@illumilovers - Tumblr Blog

Mar 30

Always the Quiet Ones | ONE-SHOT

Eren mistakenly took his new lab partner for being quiet, only to discover she was so much more than that.

⟡ content: eren jaeger x female reader, college au, mutual pining, fluffy and smutty af, explicit language, explicit sexual content, alcohol, reader discretion advised. 18+ ⟡ word count: ~13k ⟡ rewritten and reposted for my new blog | read on ao3

It was the honest-to-God truth when Eren said he wasn’t trying to catch feelings for anyone. But then you came along. Unexpectedly, inexplicably, but surprisingly, not all at once.

You were harmless enough—nothing more than his quiet lab partner in anatomy. Truth be told, he didn’t know what to think of you, other than your tendency to keep to yourself. On the rare occasion you spoke up, you kept your words brief, always pertinent to whatever assignment was at hand. But more days than not, you’d only address Eren with a cursory nod, just when he’d take his seat beside you. Sometimes you couldn’t even bother to look up from your textbook to acknowledge him properly.

So, Eren treated you the same. He brought the bare minimum to your conversations. One-word answers. A specific grunt for ‘yes,’ and another for ‘no’—each you had to learn on your own. Between lecture and lab and studying, Eren often wondered if the semester would go by faster if he had a lab partner who wasn’t such a drag. At the very least, it’d be nice to have one that would talk to him.

He couldn’t help but wonder why you were, for lack of a better word, like that. Cold. Standoffish. Withdrawn. He had a few theories in mind—only because lectures were that boring—the most probable being that you were just shy. That would make the most sense, wouldn’t it?

Perhaps you were the type of student who took her classes way too seriously. He guessed you to be in your third year, like him. Maybe you were trying to get into a competitive graduate program. Or maybe you just really liked anatomy. Eren supposed that’d make sense. You seemed to like the textbook an awful lot, always reading far too closely in the way nerds do in cartoons. But there were other times when it was almost as if you were avoiding looking him in the eye.

There were days—usually when Eren was feeling particularly disgruntled—that your quietness irked him. He knew it was irrational to care so much, but damn it, why were you like that? And all the time, too. You must be stuck up. What else could he blame your perpetually cold shoulder on? He wasn’t proud of it, but sometimes he believed you were a bitch. Simple as that.

Eren’s theories could go on and on, but none of them were true. Well, you didn’t think you were a bitch. No, the reason behind your reserved attitude was much more straightforward than that.

You had a stupid crush on Eren.

A girlish, twirling-your-hair-around-your-finger crush. The kind that made your stomach somehow feel both hollow and full, and had you gushing to your roommate even though you knew you’d never act on any of this.

You’d felt this way since last semester, in another class you had together. You didn’t think Eren remembered that; you still weren’t sure he even knew of your existence until your professor partnered up the two of you.

God. Thinking about that day made you prickle with anxiety all over again. When it happened, you swore you were going to die. Like, actually keel over from a heart attack in the middle of class and die.

You liked to think there was another universe out there in which you’d feel thrilled to have such forced proximity to your crush. Maybe he’d even give you his number to text him about homework, and in that other universe, you’d be absolutely giddy over it.

But that was not the case, because in this universe, anatomy was far from your strong suit. Very, very far.

You drove yourself mad over all the ways you’d inevitably embarrass yourself in front of Eren, lab after lab. It terrified you, even to the point where you wouldn’t dare ask a question out of fear of sounding dumb. So you made do with what you had, pressed on without asking him to repeat himself, and scribbled down what little you could manage.

It was despicable. Truly despicable, and you knew it, and still you pretended like Eren wasn’t there because that felt easier. Even if it meant you started seeing your grade slip.

You hoped to keep that—and your crush—a secret from him, but one day, he got a little too nosy for your liking.

The professor handed back your lab report face down, like always. You knew professors did that for everyone, no matter the grade, but you couldn’t help but feel it was done specifically for you.

You didn’t want to, but you forced yourself to peel back the corner and take a peek. Unsurprisingly, a lousy grade met you on the other side. Again.

For someone wanting to hide their score, you weren’t as careful as you should have been when sliding the paper into your folder. Eren leaned back in his seat, just far enough to steal a glimpse over your shoulder. For research, obviously. If you liked anatomy so much, then you must be pretty good at the subject. That would fit in well with your stuffy attitude, wouldn’t it?

But what Eren saw surprised him, especially when he considered his own soaring grade. On his chuckle, he let slip, “Wow. Are you even writing anything down?”

You startled, slamming your folder shut. “Huh?”

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. He was, but it didn’t come across nearly as lighthearted as he hoped. Eren often let his thoughts spew into words he shouldn’t say, but you didn’t know about that nasty habit of his. All you were thinking was shit, shit, shit. He had finally figured out that you had no clue what you were doing.

Eren saw the panic as it spread across your face. He cracked a small smile at you, perhaps for the first time, as if it would help. Still, his eyebrows furrowed with a sort of pity he couldn’t hold back.

“The lab.” He pointed to the crumpled paper, half in the folder, half poking out. You tucked it away entirely to hide the grade for the rest of eternity. “We do them together every week. How are you screwing them up that badly?”

What kind of question was that? You gave him a hard frown and regretted thinking he’d be anything more than curt toward you. Even with the pity brows, you weren’t feeling much sympathy from him.

You replied with a blank stare, imagining how horribly this moment would torment you the second your head hit your pillow tonight—and for all nights to come, probably.

You only snapped out of it when you heard his chair drag against the tile. He sighed, a little too loudly to consider it natural, and started packing his things into his book bag.

“Look,” Eren started to say. He glanced up at you once he’d zipped his bag shut, and it made you flighty. “You don’t have to be stuck with a shitty grade. There’s still time left in the semester. I bet I can help.”

His voice was flat, and you didn’t care for his delivery much, but beneath that, there was a glint of sincerity. You weren’t sure where it came from, and frankly, neither did Eren. He regretted being so thoughtless with his words. It was hard not to after seeing the way your face—always so stoic he’d think you were made of marble—turned so sullen. He didn’t like how it made him feel, less so knowing you could pull such a visceral reaction from him.

“You still have my number, yeah?” Eren asked.

You nodded. You did, in fact, still have his phone number, scratched into the first page of your notebook. He wrote it down after your first class together, just like you hoped he would. You decided not to do anything with it. You didn’t even save it to your phone to prevent any possibility of a stupid, drunken text.

“Good,” he said. “We can meet up sometime to study together.”

“Okay, yeah. Thanks,” you said, quietly at first, but your confidence grew with each word when you realized this might not have to go down as one of your top ten most humiliating memories.

“Sure.” Eren stood and swung his bag over his shoulder. He smiled at you again, real this time, big enough to make your stomach flop. “I can’t let my lab partner flunk out on me.”

So, that was where it began—‘it’ referring to you and Eren occasionally studying together. Nothing more. Definitely not the fun sort of studying—you know, like having him study your anatomy rather than the pictures in his textbook. Oh, well. You could still dream.

It took about two study sessions before you didn’t feel you were on the edge of your seat around Eren. As lame as it sounded, he made you incredibly nervous—much more nervous than you felt around him in class, and you didn’t even think that was possible.

Just like in class, you tried your very hardest to keep your eyes on your text. But as shameful as it was to admit, you occasionally snuck a glance. Only when you were certain he wouldn’t notice, because if he did, you knew you’d turn into a pile of goo before you could even look away.

