if you strip away ink's driving force, his whole motivation for protecting the AUs and keeping up his morally grey rules and never touching scripts — the WHOLE point of ink's character - then what's left? that's not ink, at that point. that's a completely different character.
people will agree that ink is autistic coded and ADHD coded, but will then turn around and call his emotions fully fake/artificial. can we see the... obvious issue with that?
yes, he does get his emotions from something that isn't a soul. they have the ability to choose what he does and doesn't feel. a small part of it is pretend, because he can't get the full experience. but he chooses to keep his vials balanced anyway, because it's pretty disorienting for him otherwise and he doesn't like it when they aren't. his emotions coming from vials instead of a soul doesn't make what they feel and experience any less unique to him. there is obviously a disconnect between how he experiences emotions VS how other people experience emotions (neurodivergent people experiencing emotions differently from neurotypical people COUGH), but it doesn't mean that they should be discredited and written off as completely fake. he has real love and care for his dads; even when he forces himself to abide by his own rules in a scenario where one of their dads dies, he is still so CLEARLY distraught, grief-stricken, and torn up over it. should that not be taken into account at all?
ink protects the AUs to keep the creators happy, because without the creators, they have no source of paints. and without his paints, he isn't anyone or anything. he isn't alive. they're a hollow, dead husk of a skeleton, forever unmoving and lifeless. if we take that away — and the only real consequence of them not being able to access his vials are oh he's still alive they just can't feel things — then what's the point? what are they doing all this for? what is he protecting the AUs for, what is he protecting the scripts for, what is he doing all of this for? the backing behind his actions and morals become a lot less impactful, and seem a lot less important, if the only reason he's doing it is to feel things. it lowers the stakes by quite a lot.
anyway shoutout @shipkid we had a convo on this and i got some of these points from it 🥹✌️
You couldn’t sleep, that restless heat before your period keeping you awake, so you woke him up in the middle of the night. Though your husband's tired, he gives in and lets you take control by riding him. What started soft and needy quickly turned rougher—you riding him hard, him gripping you and taking control when you faltered. He teased, scolded, and pushed you until you broke apart, messy and crying in his arms. In the end, you were both spent, sweaty, and tangled together, ruined but held close.
˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖2,232 words, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), you're a little bratty, riding-> then he holds you to his chest and fucks you before making you ride... again, degradation & praise, dirty talk, name calling (e.g., ma/mama, slut, pretty girl, sweetheart, whore, etc), spanking, no condom(wrap the willy), he pulls out, etc˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖
❤︎ 18+ 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓓𝓸 𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 ❤︎
The room was dark and quiet, the only sound the steady rhythm of his breathing. You shifted beside him, restless, heat pooling low in your stomach like it always did before your cycle. It was unbearable—the ache, the need—and you couldn’t help yourself.
You pressed your face against his shoulder, voice low and needy. “Baby…”
He stirred with a sigh, not even opening his eyes at first. “Sweetheart,” his voice was rough with sleep, “what time is it?”
“Three” you whispered, almost guilty but too desperate to stop. Your thighs were already squeezing together, your pulse thrumming. “I can’t help it. I’m horny.”
Another sigh, this one heavier. He rolled onto his back, rubbing at his face. “Christ, honey… that’s two nights in a row. You’re gonna wear me out.”
You pouted, smacking your palm lightly against his chest, nightgown bunching a little as you moved. “Don’t be mean.”
His hand slid over his face again, then dropped to rest heavy on your thigh. “I’m tired,” he muttered.
You hit him again, softer, half-whining.
Finally, he cracked one eye open, looking at you with that mix of annoyance and affection only he could manage. “Fine. Get on top then.”
Your heart jumped, lips tugging into a smile as you swung a leg over his waist. You straddled him, lifting your nightgown up over your thighs. Before you reached for him, you tugged your bonnet back into place, adjusting it carefully, ignoring the way he huffed a laugh at the sight.
“Gotta look right,” you mumbled, more to yourself, before pulling his dick free of his briefs. He was heavy and warm in your hand, already thickening just from your touch.
Settling over him, you guided the head against your slick folds, gasping when it nudged against your entrance. He gripped your hips, eyes barely parted, watching the way you teased yourself on him.
“Go on then,” he rasped, voice low and edged with sleep. “Take what you wanted so bad you had to wake me up for it.”
