mi

Words fell from your mouth just before you were interrupted by the loud thuds on the other side of the door. Three times. You startled; back straight and the confidence you just had was stuck between your knees you were pressing together.

The next sound filled the room, it felt like a crash against the door of your office. The heavy door almost cried, or maybe it was your brain turning this into a tragedy. The confidence you had seconds ago scattered into pieces just like the clock hanging on your wall. It was a gift from an old friend of yours, you couldn't remember his name but you know you wouldn’t be able to decorate your psychiatrist office if he wasn’t there.

He was the one with the taste after all.

All you can do was looking at the pieces on the ground now, the pieces of time, laying on the dark red carpet.

“We still have twenty three minutes.”

It’s his voice caught your attention again, it had some type of dominance in it that made you forget the scratching noises coming from the wooden door. It was gentle as much as it mocks you. He continued only when he saw your eyes on him again, your look met with his body on his knees first. They were apart and it felt like your whole body could fit there, if you try to sit on the small space between the antique coffee table and the dark leather couch he was sitting at.

“Don’t worry, Ma’am. I am good at counting, I will inform you when our session is done.” He spoke in a calm tone; and when you try to reach the table clock next to your notebook, you soon realize that the clock is gone.

Your patient smiled reassuringly, you barely could hear the scratching sounds. It made your nails itch and it made you take a deep breath to focus on him once again. There were things you admire about your patient, one of them was how he would wait for an eternity until he has your attention. He would hold his gaze on you until he hears your next words.

“Don’t you remember, Ma’am? You asked me a question. Would you like to repeat it for me?”

Of course you remember.

You smiled, your eyes finally left his legs, fine black fabric was hugging his strong limbs as usual. You asked your question as you let your eyes wander on his white shirt, without a permission, this is one of the signs of how much he cares about these sessions.

“Please tell me, why did you quit writing?” The tip of your fingers brushed over the notes from your past sessions, there are way too many pages. You took a mental note to seperate the ones about him just after this one. You continued. “Just before you publish your most expected book— if I remember right?”

“Ah,” Your patient smiled while looking into your eyes directly as soon as he caught them in his green orbs. “You remember every detail just perfect, it’s almost like you read about me every single night before you sleep.”

There is silence in the room, and you wonder why your curtains are so dark, a little bit of sunlight would be cheering for the patients.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jaeger?”

“Do you also remember how I would be pleased if I hear my name instead of hearing you calling me Mister?”

This time you had to look at the hand on your lap for a moment and this way you were able to take a breath again. He was using the gentle tone of him, however it felt like you were crushing under the humiliation every time he speaks.

He knows how to control his anger, you reminded to yourself. This is not the thing he doesn’t know how to control, make him talk. “I am hearing you, Eren.” For a moment, you sounded provocative. A smile formed on his lips and that little smile made the synthetic confidence stuck in your body, giving you an illusion of a time and space where you were his equal.

“I quit because I fell in love, Ma’am.”

Your head got foggy for a moment, maybe you should call someone for taking care of the mice. Your nails hurt time to time but it’s nothing like the pain your heart carries. I fell in love, he said. You know your patient is not able to love. It would be a disaster. A disaster, a disaster, a disaster—

“This is lovely, Eren.” You smile. “What was your motivation behind it? You didn't want to scare her with your fresh book, I assume?”

He finally gave you a chance to observe him when he closed his eyes slowly and his head fell to the back of the couch like it was heavy to carry. There’s a tattoo on the left side of the column of his neck, his chest on his display as much as the buttons allow you.

You watched his wide shoulders moving featherly with half lidded eyes. Then his whole chest started to vibrate. Oh, he was laughing. Another act to hide his anger or the discomfort.

“I kept the book to myself because I was scared, yes. The type of fear i had never experienced before, it was eating me alive.” His eyes climbed all the way up on your body, then found your eyes and lingered there. “I had no intentions to share her, you see.”

You spoke in one breath. “Please be more clear.”