You’d catch him while he was jotting something down because you liked how he looked when he was pensive. His dark brows would sit low over his eyes, and his bottom lip would jut out ever so slightly. And sometimes, only when he was completely stumped, he’d run his fingers through his hair in thought. You liked that a lot, too.

By the time midterms had come and gone, you were seeing Eren more and more—at least twice a week outside of class, maybe a third time if you had a lab report due. By then, it was impossible to let your heart continue to flutter every time you looked him in the eyes. Otherwise, it was bound to give out.

What you wanted to be study dates (emphasis on ‘dates’) quickly became what felt like tutoring lessons—and just to be clear, you were not the tutor. After Eren convinced you his willingness to help was genuine, you didn’t worry as much about sounding dumb. He never seemed bothered when he had to explain a topic, even if you went overboard with the questions.

Though he did like to poke fun at you for your frequent mix-ups and mispronunciations. But you made sure to never let him live down spelling ‘brain’ as ‘brian.’

“It was one time,” he’d always complain back.

After being scolded one too many times for goofing off in the library, you had to make do with other spots around campus, like in a cafe or even out on the green. Other times, especially as the weather began to cool, you’d meet Eren at his place, just a five-minute jaunt from campus.

He lived in a house with three other boys: Armin, Jean, and Connie. You found Jean and Connie to be nice enough based on the handful of conversations you had with them. Despite that, Eren blamed them for the reason you didn’t study at his house often, accusing them of being too distracting to think straight. You didn’t necessarily agree, but hey, you weren’t the one who had to live with them.

Eren would never tell you this—hell, he couldn’t think of a single person he’d say this aloud to—but the real reason he didn’t like to study at his place was Armin.

Eren’s blonde best friend for the last ten years. His roommate, whom you would describe as cute as a button and sharp as a tack. Armin knew much more about anatomy than you and Eren (maybe even combined) and liked to join in when he was bored, answering the questions that Eren couldn’t.

Eren couldn’t pinpoint exactly why this bothered him so much. He always knew Armin was smarter than him; that had never been a problem before. Now, it bothered him to no end. But rather than deal with it head-on, Eren decided studying at your apartment was the better solution. Your roommate, Hitch, was tolerable enough.

It was around finals week when it happened. A healthy dose of reality, served as a smack straight across your face. A reminder that you still had a big fat crush on Eren. When your frequent study dates became less of a one-on-one thing and more like a group hangout.

You were cordial, something between classmates and acquaintances, with the few classmates sitting near you. One girl, Mina, said that she, Thomas, and Samuel planned to get together to prepare for the upcoming exam. She insisted that you and Eren should join.

You didn’t respond right away. You couldn’t, not with the way your heart sank into your stomach when Eren answered for you.

“She needs all the help she can get,” Eren replied with a playful pat on your shoulder. He was only joking, but you wished he didn’t sound so eager. You especially wished his hand, so innocently placed on your back, didn’t make your cheeks burn.

You did your best to get over it quickly. It was hard to stay bitter at people you got along with, so much so that you’d accomplish more chatting than studying. Luckily for the rest of you, Eren and Thomas knew enough to help you skate by.

But when Eren started texting in the new group chat more than he’d text you, you couldn’t ignore the sting. It felt as though you’d let your chances with him slip by because next semester he wouldn’t be your lab partner anymore. He might not even talk to you again; he’d have no reason to.

You left the final exam feeling okay at best. You walked out with your head down, not paying attention as Mina caught up from behind. She invited you to come by her apartment that Friday—something about your classmates getting together to celebrate the end of Anatomy pop quizzes. You didn’t give it a second thought when you agreed.

You were at the get-together for maybe an hour, maybe longer, when someone was drunk enough to suggest a game of Never Have I Ever. You’d just thrown away your second beer and felt just adventurous enough to play.

Mina’s living room was too small for hosting, but most of your places were. That didn’t stop her from decorating for the holiday season. With everyone crowded around, the strings of lights cast a colorful but warm glow against everyone’s faces. In the center of the ragged circle, some people sat on the floor, some on the sofa, was an old beer. According to Samuel, it was left out overnight chugging it would serve as punishment for putting the last of your fingers down.

You didn’t know it then, but that beer had your name written all over it.

You sat on the floor, legs folded to your chest, with your hand growing tired in the air. Only your index finger remained standing when Mina shouted it was her turn.

“Never have I ever had a body count higher than five,” she announced.

A few people put a finger down, but you knew it didn’t matter. You dropped your forehead to your knees in defeat and let your hand slump to your side. Everyone was laughing, hounding you to drink the beer, when you whined, “Do I have to?”

If you hadn’t been so busy downing that lukewarm can, pouting as you went—if your audience wasn’t so loud as they heckled you, maybe you would have noticed how Eren went quiet. How a firm crease formed between his brows the longer he watched.

Eren didn’t know what he was feeling. Something sour. Something like the feeling he got when he saw you laugh with Armin. It made him not want to look at you because the sight alone made his stomach tight, but he couldn’t stop.

Your body count didn’t offend him. After all, he had to put a finger down for the same reason. Though he had to admit, you surprised him (it was always the quiet ones, wasn’t it?) but that wasn’t new. The more he learned about you, the more he realized his assumptions about you couldn’t have been more wrong—especially the ones about you being a bitch and good at anatomy.

Eren studied you from across the cramped room. Your nose crinkled, giggles spilling from you as you tried, for the second time, to finish the beer. He’d heard your laugh before. Many times, actually. But tonight, he found the sound captivatingly warm. Like a moth drawn to a flame, he felt his chest flutter.

His thoughts drifted further and further, recklessly so, until he found himself wondering if you’d crinkle your nose just the same if he made you come.

Right then, he could see you underneath him. Naked. Your face twisted in pleasure, brows pinched cutely as your teeth dipped into your swollen bottom lip. He swore he could feel your thighs under his palms, soft and giving beneath them as he pulled down your—

It was so wrong of him. Wrong to be in a room full of people and pretend as if you were the only two people to exist.

That swarming in his gut grew hotter. He took another sip of his beer as if it would dull the burn.

Eren doubted himself into a downward spiral. Almost like a hangnail, he picked and picked at the thought until he created an open wound of his own making. What was so wrong with him that you weren’t interested?

He could deny naming the sick feeling as much as he wanted, but Eren knew what it was: insecurity. Jealous of people he didn’t even know, for no other reason than he had the chance to be with you in the ways he so desperately craved, to where he felt doubled over sick.

He felt fucking pathetic for it.

Eren didn’t stay at the party long after that. You left just before midnight and didn’t think of that game, or Eren, for the rest of the weekend. And on Monday, you were up bright and early to check your final grade for anatomy. By some miracle, you passed the class.

It was well into winter break when you saw Eren again. You bumped into him at a house party, when there was about a week left until classes started and everyone was trickling back to campus to celebrate the new year.

You didn’t expect to see him again this soon, but then again, you weren’t so sure you’d ever see him again. Anatomy class was the glue that held you together. You wished you could say you had more confidence in your budding friendship, in Eren, but he hadn’t talked to you since Mina’s party. You thought he at least felt some sort of stake in knowing if you passed the class.

