inspired by this ask i had received a while ago...
You had your legs propped up on the bed, squirming slightly at the view of your boyfriend and his best friend crouching between your legs, both salivating at your still-panty covered body…
Reiner/Porco
Porco knelt before you, his wide eyes and dilated pupils focused intently between your legs. He was drooling slightly, the saliva pooling in the corner of his lips that he licked so incessantly because he just couldn't believe how undeniably hot you are and that you were dating Reiner of all people.
You flicked your gaze to your boyfriend, who stood with his arms crossed and a bite-ridden bottom lip, his gaze mirroring Porco's and fixed on your pussy, which was throbbing over the attention of two very attractive men. Reiner towered over Porco, his muscles flexing with every inch Porco moved closer to you, and you considered countless other possibilities of the three of you intimately together. Perhaps this would just be the beginning.
Porco glanced up to you, smiled weakly as his eyes kept flicking back to your dampening panties. "Can I touch you now?" he asked, more-so out of politeness than genuine concern. You nodded, and Reiner grunted, looked away as Porco's hands caressed your inner thighs and his warm hands reached for the delicate line of your panties.
You noticed Reiner's pupils dilate as Porco removed the fabric obstructing the view, and smiled wide at the hitched breath he took before lowering his lips to your clit. You tilted your head back, exposed the vast expanse of your throat to the room as the man licked away, the ache in your pelvis growing greater with each motion and the temperature of your body increasing under the intense observation of Reiner standing over you.
The breath was catching in your throat, your fist tangling into the sheets and you snuck a quick glance to Reiner, only to see him reaching for his erection, palming himself off at the sight of his best friend pleasing you. He was into it, fully into watching the two of you and hearing your blissful moans throughout the room, even if he wasn't the sole cause. But his intense observation was sending shivers down your spine in tandem with Porco's lips on your clit, and now you were really considering the horny opportunities blossoming between you three.
(Eren/Armin)
"You said you were okay with this, right?" Armin asked lightly, crouched between your open thighs, his crystal blue eyes sparkling with excitement. So kind of him to ask. “Eren didn't assume anything... right?"
Eren rolled his eyes at Armin's implication and held your hand tighter, protectively, more defensively. "Yes, asshole," he grumbled. Armin's eyes flicked to Eren briefly before refocusing on the liquid clinging to your labia, licking his thin lips. “Now hurry up before I change my mind.”
You chuckled, a sound that admittedly soothed both their nerves, and squeezed Eren’s hand tighter. "Yeah, Armin, I'm okay with this," you breathed out coyly, squirming slightly on your legs but smiled wider when you noticed that Armin's stare followed your clit with every movement.
So Armin's tongue and fingers reached out simultaneously, settled on your body like it was home and evoked a breathless gasp at the light yet powerful touch against your clit. Armin quickly adjusted his motion with each encouraging noise slipping from your lips, with each muscle contraction in your legs that inspired him to finger-fuck you faster, harder. He was a bright student, and he learned your body's quirks quickly enough to spark moans and gasps with every touch.
Eren's grip on your hand tightened with each pleasureful noise you released, so tight you couldn't break free from his grasp. But you honestly couldn't focus on that right now, with your mind centered solely on the feeling between your legs, one that should've felt so foreign but honestly felt so good you almost forgot it wasn't your boyfriend at all.
Your thighs were squeezing tight together, collapsing in on Armin's head at the rising pleasure. You could feel Armin's smile against your sensitive skin, could feel Eren's tight grip verging on breaking your hand, when the man suddenly ripped his hand from yours, wrapped it in Armin's hair and ripped him away from you too.
(Jean/Connie)
“Daaamn, babe. Lowkey, you need to kill Jean because he was wayyy understating how sexy you are,” Connie says as he tucks between your legs, biting his bottom lip and glancing briefly to Jean before immediately relocating his gaze to your thighs. Jean's looks could kill right now, the intensity bore a resolution similar to that of strong determination.
"Just start, moron. Put that big mouth to good use." Jean wasn't entirely thrilled with the prospect, but your excitement about the idea won him over. So, he was determined to allow you to experience this with actual pleasure. But he worried about Connie's ability to please you--to thoroughly, genuinely please you.
So when Connie stuck his head between your thighs and you weren't instantly moaning, Jean's hand was immediately caressing your inner thigh the way he knew you liked it, his other hand coming to your hip and pressing circles into the dip in your hips too. In between directing Connie on the best movements and spots to touch you, on where inside he should angle his fingers and when he should lick your clit, Jean whispered praises to you, various good girl's and that's it baby's that entered through your ears and fed straight to your groin.
You were gasping for air as the feeling of four hands caressed your sensitive skin, as Connie licked and fingered you and Jean caressed your body and tits. You were gasping, but Jean knew you could be screaming, so he advised Connie to tilt his hand a little more, thrust in a little faster, press a little harder, as his own hands made their way to your nipples and his mouth pressed to your neck.
(Levi/Erwin)
One of Levi’s hands firmly held onto yours as the Erwin's hand swiped the panties to the side, a light shiver from the cold exposure and their intense gaze running up your spine.
Erwin looked at you and smiled, warmly and inviting, and you couldn't help but wonder what else his mouth was capable of doing when Levi's hand gently rubbed against your upper thigh. You indulged in the view, the two of them standing there, Erwin towering over both you and Levi, both men staring wantonly at the warming and dampening muscle...
Your mind wandered to what else you could do together, what other positions you could make use of and how they would have to position you to accommodate their height difference. How fun that could be for you, to be stretched and flexed and rotated and used.
“Still okay?” Erwin asked gently, more of out respect than genuine concern, as he was already bending down and leaning closer to your apex. You hummed in response, and as soon as the hum vibrated to his ears, Erwin's lips were on the exposed muscle, licking and kissing and biting at your inner thigh. He indulged, heavily, into the role, giving you no time to process as his hands and mouth explored your lower half.
The feeling burned inside Levi as he listened to your moans fill the room, watched the way your squirmed and made a mess on the sheets. He couldn't just watch anymore, so he leaned over you and started kissing your neck and chest, his hands roaming all over your torso as Erwin played with your clit. The sensation was almost overwhelming your senses, too much to focus on while the noises you released were verging pornographic, nonstop streams of moans and groans flooding the room with reckless abandon.
You sighed loudly as Erwin's lips suddenly ripped away from your throbbing clit, "Levi, why don't you lean over her? Make her do something more productive with that mouth.
feat. eren jaeger; erwin smith; jean kirstein; porco galliard; reiner braun; levi ackerman x fem!reader
tag/disclaimer(s): NSFW/MDNI; fem!reader; biting; daddy; knife play; in public; penetration
eren - rambles
eren can’t keep his mouth shut. it’s running as fast as his mind is reeling with how fantastic he thinks you look nude, how badly he wants to touch your bare, sensitive skin. his low tone harmonized by your demanding, high-pitched moans as he tweaks your nipples with two fingers. his lips occupied with intermittent kisses along your neck and torso as he rambles about how hot you are, just how much he loves your body as he thrusts into you with a rough shove and a tight grasp on your hip.
erwin - sweet talks you through it
“oh, baby, you can do it. you’re doing so well—taking all of me so well,” are some of many phrases erwin throatily whispers in your ear as he mercilessly pounds into you, as he kitten-licks and nibbles on nearby skin. you catch him glancing down at where his cock slipped into your cunt, notice him gasp, “so well, so perfect—you’re so perfect,” with a soft, soothing voice that so starkly contrasts the almost painful hold on your hips, the almost overbearing fullness of a thick extremity pushing and stuffing your insides to capacity.
jean - daddy
jean loves when you call him daddy. he feels every nerve ending prickle and bump when the heat and euphoria becomes overwhelming and you scream out, “da-daddy, i-it’s too much!” the name encourages his hips to speed up, to readjust and fuck you harder with dilated pupils. “no, no, it’s not too much, sweetheart,” he replies with a sultry calm veneer, staring at you with narrowed brows and hooded eyes, leaning in like he’s following a gravitational pull, thrusting in with dramatic effect, “daddy only gives you exactly what you need.”
galliard - bites
porco hits it from behind and bites into the nape of your neck while he thrusts in and out, his sculpted front aligning closely along your spine. the heat of forced exhales overwhelming the nerves as his jaw creeps to the tip of your spine and his glorious teeth claim your nape so he can hold you in place and drill into you. you'll have to start putting a mirror in front of the bed so you can see it, fantasize about his crisp, sharp jawline along your back as his teeth sink into your neck.
reiner - knives
reiner likes to feel your nails along his skin—wanted to return the favor and hear the breathless gasp fall from your lips when the ghostly sensation trickled to your brain. but his nails weren’t sharp or titillating enough, and knives were so much more enticing, that he couldn’t resist running the sharp tip up your arm one night, paired it with a hardy erection eagerly shoved into your hip. daring to even hold two against the delicate skin near your pulse, replacing the source of the blood rush with his cock when he couldn’t bear listening to your weighted breaths and not being inside you already.
levi - in public
levi hid his life for so long he doesn’t want to anymore. he wants to show you off to the public, and that includes propping you up against a bathroom stall in a public restaurant or between two buildings in an alley. he’ll loosely cover your loud mouth with his palm as he holds you between the wall and himself, incessantly grinds his thick erection against your crotch as he orders you to be quieter with a wide suggestive smirk, exuberantly excited at the prospect of being caught intimately with you, up against you. being publicly placed inside you.
Eren, Jean, Reiner, Porco, Levi, Erwin x fem!reader
warnings?: rope bondage; cock-sucking; throat-fucking; s4 Reiner with the stubble; oral female-receiving; biting; licking stuff; mention of lap-dance, daddy
Eren (antagonizing; rope bondage kinda; lowkey likes weird places where you could get caught)
"Could you hurry it up?" you asked for the third time, glaring at the flustered brunet, whose cheeks were bright red with pent-up sexual frustration and irritation from your repeated antagonizing. His eyebrows were furrowed as his fingers tumbled over themselves with the rope, and beads of sweat developed along his hairline from the heat of your stare. "I literally could've tied myself faster than you."
A light chuckle escaped and relief settled into your stomach. "You literally couldn't have," Eren replied, squinting as he stared curiously at the knot. He abruptly tightened it, the sudden burn around your wrists evoking a gasp, and he clutched your wrists in his grip. He arrogantly smirked, his eyes finally settling on yours. "And shut the fuck up already. Your voice is giving me a headache."
