The deep, guttural rumble of his pickup truck tearing through the gravel drive is a warning, a proclamation—he’s home. Your spine straightens before you even realize it, ears attuned to the familiar sequence of his arrival—the creak of the screen door, the slam, the heavy thud of boots being kicked off near the welcome mat.  

Except today—silence. 

No boots. No pause. Just the hurried, uneven thud of his footsteps, heavier than usual, more urgent. A shiver races down your spine, instinct flaring before you can even turn—  

And then him.

Big. Encompassing. Swallowing you whole.  

His heat presses into your back, rough hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. You don’t need to look up to know his expression—you feel it. The tension coiled in his muscles, impatient huffs against the curve of your throat.  

“You scared me,” you whisper, voice trembling just slightly as your fingers lift, clawing back into the wild strands of his hair—midnight black, nearly blue in the dim light. It’s longer now, unruly, a messy tangle between a wolf cut and a short mullet, the front nearly falling into his eyes. Your nails scratch lightly at his scalp, and he exhales sharply through his nose, his apology a low, graveled grunt against your skin.  

“‘Couldn’t get to you fast enough." 

You know him.  

His anger, his irritation, the frustration clings to him like a second skin. It seeps into you like ink in water, dark and suffocating, a storm barely contained beneath the surface. Your body responds before your mind can catch up—arching back into him, your pulse fluttering beneath his touch. 

That’s when your hands shift, turning you just enough in his grasp to catch his gaze—and the moment you do, the world narrows.  

Those eyes. 

Deep gray, like storm clouds rolling in over the pasture, narrowed and restless beneath the weight of his scowl. His brows—thick, dark, almost severe—are knit together, tension carved into the space between them. At thirty two years old to your twenty nine? The years have only sharpened him, etching his features with an intensity that makes your breath catch. A full blooded Japanese man raised in the heart of the South, he’s a walking contradiction—heritage and home clashing in the best ways.  

And today, every inch of him shows it.  

Dust clings to him like a second skin, ground into the fabric of his filthy wifebeater, streaked across the navy and black flannel rolled up to his forearms. His tattoos—a sprawling canvas of ink swallowing his egregiously broad frame—peek out from beneath the dirt, the edges of them smudged with the day’s labor.  

Head ranchmen. Raising livestock. Wrestling miles of fencing. Hauling hay, operating machinery, fighting with the land and the heat and the men under him who can’t keep up—it’s all written across the stars. His muscles are still coiled tight, his jaw working as if the frustration hasn’t fully left his bones.  

And yet, god, he’s yours.  

The scent of him—sweat, leather, and something wild washes over you, a pheromone laden reminder of exactly who you belong to.  

You reach up, thumb smoothing gently between his furrowed brows.  

“You okay?”

He exhales sharply, "M’alright. Always doin’ this, woman. Thinkin’ I’m about to cry."

A laugh bubbles in your chest, but you press closer instead, fingers trailing down to cup his jaw.  

“My soul’s with yours," you remind him, tilting your chin up despite the height difference—“I know when you’re sick before you do—" 

He grunts at that, but there’s no real irritation behind it. Instead, he ducks his head, nudging his nose against yours in a rare moment of tenderness, the gesture contradicting every rough edge he wears so well.  

Toji’s head dips low, those storm gray eyes scanning you with the kind of focus that makes your pulse flutter.  

You stand there in white fuzzy socks, swallowed whole by the oversized replica of his flannel—the deep blue of it sharp against your caramel skin, sleeves slipping past your wrists, the hem hanging dangerously high on your thighs.  

And as your husband, he knows what’s beneath. 

The way your waist cinches in like a damn hourglass, unnaturally narrow compared to the flare of your hips—so wide, so heavy it looks like you’ve carried a child before. The ass that fills his palms perfectly, fat, jiggling with every step. And those tits—full, heavy, sitting high like they belong on a sultry pin up poster. His name—Fushiguro—in tiny cursive beneath the curve of your left breast, a claim he never gets tired of seeing.  

Your fingers drag gently through the hair at his nape, nails scratching lightly as you murmur, “Yumi missed you.” 

His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, calloused and rough—“‘Momma missed me too?”

You nod, just slightly, tilting your head with those fox eyes of yours—narrowed, knowing, stripping him bare of any lie he could try to spin.  

“Tell me what happened at work.”

His brow twitches, “You tellin’ me?”

You don’t argue. Just raise your brows, waiting.  

A beat. Then, with a sharp exhale, it spills—

“Men actin’ like goddamn children. Argued with me ‘bout the fence line—then one of ‘em nearly flipped the ATV ‘cause he wasn’t payin’ attention. ‘Whole damn day wasted fixin’ other people’s—” His voice deepens, slipping into sharp edged Japanese, “…Nande kon'na baka-domo to issho ni hatarakanakya naranē nda? Mattaku, kuso jikan'nomudada.” 

Why the hell do these idiots work for me? Total waste of fuckin’ time.

You stand on your tiptoes, pressing your thumb between his brows again, smoothing the crease there as you answer him—fluent, just like he taught you. 

“Son'nani ikatteiru to, fukeru no ga hayamarimasu yo.” 

You’ll age faster being so angry.

He pauses, nostrils flaring—before he lets out a sharp exhale, forehead dropping against yours.  

"...Goddamn, woman. ‘Always knowin’ how to shut me up.” 

You hum, pressing closer.  

“So that’s why you keep me around?” 

“Nah. Keep you ‘cause you’re mine.” 

You hum, fingertips tracing the corded muscle below his neck, your touch featherlight. 

“Did talking about it help?" 

His jaw flexes, “You want me to lie?" 

“I’d rather you be honest, Fushiguro.” 

A rough exhale escapes him, “I’m on the news tomorrow? ‘Know I killed one of those bastards." 

You know he doesn’t mean it—but the frustration is real, simmering beneath his skin like an untamed storm. So you tease just a little, trying to loosen the tension coiling in his shoulders—“Fussier than a baby, ‘swear." 

That gets you a glare—"Nowhere near a damn child."  

You react before he can pull away, fingers tangling in the dark strands of his hair, holding him just firm enough to ground him.

“Hey," you murmur, voice softening, “I was just pokin’, love. Yeah?" 

He stares down at you, that perpetual scrawl of his features more habit than anger now. After a beat, he nods.  

You press on, voice a gentle lull. 

“Rough days are inevitable…but there’s your favorite meal to look forward to. And cuddles from me an’ Yumi." 

His expression doesn’t change.  

"Or," you offer, tilting your head, “I could rub your ear  ‘like you like?” 

Something shifts in his gaze then—dark, heavy. He looks at you—really looks. That sweet, sultry face he’s seen crumble beneath him, twist in pleasure, pout in frustration. It all hits him at once, a wave of something possessive and hungry that makes his fingers flex against your waist.  

And in response?  

“Yeah." 

A single word. Deceptively simple.  

Because you did rub his ear, sure—but what you didn’t expect?  

Was ending up bouncing stupidly on his cock in the process.  

Now, here you are—hair a mess of copper, cinnamon, and black curls, wild like a halo around your flushed face, the flannel hanging open, barely clinging to your shoulders. The fabric dips, revealing the sinful swell of your tits, the heavy weight of them barely contained by the parted material. Your fuzzy socks—adorable, ridiculous in contrast to the filth of this moment—curl helplessly into the bedsheets as you struggle to steady yourself.  

Your thighs ache, burning from the relentless pace he’s set, but you barely feel it. Not when he’s got his hands wrapped around your waist, his fingers so big they nearly touch when he grips you—effortlessly hauling you up, then slamming you back down, forcing you to take every inch of him.  

“F—Fushiguro—!" 

You choke on his name as he pulls you all the way up, the slick length of him just about to slip free before he yanks you back down, letting his dick carve straight into your g-spot with every punishing thrust.  

And the worst part?  

He hasn’t even undressed.

Leaned back against the vintage headboard, still in his dirt-streaked wifebeater—tugged halfway up to reveal the hard planes of his abs, ink-dark tattoos trailing down the cut of his V-line. The roughness of his pubic hair grinds against your clit with every brutal snap of your hips, the friction almost too much, threatening to push you over the edge before he even lets you.  

And his face— 

Dark brows pulled low, storm gray eyes locked on you with an intensity that borders on cruel. He watches you with that same scowl, like you mean nothing to him in this moment—just a warm, trembling hole for him to use, fucking you with ruthless precision.  

He leans back, the muscles in his arms flexing as he lifts you again, dragging you down onto his cock with a sharp snap of his hips.  

“C’mon," he growls, voice rough with restraint—“Keep fuckin’ feelin’ me.”

You’re silent—trying to be—but your pussy isn’t.  

Loud. Obscene. Creaming around him in thick, slippery pulses, gushing with every brutal snap of his hips. The sound of it—wet, filthy, shameful—fills the space between your ragged breaths. Your lips stay pressed together, but your expression betrays you—eyebrows pinched, a cute little frown twisting your face as pleasure burns through you, sharp and unforgiving.  

Discomfort. Overstimulation. The kind of pleasure that hurts, that makes your toes curl and your stomach clench. Because god, the way he stretches you—thick, unrelenting, carving into you like he was made to ruin you.  

The worst part? He knows.  

Knows that in places where you’re soft, silent, observant—here, like this? You’re a mouthy little thing when he gets you there. Which is exactly why he cocks his hand back, fingers tangling in the back of your flannel, yanking you down harder on his cock before—  

SMACK. 

The sharp, stinging crack of his palm against your ass echoes through the room, your flesh jiggling from the impact, the heat of it blooming fast.  

“Ain't hearin’ shit from you," he growls. 

“C’mon. Gimme’ somethin’.”  

The rough clap of your thighs against his hips—hard, frantic, skin slapping skin—does something to you. Your eyes flutter shut, your fingers sinking into his forearms, claws digging in as a whiny little cry punches out of you.  

It’s a domino effect afterwards. A whimper slips free, trembling, desperate, and then another—another, slurring into heavier, broken whines, like you’re trying to swallow them back every time they threaten to escape. But you can’t. Not when he’s like this—when his thighs are so thick, his grip so bruising, when he makes you fuck him like he hates you.  

“There it is,” he grunts, fingers tightening around your waist, hauling you down harder, heavier. 

“‘Know my wife more than anyone in this fuckin’ world.”

You're an eye-rolling, pouting, mess. 

His mess. Your pussy keeps gushing, clenching forcefully around the thick swell of his cock, kicking off a series of unfinished, half-shattered orgasms that leave you spiraling—dizzy, overwhelmed, ruined.  

Tears brim your dark, pretty eyes, lashes sticking together as broken little whimpers spill from your lips.  

“I'm—‘M cumming.” 

But Toji? He doesn’t stop. 

His grip tightens, digging into the softness of your hips as he finds a devastating new rhythm. Slower now, but heavier. Louder. Each deep, punishing thrust drags a wet, filthy sound from where you’re stretched around him, the slap of skin echoing through the room.  

And the scent of him—god. 

Woodsmoke, leather, the erotic musk of a hard day’s work still clinging to his clothes, swallowing you whole even as he lounges beneath you, lazily using your body to chase his own pleasure.  

“Wanted me to feel better, ‘ain’t you?" 

His palm lands against your ass again—hard—the sharp crack reverberating through your bones before he spreads you open with that same rough hand, exposing your flushed, dripping cunt as he starts fucking up into you with renewed force.  

“Gonna fuck you ‘til every nut makes me less angry," he grunts, fingers biting into your flesh—“Had a hard fuckin’ day, remember?" 

You lean forward, sniffling pathetically, nodding in meek submission—like you’ve lost a game you never even meant to play.  

“Okay," you squeak, voice surrendering, small.  

His teeth flash in a wicked grin.  

“Atta fuckin’ girl." 

And then he takes—pounding up into you with a brutal pace that has you muffling trembling little moans into the crook of your arm, body jolting with every deep, claiming thrust. 

Toji slides his broad palm against the top of your head, fingers threading through your curls as he tilts your face up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. 

“You here with me?" 

You nod, and that's all he needs before he tugs you forward by your hair, sealing your mouth with his in a deep, tongue-filled kiss. It's filthy, possessive, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before he pulls back just as swiftly.  

And then—SMACK. 

His palm meets your cheek with enough force to make your breath hitch, just sharp enough to snap you back into focus. 

“Fill your fuckin' mouth up.”

You sink down instantly, taking him between your lips with breathless little whimpers, your lashes fluttering as you suck him in deep. You pull back just enough to kitten lick along his length, teasing the flushed tip before swirling your tongue around it. Then lower—sucking his heavy balls into your mouth, your fingers lightly jerking the base of him.  

It's adorable in the most pathetic way—how easily you obey when you're usually all quiet fire and defiance. But like this? You're truly his.

Toji watches as you work him over—his cock glistening with your spit, your lips stretched around him. Then he takes himself in hand, slapping his length against your flushed cheek, dragging it over your lips with a filthy, wet sound.  

“Look at you," he grunts, voice rough with satisfaction.  

And he does look—drinking in the sight of your dark, caramel skin flushed raw, your pretty eyes swollen with tears, your lips parted and trembling. It makes him crave more.  

“C'mere," he growls suddenly, gripping your waist before flipping you both in one swift motion—your back now pressed to his chest, his thighs bracketing your head as he maneuvers you into a 69. 

The second you're settled, he buries his face between your thighs with a groan, his tongue devouring you. You gasp, trying to refocus, wrapping your lips around his cock again—but it's impossible to concentrate when he's sucking on your clit like he's starved, his tongue dragging hot and wet through your folds, slurping obscenely. Your hips jerk, back arching as pleasure zings through you, your forehead dropping against his hip as you whimper around him.  

“Focus, baby.”

He mutters this against your cunt—right before his hand comes down on your ass again, the sharp SMACK making you jolt.  A broken moan slips past your lips, and then you're bobbing your head faster, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him back into your mouth with desperate, sloppy devotion.  

And Toji?  

He just feasts—grunting, licking, taking—his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks his tongue inside you, making sure you feel every second of it.  

You don’t stand a chance.

The air is thick with the sound of skin on skin, your breath ragged and wet as you lose yourself in the rhythm of him. You move without thought, drunk on the taste of him, the weight of him on your tongue—both palms wrapped tight around the base of his cock, jerking him from root to tip in slow, filthy strokes. Your tits bounce with every movement, swaying heavy and lewd as you work him over in a way that’s downright pornographic, your body moving like it was made just for this.  

Toji’s hips twitch, his breath catching when you suddenly take just the head of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the swollen tip while your small hands take care of the rest. His head knocks back against the headboard with a low groan, his voice rough, strained, as he mutters something under his breath—half curse, half praise—before his hand comes down again, another sharp SMACK landing on your ass.  

“Edge of the bed. Now.”

You crawl there on shaky knees, face pressing into the blankets, ass up—presented, waiting—and before you can even brace yourself, he’s sinking into you, stretching you open in a way that punches a muffled whine from your throat. His fingers tangle in the nape of your hair, tugging just enough to make your back arch as he yanks you back onto him, filling you to the hilt with a single brutal thrust. Your face stays buried in the blankets, lips pouting, muffling little whimpers and breathless complaints—but they’re weak, half-hearted, lost in the haze of pleasure as he starts moving, fucking into you with rough, measured strokes.  

“Fussin’ just like Yumi," he growls, voice thick as you tuck your face deeper into the sheets, hiding the way your cheeks burn. 

“Tch—feet closer to your chest.”

He rasps this, voice gravel-scraped and impatient. You whimper but obey, knees pressing tight to your body, hips lifted higher—exposed, helpless. Then, in Japanese, sharp and commanding—

“Jibun no handan de ugoite kudasai.”

Move on your own. 

And you do.  

At first, it's slow—tentative—your hips rocking back and forth in small, uncertain motions, your body arching as you try to find the right angle. The sight of you like this—spread open, trembling, taking him—is obscene. Erotic in the rawest sense.  

His fingers snap once, sharply. Another order, another growled phrase—“Head up.” 

You just obey, lifting your face from the sheets, breath ragged as you look back over your shoulder at him.  

“If you don’t move, I’ll show you how I wanna’ be fucked.” 

You pout—lips trembling, eyes wet—but then you start moving again.  

Little bounces at first, your ass clapping lightly against his hips—gentle, testing. Then deeper. Faster. More. Until you’re fully fucking yourself on him, your body taking over, driven by instinct, by the need to please. His fingers tighten in your hair, holding you in place as you pant, as you whimper—  

“…M’sorry, baby." 

It slips out without thought, weak and breathless.  

Toji only grunts, “Yeah?” 

You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for. But you say it again, lips quivering. 

“M’sorry—"

You’re squirting. 

A hot, sudden gush, spilling around him without warning, your body convulsing as pleasure rips through you. The words turn into something else—deep, shuddering sobs, your voice breaking as you keep repeating it, "M’sorry, m’sorryyy...” 

Your husband? He could care less. 

Toji fucks you through it. His grip on your hair tightens, his hips snapping up to meet yours as you sob, as you tremble, as you fall apart. 

Because this? This is how he takes his anger out.

The world narrows to nothing but the brutal snap of his hips, the sound of skin meeting skin in sharp, wet slaps. Toji yanks your legs out from under you, planting your feet flat on the floor—forcing your spine into a deep arch, your ass tilted up just right for him to sink into you even deeper, each thrust punching the air from your lungs.  

You can’t help the noises that tear out of you—loud, broken, punched out moans that rise higher with every merciless drive of his cock. His fist tightens in your hair so everlasting, wrenching your head back as he growls above you, the sound rough and satisfied—because nothing pleases him more than hearing you unravel, your voice frayed beyond coherency.  

Your fingers clutch at the sheets, knuckles white—until he tsks, a single sharp sound of disapproval that has you scrambling to correct yourself before he can fuss. Arms straight back, wrists together, like you know what he wants without him even saying it.  His free hand wraps around both your wrists in one brutal grip, pinning them against the small of your back as he drives you into the mattress, fucking you so deep you squeal, high and desperate, your body jerking beneath him.  

“Fuckkkk…!” 

It’s a shriek, really—raw and guttural, your cunt gushing around him as he pistons in and out, his grunts syncing with your cries in a filthy, primal rhythm. He’s not gentle. Not close. Every snap of his hips is punishing, claiming, his cock dragging against that sweet spot inside you until you’re keening, your thighs shaking, your mind gone beneath the sheer intensity of it.  

And then—  

His rhythm stutters.  

A deep, guttural growl rips from his throat, his fingers tightening hard in your hair as he buries himself to the hilt, spilling inside you in thick, pulsing ropes. Your sounds drown his—whimpers, choked cries, the way your body clenches around him as if trying to milk every last drop.  

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of heavy breathing—his, yours—both ragged and uneven.  

Then he slowly pulls out, leaving you limp beneath him, your lower body trembling, your nerves still alight with aftershocks.  Toji catches his breath for a beat—just one—before he leans down over you, his voice rough but soft now, murmured against your ear in Japanese.  

“Daijōbudesuka?”

You alright? 

His hand cups your throat from behind, tilting your face toward his. And then—kisses. Tiny, chaste pecks against your swollen lips, one after another, as if checking that you’re still with him.  

You let out a breathless little giggle, your lashes fluttering.  

“Mmm...legs feel numb." 

He hums. 

“They should.” 

The moment his hands twist you around, your breath catches—but it melts into another light giggle as he scoops you up effortlessly, depositing you onto the bed like something precious. The sheets are cool against your overheated skin, a stark contrast to the burning imprint of his body still lingering on yours.  

And then he looks at you. 

His fingers slide through your hair again, slower this time, almost reverent, before his mouth finds yours in a kiss that’s startlingly gentle. You nudge your nose against his, affectionate, lingering, before you pull back just enough to murmur—  

“…‘Gonna have a better day at work tomorrow?" 

Sweet. Hopeful.  

Toji rumbles, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he presses a kiss to your forehead—“Already havin’ a better day now." 

Your eyes dilate at that, lashes fluttering as you whisper—"Really?" 

