#mcontent

YOU SQUEEZED YOUR EYES at the sudden rush of unpleasant wind. It causes you to shiver involuntarily. The nightfall is peaceful and comfortably silent, safe for the faint cracking of wood under the fire that is lit in the middle. Its soft glow, too, is the only source of light besides the pale moon up in the sky. It provides you with warmth, but barely enough to relax your alert muscles— that is, until you feel a pair of strong arms wrapping around you from behind. You don’t need to glance back. His cologne, his touch and the homely warmth radiating off his body tells you that it’s him. Your boyfriend. No words are exchanged between you, probably because you’re both tired of the long day or maybe you just don’t need to. You don’t mind that. Slowly, your stiff muscles begin to relax.

Besides you and Floch Foster, everyone is already cozily tucked in for the night in their tents. Your eyes too are heavy with an undeniable exhaustion, almost begging for that comfort of a warm blanket inside your shelter, but there’s something strangely unwinding out in the open. Amidst the silence, you can hear the soft beating of your heart, combined with his; and without looking at him, you can tell that he’s just as tired. Tomorrow’s an important day, for you, for all the Jaegerists, and perhaps it had gotten both of you on edge. In a good way.

You crane your neck, (e/c) locking with his. They’re half lidded. “You should head in.” You say, almost whisper, subconsciously being mindful of the late hour to not disturb people around you.

Especially not your leader, whose tent is to your left. You know he doesn’t sleep much, if at all. The dark bangs under his eyes, the occasional shuffling around his tent at night and all the disposable, empty cups of coffee sprawled unorganized around his space tells you as much. The first time you had been in there had been last night when he had asked you for another cup— you weren’t his servant, you told him that, but obliged to his request regardless with a ghost of a smile on your lips.

Floch sighs. “You’re not coming?”

You wanted to. It had been a while since you’ve been able to rest peacefully in your lover’s arms. Last night hadn’t gone that well, with you shifting around the woods to find a safer location, maybe some of you were just paranoid, but you couldn’t blame them. If you were going to rest out in the open, you had to be cautious. But the crisp air of the evening and the faint smell of burning wood is too tempting to get up and leave just yet. You want to savor this moment of false peace.

Regardless, you nod. “I’ll be there in a bit.” You ensured, your lips leaning closer to place a chaste kiss on his cheek.

He smiles. “‘Kay, g’night.” It’s a gentle one, so unlike him. To be able to see this soft side of him that he only ever shows to you, you feel like the luckiest woman alive. You love him. More than you could ever express with words.

The smile lingers on your own lips even when his footsteps have faded completely, leaving you all alone. As much as you love his presence, you find comfort in the solitude as well.

Your mind wanders, contemplating the future in times like these. To you, it had always seemed dull and hopeless, but that changed when you saw him that night. The bone chilling growl that erupted through the festival, the ruthlessness of how he stomped on people, uncaring who got killed in the process, the unmerciful eyes, full of rage and conviction. You knew he was the one. That night, you had seen your savior. The only one who could liberate Eldia. It made you realize what salvation looked like. For first time and amidst all the destruction, you saw beauty. Eren Jaeger.

You saw your God.

An unexpected clank made you flinch, heart almost beating out of your chest, but it wasn’t anything to be worried about. You could tell that in an instant. Thoughts subsiding, you crane your neck to find its source, realizing that it was his tent. Something must’ve fallen, sounded like a cup, but you still got up from your position. To make sure that he was fine before you’d head in for the night yourself.

You couldn’t knock on a tent, so instead, you call out his name while you subtly decided to peek, hoping that you won’t be breaching his privacy. It made you feel like an idiot to be to behave like this; all the while making yourself believe that you were concerned to justify acting like a damn busybody. But when it was about him, all rationality seemed to bid you farewell.

“Jaeger?”

Your voice is hushed, a whisper, but loud enough for catch his attention. Its dark inside. His striking teal eyes catches yours through the small opening, and despite their vibrant color, they appear dull. He’s in the corner, on the edge of the makeshift mattress with his legs parted unholily and a naked chest.

To say that you weren’t the slightest intimidated of him would not be a lie at all. He’s ruthless, relentless, and could probably kill you without batting an eye— yeah, that’s how most people perceived him. And maybe he was, but you’d be gladly offering up your life if it benefitted the cause. You knew he had reasons. A vision. His actions weren’t random nor for the sake of amusement, neither to oppress people, it was to bring freedom. He was a pillar of your hope, the only hope you had in this cruel world. How could you ever be terrified of a man with such noble cause?