“I fell in love with the woman I created.”

Silence. The patient continued. “As soon as I realized she’s the only thing I can write, I quit— never published the book, trapped her there.”

You shivered on your seat. “What makes you think that she’s trapped?”

This wasn’t the question on your mind. You had to tell him he sounds like a bad person and he is not one.

“It’s the perfect description for her. She was made for me. All those pages are there to make her stay. Here—“ He brushes his temple with the tip of his pointer finger. “She’s safe and all for my use.”

Your breath hitched, this is the time you realized you were sitting like a sick person since the beginning. The image you thought you have left your mind immediately and you think this room has to have a mirror one day, or any reflective surface.

You felt like you are his patient for the first time in that session, the silence remained as he watched your struggle to find a new position with a smile on his lips.

Silence. Scratches.

“Tell me Eren, do you in a need of a friend? Please enlighten me, why a creature creates?” He grinned, the next time he talked he acted like your first question doesn’t even exist.

It was your fault, asking multiple questions to him, you knew. You knew that Eren Jaeger always choose the one he wants; he is the one who leads the conversation to where he wants and sometimes it makes you feel like you are here just because he chose you.

Your patient sat straight most of the time, his body language was some way always inviting. He only let you remind yourself he is a writer time to time; he would pick his words to speak poetical, his next sentence would make you think he was struggling to form a sentence. Even his mind games were creative, not giving you any chance to realize that you were sitting here all the time without any barrier between you and him. If he’s not able to hold a conversation, he would barely be able to hold someone in his hands, yes?

Just before he answered you, you already knew he doesn’t in a need of a friend. You’re the company i prefer, he already said.

“I like your questions, Ma’am.” He licked his lips for a fake pause, he had enough time to collect his words. “We create to exist, don’t you think? We create to live one more day. We create to keep our soul alive, floating on the air and those minds we planted ourselves in. It’s the most selfish thing when you think of it yet we all worship the ones who gave us the ninth symphony, Mona Lisa, field equations. You all pay a price for our creations, you give us a life to live for a lifetime until you whisper the simple melody in your child’s ear, until you scribble a sentence from my book on a page.”

There was silence again, your nails hurt by holding your skirt in your fist for every second he holds his gaze on you. There was a gentle expression on your face as you watched the man who stole the Devil’s eyes.

“What’s the difference between you and a god, Eren?”

The patient reached for his water and you watched him how he wets his lips. It took him so long to play with his glass that for a moment you thought you are here to admire his beauty; the knuckles around the glass and his silver rings tapping against it.

“I like your skirt, Ma’am.”

An unexpected puff of air left your mouth. “That’s so kind of you—”

“Can I feel it? What’s the texture of it? Is it as smooth as it seems?”

The next time you spoke, you sounded authoritative, which made him chuckle with delight. “Once again you are distracted.”

“Although the pieces are shattered, my full attention is on you, Ma'am. Have my actions disappointed you?” He finally gave up his upright posture, let his back meet with the black leather. His smile was a harbinger of the things he was going to say.

“Isn’t it an arousing thing— catching my attention with only a piece of fabric?”

Silence. Scratches. Maybe the door was weeping, you thought.

“Would you like to tell me about the woman you love, Eren?”

Your voice was steady as you talk, you decided to focus on his jaw until you hear his velvety tone. “Look into my eyes and I’ll tell you about her.” He added lazily, almost as a formality. “Please.”

Your eyes crawled up without skipping any of the wrinkles of his white shirt. After the numerous therapy sessions you could say when your patient was pleased and when he was not.

“I like the way she’s not aware of herself— ah, not at all. Adorable. Almost every wind brings her scent to me, carries it. Can you comprehend how often I have to control myself? Sometimes she smells like the chocolate that melts on my tongue, sometimes it’s those jasmines I pass by— and sometimes it’s your fucking perfume, Ma’am.”

You paused.

You didn't wear any perfume that day.