“Murder’s still in question for ‘them employees, though.” 

Your face falls immediately, lips pressing into a pout as you sigh, long suffering. Before you can protest, his palm lands on your thigh—a light, teasing smack—and then he’s pushing off the bed, leaving you sprawled there. You scramble to grab his discarded flannel, draping it over yourself like a makeshift shield before flipping your hair back with an exaggerated huff.  

“You’re hardheaded!” 

“Got a hard head, baby.” 

You suck your teeth. 

But then? he reappears in the doorway, Yumi cradled in his big arms. 

The whiplash of it nearly gives you an actual headache. One second, he’s got you bent over the bed, fucking you like you owe him money, and the next? He’s holding that Persian kitten like it’s spun glass, cooing at her in a voice three octaves higher than you’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.  

You roll your eyes so hard you swear you see your own brain.  

“You don’t talk to me like that.”  

Toji ignores you, of course. Because why would he ever acknowledge the way your metaphorical tail is swishing back and forth in irritation? He’s too busy booping Yumi’s tiny pink nose, murmuring, “Momma’s the fussy one, isn’t she? Yeah?" 

“Boy, please. I don’t win the hot head award. You’re an overachiever for that score." 

He just smirks—smirks!—as he sets Yumi down on the bed, watching with that stupid, smug expression as she prances toward the headboard like the little princess she is, tail held high as she lets out a dignified Mrrow. 

One second you’re lounging there, all sass and post coital glow—the next, he’s on you, knocking you flat onto your back in the sheets with a oomph that dissolves into breathless giggles as you shove at his chest.  

“Go away!"

He doesn’t.  

“You know how much I love you?"

You tilt your head, pretending to think. 

“Not sure."

The air between you shifts—just for a heartbeat—from playful to something deeper, something heavier. His rough fingers catch yours, and he brings your hand up, pressing a slow, almost reverent kiss to the gold band on your finger. Against the metal, he murmurs something low and raw—something that sounds suspiciously like—“Mines forever." 

You sigh, but it's a warm sound, your fingers curling around his, intertwining like they were made to fit there. Playfully, you squeeze.  

“Hungry?"

He exhales through his nose, “Been thinkin' about those red beans all day."

You bat your lashes, feigning innocence. 

“I wasn't part of the meal plan?" 

His thumb drags over your pulse point as he leans in, breath hot against your ear, “You were the meal plan."  

Then, just like that, he's hauling you up—one arm under your thighs, the other bracing your back as he tosses you halfway over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You yelp, but your legs lock around his waist instinctively, arms looping his neck as he starts moving.  

“C'mon. I'm starvin'."

You press your lips to his jaw, nipping just to feel him tense—“You're starvin’, and you love me?" 

He grunts—but for him? It’s not a denial. It’s yes, a thousand times over. 

which is exactly why his alarm going off at some ungodly hour in the morning feels like a personal attack every single time.

usually, you can ignore it.

today?

absolutely not.

your eyes snap open immediately.

you groan and bury your face deeper into your pillow.

the alarm keeps going.

and going.

and going.

oh my god.

“eren,” you mumble.

nothing.

this man is dead asleep.

great.

“eren.”

still nothing.

the alarm is practically screaming and he’s sleeping through it like he’s being paid to.

eventually, he lets out a groan, finally waking up. he blindly reaches for his phone and turns the alarm off.

silence.

finally.

you sit up with a pout on your face, staring straight ahead.

you’re too tired to be angry.

but you’re definitely annoyed.

eren looks over and immediately knows he’s in trouble.

“baby, i’m so—”

“i don’t wanna hear it.”

you fold your arms.

he sighs.

“hey, don’t be like that.”

he sits up and immediately reaches for you.

you try pushing him away.

keyword:

try.

because eren is significantly bigger than you and apparently has decided that personal space is no longer a thing.

“eren.”

“i’m sorry, alright?”

he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer.

you continue resisting.

mostly for the principle of it.

he presses a kiss to your cheek.

then another.

then one near your jaw.

he’s cheating.

he knows he’s cheating.

because the second he starts kissing on you, your attitude starts disappearing.

it’s not fair.

“you gotta stop doing that shit with your alarm,” you grumble. “it wakes me up. i just wanna sleep.”

“i know.”

“every morning.”

“i know.”

“it’s rude.”

he laughs softly.

“i said i’m sorry.”

you roll your eyes.

but you let him pull you into his chest anyway.

victim.

you are a victim.

he presses a kiss to your forehead and rubs slow circles along your back.

“come here.”

he kisses you slowly, deep and lazy, tongue sliding against yours like he’s trying to taste every complaint you had.

then he lays you back down on your side, pulling your back tight against his chest. his arm wraps around your waist, holding you close.

“i’ll put you right back to sleep,” he murmurs low in your ear.

he lifts the bottom of your night dress, bunching it up around your waist. his hand slides between your legs, fingers brushing against your bare pussy.

“no panties?” he asks, clearly pleased.

“she needs to breathe too,” you reply, a little smirk in your voice.

eren chuckles softly against your neck. “yeah? she needed to breathe or she just wanted me?”

his fingers find your clit and start rubbing slow, lazy circles. you whine, pushing back into his hand.

“eren…”

“what? i’m just helping you relax, baby.”

he keeps playing with you, fingers getting wetter the longer he touches you. you’re already breathing heavier, hips moving against his hand without you even meaning to.

he finally pulls his sweats down, freeing his dick. you lift your leg higher, opening up for him. he rubs the tip against your slick folds a few times, teasing.

“stop playing,” you mumble.

“i’m not playing,” he lies, voice smug. then he pushes in, slow and deep, stretching you open inch by inch.

you let out a long whine, eyes fluttering shut.

“fuck… you always feel so good.” he groans, burying his face in the back of your neck.

he starts thrusting into you, deep and unhurried.

every stroke drags against that spot that makes your toes curl. you lean back into his chest, moaning softly with every thrust.

“eren… shit—”

“yeah? feel good?” he asks, lips brushing your ear. he picks up the pace just a little, hips snapping harder. “talk to me, baby. tell me how it feels.”

“so deep,” you moan, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “feels so fucking good…”

he groans, tightening his arm around you. one hand slides up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple while he keeps fucking you steady.

“that’s my girl. let me hear all them pretty sounds.”

your moans get louder, breathier. the room fills with the soft sound of skin meeting skin and your desperate little whimpers.

eren keeps talking in your ear, low and filthy.

“you were mad at me five minutes ago… now look at you. taking this dick so good.”

“shut up,” you whine, but there’s no heat behind it. you’re too busy grinding back on him.

he laughs softly and bites down gently on your shoulder. “no. you like it when i talk to you like this.”

he angles his hips a little differently and hits that spot even better. your eyes roll back, mouth falling open in a silent moan.

“right there— eren, right there—”

“i got you, baby.”

he keeps that same perfect rhythm, thrusting deep and consistent, one hand between your legs rubbing your clit again. the pleasure builds slow and heavy, making your thighs shake.

“i’m close,” you whimper, gripping his arm tight. “eren, i’m so close—”

“good. don’t hold it. cum on this dick, baby. let me feel you.”

he doesn’t speed up. he just keeps fucking you deep and steady, whispering sweet shit in your ear until you finally snap.

you cum hard, moaning his name all broken and shaky, pussy clenching tight around him. eren groans loud, following right after you, burying himself deep as he fills you up.

once you both come down, breathing heavy and tangled together, you let out a big yawn, eyes already drooping again.

eren laughs quietly behind you, still inside you.

“you see? told you i would put you right back to sleep.”

“hush,” you mumble, voice sleepy and satisfied.

he kisses the back of your neck softly, rubbing slow circles on your stomach. you can already feel yourself drifting off, warm and full in his arms.

you’re his whole world. like genuinely. there’s no version of his life that doesn’t include you in it, front and center. everything else just kinda… revolves around you.

so when you casually mention you wanna buy ingredients to makes cookies, he’s already nodding before you even finish your sentence.

because obviously.

whatever you want goes.

the grocery store is busy, music playing way too loud, people everywhere, and yet connie’s acting like it’s just the two of you. cart in one hand, your hand in the other, thumb rubbing slow circles.

you’re rambling about recipes, about how you wanna do chocolate chip and sugar cookies, maybe even brownies if you feel ambitious. he’s listening actually listening eyes soft, smiling like he won the lottery just standing next to you.

“okay, so—” you stop in the baking aisle, holding up two different cookie cutters. “should we get this one or this one?”

he doesn’t even look at the cutters at first. he’s just… looking at you.

and it makes you smile shyly, a little nervous, because damn, why is he staring like that in the middle of a grocery store?

“get both,” he says easily.

you blink. “you sure?”

“yeah,” he nods, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “why not?”

you laugh, tossing them into the cart, and he swears his chest feels tight just hearing that sound.

if you wanted the moon, he’d be googling how to get there already.

you guys finally finish shopping and that’s when you spot them matching pajamas. your eyes light up.

“connie, look!” you gasp, already dragging him by the arm before he can even respond. he just laughs, letting you pull him through the store. he doesn’t care what it is, as long as you’re excited and it’s with him, his heart is stupidly full.

you grab the cutest set soft, silky, matching little shorts and button-ups with tiny hearts all over them. you hold them up to his chest, grinning.

“we’re getting these. matching. no excuses.”

“whatever you want, baby,” he says

when you finally get home, you disappear into the bathroom to change first. the set feels even cuter on. you step out, doing a little twirl in the middle of the bedroom.

“how do i look?” you ask, smiling big.

connie is sitting on the edge of the bed and the second his eyes land on you… whew. his whole face changes. eyes low, dragging slow down your body, from your legs to the way the shorts hug your ass, back up to your chest, then your face. he licks his lips without even realizing it.

“damn…” he mutters, voice low. “you look so good, baby.”

he’s not lying. to him you’re the most beautiful woman in the world and right now? he’s looking at you like he can’t believe you’re real. like he wants to eat you up and cuddle you at the same time.

you feel the butterflies explode in your stomach. this man really stares at you like you’re his favorite meal every single time.

“you like it that much?” you tease, doing another little spin.

connie leans back on his hands, biting his lip as his eyes follow every move.

“i love it. c’mere,” he says, voice dropping even lower.

you already know what that look means. he’s not just admiring the pajamas… he’s thinking about how fast he can get them off you later.

and honestly? the way he’s staring at you right now… you might let him.

as you guys start baking the cookies, connie can’t keep his hands off you. not even for two seconds.

his hands are glued to your hips while you’re at the counter trying to stir the batter. he’s pressed up behind you, lips all over your neck like that’s his actual job. soft kisses at first, then slower, wetter ones that make your knees feel weak.

you’re gripping the spoon tighter, trying so hard to focus. “connie…” you giggle, breath already shaky. “stop, we’re supposed to be baking.”

he hums against your skin, not moving an inch. “mm, i know baby,” he murmurs, voice low and sweet, “but you look so good right now. i can’t help it.”

mind you this man is supposed to be helping. he’s supposed to be measuring shit or cracking eggs or something. instead he’s kissing all up on your neck, hands sliding around your waist, pulling you back against him every time you try to stir.

you’re forgetting what you’re even doing. the batter? what batter. all you can feel is his mouth and the way he’s looking at you like you’re sweeter than anything you’re about to put in the oven.

“connie, i swear—” you laugh, trying to elbow him gently, but it’s useless. he just chuckles and turns you around in his arms, eyes low and full of that lovesick look he always gives you.

“what? i’m helping,” he lies, grinning before leaning in to kiss you properly.

you already know baking these cookies is about to take three times longer than it should. but with the way he’s staring at you… hands still gripping your hips… you’re not even mad.

this man really loves his girlfriend. and right now? he loves her in an apron even more.

you guys finally finish with the cookies. they’re finally in the oven after way too much kissing and not nearly enough actual baking. you now have fresh hickeys all over your neck because connie literally cannot keep his lips to himself.

you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, turning your head side to side with a shocked expression.

“seriously, con?” you whine, touching the marks. “you know i have work! and now i got hickeys all over my damn neck.”

connie appears behind you in the mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. he doesn’t even look sorry. he just leans in and kisses the side of your neck, right on top of one of the marks he left.

“sorry baby,” he murmurs against your skin, voice all sweet and low. “i’ll make it up to you, aight? i promise.”

he thinks kissing you is gonna fix everything. and the crazy part? it kinda does. you’re still mad… but melting at the same time.

you glare at him through the mirror. “you gotta stop playing with me. i can’t be showing up to work looking like i got attacked.”

he chuckles and kisses your neck again, slower this time, like he’s proud of his work. “you look good though. real good.”

“connie.”

“what? i’m just saying,” he grins, eyes low as he stares at you in the mirror. “my girlfriend too fine to not get kissed on.”

you sigh, trying to look annoyed but your stupid heart is doing flips. he’s lucky you love his ass.

remember the cookies you were supposed to be making? yeah… those are long forgotten.

because right now connie has you spread out on the couch like his personal feast. your legs are thrown over his shoulders, thighs trembling as he kneels between them. he’s taking his sweet time, and this man is straight up worshipping your pussy.

he starts with slow, messy kisses all over your inner thighs, sucking gently on the soft skin before dragging his tongue up to your folds.

when he finally reaches your clit, he moans like he just tasted heaven.

“fuck… look at her,” he whispers, voice thick with lust. “so pretty and wet for me already.”

then his mouth is on you. warm. sloppy. devoted. he licks long, slow stripes up your pussy, savoring every drop like he’s got all night. his tongue circles your clit before he wraps his lips around it and sucks gently, then harder, then soft again switching it up just to drive you crazy.

you’re already whimpering, hips twitching.

“connie…” you breathe, trying to grind against his face, but he grips your thighs and holds you still.

“nah, baby. let me eat this pussy right,” he murmurs against your slick folds. “you deserve it.”

he pushes his tongue inside you, fucking you with it slow and deep while his nose rubs against your clit. the wet sounds are filthy loud slurping mixed with his low groans. he’s lost in it, eyes closed, face buried so deep you’re not sure he can even breathe. and he doesn’t care.

your hand flies to his hair, gripping tight as your moans get louder.

he slides two thick fingers into you without warning, curling them perfectly against that spongy spot while his mouth focuses back on your swollen clit. sucking. licking. humming. the vibrations make your eyes roll back.

“oh my god— connie, baby— fuck…”

you’re grinding on his face now, chasing the pleasure, and he lets you. he moans louder into your pussy, encouraging you, sucking harder like he wants you to use him. his fingers thrust deeper, steady and nasty, making wet squelching sounds every time he pushes back in.

tears are already forming in your eyes. it feels too good. your thighs won’t stop shaking.

“i can’t— it’s too much—” you sob, voice cracking.

but connie doesn’t stop. if anything, he gets more greedy. he pulls his fingers out for a second just to spread your pussy open with both hands and spit on it before diving back in, tongue flicking fast on your clit while he slides two three fingers inside this time.

your back arches clean off the couch.

“connie—! fuck— i’m— oh shit—”

you’re crying now. actual tears sliding down your cheeks because the pleasure is overwhelming. he’s sucking your clit so good, fingers stroking that spot over and over, and you feel like you’re about to explode.

“that’s it, baby,” he groans into your pussy, voice muffled and nasty.

your whole body locks up. the orgasm crashes into you hard, making you sob and shake uncontrollably. you’re creaming all over his fingers, gushing on his tongue while he keeps eating you through it, licking up every drop like he’s starving. he doesn’t pull away. he stays right there, sucking softly, fingers still moving slow until you’re twitching and whimpering, completely ruined.

when he finally lifts his head, his face is soaked — lips shiny, chin dripping, eyes dark and drunk off you.

you’re still sobbing softly, chest heaving, legs shaking around his head. he kisses your throbbing pussy one last time, gentle and reverent, then rests his cheek on your thigh, looking up at you with pure adoration.

“you okay, baby?” he asks, voice low and soft, even while his face is covered in your mess.

you can’t even speak. you just nod weakly, tears still slipping out the corners of your eyes.

connie smiles, proud and lovesick, and presses another soft kiss to your clit.

“good. ‘cause i’m nowhere near done with you.”

you sit up, push him gently in the chest until he drops back onto the couch. without saying a word you reach for his pajama pants, yanking them down. his dick springs out, hard and heavy, already leaking at the tip. you wrap your hand around him, stroking slow and tight, watching the way his abs flex and his mouth falls open.

“fuck, baby…” he groans, head falling back for a second.

you turn around, back facing him, and line him up with your soaked pussy. you sink down slowly, inch by inch, moaning loud as he stretches you open. the angle is so deep it makes your toes curl immediately.

“shit— that’s it,” connie breathes, hands gripping your waist tight. “take all this dick, baby. look at you… creaming on me already.”

you start bouncing, slow at first, then faster, throwing your ass back on him. the sound of skin slapping fills the room — wet, nasty, loud. every time you drop down, he fills you completely, hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back.

“connie— fuck—” you whine, hands planted on his thighs for leverage as you ride him harder.

he smacks your ass hard, groaning deep in his chest. “goddamn, you feel so good. this pussy so wet and tight for me… keep bouncing just like that, ma. fuck me back.”

you’re creaming all over his dick, dripping down his balls with every bounce. your eyes keep rolling, mouth hanging open, moans getting louder and sluttier. connie’s hands are everywhere gripping your hips, smacking your ass, then sliding up to wrap around your throat from behind.

he pulls you back against his chest, choking you just right while you keep riding him. his lips are right by your ear, voice low and raspy.

“you riding this dick so good, baby. my perfect girl”

the choking mixed with the praise has your head spinning. you’re grinding and bouncing faster, pussy squeezing him tight. connie’s groaning in your ear, hips thrusting up to meet you, making it even deeper.

but then he suddenly lifts you off him. you barely have time to whine at the emptiness before he lays you on your back and folds you clean in half. knees pushed all the way to your chest in a tight mating press. he slides back inside you in one smooth, deep stroke.

“oh my god—” you cry out.

connie doesn’t waste time. he starts thrusting hard, deep, and nasty. the position lets him hit so deep it feels like he’s in your stomach. every stroke is long and powerful, his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

“this what you needed, huh?” he groans, staring down at you with dark, loving eyes. one hand wraps around your throat again, squeezing while he kisses you filthy — tongue and all. “my baby likes when i fold her up and fuck her stupid?”

you’re sobbing and moaning into his mouth, completely overwhelmed. the pleasure is insane. he’s pounding into you so good your pussy is making the wettest sounds you’ve ever heard. he keeps praising you between kisses, voice rough:

“you’re so fucking pretty when you take this dick… that’s my good girl. let me feel you squirt on me, baby. i know you can.”

his strokes get faster, deeper, more aggressive. the hand around your throat tightens just enough to make your eyes flutter. you’re creaming so much it’s dripping everywhere, soaking the couch.

“connie—! i’m— fuck— i’m gonna—”

“do it,” he growls, kissing you again, biting your lip. “cum on this dick. squirt for me, baby. let it all go.”

it hits you like a wave. your whole body locks up then explodes — you squirt hard all over his dick and stomach, soaking him while you moan his name. your pussy clenches and pulses around him like crazy.

connie groans loud, hips stuttering. “that’s it— fuck, i’m cumming too—”

he buries himself deep and cums with you, groaning into your mouth as he fills you up. thick, hot spurts painting your walls while your pussy keeps milking him.

both of you shaking, moaning, riding it out together until you’re both spent and trembling.

he stays inside you for a long moment, forehead pressed against yours, breathing hard. then he kisses you soft and slow, thumb gently rubbing your throat where he choked you.

“i love you so fucking much,” he whispers against your lips, still buried deep. “best pussy in the world… my pretty girl.”

you’re completely fucked out, legs still folded, body twitching with aftershocks… and this man is looking at you like he’s ready to go again.

connie leans in, forehead still pressed to yours, and kisses you deep and slow. you melt into it, hands cupping his face, tasting yourself on his tongue while he’s still buried inside you.

then—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

the fire alarm starts screaming through the whole apartment.

you both freeze mid-kiss. eyes wide open. lips still touching.