You rolled your eyes and tried to push your arms against his grip, but surprisingly the knot was the first to restrain the movement, your wrists recoiling back against the wooden stairwell railing. Eren's smirk widened at the lively action, at the fact that the knot really was tight enough, and he glanced quickly up the stairs and through the door behind him before returning his attention to you, one hand squeezing your cheeks together. "Seriously, shut the fuck up."
"Oh, fucking make me, then," you snarled, your sour look twisting into a greedy smirk as he finally kissed you, an admittedly effective way at shutting you up. You gasped as he hands roughly grabbed your thighs and hoisted you up, your elbows and wrists bending awkwardly as the back of your head rested against the knot.
Jean (cock-sucking/throat-fucking)
The first time you dropped to your knees and took his dick in your mouth in one fluid motion, Jean knew he was fucked. His soul officially sold and chained to the image of your eyes peering up at him through sultry eyelashes, the trail of your nail polish acting like a landing strip for your tongue.
He liked how your irises lit up with excitement as you brought your lips farther down the shaft, how the color was laced with lashes that fluttered more frequently the more of him you swallowed. He loved the tears that formed when he'd shift his hips and you'd gag, chasing that look and feeling by increasingly rocking his cock deeper in your throat.
Your hands dropped to your thighs to hold them steady as Jean's hand grabbed your hair, as he used his strength to push your head closer to him, until your nose was touching his pelvis. He moaned loudly as you looked up at him, nodding for him to continue despite the tears forming in your eyes, despite knowing you might not speak properly tomorrow.
Reiner (s4 with the stubble; loves to give oral; likes when you ride his face)
Reiner always rested his head in your lap, snuggling into the warmth and cushion of your thighs and drinking in your proximity. The smell of you from his position permeated his nose and always, always made him cross his legs and maybe not so discretely hook his growing erection into his waistband.
And then you were running your hand through his soft hair, and he turned so that his nose was closer to your pelvis, and you could feel the satisfying scratch of his scruff on your bare thighs, and both of you couldn't help but wonder what that must feel like.
So he'd plant his hands on your thighs and move you until you were on hovering on top of him, him impatiently extending his neck out until his mouth was near your clit, pushing your thighs down until you were fully sat on his mouth. His happy moans turned into vibrations against the sensitive skin, which was only further stimulated by hundreds to thousands of tiny prickles.
Each time your body instinctively pulled away from the stimulation he was pulling you back, suffocating on your scent, being intoxicated on your taste. Fully willing to drown in you, he locked his arms over your legs and firmly held your ass between his hands, his rough mouth chasing after you every time.
Porco (possessive biting)
The first time he asked if it would be okay, blurted out like he was spitting out forbidden fruit, staring at your bare back with drool slipping from his mouth. You didn't turn around, just turned your head to the side to rest on your shoulder, watching in your peripheral as he stood up and brought his hands to your hips, his lips to your exposed neck.
You whined and nodded, extending your neck out farther, and you shuddered at the new, odd sensation, at the feeling of his teeth gliding down the stimulated skin. The first bite was light, hesitant, and Porco glanced up at you with wide, cautious eyes--to be met with closed eyes and a needy gasp.
Since then, Galliard bit you like he was marking you, like he was declaring his presence all over you. Sometimes it tickled, and he'd hold you down as you rolled and giggled at the feeling of his lips and teeth roaming your thighs. Sometimes the sharp pain would overshadow the pleasure, and he'd lick and kiss at the site to make up for it, until you were happy with it.
Levi (loves licking honey and hot tea off you)
It was no secret that Levi loved adding something sweet to his tea. At work and in public, honey was the special ingredient. He'd spoon a little of the viscous sugar into the two teacups in the morning and serve them to you at the table. He'd spill a couple droplets of cool honey onto the delicate skin of your thigh, eagerly offer to clean it up with his tongue.
He'd mouth at the spot until there was a bruise, until you were considering pouring more honey onto your legs. There was never any need; his lips connected to yours shortly after he'd licked the honey up, searching like a bee for the next sweetest taste around.
Before long, a new favorite ingredient crossed his mind, and he was dripping warm tea onto your bare, presenting body. His pupils were dilated to the max, like two black holes drawing you indefinitely in. You rocked back onto your tailbone as the hot liquid slowly followed the curves of your ribs.
He barely spooned any honey onto you before moaning and grabbing your shoulders, heavily pushing you back to the bed. His cool tongue trailing the hot liquid provided a strikingly cooling sensation to the firing skin. His mouth religiously followed the tea's pilgrimage to your pelvis, evoking frustrated groans from you each time he pulled away right there to suck at the stray honey droplets near your nipples.
Erwin (mention of lap-dance, daddy)
His hand was tight on your wrist before you could walk away. "Where do you think you're going?" his voice was low, like he was asking a question he already knew the answer to--the answer you were expected to give. You sighed. You'd been sat on his lap all day while he worked away at his desk chair, his arm possessively locked around your waist, his chin anchored on your shoulder.
"To stretch," you answered simply, humming in a mixture of sadness and relief when he released his holds. Erwin swiveled in the chair until it was fully exposed from the desk, his body relaxing deeper into the chair, the tight shirt settling tastefully against his chest and arms.
"Go on, then. But be a good girl and let daddy watch," he hummed, leaning his elbow into the armchair and resting his chin against his fist, the contracting muscles highlighting in the lamplight. The other hand fell to his lap, like it had bought a ticket for your show. "Well?" His eyes stared at you engagingly yet non-judgmentally, like he was already loving the act you were performing.
You stepped forward and pressed your thumb to his lips, slightly digging your nails underneath his chin, then tilted his head upward as you looked down at him. "Anything for you, daddy." You pressed your knee to his crotch, letting your calf rest along the seat between his open legs, and exhaled the tempting urge to smile at the deep moan from his throat, then shuffled onto his lap, faintly grinding down before pulling away.
description: reader playing the card game “excited and exhausted” with Attack on Titan people
inspiration: anonymous; requested: reader playing the card game excited and exhausted with erwin, armin, sasha, hange, levi
disclaimer/warning(s): nsfw; reader gender not specified so i tried to make it as gn! as possible but could be fem!-leaning?; hange is they/them; licking; lap dance
erwin
you inhaled deeply and bit at the inside of your bottom lip as you watched erwin’s large hands reach for the blue card. you licked your lips as he raised it to his eyeline, noticed the veins and ligaments and tendons in his hand and forearm from his tight hold.
the breathy exhale from his lips soothed your nerves, massaged out the breath you held. “lick your partner below to waist or drink once.”
the leap in your stomach acted without restraint, bubbled into a smile as erwin’s long arms were reaching for your thighs. he pulled you closer, moved one hand to cover your entire exposed calf and held it into the air, right near his face.
the hot breath travelled up the skin, spurred goosebumps and tiny hairs to stand at the sensation as it crawled towards your knee and down your thigh. erwin’s piercing irises stayed tethered to yours as he pressed the lightest kiss to the thin skin of your ankle.
with one hand rolling your cropped pants higher and the second grasped onto your thin ankle, he poked his tongue out, let the hot, wet textured organ slither and slide around the ankle bone, towards the dips in the muscles to your knee.
the red blush on your cheeks was encouraging as erwin’s hands found their way towards your upper thigh and hip, as his tongue reached the crook of your knee and he couldn’t help but sink his teeth into the soft flesh at the helpless gasp from your lips.
the reflex kicked your leg away from his grasp, but his hand instantly reached out, bringing your thigh back to his check and letting his mouth roam towards your crotch. you felt him smile through his open mouth at your melodic giggle.
“what else can i lick?,” he murmured against your upper thigh, the sentence tickling the sensitive thick skin. his tough arms wrapped around both thighs, held you close to his nose. he glanced up, winked cheekily, before letting his tongue explore your heated intimacy.
armin
armin’s cheeks were rouge when you pulled the card game from the bag, and the squirming ensued after reading the rules only exacerbated his mutual excitement and embarrassment at playing and exploring a side he kept hidden even to himself.
you went first, giggled as you noted how much more red armin’s cheeks were compared to the pink card. “take off one item of clothing or drink once.”
having the card near your face did you a disservice, because armin could visibly see the deep blush take settlement. he was about to speak, to tell you not to worry about it, to pick another card like the considerate, courteous gentleman he strived to be—but you had already dropped the card to the table and brought your hands to the hem of your shirt.
his breath audibly hitched, and armin blushed with hot blood as he covered his lap with his palm. he felt he should look away, but he couldn’t take his eyes off your bare chest, his pupils glued to the nipples matching his stare.
his mind was blank as you leaned forward slightly, as his eyes comprehended the closing distance between you. “your turn.” the hum of your voice was usually soothing, but right now it was grasping hold onto his skin, pulling him closer to you.
“i, um.” his pupils were scanning your torso, absorbing the detail to memory. the adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “yeah.” he blindly picked up a new card, couldn’t spare any attention from you to mind the card. “stick your hand…” each word was slow, laced with a growing arousal. “in your partner’s underwear…”
armin felt his erection battling both his jeans and his palm, moaned slightly into the sentence at the sudden pressure from the growth. “for two minutes…” he finally made eye contact with you. “or drink twice.”
you smiled impurely. “by all means,” you murmured, lifting the band off your waist, raising an eyebrow suggestively. armin relented to the temptation, eagerly reached for you, drool poking onto his lip.
sasha
once the laughter softened and you watched sasha take a swing of her canned beverage, you picked up the next card. you inched your leg closer to hers, felt the heat colluding between.
“drink if you’re the best kisser,” you spoke softly, like raising your voice would break the moment. you made eye contact, coyly hid your face behind the blue card.
sasha smirked knowingly. “well,” she leaned in and lowered her voice, “i feel like—” the light pink hue on her cheeks made your heart flutter. you glanced at her lips. “—we need to compare first.”
she kept her lips pursed, a tiny smirk at the corners. you watched her irises flick to your lips too. sasha continued, ignoring her brown hair as it fell against her cheek, not worth sparing any attention from you.
“is that okay?” she asked you directly, her palm hesitantly hovering over your jaw. her pink blush and shy smile contrasted her confident question, and your lungs couldn’t bear the heat of the air shared between you. “can i kiss you now?”
the words were lost on you, and after a second you nodded. a nod so slight if sasha’s focus weren’t intently on you maybe she wouldn’t have noticed.
her hand collapsed onto your jaw and she lurched forward, practically moving into your lap as her lips met yours. time felt still as sasha surrounded your lap with her thighs, teasingly bounced and sucked the air from your chest.
as quickly as she kissed you she pulled away, the ghost of her lips a faint tingle, the heat from her proximity still stimulating the tissue. her forehead rested against yours, could feel her hot breath swirling with yours.