You sank down slow, the stretch making your eyes flutter. His dick filled you inch by inch, and your lips parted, breath shaky.
“Mmm…” you moaned, hands braced against his chest as you bottomed out, the weight of him deep inside.
Your thighs trembled as you eased yourself into a steady rhythm, rocking against him, savoring the deep stretch of his dick filling you to the hilt. Each slow roll of your hips made you moan softly, little broken sounds that slipped into the quiet of the room. You were wet enough that every motion drew out a slick, lewd sound, your arousal dripping down to dampen his briefs bunched low around his hips.
He kept his eyes closed at first, head sunk into the pillow, his hand still heavy on your hip. Every so often, he let out a low grunt or a quiet moan, the kind of sound that rumbled from his chest and made you clench tighter around him.
You rode him like that for a while—slow, sensual, almost lazy. But the ache in your belly only grew sharper, needier. You leaned forward and pressed one palm to his stomach, sliding it under his t-shirt. Your nails scraped over his skin, dragging lines across his abs as you bounced harder, faster.
His breath caught, and his eyes cracked open. Hooded, half-dreaming, but watching you now—your nightgown bunched high, bonnet crooked, your lips parted around breathy moans, the slick sound of your cunt taking him raw filling the room. His lips parted too, a faint grunt pushing past them as he shifted his grip, squeezing your hip tighter.
“Fuck…” he muttered, voice rough, gravelly with sleep. “You’re lucky I love the way you feel.”
That only spurred you on—you fucked yourself down on him harder, wetter now, your moans rising into whines. The drag of him inside was unbearable, thick and perfect, hitting so deep your stomach clenched.
“Mghn—ahh” you gasped, nails digging into him as your hips snapped down, creamy arousal coating his dick with every grind. “You feel so fucking good—”
His gaze dragged over you slowly, hungry even through the haze of sleep. He groaned again, hips lifting just enough to meet your movements, driving deeper, making your breath hitch.
You rode him faster, tits bouncing with each movement, sweat pearling on your skin, voice catching as you gave him everything—your whimpers, your nails, the sight of your body working his cock like you were made for it.
His eyes stayed on you, hooded and dark, lips parted around another low moan.
“Messy little thing,” he rasped, voice thick with sleep but edged. “Getting wetter the longer you use me. Gonna make yourself cum on this dick, ma?”
Your hips faltered for a moment, thighs burning from the effort, and you let out a shaky little moan. He felt it immediately—the drag of your rhythm slowing, your body trying to take mercy on itself.
“Uh-uhn,” he murmurs, eyes still half-lidded but sharp enough. “Keep going.”
“Mhm,” you whimpered, nodding fast, biting down on your lip as you tried to grind faster, harder, the stretch almost too much but addictive all the same.
He watched the struggle, the way your mouth parted, the way your brows furrowed and eyes watered just a little as your body worked him. A dark smirk curled at his mouth.
“Shameless.” he muttered, voice edged with heat. “Waking me up at three in the damn morning just to sit on this dick. You’re so fucking nasty, you know that?”
A flush burned through your chest at his words, your thighs quivering. His hand released your waist and he slapped your ass, his filthy way of trying to spur you on. You wined at the sharp stinging sensation.
He groaned low, thrusting his hips up into you once, hard enough to make you yelp. “Faster. I didn’t tell you to slow down.”
You rocked slow, already sensitive. “I—fuck—you shouldn't talk—ah—you’re making me do all the work,” you gasped, nails clawing at his chest.
That got him. He sighed like you’d tried his patience, then suddenly his big arm was wrapping tight around your waist, hauling you down flush to him. His other hand came up, rough and certain, wrapping around your jaw and squeezing until your lips jutted in a pout.
Your eyes went wide, lips parted around a soft, broken sound.
“Watch your mouth,” he scolded, his hips snapping up into you, hard and fast, making your whole body jolt with each deep thrust. “You’re the one who woke me up begging for dick. You should be grateful I even let you ride me, slut.”
Fresh tears pricked at your lashes, your breath coming in high-pitched moans as his dick slammed into you, raw and deep, stretching you in a way that bordered on too much.
“Mmghn—oh god—” you gasped, voice breaking as your nails dug harder into his chest, leaving deep cresent marks as your mind slipped sideways with the force of his thrusts.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he grunts against your mouth, eyes locked, lips curled. “Cry for it. Take what you asked for.”