“…the cookies,” you whisper against his mouth.

connie pulls back just enough to look at you, face blank for a second before reality hits.

“shit.”

you stare at each other like two kids who just got caught. him still balls deep, you folded like a pretzel, pussy still twitching around him… and the damn cookies are burning to a crisp in the oven.

a beat of silence.

then you both start laughing. loud. breathless. stupid.

“i knew we should’ve took them out,” you groan, covering your face while still giggling.

connie just shakes his head, smirking as he finally pulls out of you. “my bad, baby.”

he gives your thigh a little smack and stands up as you both rush (naked and messy) toward the kitchen like it’s a national emergency.

the cookies? completely burnt. smoke everywhere.

and with the way he was fucking you, he might as well have been. 

"don’t gotta lie to me," eren grunts, his voice a low vibration against the shell of your ear. he revels in the sweet way you react to his every whim, savoring the shaky wave of your breath hitching when he stretches you wide open on his cock, thick and throbbing with need. god, it missed you. he missed you. 

"you won't take me back? hmm, baby?” his hips roll forward in that precise way that always brushes your clit enough to make your body jolt. he smiles to himself when you do, runs his tongue over the peak of his canine. “nooo, erennn— n-no . . nghhh!” “never? really? c’mon, princess . . . hurtin’ my feelings. don’t you love me?" he drives in hard, punishingly deep, until you can only gasp out broken pleas. he knows you well enough to understand you need it faster. your head sinks into the bamboo fluff of your pillow, eyes fluttering shut as his perfect, perfect name finally breaks past your lips, and you gnaw on the bottom one as though you’ve betrayed yourself by saying it. a dark, triumphant look crosses his face once you yield.

he thinks it's time you accepted it — the two of you are inevitable. and looking at the state of you, it’s hard to tell him he’s wrong. 

"fuck. you’re takin’ me so well, baby. juuust like you used to. i’ve fucked you up for anyone else, haven’t I? no wonder you came running back to me . . . i’m the only one you want. no other man can make you feel like this, can they?” 

you couldn’t argue, couldn't even find the words. all you could manage to do was cling to him, breathing in that familiar scent of amber and pine, letting the solid strength in his arms and the searing heat of his body consume you; biting your lip at the way he handles you with just the right amount of rough, consuming, and raw. 

fuck your life. fuck your ex. he’s settled back into the spaces he once occupied, and it only took cumming on him — all at the coaxing nudge of his low voice telling you to let go — for you to realize his presence was something you couldn't stand to lose again. 

© 𝒫𝐼𝑁𝐾ℳ𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐻.ᐟ ⸻ all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. reblogs are highly appreciated! please and thank you! ❤︎

your mouths crashed together greedily, tongues sliding, and lips sucking. eren groaned into the kiss, both hands sliding under your short dress to grab your ass and yank you down hard against his bulge.

“fuck, i needed this,” he muttered against your mouth, biting your bottom lip before kissing you deeper, tongue fucking into your mouth like he couldn’t get enough. you started grinding on him right away, rolling your hips so your soaked panties dragged along his thick cock through his slacks.

you moaned into the kiss, tongues tangling messily as you rocked faster. the starlight ceiling twinkled above you while the amber lights cast a golden hue over your skin. eren’s grip on your ass tightened, guiding you, pulling you down harder with every roll.

“yeah… just like that,” he rasped between heavy kisses, breathing hard against your lips. “grind on me, baby. you’re already fucking dripping through your panties.”

the little pink ribbons on your dress slipped loose, fabric falling lower on your chest as you kept humping his lap. the kiss turned sloppy and desperate as wet sounds filled the quiet cabin, your soft whimpers mixing with his low groans.

“ren–” you gasped when he pulled back for a breath, but he just dragged you back in, kissing you even harder, tongue deep in your mouth.

“don’t stop,” he growled against your lips. “keep kissing me while you ride my dick like that. want to feel you cum with your tongue in my mouth.”

you whimpered and obeyed, grinding faster, clit rubbing perfectly against his hard length with every desperate roll. the pressure built quick and brutal. your thighs started shaking around his hips.

eren fisted one hand in your hair, the other squeezing your ass as he thrust up to meet you. “that’s it… fuck, you’re gonna make a mess all over me.”

your orgasm slammed into you as a broken moan poured straight into his mouth as your pussy clenched hard, gushing slick all over your panties and the front of his slacks. your whole body shook violently in his lap, hips stuttering and grinding through every intense wave while eren kept kissing you through it. swallowing every cry and whimper as he forced you to keep moving against him.

only when you started to go limp and whimpering did he ease up, turning the kiss slower and lazier, tongues still stroking as he held you tight against his chest.

“shit…” he breathed against your swollen lips, still kissing you softly. “good girl. came so fucking hard just from grinding on me.”

you panted into his mouth, still twitching, the wet spot between you warm and obvious against his black slacks. eren smirked against your lips, green eyes gleaming in the amber light.

“catch your breath,” he murmured, voice low and filthy. “we’ve still got time before we land… and i want you doing that shit again.”

it’s his pet names that linger instead— sounding all soft and familiar, worn warm from use. the ones he returns to without thinking, like second nature. schatzi. simply sweet. ever so precious. the word curls from his mouth with an ease that feels almost absentminded, yet never careless. and liebling, his favorite, his darling. it’s usually spoken quieter, closer, like it belongs to you and him alone.

those are the few words you come to know. not by translation, but how they’re given. by the way his voice lowers around them, the way they brush against your skin like something tangible.

mixed by blood, eren's heritage lives in the small details about him more than anything else; his cadence, his features, his mannerisms. he doesn't necessarily talk about it. his tongues, german and turkish, live elsewhere. like in fleeting moments on the phone with his family, voice softened with a familiarity different from the kind he shows you.

it's admirable, how effortlessly he slips into the rhythm of home when catching up with his mother and father. you hear it only then, in fragments and tones, something distant. you try to glimpse into that part of him, but he leaves it unshared. 

it isn't that your boyfriend withholds any aspects of his life, or his culture, from you. rather, he lets untranslatable words fall as they come, shaped more by his feeling than intentionality. there's a certain intimacy in that. he thinks that you don't have to understand every syllable to feel the weight of it.

because with him, it's about how it lingers in the space between you long after the words have fallen away.

you know eren doesn’t make much use of deutsch in his everyday life, no. it remains tucked away as the one thing he doesn't reach for, but something that exists all the same. and maybe, that's what makes it all the more enticing, when it surfaces in the moments his control finally begins to slip.

it’s in those instances, when his breath grows uneven and composure frays at the edges, that something from deep within him begins to rise unbidden. words he doesn't consciously choose, tones he typically wouldn't shape, leaving him in a low, broken lilt. there's nothing intentional about it, just the rawness of instinct when the sensation is so overwhelming that he can't help himself any longer.

and in that unraveling, there's something disarmingly sensual. not just the act itself, or the hot slide of his hands when he touches you, but a side of him that can't be hidden away, revealed only when he's too far gone to hold it back.

"scheisse!"

it slips out of him without warning. his mind’s so muddled by the way your dewy walls squeeze his cock that he doesn’t even think to translate. he’s drawn fully into the hilt of your gushing pussy, his presence heavy both in-and-outside of you. he's got you splayed out on your back, displayed ever so beautifully, soft textured hair fanning out on the pillows, like that of a halo. how fitting, for his precious angel. 

eren has you tucked under the breadth of him and slovenly folded into missionary, your body immovably pressed beneath the heat and heaviness of his imposing frame. his attention narrows on you, you, you, until nothing else seems to exist outside of it.

your trembling leg is held in his left palm, secured at the pit of your knee as he guides it up against your shoulder as a means to fucks deeper into you. his other hand rests hot upon your waist, grip tightening whenever you react, kneading at warm brown flesh whenever you clamp down on him. he's unrelenting with how he draws out, plows in, does it again, again, again. dense clapping resounds in hollow echoes throughout the dim-lit bedroom of his paradis-city penthouse.

"e—ren! eren, erennn,” his name falls fractured from your lips, each syllable hitching as it leaves you. he hears it, and something in him shifts. a slow, unmistakable reaction that pulls at the corner of his mouth before it fully settles into a smile. it spreads wide, brazen and sharp in a way that looks as feral as he feels; all teeth, cutting sharp and boyish across his face, features drawn tight with ardor.

pleasure has already taken hold of him; face flushed, sweat gathering and rolling in narrow paths down his skin. his dark manbun sits slightly undone at the base of his head, loose strands slipping free to cling to his temples and the nape of his neck, his tattooed body damp with the same heat that coats him. his brows, thick and dark, knit tightly together, while his bright-teal eyes stay intense and wild, fixed on you with a look that doesn’t waver. you’re his maker and weakness alike, the only thing holding his focus together as he unravels for you.

"komm schon, engel," eren dips low, his large frame folding over yours, shoulders rounding as he closes the space between you, brushing the plush of your lips with his own. "hngh, wha—?" you whine against his mouth, needing of clarity. his breath is warm and close when he murmurs, earnest for a taste of your lips, "küss mich."

you don’t fully comprehend him, but eren closes the gap regardless, until there’s nowhere left for your voice to go but into him. his large hand lifts up, cups your jaw nice and steady, tilts you upwards just enough to meet him as he presses his lips to yours. firm at first, then deeper, more claiming than it is gentle. when he pulls back, it’s only by a breath’s width, enough for the curve of his smile to linger against your mouth. 

his hips take to a slow roll, grinding into yours so sweetly. the rounded end of his hard cock nudges the inner pudge of your softest spots, with the lean ridge of his pelvis brushing over the sensitive peak of your clit. the both of you hold no inhibitions, breaths pouring into each other's mouths in uneven waves, panting and moaning with not a sound refrained.

him and you, you and him, him in you. all sense becomes lost in a heated slew of sloppy strokes and the wettest kisses. he's making such a mess of you; stealing your breath, bruising your flesh, fucking stirring your insides.

for eren, countless sensations begin to merge. your velveteen walls are clamping down, tight, on his pulsing dick, dripping and sobbing all over the length of it. then there's the way you cling to him, just ferocious. the powder-white arch of your fresh nails do well at drawing fiery marks down the broad plane of his tatted back. his olive skin is warm and damp under your palms, glowing sheen with a film of sweat. 

your breath brushes against the reddening shell of his pierced ear, sounds uneven and soft in a way that makes him grow impossibly harder. eren responds in kind, groans amplified, his hold at your waist tightening just enough to keep you anchored to the you-shaped dip in his king sized mattress. you're so pretty, so perfect; behaving so well that all he wants to do is just give you more. 

so he does. 

"shh, lass mich einfach . . stillhalten." eren’s hands span down your shaking thighs, dancing around around your calf until they close around both of your ankles. his fingers wrap fully, thumbs rubbing circles while the rest of his grip adjusts you without effort. he translates what he knows you didn't catch, "don't move." 

eren shapes the physical space between you, and he continues to bend you at angles until the right silhouette is captured. he brings your knees toward your shoulders, folding the form until thighs press firmly against the core of your tummy. shifting his weight low, he transitions into a deep squat, strong thighs flexed as he assumes the position of sitting on his haunches, all without pulling out of you.

with the new vantage, he drives forward and plunges into the tightness of you with sudden, intense momentum that draws the sharpest, most involuntary cry from your lungs— a sound that brings a knowing smile to his face. eren frees self-satisfied laughter, for he always manages to pry out the very reaction he sought to provoke. he finds your body familiar. so easy to mold, too easy to play with.

"ffuuuck! p-please, papaaa, please—"

his response comes rippling out as an unintended growl, sourced from the depths of his chest, and the bass of it makes you clench helplessly around him. with every surge, every thrust forward, he loses another piece of his restraint. an especially taut squeeze of your soaked pussy is all it takes for his snark to dissolve into total surrender.

"fuck . . du bist so eng," his words grow reckless to match just how you undo him. he rambles on about just how tight you are, freeing terribly desperate praise and german incoherencies. he's too far gone to realize he'd even switched languages. frankly, eren doesn't even know what he's saying anymore, and you sure as hell don’t either. it’s hard to follow when he’s digging you out like that; hips slamming down, the fat of his balls clapping against the seam of your ass with every thrust.

more foreign words tumble from his lips— dark, guttural, yet somehow melodic, leaving you in a haze of both lust and confusion. despite it, your body understands the intent perfectly. the way you arch into him, cunt swallowing every known inch of his dick whole, slick walls clamping around him like a desperate vice, tells him everything he needs to know. 

eren finally seems to be returning to himself, eyes clearing as he grows aware; and with that, comes the teasing. another predatory smirk pulls at his mouth as he realizes just how cockdrunk he’s made you, sensitive even down to the veins that drag within you. and so, he draws out the friction, slows his pace to an agonizing crawl, buries himself into you with impossible depth.

each heavy thrust knocks at your cervix and prods at the very limit of you, blunt and demanding, as if he’s trying to leave his mark on your very soul. he's so all-consuming that the heady scent of his skin and the licking heat of his salt-slicked body fills your lungs. you’re crying, you think, unsure as to when it started. all you know is you’re breathing him in, tasting the raw, primal edge of him with every gasp and tear you choke on. 

"aww, poor baby,” he croons, tone darkened with condescend, “macht dich das an, schatzi?" he murmurs, the grunted slew of german humming against your skin. he’s asking if it turns you on— the suddenly rough shift into his mother tongue, and though the meaning of his words escape your mind, you can only nod helplessly, teeth sinking into the swell of your spit-streaked lip as a flush burns across your chest.

"feels good, yeah? i'm fucking you so deep, aren't i? mm, c'mon, angel . . . talk to me, talk to daddy." he eases more of his weight onto your pressed frame, feeding you deep, languid strokes so slow you can hear the wetness sloshing.

"yeahhh, it's good, er-en . . hnn, feelssogood, d-daddyyy," his name tears out of you in a pulled shudder, the syllables breaking over one another. it’s the type of sound that invites his wolfish grin, curled with a special kind of satisfaction. his smile is purely predatory when he gets to hitching your leg up higher, rocking into you faster. the lewdness of unfiltered noise begins to swell throughout the room.

before long, you're both trembling over the pace he’s taken; his fingers twitching along your pushed-up thighs, while you're left grappling for purchase along his bulging, corded biceps, your fingers digging into the sinuous centipede inked across his firm rounded muscle. frantically, you cling to one another as the world outside seems to fade away.

eren leans in, ink-dark strands escaping his hairtie, feathering your neck, and cascading over his shoulder to curtain your faces. overzealous, he captures your lips with his own once more, silencing your soft sounds with a deep kiss that tastes as saccharine as love itself, wettened by the salted twinge of adrenaline. his moans tumble out of him helplessly once you get to licking at his tongue. he juts it out for you to suckle on.

the tension brews to a fever pitch. you’re close, and so is he.

"komm und hol mich," he wants—no, needs you to cum for him, pleads in breathless sounds so gritty that you can feel them pass through your bones. those bright-teal eyes, glassed over with brimming tears of pleasure, desperately lock onto yours. his touch is just as urgent.

eren brings the calloused pad of his thumb to your clit, each deliberate rub a targeted press that sends fresh jolts of heat spiraling through your tummy, makes your hips buck up into the onslaught. his breath comes out in ragged puffs as his fleshy, kiss-bruised lips meet your ear, grazing the shell, words unfamiliar yet sweet all the same. “komm auf meinen schwanz, bitte.” the vulnerable rawness of his voice is a love language all in its own. something in you knows to follow his command, even if the meaning is a mystery. 

that building pressure low in your gut begins to coil, tightening into a concentrated knot that demands release. it’s a heavy, mercurial ache that pulses in sync with his movements, making your vision swim as you reach the precipice. your every nerve-ending screams for the sweet, sweet release that only his next deliberate strike can provide.

as for eren, his focus is simply fractured; hands moving with a restlessness that betrays how close he is to the edge. he lifts his free hand to knead and possess the soft weight of your right breast, his grip firm and demanding, before his fingers lift to heedlessly lace around your neck, as a means to keep you pinned in the middle of the storm of his movements. 

that same grasp trails away from pressing your artery, slinks down, and squeezes a big, greedy handful of ass into one palm alone. he delivers one smack— two, three. the fourth leaves red in its wake, blooming faint along warm-brown flesh. he merely smiles when you mewl at him. 

the combination he grants you is far too much, too fucking frantic; the stinging heat of his palm against your skin and the possessive weight of his hand at your throat leaves you feeling hazy and unmoored, your thoughts dissolving into a thoughtless, honeyed fog.

a few more of those slowed, plunging thrusts, paired with how nicely he toys with your puffy clit, is what finally shatters the dam and sends rolling waves of your orgasm to crash right through you. it washes over, heavy and thick, the feeling purely electric as it zips through the base of your spine all the way down to your tightly curled toes. your quivering legs lock around his lean waist as he fucks you through the height of it, dark-chestnut hair swinging over hunched shoulders.

"don't you let go yet— m'not done." eren rasps against your agape lips, voice a broken wreck. he taps your soft cheek in two firm pats when your eyes begin to flutter shut, peers at you through hooded eyes, forcing bitten words out through grit teeth, "look at me, schatzi," his fingers tangle into the soft, dense curls of your hair to tilt your head his way. "you came so fuckin' hard, tell me you felt that—shit! mm, p-please, baby . . tell me you’re mine."

you manage to open your mouth, try for an answer, but every brutal impact of his hips knocks the air from your chest, splintering your voice into meaningless little sounds. the rhythm of his pounding, loud and heavy, turns shaky and imprecise as he utterly loses the battle for control. you can see the strain in the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, his breath hitching as he teeters on the edge. 

eren frames your face with a sudden tenderness, his large hands encompassing either side of your head as if you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth itself. he pulls you in until your foreheads touch, eyes locking in a feral, heavy-lidded stare that teases at his release. you babble out his name with every sloppy knock of his hips.

your inner walls clamp down in a steady, involuntary pulse around him, and the friction becomes too much for him to bear. then comes a guttural sound, ripping straight from his chest, followed by a smaller, vulnerable whimper that echoes out, almost like a plea:

"scheisse, ich komme— fffuuuck!"

he jolts forward with an almost animalistic force, burying himself to the very hilt as the first warm, heavy spurts of his release spill free from his cockhead and into your awaiting womb. you feel him throbbing deep within your silken walls, the pulsing erratic as he stuffs your cunt with thick loads of his cum; emptying himself, filling you.

a hushed stillness sets over eren's thirtieth-floor apartment. all movement drifts to a weighty pause; until, eren eventually collapses his full weight onto you with a long, shuddering sigh. the solid, unyielding mass of him drives a soft huff out from your throat, pinning you into the charcoal sheets in a way that feels strangely grounding.

his inked forearms bind around you like vines, pulling your bodies flush-tight until there’s no room left between you. in turn, you drape your arms over the broad expanse of his back, your thumbs tracing soothing circles over the angry, reddened lines of the skin you tore. 

"ugh— rennie, you're heavy."

"mmn." is his heedless response. you both lie there in a tangled, breathless heap of afterglow, your lungs working for shallow air as the adrenaline begins to recede. after threading through the dark, damp silk of his long hair, weaving and undoing braids in the same sitting, your arms finally loosen their hold around his nape. eren nuzzles his face into the soft swell of your breasts, the tip of his nose grazing the sensitive bone of your sternum as he seeks out your warmth.

a small, balmy laugh escapes you, the sound light and surreal against the dense, syrup-thick atmosphere. the air is heavy, saturated with the salt-sharp scent of skin, the musk of his cologne, the lingering sugar of your arab perfume, and the sweet, pungent tang of your collective release— a sensory memento of every orgasm you just shared.

"damn . .” the silence breaks around his voice, low and winded, “didn't think y’had a kink for that."

"hmm," you blink slow, the wisps of your curled lashes fluttering. "for what?"

