Trainer!Mikasa who always brings you extra snacks and fun flavored waters to your sessions.
Trainer!Mikasa who always lets you go at your own pace but knows you can do just one more set for her, and after that she'll give you an extra long break, she promises.
Trainer!Mikasa that adores your newest pink workout set, and the way it hugs your figure - she’d never understand why you’d even bother working out this much.
Trainer!Mikasa who helps ‘correct’ your form when she knows there's nothing wrong with it just to touch you.
Trainer!Mikasa who stays late with you to run drills, when your session should've ended hours ago, she’s too enamored watching the sweat move across your chest.
Trainer!Mikasa who gets you pinned under her, your wrist down on the matt, chest heaving as sweat pools at the apex of your cleavage.
Trainer!Mikasa who drags her hands to your hips, kneeling on your thighs to keep you still while she pulls your tight elastic shorts off.
Trainer!Mikasa who practically melts at how wet you are, “poor dumb girl, bet you love knowing every ones starring at your ass in these, don't you?” she starts to trace her fingers up and down your cunt, thumb flicking the bud of anticipating nerves.
Trainer!Mikasa that loses all patience and shoves her digits as deep in you as she can, her own hips begging for contact at the sensation of you squeezing her, “poor baby, your fingers haven't been enough for you, have they? Needed to feel something a bit stronger, huh baby? C’mon baby, say it for me.”
Trainer!Mikasa that hits the spongey parts of your walls just perfectly with her fingers, drooling at the frothy whiteness forming where her fingers and your pussy meet, “Doing so good baby, give me just one more…”
Your first impression isn't ideal - it's the dead of night in a CVS, exhausted and bored with the current color of your hair only to be met with the loudest group of boys in the universe. Eren, Connie, and Jean had had a long night of drinking and playing at some dive bar, barking laughing, and yelling throughout the store.
" fifty bucks if you dye your hair, 'ren," Connie calls out some stupid bet, leaving you to side-eye them as they get closer and closer to you - their volume becoming overbearing.
"Hey, what color should he -hic- dye his hair, d'you think your color would look -hic- good on 'em." Eren throws his arm back halting Jean and Connie as they approach you.
He smiles apologetically, "Sorry about them, they're a bit rowdy when drunk, but your hair is pretty."
You two make chit-chat in the isle, Connie and Jean had wandered off in search of food, while you offered advice on what color would suit him, and what kind of haircare to use to keep the color for longer.
He’ll pay attention to you as you speak- practically trying to drink you in; like a crow, he’ll get distracted by the glimmer and glittering jewelry that adorns your person. Mesmerized to a mind-fogging extent.
He invited you to one of his shows, a bit pouty when you tell him your aversion to louder cramped places, "Well maybe I could play something for just you?" A sly smirk plastered on his drunken face.
You get his number and finally talk yourself into inviting him over, opting for a movie night, and laying out a plethora of blankets and prized stuffed animals. The knock on your door startles you a little opening it, "Hey pretty girl", his dumb smile lazy across his lips, guitar in his ring-clad hand.
He adores your enthusiasm as you lay out the horror movie options, ultimately letting you pick whatever movie you want, "if we don't get through them all I guess I'll just have to come over again."
It felt cliche but he couldn't pay attention for the life of him, you were too, too much of everything, and eventually, when you relaxed into his arms he wanted to eat you; heart and soul.
The next couple of times he comes over, it becomes harder to ignore that desire.
He'll hold your thighs firmly in between his hands, the pads of his fingers rough from years of playing guitar. Licking a long stripe against your wet dripping hole, making you whine. "gotta stay still baby, wanna hear all your pretty noises, can't do that when you're runnin' away from me."
Nipping at the flesh of your inner thighs, one hand interlaced lazily with yours, the other working your body like you were the only thing he knew, drawing his fingers in and out in agonizingly long strokes.
saliva was spilling over your lips, mouth agape and gasping for him, " 'ren, 'ren too full, can't." In contrast to his hands, his hips work fast, too eager to feel you, his hands lifting your soft hips to him, practically bruising your cervix at this pace.
He's shirtless hovering over you, necklaces and hair sticking to his warm skin, "fuck baby, wish you could see yourself, god, gonna-"
Cum spilling out of you onto the flesh of your thighs and his abdomen, Eren collapses into a heap on top of you, his head laying in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping at your shoulder, "you sound prettier than any love song."
You and Connie met at a thrift shop in downtown Shiganshina, you had both been picking through some women’s jeans , and in a questionably motivated act of kindness he had conceded the one pair of Carharts, “you go ahead and take ‘em baby” with a big smirk plastered across his face.
He had asked for your insta, and with a bit of convincing you had let him take you on a date.
After the first date it didn’t take much convincing to stay around, constant thrift store trips and house parties at Jeans and Erens, “no fucking way you’re with her, Connie, did he put you up to something - blink twice if your in danger.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, ‘ren. You like me right baby, you promise?”
Connie loves to smoke, even if you don't, he’ll role up a couple and lay in your lap, letting you trace your fingers across his tattoos, the feeling of your hands over the raised skin sending chills down his spine.
“Thank you baby, love when you do that.”
His head positioned so perfectly in between your thighs, the air thick with smoke, making you question if you're all that sober; tilting his head to meet your eyes directly, eyes red and a little wider than usual.
He licks his lips a little, glossy and parted; he pushes himself up by his elbows to your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip, “love you so damn much.”
After a couple months he’ll go with you to get matching tattoos; local shop he had become a sort of regular at, a heart with his initial on your hip and the same with your initial on his hip.
He’ll take you home, and make sure you take good care of it, “here baby, let’s get some disinfectant on that.” He pushes you up on the counter, tugging the waist of your jeans down, to apply the cleansing gel to your skin.
Its cool on your skin, easing the incessant itching of an open wound, “feel better? I know its uncomfortable but you did so good.”
He finishes cleaning the tattoo, leaving his hand on your hip, he leans into you, his breathe running across your neck and ear “I like knowing whoever else fucks you has to see me on you, now” its said as a joke - partially, he laughs as he says it atleast, nipping at your ear.