“you’re definitely better,” she whispered, the disturbance pushing air against the still tickled skin. she looked at you, cross-eyed from just how close you were. “but we should keep going…” her lips were brushing yours, the sensitive tissue tingling. “just to be sure.”
hange
maybe you were a little jealous of their glasses, for sitting so cleanly and nicely on their face, for the way they were constantly touching and resetting the wire to sit properly and comfortably.
hange pushed their glasses up the bridge of their nose and presented the card: “act out any sex position you want to try or drink twice.”
the bottom frame of the glasses covered the awkward blush, but the shy glance to the side was on display, accentuated by the lens. the lick of their lips turned into a bite to relieve tension, and you found yourself heating up and your heart beating faster at the idea.
their curiosity always got the better of them. “actually there is one i’ve been thinking about…” hange reached for your wrists before pausing, reflecting, and settled one onto your lower thigh instead, just above your knee. “may i?”
their sparkling eyes peaked over the frame. you nodded, breathed out, “where do you want me?” and sat up eagerly, body itching to be molded. their smile was enchanting, their addiction to exploration coming to life.
“on your back on the couch,” they answered, voice heavy, contrasting the light in their eyes. you heard a soft, “please,” as you rested back, swooned as hange’s hands rearranged your legs around their hips as they crouched over you.
you brought your hand to their cheek, touched the stem of their glasses to keep them from falling. you thought of closing the gap between you.
you tilted your head slightly. “you look nice like this,” hange complimented in an awkward boldness, flicked their attention from your eyes to your lips, “i-i mean, you always look nice, but—”
levi
levi insisted you read your card first. he brushed your forearm with two fingers absentmindedly as he stared around the room—felt too hot to look right at you.
you hid your face with your palm after reviewing the prompt. “give your partner a lap dance or drink once.” you reciprocated the lack of eye contact, found it hard to lift your stare from the card and redirect your attention from the rumble in your belly.
the shuffling and bending in the couch cushion brought your attention to the shifting body before you. the short man was starting to stand, the lifted weight off the couch making the cushion you sat on feel lighter.
then his hands were on your thighs, dragging you onto your tailbone and low back so your crotch was presented to the air. his firm grip dug into the undersides of your knees, pushed back until your kneecaps were above your shoulder blades.
your lips were parted, eyes just about quadrupled in size. “wh-wha— levi, i—”
his eyes were calm, soothed the nervousness at his sudden action. “baby,” he cooed, exhaled in amusement. levi leaned into you, nosing around your ears and neck as he brought one knee to the couch. “i’m just doing what the card said.”
your heart stopped beating as the blood settled on your skin once you watched and felt levi’s crotch rhythmically dip into yours, blushed furiously once his bulge barely graced your presented crotch.
“levi!” you squealed at the feeling of his tongue against your nape, closed your eyes because the sight was unraveling your guts and burning your insides. “it was my card!”
his shirt was discarded to the floor. levi took your hand and guided it to his savannah hot, sculpted abdomen. he thrusted his hips back towards yours, wiggled slightly for the performance factor, smiled widely as your fingers dipped into the ridges.
your hand stopped exploring his abs, stayed close like a ghost once levi’s beloved stare was demanding yours. he grunted with rhythmic grinds against your hip, spoke between exerted breaths and a naughty smirk, “oh, i was just obeying orders.”
“fuck, marry, kill…” sasha giggled at the prompt before ymir even finished the sentence, which caused historia and you to laugh too. ymir ignored everyone and counted the men on three fingers as she spoke their names into the game. “erwin, levi, eren.”
“oooh!” historia squealed, her palms covering her open mouth, resting into her knees and sitting onto the backs of her calves. “i have to think about this one…”
“booriiing,” sasha sighed dramatically and loudly, dropping her head to her arms. she drew a heart in the loose dirt with her finger and kicked her legs in the air. “connie and jean aren’t even in this one…”
ymir scoffed, “sh’yeah,” rolling her eyes and scowling, kicking at the building’s wooden siding, “there’s a reason for that.”
“do you think captain would kill me if i killed him?” sasha asked sincerely, pausing her art to glance around the small crowd. “he scares me.” she glanced to her left and right before chuckling out, “and not in the good way.”
you shrugged, mentally disagreeing. definitely in the good way. “hey, they each have their perks.” you lifted one hand in the air. “marrying erwin means good eats…” you smiled at the array of considerate nods as everyone remembered his campfire stew. you raised the other hand. “levi guarantees clean living.” you thought back to him in his white apron, the handkerchief tied up in his hair, the broom handle firmly held in his grip.
ymir cackled crudely, leaning deeper into her slump against the wall. “what’s eren’s perk?”
you pursed your lips playfully and dropped your hands to your lap. “he’s… passionate,” you supplied weakly, high-pitched, shrugging awkwardly, the other perks of marrying the captain still occupying your mind. you opted for a joke instead, “his girlfriend’s hot.”
sasha laughed and pulled some more grass from the ground, letting it fall into the rest of the pile. ymir glanced at historia before chuckling and nodding in agreement.
“i feel bad killing eren,” historia added quietly, talking to herself, oblivious to the rest, “but mikasa might kill me if i don’t…”
you guffawed and clapped once, which took historia out of her own mind with an embarrassed blush. “tori, its a game.” you tapped her arm. “you can fuck her boyfriend in a game.”
you caught historia and ymir look to each other before both hurried to look away; historia with a nervous sheen and ymir with a disappointed scowl. “would you even want to?” she muttered into her shoulder.
“what about you, ymir?” you asked, gesturing to her with a nod of your head and a faux evil smirk.
“eh, i’d kill all of ‘em,” she answered plainly, a noticeable contrast to the mischievous light in her dark eyes, “and play with their girlfriends.”
you and sasha made amused eye contact and hid your laughter in your palms, sasha practically screaming.
you all but swallowed your tongue when historia directed her question towards you, “you’d fuck levi, right, y/n? would you care if i did, too?”
ymir sneered and rolled her eyes again, and you heard sasha whisper to her, “girl. why did you even ask?”
you blushed, suddenly aware of the heat of attention. you tugged at your shirt collar, finding it too tight. “w-why do you say that?”
“uh,” ymir replied first, like it was obvious, like it was confusing to them why you were even asking, “because you want to fuck him?”
you rotated your attention between your three girl friends while ymir and historia giggled. the unpleasant heat overtook your body. “n-no, that’s not what i…” you settled on historia, taking a mini deep breath, trying to ignore the uncomfortable rustling in your chest. “why would i care if you chose him?”
historia’s face lit in nervous surprise. “o-oh, b-because you…” she tilted her head to the side, raised her eyebrow. she questioned herself as her sentence tapered off. “don’t you…?”
“hey!” the four of you jumped at armin’s sudden appearance from behind the building. he had the same bright, wide smile on his face that he always did when he approached the four of you, like a younger brother desperately trying to fit in with his older sister and her friends.
he sat in the circle with his legs crossed between ymir and sasha. a spot he now claimed as his own. he smiled at each of you. “what are you girls talking about?”
you felt your body temperature rise as the thought of armin already knowing popped into your mind, as you wondered if he’d overheard everything and timed the perfect entrance, the perfect cover.
historia’s eyes were fixed to the pile of grass near sasha’s fist. sasha repeatedly traced the same shape in the dirt before her. ymir debated kicking armin’s cheek with the heel of her boot.
“are you one of the girls, armin?” you asked with a straight face. ymir, historia, and sasha all looked to him simultaneously. “do you swear your clitoris to the greater girlie good?”
you bit back your smirk as you watched the adam’s apple in his throat bob, as you noticed the small droplets of nervous sweat forming in his hairline. sasha and ymir hid their smug smiles behind their hands.
“you have to answer the question, armin,” sasha added, nodding convincingly. “you can’t be one of the girls if you don’t.”
“pretty simple stuff,” ymir added casually, checking her fingernails. “we all did.”
“swear it every day,” historia mused quietly, the four of you sharing a smile.
his flushed face made the bright pink blush oh so noticeable. armin played with his fingers, slumped lightly in his position. “does it, um. w-well. c-can i swear on an honorary cli—” he interrupted himself with a loud swallow. “o-one? can i swear on an honorary o-one?”
the four of you made bemused eye contact with each other before looking back to armin. you shrugged as historia giggled behind her palm. “yeah,” you answered casually, “we’ll allow it.”
“you have to say the word though, armin,” ymir threatened, sitting upright and moving closer to him, “say clitoris, armin. say. it.”
“ymir, stop,” historia denounced, moving to grab her shoulder, yanking her back, “don’t harass him.”
ymir rolled her eyes, but let historia drag her closer. “it’s literally a word, tori. he’s a big boy. he can say clitoris.” she turned her head to look at historia, whose face was only inches away. “you say it.”
you and sasha chuckled awkwardly, turning your attention away from them. “uh, ignore them,” you told armin, “we were just playing fuck, marry, kill.”
*******************
sasha chuckled quietly into the crook of her elbow as she blatantly watched ymir draw a cartoon of the commander and the captain in armin’s notebook.
poor armin was just trying to take notes on the formation and erwin’s tips and suggestions when ymir leaned over and started drawing mildly offensive caricatures of the whole team. you tuned out of the lecture as she was drawing one extremely tall and one extremely small cartoon.
you peered at the doodle from over armin’s shoulder and your fingernails squeezed into the coarse green fabric of the cape to distract you from laughing.
“make hange a pet titan. give levi a mop. give erwin a horse,” sasha not-so-quietly whispered to ymir, “oh! oh! no! make levi his horse.”
“sasha, shut the fuck up,” ymir quietly retorted, trying not to laugh more than anything else, “youre not funny.”
armin put his pencil down and hid his entire face behind both of his palms. sasha mockingly repeated ymir’s sentence as she leaned back into her chair. “yeah, well, you’re not nice,” she concluded and rolled her eyes, crossed her arms in a huff.
you tapped ymir’s arm from behind armin’s back. “give him a leash,” you added, gesturing to levi with a nod to the front of the room.
ymir snorted and shook her head disapprovingly, but her pencil started moving to oblige. “yeah, you’d fucking like that wouldn’t you.”
armin looked to you curiously, but you glanced levi up and down. “oh, yeah.” you nodded repeatedly, a smirk settling as your jaw locked. “i’d ride him all day.” armin’s wide eyes caught your attention, and the color flushed from your cheeks. “l-like a horse.” you felt the heat prickling under your skin.. you wondered if he knew. “like how you… how you ride a… horse.”
armin nodded slowly, concern and confusion bubbling in the blue. you started to laugh uncomfortably. “armin, stop. don’t look at me like that.” you pushed his face away with your palm.