“I see.” You put your pen on your notebook with a swift motion. “Is this how you deal with the hate you receive, Eren? With the help of her? You mentioned recent letters before you quit. I want you to be honest with me, did you create her just to make her your savior? It’s okay to be in a need of a s—”

Your patient’s laughs interrupted you. Pity was dripping down from every melodic laugh even though you didn’t want to admit. “There are some thoughts that people like to run when they feel trapped. Just like this one, Ma’am. Those patterns make me laugh every time i recognize one of them, sorry for my inappropriate behavior. I suggest you to believe some of the people born with the need of being a savior instead of having a savior. Especially the ones that cursed with a predatory way of thinking. No other thought can calm them but a prey breathing alive at their feet. To convince themselves that they are pretty close to think like a modern human.”

A prey breathing alive at their feet. Silence.

Your voice trembled as you spoke like the flame of the single candle illuminating the dark. “I- is this what you do? Protecting her from another predators by never publishing the book? How—”

“Ah, I know what’s coming next. I keep my prey wounded.” His eyes were on you that it drove you crazy. All the time, his eyes were on you like you are the only valuable thing in this room. “That’s how I tame her. I gave her an unstable mind to think with.”

This time he didn’t you give any chance to dominate the conversation, he continued with a tone that bites your skin. “I know what you are afraid of, Ma’am. Mmh, i can see it in the depths of your pretty eyes.” The patient smiles. “If I was looking for a savior it wouldn't be to share the hate I get. You should’ve known me better, hm? Hate is running through my system like the nicotine. Those people— hah hah— I smoked them all, inhaled them all the way in. The love was the thing I couldn’t handle as the way I like.”

You whispered, unable to move a muscle. “You created her to learn how to love.”

The patient didn’t give you a response, he played with his rings until the movements of his fingers put you in a hypnosis.

“If she’s a part of you, don’t you find it dangerous, Eren? How safe putting another voice inside your head is?”

“Mmh—” That purr sounded like you just woke him up from the sweetest dreams, he sounded like you were about to put him in the most peaceful sleep. He asked you a simple question, nothing more. “Have you ever heard of her voice, Ma'am?”

Your gaze fell on his lap, he realized immediately. “Answer me with your words and I’ll let you watch me as much as you please.”

“How can I even hear her? Teach me how to do.” The patient tasted jealousy from your tone.

“I hear her voice every time I touch my mother’s piano. I hear her voice when Chopin plays and I know she hides herself in Moonlight Sonata when she’s scared. I know how would she moan in my bed and I’ve heard every noise her sweet mouth made.”

His mother. You finally had a path to trace. “Does she remind you of your mother, Eren?”

His tone softened. “Yes, Ma.”

“What?”

Silence. Scratches. He finally continued after couple of minutes, he sounded like his words were stolen from an old memory where he was happy.

“Her kisses on my temple would feel the same as my mother’s— and the way she would hold me tight until i fall asleep—” His eyes focused on you again, made you realize how fast he was able to adapt the changes inside of his mind. “Ma’am, do you remember our session when I told you my favorite Greek tragedy was Sophocles’ Oedipus?”

You did, however it felt like it was a long time ago. Decades, maybe. Your eyelashes fluttered. “I remember, Eren. It’s the perfect tragedy for you when someone’s free will is taken, isn’t it?”

“It’s cute that you fight this passionate for a thing you barely have.” There was a chuckle escaped from his throat, it was childish without any innocence in it. “Please put me in my place, tell me Ma’am, when was the last time you decided on something?”

“I—” When you swallowed dryly, it felt like this unsettling feeling already had a nest in the pit of your stomach, growing there.

“You what? C’mon, I want to hear it from you.” The patient encouraged you to talk and you wondered; why were you here in the first place?

Every time your eyes met with his face you couldn’t help but admired him. The features of your patient always looked like it was drawn by painter, as if carved by a sculptor. Pink color of his lips was stolen from the most venomous flower, the movements of his veins when he slowly moved his hands on his thick thighs felt like he was hiding snakes under his skin.