You told yourself it was better off this way, considering you nearly failed your lab because of him. Well, technically speaking, you passed because of him, but you wouldn’t have been in this mess in the first place if he wasn’t your lab partner.

All that bullshit for a silly crush.

You stumbled into Eren toward the end of the night, when parties start feeling spacey and liminal, between night and day. A couple of lights were on now, and whoever was in charge of the music had clearly given up long ago. It was all pointing to a not-so-subtle hint to get out.

And you wanted nothing more than to get out. You would have been out of there thirty minutes ago if it weren’t for Hitch. Your loveable, yet self-admittedly ditzy roommate had disappeared into thin air.

By the time you began searching for her, you’d already drunk well past your limit. You were left dizzy, starving, and having poked your head into every room and around every corner. No Hitch, but you did find lots of dry humping.

The last time you saw Hitch, she was one of those dry humpers. She was on top of some guy who you figured was the reason she even wanted to come to this party. You were sure you’d catch his name tomorrow morning.

You were too distracted, too bubbly from the leftover New Year’s champagne to see what was right in front of you—even if he was rather tall, broad, and hard to miss. You didn’t even look twice as you walked past him. He only grabbed your attention after calling your name, but you only felt disappointed that the voice was too deep to belong to Hitch.

You spun around and the floor tilted with you. It took you a step or two to straighten back out, and when you did, your vision settled on Eren.

He gave you a lop-sided smile, serving as nothing more than a hesitant greeting. He only made it more awkward by throwing in a cheeky, “Long time, no see.”

You returned the gesture by offering a chuckle that was only half-forced. The other half was genuine simply because it was easy to impress anyone after a night spent drinking.

And since you had spent the night drinking, you felt all weird when you looked at Eren. It wasn’t that you were upset with him—maybe disappointed, but it wasn’t exactly with him. Eren never owed you his kindness, and going out of his way to help you study was more than you could have asked for. You’d say you were disappointed with what could have been.

But now that he was here, getting shoved closer and closer with every passerby, you didn’t know what to think other than you should have skipped out on that last drink. You hoped you’d feel more put together the next time you saw Eren so you wouldn’t get tangled up in again. You weren’t confident you’d be able to unravel yourself a second time.

Eren took a willing step toward you and recognized the familiar haze of booze in your eyes. He realized you weren’t going to say anything, so he’d have to do the heavy-lifting.

“Were you looking for someone?”

“Hitch,” you said. There was a pause where you weren’t sure he remembered he knew her. “My roommate.”

“I know.”

“We were supposed to get food, but I think she took a guy home,” you told him for no reason in particular. “The last time this happened, I walked in on them doing it on the kitchen counter.”

Eren laughed, harder once your face winced at the memory, a sight seared into your brain, for sure. “You should really consider finding a new roommate.”

“And in the meantime?”

“You come back to my place,” he said, so casually that you were positive you didn’t hear him right. Your face must have given you away, and he tried to brush it off with a shrug. “What’s the big deal? You’ve slept on my couch before.”

He was right. You’d fallen asleep on his couch while studying once. He teased you about it—said you got drool everywhere.

“That’s different,” you sheepishly said. “That was an accident.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place,” he teased.

“Maybe you shouldn’t make your flashcards so boring!”

Eren liked his simple flashcards. He preferred them. Not everyone needed to spend more time highlighting and color-coding flashcards than actually studying them.

He tilted his head in a look that said Quit being so stubborn for once but relented. “Fine. Then how about you tell me how to make them look nicer on the way back to my house. I was just about to leave, anyway.”

He took a daring step backward. Then another, until he turned on one foot and headed toward the door. He knew you’d follow him, and so thoughtlessly, you did. You stayed just behind as you meandered through the house and out the front door.

You called out after him, “You don’t really need them now, do you? The class is over.”

“I just thought you might need ‘em.” Eren bounded down the porch steps and tossed a glance over his shoulder, just to catch the look on your face when he said, “Since you’re going to be retaking the class.”

You wished you’d shoved him down the steps, but he was already across the lawn, you trailing him. He walked with longer strides and didn’t seem concerned about whether you could keep up.

“Thanks for that,” you grumbled.

“Anytime.”

It didn’t take long before the two of you were close to campus. You walked along the main drag, lined with various bars and late-night bites that thrived in the college town’s nightlife. The liveliness made it difficult to tell time; it could be ten p.m. or two a.m., and you wouldn’t know the difference. Every bar kept its music loud enough to thrum in your chest, beating perfectly in tempo with each of your steps—those of which were still fighting to keep up with Eren.

He didn’t even bother looking back at you when he asked, “Do you still want to get food?”

“Hm?” You couldn’t hear him over your shuffling along the sidewalk. Your feet had already started aching hours ago, and this certainly wasn’t helping. You really shouldn’t have worn your new shoes without breaking them in.

“You never listen, do you?” Eren didn’t say it with annoyance but with a laugh. “I’m surprised you’ve made it this far.”

“I listen just fine. You just mumble a lot,” you defended. “And for your information, I am not retaking Anatomy. I passed with a C.”

“C plus or C minus?”

“Plus,” you said with inflated, drunken confidence.

“I’ll alert the media,” Eren deadpanned. You stuck your tongue out at him even though he wouldn’t see it. “Now tell me, did you still want to get food or not?”

“I didn’t think it was still an option.”

“‘Course it is.” He finally looked back at you, nearly skipping to keep up with him now, just in time to catch your trip over a sidewalk crack. “I think you could probably use something to eat.”

When you were about to round the corner onto his street, Eren stopped short a few doors down at an unassuming 24-hour diner. You weren’t expecting to stop and sit down but to flag down a street vendor. Though you had to admit, breakfast sounded wonderful.

Eren picked the booth in the back after you were instructed to seat yourselves. The place was small and smelt of pancake batter and stale coffee—just as any diner should at this hour. And stale or not, you knew you needed a few mugs to sober up.

The waitress flipped your ceramic mug upright and filled it to the brim. If it were nine in the morning, steam would pour out, and it would look like a movie. But it was not nine in the morning, and you did not want to know how long this coffee had sat out.

You took it with cream, then dumped some sugar in, too. Reaching for a second packet, you caught Eren staring as you tore it open, his hands folded around his mug.

“Is something the matter?” you asked.

“Want any coffee with your sugar?”

“Ha-ha.” You added the sugar, now out of spite. When you took your first sip, it tasted as bitter as you’d imagined.

Now that you were off your feet, the pain gnawed at you. You wiggled your shoes down, just enough for your heels to slip free from the backs. But it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t bear to keep them for another second—the diner was empty, anyway. Once they were off, your feet pulsed as if they had their own heartbeat.

The waitress took your order before disappearing again, only making rounds to offer a warm-up here or there, which you gladly accepted. Eren didn’t make a peep when you added another packet of sugar this time. During the lapse in conversation, you kept your head low and fiddled with the loose scraps of paper. You didn’t even remember what you were thinking about when Eren eventually spoke.

“You know,” he started to say. You peered up from the wadded paper you’d been rolling between your fingers. He leaned back in the booth and looked out the frosted window with a quiet chuckle. “I thought you hated me when we first met.”

You matched his laugh, yours more disbelieving. “Hated you? I don’t think I knew you well enough to hate you.”

As if he were thinking out loud, he said, “You were always so quiet.”

“Being quiet doesn’t mean you hate someone,” you explained.

His eyes flicked from the window to you. “Then what does it mean?”