“y/n! quit messing around!” levi shouted, the authoritative command stimulating each nerve and crawling under your skin. his voice echoed in the room.
you felt the entire room’s eyes settle on you. you smiled in disbelief that he singled you out, again. “aye, aye, captain,” you sang monotoned and coldly saluted, digging your toes into your shoes when you saw the slightest twitch of his eyebrow.
**************
“did you guys see levi’s new boots today?” historia asked in between a bite of her salad, the tiny tomato rolling off from the fork tine.
sasha glanced up at her then to you. “highly surprised that didn’t come from y/n.”
“shut up,” you chirped, stabbing the cucumber with your fork, “i would’ve asked if you saw his cock outline, so,” you added, punctuating your sentence by biting into your lettuce, winking.
ymir and sasha laughed boisterously. historia nearly choked on her kale. “oh my god, stop,” she mumbled between small coughs, covering her mouth politely, “i was just pointing out his new boots have heels.”
“ooh, tall boy,” ymir snarked, pointed at historia with her fork, “that’s sexy.”
“wait, did you see his outline?” sasha asked you, reaching her hand across the table to cover yours.
you shook your head and chuckled lightly, wiping your mouth with a napkin. “in those jeans? no.”
“i think they’re riding boots so they add a couple inches. he was almost as tall as mikasa when i saw them together earlier,” historia continued.
“do you think he’ll ride you with those boots?” ymir diverted the conversation, pointing to you.
sasha cackled and clapped her hands. “shit, he can if he wants to,” you answered with a laugh, a pink blush hugging your cheeks. you felt neighboring eyes turn to your group.
“not with the boots,” historia murmured into her hand, rubbing at her forehead, trying not to laugh along with her friends.
“yes with the boots!” sasha yelled along too loudly for comfort, slapping the table excitedly.
fellow scouts at the nearby tables started looking over. “she just pegs him,” ymir added with a loud cackle, knocking her arm against sasha’s chaotically.
sasha fell into her arms on the table, drowning her laughter out. “ymir!” historia yelped, her fork rattling against the bowl, her innocence plastered bright red on her cheeks.
“boots stay on,” you added cheekily before taking a deep breath and stabbing at more lettuce. sasha wiped at her eyes and inhaled deeply.
“i was kidding!” ymir excused herself loudly, arms raised in an unapologetic defense.
“i wasn’t,” you said. you made wide eye contact with sasha before ironically following with, “who said that?” and watching your friend break out into another fit of laughter.
“y/n!” the shout cut through the cafeteria chatter like an elephant on thin ice. you felt the syllables dig into your skin with sharp fingernails and claw its way to your skull. “cut that shit out!”
the chatter and laughter in the room fled into eerie silence as you turned your to see levi glaring at you with a burning scowl. “whatever you saayy,” you sang sourly, muttering “captain buzzkill,” under your breath and outbreaking into a giggle afterwards.
a confident heat rose in your chest as you noticed levi’s lip and eye twitch in sync. you felt his watchful eyes linger on you the rest of the night.
**************
“we’re going to have to separate the four of you,” commander erwin announced, glancing at each of you individually but spending most of his time on you: the one deemed most problematic. “the four of you are loud and disruptive.”
ymir rested her arm comfortingly around historia, who was starting to tear up from being reprimanded. “that’s dumb. eren is way more disruptive and he’s still around,” she grumbled, which earned her a slap on the wrist from historia.
“yeah! why are getting separated when we haven’t even done anything?” sasha questioned confidently, but sank in her seat as soon as levi and erwin’s dark glares casted over her.
levi’s settled on you. “ask captain goofy over here,” he answered disgruntled, his face twitching in and out of a tight scowl. he crossed his arms defensively across his chest.
you scoffed. “goofy?” you stared at the visibly disturbed captain in disbelief. “i do less than everyone else!”
“stop,” erwin demanded, seemingly purposefully lowering his voice. he straightened out his spine. “you are all disruptive to the learning environment.”
“oh, brother,” sasha groaned, resting her cheek into her fist, “some learning environment.”
“have you considered that the learning environment is stupid?” ymir objected, and historia slapped her arm again.
“quiet,” levi said as he stepped forward, the platform heel of his boot clicking against the tile. “you’re further proving the point.”
the group of girls smirked. ymir glanced him up and down. “nice boots,” she chided, sitting back in the chair and resting her shoes against the desk, “one inch? two inches?” she eyed him curiously as she held up three fingers. “three?”
you and sasha giggled. “did she put you up to this?” levi asked ymir directly, sharply, meanwhile he pointed at you.
you scoffed in disbelief, again. you turned to the commander, argumentatively held out a flat palm towards levi. “i breathe and get accused from captain cruel.”
“knock it off,” levi ordered, his eyes immediately fixing towards you, intimidatingly stepping towards you, still pointing at you, “you’re on thin ice.” his jaw locked.
you thought about licking it. “or what?” you felt hot under his intense gaze. you couldn’t help but cynically smile. “you’ll call me goofy again?”
you caught him off guard, saw the slight panic in his eyes when you didn’t stand down.
he took another step forward, a fire replacing the split second of nerves, and he debated pulling you down to him by your hair. he debated making you regret the scene. and he debated doing it in front of everyone.
“oh, hey, everyone,” the familiar voice greeted, a wave of sheer innocence washing over the stiff, tense room. “is there a meeting i didn’t know about?” armin quickly glanced around, tilting his head questioningly when he noticed levi. “oh, captain, did you swear your clitoris to the greater girlie good, too?”
you pursed your lips and crossed your legs to stay quiet and nonchalant as the girls broke out into hysterical laughter. you watched the deep red break out on levi’s face, practically watched the steam seep out of his ears.
erwin ignored the comment, awkwardly walked armin out, but levi was glaring at you like he couldn’t decide if he should murder you now or later.
“everyone out. now,” levi ordered, his tone verging bloodthirsty, a pitch none of you have heard before. the room erupted into a myriad of noise as chairs and shoes collided with the floor. “not you.” the index finger pointing towards you was overkill. his stare was burning countless holes into your stature. you were practically melting into the ground.
he glared daggers and spears and bullets until you were scraps hanging by threads. his stare hardened until you two were the only ones left in the room, when his facade collapsed and his face contorted into haughty anger and confusion.
“I don’t fucking get you,” he admitted after minutes of aching silence, leaning against the desktop.
“join the club,” you muttered, checking your fingernails, “i don’t get you either.”
his fist slapped against the table, the painful noise reverberating through the vacant room. your attention shot to him. “i didn’t fucking say you could speak.” his tone trailed off as he spoke. you noticed him shake out his hand.
you gasped in disbelief. “jeez, are you always this tense?” you tentatively took a step forward, eying him cautiously. you paused when he glanced over.
“you make me tense!” he shouted, exasperated, flailing his arms in the air. “fucking something about you just… irritates me.”
“poetic,” you responded instantly, defensively. you cocked your hip and crossed your arms.
“jesus, y/n, not everything’s a fucking joke!” he pinched the bridge of his nose and refused to make eye contact with you.
you shrank in your spot, shriveling and wilting like a thirsty, neglected plant. you liked when his attention was on you. “better that than everything being deathly serious,” you retorted defensively, meekly, “you’ll have a heart attack, living like that.”
he huffed, flicked his head to fix the strands of hair that fell out of place, the ones not worth the energy to touch. “no one will ever take you seriously. you’ll always be—”
“goofy?” you interrupted, wearing a tiny smile. you couldn’t help it. he was shining in the waning sunlight sneaking in through the exposed windows.
his expression didn’t waver, the same stern, crass look plastered on his face, but now with an amused glint in his eyes. levi closed the gap between you by a couple steps.
“yeah,” he agreed breathlessly, reaching his hand up and squishing your cheeks together, “always a fucking joke.”
you looked down at him, absentmindedly bending your knees to bring him closer to eye level. the skin was tingling under his touch. he took the distracted opportunity to ravel one fist in your hair and pulled down, throwing you to the floor.
a stinging signal spread to your eyes as thousands of nerve endings prickled along your scalp. “agh, fuck!” you cried, your hands reaching to cup the irritated skin, “uh, ow!”
his hand was wrapped in your hair again within seconds. he knelt down and pulled your head upwards, forcing you to make eye contact. the blood rushed through your veins and you felt the scared adrenaline amplifying everything. every unsettling itch racing through your bloodstream.
“what? can’t take a joke?” he hissed, every muscle in his body locked and tensed like being this close to you was physically tough for him.
“some joke,” you grumbled weakly, meeting his fiery gaze and feeling your stomach flip and drop and define new movements. you felt sparks at the friction between your legs as you squirmed.
you flinched as his face inched closer, as he inspected you. “let me guess.” he ignored you. his nose brushed against the thin sensitive skin of your neck, teased against the perky hairs near your ear. “punishment’s not really your thing?”
the uncharacteristic whimper escaped as soon as you felt his lips less than a hair’s width from your skin. you swore you felt a smirk before he ripped all contact away and tugged mercilessly on your hair, lifting you to your feet.
you had no time to process before his hands were roughly grabbing your sides and hips and he was forcibly walking you backward until your thighs collided with the hard desk and you fell over, your ass hardly and uncomfortably landing against the solid material, your feet lifting up from under you. you threw your arm back behind you to brace your fall, prevent you from uncontrollably sliding off the desk, but your hand collided with air and you only fell further, your stomach leaping into your throat at the free fall.
“ah!” you whined as you felt caught by levi’s firm grip in your hair, a life-saving tether that sparked inexplicable feelings elsewhere. you felt a couple strands of hair detach at the force. you didn’t really care.
you looked to him as his free arm swept around your waist and pulled you closer, your lower cheeks bracing his warm upper thighs and your face erupting into pinks and reds as his prominent erection settled just above the warmest bud of your body, where you wanted to touch the most.
he let go of your hair, gently caressed the fiery nerves of the roots and stared into your eyes. his eyes were softening the longer he stared at you like this, the longer he thought about how hot and itchy and uncomfortable your roots must be.
you couldn’t help yourself. not when you knew what was going to ensue when you did.