You keen, wet and whimpering, eyes glassy as you felt him battering deep inside, his grip on your jaw forcing your gaze to stay locked with his. Your thighs shook, your walls fluttering around him, every stroke drawing you closer even as his voice scolded, edged with possession.
“Ungrateful little brat,” he gritted, jaw tight as he kept fucking into you. “So mouthy, but you always listen when it counts, don’t you? You love me putting you in your place.”
You nodded frantically, lips trembling under the pressure of his hand, every thrust pulling a needy moan from your throat, your whole body screaming yes even as tears spilled from the corners of your eyes.
His thrusts never lost rhythm—deep, rough, unforgiving—forcing your body to take him over and over.
“Don’t pout at me,” he teases, voice low and edged, his breath hot against your face. “You wanted this. You woke me up begging, and now you’re gonna take it the way I give it.”
His hips snapped harder, making you yelp. He swallowed the sound with a deep groan, lips parted, eyes blown. Your walls clutching him with desperate pulses.
You pant, clinging to him, your body burning, splitting, drowning in him.
“Please—ah—!” your voice cracked, high and broken, “please—”
“Mm, I love hearing that,” he rasped, pushing deeper until your walls spasmed around him, soaked and messy. “My sweet girl, dripping all over me, crying for it. Look at you. So fucking needy.”
Your eyes rolled back when he hit that spot again and again, and you could feel your body trembling on the edge, teetering. But just when you thought he’d let you break, he released his grip on your jaw and waist, leaving you suddenly free, trembling and desperate.
“Go on,” he said, leaning back into the pillows, sweat glistening at his temple, lips curling as he watched you. “Ride it. Show me how bad you need it.”
Your thighs burned as you shifted, lifting yourself just enough to start bouncing again, his cock dragging deliciously through your slick walls. Your head tipped back, moans spilling out, wetter and louder than before.
He groaned low in his chest, one big hand sliding down between your thighs, thumb circling your clit. You gasped, body jolting, hips stuttering as the pleasure doubled.
“Ohhh—fuck, I—” you whimper, bouncing faster now, the mix of his dick stirring your insides and his thumb working your swollen clit making you gush wetter, dripping down his shaft.
“Messy little problem,” he grunted, watching his dick disappear into you, creamy and soaked. “So nasty and perfect. Can’t even wait ‘til morning—had to wake me up dripping for it.”
Your moans broke higher, tears streaking your cheeks as you rode him harder, his thumb rubbing fast and dirty over your clit. He groaned with every bounce, his eyes fixed on you, dark, lips parted, savoring the sight of you falling apart but not giving you permission yet.
“Keep going, ma,” he ordered, voice a low drawl. “Show me you’re grateful. Show me how much you need this dick.”
Your thighs shook, your body begging to give in, but he only pressed harder at your clit, drawing it out, dragging your need to the very edge without letting you tumble over.
Your thighs were trembling, muscles screaming, but you didn’t dare stop. His dick kept splitting you open, sliding in deep and raw.
“God—oh, baby—” your voice pitched, cracked and broken, breathless from the pace. Your lashes fluttered, lips parted and glistening with spit as your head tipped back.
“That’s it,” he rasped, voice low and rough, every word vibrating against your chest where you leaned into him. His hand at your waist held you steady while his other worked between your thighs. “Look at you. Falling apart on my dick. So fucking wet for me.”
More tears streaked hot down your cheeks as the pressure built unbearable. “F–fuck, I can’t—” you sobbed, bouncing harder, messy and uncoordinated now, your wetness gushing down his shaft.
“Yes you can,” he snapped, eyes locked on you, sweat beading at his brow. Breath ragged, but his stare never wavered. “You’re gonna cum for me, sweetheart. Right here, right now. Cream all over this dick—come on. Be good for me.”
His thumb pressed harder, circling tight, and that was it. Your whole body seized as your orgasm tore through you, violent and raw. You screamed his name, thighs shaking uncontrollably, your pussy squeezing around him in desperate pulses, soaking him as you collapsed forward.
“That’s it,” he groaned, gritting his teeth as he fucked you through it, keeping you bouncing, milking him while you shattered. His eyes burned into yours when you lifted your head, dazed and wet-faced, your lips trembling. “Mghn—so pretty. Look at you.”