It was easier to talk to him when he wasn’t looking directly at you. His gaze felt smothering. You retreated your gaze down to the spool you swirled around your coffee. The soft banging against the ceramic was the only sound between you and Eren because you still didn’t know how to answer him.

“I don’t know,” you said, hoping you would have come up with a more profound answer by now. “It just means you’re quiet, I guess.”

A short stack of pancakes interrupted Eren, slid right between the two of you, decorated with a gooey scoop of butter. Eren only ordered coffee even after you said you’d pay. And once the server dropped off the syrup and scurried away again, Eren was quick to jump back into the conversation, much to your dismay.

“But you’re not quiet, and you’re not shy either,” he said like he’d caught you in a lie. You urged him on with a raised eyebrow. He scoffed. “Don’t give me that. I know that’s not you. I saw you dancing tonight with Hitch.”

Your hand stalled as you reached for the syrup. “You watched me dance?”

His eyes widened, but he played it off well enough when he said, “I mean, yeah. My so-called quiet lab partner actually knows how to dance? It just surprised me, that’s all.”

“If you saw me earlier, why didn’t you come and say hi?”

Strike that. Eren almost played it off. He tensed up, noticeably so, and it took him longer than he would have liked to come up with his pathetic excuse of, “Oh, I think someone grabbed me for a game of beer pong or something. I couldn’t find you after.”

That never happened. Eren knew it, and he was pretty sure you knew it, too. The truth was that Eren didn’t go up and talk to you because he’d spent the last few weeks convincing himself he wasn’t into you.

He went as far as reinstalling his dating apps, all of which he had long sworn off. He naively assumed that if he just went on a date, maybe even brought a girl home, then he would be in the clear; he wouldn’t think of you anymore. Easy-peasy. But by the time dinner was through, Eren could hardly remember a single thing his date had said. He was too busy comparing her to you, even when he didn’t mean to, and felt disappointed every time she laughed because it sounded nothing like yours.

Then he saw you tonight. Of course, he had to see you tonight. And out of everything you could have been doing, you were dancing. Having fun, enjoying yourself. He favored you like that, when you were carefree. You were nothing like the girl he thought he’d met in lecture.

And when he heard your laugh—more remarkable than all the others, like he’d strangely gone deaf to anything and anyone but you—he couldn’t remember why he was trying so hard to stay away from you.

Now you were here, seated across the booth from him, cheeks stuffed with pancakes, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do next. He had spent the entire walk here wrangling with himself, scared that if he had you, even in the most innocent of ways, he wouldn’t be able to get enough.

Eren knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this because—fuck, what if you still didn’t want him in return?

He only lied about beer pong because he couldn’t outrightly confess to needing a drink before talking to you. He was so close to getting away with it, too. If you’d gone for another bite a second earlier, if he’d thought to take a sip of coffee to hide his face, maybe you wouldn’t have spotted the flushed bridge of his nose. So subtle, yet telling enough that you had to bite your inner lip to prevent a smile.

You held your fork before your face, inspecting the pancake as syrup dripped back onto the plate, purposefully flippant about it as you finally said to Eren, “It’s because I had a crush on you.”

“Huh?”

You plopped the pancake into your mouth, chewing so thoughtfully that it nearly killed Eren. After you swallowed, you said, “I had a crush on you. That’s why I was so quiet.”

He didn’t say another word, even with you staring him square in the face, expectant. It obviously flustered him. You laughed softly, just through your nose, then said, “That, and you always got better grades than me. I didn’t want you to think I was dumb.”

Eren didn’t hear the second half of what you said; he was still fixed on the first. “Do you still?”

You knew what he was asking, but you played obtuse. “Still what?”

“Have a crush on me.”

You mulled it over while you went for another bite, eyes on him like he already had the answer. He did. You both did. Still, you let the question hang heavy between you. You weren’t quite ready to lay your cards on the table just yet.

You tossed him a flick of a smile when you answered, “To be determined.”

He nodded once, lips folded in a similar sort of smile. “Got it.”

You were satisfied with that, but Eren wasn’t. He watched while you took another sip of coffee before reaching for another packet of sugar. Before you could dump it in, he shielded your mug with his hand.

“But you better figure out an answer before all that sugar kills you,” he said.

You swatted him away. “Yeah, it’ll definitely be the sugar that kills me and not the keg stand I started the night with.”

“You did a keg stand?”

He said it as if he didn’t believe you. You giggled, “Only because Hitch talked me into it.”

Eren laughed with you despite the shaking of his head. “See, what did I say? You surprise me.”

You had only hobbled a few feet out of the diner before your heels started hurting again. You sucked your teeth in pain, only made worse by another step. You had noted two fresh blisters on your heels when you slid your shoes back on, but you hoped they wouldn’t be a hassle since the walk to Eren’s was short. Now, all you wanted was to still be drunk enough to feel numb.

“Everything okay back there?” Eren asked.

You were behind him again, but not because of his pace.

“Yeah,” you said. Eren thought it unconvincing, and you confirmed his hunch when he noticed you stumbling in the corner of his eye. “It’s my shoes. I’m sorry.”

He stopped walking and turned to you. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just take ‘em off.”

“I’m not just going to walk barefoot.”

“Didn’t say you had to.”

You didn’t seem to understand what he was implying, even less so when he gave you his back and bent slightly at the knee.

He could not be serious right now.

“My house is just a few more blocks away. I’ll carry you.”

Okay. He was actually serious. Eren was about to give you a piggyback ride.

You didn’t intend to laugh, but it was only because this situation was so ridiculous—and partly because of your own anxiety, fizzling at the thought alone.

Eren took it differently, shooting you a comically offended look when he said, “What? You think I can’t carry you?” He straightened tall, shoved his hands into his pockets, and began walking away. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

“Wait!”

You wanted to blame it on your feet or say you didn’t want to slow him down, but you had to be honest with yourself: were you really going to pass up this opportunity?

Eren flashed you a smile over his shoulder. “That’s what I thought.”

You ignored his boasting and began removing your shoes. He took them from you with one hand, then let you hop onto his back. His body didn’t give like you expected, and his arms were sturdy as they looped around your thighs.

You hadn’t had a piggyback ride since you were probably eleven years old, but you could say with certainty that you didn’t remember it feeling like this. Eren’s neck was warm against your arms in the crisp night air. His hands were even hotter; you thought they might sear into the backs of your thighs.

Eren jostled you forward, higher onto his back. He warned, “Hold on tighter, or else you’re gonna fall off.”

You hugged him, your chest pressing into his back. You’d never been this close to him before. His hair, only loosely tied back now, brushed against your face. His cologne was faint—warm like amber, but there was something refreshing that tickled your nose. You drew closer to him, inhaling the scent.

Eren worried you felt the roll of his throat when your breath broke over the nape of his neck. How embarrassing that something as childish as a piggyback ride could send his heart racing. Suddenly, he was back in junior high, and it was his first time holding a girl’s hand.

If this was all he’d have of you tonight, he’d be happy. Delighted. Even if it meant he’d end up waking up with a sore back. He wanted to earn back your crush, even if he wasn’t so sure it ever truly went away.

Eren set you down on his porch and fished for his keys in his back pocket. Once inside, the house was blackout dark. You stilled in the entryway, entirely unaware of your surroundings but listening as Eren walked ahead.