“got any more jokes, funny guy?” you asked him sarcastically, smirking arrogantly, inching your nose closer to his.
AoT who are rough when intimate with you (and Hard Claws)
Levi, Mikasa, Eren, Hange, Reiner, Jean
x fem!reader
description: AoT characters who are rough during intimacy… on purpose or accidental… that’s up to their own discretion (and whether or not you believe them)
(AoT who are soft when intimate with you (Soft Paws))
**VERY nsfw**
warning/disclaimer(s): face slapping; face fucking; bruises; orgasm denial; overstimulation; ignores you; ass/pussy spanking; begging
Levi Ackerman (face slapping; face fucking)
The slap across your cheek stings the most, the feeling amplified ten times by the rush of blood to the area and the direct eye contact heating up your body. You touch your hand to your rushing cheek, a light smile shared between you and Levi.
Levi stands bare in front of you tauntingly, proudly, his hand outstretched like it might collide with your face again, as you stoically sit on your knees. “What, baby?” he asks deeply, aggressively, “Still have something to say?”
You share a knowing smirk, whispering, “I think you already know,” and whimpering as he takes a demanding step forward and wraps a fist in your hair. You peer up at Levi with hooded eyes and a barely open mouth with your tongue peeking out.
He groans gutturally, his jaw clenching in sexual frustration as he grabs the base of his eager cock and angles the tip to your lips, letting the beads of bitter precum meet your tastebuds. You eagerly engulf him in your mouth, your slapped cheek stinging from the stretch, and you choke on a giggle as he thrusts his hips in and out, holding your hair and matching his thrusts.
Mikasa Ackerman (leaves bruises, breaks skin)
She’s an Ackerman; the roughness comes with the territory. You know that, you like that, but she is oblivious to her own strength, her fingernails digging into your thighs too deeply and her teeth marking your skin too harshly every time.
You gasp at the sharp pain of her fingernails imbedding into the skin of your thigh, and your eyes close tight and a whimper escapes as her fingers roughly push against your spongy insides. She picks up the speed of her fingers thrusting in and out of you as she salivates at the fluid seeping out of you.
“Ahh, Mikasa!” you shout when she tucks her nose between your legs, harshly bites your inner thigh before lapping gleefully at your stimulated muscles. Mikasa hums in response, digging one hand’s fingernails into your butt cheek and smacking the other.
She kisses and bites from your pussy to your neck, roughly holding your wrists above your head with one hand and tweaking your nipples with the other. You can feel the bruises forming as she runs her fingers up and down the curve of your spine, as she tells you, “Stay still,” massages your ass, and nips at your hips.
Eren Jaeger (orgasm denial)
“E-Er-Eren,” you moan, small tears forming in the corner of your eyes at the burning feeling brewing in your abdomen, “p-please, I… I…”
You tilt your neck and stare pleadingly at Eren, who rests at the foot of the bed with his chin resting in his hands. He smirks, a glinting flame in his eyes as they roam your naked, sweaty, begging body. You move to sit upright, and he abruptly sits up, clicks his tongue admonishingly and points back to the bed with his index finger.
You groan and fall back to the sheets as he starts to slowly crawl over you, gracing your thigh with two very light fingers from the knee to the hip. He tsks, a devilish smirk lighting up his face, “Oh, no, baby… I haven’t said you could move yet.”
Eren catches your hand snaking down to your crotch and his hand quickly snatched out, gripping your wrist tightly and pressing it into the mattress. His smirk drops to a glaring squint, but his eyes sparkle with that same amusement. “I said no touching.”
Hange Zoe (overstimulates/ignores you)
“Ha-Hang-Hange, st-stah!” you cry out, biting into the pillow instead of screaming, Hange’s long fingers and nails poking and prodding inside your vagina and stretching out the muscles to its extent.
Hange rubs their hand up and down your spine, playing with each bony nub between three fingers as they curiously poke and thrive in the spongy, foreign organ. “N’aww, sweetie, it’s okay,” they coo, smiling wide with excitement as they stare intently at the liquid leaking around their fingers, lubricating them further, “you’re doing so well. Almost there.”
You loosely anchor one hand into the mattress and awkwardly push the other out behind you, trying to swipe their fingers away, the feeling becoming too much.
They grabbed your forearm and held it to your back, pressing down firmly to hold you in place as you squirmed away from their thrusting fingers, picking up speed as they lost themselves in the bending of your spine.
Reiner Braun (ass/pussy spanking)
“Fuck, baby, have you learned your lesson yet?” Reiner huffs, his hand painfully colliding with your already red cheeks, his bare and leaky cock inching threateningly close to your tempting and presenting labia.
He wants an answer, some half-gasp hearty moan that drags his dick alongside your meek backwards grip. His sore hand collides with your pussy lips, a wet echo vibrating in all directions, then immediately smacks a wet, white outline onto your pink asscheek. “Did that hurt?” He’s verging more breathless than you. “Do you want me to give you something that does?”
You cry out as his hand connects with the sore nerves two more times, shouting, “Yes, yes, I’ve learnt—I’ll behave! I’ll behave!” in a lag, your brain aching for less time lost to processing the throbbing numbness spiraling out.
Reiner smiles against the thin skin on your back, blindly thrusting his hips and grazing his teeth against your spine as your aching muscles catch the tip.
Jean Kirsten (begging)
Jean wants you to beg for it, wants you to whine and bend by any means necessary to convince him to continue, to touch you again.
The overwhelming heat that builds in his gut as he fucks inside you, watching your eyes squeeze shut as he manhandled your bouncing breasts—he needs to pull out before his vision blurs and he cums prematurely.
He fixates on your crying parted lips and twists your nipple as he stops at the apex, rips away all physical contact and gasps over you. He smirks devilishly and hovers his body over yours, negotiating the threat of falling into you.
“Jean, please,” it’s a breathy plea, but you know it will eventually work, “don’t stop—why are you stopping? I need you.” You held his head between your hands and pushed his nose to your cleavage, his teeth just grazing the red hot nerves. “Please—gah, please, Jean, baby, plea—aHH—”
AoT men who are soft when intimate with you (Soft Paws)
Armin, Zeke, Erwin, Connie, Bertoldt
description: they can’t help it!! there’s just something about you that brings it out of them…
**nsfw**
Armin - duh
Baby boy will do whatever you ask him to. As soon as the opportunity presents itself (i.e., you start to take your clothes off), he’s desperate for you, mind reeling with millions of ways to touch and please you.
“Oh, ngh, love, you are—hnf, so, so beautiful,” he’ll murmur against your lips, his fingers lightly folding over your breast, “so lovely.” One hand will travel up your arm overhead to hold yours, aligning his words with each snug thrust, “You have to know that.”
Armin will tighten his grip and slam his hips against yours if you ask him to, but if it were solely up to him, he’ll use more lube, exercise more care, touch and kiss you more softly. It’s just—he didn’t like the idea of hurting you in any capacity, and it honestly turns him on to know you’re enjoying yourself, fully, completely, because of him.
If the sex didn’t feel like you were floating on the comfiest cloud, nudely basking in the warming rays of his brightest love, pleasurable winds traveling through your body, he was doing it wrong.
Zeke - if you ignore that he’s bruising your hips what he’s saying is soft and emotional
Zeke’s contradictory behavior is so blatantly obvious during these shared intimate moments, when his thoughtful, fragile emotionality equated his strong, dominant physicality; when his mind is so distracted with blinding care for you and his body is infected with a feverish desire only drilling into you can satisfy.
During these moments is when he’s at his most vulnerable, and this openness manifests in a running mouth, rambling on about how much you make him feel, how much he needs you in more ways than he could describe, how you consume his mind.
“Ze-aaAH!” you always interrupt his devoted monologue with a strained moan, when his thumb digs into your hip bone and his tip rubs against your spongy insides before pulling out and shoving back inside.
“Sorry, baby,” he’ll say with his lips pressed to your skin, looking at you with apologetic puppy eyes, a faint reflection of yourself with a sweaty halo visible in the blue, “I’ll slow down, promise, I-I just, fuck, you are so hot, you drive me wild, I, mmf, fuck—”
Erwin - more rough… but his hands are soft
Okay, it starts soft, and his hands are soft, but the longer he pounds into you and the longer he gropes at your mewling, begging body, the harder and tougher his movements became.
Erwin’s always careful not to leave visible bruises along your hips, but all that care comes at the cost of not paying attention to the speed of his thrusts. Your moans dampened by the sound of his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy rapidly led to his devolution, and he loses himself in your warm muscles enveloping his most sensitive extremity every time, pushing further in and demanding more every time.
If it didn’t feel so good you’d tell him to slow down, to give you a break. But the burning ache in your gut vastly overpowered the budding soreness in your abdomen and you bit your lip and focused on just how smooth his palms are, how he definitely moisturizes after washing his hands.
“Oh, my sweet, sweet, angel,” Erwin whispers in your ear from behind, bringing one hand to lightly caress your cheek despite shoving himself in and out of you. He rubs his other hand down your spine, achingly gently caressing each nub as he arches his cock into that spot. “You’re doing so well, angel.”
Connie - you’re his baby bunny!! he can’t hurt his bunny :(
It’s not that he thinks you’re weak and you need him to hold back… it’s just, well, you are his precious bunny, and how could he hurt his bunny?
“Ooo, bunny, you know I love when you move like that,” Connie moans deeply, gutturally, as you wiggle your hips and grind onto his lap. His hands lightly hover over your thighs, hesitantly, like he needs your approval.
He presses his face into your chest as your hands hold onto his shoulders; you feel his chin press against your sternum as he looks up to you longingly, his hands sliding to above your ass.
You sigh dramatically, puff out your bottom lip into a pout as you drop roughly onto his lap. “Con, you can touch me you know,” you drag his hands in yours along your body, from your thighs to your breasts, “I want you to.”
You smile at the high-pitched whine he releases, preen as his fingers quickly wrap around the fleshy skin. “Mmm, bunny,” he whispers against your lips with a reciprocated smile, nosing into you, “all you need to do is ask.” Connie kisses down your neck, still smiling. “Tell me if it hurts.”
Bertoldt - speaks for itself
Ooph, baby… did you have to put in some work.
Even sitting in his lap, crossing your calves across each other behind the chair, anchoring him down, with one hand undoing the upper shirt buttons and the second holding his hair. Bertoldt’s hands hover just above your thighs with the brightest red blush intimately gracing his cheeks, his erection peeking out to press against your thigh.