Your body shook, tears blurring your vision, but you held his gaze. Even while your orgasm ripped through you, you saw him watching—hungry, proud, undone by how desperate you were for him.
He hissed, groaned deep, He pulled out fast, stroking himself rough until he spilled hot and messy over your stomach, streaking your skin, painting across the underside of your tits.
“Goddamn, baby” he panted, voice frayed, chest heaving as his release dripped down your belly.
You were still shaking, your thighs weak, lips glossy and parted, chest heaving. You smeared some of his mess across your belly with shaky fingers, half-worn, half-proud, and he only smirked, pulling you down into his arms, sweat-slick and sticky between you both.
His mouth pressed to your temple, giving a sweet peck before he whispered into your hair, "Got it out your system?"
tomodachi.... save me tomodachi...
(That colorKiller happened all on its own, otherwise BlueMoon wuld be canon on that island, IT IS NOT CANON IN THE ISLAND.... smh first couple and marriage, Killer wants kids now, man is the one who confesed and proposed, Color is just happy to be there
Ink is friends with everyone, makes me proud and happy, my boy you doing good! )
𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜𝐼𝒩𝒮 ⨾ ( 4k+ ) words of . . . nsfw, eren jäeger x fem reader ( black coded ), eren is german/turkish, he speaks a looot of german, established relationship, pussywhipped!eren, linguerotics, rennie’s tatted, size kink, missionary, mating press, spanking, light choking, biting, creampie, use of pet names ( e.g. angel, princess, schatzi, papa, daddy, etc. ) explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!
𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇.ᐟ🪽 ⸻ based off this ask! i wrote this in one sitting so pls bear with me lol >.< i've just been feelin oh so sappy in loveee for eren lately, and the thought of him groaning broken german into ur ear . . wow i think i just creamed ooof lord . i highly recommend using a translate feature as you read! overall, i'm super excited to officially dive back into AoT with this piece yayyy! it's a lil something sweet for ‘ren’s belated birthday until the real treat finishes baking! thank you so much for reading, and please enjoy! ❤︎
𝐼𝒩𝒮𝑃𝒪 𝑇𝑅𝒜𝒞𝒦.ᐟ ( ♫ ) angel, the weeknd ⨾ too deep, dvsn ⨾ do it well, dvsn ⨾ spontanverkher, and one ⨾ touched by an angel, lloyd
when it comes to love, eren is vocal. he finds it to be the most beautiful language, unspoken yet understood through warmth, heart, touch. that’s what make it come easy to him.
despite his many tongues, he isn't a man who lingers over words. not deliberately, at least. there isn't any careful scripting to the way he speaks, no rehearsed cadence meant to charm or ensnare. and yet, somehow, he always knows what to say.
he knows. that exact murmur that'll settle warm against your ear, low and smooth when he instructs you to stay close, hold onto him, spread your legs wider, arch your back further . . . he knows, the subtle shift in tone that sends a ripple down your spine, the kind that makes your body listen. his voice moves through him without thought.
when considering his mother tongue, though, you almost feel as though he avoids it with you. eren doesn’t go out of his way to shape his tongue around german, not when he knows the meaning would be lost somewhere between his lips and your understanding. he never makes any deliberate attempt to impress you with a language you can't follow. he speaks to you in ways you will understand, in ways that settle easily into you, invoke your pretty smile.
it’s his pet names that linger instead— sounding all soft and familiar, worn warm from use. the ones he returns to without thinking, like second nature. schatzi. simply sweet. ever so precious. the word curls from his mouth with an ease that feels almost absentminded, yet never careless. and liebling, his favorite, his darling. it’s usually spoken quieter, closer, like it belongs to you and him alone.
those are the few words you come to know. not by translation, but how they’re given. by the way his voice lowers around them, the way they brush against your skin like something tangible.
mixed by blood, eren's heritage lives in the small details about him more than anything else; his cadence, his features, his mannerisms. he doesn't necessarily talk about it. his tongues, german and turkish, live elsewhere. like in fleeting moments on the phone with his family, voice softened with a familiarity different from the kind he shows you.
it's admirable, how effortlessly he slips into the rhythm of home when catching up with his mother and father. you hear it only then, in fragments and tones, something distant. you try to glimpse into that part of him, but he leaves it unshared.
