Sage🪽

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𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 🤍

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. 19 • they/them • certified yearner ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ aot • evangelion • death note • chainsaw man • devilman • demon slayer ˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

Eren Jaeger x Reader

Summary: You’ve always known Eren’s heart belongs to Mikasa, but in the shadows of Marley, you let yourself believe it could be different. One last night together, and then… goodbye.

CW: NSFW, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Unrequited Love (Sort Of), Friends With Benefits, Marley Arc, Smut, Emotional Hurt, Right Person Wrong Time, The Rumbling (Implied), One-Sided Attraction, Bittersweet Ending

WC: ~ 1.5k

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The humid air of the Marleyan inn clung to your skin like a bad decision you couldn’t shake, thick with the tang of ocean salt and the faint, acrid whisper of distant factory smoke.

It was a far cry from the crisp, walled-in familiarity of Paradis, but then again, so were you these days—embedded deep in enemy territory, playing refugee for the Scouts, your nerves frayed like the hem of your threadbare shirt. Weeks of this charade had worn you down, but nothing compared to the way Eren Jaeger could unravel you with just a look.

You’d heard his footsteps in the hallway before the knock—hesitant, almost reluctant, like he was debating turning back. When you swung the door open, there he was…hair tousled longer than you remembered, jaw set in that stubborn line, green eyes shadowed by burdens heavier than any Titan could carry.

God, he looked exhausted, beautiful in that tragic way that made your chest ache.

“Eren?” Your voice came out softer than intended, laced with the concern you always tried to hide. “It’s late. What are you—?”

“I couldn’t stay away,” he cut in, stepping inside without invitation, the door clicking shut behind him like a finality. The room felt smaller instantly, his presence sucking up all the oxygen. He paced a few steps, hands shoved into his pockets, before turning to face you. “Everything’s spinning out of control. Zeke, the plan, Mikasa… it’s all closing in.”

There it was—Mikasa.

Always her, the ghost in every conversation, the unbreakable thread tying him down.

You’d loved him from the sidelines since the Cadet Corps, drawn to that fierce spark in him, the boy who dreamed of freedom but carried chains you couldn’t see.

But you?

You were the rebound, the fleeting distraction when the weight got too much. It stung, but you’d take the scraps if it meant having him at all.

You swallowed the bitterness, stepping closer. “Mikasa again? Eren, if you’re here just to vent—”

“No.” His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist gently but firmly, pulling you nearer. His touch sent sparks skittering across your skin.

“I’m here because with you… I can breathe. Even if it’s selfish.”

Selfish. The word hung between you, heavy and honest. Your heart hammered, traitorous hope blooming despite everything. “Then breathe with me,” you whispered, your free hand coming up to trace the sharp angle of his jaw. “Just for tonight.”

His eyes searched yours, a storm of conflict raging in those emerald depths. “You deserve someone who can give you everything. Not this half-assed bullshit. I’m just… using you to forget.”

The truth sliced deep, but you shoved it down. “I know. But I’d rather have pieces of you than nothing.” You rose on your toes, brushing your lips against his in a tentative plea.

That was all it took. Eren’s restraint snapped like a taut wire. He crushed his mouth to yours, the kiss hungry and desperate, hands roaming your back as if mapping every curve for memory. You melted into him, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. He tasted like regret and rebellion, a heady mix that made your head spin.

“God, why do you let me do this?” he murmured against your lips, backing you toward the bed. His hands slipped under your shirt, palms hot against your bare waist.

“Because I want you,” you gasped, tugging at his collar. “All of you, even the broken parts.”

He groaned, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through you. In one fluid motion, he lifted your shirt over your head, exposing you to the dim lamplight. His gaze raked over you, dark and appreciative.

“You’re too good for this world. Too good for me.”

Before you could protest, his mouth was on your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, sucking marks that bloomed like bruises. You arched into him, a whimper escaping as his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they pebbled under his touch. “Eren—fuck—”

“Shh, let me make you feel good.” He pushed you onto the bed, the springs protesting under your weight. He stripped off his own shirt, revealing the sculpted lines of his chest, scarred from battles that had hardened him inside and out. Crawling over you, he captured your lips again while his hand trailed lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants.