His face inches closer to yours every time and you nod to convince him to hold you, to help edge him over the nerves. One rock with your hips and his hands glue to your bum, softly massaging the fatty skin through your short fabric.
“Hold me tighter,” you request, wrapping his head in your arms. He nods and lightly pushes his crotch into yours, but barely obliges in tightening his grip.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whimpers into your neck, pressing kiss after kiss like admitting it would hurt your feelings.
You coo, taking his face carefully into your hands and lifting his lips to yours. “Berty-baby, I’d like it even if you did.”
description: Mikasa’s a Reverend’s daughter. Eren's a doctor’s son who doesn't believe in God.
"Mikasa," he repeated in a whisper, a new name sounding so familiar on his tongue. A tone so hushed lest the angels hear a demon's child say her name. The light in a perpetual darkness. The hope in an eternal damnation. The bliss in a life lost. The freedom in an unwilling confinement.
She stayed in front of the altar, staring up at the man. The resemblance was there, of course it was. He would always bear the same face of that young boy she desperately prayed to forgive and forget.
And in that moment, Eren realized that God does exist--because she stood before him, in all her effervescent glory. Because he just said her name.
tag/disclaimer: very late submission for eremika smut week 2024 (kind of a mix of day 3 and day 5); religious motifs; God or Goddess; overstimulation; oral sex/cunnilingus; first time; penetration; wondering how to get eren on his knees? be mikasa; worship and idolatry; ao3
To love another is to see the face of God.
Reverend Ackerman wasn’t strict about attendance. He understood the turmoils and stresses of life. He accepted that some days were harsher than others, and a tumultuous trek to the church was rougher on weary, exhausted bones. He praised those who could make it, hoped for those who skipped to come another day, prayed for those who lost hope, who disappeared.
Reverend Ackerman never enforced attendance. He reminded his clergy of the kindest tenants, spoke highly of those who were likely tired and frustrated within their lives, recited relevant scripture to persevere. To hope. To believe once again.
Reverend Ackerman never mandated attendance, yet he remembered all those who appeared. Memorized who arrived for what session and when. Kept space in his heart and mind for those who may return. Reserved seats in pews at the back for those who never did.
Reverend Ackerman remembered them dearly, prayed for them daily. For the one family that routinely stopped coming on Sundays. For the one family whose father disliked the preaching, took his son by his hand, and exited through the arch doors, golden with rays of God’s light. Disappeared and never returned. He hoped for their safety, their sanity, their resiliency, their forgiveness.
And so, Reverend Ackerman prayed every night for the Jaeger’s sanctity, for their eventual return.
His daughter matched these prayers. For the happiness of the boy she never saw smile. For the safety of the boy who always shifted in the pew. For the return of the boy she never saw again. For the salvation of the boy she never saw pray.
--------
20 years ago, the Reverend delivered a notable Sunday sermon. About forgiveness for the Eldians for century-old sins, about a history intentionally forgotten by its people, about how devils are born from rejecting God's love. How these sins carry with the living, find a peaceful retribution in the souls of those who remember. How it lives on achingly in the spirits of the dead.
It is important to remember. Not for punishment, but wisdom. It is important to remember. Not in terror, but respect. It is important to remember. Not for revenge, but forgiveness. It is important to remember. For salvation, not condemnation. It is important to remember. For our ancestry, for our lives. Lest we forget.
The attending crowd murmured approval, hummed their joint hymns of appreciation and solidarity. Praised their Reverend for a truth thoughtfully spoken, with words delicately weaved and threaded together.
Reverend Ackerman could never forget the one man who quietly stood at the back of the pews. Would never forget a face forged of a quiet indignity, with a fist tightly grasping at the hand of a boy the Reverend could only presume to be his son. A hardened version of the face he witnessed sit silently at the back every Sunday.
Clearly the man had heard enough. He carefully led his son to the entrance. The young boy--couldn't have been much older than his daughter--his head turned over his shoulder to look out at the Reverend for what would be the last time. The boy extended his free arm, reached out down the aisle, palm open. Expressionless, yet painfully expressive.
His daughter bore witness. Stood carefully next to the Reverend and observed the premature, gallant exit. Her head tilted. She flexed her hand.
This moment wrote itself into their brains. Hardwired into their memories. The sermon would be forgotten. Their actions would live on forever.
Lest we forget.
--------
Mikasa was older now. She'd grown into her existence as a confident soul. She knew more, could remember more.
What God decided which memories were retained? With the evolution of the brain, its multiple networks and high capacity--how were some events unforgettable? How were some events on permanent recall?
What God decided what was worth the precious storage? Why was his face always a part of that?
The young boy who would have grown into a man. The last day of his in their church. Decades passed, yet she remembered his face so vividly. The last rays of noon highlighting a confusion that she didn't quite understand at the time. An emotion that, as she reflected back, she still didn't quite comprehend.
A sense of boredom from the sermon. A sense of excitement from the abrupt actions of his father. A sense of betrayal from the exit. A sense of longing towards the altar. A sense of loyalty. Of dread. Relief.
Mikasa was older now. She'd watched many families leave the church after long days of prayer. Many of their lives blurred between the lines. Whose grandfather was on life support, whose lives experienced particular hardship, whose families needed extra prayer to set them free from their actions, or from the actions of those they'd never met. All of it bled into an indiscriminate mesh, an impossibly coiled weave of strings and wires she could never untangle.
Yet she'd never been able to forget him as he was dragged down the aisle, one foot after another. The feeling in her chest, constricted and chafing. An epitome of something more, something she couldn't quite name, something that never made sense. Never fit right.
Mikasa was older now. Full of love and forgiveness and belief. To believe in love, because she is full of it. To know of its existence, because she spreads it. To witness its effects in her community blossom into a fruitful meadow, intertwined with kindness and blessings that she felt honored to provide. To be selfish with it, by all the while searching for a face she couldn't be certain she'd recognize.
That is, until she stood before him. Preparing the altar for another day of service, in early morning, when footsteps approached the gallivant entrance, echoed through the hallow hall.
She turned around, set the basket of unlit candles on the table. She met the barely taller man by eye, smiled gently. Her eyes scanned his face and body, kindly assessed him.
“Good morning,” she greeted softly, the nerves in her brain firing as they processed the sight of the man. “The service doesn’t start for another hour or so, but please feel free to make yourself comfortable here.”
He stared at her silently for a moment—a moment that likely lasted a few seconds, but felt like slow minutes, passing like coarse sand in a fixed hourglass.
Her eyebrow knit closer to her eye as she considered his features. He looked oddly familiar, yet she was certain he had not attended any recent services. She had half a mind to ask, yet she knew better—service was not mandatory, people could come and go as they pleased. Her family served a large community. The doors were open to all those who passed by, travelers and inhabitants and settlers alike. Was it possible to remember everyone who had graced these pews?
His green eyes filtered to the candles, gestured out with a large palm towards the basket. “Can I help at all?”
Her eyebrows raised, in surprise by the gesture or the sound of his voice, she couldn’t be sure. The thought briefly crossed her mind: if she left him unanswered, if he’d ask again, she’d hear the sound once more. In that moment she could surmise definitively, she had never heard this voice before. Never would it be lost in the symphony of a crowd’s prayers and hums and amens.
He took a daring step forward. She took a sudden step back, bumped into the table and knocked a loose candle from the holder. It snapped as it hit the decorated floor, rolled towards him.
He knelt down on one knee and grabbed both ends easily, held them up to her with an outstretched palm.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he started, still on one knee, staring up at her like something holy, like she were an angel in her own right. He spoke slowly, like each word was formed with an intentional breath, like he was speaking to someone revered. He watched her carefully, listened even when she had nothing to say. “Just wanted to offer my service before the prose.”
Like she were hit with a flash of lightning, she knew who she was speaking to. Felt the memory run through her bones, fought the urge to welcome him back to salvation.
“My name is Eren.” She carefully took the broken candle from his palm. He carefully rose to his feet, kept his hand out to take hers. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
A boy she hardly knew, now a man she’d never met. There was an unfamiliar warmth and ache sent through her body at his words. Did it hurt to be unremarkable? Unmemorable? By someone she could never forget?
"Mikasa," she introduced, allowed him to take her hand in his palm.
"Mikasa," he repeated in a whisper, a new name sounding so familiar on his tongue. A tone so hushed lest the angels hear a demon say her name. The light in a perpetual darkness. The hope in an eternal damnation. The bliss in a life lost. The freedom in an unwilling confinement.
She stayed in front of the altar, staring up at the man. The resemblance was there, of course it was. He would always bear the same face of that young boy she desperately prayed to forgive and forget.
And in that moment, Eren realized that God does exist, because she stood before him, in all her effervescent glory. Because he just said her name.
“We’ve met before actually,” she spoke without forethought. Did it need to be known? Did it palliate the ache? “A long time ago.”
He seemed unphased. Like a lapse in memory was commonplace for him. Like he’d had this very conversation before. “Ah, I’m sorry, I don’t recall. Though I suppose that makes sense. My family did attend this church when I was young.”
“You remember coming here?” Mikasa picked up the basket again, replaced the candle that had broken.
“No,” he answered with a curt shake of his head. Quickly glanced around, but settled back on her. His gaze was intense, yet she didn’t feel observed or scrutinized. More—admired. Revered. “But I’ve been told. It feels awfully familiar.”
“It's common to forget as we grow old." It was a passing comment-- a caption merely meant to pass between phrase. To go unnoticed, unneeded. Unmemorable, like most.
“You remember.” It wasn’t intended as a question, nor was it really addressed to her. More of a confirmation for himself, that such a God would permit his residence in her brain for such a long time. He wondered what he had done to deserve such. "You remember me." He wished he remembered.
There was no need to continue. There was no need to speak at all, yet she couldn’t help but reaffirm. “I do.” Did she add that she’s been looking for him since the day he left? That she searches the crowd of people for the boy who disappeared? That she spent cumulative years out in the community, hunting for that familiar face? That she always felt drawn to him for reasons unknown?
“What did I do to deserve such a grace?” He maintained eye contact, considered reaching out his hand for her to hold. He’s been looking—searching for connection, a semblance of something real. Untouched. Holy.
She smiled smally. To have found what she’d been looking for. To know with certainty, it exists. “Will you be staying for the service?”
He nodded. "I will." He returned her smile. “For as long as it takes.”
