling to be similar to that you would experience after eating too much. But it wasn’t that. Even feeling him deep inside you and pushing against spots that you never knew existed, it wasn’t what you could necessarily describe as ‘full’. Sure, you were full, yes, but only because you were vacant before. And now that you are overflowing with purely him, you never want to be empty again.

“You’re… you’re inside me…” You breathe, voice saturated with awe.

Eren lifts off of you quickly yet cautiously at your words, “I’m… yeah, I am. Oh God, fuck, I’m inside you.” He sits back on his calves again, just enough so he can bring his eyes to where he sees himself sitting inside you.

He acts involuntarily, slowly tilting his hips back and forth, watching his cock slip in and out of you. It’s careful and cautious, a gentle easing you open; not moving enough to bring you discomfort, but moving just enough to see the slick of your insides coat a sheen over his length. He was gauging your reactions again, learning when to stop, when to keep going, what feels good, and what bothers you.

“Eren…” You whine out of embarrassment, face burning at the thought of him staring down the most intimate parts of you. But you don’t want him to stop; the gentle pumping inside you was growing more pleasurable with every pass of him through your walls, and it was quickly becoming something you needed more of.

“Talk to me… please.” He’s in a daze, too flooded with differing emotions to try and pick out which one he thought he was supposed to feel. He hopes that your next words will help him sort it all out; he doesn’t want to be ecstatic if you’re in pain, doesn’t want to be aroused if you’re uncomfortable.

You choke on a whine, taking a few gasping breaths before speaking, “‘feels… feel so full. I—oh God,” You cry, squeezing your eyes shut and reaching a shaky hand down to your cunt to feel where his cock splits you open. You feel around the intrusion, mapping out the spread of your folds, the stretch of your entrance, the girth of his body impaling you, realizing just how much you were having to take. “It’s so much.”

“I know, I know, I can see how fucking- fucking stuffed you are.” Eren stammers weakly, his head buzzing and his hands smoothing over the fat of your thighs to try and ground himself. “‘feels good?”

“Mhm,” You whimper, nodding alongside the sweet noise leaving your lips.

You grind your hips against his, both for emphasis and for stimulation, and let yourself get used to having something inside you. Eren gently plays with your clit as you shift him around in your depths, savoring every squeeze of your cunt, every gush of your walls as the pain slowly and gradually subsides itself into nothingness.

Just as he reaches deeper inside you, the pleasure you feel hits deeper as well. It’s something that bursts in your chest and swells up into your throat until every slow stroke of his hips into you has you choking up and crying. It turns your limbs weak and fuzzy, burns you up and boils you from the inside out. It was profound, intoxicating, addicting, and you want him to give you more.

“Kiss me, please. I wanna kiss you,” You beg, reaching up with needy hands to take a hold of his face and coax him down to you.

Eren’s chest swells, and he gives in easily, leaning over your body and dropping to his forearms to softly take your lips in his. It’s a precious kiss, one where all his love pours off his tongue and pools into your mouth for you to swallow down. His love is traded for your whines, ones that are pulled from you as the shift of his body sends him just that much deeper inside you. Your legs tighten around his hips, wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the dimples at the base of his spine, shaking, trembling, and your hand flies between you to press against his stomach to push him out just a little.

Eren pulls from your lips, nose brushing against yours as he asks, “You okay?”

Your fingers twitch against the muscles of his stomach as you try and piece together your words, only eventually spitting out a tiny, “‘s so deep.”

So, Eren pulls out just a bit, holding down a groan that threatens to spill over with every inch of drag of him through the silky walls of your cunt. But that’s when it hits you, the first true and painless stroke. That’s when you realize why the fuck Eren Jaeger has so much sex… because it’s so good. The first moan that he’s pulled from you with his dick alone is absolute music to his ears; it was the first true sign of pleasure that you have ever experienced from having someone else inside you… and it was all caused by him.

“Oh God, baby,” He breathes, “‘so sensitive.”

He’s tainted your sweet and virginal body with every ounce of his being. He’s ruined your tight little cunt and stretched it out for his liking, carved out your insides for a perfect fit of him, made it completely impossible for anyone else to fill you the way he does. He’s wrecked you and fucked you up, rendered you sweaty and shaking and cock-drunk with only a few pumps to your insides. He’s single-handedly obliterated every last individual on Earth that ever had a chance with you.

Eren’s hands are clammy as they grip onto your hips, “Can I—shit, I don’t know how to say this—can I—please.” His voice strains as he loses his words, “I want to- wanna fuck you so bad.”

You tighten around him, insides squeezing down on the hard of his cock until he groans shakily and his eyes flutter shut. Deep in the pit of his stomach, a ball of fire rolls around and swelters, it burns hotter with every passing second, expands with every minute, shifts his organs aside as it grows and burns. It was a fire that you lit the flame to; a fire that together, you pour gasoline on until the flames at its surface flicker blue. It licks at his insides, bites at his groin, blazes so hot that he sweats and pants like a dog. But he doesn’t want the fire to go out, he wants it to burn him alive.