it isn't that your boyfriend withholds any aspects of his life, or his culture, from you. rather, he lets untranslatable words fall as they come, shaped more by his feeling than intentionality. there's a certain intimacy in that. he thinks that you don't have to understand every syllable to feel the weight of it.
because with him, it's about how it lingers in the space between you long after the words have fallen away.
you know eren doesn’t make much use of deutsch in his everyday life, no. it remains tucked away as the one thing he doesn't reach for, but something that exists all the same. and maybe, that's what makes it all the more enticing, when it surfaces in the moments his control finally begins to slip.
it’s in those instances, when his breath grows uneven and composure frays at the edges, that something from deep within him begins to rise unbidden. words he doesn't consciously choose, tones he typically wouldn't shape, leaving him in a low, broken lilt. there's nothing intentional about it, just the rawness of instinct when the sensation is so overwhelming that he can't help himself any longer.
and in that unraveling, there's something disarmingly sensual. not just the act itself, or the hot slide of his hands when he touches you, but a side of him that can't be hidden away, revealed only when he's too far gone to hold it back.
"scheisse!"
it slips out of him without warning. his mind’s so muddled by the way your dewy walls squeeze his cock that he doesn’t even think to translate. he’s drawn fully into the hilt of your gushing pussy, his presence heavy both in-and-outside of you. he's got you splayed out on your back, displayed ever so beautifully, soft textured hair fanning out on the pillows, like that of a halo. how fitting, for his precious angel.
eren has you tucked under the breadth of him and slovenly folded into missionary, your body immovably pressed beneath the heat and heaviness of his imposing frame. his attention narrows on you, you, you, until nothing else seems to exist outside of it.
your trembling leg is held in his left palm, secured at the pit of your knee as he guides it up against your shoulder as a means to fucks deeper into you. his other hand rests hot upon your waist, grip tightening whenever you react, kneading at warm brown flesh whenever you clamp down on him. he's unrelenting with how he draws out, plows in, does it again, again, again. dense clapping resounds in hollow echoes throughout the dim-lit bedroom of his paradis-city penthouse.
"e—ren! eren, erennn,” his name falls fractured from your lips, each syllable hitching as it leaves you. he hears it, and something in him shifts. a slow, unmistakable reaction that pulls at the corner of his mouth before it fully settles into a smile. it spreads wide, brazen and sharp in a way that looks as feral as he feels; all teeth, cutting sharp and boyish across his face, features drawn tight with ardor.
pleasure has already taken hold of him; face flushed, sweat gathering and rolling in narrow paths down his skin. his dark manbun sits slightly undone at the base of his head, loose strands slipping free to cling to his temples and the nape of his neck, his tattooed body damp with the same heat that coats him. his brows, thick and dark, knit tightly together, while his bright-teal eyes stay intense and wild, fixed on you with a look that doesn’t waver. you’re his maker and weakness alike, the only thing holding his focus together as he unravels for you.
"komm schon, engel," eren dips low, his large frame folding over yours, shoulders rounding as he closes the space between you, brushing the plush of your lips with his own. "hngh, wha—?" you whine against his mouth, needing of clarity. his breath is warm and close when he murmurs, earnest for a taste of your lips, "küss mich."
you don’t fully comprehend him, but eren closes the gap regardless, until there’s nowhere left for your voice to go but into him. his large hand lifts up, cups your jaw nice and steady, tilts you upwards just enough to meet him as he presses his lips to yours. firm at first, then deeper, more claiming than it is gentle. when he pulls back, it’s only by a breath’s width, enough for the curve of his smile to linger against your mouth.
his hips take to a slow roll, grinding into yours so sweetly. the rounded end of his hard cock nudges the inner pudge of your softest spots, with the lean ridge of his pelvis brushing over the sensitive peak of your clit. the both of you hold no inhibitions, breaths pouring into each other's mouths in uneven waves, panting and moaning with not a sound refrained.
him and you, you and him, him in you. all sense becomes lost in a heated slew of sloppy strokes and the wettest kisses. he's making such a mess of you; stealing your breath, bruising your flesh, fucking stirring your insides.
for eren, countless sensations begin to merge. your velveteen walls are clamping down, tight, on his pulsing dick, dripping and sobbing all over the length of it. then there's the way you cling to him, just ferocious. the powder-white arch of your fresh nails do well at drawing fiery marks down the broad plane of his tatted back. his olive skin is warm and damp under your palms, glowing sheen with a film of sweat.
your breath brushes against the reddening shell of his pierced ear, sounds uneven and soft in a way that makes him grow impossibly harder. eren responds in kind, groans amplified, his hold at your waist tightening just enough to keep you anchored to the you-shaped dip in his king sized mattress. you're so pretty, so perfect; behaving so well that all he wants to do is just give you more.
so he does.