His fingers found you already wet, stroking with deliberate slowness that had you bucking against him. “So ready for me,” he breathed, voice rough with desire. He circled your clit, pressure building in delicious waves, before sliding two fingers inside, curling them just right.

You moaned his name like a prayer, hips grinding against his hand. “Please, more—”

He obliged, his pace quickening, thumb pressing against your bundle of nerves while his mouth latched onto your breast, tongue flicking mercilessly. Pleasure coiled tight in your core, and when he added a third finger, stretching you, it snapped—you came with a cry, clenching around him, vision blurring.

Eren didn’t give you time to recover. He shed the rest of his clothes, his arousal springing free, hard and weeping. You reached for him, stroking firmly, earning a hiss of pleasure. “Your turn,” you teased, but he shook his head, positioning himself between your thighs.

“No. I need to be inside you.” His tip nudged your entrance, and with your nod, he thrust in—deep, filling you completely. You both gasped, the connection electric.

He started slow, savoring each slide, but soon the rhythm turned frantic, hips snapping with raw need. “You feel incredible,” he growled, one hand pinning your wrist above your head, the other gripping your thigh, spreading you wider. Sweat beaded on his brow, muscles flexing with every powerful drive. “Like you were made for me.”

“Eren—yes—harder,” you begged, nails digging into his back, leaving red trails. The room echoed with your shared moans, the slap of skin, the creak of the bed—a symphony of fleeting ecstasy.

He buried his face in your neck, pace faltering as release neared. “Come with me,” he urged, and you did—shattering around him, pulling him over the edge. He spilled inside you with a broken cry, collapsing atop you, breaths ragged.

For a precious moment, you held him, tracing patterns on his back, pretending this could last. But dawn crept in, cold and inevitable.

Eren stirred first, extricating himself gently. You watched in silence as he dressed, the intimacy evaporating like mist.

“You’re leaving,” you stated, voice hollow. It wasn’t a question.

He paused, back to you. “I have to. The plan… it’s set.”

Tears welled, hot and unbidden. “And us? Was I just a way to kill time before you destroy the world?”

He turned, eyes glistening—regret etched deep. “No. You were the only thing that felt real.” He knelt by the bed, cupping your face. “In another timeline, we’d have forever. But here… I can’t drag you into this hell.”

“Eren, don’t—” A sob choked you. “I love you. Please, come back.”

His thumb wiped a tear, but his expression was resolute. “I love you too. That’s why I have to go.”

One last kiss—soft, lingering, tasting of salt and goodbye. Then he was at the door.

“Survive. For both of us.”

The door shut, and the silence crushed you. You curled into the sheets, wracked with sobs, unaware that this was the end—the Rumbling would erupt, and Eren would vanish into the monster he’d become, leaving you haunted by what-ifs in a shattered world.

…Right person, wrong damn time.

im currently deep into writing chapter 5 of my Bertholdt x Reader book, Before We Were Names, over on Wattpad!

this project’s been living rent free in my head for a while now and i’ve been trying to update it faster but my schedule is fucked.

gonna start posting more bertholdt and aot stuff here too, but if you want something new to read in the meantime…

bertholdt hoover x reader (smut)

warnings: public-ish sex, backseat sex(reiner’s truck…oops), size kink, teasing, creampie, semi-risky behavior, party setting, alcohol mention (not drunk), light begging, oral(reader receiving)

an: first post, been FERAL for Bertholdt soo..i decided why not write something myself?

꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱

The bass rattled through the walls of Reiner’s house, shaking loose laughter and chaos in every room. Someone had already spilled beer on the carpet, Connie was half-shouting at Jean over aux rights, and Sasha was threatening to eat whatever was left in the fridge if someone didn’t order food soon.

In the middle of it all, Reiner jangled his truck keys against the counter, half-forgetting them as he poured shots. That metallic clink was all it took to spark the idea in your head.

You sidled up to him, voice sugar-sweet. “Reiner, can I borrow your truck for a bit?”

His brow creased. “Why? You tryna do a beer run? Because if you’re leaving me with Connie—”

“Relax,” you cut in, grinning. “I won’t crash it. Just need a breather.”