“I heard something. I- uh, just wanted to make sure that you’re alright.” You continue, the slight awkwardness apparent in your voice, but you chose to ignore it. Most of his followers wouldn’t check up on him like this either, but you chose to ignore that as well.

Turquoise eyes are settled on you, watching you with an unabashed disinterest, but you feel like that’s not all. He has something to say, he wants to say, besides the answer he might give to your concerned words.

“‘Was nothing. I knocked something over.” He replies huskily, upholding the unwavering eye contact.

You nod, trailing off. “Alright.”

There’s a moment of pure awkwardness, where you definitely should’ve left but you’re left standing there, unsure yourself. Almost as if you’re feet are buried in the ground, deeming you incapable of such action. In your defense, Eren shows no indication of objections either. He simply stares you, perhaps expecting you to say something, since you’re the one who’s not turning around.

The darkness had adjusted to yours eyes, enabling you to take of notice of how his small bangs, or more like a few loose strands of hair, were resting on his forehead. Those big, expressive eyes were narrowed, lidded and exhausted, maybe from the lack of sleep, but you doubted that. Your gaze trails, down his contoured cheekbones, his plump lips and sharp jaw, and you stop to re-catch his eyes. All the while, he is completely still, not a muscle moving.

Whatever trance you might’ve been finally ends once your gazes collide. Only a few seconds had passed— you’re thankful, because you didn’t intend to stare at him like that, and certainly not for more than small seconds that can be ignored, but it seemed longer than that. Sometimes, you can’t help the admiration that flows through your eyes when you look at him, and your desire to watch him, analyze him, know him overtakes you before you can reason with yourself to not to.

“Well then, good night.” You give him a curt nod.

He doesn’t reply and you don’t care.

You had turned around to take your leave when you heard his voice cutting through the air, your name slipping from his mouth like honey. It’s low, sounds tired, almost desperate in a way.

“(Y/n).”

It echoes in your head— once, twice, thrice.

“(Y/n)?” He repeats, a bit firmer, pulling you out of the momentarily daze.

Clearing your throat softly, you spoke up. “Yeah? Sorry, uh, I kinda spaced out.”

Eren hums. “Come in.”

You arch an eyebrow at the invitation, or rather, the demand from the sound of it. Without knowing the exact time, you know it’s late, probably around one or two. It’s not an ideal time to discuss the future of Eldia or to revise your plans for the upcoming events, and as much as you’re devoted to the cause, you’re not sure how much attention you’d be able to pay if that’s what he had in mind. In all honesty, you wanted to head to bed, right there and then, but you couldn’t do that without even knowing what he had in mind.

Taking a step inside his tent, you look awkwardly at him, not sure whether you should be standing in this corner or take a few steps closer to look a tad more confident in your approach. Perhaps you were just overthinking at this point, paying too much attention to the minuscule details that you otherwise wouldn’t have given a second thought to. And Eren isn’t helping with his silence either.

“Yeah?” You speak up when he doesn’t, both of your eyebrows slightly raised in a questioning manner.

Eren stares at you, taking in your appearance; your hair is tied up in a messy bun, eyes filled with exhaustion, and as his gaze trails down, he notices how perfect your lips look, even in the complete darkness that his tent offered. It bothers him. He’s not sure whether the lack of light or you are the cause of it, and so he opts to at least eliminate one of these things. Leaning slightly forward, he lights the candle on the makeshift nightstand beside his mattress, all the while noticing how you’re watching him with raised eyebrows from the corner of his eye.

“You gonna stand in that corner all night?” He asks, pushing back and adjusting the candle, before meeting your eyes.

The subtle glow of the candlelight illuminates your features. Unintentionally, Eren finds himself staring this time. Your (e/c) eyes are shinning, so beautifully, but the familiar barrier between him is stopping him from drowning in them completely. He can’t put it into words, and he absolutely hates it. The second his gaze lowers towards your lower face, there’s nothing in particular running through his mind— maybe his head is completely empty, solely focused on the way your lips curves when you speak. Then there’s a familiar sensation, an itch in his pants that he tries to ignore.

“Probably, unless you tell me why ‘m here.”

He pats the space next to him on the mattress. “It’s about tomorrow. I want you to take care of arrangements in Shiganshina.”