"shh, lass mich einfach . . stillhalten." eren’s hands span down your shaking thighs, dancing around around your calf until they close around both of your ankles. his fingers wrap fully, thumbs rubbing circles while the rest of his grip adjusts you without effort. he translates what he knows you didn't catch, "don't move."
eren shapes the physical space between you, and he continues to bend you at angles until the right silhouette is captured. he brings your knees toward your shoulders, folding the form until thighs press firmly against the core of your tummy. shifting his weight low, he transitions into a deep squat, strong thighs flexed as he assumes the position of sitting on his haunches, all without pulling out of you.
with the new vantage, he drives forward and plunges into the tightness of you with sudden, intense momentum that draws the sharpest, most involuntary cry from your lungs— a sound that brings a knowing smile to his face. eren frees self-satisfied laughter, for he always manages to pry out the very reaction he sought to provoke. he finds your body familiar. so easy to mold, too easy to play with.
"ffuuuck! p-please, papaaa, please—"
his response comes rippling out as an unintended growl, sourced from the depths of his chest, and the bass of it makes you clench helplessly around him. with every surge, every thrust forward, he loses another piece of his restraint. an especially taut squeeze of your soaked pussy is all it takes for his snark to dissolve into total surrender.
"fuck . . du bist so eng," his words grow reckless to match just how you undo him. he rambles on about just how tight you are, freeing terribly desperate praise and german incoherencies. he's too far gone to realize he'd even switched languages. frankly, eren doesn't even know what he's saying anymore, and you sure as hell don’t either. it’s hard to follow when he’s digging you out like that; hips slamming down, the fat of his balls clapping against the seam of your ass with every thrust.
more foreign words tumble from his lips— dark, guttural, yet somehow melodic, leaving you in a haze of both lust and confusion. despite it, your body understands the intent perfectly. the way you arch into him, cunt swallowing every known inch of his dick whole, slick walls clamping around him like a desperate vice, tells him everything he needs to know.
eren finally seems to be returning to himself, eyes clearing as he grows aware; and with that, comes the teasing. another predatory smirk pulls at his mouth as he realizes just how cockdrunk he’s made you, sensitive even down to the veins that drag within you. and so, he draws out the friction, slows his pace to an agonizing crawl, buries himself into you with impossible depth.
each heavy thrust knocks at your cervix and prods at the very limit of you, blunt and demanding, as if he’s trying to leave his mark on your very soul. he's so all-consuming that the heady scent of his skin and the licking heat of his salt-slicked body fills your lungs. you’re crying, you think, unsure as to when it started. all you know is you’re breathing him in, tasting the raw, primal edge of him with every gasp and tear you choke on.
"aww, poor baby,” he croons, tone darkened with condescend, “macht dich das an, schatzi?" he murmurs, the grunted slew of german humming against your skin. he’s asking if it turns you on— the suddenly rough shift into his mother tongue, and though the meaning of his words escape your mind, you can only nod helplessly, teeth sinking into the swell of your spit-streaked lip as a flush burns across your chest.
"feels good, yeah? i'm fucking you so deep, aren't i? mm, c'mon, angel . . . talk to me, talk to daddy." he eases more of his weight onto your pressed frame, feeding you deep, languid strokes so slow you can hear the wetness sloshing.