When was the last time you decided on something?

“The clock.” You answered in a rush. “I decided to hang the clock on the wall— once.”

Eren smiles. Silence.

“L- let’s get back to her. Does she have a name?” It’s the sweet tone of yours once again, you could call it cheerful if it wasn’t this monotonous.

“Hah,” His eyes reminded you of foxes for a moment. The green color messes with your head every time he finds a way to step into your mind, makes you lost in wild forests until he makes sure you forgot all the steps you took. “Of course she has a name— the reason of my trembling hands every time I write and the saccharine taste on my tongue the times I whisper it over and over again. You can hear me chanting it if you get really close; like a pray, a mantra, tanrıçama bir dua.”

For the first time you laugh, hysterically. “The touch of your mother, protection of a friend, a stranger woman’s perfume you pass by on a fan event, hands that you saw only couple of seconds while reaching for the same book—”

He knew what you were doing, you could see it even as he shifted his position and moved a little closer. "Continue, Ma'am."

“You painted her skin with your bare hands and you gave her your thoughts that you were afraid to share. Even though you knew some of them would spread as a mold just like they did in you.” You took a breath in without knowing if it would reach into your lungs. “You build her piece by piece, don’t you? You steal from dead people — you steal from earth— and the ones who breathe next to you. Even at the very beginning— you didn’t give her a mind to let her make decisions to lead the story, you gave her a mind just to watch her never ending agony. You told me once, we as humankind suffer only because we are aware of ourselves.”

The light tone escaped from his voice and left darkness behind, only to make you shiver in your seat. The patient’s words were well chosen, as if you were reading a book — his book — written years before. “You forgot how I steal the warmth of living things just to keep her alive in my mind. You forgot to tell me how brutal it makes me— the way I use dull bodies of women and men in my bed only to present her.”

A disaster. Silence.

You realized there were dried blood beneath your fingernails. You should clean them after the session. Don’t forget the mice.

Eren interrupted your thoughts as he sensed they were getting all over the place again. Those reminders and his firm words felt like a tug on your leash, just sometimes. “Have I ever told you the story of Prometheus, Ma’am?”

“Only how he stole the fire from gods and how stupid you find his decision.”

The patient chuckled. It was you sitting all pretty; both hands on your lap and the tips of your fingers caressing every spot in your palms, tenderly. Your knees were pressed together since the beginning, Eren knew he needed to untense your body before they start to ache. Even though the pain your body has was the reason of the tempting pain inside of his pants.

Just before he started to talk, an opened page of your notebook caught your eye. There was three words on the top, circled with black ink over and over again.

sadistic personality disorder.

His words echoed in your head, his voice got louder each time he struck and mixed with one of your thoughts, and eventually disappeared into the depths of your mind. ‘Even the fetishes can be manipulated, Ma’am. Since we both studied about it, you should be able to understand a small portion of the things i tell you. Mmh, you see? The expression you had on your beautiful face the first time I underestimated you is all gone now— and I would prove myself if I had a hand where you would drip or where i can feel your heartbeats just to tell the humiliation once disgusted you now arouses you. Do you know where we hide them— our fetishes? Very close to the surface. They float there, wait until someone gets close enough to tease them to come out. They live inside of our minds, next to our traumas and our biggest disappointments. It’s the same brain that will tell you to put your hands over your cheeks to protect yourself from the man you’ve came from— and it’s the same brain will make you cry for more if I bend you over my knee to spank you until you can’t count. With all my respect, Ma'am. You know I talk hypothetically. Just the way you like when I do. The things some people — you — think if they are buried they’ll be safe are not buried deep enough. They are miserably close, in the palm of my hand. That’s what scares me. And I would do anything for you to let me show you how you should bury them deep properly.’