"uh-uh, don't play dumb now," eren noses your jugular, tickling your neck with a nudge so fleeting you can’t help but break, a shy giggle bubbling up and out into the open. "could've just told me you wanted me to switch languages, princess."

“i didn't even know it was something i’d enjoy that much," you bite down on a drowsy laugh, manicured fingers lifting to idly twirl a stray, dark lock of his hair. you’re secretly glad his hair-tie snapped under the pressure.

"i like the way your brain just . . . shorts out when you hear it. makes you so . . ." a kiss, breaking the pattern of speech, is pressed to your upturned lips, so pink and soft.

“—much more," another, then a suckle to your jaw, "—responsive." there's a gravel-like texture to the sound of his teasing. "i don't think i've ever heard you get that loud before, baby.” eren hums aloud onto your skin, a low rumble of pure satisfaction that thrums low in his throat and vibrates against your chest.

he shifts his weight just enough to pepper wet, uncoordinated kisses along the sensitive expanse of your throat, his every movement sluggish with pleasure. 

“verdammt gut,” he murmurs against your skin, testing the effect he has over you, simply wishing to witness how tightly you’d pulse around him in response. sure enough, he smiles to himself when you do, walls clamping down where he remains stuffed inside you. a whispered moan falls from you, eyes screwed impossibly tight. 

his lips latch to your pulse as he mouths praises you don’t need to translate to understand. the meaning sounds as sweet as his kisses taste. “du bist so gut, liebling.” even though his brain's misted over with lust, and his dick is still warmly nestled deep inside you, he can’t help but nip playful marks into your flesh. you find yourself cooing at his affections, your fingers tangling in the deep-brown spill of his hair as you shallowly rock your hips onto his softening cock. 

he mumbles more foreign little nothings into the damp, sweat-slicked crook of your neck, the tone so tender it feels like a physical caress. 

“ich liebe dich so sehr, angel . . .” he breathes, the confession soft and embracing against your skin. it’s meaning is devotional, so unmistakable; he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. 

the ardency of the past hour's lovemaking seems to evaporate, leaving only the two of you sinking in the cooling sheets. from the crevice of your chest to his broadened one, your hearts beat heavy against one another in a synced tempo.

with one last, lingering kiss to your collarbone, eren lets his heavy eyelids fall shut. the silence that follows isn't empty. instead, it’s full and warm, smelling of salt, sandalwood, and the raw fragrancy of his adoration.

the darkness of the room feels like a protective veil. in the stillness, with his warmth still grounding you and his scent filling your lungs, you finally let your own eyes close, drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep cradled in the arms of the man who loves you more than he has the words to say.

© 𝒫𝐼𝑁𝐾ℳ𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐻.ᐟ ⸻ all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. reblogs are highly appreciated! please and thank you! ❤︎

eren flicks the cigarette over the balcony and disappears back inside. it takes him less than three minutes to change before you hear the glass door slide open and the soft pad of bare feet on warm stone.

when you look up again, he's walking toward you in black swim trunks hanging low on his hips, chest bare, and hair still in that messy bun. a crystal tumbler dangles from his fingers— something amber, probably whiskey, because he never drinks anything fruity unless you beg him to share yours.

in his other hand: a bottle of sunscreen. you giggle while pressing your cheek back into your folded arms. "you're so predictable."

"am i?" he asks as he sets the tumbler down on the table next to your lemon drop and crouches beside the lounge chair. the bottle clicks open as cool lotion drips onto your shoulder blades and you shiver. "i just don't want you to burn."

"uh-huh…whatever you say."

his hands land on your shoulders and he starts working the sunscreen into your skin. his palms glide down your spine, over your ribs, and his thumbs press into the small of your back as you melt into the cushion with a soft sigh.

he leans down, lips brushing your ear. "you left your top untied."

"did i?"

"you did." his hands slide lower, palms curving over the swell of your ass, thumbs dragging along the edge of your bikini bottoms. "careless girl."

you hum while arching your back just enough to press into his touch. "that's why i have you, smart man. to take care of me."

he squeezes both of your cheeks firmly and you feel him smile against your shoulder. "yeah," he murmurs, voice low and thick like the whiskey in his glass. "that's why you have me."

you feel his fingers find the loose strings of your bikini top before you even realize what he's doing as he gathers the strings, tying them carefully into a small bow between your shoulders.

his hands linger a moment longer than necessary as they smooths down your spine, tracing the dip of your waist. then he straightens and you hear the soft swish of liquid against glass as he picks up whatever liquor he brought down with him.

"jacuzzi," he says and you know it's not a question.

you push yourself up on your elbows while twisting to look at him over your shoulder as he's already walking toward the bubbling water.

"coming, baby?" he doesn't turn around but you can hear the smirk in his voice.

you scramble off the lounge chair quickly, nearly tripping over your own feet, and he chuckles as you pad barefoot across the warm stone to join him.

the jacuzzi bubbles softly in the corner of the pool area, steam curling up into the evening air. you climb in first, the hot water lapping at your thighs as you fix your hair clip, not wanting to mess up your freshly done hair. eren sets his glass down on the edge and steps in after you, water sloshing gently as he settles onto the submerged bench seat.

you don't hesitate as you climb right into his lap, knees pressing into the bench on either side of his hips, straddling him like you belong there. his hands find your waist immediately as his thumbs stroke lazy circles against your wet skin just above the hem of your bikini bottoms.

now you're nose to nose with him, his damp hair half fallen from the bun, loose strands sticking to his temple and his jaw. a few pieces cling to the column of his throat and you push them away gently just for an excuse to touch him.

"how was your day?" you ask softly, acrylics dragging down his chest.

he snorts. "you mean before or after i watched you tanning half naked in my backyard?"

"both." you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "tell me everything."

eren's hands slide up your back to pull you closer until your chests are pressed together. his skin is cool despite the warm water and you can feel his steady heartbeat against your chest. he's always so calm and controlled as his fingers dig into your waist lightly.

"dealt with a client who didn't know the difference between ram and storage," he murmurs against your temple. "had to explain it three times."

you kiss his cheeks as you watch his lashes flutter over them. "poor baby."

"then i had to call my accountant because someone-" he says as he pinches your side lightly, "spent five hundred dollars on bathing suits last week."

"that was for the bahamas and now, cabo!" you protest while grinning. "you said pack cute things."

"i said pack a suitcase, not bankrupt me."

you laugh and kiss his nose, then his jaw, then the spot just below his ear that makes his breath hitch. he lets you because he loves the way you spoil him with affection. his hands roam your back, tracing your spine, the dip of your waist, and the swell of your hips above the waterline.

and as you pepper his face with kisses, eren finds himself thinking how different this is and how different you are.

the babies before you were a little older and poised. they faked their laughs and forced their touches like affection was a transaction with them. they would've never climbed into his lap in broad daylight or kiss him in a jacuzzi like no one was watching.

but it’s also the way you kissed him breathless on that balcony in the bahamas with the ocean below and the way you giggled when he bent you over the railing, moaning loud enough for the whole resort to hear.

no one had ever been like that with him. no one had ever been so unafraid to want him but he doesn't say any of that out loud. he just pulls you tighter against his chest, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.

"cabo's gonna be good," you say between kisses, pulling back just enough to look at him. his green eyes soft in a way he'd never admit to. "right?"

"yeah." his thumb traces your bottom lip. "fly out the morning of your birthday. private villa with a beachfront. and that backless dress you like, i wanna see you in it."

"you're so good to me."

"i know."

you smack his chest lightly and he catches your wrist, pressing a kiss to your palm. his rings are cold against your skin, a stark contrast to the warm water and the heat building between your bodies.

"you're different, you know that?" he says quietly, almost like he didn't mean to say it out loud.

you tilt your head. "different how?"

eren just shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "just different."

he doesn't elaborate but instead, his hands slide down to grip your ass, pulling you flush against him under the water. the bubbles hide the way his hips roll up into yours but you feel it and you gasp as your fingers curl into his damp hair.

"yeah?" his voice is rough now, the controlled mask slipping. "you gonna let me show everyone in cabo who you belong to?"

"mhm." you kiss him again, deeper this time, tongue sliding against his. he tastes like whiskey and something sweet from your lemon drop he stole a sip of earlier.

when you finally break for air, he's breathing hard as his forehead presses against yours.

"twenty three," he murmurs. "gonna be a good year for you."

"for us," you correct and the way his lips twitch makes your heart ache in the best way.

he pulls you tighter against his chest, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles into your lower back. the jacuzzi bubbles around you both, and the city sprawls out below the penthouse, glittering and distant.

"you're gonna be the death of me," he says into your hair.

you grin against his neck. "but what a way to go, right?"

Eren's words made you pause for a second, your eyebrows furrowing. You slid your tongue across the top row of your teeth before swallowing. "Yeah, thanks for reminding me."

"Are you pissed off at me?"

"I just don't want you to home wreck my, soon to be, relationship." You rolled your shoulders back, tilting your neck to the side as you tried to ease the nausea that began brewing at your own words.

"You're fucking lying." Eren snorted.

"I'm deadass." You picked up the phone, speaking directly into the microphone. "Now, get off my phone."

Without giving him a chance to speak, you pressed the circular red button signifying the end of the call. With that, you tried to tell yourself that your action was a step closer to ending things with Eren but, a bugging pinch in your gut made you feel otherwise.

It was small enough to swallow however. You kept the feeling down, low enough in the deepest parts of your nervous system that no one dared to travel through. You kept the feeling down long enough to finish getting ready and head out the door. You kept the feeling down, far enough in the back of your mind that it wouldn't dare appear on your face.

And that was how you found yourself sipping on the first cocktail you had seen at the bar in order to ease your nerves.

Dating was never your thing. You couldn't often remember how you met guys that you ended up with but, it usually had something to do with a party or a club scene gone south— literally. When you really thought about it, this was your first ever date, if you could call it that considering the fact that the man that you were supposed to date was nowhere to be seen.

You didn't mind at first. You needed your drink to kick in. But then, a drink turned into a refill, and then you had enough time to taste a new drink, and as your anxiety pounded through, you wanted something stronger and then, you didn't want to look aimless so you ordered another one. With each new drink, you would send a new text to your date. All of them had yet to be responded to.

Until he did respond.

And, when he responded, it was nothing but bad news. The only words you could make out were 'end things'.

That was when the alcohol, anxiety and abandonment all kicked in at once. You hadn't even realised that tears had started to brew before they started to trickle down your cheek. Your throat filled with a boulder of pain as you tried to keep yourself together long enough to walk to the bathroom.

The minute the doors closed behind you, waterworks took over. Sure, you could say that you were a crybaby. But, you were also just so tired of feeling out of control. You tried to create order in your life. You tried to keep things stable. You tried to have things to rely on. Everything just always seemed to crumble.

It was then that your phone lit up. It vibrated once, the screen appearing blurry through your teary eyes. chewing on your bottom lip, you breathed shakily as you dried your eyes as best as you could. When your eyes returned to your phone, your body grew hot.

Eren: Come outside

Eren. Of course it was Eren. He always had to interject himself into every situation you were in. But, for some reason, you couldn't stop your feet from leading you out of the bathroom, back through the bar and out to the parking lot.

Your head hung low and your eyes searched the ground for a rock to crawl under. There you stood, in your cocktail dress and face prettied up with makeup without your date. It was humiliating. You were humiliated.

The familiar honk of Eren's car had your head raising. You didn't waste time in walking up to the vehicle and opening the passenger door. You hadn't even entered the car and the corner of Eren's mouth was already lifting as he shamelessly eyed you. His hair was down and his outfit was casual yet put together. A shirt and pants. You did not want him to get any ideas. "You're taking me to my place and leaving immediately, okay?" You snapped, making Eren's eyebrows raise.

"So I'm your chauffeur now? What about your da-"

"Are you gonna give me this ride or not? 'cause I'll gladly find someone else."

"I can give you multiple rides tonight." The brunette grinned, his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes stuck to your cleavage.

"Fuck you." You stepped back slightly, putting enough pressure on the car door for it to close.

"Okay okay... okay." Eren put his hand out in protest. "Get in." You put your hand back down, crossing your arms. "I'll take you home, 'kay?"

You didn't say anything, allowing yourself into Eren's car as he started the engine. Trying your best to even out your breathing, you looked out of your passenger side window and hoped that Eren wouldn't piss you off at any point during the ride.

That hope didn't last long however as Eren couldn't bring himself to rub his two remaining brain cells together and read the room. "Have you been crying?"

With quick hands, you wiped your under eyes and used the remainder of your kindness to show your disapproval by letting out a frustrated sigh rather than throwing hands.

"Guess that's a wrap on the 'relationship to be' huh?" Eren's words pushed the last of your buttons.

Your head snapped around. "What is your fucking problem, Eren?" You scowled. “Like, seriously?”

“My bad, I guess the wound’s still fresh.” Eren made a wincing sort of expression. “Aren’t you used to it by now, I mean, how many times has a guy stood you up like this before?” He shrugged.

That was it. You were fucking pissed the fuck off.

Huffing, you shook your head in disbelief. “Oh, so you like seeing me being treated like shit by other guys?" You raised your arms ironically. “You just love to see me suffer, don’t you?”

“What the fuck?” Eren glanced over at you before bringing his eyes back to the road. "You seriously think I enjoy this?" He scoffed.

"Isn’t that why you came here?" You felt the heat in your face amplify as you spat your words out. "And you know what I realised? You’re always making sure you’re the first person to see me like this. Every fucking time." You exhaled shakily. “Because you wanna see me suffer.”

"Oh my fucking god. It's not because of that." Eren blew raspberries. “It’s actually, quite literally, the opposite of that.”

“Okay, sure, whatever. I don’t care whatever the fuck it is.” You flung your hands up in the air carelessly. "Why won't you just leave. Me. Alone." You emphasises your words by punching your fists into your thighs with each word.

"That's not what you want." Eren laughed as if your wishes were ridiculous.

"You think I'm playing?" You raised your eyebrows.

"You're confused." Eren briefly pulled his eyes off the road once again to look at you. "Seriously."

"I'm confused?” You laughed in disbelief. “Fuck you, Eren.” You shook your head, leaning back into your seat as you crossed your arms.

A beat of silence passed before you began to tear into him once more. “I'm literally over this. I’ve said it multiple times, you’re not getting me back.” You leaned forward, cocking your head just enough to penetrate through Eren’s peripheral vision. “Is that fact just so hard to swallow that you have to blame everything on me?"

"You're not over it." Eren scoffed

"Who the fuck are you to tell me what I'm feeling?” You argued.

“I know you’re not over it because you keep fucking talking about it. That’s all you do.” Eren dragged a hand down his face as if he were anywhere near as frustrated as you. “You think you’d keep talking about how much you hate me if you were over it?”

“Well I do hate you Eren, that's for fucking sure." Sizzles of white hot anger flared through your body as you spoke.

"No you don't." Eren kept his eyes ahead, his grip on the steering wheel noticeably tightening.

"Oh my god, stop fucking doing that shit. I'm actually over it. I'm over you. I'm over this-"

"Then why the fuck are you here? Huh, Y/n?" The slight raise in Eren's voice had you instantly shutting up. "Why haven't you fucking blocked me? How do we still talk? How do we still fuck? How do you let me do these things if you hate my fucking guts? Huh?"

You breathed heavily, feeling the tremble of your body; you couldn't even recall when it had started. A familiar blur glossed over your vision and you could feel your throat tighten. Pursing your lips, you turned to look out the passenger window once again, feeling your heart stutter from the hurt.

For a second, you tried to think about it. You tried to answer Eren's questions. But, thinking about it was too fucking painful.

"Hey," Eren placed a hand on your lower thigh, instantly being shaken off by you, "I don't wanna argue with you, Y/n."

"You think I do?" You huffed out a curse and leaned back in your seat, your lip trembling.

A beat of silence flashed through the atmosphere as you and Eren sat in the remnants of your bickering.

"You okay?" You could feel Eren's quick glances at you through his driving. Turning up the volume on the radio of his car, you were desperate to drown out everything about him despite him being beside you.

The rest of the drive turned completely silent, a thick, uncomfortable blanket resting atop the roof of the car. You tried your best to hold yourself together, knowing that your apartment was close enough.

Every second felt gruelling with the presence of Eren choking you. An uncomfortable tightness wouldn't release its grip on your chest and just breathing felt difficult. Upon reaching your apartment, you couldn't even feel the weightlessness of any type of relief.

"Alright." Eren sighed as if he were about to start another lecture.

You exited the car before his words could get to you, slamming the door and speed walking to your complex.

"Y/n." Eren mimicked your prior movements and jogged up behind you. "I'm sorry for what I said, okay?"

"Just go." You dug through your bag, desperate to find your keys.

"I just wanna make sure you're okay."

"Leave, Eren." You spoke through gritted teeth, feeling your heart stutter.

"I care about you, Y/n."

"Oh my god, go away!" A larger lump grew in the back of your throat, making you hiccup towards the end of your sentence.

"Not until I know you're okay." Eren placed his hands on your shoulders and spun you around, forcing you to face him. "I want you to be okay."

Upon looking him in the eyes, you felt sharp flashes of emotion trickle through you. "I hate you!" You slammed your fists against his chest, hard enough to release your pent up frustration and start up your waterworks once again.

"C'mere." Eren let his hands smooth their way down your shoulders and across your back before he pulled you into his chest. You cried uncontrollably, unsure of how your tears were even able to well up so much— hadn’t you literally just cried?

It felt like you were an endless stream of tears, letting yourself empty your sobs right into Eren's shirt. He was warm against you, sculpted yet comfortable and he smelled like home. You were sick of this feeling before you had even realised that it was something that you had felt before.

Eren rested his chin atop your head, rubbing his palm up and down your back. "I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry for everything." His voice was soft and velvety, making you shiver as it soothed you.

"You don't- You don't even know what you're sorry for." You hiccuped, trying your best to bring your tears to a stop.

"Of course I do. I shouldn't have riled you up, I shouldn't have shouted, I shouldn't have made you cry. I'm sorry, baby." Eren stroked the back of your head.

"You shouldn't have called me before my date. You shouldn't have texted me. You shouldn't have picked me up."

"But I care about you, too fucking much."

"And I fucking hate you for it!" You placed your palms against his chest, pushing him back and breaking the embrace you previously had. "I don't know why you can't just hate me back?" Wrapping your arms around each other, you broke out into more sobs.

"I hate seeing you like this, Y/n." Eren took a few steps closer to you, holding his arms out in an attempt to embrace you once again.

"It's your fucking fault." You pulled away, turning your head as you tried to wipe your tears.

"Then let me fix it." The brunette man crouched down, looking up at you with desperate eyes. "You can hate me all you want after this but let me take care of you, just this once. Please."

You swallowed hard, trying to look anywhere other than his pleasing expression. This had happened time and time again. Every time you both would agree it was the last time but, deep down, you both knew you were fated for this to happen again.

You just weren't ready to break the cycle yet. "Fine." You pouted with your arms crossed.

"Thank you." Eren stood up once more, placing a hand on your lower back. "Let's get you inside."

The key was easy to find when you weren't desperate for it— typical. The walk up to your apartment was filled with a similar silence as the latter half of the car ride. However, the tension wasn't as thick. It was almost as if both of you had slightly let down your fronts. The slam of the front door closing behind the two of you made everything feel so much more real.

It had happened again. Eren was in your apartment, late at night, again. There he was, grabbing you a drink, putting on your favourite show, microwaving the bag of popcorn that he has previously bought you the last time this had happened.

And there you went letting him stay.

You told yourself you needed it. You were fragile, upset, needy. You needed a distraction. You needed comfort. You needed Eren. And it worked. It worked so well that you couldn’t let him go— not just yet. But, of course, he couldn’t know that.

"I mean, who takes someone to a bar for a first date anyway? Shits creepy as hell." Eren shrugged, letting his hands fling up at his sides.

You blew raspberries, letting yourself fall back against your sofa. "I guess I just wanted to be relaxed enough to let him fuck me."