“Yeah, just… gosh, yes, please.” You exhale, all tension leaving your body to be replaced with relief.

And at that, Eren does. Pulling himself out of you slowly, savoring the tight heat of your body, and listening to your soft whines in response to his movements, he brings everything out until only the head of his dick remains engulfed by the warmth of your cunt, and then, he pushes back in.

Your body gives easily, still a bit tight, but so much easier than it had when he was working himself in for the first time. It doesn’t resist his intrusion, doesn’t tighten up at the foreign sensation, it sucks him in and pulls him deeper until his balls are smushed up against the curve of your ass and both of you shudder from the pleasure that wracks your bodies.

And then he does it again, and again, and again; watching your pretty face melt and your body go weak as you’re filled over and over with the fat of his cock. The beautiful moans that follow his every thrust scratch a certain itch in his brain, and every whimper of his name as he wrecks your being fulfills his every need in his life.

There was nothing that either of you needed more than this; not just the sex, not just the pleasure, but the pure and unadulterated vulnerable intimacy that tugs at your heartstrings and pricks tears to your vision. You both could cry; not because it hurt, and not because it was sad, but because you were so filled with happiness that your body couldn’t hold anymore of it inside you so it chose to leak from your being in the form of tears. The sensation, the stimulation, the emotion, and the passion, and the devotion—they all pile on top of each other until they tip themselves over and crash to the ground in an explosion of white light. It’s beautiful.

Your hands dig their fingers into the muscles of his back, blunt nails etching into his skin, piercing his flesh at a microscopic level like you were trying to bury yourself inside him like he is with you. Your thighs squeeze around his waist so hard, tug him so close to your body, that not one inch of skin on your body isn’t covered with the warmth of him. And even then, you grind your hips up against his, wanting closer, wanting his everything.

He alternates between burying his face in the crook of your neck, biting at the thin skin, nipping at your ears, licking at the line of your jaw, and choosing to lift himself up until your foreheads, noses, and lips are brushing against each other; breathing in each other’s air, swallowing down each other’s moans with your lips, looking into each other’s eyes. But he chooses, on a particular switch to where his lips are pressed against your ear, he murmurs:

“You like it?”

And you can hear the way his smirk leaks into his voice; that cocky timbre, so smooth and so composed that for a minute you’re convinced he’s practiced it. But before you could even think about it for even a moment, the tones of his voice slam their effect into your cunt like a train, and you're tightening around him and choking out an answer in between wrecked sobs.

“Yes, it’s—oh fuck—it’s so fucking- so good,” It’s your turn to nuzzle your nose into his neck, breathing in the intoxicatingly deep and musky scent that’s pure Eren and pure sex, “I can’t, I- I need you.”

“I’m right here, I’m… I’m literally as close to you as I can possibly be,” He laughs breathily, lifting his head to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“No, no, no,” Your head shakes with every word, “‘closer. ‘need you closer.”

Eren can’t say no when your hands are grabbing at his shoulders, when your body is bowing off the bed and into his, when your hips are lifting off the pillow beneath them to try and meet his thrusts and force him a bit deeper.

He can’t stop himself from shifting his weight to one forearm and sliding his other arm beneath your back to lift up your body just a bit to pull you closer to him when you’re pleading for him in such a sweet and needy voice.

And he can’t tell if it’s the slightest change in the position or the gratitude that fills your veins that forces the most beautiful noises from you; perhaps it’s a bit of both. With an arm beneath your body to hug your stomach against his, and a pillow beneath your hips to angle you right, Eren’s given the freedom to pound into that perfect little spot inside you that has your vision going spotty and your head feeling full.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, right there. Eren, please, please don’t stop,” You beg, lashes fluttering shut and eyes rolling back as the tip of his cock ruts into the deepest parts of you over and over and over.

“Right there?” He asks, punctuating his question with a particularly harsh snap of his hips.

“Mhm!”

He wishes he could let out a teasing laugh at your desperation, but every pulse of your walls around the length of him takes another breath out of his lungs, takes the strength out of his arms, and has him releasing you to the mattress as he’s forced to drop down to his elbows again. He curses himself for being unable to continue with the assault on your sweet spot, but you don’t seem to mind, for neither the volume nor frequency of your moans seem to decrease at the shift.

He takes your face in his hands, palms smushing your cheeks and thumbs resting on your chin, “You’re taking me so well,” He praises, running his thumb up to your bottom lip, “It’s like you were made for me—made for my cock.”

