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For the third time, you rap your knuckles against the white-painted wooden door. Frustration bleeds into the action.
You shouldn’t be here, and your body knows it. You’re carrying the kind of unsettling feeling that sits in your bones when you’ve ignored your better judgement and all of the cosmic signs telling you this is a bad idea.
You hug your arms around yourself as a protective mechanism of sorts, trying to conceal the fact that your stomach is twisting up so tight that you might just see your breakfast again.
The seconds tick by like hours as you wait.
No answer.
Should you knock again? Maybe it’s time to accept that him not answering may be the universe’s way of telling you that you should leave this whole thing alone.
“Alright, I’m coming!” His voice shouts, sounding distant.
If it weren’t for the resolve that you spent days strengthening, you would have taken off running.
As the locks on the door click open, you steel your nerves once more.
You know why you’re here.
It swings open with a dramatic woosh.
Your heart sinks into the pit of your stomach when you see him, leaving an ice-cold ache in your chest. It’s just him in a worn-out, faded band-T and some grey shorts, but he still looks even more beautiful than you remember. Wet, wavy tendrils of mahogany hang like limp curtains over his eyes. With one smooth swoop, he pulls back his hair, tying it into a haphazard ponytail.
Eren blinks his criminally long eyelashes in disbelief. A towel sits on his shoulders to catch the water dripping from his hair. His olive skin is still dewy from the shower, giving him an otherworldly glow. The warm, spicy scent of him is so inviting. The bergamot and jasmine aroma is reminiscent of happier times.
You’re the last person he expected to show up at his door. The last time you spoke to him, it was via a cold, loveless text, expressing that it was over, telling him to never contact you ever again, and that you would be coming over on Friday to collect your things. He thought about all the big romantic gestures he could make and all the elaborate apologies he could say, but no matter what, they could never make up for what he did. To even try would be an insult to you.
So when that fateful Friday rolled around, he had nothing to offer you. Wordlessly, you entered your once-shared apartment, accompanied by two of your friends who made certain to keep him away from you. You packed your belongings in silence while he watched you from the doorway, your delicate hands folding your clothes. Your eyes were red and puffy from days of crying, but they stayed focused on the simple task, just to avoid looking at him.
He might have imagined it, but your face looked gaunt and grey. He wondered if you had been eating properly.
One thing he saw for sure was the lone tear that rolled down your cheek. He wanted to hug you immediately, but then the dam broke. More and more tears started pouring from your eyes, but as the silent sobs racked your body, you just kept folding.
Your friends glared at him as if to say, ‘You did this to her.’
How could he try to redeem himself after that?
Worst of all, you might’ve forgiven him if he actually tried.
But he didn’t deserve that.
So he did the cowardly thing; he left and didn’t come back until he was sure you were gone.
He starts to say, "Hi..."
You cut him off by shoving him back into the apartment and closing the door behind you, paranoid about being spotted by his neighbours, lest they get the wrong idea.
“Get help, Eren Jaeger. Seriously! What the fuck were you thinking?"
You cross the room in large strides, putting as much space between the two of you as possible. Optimistically, you hope it’s enough to save you.
But realistically, all you’re doing is crawling deeper into his den.
“Well, it’s good to see you too.” He says it sarcastically. “Would you like to come inside? Can I offer you a drink? Maybe a snack?”
“Haha.” You reply bitterly, in disbelief of his gall. “I’m serious. Eren, you crossed a line.”
The air is quiet, heavy like your heart the day you walked away from him. A pregnant pause that goes on for just a smidge too long.
“Ah. You mean the message?” He asks, suddenly growing smug.
“Yes. The stupid message.” You massage the bridge of your nose between your thumb and pointer finger in an attempt to stifle an irritated groan. “Do you realise how inappropriate that was? We haven’t spoken in months, and then, out of the blue, you hit me up with that? What the fuck possessed you to do that?”
Your first instinct was to say, ‘You haven’t spoken to me in months’. But that would imply that you wanted him to text you, which you didn’t, seeing as your last text to him explicitly asked him not to.
You definitely didn’t.
“What ‘possessed’ me?” He snorts a laugh, putting your words in quotation marks. “Whisky, weed, and a hard dick. Nothing that crazy.”
“Oh, so you got high and decided to harass me?”
“Harass you? Oh, that’s so fucking rich. It was one text.”
“One text was a 15-minute recording of you jerking off. That I did not ask for. That’s harassment.”
You’re trying to stay mellow, because if you shout, you’ll cry, and if you cry, he wins.
“Did you like it?” He smirks, flat-out ignoring your question.
“I have a boyfriend. You know that, right?” You snap.