“You’ve got two legs for that,” he muttered.

You leaned closer, just enough that his suspicion softened. “Come on, Reiner. I’ll owe you...”

He gave you a long look, sighing as if he already regretted it. “Fine. But if I come out there and my truck’s wrapped around a streetlight—”

The keys hit your palm before he could finish. “Promise,” you chirped, but your eyes were already darting across the room. To the boy folded into himself on the couch.

Bertholdt.

Bertholdt sat slouched on the couch, knees drawn up, arms hugging them tight like a shield. Music thumped around him, lights flashing over the crowd, and he looked like he wanted to disappear entirely. His hands fidgeted with the edge of his cup, and he kept glancing at the room as if it might swallow him whole.

You crouched slightly in front of him, tilting your head with a playful grin. “Hey,” you said softly, brushing your fingers along the back of his hand. He flinched. “I need you to come outside with me for a second. Just for a little walk.”

He froze, eyes widening. “O-outside? W-why? I… I don’t know if I should…”

You leaned a little closer, voice low and teasing. “You don’t have to know yet. Just trust me. Please?”

“I—I can’t just—people are… they’ll see—” His words stumbled over each other. He looked panicked, like standing up was the hardest thing in the world.

“You’ll be fine,” you said, letting your hand rest lightly on his knee. “No one’s going to notice. Just a quick step outside, and then we can come right back. I promise, it’s nothing dangerous.”

He swallowed hard, jaw tight. “I… I don’t know… it feels… strange.”

“That’s the point,” you whispered with a grin. “You’re uncomfortable in here anyway, aren’t you? Look at you. You don’t want to be stuck in the middle of all this chaos. Come on, let me help you.”

You inched closer, brushing your fingers against his arm, letting him feel the warmth. His body tensed, legs stiff, but you could see the hesitation waver as you spoke softly, coaxing, playful but insistent.

“Y/N, I…” His voice faltered, and he looked like he might run back to the couch.

You tilted your chin up at him, smiling. “You trust me, right?”

His eyes flicked to yours, caught in that look you loved — unsure, nervous, and completely captivated. “Y-yeah…”

“Good.” You slid your hand into his, gently squeezing. “Then come on. Just follow me outside. I promise its nothing weird.”

He exhaled, a long, shaky breath, then slowly let you pull him to his feet. His tall frame seemed almost too big for the couch, but he moved with careful steps, still unsure, still hesitant. You grinned, tugging gently, and he finally allowed himself to follow, fingers brushing against yours like he was testing whether this was really happening.

“Okay…” he whispered, voice soft, barely audible. “I’ll… I’ll come with you.”

The air outside was cool and crisp, smelling faintly of asphalt warmed by the day and the faint scent of fallen leaves. The party behind you was a muffled beat now, laughter echoing softly through the windows. Every step on the gravel crunched underfoot, a tiny sound that seemed enormous in the quiet night.

Bertholdt walked beside you, tall and tense, his long fingers brushing against his thighs as if they could help ground him.

“Where… exactly are we going?” he asked quietly, voice low, hesitant but not trembling.

“Somewhere private,” you said, letting your hand lightly brush his as you walked. Just a touch, nothing more, but enough to make him shift slightly toward you.

He stopped for a second, studying you. “Private?”

“Yes,” you said, smiling faintly. “It’s nothing bad, I promise. Just… away from the crowd for a moment.”

He exhaled slowly, clearly trying to think it through. “And… you just… decided I should come along?”

“Maybe,” you said, tugging gently at his hand. “Maybe I just want you there.”

He hesitated, then glanced down at your hand, then back up at your face. “I… alright.” His voice was quiet, careful, measured. “I’ll follow.”

You grinned, sensing how cautious he still was. The silence stretched a little as you walked together, your fingers brushing occasionally against his arm, his reactions tiny but noticeable.

Finally, the truck came into view. The tinted windows glimmered under the streetlight, the metal cool and sleek. Bertholdt froze in place, taking a careful step closer, as if measuring whether the whole thing might be a trap.