You remember how he continued. ‘Even though I describe myself as a selfish humanbeing, I like to warn the prey. I know you did your research, you know how I got my fan base after the first book I published even though it was a gory story about a famous painter who hunts down the bodies he would like to see on his canvas. Especially the bodies that would come to his art gallery just a day before, talking to him about how spectacular they find the way he portray humans in his art with such bright eyes. You see; Mr. Kruger was my Dr. Jekyll. I saw the same bewitched look in a stranger woman’s eyes after couple of months— while signing my own book, isn’t it such a lovely coincidence? Those people invite the things they thought they were hiding under their bed as a child now into their bed as an adult, it amuses me. I am the one that can help you to bury your desires far from your fears— to protect you from someone who’s skilled at finding spots inside your pretty body— to protect you from someone who knows where to push and stimulate. I am the one that can help you to bury properly because I know how to dig them out better than everyone.’

You stared at your handwriting blankly. It was ridiculously similar with a man’s handwriting Eren once knew, he once loved; italic and clean, reminded him his blonde locks and feminine hands.

“What was the torture of Prometheus, Ma'am?”

“It’s an easy one, Eren.” When you smile, it hurt your skin, made the edge of your lips twitch. “I- it was the eagle that ate his liver every day. It was the pain of it.”

“Nah- ah- ah.” The patient tutted. He was holding the empty glass in his left hand, the tip of his middle finger were tracing the outline of it, achingly slow.

“It was the rhythm that tortured him.” His honeyed voice lulled you to sleep that you know it was filled with nightmares. Then he found a rhythm — his own rhythm — by knocking on the glass with one of his silver rings, it was the snake that circles around his pointer finger slily. “It was the monotony threatened his sanity— the way his liver healed every night and the way the same eagle came to eat it in the exact moment. The funny thing is, Ma’am, a myth says that he was saved by the rhythm. It says he observed it once he realized all the things were in a loop except him, he infiltrated into the routine until his every breath were planned before.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. You were sure it was the first time you were hearing this yet you knew the ending. “The chains,” You told him quietly, there were fresh tears in the corner of your eyes. “He pulled them once in a day— in the same exact second — just after the eagle left, until it was a part of the loop. And one day he pulled them with all of his strength— only to wait to heal his severed limbs and escape.”

Eren Jaeger gave you a heart warming smile yet it wasn’t even enough to warm your cold skin. He is pretty, you thought. “You are getting better at this.”

Pretty cruel.

Silence. Scratches. Would he get disgusted by the dried blood underneath your nails?

“Do you in a need of a friend, you asked me.” Eren leaned back as if he was searching for a better angle to watch his favorite view. “You, Ma’am, I crave your company.”

He was challenging you with everything he has; his inviting eyes and confident posture. His ego was way too intense that for a moment you thought you could steal some of it from him; to think like him, feel like him. “I would like to keep our distance, Eren. I am your—“

His short laugh found its way all the way down in your body until you felt the effects of it between your thighs. “Ha ha! What? You are my what?”

You knew it was an onerous preparation, the play was well written. Even though you thought you were ready for any reaction of him, your heart started to beat faster when you recognized the bold look on his face. The reassuring voice inside your head failed you again, let you trust his honeyed words instead.

“Ah, you think of distances as quite material. It saddens me. It—”

You cut him, you sounded almost like your patient with the wit in your voice. “It’s adorable, isn’t it? The way I think we have a distance to keep.”

He didn’t even look surprised. He likes you when you are bold or when you cry at his feet. And when he wanted you close, he finally murmured. “Relax your body for me.” He watched the movements of your shoulders, your whole chest intently. Your aching back met with soft leather, hands still holding the fabric of your skirt.

“That’s good. Now your legs, please.” For the first time, you see the desperate look on his face. “Open them wide. Show me how bad you want to keep our distance.”

When Eren commands, his words are intentionally plain as if you wouldn’t understand them. He has his way with words —maybe this is why he wrote best sellers only, you thought— it was the thing that scares you since the day he stepped into your psychiatrist office.

Did he ever step into this place? It felt like you were the doll of his that he put on this couch since the first day.