“I’m aware. How is James, by the way?”
“Jean.” You correct him with a bitter edge to your voice because you know that he knows and that he’s being an asshole on purpose.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” He snickers, shameless as he is sexy, unfortunately.
“You know what? I didn’t come here for your smart-ass attitude.” It’s so obvious he’s goading you into this exact reaction.
A pensive look takes over his face; you can practically see the wheels turning in his head.
That only spells one thing for you.
Danger.
“Now that you mention it, why are you here?”
“I’m here to tell you to leave me alone.”
“Hmm.” He hums, carefully mulling over your words as he takes a step closer to you. “And you couldn’t do that over text because? You said you never wanted to see me again, so why are you standing here in our apartment?”
You wanted to make him sorry. You wanted him to tell you that he was sorry for cheating on you; he was sorry for the six months of radio silence; and he was sorry for trying to lure you back just as you were beginning to move on.
Then you wanted to reject him, watch his ego crumble, look him in the eye, and tell him that you never want to see him again (something you weren’t brave enough to do the last time).
But you can’t say any of that.
Because hearing him say, ‘Our apartment.’ winds you like a punch to the gut.
“I- well, um, I..."
“Better yet, why didn’t you just ignore it?” He prods.
Despite how many hours you spent agonising over this meeting, carefully scripting the conversation in your head, you finally realise that you absolutely did not think this through.
“Eren I-“
“I made it pretty clear that I wanted to fuck you stupid the next time I saw you. And you still show up at my doorstep, like a pretty little present. What do you expect me to do, hm? Nothing?”
"No, but I-“
“You know me better than that? Or have you forgotten already?”
All you can do is stand there, wide-eyed and frozen in place, while Eren keeps getting closer and closer to you.
“Did you touch yourself like I asked?”
Was he always so arrogant?
“You’re such a prick! I’m here because I want an apology, and then I want you to leave me the hell alone.” You scoff.
You take a few more steps back until you’re smack bang against the back of the couch.
“How many times?”
He comes even closer until he has you cornered without even enough room to let you breathe.
“Eren.” You sigh. You place a hand on his chest in a feeble attempt to push him away. Instead, you feel his heartbeat thrumming hard against your palm. Much to your surprise, it’s racing just as fast as yours.
“Christ, I love when you say my name like that.” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your body flush against his.
It’s wrong. You know. But him holding you like this feels undeniably right. Like slotting a piece into a puzzle, he just fits you. This used to be your safe space, here in his strong arms, surrounded by the scent of cardamom and citrus—warm, spicy, and strong, just like you remembered him.
“Almost as much as I love when you scream it.”
“Eren, you need to stop.” You can’t even make it sound like you mean it.
“I can’t.” He leans forward, gently brushing his nose against yours.
“You want me to apologise for the recording? I’m so sorry I made your cunt wet. I’m sorry I made you fuck yourself to my voice all those times when I should have come over to fuck you myself.” Gently, he bumps his nose against yours. “Does that make you feel better?”
Before you can stop yourself, out of pure habit, you find yourself chasing his lips, momentarily forgetting all of the shit that has brought you to this very moment.
He dodges your kiss, just barely.
In that split second, you come to your senses and immediately try to put some space between you. Without thinking, you lift yourself off the ground onto your toes and then land with your backside on the edge of the couch.
Eren takes advantage of the fact that you inadvertently spread your legs and steps in between them. His large, strong hands resting on your lower back are the only thing keeping you from toppling over entirely.
“I-I’m being s-serious.” You stutter, not even fooling yourself.
“Hm. I know.” He murmurs, nuzzling into your neck. “So am I.” His lips ghost over the soft skin. Goosebumps spring up and spread across your flesh.
You throw back your head, giving him more access to your neck, which he gladly takes advantage of.
He starts off gentle, leaving featherlight pecks along the column of your neck. The kisses grow gradually more intense. You lock your legs around his waist and weave your fingers through his deep, chocolate locs.
Your whole body is on fire; flames are following the path of his fingers as they trace sensual patterns all over your body.
“Eren, please-“ You whimper.
You don’t finish the sentence.
It should be ‘Eren, please stop.’ But what you really want to say is, ‘Eren, please. More.’
And he knows that.
He starts to graze your skin with his teeth, nipping on the thin skin now and then before soothing it with his tongue. When he dwells in one spot for too long, you become scared that he’ll leave marks. Reluctantly, you tug on his hair, pulling him away from your neck.
You drift away in stormy pools of emerald. It’s a familiar look. One of lust and desire. You see your reflection in the black of his dilated pupils. You’re wearing the same look.