"yeahhh, it's good, er-en . . hnn, feelssogood, d-daddyyy," his name tears out of you in a pulled shudder, the syllables breaking over one another. it’s the type of sound that invites his wolfish grin, curled with a special kind of satisfaction. his smile is purely predatory when he gets to hitching your leg up higher, rocking into you faster. the lewdness of unfiltered noise begins to swell throughout the room.
before long, you're both trembling over the pace he’s taken; his fingers twitching along your pushed-up thighs, while you're left grappling for purchase along his bulging, corded biceps, your fingers digging into the sinuous centipede inked across his firm rounded muscle. frantically, you cling to one another as the world outside seems to fade away.
eren leans in, ink-dark strands escaping his hairtie, feathering your neck, and cascading over his shoulder to curtain your faces. overzealous, he captures your lips with his own once more, silencing your soft sounds with a deep kiss that tastes as saccharine as love itself, wettened by the salted twinge of adrenaline. his moans tumble out of him helplessly once you get to licking at his tongue. he juts it out for you to suckle on.
the tension brews to a fever pitch. you’re close, and so is he.
"komm und hol mich," he wants—no, needs you to cum for him, pleads in breathless sounds so gritty that you can feel them pass through your bones. those bright-teal eyes, glassed over with brimming tears of pleasure, desperately lock onto yours. his touch is just as urgent.
eren brings the calloused pad of his thumb to your clit, each deliberate rub a targeted press that sends fresh jolts of heat spiraling through your tummy, makes your hips buck up into the onslaught. his breath comes out in ragged puffs as his fleshy, kiss-bruised lips meet your ear, grazing the shell, words unfamiliar yet sweet all the same. “komm auf meinen schwanz, bitte.” the vulnerable rawness of his voice is a love language all in its own. something in you knows to follow his command, even if the meaning is a mystery.
that building pressure low in your gut begins to coil, tightening into a concentrated knot that demands release. it’s a heavy, mercurial ache that pulses in sync with his movements, making your vision swim as you reach the precipice. your every nerve-ending screams for the sweet, sweet release that only his next deliberate strike can provide.
as for eren, his focus is simply fractured; hands moving with a restlessness that betrays how close he is to the edge. he lifts his free hand to knead and possess the soft weight of your right breast, his grip firm and demanding, before his fingers lift to heedlessly lace around your neck, as a means to keep you pinned in the middle of the storm of his movements.
that same grasp trails away from pressing your artery, slinks down, and squeezes a big, greedy handful of ass into one palm alone. he delivers one smack— two, three. the fourth leaves red in its wake, blooming faint along warm-brown flesh. he merely smiles when you mewl at him.
the combination he grants you is far too much, too fucking frantic; the stinging heat of his palm against your skin and the possessive weight of his hand at your throat leaves you feeling hazy and unmoored, your thoughts dissolving into a thoughtless, honeyed fog.
a few more of those slowed, plunging thrusts, paired with how nicely he toys with your puffy clit, is what finally shatters the dam and sends rolling waves of your orgasm to crash right through you. it washes over, heavy and thick, the feeling purely electric as it zips through the base of your spine all the way down to your tightly curled toes. your quivering legs lock around his lean waist as he fucks you through the height of it, dark-chestnut hair swinging over hunched shoulders.
"don't you let go yet— m'not done." eren rasps against your agape lips, voice a broken wreck. he taps your soft cheek in two firm pats when your eyes begin to flutter shut, peers at you through hooded eyes, forcing bitten words out through grit teeth, "look at me, schatzi," his fingers tangle into the soft, dense curls of your hair to tilt your head his way. "you came so fuckin' hard, tell me you felt that—shit! mm, p-please, baby . . tell me you’re mine."
you manage to open your mouth, try for an answer, but every brutal impact of his hips knocks the air from your chest, splintering your voice into meaningless little sounds. the rhythm of his pounding, loud and heavy, turns shaky and imprecise as he utterly loses the battle for control. you can see the strain in the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, his breath hitching as he teeters on the edge.
eren frames your face with a sudden tenderness, his large hands encompassing either side of your head as if you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth itself. he pulls you in until your foreheads touch, eyes locking in a feral, heavy-lidded stare that teases at his release. you babble out his name with every sloppy knock of his hips.
your inner walls clamp down in a steady, involuntary pulse around him, and the friction becomes too much for him to bear. then comes a guttural sound, ripping straight from his chest, followed by a smaller, vulnerable whimper that echoes out, almost like a plea:
"scheisse, ich komme— fffuuuck!"
he jolts forward with an almost animalistic force, burying himself to the very hilt as the first warm, heavy spurts of his release spill free from his cockhead and into your awaiting womb. you feel him throbbing deep within your silken walls, the pulsing erratic as he stuffs your cunt with thick loads of his cum; emptying himself, filling you.
a hushed stillness sets over eren's thirtieth-floor apartment. all movement drifts to a weighty pause; until, eren eventually collapses his full weight onto you with a long, shuddering sigh. the solid, unyielding mass of him drives a soft huff out from your throat, pinning you into the charcoal sheets in a way that feels strangely grounding.
his inked forearms bind around you like vines, pulling your bodies flush-tight until there’s no room left between you. in turn, you drape your arms over the broad expanse of his back, your thumbs tracing soothing circles over the angry, reddened lines of the skin you tore.