Obliging to his request, you move forward and take the empty space beside him, your eyebrows scrunching together slightly at his words.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that Eren rarely gave orders; he did what he had to, and the rest of the people just followed him with no specific directions. Most of the time, it was Floch who had taken the role of the leader. Without consulting Eren, had begun to call himself his representative as well. Though Eren didn’t seem to mind that. For someone leading the opposition and overthrowing the government, his behavior lacked that of dictatorship, it was too casual and easy-going, unlike many would assume.

You hummed. “What exactly?”

“The prison cells should be prepared and keep an eye on any traitors.”

He’s facing you as he speaks, teal eyes hiding behind the fluttering of his lashes ever so often. The closeness is not overwhelming, but it’s definitely the closest you have ever seen him.

“Alright.” You say, the eagerness of getting these things done subtly laced in yours voice.

Eren loves it. The devotion you have to this cause, to him. It makes him tick— a strange wave of feelings overtaking his senses, filling his mind with that hazy fog that he’s not familiar with. He would’ve said that he loathes it, everything that you make him feel, but his curiosity stops him from complaining. His distaste aside, he wants to understand. Wants to know the flame that you ignite in him, that sets him on fire internally. And there it is again, the feeling rising between his legs, almost uncomfortably.

“You’re staring again.” Eren points out, rightfully so.

Yet he’d still complain. His mind would try to play tricks on him, would hunt for something, anything, to get rid of these feelings. To make himself believe that he was better than this. That he had far greater things to worry about that pointless chest ache, one he often got around you. Especially when you’d.. his thoughts trail off, not allowing himself to further let the endless pit swallow him.

Instead, he focuses on the subtle reddening of your cheeks. Your uneasiness, that embarrassment is quite apparent on your face. Perhaps he had caught you off guard, once again, and you had an annoying habit of spacing out in the most inconvenient of times. Whether it was your tiredness or his presence, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“I- uh, ‘m tired.” You stutter, hoping to not sound as stupid as you felt at least. “Guess I spaced out again.” You meet his gaze momentarily while speaking but avert it to save yourself from further unnecessary embarrassment.

Little did you know that Eren had no interest in taking pleasure in your discomfort, he didn’t care at all. His attention was elsewhere. Jade eyes scanned your face, and he stares while asking himself why. You’re not someone he has known for long, definitely not someone from 104th Cadet Corps, or anyone he had ever paid attention, or even seen before you decided to rebel against the government. How could someone, someone nothing more than an acquaintance, have such an effect on him? It’s driving him nuts. He’s helpless.

“I’ll see you in the morning then.” You say, deciding to head to bed yourself. You had told Floch you’d be there soon.

But when you leave slightly forward in an attempt to get up from the mattress, Eren catches the perfect view of the swell of your breasts that peeks from the top of your shirt. His gaze lingers for slightly longer than he would’ve liked, and it makes him realize. Whatever he’s feeling for you, it’s this. A simple urge. You’re undeniably attractive and Eren hadn’t had a good fuck in a while. Ever since you walked in, he had been ignoring that subtle uneasiness, but now, he can feel the small tent forming in his pants that would become too painful soon.

He could jack off and relieve himself, but once he’d have his way with you, you’d stop plaguing his mind. Because you were just that. Or so he thought at least. And so, before you could take another step, his hand mindlessly stretches forward and grabs your wrist.

You stop and turn your head. “What?”

Teal eyes look lazily into yours. “Stay.”

The confusion must’ve been apparent on your face. An eyebrow raising, you silently wait for him to elaborate, but all he gives you is an intense stare, which is not very comprehensive.

“What do you-“

Before you could finish your sentence, Eren harshly tugs on your hand. It causes you to jolt forward, your palms resting flat on his shoulders as you tried not to lose your balance and fall face-first on top of him. His naked skin is warm against your fingertips, and in such proximity, you can feel the rhythmic beating of his heart. Slowly, your eyes trail up to meet his. He’s keeping that unwavering eye contact, not bothered in the slightest. You’re not appalled by your current state, but you’re not pleased with it either.

“I need your help.” He elaborates at last in a raspy voice.

Before you could question what he meant, you feel his hardness pressing against your lower region. Suddenly, it makes you much more aware of your surroundings, almost pitifully. His earthy scent is infiltrating your senses; it’s a mixture of strong sandalwood, a hint of vanilla with his slightly sweaty natural musk, that’s too intoxicating to think straight. It’s also, then, you realize, that you’re almost sitting on his lap with your arms around his shoulders.