Not a second later, Eren flipped on a light from the other room. It was bright enough to hurt your eyes at first, but at least you could see the floor now.

Eren stood in the doorway to the kitchen. He wore a look of trepidation, staring at you like you were some scared little puppy he’d rescued.

“Can I get you some water?” he asked.

“Sure. Thank you.”

Eren gestured toward the sofa and offered a clunky, “Make yourself at home,” before disappearing around the corner.

You’d hardly made yourself comfortable (if that was even possible in this situation) before he returned. You didn’t even realize how rigid your joints were until you had to uncross your arms and reach for the water bottle Eren handed you.

You wouldn’t call the feeling anxiety. It was more like anticipation. The ‘will they or won’t they?’ moment of the night.

Eren sat on the opposite side of the old couch, and it squeaked beneath his weight. “I imagine you wouldn’t want to sleep on the couch in a house full of guys,” he said as he settled into the cushions. “Take my room, if you want. I’m fine sleeping out here.”

You nearly choked on your water. “I’m not going to take your bed.” You couldn’t, possibly. You didn’t think you’d even seen his room before. “You didn’t even need to go through the trouble of letting me stay the night.”

“Out of all my troubles,” Eren said with a certain warmth to his face, discernible in the lowest of lights, “you staying the night is the least of them.”

You smiled at him.

You smiled at him, and you had not the slightest inclination how deeply it tugged at his heart. The smile was shy, no greater than a curl of the corners of your mouth, yet Eren desired nothing more than to memorize the shape of it underneath his lips.

“Okay,” you finally agreed. You could have ended it there, and you probably should have, but his unreadable gaze had you skittish and rambly. “But, really, if it’s too much—if you want me to go, I can call a—”

“I don’t want you to go.”

You stammered, pretending you had something, anything, to say. Something changed, but you couldn’t say what. There was a shift in energy, a new glint to his eyes—in the look he was giving you.

Maybe it would be more accurate to say that everything had changed.

There wasn’t much air in your voice when you said, “I don’t want to go, either.”

Your admission was barely a whisper. So delicate and saccharine that Eren wasn’t even sure you intended to say it aloud. Your eyes went big and genuine, as if you had revealed some secret you’d been holding onto for who knew how long.

He had the same look on his face, like he barely clung onto what little composure you hadn’t stolen from him yet. You liked seeing him like that—such an unguarded expression on a face that was normally hardened. Eyes soft and electric, all at once. You never thought he’d look at you in such a way, and you didn’t want it to end.

Now or never.

“Eren?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounded just as taken as yours.

Eren knew you as anything but bold, but right then, you were incredibly so. Purring your words when you asked him, “Why are you always so nice to me?”

The distant light from the kitchen cast shadows along the angles of his jaw, highlighting how it tensed. “Am I?”

You nodded. Slowly.

“How so?”

“You know,” you said knowingly. You stretched your leg across the couch, languid, inching closer to him until you had it draped over his lap as if you’d done it a million times before. “You walk me home when I’m drunk. Carry me when my feet hurt.” You nudged your foot beneath his hand, encouraging him to place it atop your leg. “You let me spend the night and even offer me your bed.”

You felt oh so courageous now, but you knew you’d regret the shenanigans the next time you saw Eren on campus. You could already see the smug smile he’d give you from across the hall or from the far side of the green—wherever you’d inevitably run into him next. You would turn into a puddle right on the spot.

But none of that mattered tonight. You heard him stifle the groan at the back of his throat as your foot grazed over the front of his pants, and you needed to hear it again.

“Not to mention,” you retracted your leg, sat back onto your calves, and leaned into him, giggling, “you tutored me in anatomy for an entire semester without complaining once.”

He looked from the hand you’d rested on his leg to your face. You were so close, knees bumping against the side of his thigh. He wanted to keep you there, he thought, as his hand cupped your cheek. You tried your best not to melt into him.

“I think I might have complained once,” Eren said with a smile in his voice. His thumb traced over your skin. “But I can’t help myself. You’re very cute when you’re drunk and when you’re proud after passing a quiz.” He unexpectedly grinned. “And when you hold your textbook too close to your face when you read.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do.”

You pulled a face but didn’t argue any further. You couldn’t, not with how close you were to him now, the tips of your noses nearly brushing. He still held your face as he swiped his thumb along your bottom lip. You wetted them, wanting a taste.

Yes, you’d found yourselves here, but neither of you wanted to be the first to crumble the wall you’d spend an entire semester building together. One so tall that there were times you couldn’t see over it.

Eren caressed your face. You moved with him, tilting in until your forehead pressed against his, and you could feel his breath on your lips when you told him, “I think I still have a crush on you.”

“Yeah. I know.” He wasn’t his usual cocky self about it. He sounded soft; he was relieved.

Your hand traveled up his thigh, and you felt the muscles twitch as you went. He wondered if you had any idea what you were doing to him—how insane you’d driven him. You had to.

“So,” you said, long and drawn-out. Your hand palmed over the tent in his jeans. He was hard. Much harder than you’d expect from some harmless flirting. “Are you going to do something about it?”

“Fuck,” Eren muttered under his breath. “C’mere.”

His hand slipped into your hair, fingers curling around the back of your head to pull you to him. What you thought would be a crash of lips was much more affectionate. Instead of kissing you as if he believed he could make up for lost time, he kissed you like he knew he had all the time in the world with you, finally.

Eren’s lips were soft, every movement thoughtful as he coaxed apart your lips. His tongue was hot and licking against your own and made your head spin. You snatched a fistful of his shirt in some vain attempt at grounding yourself, but the longer he made out with you, taking his time with no destination in mind, the more helpless you became.

“Eren.”

It left you in a gasp. A moan he could swallow up before it met the air.

Either he didn’t hear you or he ignored it. He angled your head slightly, exposing your neck for him to explore. He kissed the corner of your mouth and down your jaw until you felt his lips at the hollow below your ear.

“Eren,” you repeated, louder this time, more needily, because he’d begun kissing at your pulse point.

“Hm?” he hummed, unbothered. Oblivious to how desperately turned on you were, how just his teeth skimming the delicate skin of your neck had your thighs clenching.

“That’s why you didn’t want me to leave, right?” you said between heavy breaths. You let your eyes flutter shut as you felt him suck just above your collarbone, where he’d surely leave a bruise.

You rubbed your hand where you could feel his cock straining beneath the zipper of his jeans. When his breathing faltered, you reached to undo the button.

“Because you’ve thought about this before,” you murmured. With his jeans opened, you snuck a hand below his boxers and wrapped your hand around his cock. “Because you were hoping this would happen.” You nuzzled your face into his neck, peppering kisses of your own, noting his quickening pulse as you began stroking him, base to tip. “Because you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Yes,” Eren groaned. He would have tried harder to hold it back, but his patience was already waning as he staved off his urge to rut into your hand.

“I’ve thought about it, too,” you confessed.

That broke him. Before you knew it—before he knew it—he had you pinned between him and the couch.

Your back hit the cushion with another whine from the springs, louder and more obnoxious than the one earlier. When Eren kissed you again, he was no longer taking his time. Because you were right, he couldn’t help himself. Not around you, at least, and not after hearing you wanted him in the same ways he needed you.

It wasn’t long before the couch became too cramped for your liking, limbs slipping and spilling until you thought you might fall onto the floor. Only when your head dangling off the couch forced your lips to separate did you have a minute to catch your breath—or at least try to.