“The… truck?” he asked, eyebrows slightly raised.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your tone soft and teasing. “Come on.”

His lips pressed together, and he took a tentative step, then another. “You… I wasn’t expecting this,” he admitted.

“That’s the fun part,” you whispered, letting your fingers brush along his side as you guided him toward the door.

He stiffened, tall frame awkwardly bending to the step as you gently guided him, pushing just enough at his waist to encourage him forward. He stumbled slightly, finally folding into the backseat. His eyes were wide, tracking your movements, hands unsure where to rest.

“You… you really—” he started, then stopped, swallowed, eyes darting to the door as you slid it closed with a soft click.

You leaned close, letting your body warm his side, fingers trailing lightly across his chest. “Relax,” you murmured. “Just follow my lead, Bertie.”

The leather groaned under you as you straddled him, skirt riding high up your thighs. The truck was humid, the air sticky, tinted windows fogging as your breath mingled with his. Bertholdt sat stiffly, hands hovering uselessly at your sides like he was terrified to touch you.

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “You can put your hands on me, Bert. I want you to.”

A shiver ran down his spine. His palms landed tentatively on your hips, squeezing like you might disappear if he held too hard. You rewarded him with a slow roll of your hips, the hard line of his cock pressing against you through his jeans. His head fell back with a shaky groan.

“See? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Y-yeah… but… here, in Reiner’s truck?” His voice cracked. “What if someone—”

You silenced him with a kiss, slow and deep, until he was melting under you. When you pulled away, his lips were pink and wet, chest rising and falling too fast.

“Relax. No one’s gonna see us.” You guided his trembling hand under your skirt, pressed it right between your thighs.

His breath hitched. The thin cotton of your panties was already damp, and his long fingers twitched nervously against the heat there.

“Feel that?” you whispered. “That’s all for you.”

“Y-Y/N…” His face burned red, but when you dragged his fingers beneath the fabric, into the slick heat of your folds, he groaned like he’d just been gutted. “Fuck… you’re… wet, s-so warm—”

“Curl them,” you ordered, grinding against his palm. “Deeper. Mmh—like that…”

The air filled with wet sounds as his long fingers clumsily worked you open. His inexperience showed, but the desperate way he whimpered every time you clenched around him made it hotter.

“Am I—doing it right?” he stammered, forehead pressed to your shoulder as he tried to keep up.

“God, yes… just like that,” you moaned, clutching his wrist as you rode his hand. Sparks shot up your spine, your body arching when his fingers brushed that tender spot inside you.

Your panties grew sticky, bunched at the side. He couldn’t stop staring, mouth hanging open, at the way you rocked yourself on his hand like you were using him.

“Take them off,” you demanded, tugging at the damp fabric.

He obeyed instantly, helping you peel them down your thighs until they dangled from one ankle.

Bertholdt looked dazed, pupils blown wide, his fingers glistening from where he’d pulled them out of you. His breath came ragged, chest heaving under his shirt, and his cock twitched painfully against his stomach.

You leaned in close, lips ghosting over his ear. “Bet you want to know just how sweet I taste.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed hard. “Y…yeah.”

That single word was all the permission you needed. You shifted off his lap, tugging your skirt up high on your hips as you laid back across the seat cushions. The leather was cool against your overheated skin, thighs spread, panties already abandoned somewhere on the floor.

“C-Can I… really?” he stammered, already fumbling onto his knees on the seat. His tall frame folded awkwardly, legs too long for the cramped space, but he didn’t care. He stared at you like a man starved, face flushed, hands gripping your thighs so tightly his knuckles blanched.

“Come taste me, Bert.”

He groaned like it hurt, lowering himself until his breath tickled the slick heat between your thighs. Tentative at first, the tip of his tongue brushed your folds, gathering your wetness. The sound he made—broken, desperate—went straight to your core.

“God—you’re…” He cut himself off, diving back in, tongue flattening against your clit.

Your hips jerked. A sharp moan tore out of you, echoing through the truck. He latched onto the sound, tongue circling clumsily but eagerly, nose bumping your mound as he pressed closer.