“Oh.”

That’s all you manage to say, and you notice the way he raises his eyebrow in question, probably not having been expecting such a response. Some would get on the edge, uneasy in such a position, while others could definitely feel themselves get wet with the way Eren Jaeger’s beautiful eyes were staring almost desperately. But you didn’t know which of those you felt. Maybe little to nothing, besides trying to block how his powerful scent is abusing your senses.

With everything going on, you figured he’d rarely have the time you relieve himself or to find someone to release that stress. Since silence and a harsh stare is all he’s offering, much to your annoyance, you take it upon yourself to speak up through the thick atmosphere he has created.

“Well go ahead.”

This time, Eren raises both of his eyebrows, almost looking amused. Partially puzzled even, perhaps. He wouldn’t have imagined you to agree without second thoughts, though he doesn’t complain. His hands, resting on your hips, tightens their grip, as a final reminder that there wasn’t going to be a way out of this now.

You don’t mind that.

His breath fans your face when he tugs you forward, faces almost colliding yet there’s a small distance between your lips. It’s suffocating you, but you don’t pull back. The way his lashes flutter when he glances down at your lips is almost cute, which you notice and study since your eyes are still focused on his. Slightly readjusting your position on his lap, you watch as he leans forward to close the remaining distance but stops. Instead, he meets your gaze with his lust-filled teal orbs.

“Kiss me.”

Your heart skips a beat. The way his low voice, raspy resonates makes the hair stand on the back of your neck. Suddenly, you’re feeling that tiny flicker of unsureness, will you be good enough for him? The question doesn’t linger for long as you find yourself leaning in to close the little gap between your lips. It’s a quick peck, like testing the waters, and you pull back as soon as you had leaned in. The soft texture of his lips is engraved in your mind. It’s intoxicating.

The staring contest between you two is tensed. You mentally curse yourself at your incompetence. Damn. You hate the way it’s making you feel nervous. You’ve never felt like this with Floch or anyone before. Because this nervousness, it’s not the giddiness of arousal or desperation for release, no, it’s sort of horrifying. Like you’re taking that final Cadet Corp exam that would decide whether or not you’re worthy of joining the military.

“‘S all you’ve got?” He taunts, slightly tilting his head, causing slight heat to rise to your face.

Slowly, your hands trail up from his shoulders to cup his cheek. He’s watching you with an indecipherable intent, studying how your eyes are fiery yet there’s a hint of hesitation in them. Soon as your hand meets his face, he leans forward without giving you a chance to even respond. His lips press against yours, forcefully, and it feels like he’s literally trying to take your breath away. And this time, you respond hardly, pouring whatever you had for him in it completely unfiltered.

He tastes like heaven. There’s no other proper word that can describe it. The faint taste of coffee lingers in his mouth, the familiarity of your favorite drink on this unfamiliar sensation making you euphoric. Your fingers are harsh against his cheek, which surprisingly is perfectly smooth and clean shaven. You wonder when he gets the time for that.

Your eyes are closed. So are his. The blindness intensifies your feelings and makes you hyper alert when his tongue sweeps on your bottom lip. It’s hot and wet, and toxic. Were you enjoying his touch or pleasing him? You lacked the sanity to answer that question in that moment. All it takes it a little gasp and his tongue is forcing its way through your mouth, exploring every inch and ounce. There’s desperation in his actions, like an unspoken surrender that you won’t ever talk about. And he’s the one surrendering, with his mind, body and soul.

A low moan escaped your lips at the harshness of his movements and your grip tightens on his shoulder to ground yourself. You can’t let go of the little sanity you have left. He pulls back, lips pink and wet, so completely disheveled. Gaze finding yours, he stares through lidded eyes. Your breath in, finally intaking that breath that you had been holding it. Had it been longer, you surely would’ve suffocated from the overwhelming heat and the lack of oxygen.

You can’t deny the small awkwardness between you as your subtle pants echoes in the silence. His lips are slightly parted, forehead almost resting against yours. Maybe you should’ve done something, but there’s an uncertainty. It’s annoying you.

Those thoughts are thrown out the window when he dips his head down and latches his mouth on your throat where he can feel your pulse. Its soft thudding goes straight to his chest and flows that light shivery feeling through his limbs. It’s not familiar. Lips trailing just slightly down your neck, his teeth sink into your skin without warning.