“You said,” you panted, collecting yourself. “You said I could sleep in your room. Maybe you could show it to me now…”

Eren felt hazy, brain short-circuiting for the obvious reason, but your implication was just heavy-handed enough for him to catch on.

“Yeah. Okay.”

He helped you upright, fumbling around one another, climbing the stairs in a clumsy hurry until you were tripping over your own feet because you couldn’t imagine keeping your hands off each other for even a second.

Behind his closed bedroom door, Eren’s hands became reckless as they pawed over your body, anywhere they could. You could feel the desperation, the firmness in his touch that made you weak in the knees and struggle to suppress your whispers. Each tiny sound encouraged him, riling him up further until he had you braced against the wall.

His forearms, planted on either side of you, kept you caged in place, but you would have stayed there for him more than willingly. Forever, if you could. His mouth on yours was commanding enough that he could take you with him wherever he pleased.

You hated yourself for getting more turned on at just the thought.

Taking him by his loose, unzipped jeans, you tugged him close and hooked a leg around his waist. His cock pressed between your legs, and you ground against him because if you didn’t, you swore you might explode. You were only human, after all.

And, God, Eren wanted to give you everything you wanted—everything he had. There was a part of him that wanted to make you wait, maybe even beg for him, but like you, he was also only human.

When he pulled back from your kiss, chest rising and falling with each labored breath, he could only tell you, “Bed.”

With a bobble of your head, you repeated, “Bed,” and separated.

Eren went to turn on his bedside lamp, and you figured it time to shed from your tight clothes. You didn’t think he’d be able to easily get you out of your top. After all, Hitch had to help you into it.

The lamp cast a low, almost orange glow, but it was enough to make you feel keenly aware of his gaze on you as you peeled off your shirt. It bunched as you snaked it over your head, its slinky fabric hugging your body and revealing your bra with a subtle bounce of your tits. Every part of it, of you, was so shamefully sexy. Eren couldn’t get enough.

As you went to take off your jeans, Eren neared you in a step. His hands closed over yours as if to tell you Let me do it. You watched silently as he opened the front of your jeans, his hands curving around your hips and shimmying the fitted denim down your legs. Once they fell and pooled at your ankles, you kicked them aside. All the while, Eren kissed down the crook of your neck, the spot he learned you liked, especially when he sucked there.

Freed from the constraints of your night-out clothes, you pushed back from him and let yourself collapse onto his bed. You sprawled out with a stretch of your back. It felt so wonderful to lie against the billowy comforter, to finally be off your feet. You nestled around, relaxing like you could have lulled off right then—almost.

The little sound you gave, a sweet moan of relief you didn’t even realize you’d let slip, made Eren’s cock twitch before he could even touch you. The sight of you, ready and beneath him, had him overwhelmed, to say the least. He didn’t know where to look—he didn’t even know where to start.

His fingertips, though lightly calloused, felt exceedingly gentle as he trailed them along your bare skin. So softly that if you shut your eyes, you might not even know he was there. He started below the underwire of your bra, then down the length of your stomach. He tickled at your hipbone, and you squirmed so cutely beneath him.

How sensitive.

Eren wanted to say something witty, but the sight of you stirring below him had him spacey and quiet. Even the chuckle he gave was hardly audible, just a huff through his nose.

He only faltered when he reached the band of your underwear. In his fleeting lucidity, he blinked, hard, like it would clear away the fog. He stared down at you as if you’d given him a reason to be suspicious.

Before you could ask what was wrong, he spoke first. “How are you?”

You mirrored his suspicion, eyebrows knitting together. “I’m good. Um, how are you?”

His face scrunched, and you thought he was about to say Not good. It made you nervous. You perched on your elbows, interested, waiting for him. He ran his fingers through his hair, as he always did when he was trying really hard to concentrate.

“We’re a little past exchanging pleasantries, don’t you think?” you teased, mainly because you didn’t know what else you were supposed to say.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Eren brought his hand to his head as if he could capture his thoughts before they slipped away. “Like, I mean—” Coherency was out of reach, especially with you laid out in front of him, head tilted with curiosity, staring up at him through pretty, heavy lashes. Had they always been that long?

Finally, he blurted out, “Are you still drunk?”

Oh.

You let out the breath of air you were holding. Thinking over your answer, you took an inventory of every feeling in your body, every fiber of your being only wanting him.

“Not really,” you said with a shrug. “Those pancakes were a real lifesaver.”

Eren still looked hesitant. You took his hand in yours and gave a small squeeze, smiling up at him. “I want this. Like, really, really want this.”

That softened him up, and he gave a short laugh. With your assurance, his fingers began their work again, pulling lightly at your underwear. As he played with the fabric, his once-boyish expression turned more brazen as he asked, “Then is it okay if I touch you here?”

His voice was gruff, the timbre of it still ringing in your ears even after he stopped talking.

“Yes,” you murmured, eyes fixed on him, on his fingers. They pushed past your panties despite your hope that he’d take them off entirely.

That single, breathy word gave Eren the go-ahead to crawl over you. He planted one hand into the mattress to hold himself up, the other traced the crease of your thigh teasingly—but it was more like he was teasing himself. You were still propped on your elbows, close enough to Eren that with a tilt of your head, you were kissing him again.

He glided his fingers between you, tracing your entrance but not dipping any further.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned, still playing with you. He’d circle your clit, just until your jaw went slack, then he’d let up. “All for me?”

“Mhm.” You exhaled indulgently when his fingers returned to rubbing your clit. When you lifted your hips, his circles became tighter, quicker, giving you exactly what you needed. You let go then, allowing your wobbly elbows to give out. Eren chased after you, nipping down your neck and leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat.

Eren, Eren, Eren. Thoughts of him, only him consumed you. Consumed by how good he made you feel and every place you wanted him.

And when you cried, “Ah—all for you,” you certainly weren’t thinking about how desperate you sounded for a guy who’d been nothing more than your lab partner until a couple of hours ago.

That made him snap. In one impulsive motion, Eren stood and hooked his fingers around your underwear, tearing them off with ease. Once they were out of his way and lost amongst your other garments, his hand was rightfully back between your legs.

He pumped his middle finger inside you first, curling it just right and putting an arch in your back. You thought he’d be arrogant about it, how he already had you (quite literally) bending to his will, but he was way past that. He was wholly lost in you, every bit of you. Your tiny gasps spilling from your kiss-swollen lips, your bra and how its straps had limply fallen past your shoulder to expose the supple skin of your chest. How pretty your cunt looked taking his finger.

Eren’s pace ignited that delicious, familiar feeling within you. But just as quickly as it began burning in the lowest part of your stomach, you lost it just as fast.

With a frustrated sob, your eyes snapped open to see why he’d so rudely edged you like that.

Eren tore his shirt over his head and threw it aside—another article of clothing you’d have to sort through later. “I wanna go down on you.”

You felt his words hot at the back of your neck—either that, or it was the sight of his deceivingly toned stomach. Or it was the fact that his words didn’t waver as he spoke so freely to you. Whatever it was, you couldn’t decide before Eren started stripping off his jeans. And if you were still unsure why you’d clammed up, the sight of him hard in his boxers–large and threatening to undo you—was most certainly the reason.

You tried your best to look him in the face when you asked, “Don’t you think we should be fast? All of your roommates are home.”