You parted your legs, your knees brushed over the coffee table featherly as Eren moved the heavy table almost like an instinct and leaned back again. He was a calculative man with strong instincts, that’s all.

The cold air hit the wetness between your legs, Eren’s gaze lingered on your face as if it was your reactions he was interested in. You could see the fabric he was holding in one of his fists; your panties. With half lidded eyes, you murmured. “Since when?”

There was an adoring look on his face as he watched your fingers brushing over your slit, he spoke softly. “You know it, my love— since the beginning— you know i can’t live away from you. I keep a piece of you always.”

You smiled. “How do I smell like this time? Tell me ‘ren, from whom did you steal my scent?”

Silence. You couldn’t even hear the scratches.

“I want to feel you.” Eren murmured almost to himself, he knew you would hear. And it sounded like a complaint not because of the growing ache inside of his pants but also because of the emptiness nestled deep in him.

You weren’t playing with yourself even though it was you wetting your fingers with your folds, he was the one playing with himself all along; like a lonely child trapped in a room.

And you pitied that boy, you pulled yourself up to close the distance.

“No, not like that.” He made you sit back on your seat. Once again his demands were clear. “Crawl.”

As you put your hands on the table that separates you, a satisfied look formed on his handsome face. Then your knees met with the wooden surface, your feet knocked your glass off. When his thumb caressed your ear, you couldn’t hear anything but his heart beats. His slender fingers got lost in your hair, the slow movements against your scalp made you close your eyes quietly.

Eren likes to kiss you in the dark, this is why he choose the times where your eyes hide under your eyelids. He kissed you tenderly, it was unbelievably soft for someone who wanted to feel you this bad.

Then he spoke to your lips softly, as if he could hear inside of your mind. “This is the best way of feeling someone, sweetheart. Here—” He held your hand with his own and guided it to his cheek. And you could swear that your patient twitched slightly as your hand landed on his warm skin, your eyes were on the dried blood coloring the tip of your fingers. Eren looked like he didn’t care, he murmured. “Try it yourself.”

It was you crushing your lips with his this time. Eren sighed into the kiss, dreamily. There were words he put on your lips between his breaths that he stole from you. “You, Ma’am—you are so fucking addictive.”

Strong hands snaked around the back of your thighs as Eren pulled you into his embrace. The first thing your patient did was hugging you, such an innocent act. His lips that tasted your lips soon after found the soft skin on the side of your neck.

Even though the famous writer Eren Jaeger was a natural talent when it comes to describing things that can’t be described, the taste your skin left on his tongue made him forget every single word. However every time he tried to do, in his mind there was this faint memory when his mother took him to the bakery and tasted the most delicious cake on his birthday.

A synthetic, broken happiness he couldn’t get enough; maybe it was your flavor.

His hands grazed over the fabric of your shirt and a venomous idea filled his brain. A beautiful smile adorned his lips as he took off your shirt completely, leaving your bare skin cold and unguarded.

One of his hands found the back of your hand once again. The tip of his middle finger traced your spine, he felt every bump and how his teasing touch made you arch your back, now your whole chest were on display for him. “Tell me.” He murmured into your skin as he kissed the place where your sternum ends.

“How does it feel, my love? I want to know—“ You ignored his question, you didn’t want to hear the rest. And he let you do so, waiting for the venom to spread all of his body.

You hear how his left hand unfastening his belt buckle, the same hand that composed you once; his chef d'oeuvre. He whispered into your ear, his voice is cold and cruel. “I want to know how does it feel not being real. Would it hurt more than being alive and miserable?”

Silence. The irritating sound of the scratches, dried blood in your nails and the faded ache on your wrist that has never been touched before.

A gasp escaped from your mouth as he made you take him in, all of him. The mesmerized look in his eyes kept its place while his fingertips brushed your lips to give him the access. It almost hurt. Not the existence of him in you but the fact that how you felt embarrassingly completed while you were clenching around his length, as if it was the one single body you’ve been sharing all along.