“Shit.” You gasp, nails digging in his shoulders, before whispering through uneven breath. “‘S gonna leave a fucking mark.”

Eren hums against your skin, tone firm before his tongue laps to soothe the pain. “Yeah, it will.”

His indifference is making you slightly anxious. You wouldn’t hide this encounter, not at all, but marking your flesh brings another sort of intimacy that you know you won’t ever share with him. You won’t ever be marked without doing so in return and claiming what’s yours as yours. Though the truth is that this isn’t about you at all. It’s about him. You’re doing this for him alone and the still dryness between your legs is its proof.

His teeth graze your untouched skin, causing you to throw your head back and tilt it to the side. It gives him all the access he needs to mark you up. To let everyone know that he’s the one who has touched you and kissed you, and fucked you senselessly in his tent at night. The sense of pride, not only basking in that he’s claiming you, but, too, that you’re one he’s surrendering is ticking him off. You’re not his first fuck and this will be far from love-making— and he absolutely hates the emotions that are coursing through him.

No. This it’s to fulfill his needs, to use you and throw you away like the various disposable cups of coffee he drinks from. This shouldn’t be about you. You’re nothing more than another face in the crowd of people, all there to devote their hearts to his cause. And whatever devotion you might’ve have for him, it doesn’t make you special. You’re not fucking special.

“Take off your clothes.” He demands, murmuring through the tensed air.

The accelerated beating of your heart is threatening to pound out of your chest when he pulls back. There’s absolutely no reason for you to be nervous, but you are. It makes you feel pathetic, pitiful even.

Hands slipping under the hem of your shirt, you slip it off over your head and toss it aside on the floor. The plain black bra is accentuating your breasts, your nipples erect through the fabric because of the cold air that you’re suddenly exposed to. Your hands travel to the waistband of your sweats and unties the knot.

The fabric piles up on the shirt, but Eren’s unwavering gaze is still unrelentingly focused on you. He’s not continuing, he’s waiting.

“Everything off.” He says, his eyes locked with yours.

There’s no doubt in your mind that your cheeks are flushed, the heat rising up alarmingly. You wouldn’t mind taking off your clothes, that’s how people have sex, but doing so while he’s still half-clothed is embarrassing. You would’ve said that it turns you off, and it’s the truth, but that doesn’t say much since you weren’t even aroused to begin with.

Slightly raising your brows, eyes big and questioning, you gesture down towards his pants with your head. “You’re not going to take those off?”

“You want me to?” He asks with indifference, but you don’t miss the amusement behind his dead eyes.

You open your mouth to respond, but close again, unable to gather the will to tell him to strip. With anyone else, you would’ve, but this is not your lover. This wasn’t going to be love-making or a quick one-night stand to blow off your steam, no, you won’t be just fucking him. He’s your savior, your God, and you’d be willing to do anything for him. And you are.

Lucky for you however, Eren notices this. The sound of metal clicking echoes as he unbuckles his belt and piles it on top of your clothes. You watch him, silently, as he unzips his pants and lifts his hips up slightly to pull them off. And soon, they, too, join the pile on the floor. There’s a prominent print on his boxers, his hardened length confined painfully from the looks of it.

Your eyes trail up to meet his again.

“Now take ‘em off.” He sounds lazy.

So, you comply. Your fingers reach back to unhook your bra before pulling the strap off. The fabric slipped off your body and freed your breasts from their confines. Despite that you would’ve expected Eren to be looking at your bare upper half, he’s actually staring at you, in your eyes. You realize that when your gazes meet and you swore you’re heart could’ve stopped from the sheer intensity in those teal irises, all directed unabashedly towards you.

Your chest is subtly heaving, in anticipation and that slight excitement. This is Eren Jaeger after all.

When you lean forward, your hands once again placed on his shoulders, it catches him off guard. A bit at least. Your lips trail along his jaw, peppering it with kisses under the influence of your newly found confidence that God knows where came from. Perhaps it’s finally sinking in— for you, that you’re really here, making out with Eren, upon his request. Or demand, but you prefer the other more. And if that doesn’t make you tick, you don’t know what will. And you absolutely hate the growing warmth between your legs, which perhaps is inevitable at this point.

Eren’s breath hitches, head subconsciously leaning back when your lips began to travel towards his neck. His fingers trail up from your waist and calloused palms generously gropes your breasts, harshly, which causes you to almost whine. It could’ve been your fantasy, because your mind is undoubtedly filled with a haziness, but you do hear a faint chuckle in the air.