“Slow… slow, Bert,” you gasped, tangling your fingers in his hair. You guided him, tilting his chin just right until he dragged the broad flat of his tongue over your swollen clit in long, lazy strokes.

Your thighs trembled around his ears. “Just like that—fuck—you’re doing so good for me.”

The praise spurred him on. His tongue grew bolder, dipping into your slick heat, then back up to tease your clit until your entire body arched. He moaned into you, shameless, as if the taste alone was enough to undo him.

“Y/N,” he panted against your cunt, lips shiny, chin wet. “You’re dripping—so much—I can’t…” He broke off with another groan, tongue plunging back inside like he couldn’t stop himself.

Your back arched hard, a cry spilling from your throat as the coil in your stomach snapped. You came against his mouth, thighs clamping around his head, grinding desperately on his tongue.

He let you, groaning and swallowing down everything you gave him, holding your hips down as you shuddered through it.

When your body finally relaxed, you cracked your eyes open to find him still kneeling there, wrecked. His lips were slick with you, hair mussed from your grip, cock straining hard against his jeans.

“Y-you taste…” He swallowed, staring at you with ruined devotion. “So good. I—I want more.”

You were still trembling from the orgasm he’d given you, thighs sticky, chest heaving, when you tugged him up from between your legs. His body folded awkwardly in the cramped space, but he obeyed you, messy mouth meeting yours in a desperate kiss. The taste of yourself smeared over both your tongues, and you moaned into him, savoring the need that made his lips shake.

“Good boy,” you murmured against his mouth. “Now fuck me.”

Your hand slid down, fumbling his jeans lower. He hissed when his cock sprang free, flushed and leaking, slapping hot and heavy against your stomach. Your fingers wrapped around the thick base, stroking him lazily just to watch his face crumble.

“Y/N—” His head fell forward, forehead resting against yours, voice breaking. “Please… don’t tease me anymore. I can’t—”

You smirked, guiding the head of his cock through your folds, smearing your wetness all over him. He groaned, hips twitching helplessly as you rocked him against your swollen clit.

“You feel that, Bert? How wet you made me?”

His eyes squeezed shut, jaw tight. “I-I’ll cum if you keep—fuck—”

Before he could fall apart too soon, you angled him down, pressing the thick tip to your entrance. His eyes flew open, wide and glassy as you sank down onto him, inch by inch.

The stretch made you cry out, nails digging into his shoulders. He was huge, filling you so deep your walls clenched desperately around him. Bertholdt let out a strangled whimper, collapsing forward to cage you against the seat.

“Y/N… you’re so tight—so warm—I can’t… oh god—” His hips stuttered as he bottomed out, buried fully inside you.

You held his face, forcing him to look at you as you clenched around him. “You’re inside me now, Bert. All of you.”

He moaned, broken, and kissed you hard, sloppy and uncoordinated. His hips moved on instinct, shallow thrusts that dragged his cock along every soaked ridge of your walls. The wet slap of skin filled the truck, obscene and loud enough to make your stomach twist at the thought of someone walking by.

You rolled your hips, meeting him stroke for stroke. The angle had him slamming against your sweet spot, and you cried out, clutching at his broad back.

“Faster,” you begged, nails leaving red streaks down his skin. “Fuck me, Bert—please—”

That plea shattered what little control he had left. He gripped your thighs, pushing them open wider, and drove into you harder. The truck rocked with each thrust, windows fogging, leather squeaking under the violent pace.

Your moans tangled with his ragged gasps. He was loud now, whimpering and groaning into your shoulder, chanting your name like a prayer.

“Y/N—I can’t—I think I’m gonna—”

You clenched around him, dragging his mouth to your ear. “Cum inside me. Fill me up, Bert.”

That ruined him. He cried out, hips slamming forward as he spilled deep inside you, cock twitching as hot cum flooded your cunt. The sensation sent you spiraling too, your walls fluttering around him as another orgasm ripped through you.

You both collapsed, tangled and breathless, the air thick with sweat and sex. Cum dripped down your thighs onto the seat, your skirt bunched high around your hips as Bertholdt shivered on top of you, still buried deep.

He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, face flushed and wrecked. “I… I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

You smirked, kissing the corner of his swollen mouth. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”