The urge of filling you with his essence in every way possible was quite natural to him; you were an unconditionally, utterly perfect mess formed by perfectly organized flaws adorning your pretty body and mind.

An unstabilized mind that was easy to mess it, only with the flick of his finger or a small compliment on your skirt.

He felt like it was such a simple impulse, wanting to keep you close this bad. That was why Eren kept you to himself, he knew you were a creature that people would be scared to touch, scared to analyze. It would be the perfect tragedy to watch in pure bliss and agony, the tragedy written by him.

There was a spark in your dull eyes, it was the desire growing inside of you since you knew how much power he actually has. He did a good job putting these animal impulses in you, it was the reason of your trembling hands wandering on his naked torso, it was the reason of the enthusiastic movements of your hips as you rode him over the edge.

In this Paper World, Eren Jaeger was stronger than everything. He could drown you in the ink and he could make you stuck between the pages like he once did.

As he pushed two digits into your warm mouth, you tasted apples.

“Banish me, Eren. I beg you. This is not a cure, it’s a curse.” He smiled like he heard nothing and you whimpered. “Please, Eren. Lütfen. I know what it feels like to be lost and lonely and invisible.”

His hands held your hips firmly and he thrusted his own upwards to shush you. Your fingers tangled with his black hair.

Maybe it was the glitch of the system — his matrix — or maybe it was an intention that looked like a mistake just like one of his tactics he used to manipulate; you had some of his memories, they were planted deep inside your mind. There was this woman with such a soft voice, looking from above and telling that how she liked his brown locks, whispering him to keep it in that color forever. Now the obsidian color slipping between your fingers was messing with your head.

It didn’t matter how hard he tried, how rough he held your hips or how deep he fucked you; you still had the ability to talk. And you both knew it was a thing you had to thank Eren for giving it to you. In theory, worshipping was the true word.

“Will I ever be able to understand the pain you felt, Eren?” You looked into his eyes as his head fell back by your violent tugs, contrary to your soft spoken words. “It’s— it’s a type of pain that I won’t let you to feel, my love. Every single emotion you carry in your heart is because of me, not mine.”

“I love you.” He whimpered as he brushed over a particular spot in you, his eyes were teary, you could see how they were shining. He kissed the tips of your fingers, then he whispered almost to himself. “I’ll hurt you.”

He tried everything to find any fear in your eyes, as if it was an act of feeding something in him — something primal — since he didn’t know how to feed it with love. His voice was cold as a corpse again, his body burned you. The way he fucked you so gentle even though he had no mercy for you burned. “I told you, I keep my prey wounded. I’ll make sure you are broken enough to stay here.”

"Here? If you're never going to let me out of this room, why did you create a whole world for me?”

Eren had a deep chuckle, it made you shiver as he let you hear one of them. You were not a stupid doll; he was proud of his creation, he was happy. “Isn’t it quite similar to the concept of creating this whole universe just to put miserable humankind in, sweetheart? I am not the one missing something.”

Except me, you thought. You had everything as a narcissistic god expect me.

“Yes—“ He breathed while guiding you on his lap by holding you close to his chest. You already knew his trembling hands were telling you that he was close. You knew even though you thought it was the first time he was stretching you, the first time he held you this close. “Except you, my smart baby.”

You knew nothing.

He trapped you here, before the time began. He filled the walls of your office with every book that he read in his entire life. You knew every song he liked, every secret poem he wrote. You had some of his memories that he picked attentively, the memories that would make you feel pity for him, eventually make you fall for him. And you did, how could you not? He was the Doctor Jekyll every time you open your eyes in your office to find yourself sitting on the seat in the same position. You were watching him turning into Mister Hyde to reveal the truth about you, his masterpiece, the woman he was going to live his life with.

In this room, the time was already shattered. Eren Jaeger loved putting metaphors in his story, this is why there was a broken clock on the carpet. He was never going to warn you if your session is over because it’s not going to happen.