Your breath is shallow, lips latched on his skin when you decide against biting him. His smooth skin is too inviting to not to, but still. Who knows? The man might end up turning into a Titan with how worked up you’ve gotten him. Instead, leaning slightly back, you place your palms flat against his chest and push him back on the mattress.

This, too, catches him off guard. Pleasantly, so.

He stares up at you, gaze trailing from your face to your breasts, which he eyes shamelessly with wet, parted lips. When his collides with yours again, you’re looking down at him with that intensity. He isn’t sure how to feel. Just good.

His hands rests on your thighs, a hint of challenge underlying his stare as he studies you.

“I thought I said everything off.” He emphasizes, landing an unexpected smack against the supple flesh of your right thigh.

You curse at the impact, and the unexpectedness of it forces you to hiss, almost moan at the faint sting.

“Quit ordering around, Jaeger.” You say, pretty satisfied with how nonchalant you could sound despite the frightening hammering of your heart.

“Yeah?” He says back, challengingly.

His hands run soothingly over the spot he had slapped. You hated the patience, which both of you impatient people had gathered for some reason.

“I-“

Smack. Another quick and harsh slap lands on your thigh, at the same place, which worsens the sting.

Without warning, his fingers dig into the waistband of your panties. The fabric harshly rips under his grip, in two pieces, which he discards across the room, before gripping your waist. His hardened dick grinds against your heat, maybe even subconsciously, which causes him to let out an unintentional moan of pure pleasure.

Your hands travel down his toned stomach, to his lower abdomen. “You’re awfully hard.”

The teasing, almost mockery is evident in your tone, which causes him to narrow his eyes at you.

“And that’s what you’re here for.”

“Heh, I know-“

The words had barely left your mouth when he pushed you forward. Hissing, you land on top of him, and before you can gain awareness of yourself, Eren has you pinned to the bed. His figure hovers above yours, hands on each side of your head. Once again, the look in his eyes is indecipherable. Sure, they’re filled with raw lust and desire, but something else is underlying which you can’t understand.

The single finger that begins to trail down the valley of breasts, your stomach and lower abdomen, until it reaches your entrance makes you let out a shuddery breath. His touch is warm and inviting, even if it’s just a fingertip barely grazing your skin. It makes you crave him, his touch and company, just not in the way Eren wanted you to.

“Tell me (Y/n).” He whispers, gathering up your juices and teasingly smearing it. You’re not prepared enough, and he doesn’t care. “How would your little boyfriend feel about this?”

“Doesn’t matter.” You reply, mostly a lie. You know exactly how he’d feel, and it does matter.

Eren’s touch disappears from your skin as he retreats his hand and sit up on his knees. He pulls his boxers down enough to reveal his thick, veiny cock. You’re almost staring. The sheer size makes a small shiver run down your spine in nervousness. Even if you’re here, with your consent, it’s impossible for you to feel properly aroused in the situation. Sure, a part of you is, but he’s not Floch and your body can’t give him it all. Or so you believe at least. The thought of taking that with such unpreparedness is slightly frightening.

Your stare makes him raise a questioning eyebrow as he languidly pumps his cock. “Aren’t you a dirty bitch.” He says a bit teasingly since he hadn’t been expecting such indifference.

Maybe he had been wrong about your feelings. Just maybe, there’s a chance.

You bite your lower lip, his words somehow triggering the right nerves in your body. You hate how it quickens your breath, how you fist the sheets in your hands when he lines his cock against your entrance. This is not the time for a proper foreplay after all.

“Does he know?” Eren asks, slowly beginning to push the head of his cock in.

Your grip tightened on the sheets, eyebrows furrowing as your walls tried to resist the intrusion. It fucking hurts. On his face, you see that he doesn’t care if it does, and it makes sense. You shouldn’t care either. Your chest is heaving, a thin sheet of sweat covering your forehead as you tried not to let the tears that has welled up in the corners of your eyes escape. That would be embarrassing.

It’s impossible to form words or speak when he’s splitting you open like that. At least he’s merciful enough to not pound into you without adjusting. You’re sure your knuckles are turning pale, that your face must’ve looked like a mess with your scrunched eyebrows and flushed cheeks. It’s a sight to behold for Eren.

“Does he know, (Y/n)?” He repeats, voice raising as he emphasized tauntingly.