"But that's my job." Eren joked from where he was sat on the other end, leaving enough space for you to have on your own.

"Do you think we'll stay like this forever?" You placed your elbow on the arm rest beside you and rested your head in your hand. "Like, just stuck with each other?"

"Shit, I don't know." Eren grabbed a cushion, placing it in his lap. "People change as they get older, I guess."

"I have changed. I swear, I'm over this." You placed emphasis on the 'swear'. "But when I think about replacing you, never seeing you again, doing these things with someone else, I just- I don't know... Would you ever end things with me?"

"If you want to end things, you have to take the initiative." Eren shrugged.

"That's what I hate about you." You shook your head, turning away.

"This is what I love about you."

"What? The fact that I can't say no to you?"

"The fact that no matter how much you try and lie to me, you can't hide your feelings for long." Eren chewed on his lower lip. "It's hot."

"I'm not lying when I say I hate you." You turned back to face the grinning man.

"I know you think that but, you still can't bring yourself to end things. Why's that?" He cocked his head to the side, hair slightly dipping into his eyes as he raised his eyebrows.

You chewed on your lip as you looked at him, your chest rising and falling as you clenched and unclenched your fist. Your gaze dropped to his lips: that dirty smirk and boyish attitude. That was why. That was exactly fucking why.

“Hmm?” Eren questioned further, teasingly leaning in closer.

"It's fucking because of this." You leaned over and reached for Eren's shirt, grabbing a fistful before pulling him into you and meeting his lips halfway.

You kissed him with a desperation that you never had before, feeling heat rise up through your body as you feverishly moved your lips against his. Eren's lips were soft and plush and his mouth was warm and inviting, practically begging you to continue.

Eren's actions showed his satisfaction as well, what with the way he reached for your nape and pulled you into him. His own lips moved with passion, pressing against yours so hard your teeth knocked together briefly. His other hand moved down to your waist, encouraging you to get even closer.

You pushed your chest up against his, letting your want show through your proximity as a hand travelled up towards his cheek while the other arm wrapped itself around his neck. "Don't disappoint me like everyone else." You whispered against his lips, kissing him harder before briefly pulling away again. "If you don't wanna do this, tell me."

Eren pulled away completely, his gaze switching between your eyes, lips and cleavage. "Y/n, I'm so fucking hard right now." He looked down, causing you to follow his eye line as he removed the cushion from his lap, only to reveal his bulge.

You barely had the chance to part your lips in shock before Eren was taking your mouth back in his. This time, his tongue made contact with your lips, silently asking for entry. You let your own tongue meet his, the flat bases rubbing against each other as your lips smacked.

It felt good, so fucking good, you felt crazy for not having given in sooner. You could feel a warm tingle rest itself in your lower stomach, melting into a warm trickle that dripped lower and lower as your makeout with Eren grew heavier and steamier.

You swung your leg over Eren's manoeuvring yourself over him and straddling him. The position had your head spinning, knowing that the two of you were inches away from where you two needed each other so badly. Eren hummed in approval at the change in position, his hands drifting down towards the hem of your dress and pulling on it, bunching it up at your midsection.

You lightly gasped at the rough smack that landed directly against the skin of your ass. In return, you felt Eren smile against you. "This doesn't mean I like you." You muttered, purposefully lowering yourself over his bulge.

"Yeah?" Eren hummed, sinking his hands into the plush of your ass as you moved back and forth over his hard on. "You just wanna feel how hard you make me, huh?" He rested his head against the back of the couch, a dumb smirk on his face as he looked up at you.

"Shut up." You sank your teeth into your lip, feeling Eren's bulge nudge against your clit. The sensation sent shockwaves down your legs as you flinched in pleasure.

"Don't you wanna know how sexy you are to me?" The man beneath you grinned, his hands reaching up to your waist before trailing up your front and kneading the plush of your breasts over your dress. "I'll never stop jerking off to the thought of you." He raised his hips, the stiffness of his clothed dick nuzzling right into your tingly clit.

You gasped, slightly leaning forward as you shuffled your hips in sync with him. "You jerk off to the thought of me?" Your eyebrows furrowed and your lip found its way between your teeth. Although, this time, you weren't sure if it was from your emotions or from your pleasure. You deeply wished you could say it wasn't from pleasure but the feeling of Eren rutting up against your clit sent tingles all throughout your body as heat formed in your lower stomach.

"Yeah." Eren raked a hand through his hair, pulling any stray strands out of his eyes before settling his hand on your waist. "Every fucking night."

You swallowed hard, the image of Eren's late night shenanigans sending more condensed heat right into your core. "What do you think about?"

Eren smirked at your comment. "You wanna know?"

You scoffed. "Not when you act so cocky about it. It pisses me off."

"And you're so hot when you're pissed off." Eren hummed, bringing his large hands up to your tits once again. "I know you'll wanna take your anger out on me." He kneaded the fat, his head tracing a few kisses across your sternum before he looked up at you. "And it feels so fucking good when you take your anger out on me."

His hand was on your nape so quickly, you barely had time to register the fact that he was leaning in for a kiss. Although it didn't fully feel like a kiss. It wasn't affectionate, loving or careful. It was rough, passionate and lustful. He wanted you so badly you could taste the desire on his tongue. Eren breathed heavily against you, his free hand moving you over his clothed dick for his own pleasure.

You were tingling so badly in your clit you were nearing your breaking point. Grinding wasn't enough for you to fully get off, you needed more. You could feel the hot, leaky mess you had made in your panties from all of the teasing stimulation and you couldn't wait to finally receive what you so badly needed.

As you pulled away from the kiss, you rested your forehead against Eren's. "That's what you think about? When you jerk off?"

"Uh huh." Eren pecked you after nodding. "It's all I can think about when I think about you."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you stood up off of him. "As long as I hate you, you're never gonna hate me, are you?" You took a few steps back, crossing your arms over your chest.

Eren stood up from the couch and placed his hands on your shoulders. He looked down at you with glaring green eyes and a smile with a little too much admiration behind it. "How could I ever hate you, baby?"

"Don't say that." You huffed, only to be shut up with another quick peck.

"How could I ever hate these lips?" Eren kissed you twice, his lips moving slower and more intentional before he pulled away. He didn't look you in the eyes this time, his gaze lingered on your tits as he fiddled with the straps of your dress. "How could I ever hate these tits?" He spoke as he flung the straps over your shoulders and allowed for the dress to drop down to your hips. "So fucking sexy." He cupped the plushy mounds in his hands, crouching down to pepper kisses over your tits.

"You're not going to win me over by doing this." You rushed out before covering your mouth with the back of your hand as Eren traveled lower.

"I just want you to know that I could never hate this smooth, perfect skin." Eren placed gentle, soft kisses along your stomach, slowly reaching closer to where you were burning with heat. "I'll never hate this cute little belly button." He pulled down on the fabric bunched up at your waist to expose your navel. Then, he settled completely on his knees before you and looked up at you with his hands teetering underneath the remaining carcass of your dress.

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling as if you had to put all your effort into remaining stood up. Your breathing turned manual and you had to remind yourself to blink. But, you didn't say anything. And so, Eren kept going.

"And, how could I ever hate this pretty fucking pussy." He spoke as he sent your dress pooling at your ankles, revealing the sexy, lacey thong that you had intentionally picked out for your date. "You'd have to fucking kill me before I'd stop loving you, Y/n." Eren practically groaned at the sight of you stood before him, almost fully naked.

"This is too much." You stepped out of your dress, kicking it aside. "I don't need you, Eren. I'm over you." You looked down at the brunette man beneath you, watching as he removed his own shirt. You mimicked his position, kneeling down in front of him. "I fucking swear."

"Yeah?" He brought his hand up to your chin, tilting your head to face him. "How'd we end up like this, then?"

You slapped his forearm, swatting his hand away with furrowed eyebrows. "It's not about you, Eren." You pushed him to the ground by his shoulders, watching as his happy trail exposed itself upon him lying down. "I already wanted to fuck someone. You just happen to be here." You scooted up to him, unzipping his fly and unbuttoning his pants.

"So, you wanna fuck me?" He crossed his arms behind his head, watching you with heavy eyes.

"No, I wanna use you to fuck myself." You bit out at him, briefly reaching into his pocket for a condom that you knew he would have before yanking his pants down the entire way down.

"What's the difference?"

"I don't care about you. I don't care if you don't cum. I don't care if you do. I don't care if you get tired. I don't care if you want more." You straddled him, pulling his boxers far enough down his thighs to where his cock could spring out and fall back against his pelvis. It was flushed red with bulging veins and a heavy twitch to it upon being exposed to the air. You looked up at Eren, seeing the lust he had for you in his blown out pupils. "This is so I can get off. Don't fuck around."

"Challenge accepted." Eren nodded with a sly grin.

You rolled your eyes before spitting into your hand and briefly jerking him off. His dick was rock solid and heavy, his arousal leaking out through his tip in the form of precum.

It turned you on, although it wasn't because of Eren, it was clearly biological. And when Eren used his deeper, thicker voice to ask you "You feel how desperate I am to be inside you?" you had to pretend as if your stomach didn't flip.

You placed the condom on hastily, feeling the anticipation swirl in your stomach, linger in your perky clit and tingle through your hardened nipples. Upon sliding your thong to the side, you could feel the mess of wetness that had surrounded your desperate hole from all of the foreplay you had engaged in. You were soaked.

But, all of your natural lubrication only made it easier for you to slide Eren's tip through your slick. Your mouth dropped slightly at the waves of pleasure but you quickly sank your teeth into your bottom lip as to avoid giving Eren any satisfaction.

"Fuck." Eren exhaled at the mutual feeling, his eyes growing lidded. "I need your pussy so fucking bad." He slightly bucked his hips up, desperate for more.

You would have said something if you had the patience to but, truth be told, you were in the exact same boat. Not much time was wasted before you lined yourself up with Eren's cock and began to sink onto him. "Hah-" The burning stretch was enough to send your eyebrows flying upwards and inwards as you impaled yourself on Eren's thick dick.

"Oh fuck." Eren brought a hand to your hip, his fingers further sinking themselves into your skin the lower you would reach on his cock. "You're so warm, baby."

"Oh my god." Was all you could utter as your head swirled with heat and zings flew through your entire body at the intense pleasure upon entry.

You slightly lifted yourself up again before lowering yourself, this time going deeper and letting your pussy be filled up even more. It felt intoxicating. You placed a hand on Eren's chest, leaning forward as you placed your other hand over Eren's. You weren't sure why you did it but the feeling of his calloused knuckles beneath your palm was something that you unintentionally sought out.

"Fuck, you feel so fucking good." Eren gripped your hip harder, encouraging your movements with a solid hold on you. You swivelled your hips back and forth over his pelvis, feeling your clit bump into him with each movement.

You whimpered at the feeling, removing your hand from atop Eren's and leaning over. You placed your elbows beside Eren's head, your own eyes having no option but to stare down into his as you fucked yourself on his big cock. Biting your lip, you glanced over his expression, your pussy involuntarily clenching at the sight beneath you.

Eren already looked to be completely in bliss. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were dusted with a saturated shade of pink and his mouth hung open. Seeing him so... fucked out was something that you hadn't realised turned you on so badly. "You look-" Biting your tongue, you stopped yourself before you could comment on anything that you would regret later.

"Hmm?" Eren clearly wasn't going to let you off easily. His eyebrows raised as he moved to knead your ass. "Wanna repeat that, baby?"

"You're so- f-ah- fucking annoying." You yelped as Eren smacked your ass, the rough sting recoiling through your sensitive skin.

"Mmm, keep talking to me like that." Eren's hands moved back to your waist, lifting you up once again as he raised his hips. He fucked himself up into you deep enough for you to squeak at the feeling. "You like that, huh?"

"Fuck." Your head fell back in pleasure as Eren continued to grind up into you while you moved back and forth over him.

"Goddamn." Eren groaned, his movements growing deeper, and sluttier. "I missed this pussy." He planted his feet into the ground before thrusting up into you while pulling you down on his cock.

"Oh fuck, Eren!" You could feel your legs tremble at the sensation of Eren's cock rubbing up against your insides. His tip pressed against spots that made you quiver with pleasure. You could feel your sinuses burn as he fucked you from below, wet fapping noises filling the room as you covered your mouth desperate to hold any obnoxious noises back.

"Let me hear you, baby." Eren pleaded as he moved you back and forth, his eyes briefly fluttering shut. "I wanna hear how good you feel, how much you love fucking yourself on my cock. Come on, let me hear it. It gets me so hard."

You shook your head before grabbing Eren's wrists and pinning them on either side of his head. "I’m not giving you that satisfaction." You moved up and down, leaning over and watching as Eren's head dropped to the side and his fists clenched.

"Holy shit. Thats good- fuck!" Eren moaned as his natural pink blush began to fill his entire face. "Fuck, I'm so hard." His words had your pace slightly stuttering. "You feel that? How hard I am inside you? Christ, it's all you baby. You're so fucking hot." Eren chuckled.

"Mmmfuckk, shut up." You covered Eren's mouth with your hand, your movements growing harder and faster. "I hate you. I don't- fuck- I don't know why I'm doing this. I just- I can't stop." You leaned back, keeping your hand over Eren's mouth as you continued to bounce on his cock.

Your head fell back, your stomach flipping and your legs shaking as you brought your free hand to your clit. "Fuck, I can't- it's... so- shit." You weren't sure what had possessed you but, you just couldn't stop talking. It felt good, way too good that you had to continually remind yourself that you weren't in heaven.

"Oh baby..." You weren't sure when you had removed your hand from Eren's mouth but hearing his voice only added to your pleasure. You leaned into it, letting the vibrations of his words feeding into your arousal. "I needed this so fucking bad. I'm so crazy about you, I couldn't imagine never being able to fuck you again."

"I said- I said this isn't about you." You placed your hands behind you on Eren's thighs and let yourself use his length to hit all of the good parts inside of you. "I just wanna feel good."

"Let me make you feel good." He brought a hand to your clit, using his thumb to rub circles on the sensitive nub. Your head hung low at the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as your pace faltered.

Eren took over, his free hand coming to rest at your hip while he thrusted up into you. "God, you look so fucking sexy." He brought you down on his cock, meeting you halfway with deep thrusts that hit every spot that made you feel good. "It surely doesn't feel like you hate me. You're fucking soaked."

Your eyes lifted to see the smuggest smirk on Eren's face. It made you burn. "That's not true." Leaning forward, you clutched onto the sides of Eren's neck with your hand as you began to frantically lift yourself up and down. "I hate you so much, Eren." You watched as his face grew a darker layer of pink and his eyebrows twitched. "I don't care, I just- it's only the sex. That's the only reason."

"Yeah?" Eren's voice was strained and quiet. His mouth hung open as the pink dusting on his face traveled down to his neck.

"Fuck, yes!" You bit your lip, briefly squeezing your eyes shut as you felt Eren's dick massage the spot that made the coil inside you threaten to break.

That was until Eren's coil broke before yours. "I'm cumming." Was all you had to hear before you felt the rough throbs of Eren's cock as he filled up the condom. "Oh fuck, Y/n. I can't- I can't stop, it feels too fucking good." Eren babbled as he involuntarily grinded up into you, his dick reaching impossibly deeper as he tried to ride out his orgasm.

All you could do was look down in shock as you watched Eren's eyebrows furrow and his eyes briefly loll into the back of his head as he came. "Shit. I'm sorry, i'm sorry, im sorry. I don't know how- Oh fuck!"

"I said I don't care if you cum." You started moving once again, frantically lifting your hips up and down on Eren's cock once again as you rubbed your clit.

"Shit, baby, it's- fuck- I just came!" Eren's abs flexed as he moaned out. His voice grew higher, breathier and more desperate as you kept going. The expression on his face was one that had your orgasm building way quicker than you had expected. His eyes were glossy and wide as strings connected from his tongue to the roof of his mouth and his eyebrows flew upwards and inwards. "Oh my fucking godddd." Eren pursed his lips, his eyes rolling back as he fell completely limp, letting him use you.

"I'm close." You hiccuped, frantically swivelling your hips back and forth as you rubbed your clit. The coil in your core wound up quicker than you could anticipate as you grew riddled with pleasure. Your breathing became laboured and your movements became sloppy as you neared your high.

Eren's cock was still so impossibly hard inside of you, you couldn't believe how turned on he was. It only fed your arousal and made your coil teeter on the edge of breaking.

"Oh my fucking god, Y/n, you're gonna make me fucking cum again." Eren whimpered, his voice breaking as he cried out. You watched as his entire body stuttered and shook beneath you.

And, when his you felt the violent throbs of his cock inside of you once again, it was your turn to be sent over the edge. The coil inside of you snapped and when it did, it snapped so fucking hard you collapsed on top of Eren. "Fuck!" You moaned as your legs shook and your clit throbbed as bright white heat shot through you, sending ripples of pleasure out from your sensitive clit and flowing through your body.

You breathed heavily, feeling your clit twitch weakly at such a violent orgasm having topped through you. Lifting your hips up, you pulled yourself off of Eren's dick, catching a moan slipping from his lips at the action. "Jesus fucking Christ." Eren sighed from beneath you. "I've never felt that before." He choked out. "Never felt so fucking good."

"Oh god, you better not start bugging me about this as well." You huffed before rolling off him and lying on your back on the floor next to him. "You're such a slut, you know that?"

"I just lose control of myself when I'm around you and your pussy." Eren grabbed your hand before bringing it down to his cock. It was still hard. "I seriously can't get enough of it."

“that’s not the point—”

“whats the point?” he scoffs while already standing up and letting your wrist go. “you think that shits funny? you got me lookin’ stupid.”

he starts to pace with a hand over his mouth, then looks back at you.

“delete that shit. right now.”

you stare at him in silence for a second before laughing in his face. “connie can you calm down? i don’t even have tinder!”

he reaches for your phone again to check for himself only to see your screen now recording you looking back up at him laughing.

“…you lucky,” he mutters while throwing your phone on your lap as his hand grips the back of your neck to pull you into a quick kiss.

“but don’t ever play like that again.”

onyankopon

“i found your friend on tinder.”

he doesn’t react immediately but just looks at you with a raised eyebrow from across the kitchen island as he stops eating the strawberries you cut up for him before you started recording.

then he looks at your phone.

then back at you.

“…why do you have tinder?”

he was too calm for your liking.

you smile. “just saw—”

he holds his hand out.

“phone.”

you hesitate as you still try your best to record his reaction. “im using it?”

he raises his eyebrow again before tapping his fingers against his still held out palm, waiting.

“…phone.”

you start giggling at your boyfriend’s serious reaction knowing his mind is probably racing behind that calm demeanor. “it’s a prank—”

“mhm. i’m not asking ma.”

“ony—”

“you think i care about a joke?”

ony walks around the kitchen island and you try to run away from your boyfriend but he grabs you by your arm before you can escape as he pulls you into his chest.

caging you with one muscular arm, he grabs your face with the other. “i know you not tryna play them type of jokes with me mama” he says with a slight grin.

you look up at him with puckered lips as his fingers squeeze your cheeks tightly. “you didn’t even react—”

“i did react,” he says simply. “just not the way you wanted.”

then he leans closer to give you a peck on your puckered lips.

“but don’t be download dating apps as a joke. that’s unnecessary.” he says as he stares you down.

“…and if my friend is on tinder, that’s his business.”

then he kisses you slightly again.

“…but you? not yours.”

eren

he’s laid out on your bed with his long hair messy and sprawled out on your silk pink pillows. his rings glint under the fairy lights surrounding your bed.

you’re laying on his chest pretending to record yourself but making sure to catch his face in the background.

“eren… i just found your friend on tinder.”

“…okay.”

no reaction. not even a blink as he continues to watch show he decided to put on.

you blink as your lashes flutter in confusion. “…okay??”

he shifts under you, still watching tv. “what you want me to do about it?”

you try not to cuss him out but give him a second chance. “i mean… i was on tinder and—”

that’s when his focus shifts to you as he raises a hand to grab your phone with no hesitation only to see himself staring back at him.

silence.

you lift yourself up from eren’s chest and stare at him in disappointment.