The corners of his mouth quirk up into a smirk because he knows you’ve reached the point of no return.
Much to the chagrin of your conscience, it was you who made the first move.
You can’t help it.
They’re like magnets, from your lips to his. Something inevitable.
You take a second to hold him close, your lips barely brushing against each other, breathing in all of him and committing this moment to memory.
Then, you press your lips against his. Another mistake to add to the long list of those you’ve made thus far.
Still, it’s the first thing in an eternity to feel so easy.
Imagine having to remove your own wisdom teeth with a butter knife and no anaesthesia.
Imagine having to wake up and do that every day.
That’s what it felt like to leave him.
It was the most difficult thing you’ve ever done, and everything after that was just an extension of that.
Every day was just you clawing and fighting your way away from him.
But this? It’s just effortless.
His lips move against yours like silk on satin, wordless whispers of ‘I miss you.’ ‘I want you.’ ‘I need you.’
His tongue slips into your mouth; you welcome it. You’ve missed the taste.
It should fill you with regret to be here with him like this. Tucked so close to his chest, when you fought so fiercely to get away from him, all you feel is relief.
Because you can finally touch him again, taste him again, and have him want you again. You thought you had given that up forever.
Eren feels it too. The sweet, sweet relief. He thought he had driven you away for good.
What he did was stupid, but just letting you leave the way you did was infinitely more stupid.
You’d never believe him now, but he loves you. He loves you with everything in him, which is why he let you go. He was ashamed and guilt-ridden; he thought that was what would make you happy.
But the torment of being without you was not something he was ready to face. If he knew it would be as gut-wrenching as this, he would never even have thought about cheating on you.
He’s so relieved to have you back. You can feel it.
How he kisses you slowly, exploring all the corners of your mouth and savouring it; how his hands roam over your body, relearning each and every one of your curves that have been out of reach for so long.
He’s reclaiming what was once his home.
He lost you before because he was selfish, and now that same selfish desire has pulled you back into his bedsheets.
You feel him against your thigh, growing hard under his sweatpants.
You could stop this right now. Surely, ending this now would count for something.
Nothing tastes quite like Eren. Rich, sweet, and decadent. Petal pink cushiony lips that you want to kiss all the time.
You kiss him deeper, massaging his tongue with yours.
You’ll admit that you’re greedy, but so is he.
That’s why he couldn’t stand the thought of you being with anyone else. It’s not fair, but Eren never plays fair. He just gets what he wants.
He’s the first to break the kiss. Both of you are left panting. In the flurry of passion and yearning, you’d forgotten that you needed to breathe.
“Say it.” He whispers. “Say you want me.”
Here you are, clinging on to him for dear life, your lips slick with spit and swollen from his kiss. Anyone with eyes and half an ounce of sense could tell that you want him, and he’s still going to make you say it out loud.
“I…” You hesitate.
Are you really no better than Eren? Are you really going to do exactly what he did to you—to someone else?
“C’mon.” He grinds himself against you. “I want you too. You just gotta say it. For me?” Even through your clothes, you can feel him throbbing. Or maybe that’s you; you can’t be sure.
You two deserve each other.
“I want you.”
With that, Eren scoops you up into his arms, pulling you into another kiss, leaving you no chance to even think up an argument. He lifts you up into the air and carries you into the bedroom with a firm grip on your ass.
He’s all rough kisses and rough touches, but oh, so gentle when laying you down on the mattress. The familiar fragrance of the fabric softener you had to stop using overwhelms you. Something tells you it’ll stick in your nostrils for a while.
He tugs off your clothes, peeling them off layer by layer and discarding them without care before removing his own.
You lie there, mouth hanging agape, while watching him.
Eren shrugs off the faded t-shirt, exposing his broad, tanned chest, sculpted torso, and featherings of hair that go down, down, past his navel.
His sweatpants are easy enough for him to slip off without any hassle.
Only then does he finally notice your hungry gaze and then break into a dazzling smile.
Fingers drift over the waistband of his underwear, hooking two fingers over it. A millimetre at a time, he pulls it down, exposing his hip bone, then just a hint of pubic hair, all the while never breaking eye contact with you.
Just as he starts to reveal the base of his thick, throbbing cock, he lets it snap back into place.
You can’t stop yourself from pouting.
More mocking than sympathetic, Eren says, “Aw, you missed it that bad?” He leans down, so his face is nice and close to yours. “Don’t worry. I know you. I’ll give you all of it.”
He gives you a slow, tender kiss, and the feelings you tried so hard to bury crawl out of the ground, coming back from the dead.
“If this is our last time together, I want it to be one we both remember for the rest of our lives.”
You couldn’t imagine anything worse.