Opening your mouth to speak scares you. You don’t want to end up screaming in pain, or worse, moan. But his tone conveys the message that he needs an answer, right there and then.

“No.” You say, before quickly biting your lip while still keeping that unrelenting grip on the sheets.

Eren chuckles lowly, followed by a low groan as his nails dig into your hips, leaving behind faint marks of crescents on your skin. The feeling is too overwhelming for you as he bottoms out— and at the same time, you taste the familiar metallic of blood from how hard you’ve bitten your lower lip to suppress your sounds. Your breath is shuddering, limbs shaking and palms sweaty from a mixture of pure fucking hurt, the unexpectedness of this entire encounter and the closeness you share with him.

His eyes remained locked with yours, which you are struggling to keep open; closing them would mean that you accepted defeat. What defeat and what game? You weren’t sure of that. Just that you didn’t want to lose it. His teal eyes are almost looking ethereal under the subtle glow of the candlelight, and such closeness enables you to see every scar and linings on his face. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed as he pulls back, still looking at you, almost like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

The composure he’s trying to put on is admirable, but you can easily see through it. The same could be said for yourself however, because as soon as he slams back in, groaning animalistically at the feeling of your tight walls sucking the life out of him, a single tear rolls down your cheek. You’re unaware of it, to focused on the way his hips are snapping against yours. Until he leans down, you assume is to kiss, but instead he’s licking the salty tear off your cheek. It makes you shiver uncontrollably inside.

“Shit-“ You say breathily as he picks up his pace, scared that you’d end up ripping the sheets.

The obscene sounds echo around you, from the slapping of your skin against each other’s, the heavy breaths and pants, and the occasional curses that slips from your mouths.

Your grip tightens, if even possible, when Eren manhandles one of your legs over his shoulder. The new angles send your mind spiraling— he’s fucking hitting all the right spots. It seems that all rationality leaves the moment he starts pounding into you like that, when that pain begins to turn into an overwhelming pleasure that you’ve never experienced before.

And you feel fucking guilty.

Not for fucking him, but for pleasuring from it. This wasn’t supposed to fulfill your desires, Eren Jaeger had never been your desire, but the way he’s making you feel is nothing you even knew of. The way his thick cock drags along your walls, the way his bruising grip is snatching your conscience from your hold and throwing all reasonings out the window. You feel like an idiot.

His lips parted, throwing out mindless profanities in whispers as he searches for his release.

“Fuck, (Y/n)-“ He blurts out your name, in the heat of the moment so erotically, and his voice is raspy as he continues. “Does he fuck you like this?”

You feel dizzy. Like your soul is leaving your body, leaving you completely defenseless underneath him.

Reasonableness is not your privilege anymore.

“I asked you a fucking question.”

His sharp words lead to a bruising thrust, one that makes you moan unintentionally.

“He doesn’t.”

“Tell me.” He begins, his pace never faltering as he continues to fuck you without inhibition. “Have you ever thought of me?” It’s barely a above a whisper.

Your eyes shot up, wide, and you notice his gaze is dripping with unfiltered desire. It’s not just lust, not only his need, it looks like a want, like he’s chasing for something, unsure of what he’s actually looking for.

“(Y/n)-“

“Shut the fuck up, Jaeger.” You interrupt him, almost chocking at your words from the overwhelming sensory overload. “I never have.”

He stares at you. The signs are there that he’s not satisfied— the sudden jerk of his hips that makes you groan loudly, the way his small nails are almost abusing your skin at this point. He’s using you like a fucking tool. That’s what it feels like and that’s what he had planned. You had sworn that you won’t come undone for him, that you’d give him whatever he wanted and leave the instant it’s over, but the way your muscles are tightening says otherwise.

He can tell that he’s close as well, but he won’t let you leave unfinished. He wants this encounter to be engraved in your mind for the rest of your life, to be a constant reminder of that you dear boyfriend could never fuck you as good as he did. He doesn’t expect you to come back for this. All he wants is for you to know that he is and always will be better than that bastard Floch.

And oh God, he’s so fucking close. The way you’re clenching, milking his cock for all its worth is driving him absolutely insane.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

You instantly place your palm on his mouth. “You’re gonna wake up the entire fucking neighborhood with that.”

Sarcasm is dripping from your voice, but it’s painfully strained. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep up with this nonchalance and hold back your release.