You’re convinced that there and then is when you lost your ability to think. You’re absolutely certain that at that moment, Eren had positively fucked you dumb. Even though you tried, tried so hard to let out a little mewl of appreciation, tried so hard to come up with a way to respond, tried so hard to even fucking think, you just couldn’t do it. Your mouth falls open, your eyes squeeze shut so tight that you see colors behind your lids, and your body tightens down on him so hard that for a second he thinks you’re cumming.

But he knows you better than that.

“You like me talking to you, don’t you, baby,” He hums. No questioning lies behind his words, but rather stating the obvious.

You give him a stupid little nod, shutting your mouth and taking your bottom lip between your teeth. He sounds muffled, like someone was holding your head underwater, but he also is the only thing you can hear, like the water clogging your ears was made up of him.

“You like hearing me tell you how good you’re taking me?” He continues, pulling your lip out from your bite, “‘how you’re such a good girl for doing so well for her first time, hm?”

“Yes—I love it, I love it so much,” Tears slip from the corners of your eyes, dripping down your face and leaving glistening streams of nothingness along your skin.

“You’re fucking perfect.”

The winding coil in your stomach has begun to strain, the copper wiring being pulled taught around its wheel. Eren can sense it too, deep in his gut he knows how close you are, and not only that, but he can read it on your body, all the way down to sensing the hairs on your arm stand on end. His ego fucking soars knowing that he is the one you’re going to cum around for the first time, that he brought you there by himself, and tipped you over the edge with only his voice.

“Eren,” You force out, “Eren, I’m—I… I’m gonna cum.” You warn him, voice tight.

“Jesus fuck. C’mon, cum all over me, cum all over my fucking cock,” He thrusts harder, speaking through his teeth.

Your lower stomach flexes, legs lock around his waist, and your nails dig into his shoulders as you feel yourself reaching the top of the rollercoaster, waiting for the moment that the cart flies down the rails.

“‘Ren—”

“Open your eyes, come on. Look at me when you cum,” He pleads, voice shaky, his own orgasm taunting him, but he refuses to let himself release before you do, “Please, baby—fuck.”

So with heavy eyelids and a blurry vision, you crack your eyes open so that as your orgasm hits you like a freight train, the only thing you can see is him. His cheeks are a pretty pink along with the bridge of his nose, and his face is glossed over with perspiration that’s lit aglow by the dim lamp still illuminating the room with a warm ambiance; the baby hairs on his forehead stick to his skin until they’re tinted dark by the dampness of his skin, and pretty violet bruises splotch over his neck and the divots of his collarbones; in his eyes, no more of that deep jade remains wrapped around his pupils, they’ve darkened to black, so deep and dark that you swear you could see yourself in them if you looked close enough.

And that’s all you think about. Him. Even as you release and leak down the base of him, even as your body is ablaze, the only thing that registers in your cock-drunk brain is Eren. His hands holding your face, his body moving in yours, your souls intertwining.

He feels everything as the walls of your cunt throb around the girth of him, the second heartbeat of your body, sucking him in and forcing him out in waves, squeezing from base to tip like you were trying to empty him. He looks into your eyes as you fall apart, at the way they glisten with tears; he looks at your face and the way your brows scrunch up and your lips part as you sing him such a beautiful siren song. And then, as you tug him into your depths, pressing your mouth to his, you swallow him whole, and he can no longer hold back the weight of his release.

You feel it when it happens. Despite being distracted by your own throbbing, you so strongly feel the way the underside of his cock pulses inside you as he cums. You feel his balls draw in tight to his body, and you feel them empty pulse by pulse into the condom, and you could be dreaming, but you swear you feel the warmth of his release even through the thin rubber.

“I feel you—I feel it, Eren, fuck.” You whimper into his mouth.

And even as he’s emptying himself of everything he has into the tiny little tip of the condom, he still asks in a strained voice, “Yeah? ‘feel me cumming?”

His words only draw out your orgasm for longer, sending another wave of euphoria through you, stringing it along until he’s empty, and only then does it settle.

The room is silent, save for the heavy panting of both of you trying to catch your breaths. Your heart thumps heavily in your ears to the point where you can feel every beat behind your eyes. Your bodies still stick together from the mess of sweat and release, skin tacky from the exertion.

Although his arms tremble and weaken, Eren uses the last bit of strength in his body to take your face in his hands and kiss you deeply. It’s a mess of spit and hot breath and his clammy hands sticking to your face, but you couldn’t have asked for anything else.

Eren hisses a small, “Fuck,” as he slips himself out of you, and he clenches his jaw from the overstimulation of taking the soiled condom off.

And then it’s done.

He lays back down beside you, snakes his arms around your waist and tugs your back to his chest, and buries his face into the crook of your neck. You relax in his hold, savoring the warmth of his body and smiling at the soft kiss he presses to your neck.

The rest comes later; for now, you idle.