That was the last thing Eren wanted. He wanted to have you, all to himself, for as long as you’d allow.

But that was easy for him to say now; his willpower had already started waning.

“They’re sleeping. Don’t worry about them.” Eren thumbed soothingly against your inner thigh. It made it difficult to say no to him. At least until he cracked a small, devilish smile. “I thought you said you were quiet.”

The daggers you shot him said enough. You had only started to bite back when Eren shut you up. He leaned over you, shrouded you in his warmth—even warmer was his mouth, his tongue, at your neck, running along the silky skin.

Eren sucked at the lobe of your ear, and the airy giggle you gave traveled right to his cock. He kissed your collarbone as he dragged down the cups of your bra. The feeling of his bedroom air against your perked nipples sent goosebumps scattering across your body. His hot tongue quelled the chill, and you rewarded him with a moan—even louder when he took your nipple into his mouth.

You were so, so sensitive. All for him, too. Eren craved to learn every nook on your body he could kiss and every sound you’d make in response. He wanted to discover every last part of you, especially the ones that would have you wrecked.

The kisses continued down your stomach, with him lowering to his knees on the carpet. Taking your legs, one in each hand, he pulled them back to make room to settle between. He placed your thighs on his shoulders and scooted you in close until your bottom half hung off the side of the bed.

Eren palmed over the tops of your thighs and let the flesh mold to his hands. He left kisses there, too, his lips so close to where you wanted him the most.

“Let me taste you.” His voice was a quiet plea. He pressed kiss against your inner thigh, then another, with his eyes fluttering shut like he wanted to savor you. “Please.”

You must have lost your voice somewhere in your throat. You could only nod a response, perhaps a bit too eagerly. Eren gleamed up at you. He clearly wanted to say something but was smart enough not to risk it this time.

He kissed you first, then gave a flat lap of his tongue against you, just a taste. He licked you slowly, and even that was enough to make you suck a breath in through your clenched teeth.

“Spread your legs wider for me.” You did as you were told and swore you felt him grin against you. “Good girl.”

You made a humiliating sound at that. One you didn’t expect, and Eren definitely didn’t expect either. It excited him, knowing how weak you were to his words. His voice. Him.

With you fully on display for him, Eren couldn’t resist burying his face into you. His tongue darted to your clit, each flick another pulse of electricity at the base of your spine.

You raised your hips to meet his mouth. His tongue remained steady, never letting up as he leaned into a rhythm he thought you might like—one that had you lacing your fingers in his hair.

With a little more time, angling and guiding his tongue to just the right spot, you began seeing white behind your eyelids.

“Eren—ah,” you frantically panted, “right there.”

He had his pointed tongue against your clip, licking in tandem with your rocking hips. When your thighs began shaking, he wrapped his arms around them and locked you into place. Even when you swore it was too much, you couldn’t slip away.

Eren continued having you feverishly, filling the bedroom with a mixture of your wispy cries and groans of his own. He was just as desperate for you to come as you felt, worshipping every squeak and squirm he could get from you.

“Eren, I—”

His eyes landed on yours. Not breaking his pace, he replaced his tongue with his thumb. “You want more?”

You swallowed hard and nodded.

“You want my fingers?” His thumb stilled. You mourned the loss only for him to dip his finger inside you.

“Oh, fuck,” you whined. “Yes.”

He used two fingers this time, collecting his spit and your slick before pumping them in and out of you. He leaned in, gave your clit a few kitten licks, and picked up right where he had left off.

You were getting close, so fucking close, and if time could allow for it, you would have stayed in that feeling forever, just shy of becoming entirely undone.

Admittedly, there were many times when you imagined Eren having his way with you, wondering what it’d be like for him to finger and fuck you. But never did you think he’d want you this way, let alone beg for it. And you couldn’t have possibly imagined how the sight would absolutely ruin you.

Eren’s face, flushed in a blossomy pink that spanned his nose and cheeks, shoved between your thighs, devouring you whole as he stretched you with his fingers. You were so wet; he was wet. Soaked, actually, in a mess you might have cared more about if you weren't about to come.

His green eyes, darkened like you’d never seen before, found yours. He moaned. He felt pathetic, unable to stop himself from shoving his boxers down his thighs. He took hold of himself, aching for the slightest bit of relief, because you were quite possibly the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He knew you’d look even better when you were coming on his tongue.

You whimpered when you saw him fisting his cock, nice and fast. He was so hard for you, and you weren’t shy about staring. You were too curious to see how he liked it, watching him fuck his fist with quick breaks to give extra attention to his tip. You thought about how he’d fuck you, how he’d like it then, and it pushed you over the edge.

Your cries came out choppy and strained until they cut out entirely. You sobbed silently, carelessly, rolling your hips over Eren’s tongue and helping his finger dip against that spot over and over again. You wanted to drag out the feeling for as long as you could. By the end, you were trembling, exhausted, and could no longer keep your eyes open.

Eren had to stop pumping himself, or else he would have come from that alone. He sat back on his calves, one of his hands stroking your thigh while his other gently rubbed your clit. His touch was no greater than a feather’s, just to ease you back down. You looked like you needed it, all wrecked, legs limply pulled apart, just like he hoped.

God. He annoyed himself for ever pretending he never wanted you, because you—you were a dream.

And the only thing that could wake him from such a dream was your voice.

“Eren?”

He loved it when you said his name.

You sat up to look at him properly. It felt like there were a ton of bricks on your chest. Eren appeared quite the opposite, entirely unfazed. He had his cheek smushed against your thigh, staring unabashedly at the finger he lazily pushed back inside you. You jolted, still sensitive, still spasming around his finger.

Eren felt mesmerized by the feeling of you sucking him in for more. He didn’t even look up when he replied, “Hm?”

You would have normally found the situation embarrassing, but you were still so touchy from your orgasm that the winding feeling in your stomach had already returned. Coiling tighter and tighter, it begged to snap again.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He loved hearing that even more.

If he were a dog, you’d imagined his ears would have perked up like you said the magic words.

“What was that?” Eren asked, more playfully than you expected. You didn’t like it, especially not when paired with his grin. “I couldn’t hear you. You were mumbling.”

“You heard me the first time.”

He ran his finger down your thigh. “Say it again.”

It tickled. You fussed, “Eren, come on—”

“No, I don’t think that was it. I think you said something else.”

“Just—” You sighed begrudgingly before giving in. “I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me, Eren.”

He positively beamed at you, proud of both you and himself. He reached for his boxers, still hanging mid-thigh, and removed them entirely.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Eren straightened out and didn’t give you the chance to respond before flipping you onto your stomach. You bounced against the mattress when you landed with loud, conspicuous squeaks accompanying you.

You felt Eren’s hand on your shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. His fingers skated lower, down to your bra before undoing the clasp. When you pushed onto your hands, you felt your bra dangle loosely around your arms.

Eren took you by your hips and raised you to your knees.

“You look so pretty like this,” he said as he stroked himself with one hand, giving a light smack to your ass with his other.

“Eren!” you yelped. “Roommates!”

“I thought I told you not to worry about them,” he said, punctuated with another spank.

You could still feel the print of his hand when you heard rustling behind you. You peered over your shoulder to see Eren tearing open a condom. He rolled it onto his cock, all the while, his eyes kept you, naked and with your ass in the air, pinned to the bed.