He’s groaning against your hand and removes it, aggressively pinning it above your head. His lips come crashing down on yours, dominating you without giving you a chance to respond. You moan into his mouth, hands coming up to grip his shoulders instead of the sheets. Sharp nails dig into his skin, earning a growl that’s almost bone-chilling from such closeness.

“Fuck Jae-“

“Eren.”

You pause momentarily, breath hitching.

“Eren.” He repeats.

And so you breathe. Heavily.

“Eren- Shit- Fuck! I-”

“Yeah.”

Eren presses forward, almost folding your leg, and his pace slightly falters. Your own body is spasming underneath him, and before you know it, that familiar tension snaps, and you’re coming undone, harshly. Lucky for you, his lips are still on yours which saves you from getting too loud. He swallows your moans, grip tightening on your wrist. You can’t take more of this.

“Son of a- Fuck!“

“Oh my God, don’t cum inside me-“

Too late for that, unfortunately. His grip tightens unbelievably on your wrist, probably leaving nasty bruises behind as he shots his load, painting your walls white. The air is filled with your pants, the smell of sex and the excessive warmth that’s getting too much to bear.

His sweaty form collapses on top of yours as he finally let’s go of your wrist. It’s sore, just like the leg that had been resting on his shoulders. You’re not sure what happens in the next few seconds— it’s all fucking awkward. You’re trying to regain your breath and senses, and he’s doing the same.

The next thing you know, he’s pulling himself off you to grab his clothes. Your body is too fucking sore, but you can’t lie naked in his bed either. And so, you slowly get up as well to grab your stuff. You hear the sound of his buckle as you clip your bra and throw on your shirt. Once your done, you don’t bother to look back. There’s no point in that after all.

Your legs are too shaky, the ache between them more prominent than it should’ve been, but for the sake of your dignity, you try not to stumble in front of him. You hate the thought of that.

Though still slightly wobbly, you manage to make out of his tent without giving too much of a show.

Behind you, Eren’s simply staring at you, once again shirtless with a pair of pants only.

Eren wakes up to the sound of slight shuffling outside his tent the next morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet and most of the people are up from the sound of it, just like they had planned. The memories of last night comes rushing to his mind as he grumpily rubs his eyes. He can still feel your touch, taste your lips and inhale your scent. And it’s definitely not helping that your ripped panties are still in his possession, tucked shamelessly in the pocket of his pants.

By the time he has packed the little belongings he has and stepped out of his tent, the sun is slowly peeking from the horizon. Eren needs a bath, which luckily this place offers because of the river, before taking off. The change of clothes and his toothbrush is in hands as he walks, but your familiar sound makes him stop in his tracks.

There you are, by the river, with your lover Floch.

Eren narrows his eyes.

Both of you are under water that covers up till your chests. The marks he has left on you are visible on your neck and he’s sure that your disheveled state and limping would have given it all away. That you’re a fucking cheater who slept with someone else behind her boyfriend’s back.

“Was it fun?” He hears Floch’s distant voice, dragging him out of his thoughts.

The sense of accomplishment is slowly going down the drain.

“Look, I-“

“I know, baby. He couldn’t have been bad.” Floch interrupts you, joking. Fucking joking? “I know you only love me though and that’s enough for me.”

“Hmm, y’right.” You smile, wrapping your arms around him.

The way you’re looking at him, that gaze filled with love. Pure love. There’s no commitment or obligations, or devotion, no, it’s simply love.

You leave the part where he came inside you to not worry Floch while only hoping for the best. Maybe, a part of him could become jealous too, but you doubt that. To him, Eren’s just as divine as he’s for you

“We should leave. It’s not the time to get all cozy.” You chuckle, placing a kiss on top of Floch’s head.

Eren’s heart is hammering in his chest when you turn around and your gazes meet for a brief second. You show nothing on your face, a complete indifference that perhaps he should be thankful for, but a part of him is not.

Thoughts are racing in his head, everything looking like a complete mess as he tries to sort them.

Your gaze averts as quickly, though he notices that familiar redhead staring a bit too long at him. Perhaps it got to him more than he showed, and a sense of pride swells up in Eren’s chest. Though Floch’s offering him a small nod in the next instant, like nothing happened, which Eren doesn’t return because he’s too wrapped up in his head.

You’re a fucking nuisance. He’s trying to decipher whether it’s his victory or defeat.

He doesn’t know. He’ll never know.

All he knows is that he has your unquestionable devotion while Floch Foster has your heart.