--------
Eren's seen her before, in the town. Twice, to be exact.
The first was at the final worship for the passing of the old Duke. The clergy in the district had been assembled to speak to God on the peoples behalf, to assist in the town's processing of the Duke's eventual passing. To help the Duke cross over into heaven.
Eren didn't care. He was only present because his father was the Duke's doctor (which, in Grisha's own words, "was a sentence worse than the death the Duke will face, because who else would the town blame for his demise, if not the doctor meant to save him?").
Eren spent his time watching the crowd, eying the hungry, the cold. Those the Duke had forgotten who had still come to his bedside. The people surmised the Duke akin to God. Eren called them fools.
There was one member of the church, dressed yet not at the stageside. She was dishing out soup with others he didn't recognize. With hair black as a demon's eyes, eyes charcoal like remnants of a wood fire, she stood out amongst the rest. Her demeanor was warm and inviting. Her smile was soothing and healing. In white, like an angel sent to grace the Duke, she graced his people instead.
He watched her from the back of a large crowd, hidden from view in the creeping shadows. He fixated on her smile, on the flashes of teeth as she spoke to the hungry. Her hands appeared dainty and smooth, yet she worked them with the ineffective spoons and bowls. Something stirred within him, deep inside. Something untouched for ages.
The second time was at a patient's home. The patient had called for the local doctor and a priest. While Grisha and Eren fixed remedies and medicines at the patient's bedside, Reverend Ackerman and his daughter spoke to the family, blessed the room and assisted the patient's comfort.
Eren watched his father ignore the Reverend as they worked independently; one to help the man in bed reach heaven, one to keep him from its pearly gates. Eren recalled vividly the Reverend speaking to his father, interrupting the medicinal concoction. He remembered his father's poignant response, "Reverend, you ask his God for forgiveness and entry. Allow me to keep them from meeting." The Reverend forced a smile. His response was strained, "Continue with your honest work."
The girl outside the room heard, turned her head enough that Eren recognized hair as dark as the devil's, a face as pale as snow. She was the same woman, he was certain of it. Within his proximity, this time, he could she was as pristine up close, as she was from a distance. Truly an angel in image, a goddess in honor.
Never did he speak a word. Never did they interact. Yet she took up permanent residence in his mind.
--------
Eren didn’t worship.
His family never said grace at the dinner table. His father never encouraged him to pray. He watched his mother kneel at the foot of the bed every night, mumbling incoherent sentiments that he could never quite understand. Forgiveness for what? For being alive? For having a heart? For being human?
Eren didn’t worship.
His father spent every day healing sick people. Drafting and creating remedies to ease the mind and soul, concocting spirits to quench the ill. His father documented everything, watched the good die young and the evil live forever. Witnessed the good die with nothing, the devils survive with pride. His father healed who he could, and solemnly packed up his things and alerted the family when it was too late. His father was no god.
Eren didn’t worship.
His friend lived in poverty. Starved for mere bread and water. Had pennies to his name. His friend was kind. Yet adults paid his family no heed, gave him no help. His friend became weak. His friend stopped praying. You can’t eat prayers. The two of them watched the town council eat meals prepped for the gods. But they can.
Eren didn’t worship.
Eren watched countless people die. People he knew, people he didn’t. People his father tried to help, people he didn’t. Eren watched people starve, watched them succumb to illness, watched them fall to their own greed, or to their own demise. Eren didn’t understand who was chosen to live or die, who was allowed to eat and who wasn’t.
Eren didn’t worship.
He remembered learning about their ancestry. The sins they’ve committed, the atrocities from which they’d long since moved on. He remembered hearing folks blaming the history for their status, for their hunger. He remembered listening to the woes and prayers of the hungry, of the poor. Who is but more deserving of love than those who have nothing?
Eren didn’t worship.
He watched their hymns go answered. Watched their songs go ignored. He didn’t believe. His father didn’t believe. He hoped an afterlife existed for their souls peace, but he doubted its existence. He hoped for one who heard their cries, their stomachs be full in another world, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe.
He had a heart before he had a mind. He had seen suffering before he’d seen joy. He never saw God walking the streets. He never saw God healing the sick.
Eren didn’t worship.
Yet now he found himself on his knees, hands clasped for a woman he hardly knows. A woman who remembered, a woman who heard, a woman who was kind.
Yet he found who would save him. Yet he prayed to her to save him. He’d found a goddess who walked among them. He’d found a saving grace.
--------
Eren attended church every Sunday afterwards. Sat in the back and paid exclusive attention to the woman who stood by the side of the altar. He watched her carefully, imprinted each movement into his memory. He noted her confidence. He noted her humility. He noted the softness in her tone as she spoke, the honor in her throat as she breathed.
His prayers were simple, for the goddess she was. May she be impressed. May she be inspired. May she be taken by a simple man with little to offer. May she be happy. May she be healthy. May she be proud.
He approached her last every time, once the pews had cleared and the only people left were them and the Reverend. He spoke about the service, about her role. He asked about her life, her interests, her dreams.
Eren was taken with the way her eyes lit like constellations, the way her smile extended with each conversation, the way she didn't shy away from his presence, the way she inquired about him as he did her.
--------
Today, they were alone at the altar. The pews had emptied out. The Reverend had a house call, an ill person. The Goddess stayed behind, with him.
The natural light was beginning to wane. Their shadows flickered with the candles still lit from the service. She smiled as he approached her, the pleasant expected end to her day.
Today she asked. A question that had been burning into her mind since after the first service he'd stayed to chat. A question built by bricks of intuition and feelings burning deep in her chest. A question scarred by the flames of emotions she felt boiling inside when she was with him.
They had been in conversation. She changed the subject. "Do you believe in fate, Eren?"
His head tilted, the confusion read clearly in his expression. "What?" She didn't blame him, of course. She'd just changed the subject with no relation, no explanation.
Despite all their conversations, not many were about Eren's beliefs and convictions. She knew awfully little about his senses and his thoughts. "Do you believe in soulmates? In fate?" But she'd been burning to know. "That we were destined to meet?"
Candle after candle, wax melted into an answer. "No, we are not soulmates," he answered simply. A slow response that holstered into her heart--Did it stop beating? Perhaps, momentarily. The burning turned twisted and sour, allowing early scars to form.
Yet he took a step forward, used his hands to block her in at her sides. Her back to the altar. He arched his neck, so he was looking directly into her eyes. His face only centimeters apart.
"This--" He gestured between their chests with a thumb and a pointer, left the pointer to rest on her sternum. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest with each stunted breath. "--is not divine intervention." He leaned closer. "And this is most certainly not chance."
She leaned against the altar, and his other hand rose to her thigh. A gentle gesture, a cool hand barely touching hot skin. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.
"I prayed for this." Each word was intentional, direct. And his attention split between her eyes and lips. The breath stilled in her chest, the air stagnant in her lungs as she slowed to process. "I willed this."
His hand rose to the apex of her thigh. The bright red blush easily took over her pale cheeks, her lips agape as she desperately inhaled. "Eren," she gasped, her voice almost unrecognizable.
His face remained serious, his tone steady. Both hands fell to her thighs, and he slowly bent down to his knees. His hands wrapped around the circumference of her extremities, grasping at the flesh and raising the fabric.
Eren looked up at her from his knees, kept his hold on her legs. "I knit the red threads myself until they spelled out your name."
She whined, uncharacteristic and primal and deep. An unsettling itch resided deep in her pelvis, pulsating with each heavy heart beat under his intense, undivided attention.
Her legs tingled under his touch. Goosebumps formed. Nerves fired and fizzled, sent shivers up her spine and back down to culminate at the apex of her pelvis, right above the most sensitive, seldom explored bud of her body.
Hot blood pulsed through her arteries, warmed her skin and muscles until her bones were burning, until her skin was flushed and pink all over. She felt hotter with each passing second, with each subsequent blink and breath under his adoration.
Mikasa couldn’t bear the intensity anymore, put her hand over his eyes and pushed his head slightly lower. Eren closed his eyes, felt blessed by an angel, prompted by a queen, as her unspoken approval washed over him, felt a smile overtake his face.
One hand fluttered down her leg, grasped at her ankle underneath her dark skirt fabric. He looked up at her anyway, stared at the palm of her hand and saw her flushed embarrassment through cracks of her fingers.
“May I?” the pads of his fingers played at the thin skin of her ankle. She covered her mouth with her free hand, loosely hid the gasp and closed her eyes at the touch. The shiver ran up her spine like a sprint, and her whole body reacted.
“E-Eren,” she whined quietly. She shuddered again.
“Mikasa,” he returned, with a gentle stroke on her skin, rose his hand to brace her calf. “Please, my love, allow me to worship you.”
She squealed and swooned, found herself leaning heavily into the altar table. She nodded frantically, forgetting her hand covered his sight and he desperately needed her verbal command. But he watched through the cracks between her fingers, felt each shiver as his hand slid farther up her calf under the skirt fabric.
Goosebumps followed his trail. His second hand followed the first, glided down her thigh to her calf and slipped under her skirt.
He raised the fabric, slipped his head underneath. His hands caressed the inside of her thighs, his thumbs pressing lightly in circles into the flesh. Mikasa whined softly, gasped untouched as she glanced down and saw the bump of his head under fabric.
Her vision tunneled, focused solely on the feeling of his hands on her. The hot blood pulsed between her legs, right where she could feel Eren’s warm breath against spots she couldn’t name.
She whined at the sound of Eren’s muffled mumbling, felt each word and between breath press against the sponge of her thighs. “Oh, my Goddess who art before me…”
Her heart raced. Her vessels dilated. She felt her chest heaving for desperate breaths as his lips touched to her upper thigh, pressed lingering kisses between every chant.
Her hips bucked sharply at the foreign feeling of lips at her crotch. His tongue lapped out, tentatively at first, as he listened to the myriad of sounds falling from an angel’s lips. He developed into an intoxicating rhythm, where one of her hands clawed at his arm under the fabric and the other covered her mouth.
Mikasa’s face was bright red, flushed with a needy embarrassment unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Her body felt hot. Warm blood pulsed to her fingers and toes, travelled back to her spine with millions of firing nerves that numbed her brain in waves. Beads of sweat formed along her hairline. She couldn’t form words, only incoherent noises and moans that were indecipherable by the gods who overlooked.
Each formidable lick and taunting kiss and teasing love bite to the sensitive skin summed to an acute overwhelming sensation that caused hers legs to tremble and her vision to blur. Her hands collapsed behind her, kept her supported on the altar while Eren buried deeper between her shaking legs.
He was searching for something. Untouched. Holy.
“Oh, m-my—E-Eren!” Her legs cinched together, collapsed in on his head and inadvertently pulled him closer.
Eren mumbled something in response, she knew he did. She couldn’t hear him over the roaring in her ears—no, she could feel each movement of his mouth against the licked-raw nerves, feel it culminate in hardened hearing, blurred vision, shivers down her spine.
The feeling was building, unbearable. She felt weak, occupied, trying to inch away but his hands kept her in position. Her legs cinched tighter, the pressure was building against his head. He smiled wide, biting softly into her thigh to give her a false sense of relief before continuing to lick her senseless.
The acute sensation overwhelming. She was overstimulated. Eren replaced his lips with two fingers, rubbed and touched at her wet clit as he stood upright and pressed his nose on her neck, just under her ear.
He spoke to her calmly, not that she could really process what he was saying, as he coaxed her to climax. Pressed soft kisses and breaths that were cooler than her skin to her neck until she was shaking and shivering and tugging him closer and calling his name.
Her hand swiped down, swatted his hand away as she panted heavily. Her chest was heaving to catch her breath. Eren fixated on her, his eyes scanning over her red face. His smirk was genuine. She was an angel. Sweaty with a halo, breathing life into the world. Yet he gave her heaven. He gave her euphoria.
He left his hand on her inner thigh, still wet from sweat and pleasure. Her skirt fanned over his hand’s position while the other clasped around her neck. Eren leaned forward, until his bulging crotch was pushed into her wet thighs and she hissed pleasantly from the pressure.
Eren kept his nose pressed to her neck, smiling. The relief washed over her as the normalcy set back in, mixed with tinges of sorrow and regret. Sorrow because it was over—she wanted more, so much more. The pleasurable heat and tingling up her spine was more addictive than God. Regret because she wanted more, so, so much more. She shouldn’t want more.
Greed was the sin in her father’s sermons. Greed and pride were all consuming, filled you with unending desire and unfulfilling need. She’s felt it all now, all the greedy pleasure in the world at the cause of a lover. How will it ever be enough?
“I can make you feel God again,” Eren murmured against her skin, littered with light kisses, reminiscent of those that lingered on her thighs and clit. His hand rose to her clit again, something newly familiar that he already loved, tickled the skin gently. She shivered, held a momentary breath. “Or at least call out his name.”
Mikasa shivered and whimpered. The desire was devolving into need—a haughty desperate need. The devil was calling her name. She was answering.
“Oh, Eren,” she moaned breathlessly, wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him ever so closer.
Eren kissed up her jaw, stopped above her lips. “Oh, my love, I’m no God,” he cooed with another lingering kiss to her cheek. “But with one word, I will help you feel heaven.”
She bent her head back, bared her neck with a light moan as she considered his words carefully. He kissed along her neck, let one hand fall along her spine and pressed into her lower back. He nipped lightly at the skin, relished in her light moans.
Her hands clasped on his cheeks, forced him to stare into her eyes, clouded with an intensity and a fog he’s never seen. Her eyes scanned his face, looked deeper than his eyes—his soul. “You say ‘my love,’ do you mean it?”
She was searching for something. Remarkable. Real.
He nodded repeatedly despite her grip. “Yes,” he answered simply, “You saved me.” His voice was quiet, like if he spoke too loud, someone would hear, and it wouldn’t be real. “I love you, Mikasa. I love you with every bit of consciousness I was born with.”
Her next question was rapid, still searching. “Do you believe in God?” She forgot her place on the altar, the blasphemy between her legs as her pulse heightened, as she felt the hot waves of blood pool between her thighs.
“I believe in angels.” He paused, maintaining eye contact. “I believe in a Goddess.” He started to lean forward, but pulled back, like he was denying the magnetic and supernatural forces between their mouths. He whispered the rest, like it were reserved for only her ears, “I believe in you.”
She glanced into his eyes briefly, found what she was searching for, then pulled him in. Let his lips collide against hers. She was hesitant, unsure and unsuspecting, and she let him hold her neck tighter as he kissed her deeper.
One hand slid from her back to her thigh, slowly felt every vertebra to the bump of her bum to the flesh of her thigh. He squeezed her thigh and she hummed into his mouth. She felt his fingers near her crotch, the excitement and adrenaline reared in her gut at the notion of repeating events prior.
He removed his hand from her neck but kept his mouth to hers, repeatedly kissing her lips as he multitasked: one hand tickling up her thigh, the other unbuttoning his pants.
Eren’s fingers found her vagina, slipped into the opening and released a sudden gasp at the unexpected move. He felt around, gently slid two fingers in and out and poked around at her warm insides as she tightened her hold on his cheeks and kept their lips interlocked.
He shuffled his trousers lower until his cock was freed from the confines, moaned into her mouth at the friction. He kept his fingers inside of her, exploring her soft insides as his tongue slipped into her mouth, kissing and fingering her simultaneously, relentlessly.
Mikasa moaned into his mouth as the pleasure started building, her legs spread and already reliving the muscle tremble in her thighs as his fingers picked up pace. The blood was pounding through her veins, pulsating through her arteries, roaring in her ears.
She whined as he removed his fingers and brought them to her thighs, tugged her even closer until his hard cock was touching her wet cunt. He used one hand to slick it in her fluid, moaning into her neck as the motion triggered waves of pleasure through his body.
Mikasa was already panting from the fingering, already pink and flushed with eyes struggling to focus on the man she’d been dreaming of. “Pl-Please, Eren,” she begged, desperate to relive the pleasure, desperate for him.
“I will never deny my Goddess,” he responded, followed with a long kiss as he pressed his cock between her labia. He pushed deeper, breathed in each gasp she released as his hard cock filled the gap inside.
His hands slipped to her hips as the shaft disappeared inside. He held her tightly, breathing shallowly as the contraction of her walls around him overwhelmed his nerves, stimulated every nerve ending and set fire to his spine.
Eren needed a minute, to process the firing and catch his breath. He leaned his forehead against her clavicle, breathed heavily and moaned when she shifted her hips. Initially she shifted for comfort, to adjust to the pressing weight inside, but the sensation was too pleasurable to ignore as it sent up her spine and her brainstem reacted by reflexively shifting her hips again, wiggling against him.
The altar table shifted unstable, the candle holders shuddered as she rubbed her hips against his. Eren stood in awe at her bold maneuvers, closed his eyes and let her continue to unknowingly pleasure herself on him.
“Eren… Move,” she whined, clawing into his arms, giving into the greed and desire for more, developing beyond a simple want—morphing into a need for more. A lifeline.
But who was Eren to deny a Goddess’ demands?
He shifted back slightly, then pushed inwards. The drag of his cock evoking a light moan from them both, a hymn more harmonious than that during service.
He rocked his hips, dug his fingers into her hipbones as he sped up, thrusted harder and deeper with each movement. Mikasa’s mouth was agape, sharp breaths pushed out from her lungs with each shove of his cock inside.
Eren’s eyes squeezed shut, but the image of her was imprinted beyond his eyes, embedded into his memory. The visual, combined with the instantaneous rush of fiery pleasure from each drag was sending him to his edge, and he was fighting, fighting, fighting to stay together when he was coming undone.
His mind was blank, nothing more than the undeniable, innate need to keep shoving in and out of the woman he loved, to please her beyond himself. But her pleasure wasn’t enough, he needed more from her, needed her to beg and pant for relief. His finger crept back to her naval, slid down to her clit—she gasped loudly, inhaled sharply.
He played with her clit as he thrusted in and out, watched as her eyes clouded over and slipped closed, watched her mouth part open and heard loud ahh’s and moans slip out. Wanting. Needy.
Her blood was boiling more with each thrust, pulsating harder against the walls of her vessels like they must burst with each flick of his finger. Bundles of nerves fired simultaneously, spread to the rest of her body rapidly like a wildfire in dry brush, like a flash of lightning in a wet storm.
Eren’s movements were sloppier, becoming messier and more deluded with each incoming motion. His arms were stinging from where her nails dug in, but he couldn’t feel it yet—too fixed on where their bodies joined in blissful union, on where his base was starting to achingly throb and risked release into her warm and inviting body.
Their mouths rejoiced and rejoined in a last kiss as their bodies trembled in unison, spines shivered with bolts of pleasure never felt so intensely until now.
The acute stimulation was overwhelming. The onset was rapid and severe. A tsunami wave of overstimulation goosebumped and sweated into her skin. She wanted to call out for him to halt and yet keep going, but her voice was shot with endless rasps and moans as the unholy feeling erupted within her soul.
This—was familiar. This rapid buildup, this immense emotion turmoiling within, this indecipherable and indescribable and indiscernible pleasure beyond the word of God. She’d felt it before—only moments ago. It was familiar. It was all she wanted.
Her toes curled, his fingers clenched into his skin. She kissed him hard, pulled him closer until there was no space between their bodies. Her mind wasn’t blank this time—no, it was reeling. With millions of thoughts felt for merely microseconds before the next one began, about their fleeting time together, about his ability to make her feel so, about the happiness felt from climax and the budding desire to feel it again after despite it not even being over. About the unrelenting, unforgettable, unregretable event that she would inevitably think back on, look forward to the next one. A joyous union between two bare souls, two craving bodies.
She couldn’t hear his moans over the deathly fuzz in her ears. She couldn’t see with how her eyes cinched shut. She wrapped her shaking thighs around his hips and collapsed him closer. She climaxed, shaky and wet and moaning, pulling him tighter and pushing him away. She called to him, like he were far away and couldn’t hear her, like she were summoning him infinitely closer.
And Eren caved—he came, embedded deep inside her. Filling her with his seed and collapsing into her body.
He kissed her intently, with every fiber of his being and every emotion swelling in his heart. “I love you,” he whispered between intentional kisses, her face collected in his hands, “I will worship you forever.” She whined, high-pitched and heady and nigh.
“I believe you,” she returned softly, voice hoarse and used and fulfilled. Satiated, in a way she never knew. Satisfied, because she’d found what she’d been searching for. To know he exists—with utmost certainty. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“You will have me forever.” He smiled gently, kissed her softly. Addicted to the taste of her skin, salty with a halo of sweat. They stayed in place, unmoving like time was frozen, like if they hadn’t moved, they’d stay together forever, preserved in pleasurable, everlasting peace. “Lest we forget.”