“yeah…took you a while to catch on. that’s actually crazy ren.”

he locks your phone and exhales through his nose while leaning back again like he doesn’t care.

“yeah. don’t do that.”

you glare at him and slap him on his chest as you get off the bed. “ugh, you’re such a boy eren,”

“maybe i should download tinder since you can’t seem to notice it right in your face!” you yell as you walk out the room and straight to the kitchen to get a needed shot of some type of liquor after that.

jean

you’re sitting on jeans bed as he plays whatever game gets him upset after every match. you’re phone is recording from your lap as you call his name.

“jeanie, i found armin on tinder—”

his fingers stop moving on his controller as he turns to look at you with a look that’s mixed with confusion and disbelief. “you were on tinder??”

he’s quick to stand and set down his controller on his desk as he starts pacing. already stressed.

“are you serious right now? like actually serious? you downloaded tinder? for what??”

“jeanie i was just trying to tell you i seen ar—”

“no, no, no– don’t ‘jeanie’ me!” he yells at you like you just committed a crime. “why would you even have it??”

you try to hold back your laugh from the distraught look on his face but a giggle manages to escape and now he looks offended.

“this isn’t funny!”

“it is–”

“it’s not!” he groans while running his hands through his hair. “so what, you just browsing now??”

“i don’t even look like someone you find off tinder?!” he adds, now fully spiraling at this point.

“it’s a joke!” you finally manage to get in between his continuous rant about tinder men.

he freezes mid pacing while staring you down.

“…you’re lying.”

you show him your recording phone with a giggle as you stand up to stand in front of him and grab his arm.

then folds his arms while turning away dramatically.

“wow.”

“jean–”

“wow. so you just like stressing me out for fun now.”

he sits back down at his desk while pouting hard and grabbing his controller.

“…i’m not talking to you for the rest of the day.”

not even a full two minutes later he glances at you.

“…you really don’t have it?”

reiner

you’re making dinner for you reiner when a joke you seen on tiktok pops into your head. you know reiner isn’t on social media as much so he wouldn’t get the reference.

what’s the harm in seeing his reaction anyways? as you stir the chicken and dumplings in the pot, you casually bring it up. “hun, the other day i seen annie on tinder.”

he frowns immediately as he stops setting the table.

“…what’s tinder?”

you pause as you slightly shrug. “…a dating app.”

now he looks even more confused.

“…so you were on a dating app?”

you shrug again to keep yourself from breaking character as you feel his eyes burning into the side of your head. “not really but i seen annie and i just thought it was funny.”

“what do you mean ‘not really’? why would you even download a dating app?” he asks with genuine concern as he moves closer. “are you unhappy?”

“no–”

“do you want to meet other people?” he continues rambling in the most sincere way possible. “because we can talk about that, i just–”

“reiner it’s a joke, hun!”

he stops mid sentence and stares at you.

“…oh.”

he nods slowly as he closes the distance between you two, making you drop your spoon on the counter to give your grizzly husband a hug.

“…okay.”

“still delete it.”

“i don’t have it!”

“good. keep it that way.”

he bends down to engulf your lips as he kisses you while squeezing a little too tight.

“…i don’t like the idea of you being on something like that.” he mumbles against your lips, not really pulling away.

you smile against your connected lips and give him another kiss as you rub his shoulders.

The vintage filter softens your features like a sun faded Polaroid as you tuck a loose curl behind your ear, exhaling with a wistful smile.  

“So—You're probably wondering where we've been." 

The lens lingers on your face—nostalgia flickering in your dark eyes as you glance past the camera, like you can still see the walls of your old New Orleans shotgun house behind it. That cozy, creole haven with its peeling paint and humming ceiling fans, where the scent of jasmine and Eren’s cooking curled through every room. Home. 

“Six months changes things," you murmur,  “And, well...life happened." 

A breath.   

“‘Ren’s meal prep business blew up." 

The confession comes with a giggle, like even now it still feels surreal. The Seoul deal had landed like a lightning strike—some high-end Korean health conglomerate offering stupid money for exclusive rights to his keto chicken bowls and Creole-spiced shrimp packs.  

“You saw the anniversary live, right? The one where—" You bite your lip,“—Yeah. Anyway. Two days later, they slid into his email with a contract thicker than his arm.” 

But? The logistics were brutal. Endless flights between NOLA and Incheon, you both exhausted, missing each other achingly in the stretches between. You mimic Eren’s signature scowl, deepening your voice—

“'Either come with me or I’m burnin’ the passport, Bunny.'" 

The move to Korea had been a whirlwind—thrilling at first. Neon-lit streets, steaming bowls of tteokbokki at 3AM, Eren’s hands possessive on your waist as he showed you his Seoul between meetings. But then...  

Your smile falters.  

“It got lonely." 

No Sunday gumbo with your momma. No impromptu BBQs with your cousins spilling onto the porch. Just the two of you in a sleek high-rise, struggling with subway maps and missing the warmth of your people.  

“We were happy, but—hollow?" 

You press a hand to your sternum, like you can still feel the echo of it. 

You then exhale softly, curling your fingers around the edge of the sofa as you confess, “We needed a break—And ‘Ren’s birthday was the perfect excuse to escape."

The waves crash lazily in the background as you tilt your head, sunlight catching the gold hoops in your ears. 

“St. Lucia was his dream. Warm water, no schedules, no ’corporate meetings’—" You roll your eyes playfully, but the lightness doesn’t quite reach the tension in your shoulders.  

Then, quieter—  

“But...he hasn’t been handling twenty-nine the way I thought he would?” 

You bite your lip, eyes flickering toward the bedroom where he still sleeps. 

“He keeps saying shit like—" You deepen your voice into another gruff imitation of him, “'Damn, Bunny. I’m gettin’ old. Need to settle down before my knees give out.'" 

You shake your head, “It’s not just jokes, though. He’s been different. Obsessing over timelines, talking about legacy.” 

Your fingers trace idle patterns on your thigh, avoiding the camera’s gaze for a second.  

“And then one night, he just—" You swallow hard, “…He said he wanted a baby.” 

You curl into yourself slightly, arms wrapping around your middle as if bracing for impact.  

“I mean...we always talked about it. But..." you shrug helplessly, "You guys know I don’t plan on doing this—" You gesture vaguely at the camera, “Once we’re married with kids. And I love that you guys have been with us through everything. But..."

A shaky breath.  

“I never expected it to be now, you know?” 

The air between you and the lens feels thick—charged with something unspoken. Then, abruptly, you straighten, blinking away the wetness in your eyes as a slow, secretive smile tugs at your lips.

“Before I bring myself to tears—well, just watch."

The burgues script appears again. 

ST. LUCIA THROUGH YOUR EYES. 

A montage flickers to life—each frame saturated with golden sunlight and laughter, the ocean breeze tangling in your hair as St. Lucia unfolds around you both like a dream.  

The first day. ‘You in a sheer, plum wrap dress that clings to every curve, standing barefoot on the villa’s terrace as Eren’s hands slide around your waist from behind. His lips brush your shoulder—“My pretty fuckin’ Bunny,” before he nips at your earlobe, making you giggle and swat at him.  

That night. A low-lit restaurant nestled right on the beach, lanterns casting a honeyed glow over your faces. You’re seated at a candlelit table, the ocean breeze tousling the loose waves of your dark hair. The camera catches you mid-laugh—a plunging white dress clinging to every dangerous curve of your body, the neckline dipping just low enough to tease the swell of your heavy tits.  

You flash a mischievous grin at the lens, dragging your fingertip through the frosting of the miniature birthday cake the staff brought out—“For my birthday boy,” before sucking the sweetness off your finger with an exaggerated pop. 

The camera pans to Eren. 

Oh, God. 

A crisp white button-up clings to his muscular frame like a second skin, his sleeves rolled up to expose those tattooed forearms. His dark hair is slicked back in a low bun—jawline sharp enough to cut glass—green eyes glinting with something between hunger and amusement as he watches you.  

Without breaking eye contact with the camera, he leans in—dragging his tongue between your lips, stealing the last traces of frosting straight from your mouth.  

You let out a breathy giggle, cheeks flushing as he pulls back with a smirk—“‘Shit tastes better on you." 

 The second week. A bustling street market. You wear a sage green crochet bikini top and high-waisted denim shorts, sandals dangling from one hand as Eren feeds you bites of spiced plantains off his fork. His thumb swipes sauce from your bottom lip, then slowly licks it off, eyes locked on yours while vendors wolf whistle in the background under your flushed squeaking for him to stop. 

That afternoon? A lively, sun-drenched outdoor hair salon tucked under a canopy of palm leaves and strung with colorful beads that clink softly in the breeze. You’re perched on a low wooden stool, surrounded by four St. Lucian aunties—their hands moving in a hypnotic blur as they section, twist, and fold your thick, dark curls into an intricate masterpiece.  

Eren’s deep chuckle rumbles behind the camera—“Look at my baby, lookin’ like prettier than the ocean.” 

You go to stick your tongue out at him, but that’s when one of the women chides you gently in Kwéyòl—“Hold still, darling!”—before dissolving into warm laughter with the others. The rhythmic swish-swish of hair being braided fills the air, fingers tugging just enough to make you pout.  

Another day. The rainforest. ‘You in a khaki mini-skirt and a tied-up tank, shrieking as your sandal slips on a mossy rock—only for Eren to catch you mid-fall, his biceps flexing as he hauls you upright with a growl. 

“Watch ‘your feet, woman. You break an ankle, I’m carryin’ you everywhere from now on.” 

That evening. A local elder—"Banana Man," as you dubbed him—grinned toothlessly as he guided Eren’s hands around a machete, teaching him to split a ripe banana stalk. Eren listens intently, nodding, repeating phrases in rough-but-earnest Creole while you beam beside him, fingers laced through his free hand in support.  

And finally? Sunset. The beach. You in a flowy, butter-yellow sundress, bare feet sinking into warm sand as the Banana Man and another woman chuckles, handing you both each a piece of freshly-cut fruit. 

Behind you, you hear the woman fussing at Eren in the same melodic dialect, “Ou pral koupe dwèt ou yo!,”  You’ll chop your fingers off!—her tone exasperated but fond. 

You bite back a giggle, still focused on your own fruit, not daring to glance over.  

"Are you givin' her a hard time?" you call out, voice lilting with amusement.  

Eren’s response is soft, almost too casual—  

“Not at all, baby." 

A pause. Then—  

“…Might need some help from you, though." 

You roll your eyes playfully, turning with a grin—  

And the world stops.  

Because there he is.  

On one knee. 

The machete abandoned beside him, replaced by a velvet box cradled in his trembling hands. His face—usually so composed, so controlled—is raw with emotion, eyes glistening under the sunset.  

"Mwen vle ou pou tout rès vi mwen," he rasps—I want you for the rest of my life. 

A sob tears from your throat before you can stop it. Your hands fly to your mouth, the piece of fruit tumbling forgotten into the sand as your knees nearly give out.  

“Wi—YES—oh my GOD!" 

You're in his arms before he can even finish, nearly knocking him over as you collapse against his chest, babbling yes in every language you know—Creole, English, everything—between desperate kisses and tearful laughter.  

The camera cuts back to you now—sunlight catching the glint of tears still clinging to your lashes as you hold up your left hand, the diamond glinting like captured starlight. Heavy. Perfect. His. 

“We're getting married!” you whisper yell, voice trembling with a giddy, breathless laugh—but it fades too fast.  

"...Haven’t been able to get pregnant, though." 

A shaky breath. The words taste like salt and something sharper.  

“We tried. A couple times. And then...weknew." 

Your throat works around the weight of it.  

“‘Doctor ran tests. There's—" A tiny, broken noise, “A lot." 

Your gaze drops to your lap, where your other hand fists in the fabric of your slip.  

“Eren…has given up so much for our content. Let the world into us. But—" 

A tear splashes onto your knee. Then another. You don't even notice until your voice cracks.  

“All he wants now is privacy. His wife. A baby.” 

You swipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand, laughing wetly—“And I couldn’t even—" 

The sentence dies.  

For a long moment, there's just the sound of the ocean and your unsteady breathing. Then, so quiet the mic barely catches it—  

"It felt like I failed him." 

Your laughter wavers—thin and watery—as tears streak hot down your cheeks. You swipe at them with trembling fingertips, shaking your head as you murmur, “Sorry, sorry,” to the empty air.  

Your voice steadies, even as the tears keep falling.  

“But we’re here, in St.Lucia. And I get to spend the rest of my life with the man I love.” 

You tilt your face up toward the sunlight, closing your eyes for just a second—  

But that’s when the sound of heavy footsteps on tile makes your breath catch. 

And there he is.

The camera doesn’t catch his face—just the sheer mass of him, silhouetted against the morning light. Long dark hair, streaked with gold where the sun touches it. Broad shoulders, tattoos creeping up the side of his neck. His bare chest is a canvas of sun-kissed skin, scattered with moles and faint freckles.  

But you see all of him—the deep green of his eyes, hazel flecks burning under heavy brows. The natural frown etched into his features, lips full and pink, parted as he rasps—  

“Why the hell ain’t you in bed?” 

His voice is sleep-rough, edged with concern.  

“…’Couldn’t sleep,” you murmur, “Got dressed.”

Silence. 

His thumb suddenly grazes your cheek, catching a stray tear. His touch is rough but tender, tilting your face up toward him as he grunts—  

“‘You good?” 

His hand dwarfs your face, fingers tipping your chin up further. You blink up at him through damp lashes, lips curling into a soft smile despite the lingering tears. 

“‘Was just talkin' to our little family," you say, thumb brushing the camera lens gently—“They miss you." 

“I miss you in bed," he counters, voice a low, sleep-rough rumble that sends heat prickling up your neck.  

A breathless giggle escapes you as you glance at the time.

“Baby, it’s barely noon.” 

Your fingers catch his wrist, tugging lightly—“Come sit with me?" 

He hesitates—then shakes his head, jaw tightening slightly.

“I’ll ‘show face in a bit," he grunts, “‘Gotta shower first." 

“And then you’ll come?" 

"Mhm." 

The affirmation is gruff, but his grip on your chin tightens as he suddenly leans down, claiming your mouth in a deep, possessive kiss—tongue dragging slow over your bottom lip before pulling away with a wet pop. 

And then, he’s gone.

You sigh playfully, shaking your head with a knowing smile as you watch him stalk off—"That's him in a good mood," you murmur, rolling your eyes affectionately before your expression shifts—mischief sparking in your gaze.  

“Well, what he doesn't know is I've got a little surprise.” 

You bite your bottom lip, fingers tapping against your thigh.

"For him... and you guys."

 A sly wink, “You know I can't come on here without giving y'all the other part of our channel." 

With that, you hop up from the sofa—bare feet padding silently across the sun-warmed terracotta floors as you tiptoe through the sprawling Mediterranean villa.  

The outdoor shower comes into view—a stunning mosaic of turquoise and deep cobalt tiles, sunlight dappling through the latticework. The sound of rushing water meets your ears first, then—  

Him. 

Eren stands fully nude beneath the spray—a masterpiece of masculine power carved in ink and muscle. Water sluices down the hard planes of his tattooed chest, his biceps flexing as he runs a hand through his dark, wet hair—pushing it back just enough to reveal the sharp cut of his jaw, the sinful curve of his mouth. Droplets cling to his long lashes, framing those deep green eyes as he tips his head back, throat working as the water cascades over him.  

His body is ridiculous—abs like forged steel, thick thighs taut with restrained strength. And then—there. Between his legs, heavy and full even at rest, his cock hangs thick against his thigh, the flushed tip glistening under the water. 

You carefully prop the camera up, angling it perfectly to capture the outdoor shower's decadent scene before slipping the sheer coverup from your shoulders—letting it pool at your feet in a whisper of fabric. Your neon orange bikini clings to every curve as you step under the arched entrance, hips swaying with playful purpose as you approach his towering frame.

The moment your arms slide around his waist—lips pressing a teasing kiss to the small of his water-slick back—his entire body tenses. Then, slowly, he turns. 

One large hand cups your chin, tilting your face up as he looms over you—those hunter-green eyes dark with warning. 

“Du kleine Unruhestifterin," he murmurs, voice rough. 

You little troublemaker.

His tongue lolls out lazily—a silent command. You obey instantly, your own tongue slipping past your lips to meet his. The slide of them together pulls a shudder from you, your eyes rolling back as he deepens the kiss with a growl—claiming your mouth like he owns it. Because he does.

When you finally pull away—giving his bottom lip one last tug between your teeth—the noise he makes is pure animal. A deep, possessive grunt that sends heat spiraling through your core. You giggle, high and breathless, licking the taste of him from your lips.

“Be nice," you whisper, fluttering your lashes up at him—equal parts angel and devil. 

His fingers thread through your French curls, gently cradling your head as he tucks your giggles against his chest—the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear. Then, finally, he turns his gaze toward the camera—voice a low, affectionate rumble. 

“She’s always been good at persuadin’ me.” 

You drape your arms around his neck, pressing your body flush against his as your giggles bubble up—tits bouncing against him playfully. 

“‘You happy now? You love all our babies?" you chirp. 

His response is a deep, vibrating ”Mhm," as his hands slide down to grip your hips possessively. You snuggle closer, tucking your face into the crook of his shoulder with a satisfied hum, breathing in his scent—sandalwood, something distinctly him. 

But while you're nestled against him like a content kitten, Eren has other plans. His lips quirk in that cocky half-smile as he mouths “I lied," directly at the camera—his wink full of mischief before he nuzzles back into you, knowing damn well what he just did.  

The camera now cuts to a sprawling deep green sofa bed in a sun drenched corner of the villa, where you're sprawled out in nothing but a skimpy gold bikini—back arched, hips tilted, ass up—your skin glistening under the Caribbean light.  

You pout dramatically at the lens, running your hands over your thighs. 

“Ugh, I swear I won’t get a full tan here!” you whine, twisting to show the untouched skin of your inner thighs—your fingers tracing the faint tan lines with exaggerated frustration.  

Before you can continue your lament, a sharp smack! echoes through the room—Eren’s palm landing firmly on your ass, making the flesh jiggle. 

”Move," he rumbles, already nudging you aside—his natural dominance taking over as he manspreads onto the sofa bed like he owns it. His tattoos flex under the golden light, one thick thigh nudging yours apart as he settles in. 

Your lips purse into an exaggerated pout, eyes fluttering up at him with faux hurt.

“You're being mean.”

Eren's stares. His index finger then crooks, wagging you closer with that effortless, commanding ease that always makes your stomach flip. You slide toward him, hips swaying playfully, until his hand cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a searing kiss—quick but deep, his tongue swiping possessively over yours before pulling away with a wet smack.

“Tut mir leid, Schatz," he rumbles—I'm sorry, baby—his rough German apology curling around your ears like smoke.  

You grin at the camera, freckles standing out against your brown skin as you rub your hands up and down Eren’s tattooed forearms. 

“Guess what we have?" you chirp, excitement bubbling in your tone.  

Eren arches a brow, his deep voice dry. 

“Fan mail?" 

"Fan mail!" you squeak, immediately digging into the pretty stack of envelopes beside you—tied together with a silk ribbon. You pluck one out, scanning it before correcting, “Fan question, actually." 

Clearing your throat, you read aloud—

“'I love you both so much—your dynamic, the way you tease each other, how passionate you are...Awe!” You pause, pressing a hand to your chest, touched. 

“'Okay, okay—so, I'm kind of shy asking this, but I'm in a relationship, and my boyfriend loves when I ride him, but I...don't really know what to do? Any tips?'"

Your lips curl into a sly grin as you shift your hips against Eren’s thigh, fingers drumming playfully on his chest.

“So, let’s talk about cowgirl—fun fact, it actually dates waaaay back," you purr, eyes sparkling with mischief.  