He flattened a hand against your lower back, then spread you with the tip of his cock aligned with your entrance.

Eren guided himself inside more slowly than he wanted to, listening to you whimper as you adjusted to his size. It was a bit of a stretch but easy enough for him to push inside, having already prepped you with his fingers and mouth, leaving you aching for him to fill you with more.

Once his pelvis was flush against you, he felt you flutter around him, squeezing his cock so perfectly he thought you must be made for him. A low groan bubbled in his throat, nearly a growl. The sound made your heart skip, right between your lungs, and you clenched to encourage another.

“You’re going to make me come if you keep doing that,” Eren said in a hiss of pleasure.

“Doing what?” you asked innocently. Then you did it again.

Despite the warning, Eren didn’t protest it. Instead, he started thrusting into you leisurely. He was self-indulgent about it, spreading you with his hands so he could admire how well you took his cock.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he muttered, quiet enough that it was as if he were talking to himself. “So fucking good.”

“Eren.”

The whine in your voice drove him wild.

His hands, large and demanding, gripped your sides. The blunt ends of his nails dug into the fat of them as he pulled you back to meet every snap of his hips. The smacking sound of skin-on-skin bounced off the bedroom walls, but you didn’t complain this time. You only let your head drop between your shoulders, eyes screwing shut as you became lost in the throes of pleasure all over again.

You reached a hand back to grab ahold of him where you could. He didn’t stop fucking you to ask, “What is it?”

He folded over you, hand snaking up your neck and taking hold of your chin. He turned you to look at him, to see what you wanted. But you couldn’t form anything other than wimpy chants of ah, ah, ah, sounding mangled through your squished cheeks.

“Tell me how you want it.”

His words alone made you bite back a moan.

Finally, you managed to say, “Harder.”

Eren smiled, slack-jawed and toothy, and you would have found it irresistible, yet totally ill-fitting, if you’d have seen it. But how else was he supposed to react?

He placed a kiss at the base of your neck, then between your shoulders. It was unexpectedly doting, until you felt his hand curve around your front. Though you knew what was coming, you still squealed when he hoisted you upright with your back sealed against his chest.

Eren held you there, fucking up into you, harder, like you asked of him. Your flimsy bra flopped around your arms with each of his thrusts. He groped at your breast, taking your nipple between his fingers, rolling and pinching at it until you were mewling.

He continued taking you as if you’d always been his, and you let him have you. You let him use you like you only existed for his pleasure, with your head feeling heavy as it lolled back against him.

But you were so much more than that. Eren was determined to make you come again. This time, he wanted to feel it.

“Touch yourself,” Eren breathed, right into your ear. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. “I want to hear you when you come this time.”

Your hand slithered down between your legs. The very tips of your fingers bumped into Eren’s cock as you got yourself off. Legs quivering with the added pressure, you were practically vibrating when you came, your heart pounding in your ears. There was no double he heard you this time around.

It was a challenge to remain upright. You fell from Eren’s hold and landed forcefully on the bed, him toppling right along with you. You were still riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm as he fucked you deep into the mattress; it had your thighs squeezing together so nicely for him.

“I’m—ah, fuck—I’m close,” Eren grunted.

He surprised you by pulling out, but you realized it was only to roll you onto your back. He manhandled you like you weighed nothing, had your arms tossed above your head and pinned in place with a single hand around your wrists. He pushed back inside you, hard and fast, with a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.

“I need to see you.”

Your stomach flipped at his words as if they were poetry. Fuck. He had you so irrevocably wrapped around his finger, you thought. And perhaps you were merely lovelorn and searching for something that wasn’t there, but you swore he appeared just as ensnared as you.

Your mouth sought out his in a sloppy kiss. It was suckling lips and colliding teeth, smothered grunts and groans as you ground against one another. But you didn’t care. You enjoyed every messy, frantic minute of it.

You wanted to touch him. Wriggling until he released his hold on your wrists, you took his face between your hands. His eyes were moony and heavy-lidded and had you swooning.

“Fuck, Eren—I want you to come,” you gasped.

Easy enough.

He came, hard. As perverted as it may sound, you wished you had a camera. You wanted to remember how his eyes snapped shut and to record every sound. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his hips stuttering, grinding as if he could reach any deeper.

Eren’s breath was hot against your already sweltering skin. It was hard to breathe, especially under his weight, but you wanted to stay there and hold him for a little while longer.

Neither of you spoke. You didn’t realize you’d been grazing your fingers up and down the back of his neck until he lifted off you. He let his gaze linger on your face, one last look, then nudged his nose against yours before getting up.

You laid still, only watching as Eren disposed of the condom. Your legs felt too soft and lazy to move, so you followed him with your eyes instead as he stepped into a pair of sweatpants.

“The invitation to stay the night still stands, right?” you asked. Admittedly, with some sass.

“No, I was actually going to call you an Uber home.” Eren rolled his eyes. “Of course it does. What kind of guy do you take me for?”

You giggled as you finally sat up. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Down the hallway, last door on the right.” Eren took one look at you, then started digging around in his dresser. He tossed something at you, aiming it at your head by the looks of it. You snatched it just in time; it was one of his t-shirts. “You can wear that.”

You held it by the sleeves and gave it a once over. “Is that weird?”

“It wasn’t until you asked that.”

You pulled the tee over your head and adjusted it as you stood. Your underwear came next, but you felt more hesitant to put back on your jeans.

“They’re sleeping, I promise,” Eren assured as he put on a shirt of his own. “Just be quick.”

“Okay.” You left but poked your head back in to say. “I’m leaving the door cracked so I know which room is yours.”

He laughed. “All right.”

You followed his instructions, trying to be quick about it. You peed, washed your hands, and only stared at the fresh hickey on your collarbone for ten seconds before rushing back down the hallway.

Eren was in bed when he saw the door swing open. “Look at you, Ms. C Plus, not getting lost.”

You made a face at him. “Whatever, Brian.”

Right on cue, he complained, “It was one time.”

For whatever reason, you didn’t join him in bed right away. You felt a bit like a deer in headlights, blinking at Eren. He looked sleepy, his hair unkempt from your fingers. Seeing him like this, with you dressed in his shirt, about to curl up under his sheets—were you supposed to go along with this as if it were normal?

When you finally thought of something to say, Eren cut in first, “Don’t you dare try to take the couch after that.”

That was exactly what you were about to do.

He chuckled, knowing he was right by the stubborn purse of your lips. He lifted the blanket for you—once again, as if this were entirely normal for you to do—and said, “Get over here already. I’m getting cold.”

Eren was extremely difficult to say no to, but you knew that already. You crawled into his bed without contest and let him tuck the comforter over you.

Either his pillows were really soft, or you just felt that exhausted because your eyelids went immediately heavy. Eren reached over you to turn out the light, then let his arm fall on top of you. He hugged your waist and didn’t hesitate to pull you into him.

He nuzzled into the back of your neck, stealing a giggle from you. “Are you always this clingy after sex?”

Eren hummed an affirmative sound, tickling you again. He was most definitely never this clingy after sex. But there was no way he could keep his hands to himself, not with how good you looked in his shirt, barely long enough to cover anything. Maybe his tensions in lending you his shirt weren’t entirely pure—so sue him. You wearing his clothes was a sight he could get used to. One he had a feeling he’d get to see much more often.

thank you so much for reading ♡

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs