fratboy!gojo and fratboy!eren who originally made it a bet to see who could get you to fold first, the prize being bragging rights and an unlimited supply of weed. they both approached you at the same time with a subtle “hey” before handing you a cup of alcohol. they kinda just bullshitted with you the whole time. asking you obvious questions like, “oh you’re in our chem class right?” “i think you sit a few seats away from us.”
fratboy!gojo and fratboy!eren who thought it would be funny to ask you about your sex life, but to their complete surprise, you complied and told them everything. what you’re into, your kinks, fantasies, wet dreams you’ve had. all they could do is listen with their mouths wide open and their cocks hard. what started as a bet unfolded into something much more interesting, and much more dangerous. who knew the smartest girl in class turned out to be a slut?!
fratboy!gojo and fratboy!eren who mutually agreed to end the party early just to get a taste of your pussy. none of them caring about the bet anymore, they just wanted to watch the pretty nerd break like a kit kat and fall apart on their cocks. they wanted to do everything you fantasized about to you.
fratboy!gojo and fratboy!eren whose fucking you into oblivion. they have you laying your back on the couch, gojo’s cock sinked deep into your wet pussy and eren standing up, roughly fucking his cock into your mouth. you were slobbering and drooling all over his shaft while gojo’s cock abused your tight hole, his hand rubbing circles around your sensitive twitching clit.
fratboy!gojo and fratboy!eren who talk to you like you’re nothing but a fucktoy to them. “fuuckk yeahh— tell me who this pussy belongs to. us, right?” “fuckin’ love how this virgin pussy feels wrapped around my cock. god you feel so tight and warm.” “gonna make sure our cocks is the only thing you think about. no more stupid chemistry or math— just us.”
fratboy!gojo whose quite literally double comboing you, the feeling nauseating. he’s fucking and choking you at he same time, hips snapping into your pussy as he continues to hit that spot that makes you see stars. “slutty nerds gonna cum all over my cock? aww poor bab— wait— you said you need to pee?!”
fratboy!eren who stares in absolute disbelief as he watches you squirt all over gojo’s cock, he nearly came in your mouth at the sight of you forcing gojo’s cock out your tight hole because of how messy it was. “holy shit— nerds a fuckin’ squirter.” yeah, eren was practically whining at this point.
fratboy!gojo and fratboy!eren who ended up giving you their numbers, not just for the bet but because they were more than ready to link up for a second round with you.
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.
Stepping into Eren’s room always felt like a sensory overload: Metallica, KISS and whatever other posters of bands on his walls, some mixtape of his playing loud as hell and the smell of Marlboro smoke hanging thick in the dark room.
“Ugh–open the fucking window or something” you dramatically coughed, swatting the air with your hand and praying the smoke wouldn’t stick to your new pink jaded London set.
Eren yanked out his earphones and set his drum sticks aside, a devilish grin spreading across his face, his lip ring glinted when he smirked, the one on his eyebrow twitching just slightly.“Msorry pretty princess, didn’t know you were coming” he reached forward and grabbed your thighs, pulling you in closer.
You scuffed “Didn’t see you in class today…”
“Aww, missed me, pretty girl?” His eyes practically sparkled as he tugged at your thighs, forcing you to straddle him.
“Shut up, loser” you face palmed him, falling backward onto the bed. Eren ended up on his back, sprawled across the mattress, and you landed chest to chest on top of him. He grinned up at you, clearly enjoying the closeness, his thumbs rubbing lazy circles against your thighs like he wasn’t in any rush to move.
This was only the third time you and Eren had been alone together. You never even acknowledged him in public hell, you’d laughed about him with your friends before, in his face. The tattoos, the chipped black nail polish, the eyeliner, the rings, the spiked pants, he was everything you swore you’d never touch.
But he liked that. Liked how you pretended you didn’t see him in the halls, then ended up here, melting against him like this. Because when it was just you and him, all that “too good for him” attitude didn’t mean much.
“You so pretty, baby” Eren smiled, wrapping his cybersigil-style tattooed arms around you, thrusting his hips forward “fuck, just looking at you got me hard” he grinned, watching you hold back your whimpers. Eren gently wrapped his hands around your neck, pulling you down to kiss you. You moaned as his tongue slipped past your lips, twirling with yours as his hips kept thrusting upwards, his clothed hard on rubbing up against your clit.
“Mmfuck…” you couldn’t help but audibly moan when he started going faster, grabbing your ass, cold silver rings sending shivers up your spine “Haaa-Ren!” You cried out, rocking your hips back and forth.
“Feels good, baby?” He chuckles, watching the girl who used to make fun of him with her girlfriends aka his crush since forever , griding her pussy on his cock trying to reach her high “Hm, pretty girl gon get her new cute clothes dirty” the boy teased, a breathy moan escaping when you purposely rocked your hips harder
“Ughh–I told you to keep quiet” you covered his mouth with your freshly manicured hands. You could feel that annoying smirk agains the palm of your hand. You stared down at the boy as you rode him, moving your hips faster and faster, enjoying the needy look in Eren’s eyes as he tried to desperately slow you down but it was too late. You watched his eyes roll back, feeling the growing wet spot of his cum agains your clit “Ew..so embarrassing” you got off him and grabbed your little vintage Dior bag.
Eren sat up, still a little dazed, his grin lazy and crooked “Gonna see you at my concert tonight?” he asked, tilting his head, lip ring catching the light.
You paused at the door, adjusting your bag without looking at him.“Maybe,” you said, voice flat but eyes giving you away for half a second.
He watched you walk out, still smiling to himself, the room smelling like smoke and your perfume long after you were gone. Fuck, he was absolutely and ridiculously obsessed with you.
Trust fund baby eren who is EXTREMELY fiscally irresponsible when it comes to you
He watches you like a hawk every time you go shopping together. Even if you so much as spare something a second glance he’s over your shoulder like, “Do you like that? Do you want me to buy it for you? Take a picture just in case it comes in more colors online.”
And speaking of online shopping he’ll just randomly log into the apps you shop on and empty your carts for you. He won’t say anything either and just lets you be surprised when there’s ten packages at your door that you didn’t order yourself.
Throws you the nastiest look ever if you pull out your wallet around him. Like why would he let you pay for your own iced latte he doesn’t care if there was a student discount and you just got paid and wanted to treat yourself. That’s his responsibility to treat you wtf
It does backfire on him sometimes tho. He can’t let you pay for anything yourself and that goes for things that don’t even involve him. He finds out you and your friends are planning a spring break trip and he’s so whiny and pissy about not being invited and having to be away from you for a week but still coughs up the $700 for your plane ticket. And you tell him he literally doesn’t have to and that you’ve saved up and can pay for it yourself but it’s like his body is working against him and he’s reaching for his wallet as if he physically can’t help himself (he can’t.)