"ugh— rennie, you're heavy."
"mmn." is his heedless response. you both lie there in a tangled, breathless heap of afterglow, your lungs working for shallow air as the adrenaline begins to recede. after threading through the dark, damp silk of his long hair, weaving and undoing braids in the same sitting, your arms finally loosen their hold around his nape. eren nuzzles his face into the soft swell of your breasts, the tip of his nose grazing the sensitive bone of your sternum as he seeks out your warmth.
a small, balmy laugh escapes you, the sound light and surreal against the dense, syrup-thick atmosphere. the air is heavy, saturated with the salt-sharp scent of skin, the musk of his cologne, the lingering sugar of your arab perfume, and the sweet, pungent tang of your collective release— a sensory memento of every orgasm you just shared.
"damn . .” the silence breaks around his voice, low and winded, “didn't think y’had a kink for that."
"hmm," you blink slow, the wisps of your curled lashes fluttering. "for what?"
"uh-uh, don't play dumb now," eren noses your jugular, tickling your neck with a nudge so fleeting you can’t help but break, a shy giggle bubbling up and out into the open. "could've just told me you wanted me to switch languages, princess."
“i didn't even know it was something i’d enjoy that much," you bite down on a drowsy laugh, manicured fingers lifting to idly twirl a stray, dark lock of his hair. you’re secretly glad his hair-tie snapped under the pressure.
"i like the way your brain just . . . shorts out when you hear it. makes you so . . ." a kiss, breaking the pattern of speech, is pressed to your upturned lips, so pink and soft.
“—much more," another, then a suckle to your jaw, "—responsive." there's a gravel-like texture to the sound of his teasing. "i don't think i've ever heard you get that loud before, baby.” eren hums aloud onto your skin, a low rumble of pure satisfaction that thrums low in his throat and vibrates against your chest.
he shifts his weight just enough to pepper wet, uncoordinated kisses along the sensitive expanse of your throat, his every movement sluggish with pleasure.
“verdammt gut,” he murmurs against your skin, testing the effect he has over you, simply wishing to witness how tightly you’d pulse around him in response. sure enough, he smiles to himself when you do, walls clamping down where he remains stuffed inside you. a whispered moan falls from you, eyes screwed impossibly tight.
his lips latch to your pulse as he mouths praises you don’t need to translate to understand. the meaning sounds as sweet as his kisses taste. “du bist so gut, liebling.” even though his brain's misted over with lust, and his dick is still warmly nestled deep inside you, he can’t help but nip playful marks into your flesh. you find yourself cooing at his affections, your fingers tangling in the deep-brown spill of his hair as you shallowly rock your hips onto his softening cock.
he mumbles more foreign little nothings into the damp, sweat-slicked crook of your neck, the tone so tender it feels like a physical caress.
“ich liebe dich so sehr, angel . . .” he breathes, the confession soft and embracing against your skin. it’s meaning is devotional, so unmistakable; he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.
the ardency of the past hour's lovemaking seems to evaporate, leaving only the two of you sinking in the cooling sheets. from the crevice of your chest to his broadened one, your hearts beat heavy against one another in a synced tempo.
with one last, lingering kiss to your collarbone, eren lets his heavy eyelids fall shut. the silence that follows isn't empty. instead, it’s full and warm, smelling of salt, sandalwood, and the raw fragrancy of his adoration.
the darkness of the room feels like a protective veil. in the stillness, with his warmth still grounding you and his scent filling your lungs, you finally let your own eyes close, drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep cradled in the arms of the man who loves you more than he has the words to say.
The avatar fandom is one of those places where you have about 5 months around the film’s release where there is like 20 fics a minute and then complete radio silence until the next film releases 2000 decades later.