You didn’t know how many times you came while he was hugging your waist with his arms, you didn’t know if it was another metaphor of him— fucking you not like his slave but as his queen. You didn’t know if he already knew how much it affected you when he looked at you between his lashes, making himself too powerful that humans couldn’t comprehend then giving the control of his body only to make you feel ethereal.

You didn't know if it was the first time him burying his head where your heart would beat if you would have one, you didn’t know if it was a habit of him telling you that don’t leave me over and over again as he came in you.

You didn’t know because you kept forgetting the things happened before, as if it was the beginning of an another chapter, as if it was him hiding the pages from you intentionally. You didn’t know his life was filled with you just like his mind and soul. You didn’t know that he was sickly tidy before you came into his life, now his walls were filled with the drawings of you and he kept everything that would smell like you. He had records about how you would sound like and he felt no shame when he invited women and men in his bed to make them his voodoo doll, never letting them into the room he would share with you. You didn’t know after those bodies disgusted him, he would touch himself until he cums to the thought of you.

He always thought no one could create like him, no one would be able to seperate their minds to give their creation a character that they don’t have. He was never going to be sure if his creation was successful and you were the only one living with agony or it was him fooling himself once again and living with not only his but also your misery.

The thing that was hurting him the most was watching you running to the door, just after you realize this was the torture of you. And he was disgusted to admit but it was also the thing gave him a kind of pleasure he never felt, it was purely primal.

Your skirt was the only thing covering your body as you got off of his lap. You knew it was not the way you clawed at his chest made him let you go. In his sick mind giving you the hope and hearing your whimpers was a simple punishment for wanting to leave him alone.

It made him shiver every time he heard your sore purrs in front of that door because he knew you were right when you told him he even stole from the earth.

Eren Jaeger gave you the pained noises her mother made in her death bed.

You were breathing heavily, his cum that he put deep inside of you were dripping down your thigh as you were clawing at the door just like you did to his chest. The door was moving slightly, your hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before. And Eren made that hope stuck between your body and the door as he pushed you to the wooden door, trapping you completely.

“No, no, no, no, baby—” He tried to calm you while whispering into your ear. “You can’t.”

He leaned his whole body against you, his hands were holding you firmly. And this was when you understood how the realization of everything came to you as he came in you. You trusted the famous writer coming to you for a therapy because it was his devilish mind made you forget everything when everything starts again.

You hiccuped, the only thing you could move was your hands so you left marks on the wooden surface until there were blood under your nails. And the scratching sounds you created made you realize completely that he didn’t only make you stuck in this world but also in a loop he played again and again. It was you outside the door, begging for help and trying to warn yourself until all of your limbs were sore.

Your torture was not being stuck in the last book Eren Jaeger wrote, just like the torture of Prometheus, it was the rhythm that made everything forgotten. A rhythm he put in you.

In that chaos, while Eren was whispering into your ear his comforting words and kissing your tears away, you did one thing. You knocked on the door three times with all your might. It was the answer of Eren Jaeger’s dilemma, about the one if he was able to separate himself into two to give you a mind to think all different. It was the answer of it since he didn’t understand why you were reacting the same at the end of every loop, even the times he acted all different to watch your impulses.

He was a smart man after all, smart enough to create something sneakier than him. You both learned the same tragedies, the same myths from the same books. Since it was the tragedy of you, you didn’t have any chance other than trying to escape from him similiar to someone who escaped from a god, a torture of him.

You were knocking on the door in the same exact moment just before he made you forget, this was why your eyes were on the carpet, watching the broken clock to count the seconds. You were getting into the rhythm, those knocks were the part of Eren Jaeger’s creation. And you could live for an eternity with the hope of the scenario where you are going to break the door if you push the door hard enough.

However the voice of yourself from the otherside of the door almost made you lose your hope.

You were ready to help a god dressed as a man, you were unaware of everything.

“Tell me Eren, why did you quit writing?”

a metaphorical look of creation myth from an atheist’s perspective.

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