“…Some historians trace it to ancient tantric texts, others say it was practically sacred in certain cultures—but let’s be real," your curls sway as you tilt your head, “The real magic? ‘How many ways you can make this classic feel brand new." 

Eren’s palm thwaps your ass lightly—a silent get on with it. 

“There are several—yes, several—ways to ride," you announce, holding up the corresponding number of fingers, “And lucky for you..." You pat Eren’s thigh like he’s your favorite piece of gym equipment—“..I’ve got the perfect demonstrator right here."

His grunt is half-amused, half-exasperated as you swing a leg over him, straddling his lap playfully. 

“Consider this your full tutorial.”

Your posture shifts instantly—shoulders rolling back, lips parting with slow intention as your gaze locks onto Eren’s. The camera catches the way his pupils dilate just slightly when you run your tongue along your mouth, your voice dropping into that tone—the one that’s equal parts instructor and temptress.  

“Lesson one," you purr, fingertips skating up his chest, “Start with him comfortable. Relaxed." 

Your hips roll in a lazy circle against his lap, the heat between your thighs already unmistakable. 

“And obviously...hard. That’s the goal." 

You nip at his earlobe, breathing a giggle against his skin when his grip tightens on your waist.

“Baby," you murmur, dragging your tongue along the shell of his ear, “How’re you enjoying St. Lucia?”  

Eren’s jaw flexes—the only tell he’ll give you—but you feel him hardening beneath you, the thick ridge of him pressing insistently against your core. Your laugh is velvet-wrapped mischief as you grind down harder, relishing the way his breath hitches. 

“Mmm, that’s the reaction we want."

Your fingers glide over the bulging curves of his biceps, kneading the taut muscle with deliberate appreciation. 

“Aren’t you having fun with me?" you coo, batting your lashes up at him through the dark fringe of them.  

Eren’s eyes—always tracking you—darken further, his voice scraping low from his chest.

“You know how I feel bein’ here.”

“Good boy,” you softly praise, lips curling into that wicked little smile—the one that makes his jaw twitch. Your hands slide down to rub slow, teasing circles over his thick thighs, fingertips ghosting dangerously close to where he really wants them. 

“Thank you for being so...communicative.” 

Then, with a sinuous shift of your hips, you arch deeper into his lap—your gaze flicking back to the camera. 

“Now, tell me—does our birthday boy deserve something…special today?" 

The camera catches Eren perfectly—his dark hair pulled into a loose bun, those few stubborn tendrils escaping to frame his glaring, predatory expression. He’s pure power sprawled beneath you—legs spread wide, chest rising with each controlled breath—watching, waiting, like he’s deciding whether to make a move or let you play longer.  

Then—your hands hook into the waistband of his sweatpants. 

A sharp inhale. A quick tug.  

“Oh.” 

Your gasp is high, breathy, practically whiny as your big, round eyes drink him in—his cock springing free, thick,  flushed and already leaking just from your teasing.

“Look at you," you mewl, voice dripping with honeyed reverence—like he’s something sacred, "’All for me?" 

Eren’s smirk is barely there—just a twitch of those sinful lips—before his hand fists in your hair, tilting your face up to his.  

“Always."

Your gaze flicks back to the camera with that signature mix of sweet and sinful—letting them in on the moment before your attention returns to him. 

“Make him ready for you first," you instruct—your lips parting slightly, tongue swiping along your bottom lip as if already tasting him.  

Eren's eyes darken, his grip tightening on your thigh.  

“’You thirsty?” he rasps. 

You nod eagerly, biting down on your plush lip with those big, pleading eyes.   

He doesn't hesitate. His calloused fingers grip your chin, tilting your face up as he spits directly into your open mouth—a thick, wet string of saliva that lands heavy on your tongue.  

“Mmm—" You swallow instinctively, eyes fluttering shut as his palm cracks against your cheek.

“Zeig’s ihnen," he growls—Show them. 

And oh, you do.  

Your tongue drags slow and filthy from the thick base of him all the way up—a long, indulgent lick that leaves a glistening trail along his length. The taste of him—pure Eren—floods your senses as you swirl your tongue around his swollen tip, savoring the bead of precum that leaks onto your taste buds.  

Then—your lips part wider, sinking down onto him inch by inch until he’s pressed against the back of your throat. The sound—wet, filthy, obscene—fills the room as your nose brushes against his pelvis, swallowing around him with deliberate patience.  

Eren’s groan is low and rough, fingers tightening in your hair as he mutters something in German—praise or a curse, you can’t tell—but the way his hips twitch upward tells you everything you need to know.  

“Good fuckin’ girl.” 

Your movements grow desperate, hungry—swollen lips struggling to stretch around his impossible girth, every inch of him throbbing against your tongue as you hollow your cheeks and force yourself deeper. The sounds you make—tiny, choked mewls turning into breathless whimpers—only spur him on. His cock hits the back of your throat, again and again, the slick slap of skin against skin filling the air as you drool around him, spit dripping messily down your chin.  

When you finally pull away—gasping, lips shiny and ruined—you whine at the loss, your fingers immediately wrapping around what your mouth couldn’t take. Both hands jerk him off in tight, twisting strokes—your tongue darting out to swirl around his leaking tip, collecting the thick beads of precum and licking them up like a starving little thing.  

Eren’s voice is ragged, his German words rough and guttural—“So verdammt gierig..." 

“So greedy..." you translate breathlessly, giggling around his cock like it’s something adorable, something sweet, despite the filth dripping from your chin. Then? You’re practically bobbing your palms around his dick, going even lower than before. 

Eren’s thighs tense, muscles straining beneath ink-stained skin as he curses, fingers tightening in your curls.

“Fuck—" His head tilts back, jaw clenched, as he uses your palms—hips lifting off the bed to fuck up into your hand with sharp, punishing thrusts. You mewl once more as your mouth follows back onto his tip—sucking, sucking down. The camera catches it all—his dominance, your submission, the sinful wetness of every thrust as you put your mouth back on him—until finally, with a growl that rumbles through your bones, he yanks you off with a filthy pop. 

“Enough."  

Your lips are parted, panting, still aching for him—but his grip on your hair tightens, forcing you to meet his gaze.  

“You want to ride?" He rasps, “‘Come fuckin’ ride me.” 

“Mm, baby—“ you mewl, “This is a tutorial, shouldn’t we—“

Eren’s response is interrupting—his thick fingers hooking into the flimsy fabric of your bikini bottoms, yanking them aside with a roughness that makes your breath hitch. The sudden slap of his palm against your pussy—sharp, mean—has your hips jerking forward with it.  

“Keep goin’ then," he growls, fingers beginning to rub rough circles over your swollen clit, his other hand gripping your ass cheek tight enough to bruise. 

“Talk.” 

Your body shudders, thighs trembling as you struggle to stay composed—your giggles turning into more breathless whimpers, your voice wavering but still playful as you turn back to the camera.  

“O—Okay, so—once he’s ready," you stutter, cheeks flushed deep bronze, “You just—ah!—sink down on him—slow, okay?” You bite your lip, "Especially if—mmf!—if you’ve got someone as big as my 'Ren—“ 

Eren grunts, dragging the slick, flushed head of his cock through your dripping folds—letting the camera catch the obscene wetness coating him before he smacks your ass hard enough to leave a red handprint.  

“Ain’t nobody as big as me," he snarls, voice thick with arrogance—his grip tightening on your waist as he lines himself up, the heavy tip of him pressing teasingly against your entrance. 

“Bring it to me.” 

Your hand reaches back, fingers curling into the flesh of his thigh as you lock eyes with the camera—your lips parting around a shaky exhale as you begin to sink down onto him.  

Eren’s grip shifts suddenly—his calloused fingers seizing your jaw, forcing your face to stay angled toward the lens as he tugs you down with relentless pressure. The stretch is unreal—your walls clenching around his thick cock inch by inch as your breath hitches in your throat.  

Your eyes roll back—voice slurring as you try to keep instructing through the haze of pleasure, "Y—You wanna—mmf—take all of it—" 

Eren’s his hips jerk up hard, forcing another inch inside—his voice thick with arrogance, “You feelin’ me?” 

You whimper, hands gripping his thighs as you force yourself down, your slick walls yielding around him until your ass meets his hips—fully seated. Your face twists—lips parted in a silent moan, eyes squeezing shut before fluttering open to find him instead of the camera.  

And then—God—your folds spurt a fresh rush of cream against him, your body betraying you completely as you lose all semblance of control, trembling in his lap.  

“Look at you,” he rasps, “Actin’ like a big fuckin’ girl, little one.” 

Your arms snake around his neck, clinging to him as you press a soft, pleading kiss to his lips—whispering against them in Creole, just for him—“Lèt mwen mennen, chéri..."

Let me lead, baby… 

Eren hesitates—his dark eyes searching yours—before he exhales sharply through his nose. He pulls back just enough to guide your palms onto his chest, lips pressing against your ring, to both of your palms in turn—a silent permission—before his arms drop to his sides, muscles taut with restraint.  

“‘Go ‘head.” 

Your voice then lilts sweetly, hips rolling in slow, teasing circles against his lap.  

“Okay, so first—warm up," you murmur, fingers threading through the loose tendrils of his dark hair, tugging just enough to make his jaw clench.  

“You wanna start slow," you breathe, eyelashes fluttering—though your breath hitches when he twitches inside you, thick and impatient. 

“It's all about—mm—connection..." 

You whine a little—high-pitched, adorable—your folds clutching desperately at his cock with every tiny shift.  

“T—Take your time adjusting," you instruct shakily, though it sounds more like you're reminding yourself—your thighs trembling as you rise up until just the tip of him remains, then sink back down with a breathy sigh.  

Eren's hands flex against the sofa—his nostrils flaring as he watches you, taunting him with your lazy pace. But he lets you lead, just like you asked—even if his teeth grind together when your nails scrape against his scalp.  

“‘Feel good, baby?” 

Eren just growls, his hips jerking up just enough to make your entire body twitch.  

“Quit playin’."

Your lips press a tender kiss to the tip of his nose—soft, sweet—and he retaliates by bumping his nose against yours in return, making you giggle breathlessly.  

“Okay,” you whisper, “First three positions—think of ‘em like gears,” you explain, hips rolling in slow, indulgent circles—your thighs flexing as you shift upward, grinding rather than bouncing.  

“First gear—easy, sensual, all about the tease.”

You demonstrate, your back arching beautifully as you rock against him—your gaze locked onto his, heavy-lidded and dripping with intent, “It’s more for your pleasure, but—” 

One of your hands lifts, twirling a loose curl around your finger—your French braids cascading over your shoulders, the scent of vanilla and sunshine clinging to them.  

“You keep his attention by making him watch.” 

Your other hand slides up your own body—fingers trailing over your collarbone before you hook them into the ties of your bikini top. With a flick, the fabric falls away—your heavy breasts bouncing free, nipples peaked and begging for touch.  

Eren’s nostrils flare, but he stays still—letting you lead, even as his cock twitches deep inside you.  

“Second gear—”

 Your breath hitches as you shift again, riding him with more purpose—your hips undulating in slow, delicious waves.  

“Third gear—” 

And then you grind, your clit rubbing firmly against the base of him with every movement. A rush of pleasure floods your senses—your walls fluttering around him as you struggle to keep your voice steady.  

“Th—This one—” You swallow hard, your words slurring slightly, “Might—mmf—hit your spots—“ 

“Yeah?”

 Eren suddenly rasps—arrogant, smug—his fingers flexing against your hips but still refusing to help.  

A desperate little whimper escapes your lips—“Y—Yeah”—as your hips roll faster, grinding against him like a toy wound too tight, chasing that sweet, throbbing pleasure building low in your belly.  

Eren stays perfectly still beneath you—just watching with those eyes, his low voice taunting as he growls,  

“C'mon, baby. Keep goin’.” 

Your breath catches—a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as your head falls back, braids cascading over your shoulders. But Eren’s fingers snap up, wrapping around your throat in a firm grip, forcing your gaze back to him.  

“Nah, nah—eyes on me," he rasps, thumb brushing your pulse point—“‘Want you to see me watchin’ you.”

Tears well in your eyes—spilling over as your climax crashes into you with a sob, your cream gushing around him, coating his balls in slick heat.  

Eren tsks—his grip tightening on your ass cheek, tugging your grinding hips right where he wants them as he murmurs low in German,  

"So schön... so verdammt schön für mich…” 

So beautiful... so fuckin’ beautiful for me… 

Your hips slow to a sensual sway, chest rising and falling with each breath as your curls tumble over your shoulders, framing your breasts like a dark halo. You glance down at Eren through your lashes, lips parted as you try to steady your breathing—but the second your arms wrap around his neck, you let out a soft,  shy giggle, turning toward the camera with a sheepish smile.  

“Oops—" you murmur, voice dripping with playful sweetness, “Didn’t mean to get so...carried away."

Eren huffs out a rough chuckle, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses between your breasts—“I love watchin’ you like that. Love watchin’ you cum like that." 

You bite your lip, suppressing another giggle before looking back at the camera—your expression shifting back into instructor mode, though your voice is still breathy from pleasure.  

“See? The three gears—always gonna get you there," you sigh, fingers threading lazily through Eren’s hair—“And trust me... your man’s gonna love it."

Your lips curl into a lazy, satisfied smile as you glance at the camera, breath still uneven.  

“Not done yet though,” you hum—“‘Might feel a little sore after that first round, so this is when you just...sit in it. Warm each other up all over again." 

Your fingers trail down to nudge Eren's chin, tipping his face up toward you—your eyes softening as you whisper, "’Love you, yeah?" 

He doesn't answer with words—just tugs your mouth down to his in a slow, deep kiss, tongues sliding together with unhurried heat. His hands roam over your back, fingers pressing possessively into the curve of your hips as you shift slightly—your folds grinding lazily along the swollen tip of him, drawing a low groan from his chest.  

Then, with a breathless shudder, you sink back down onto him—your lips parting against his in a silent gasp as he fills you completely. The kiss deepens, languid and intoxicating, until you finally pull back—turning toward the camera with flushed cheeks.  

“This one—" you pant, rocking up and down in slow, shallow motions, “—We call the lazy cowgirl. No rush, no pressure... just breathing together before the next round." 

Your hips roll in smooth, rhythmic waves—your tongue dragging teasingly along Eren's neck as you murmur against his pulse, “Keep it playful now... this one's for him." 

Your hands glide over the sculpted planes of his biceps and shoulders, fingertips tracing the ink-dark tattoos as you murmur, “You’re too handsome, baby—" between slow, rocking motions. Eren grunts through the praise, dragging you into a deep, appreciative kiss—but you feel it, the way his restraint starts crumbling, the sharp catch of his breath against your lips betraying how badly he wants to take control.  

You tuck your face into the crook of his shoulder, braids spilling like silk over his skin as you peer behind you—watching the sinuous arch of your spine, the hypnotic sway of your hips as you move atop him.  

“Okay," you exhale once more, pulling back just enough to meet the camera's gaze—your voice dripping with playful mischief, “Next positions are where it gets fun—pleasurable for both of you." 

A giggle bubbles up as you admit, “It’s a silly name, but—we call this one the shakedown.” 

And then you show it—your ass lifting slightly before shaking in slow, deliberate twists atop him, the motion making your folds clench around his cock in a way that has his fingers digging into your thighs.  

A harsh smack echoes through the room—Eren’s palm cracking against your ass cheek, leaving a stinging flush in its wake. You gasp, but don't stop—grinding down harder as he spanks you again, and again,  each sharp slap punctuated by his guttural groans.  

“Fuck—" he grits out, grip bruising as he watches your body jolt with every strike.  

You whimper through it, trembling—but your voice is a pure sultry tease as you murmur to the camera, “Your man's gonna love how this looks…’gonna turn him on completely.”

Your arms tighten around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at his naught as you continue rolling your hips in slow, decadent circles—French curls cascading like dark silk over his shoulders, tickling his chest as you tilt your head.  

“Baby...you still with me?" you tease, breathless laughter lacing your words as you nudge his temple with your nose, "’You’ve been a little quiet…”

Eren’s response is a rough blend of English and German, his voice thick with barely-restrained hunger as his palm cracks against your ass again—harder this time—forcing a sweet little “Mmph!" from your lips as you jolt forward, your mouth brushing his.  

“Scheiße—" he growls, gripping your waist as his other hand lands another stinging slap—“Du siehst so verdammt gut aus—" 

You look so fuckin’ good. 

His words dissolve into a shuddering groan as your walls clench around him, your body squeezing him in a slick, greedy rhythm. You bite your bottom lip, catching the camera’s gaze with a sultry grin—your voice dropping to a low, instructional purr.  

“Next one’s called...the swirl.” 

And then you demonstrate—your hips twisting in slow, hypnotic spirals, muscles fluttering tight around him in a way that wrings a filthy, wet sound from where you’re joined. Eren’s grip turns vicious—his cock throbbing inside you as your folds suck him deeper with every sinuous roll.  

“Goddamn, Bunny. Just like that. Shit.”  

His head is tilting back, groaning as he drags the words out.

Your breath hitches, but you keep going—grinding down in relentless circles, your body milking him with every motion as the camera captures every obscene shlick of your arousal coating him. Your hips continue their sinuous swirl, fingertips skimming the hard planes of his chest before crawling up to cradle the back of his neck possessively.  

“This is your chance to dominate.”

Eren's head stays tilted back, his hunter-green eyes locked onto yours—jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle twitch. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his cock twitching as your folds clench in another deliberate, milking squeeze.  

“Hell—" he grunts out, fingers digging into your hips, “That feels too fuckin’ good.”   

“Yeah?" 

“Yeah.” 

And you smile, rolling your hips in another filthy, slower, perfect circle.

Your gaze locks onto the camera as you plant your feet firmly on the sofa—tightening your thighs around his hips as your fingers drag lower, tracing the hard ridges of his abs with deliberate admiration.  

"And this—" you breathe, “—Is probably your man’s favorite. The expert cowgirl. Where you let him use you to his strength... his advantage."

Your eyes flick down to Eren, lashes fluttering as you coo, “My man’s so strong—‘can fuck me any way he wants to."*  

The second those words leave your lips, Eren’s grip shifts—his hands sliding beneath your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin of your ass as he takes control, tugging you down onto his cock with a slow, purposeful bounce. 

“This—ooh!—this’ll also hit your spots if you let it—" 

You gasp, your words fracturing as his tip drags directly over that spongey sweet spot inside you. Your eyes roll slightly—a giggle bubbling up as you try to suppress the shiver of pleasure that ripples through you.  

"That’s it," he rasps, his grip tightening as he drives you down harder, faster.

“Take it. Take it. Squeezin’ me just fuckin’ right.” 

Your thighs tremble—your folds fluttering around him as he uses you exactly how he wants, his cock pistoning into that perfect, blissful spot with every snap of his hips.  

“Eren—" you whimper, your control slipping—your body melting under the weight of his dominance.  

“Nuh uh,” he grunts, “Feel it.” 

Your fingers slide helplessly over the thick ridges of his biceps beneath you—and that’s when a real, broken whimper claws its way out of your throat, voice trembling as you gasp,  

“F—Feels too—mmph!—too good—" 

Eren’s response is a rough, impatient tch—his grip tightening as he growls, “You ain’t been enjoyin’ yourself enough. Hold onto me.” 

At those words? Your head lolls back, your body going pliant against him as he pounds you—his powerful thighs driving you up and down his cock in slow, devastating bounces that leave your vision hazy. Your nails dig into his forearms—your whine pitching higher, dissolving into a slurred “Mmmphfuh—!" as your words fail you completely.  

“I c—can’t think.” 

And that’s when you see it—that untamed, rough-edged side of him that follows him everywhere. The country boy who doesn’t ask, just takes—who fucks you with the same effortless dominance he carries in every other part of his life. His hands slide up to your waist, fingers bruising as he lifts you—then drops you back onto his cock with a filthy, wet slap, his hips driving up to meet you.  

“Don’t gotta think," he rasps—voice dark, mean with desire. 

“Just keep takin’ it.” 

Eren's hands lock around your hips like steel bands—his thick cock splitting you open with every brutal, upward thrust. This ain't riding anymore. This is him fucking you—claiming you—his deep southern drawl rumbling against your ear as he takes over your lesson with rough, possessive authority. 

“Last one, baby. My fuckin' favorite—the Noise Complaint.”

And God, you understand why he named it that the second his powerful thighs flex beneath you. His grip is absolute—those big, rough hands lifting your entire body with terrifying ease before slamming you back down onto his cock in slow, devastating drops. The sound is obscene—a wet, rhythmic clap of skin-on-skin that echoes off the walls, punctuated by your broken little “Ah! Ah! Ah!" with every bounce.

It’s everything that defines him—raw, unfiltered, dominance, that arrogance dialed to eleven. Clap after clap after clap—skin slapping against skin in a rhythm so loud it dares the neighbors to complain.  

“Hear that?" Eren growls, “That’s the shit I wanna hear.”

You're sobbing now—pathetic, high-pitched whines of “E—Eren!" tumbling from your swollen lips as your body betrays you, clamping down on him in helpless pleasure. 

“Take your reward for bein' such a good fuckin’ teacher.” 

Your fingers clutch at his forearms, desperation creeping into your voice as you whimper, “Baby, please—‘wanna cum in my favorite position...” 

“‘Thought it was my birthday, huh?” 

But you give him those eyes—the ones that always make him cave—your lower lip trembling as you hiccup, “Please?"

It’s almost adorable—the way you beg, your tits bouncing with every ragged breath, those big, pleading eyes. How could he say no? 

“Face first, ass up—now.” 

You scramble to obey—arching your back sexily, pressing your flushed face into the sofa cushions as you present yourself for him. The contrast is stark—your small frame dwarfed beneath his towering body, your curves trembling as you wait.  

Eren’s gaze flickers to the camera—“‘She knows how she submits in this position," he rumbles, gripping his cock at the base as he watches your folds drip for him. He drags the thick head of his dick against you, taunting you as he growls—

“Only givin’ it to you if you take all of me—no fussin’." 

You bite your lip—your fingers clenching the cushions—before spreading yourself wider for him, your voice a sweet, breathless whimper. 

“Won’t fuss... ‘promise."

His thick thumb presses down on the small of your back, forcing your spine into a deeper arch as he spreads your folds wider with his free hand. 

“All of it," he grunts—and then he sinks into you all at once, his heavy cock stretching you to the limit in one relentless push.  

You groan—a high, desperate whimper tearing from your throat as your pussy makes a wet pfft sound around him. He doesn’t let you adjust—just tugs halfway out before slamming back in, the sudden stretch making you sob adorably into the cushions.  

Again.  

Again. 

Again.  

Over and over—until the pleasure borders on discomfort, his thick shaft dragging against your walls with brutal precision.  

“Fuck," Eren curses—his voice rough as he starts bouncing you on his cock, your hips gripped tight in his hands.

“Always so fuckin’ tight.” 

His groans deepen—low, drawn-out, almost pained—as your slickness coats him completely. 

“Goddamn, you’re drownin’ me—“ he pants, hips stuttering as your pussy squelches around him with every thrust. He’s not even lifting you anymore—just pounding into you over and over, your cries turning into sweet, broken sobs as you drag his name out pitifully, “E—Erennn.” 

His breath comes jagged—his own control slipping—as he mutters again, “Fuck—you’re so wet—" 

And then—with one final, punishing thrust—he buries himself fully inside you, his hips flush against your ass.  

That’s when he moans—really moans—his voice slurring. 

“Fuhhhhckkk.” 

You whimper back—slurring messily, your words barely coherent as you press your forehead into the cushions. 

His thrusts slow as he angles his hips just right, grinding the thick head of his cock against that spot once more. 

“C'mon," he growls, voice rough with urgency, his grip tightening on your hip—“Get it out. Wanna feel you drench me—make a fuckin' mess." 

He yanks himself out, his cock glistening with your slick as he fists himself hard, head tipping back with a jagged groan.  

The sudden emptiness makes you whine—but before you can protest, his palm cracks against your ass hard, the sharp sting forcing another sob from your lips.  

“Rub that clit," he orders, his voice dark with command—“Don't stop 'til you squirt all over me." 

Your thighs tremble violently as your fingers fly to your swollen clit, circling desperately—your entire body tensing as pleasure coils too tight, too much— 

"’Ren—‘M—gonna—!" you wail, your voice breaking into a sweet, shattered sob.  

He groans—filthy and approving—his strokes on his own cock speeding up as he watches you unravel.  

“I know,” he rasps, his green eyes burning with lust. 

“Do it. Cover me." 

Your back arches violently as your climax explodes out of you—a gushing, uncontrollable flood that soaks his thighs, the sofa, everything—your pussy pulsing around nothing as you scream his name.  

Eren growls, his own release hitting him just as hard—thick ropes of cum painting your trembling ass as he groans through gritted teeth.  

“Good fuckin’ job, Bunny.”

Your body shudders as the last waves of your climax begin to ebb—but then, without warning, a different kind of release crashes over you. Soft, warm tears spill down your cheeks, catching you by surprise that you quickly wipe your face. It’s not just pleasure anymore—it’s something deeper, more needed, like your body finally surrenders to the intensity of everything you just felt.  

Eren notices immediately.  

“C'mere," he murmurs, his voice suddenly tender as he pulls you against him, ignoring the mess between you both. His large hands cradle your face, thumbs brushing away your tears as he tucks you into the safety of his chest.  

His fingers slide into your braids, stroking gently—his lips pressing against your temple in slow, soothing kisses as he whispers, “You did so fuckin’ good." 

You cling to him, your breath hitching as the last tremors of emotion—and pleasure—rush through you. His warmth, his scent, the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath your ear—it all grounds you, wrapping you in a cocoon of safety.  

“I got you,” he rumbles, “Always do.” 

Your body melts into him, boneless and spent as you curl your arms around his neck and tuck your face against his skin—hiding from the camera’s gaze, suddenly shy despite everything you’ve just shared. Eren chuckles—a deep, knowing sound—his fingers tracing idle circles against your lower back.  

“‘Never done that before,” he muses, voice rough with amusement—but there’s no teasing in it. Just warmth.  

You don’t answer—just nuzzle deeper into him, your breaths slow and steady against his chest. And like always, he adjusts—his knees bending slightly to give you what you need, his frame curling around yours protectively.  

But then—his phone rings.  

Eren tenses—his head lifting with a frustrated suck to his teeth—but before he can dismiss it, you murmur, “Might be your Korean investors, baby… take it." 

He exhales through his nose.  

"Fuckin’ timin’.”

His lips linger against your temple—warm and rough—before he rises from the sofa, his towering frame momentarily blocking the camera’s view. You curl your knees to your chest, still glistening with sweat, your wide, round eyes tracing his every movement—the way his muscles shift beneath his tattooed skin, the way his damp hair clings to the back of his neck.  

“Got me on international fuckin’ hold," he grumbles, glancing back at you with a smirk.  

A weak, breathless smile tugs at your lips.

But then your gaze sharpens, studying him—the way dominance radiates off him even now, the handsomeness etched into every sharp angle of his face—and something tender swells in your chest.  

"Need me to translate when they pick up?" you offer softly, tilting your head.  

His green eyes narrow—defensive. 

“What you tryin’ to say?" 

“That my Korean’s better than yours." 

He grabs your discarded top off the floor, entirely dismissing your insult—“Put this on," he orders, tossing it toward you.  

You catch it lazily, shrugging. 

“Not like they didn’t just watch me—"

“Bunny." 

His voice drops—a warning.  

You sigh dramatically but relent, sliding the fabric over your head as he steps closer. His fingers brush your nipples through the material—rough, possessive—before he cups your chin, kissing you briefly, firmly. 

A command, not a request.  

You don’t kiss back—just nod with another sigh, letting him suck your bottom lip once more before he pulls away, already striding out of frame. 

You tie the strings of your top back into place, smoothing the fabric down with a soft, playful smile toward the camera—your cheeks still flushed, curls tousled from Eren’s hands.  

“Hope y’all enjoyed fanmail," you hum, "It’s always fun answering your questions.”

Behind you, Eren’s deep voice rumbles in Korean—Yes, I understand. I’ll contact you after reviewing the contract again. 

You glance over just in time to see him staring directly at you—chin lifted, green eyes gleaming with challenge—as he over-enunciates each syllable, chest puffed with pride.  

You roll your eyes hard, fighting a grin as you turn back to the camera and whisper, “He’s been studying as you can tell.” 

For the next few minutes, you chat sweetly with the camera—rambling about random things, laughing as you adjust the camera angle—until Eren reappears, a rare, broad grin splitting his face.  

“They doubled the investment,” he announces, voice thick with satisfaction.  

Your hands clap together, “That’s huge, baby! I knew they’d love you.”

“Let’s celebrate,” he rumbles, already striding toward the kitchen—“‘You hungry?" 

You nod eagerly, rubbing your arms as you follow his movements—watching as he pulls open the fridge, muscles flexing under the dim kitchen lights.  

“Could make spicy pork stir-fry," he muses, glancing at you—“Or that creamy garlic shrimp you like. Maybe both."

You rest your head on your knees, watching him move through the kitchen with that effortless, masculine grace.

“Whatever your heart desires, birthday boy." 

His shoulders tense slightly—the way they always do when he’s deep in thought, jaw locked tight. You notice it instantly.  

“Mon chéri," you say softly in Creole, voice a gentle hum beneath the sizzle of the pan—"Défroncé to mâchoire—li plen de tension."

Unclench your jaw—it’s full of tension. 

“‘Force of habit.”

“You’d think you were always unhappy,” you warily murmur—which he hears of course. 

Eren pauses.

“Why wouldn’t I be happy here with you?" he counters gruffly, not looking up—but you hear it, the defensiveness. 

“‘Just wanna pick your brain," you admit, tracing idle circles on your knee—“Feels like if I don’t...I lose you a little." 

Eren stills. Then, finally, he turns—his green eyes meeting yours, really meeting them, as he sets the knife down.  

“Alright," he rumbles, “Pick, then.” 

You let out a slow sigh, chewing your bottom lip as you search for the right words—your fingers twisting together in your lap. 

“We’ve been in St. Lucia for a while now,” you start, “After everything—the chaos, the traveling, the proposal,” Your lips curl into a soft smile at the memory—"I’m so happy here, ‘Ren. It’s everything I never knew I needed. But..." 

Your throat tightens—because the unspoken thing hangs between you, heavy and undeniable.  

“…I just need to know you’re happy too," you finally say, fingers pressing into your knees—“That nothing’s...disappointed you.  

Eren’s expression darkens—not in anger, but in fierce disagreement as he steps closer, crowding your space, his rough palms cupping your face.  

“Listen t’ me," he rumbles, “There’s nothin’ more I could ask for. You—this—us—" His thumb swipes at your mouth, “You’re my fuckin’ world, woman.”

You press your forehead to his, closing your eyes as you exhale softly—nodding as you whisper, “Okay." 

His hands grip your hips roughly, lifting you just enough to smack your ass—the sharp crack making your body jump as he growls, “Let's have some fun, yeah?"

A soft laugh bubbles up in your throat, but before you can respond, he’s already moving—grabbing a glass, rummaging through the fridge.  

“Want me to make you a drink?" he offers, half-turned toward you, already reaching for a bottle of rum.  

You shake your head, “You're an amazing cook, baby—not the best bartender. ‘M fine." 

“Oh?" His head snaps towards you, “So now my drinks ain’t good enough?" 

He turns back towards the fridge grabbing fresh fruit, mint, and crushed ice.  

“Gonna’ make you eat those words," he mutters—but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. 

You grab the camera, following him into the kitchen with quiet steps—propping it up at the perfect angle to capture this moment. The lens frames him perfectly—his broad shoulders, the way his muscles flex as he bends into the fridge, rummaging for ingredients. You press yourself against his back, molding your body into the warmth of his frame, breathing him in.  

Eren chuckles—a low, rumbling sound—before reaching his arm back, large hand cradling your head gently. He tilts his face toward yours, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss.  

"Love you too," he murmurs against your mouth before pulling away, returning to his mission—citrus fruit in hand, determined to prove his bartending skills.   

“I’m really okay without a drink," you say softly.  

Eren immediately shoots you a frown. 

“We’ve been in St. Lucia for a month," he points out, voice dripping with faux sadness—“And you haven’t drank with me in two whole weeks. What’s goin’ on, huh? I thought you loved me?” 

“Pregnant women can’t drink, baby." 

Eren freezes. 

His hands still—mid-squeeze of a lime—juice dripping forgotten onto the counter.  

Slowly, he turns—his green eyes locking onto yours, darker than you’ve ever seen them.  

“Bunny," he says—just that—his voice a growl, rough with shock.  

You nod—shuddering out a nervous giggle—your fingers twisting together.  

“…Yeah." 

And then—his hands are on you, cupping your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as his forehead presses to yours—his breath uneven.  

“Fuck," he rasps—and for the first time in years, Eren Yeager sounds shaken.

“How long?" he rasps, voice rough with emotion.

You bite your lip, exhaling shakily. 

“Remember... when we first got here?” you murmur, brushing your thumbs over his wrists, “I cried because I wanted dragonfruit—and you scoured the whole island trying to find one?" 

A slow realization flickers in his eyes—because you don’t crave things like that. Not randomly. Not desperately. 

“…I knew something was off then," you admit softly, “Took a test a few days later...and I—" Your voice cracks slightly, “I didn’t believe it. ‘Thought I was seeing things. So I waited. ‘Took another one. And another." 

Eren’s jaw clenches—his breathing uneven—but you can see it in his eyes, the way his mind races, piecing together every moment, every mood swing, every sign.

“I’m sorry," you whimper, pressing your forehead harder against his, “I was so scared it was a false positive—‘didn’t want you to get your hopes up just for it to be nothing." 

His grip shifts—one hand sliding down to press against your stomach, his palm huge against you, like he’s already trying to feel what’s growing there. 

“When the doctors told me I was possibly infertile…it terrified me—not just because of what it meant for us, but because... I realized how much I wanted this. How much I wanted your baby." 

A tear slips free, trailing down your cheek as you continue, words spilling out in a fragile rush—  

“But Korea’s so far from home, ‘Ren. All our family’s back in New Orleans, and I—" Your breath hitches, “I want my momma through this. I want her with me when I’m scared, when I don’t know what’s happening to my body. I wanna be home. But I also don’t wanna be away from you—not for a single second of this.” 

Your throat tightens, another wave of fear crashing over you—  

“And our supporters... our careers... I’m scared of shutting ourselves away from the love we’ve built. I just don’t wanna feel alone—“

“Stop," he orders, voice raw with conviction, “Stop worryin’—right fuckin’ now. You hear me?" 

His grip tightens, eyes burning into yours—  

“I’d burn down whole goddamn countries for you. For this baby. You wanna go home? We’re goin’.You want your momma? I’ll carry her ass to Korea myself. You scared of bein’ alone? Not happenin’—not as long as I’m breathin’." 

A shuddering little cry escapes you—but Eren doesn’t let you crumble. He crushes you to his chest, his heartbeat thundering against your ear as he rasps—  

“You’re mine. This baby’s mine. Not distance, careers, not anythin’ will stop me from takin’ care of you.”

You mewl “I love you" against his lips in a tearful, trembling kiss—his mouth crashing into yours with a devotion so deep, it vibrates through your entire body. The heat of his hands cradling your face—every touch radiates pure, unfiltered love.  

Pulling back slightly, you turn your watery gaze toward the camera, your damp lashes fluttering as Eren ducks his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply—like he’s memorizing your scent, grounding himself in you.  

“We’re having a baby," you beam, voice thick with emotion, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand.  

Eren lifts his head, eyes locking onto the camera—determined, possessive—before he gruffly murmurs, “Y’all been with us through everything. ‘No way we go through this without you. Expect more content—a lot more." 

Your breath catches—“You sure?" you whisper, searching his face.  

He nods without hesitation, “‘Only want you happy, Bunny.” 

And then—without warning—you launch yourself into him, legs wrapping around his waist as you giggle, “We’re having a babyyy!” 

Eren grunts as he catches you effortlessly, a playful growl rumbling in his chest as he clutches your body tight—“Let’s go see if we can get you pregnant twice.” 

Niesha

favorite foods: tofu, crab stuffed salmon, broccoli, veggie burgers, coconut, shrimp, any type of rice (she’s teetered between being vegan, pescatarian and vegetarian for years!) cauliflower wings, blueberry waffles, lemon pound cake (her one vice)

favorite colors: purple, gray, cerulean blue, dark green, gold

favorite shows: Girlfriends, Living Single, Martin, Baddies (evb thinks she needs to audition atp ☠️), anything on HGTV, P Valley, College Hill, any Lifetime movies

favorite music/artists: cardi b (she loves her down), megan the stallion, sexxy red, Glorilla, Rico Nasty, bktherula, bbyMutha, TiaCorine, Denzel Curry, thirteendegrees, Chief Keef, Kevin Gates, old school Lil Wayne, Young Nudy, Mac Miller (her fav of all time tbh), her guilty pleasure is country and she loves Luke Combs, Chris Stapleton, Dolly Parton, Tim McGraw, Tanner Adell + Shania Twain 😭

fun facts about her: she was the youngest competitor + winner ever in the history of the Bonner Brothers hair show. She painted small murals in every room of her house with different themes, including fish + the ocean in her bathroom. Her favorite hairstyle to do on others and herself is a mullet. She used to do makeup to earn her own money in school and would make $300+ a week (my sis always had motion ☠️). She is also a Disney adult and keeps her seasonal pass on her!

quirks + flaws: my girl is a crashout when provoked (and it used to not take much.). She doesn’t like her food touching so she’ll have four separate bowls for one meal before they do. Despite being a creative/stylist, Niesha is a neat freak! She hates mess and will put you out if you cause one. Her and Armin always said that they wouldn’t tell anyone when they got married, they’d just elope and then pop back up with a ton of photos from a beach somewhere bc their moms would be too in the mix for them to enjoy the wedding planning! She doesn’t like to think on things too much.

Libra

favorite foods: French + Cajun cuisine, etoufee, gumbo, boiled peanuts, crawfish; Japanese food (she LOVES ramen), any type of sushi, wagyu steak, katsu chicken + curry. Açaí bowls are her fav and she loves any type of fresh fruit. Also, oxtails are her biggest weakness, esp. when she’s dieting/hardcore working out.

favorite colors: red, black, orange + yellow

favorite shows: Any Studio Ghibli movies, Naruto, Bleach, Castlevania (she loves just anime + anything fantasy), Game of Thrones, Black Lightning, Supernatural, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Charmed, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Totally Spies + Bratz, Hamilton or anything Broadway

favorite artists/music: Whitney Houston (that is her ALL time fav, it cannot be changed), Pierce the Veil, Green Day, KoRn, Monaleo, Cardi B, Doja Cat, Megan, Webbie, Three Days Grace, SZA, Lady Gaga, Adele, TLC, Michael + Janet Jackson, Sade, Al Green, Marvin Gaye, Chaka Khan, New Edition, Jodeci, Tupac, Latto, Muni Long, Brandy, Jasmine Sullivan, VickeeLo

fun facts about her: she actually stripped to put herself through college (her folks were in the military but she had gone no contact atp) + ace worked at the same club as a bartender. Her + Ace ride motorcycles and she’s really good at it. She used to do marathon running and competed in her first one at 21. Libra used to be a choir + theater kid and she doesn’t beat the allegations sometimes LMAO. She knows full sign language (which she learned bc her younger sister is partially deaf), in addition to four other languages fluently. She knows how to survive out in wilderness by foraging, fishing, treating wounds with meds made from plants, etc. Her accent is very strong at times, esp. when she’s mad. She is very neurodivergent + on the autism spectrum but a lot of ppl don’t believe her bc of her appearance.