Using one hand to prop himself up, he uses the other to cup your face with his large, calloused hand.
He uses this angle to take in the full picture of you.
Seeing your tits in person for the first time after so long is affecting him in an embarrassing way.
Pointed nipples pucker up at him like they’re begging for his mouth with every rise and fall of your chest. Your eyes, like diamonds, are the brightest thing in this dimly lit room and the perfect complement to your kiss-bitten lips.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He breathes out in genuine awe. “I never should have let you go.”
Your eyebrows scrunch up in confusion before annoyance begins to trickle through your veins.
‘Let you go?’ What the fuck does that mean?
“I don’t think that’s how it went, Eren.” You scoff.
How arrogant could one person possibly be? Let me go. You hate the way that sounds. So passive. Absolving himself of any real blame.
“I didn’t fight for you, and I should have. I’m sorry.”
“Of course, that’s what you’re fucking sorry for.” You try your best, wriggling around underneath him to fight him off, so you can put your clothes back on and storm out of here and never look back. Because he’s not even sorry for breaking your heart. Apparently, he’s only sorry he didn’t try to manipulate you into staying.
Eren holds both of your wrists in one hand and keeps them pinned above your head. “Come on.” The pads of his fingers glide over your stomach, dipping down into your panties. “You can’t leave yet.” He separates your sticky folds from your underwear that’s been soaked through thanks to Eren’s cruel magic. “I made you a promise, remember?”
You let out a high-pitched moan as his long, middle finger enters you. "I said I’d eat your pussy out until you cry the next time I got you in my bed.”
Hesitantly, you raise your hips off the bed, and he takes the hint, removing his finger to help you shimmy out of your underwear.
“Atta girl.”
Although it’s beating a mile a minute, you can feel your heart skip a beat at the simple praise.
Why did you think it was a good idea for you to come here?
Fucking idiot.
With your cunt on display for him, he backs up to the edge of the bed and then drops to his knees. He grabs you by the ankles and yanks you down to drape your legs over his shoulders.
“Where I wanna be all the time, baby." He strokes his thumb over your clit. “All the fucking time.” He’s talking straight to your pussy.
“Eren.” You whine, too lust-drunk to take anymore of his teasing.
Without warning, he gives you two of his fingers. Your cunt walls spasm around them. It’s so tight, he can barely move.
“So tight, holy shit.” Agonisingly slow, he fucks you with his fingers, stretching you out bit by bit. “His dick must be trash. Still think you can take me?”
You don’t know if he’s being merciful or cruel. Always the dichotomy with Eren.
“Oh, get over yourself, Eren; I don’t remember you being that impressive.” You’re lying through your fucking teeth.
“Don’t worry.” He ignores your jab at him. “I’m gonna make it fit.”
You want to conjure up a sharp, biting response, but every mean word you’ve ever learned is seemingly inaccessible when the tips of his fingers keep brushing against your g-spot.
Every now and then he makes scissoring motions, stretching you open in the delightfully torturous way only he can.
Your eyes flutter shut, letting go of all the guilt you feel.
For an entire week, you’ve stolen every moment you could just to think of him. As soon as you were alone, you’d have your earphones in and your fingers digging between your legs, and immediately after some of the most mind-blowing pleasure you’d ever given yourself, every inch of your skin would itch with remorse.
Your hips buck up when you feel it. The hot, wet muscle of his tongue flicks against your clit. Using his free hand, he pins you right back down to the bed.
You let out the most humiliating squeal when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it into his mouth.
All the while, his fingers haven’t missed a beat.
Tentatively, you weave your fingers through his still damp, mahogany locks.
He swirls his tongue over your clit, over and over again, sending shocks through your pussy with each motion. He moans into you, devouring you like a starved man. He's dreamed about this exact moment over and over again. Actually, he’d be embarrassed for you to know just how many times he’d let innocent thoughts of missing you morph into picturing you, just like this: on your back, with your legs draped over his shoulders, baring your cunt for him and only him. It drove him crazy. He swears on his life; it’s not just about the sex, but holy fuck, if you didn’t have the most perfect pussy in the world,
Your thighs close in against his head, and he knows you’re close. Barely audible whispers, turn into soft ah ah ahs until you’re calling out his name when you tip over the edge. The explosion in the pit of your belly seeps into every single vein until your legs go limp around him.
At no point during your orgasm and even after the mind-numbing high passes, does Eren stop stimulating you.
His tongue laps over your swollen, aching clit. Meanwhile, your hole has become sloppy enough to fit three fingers with ease.
“E-Eren wait-“ You twist your fingers in his hair, tugging at the roots, hoping that the pain will reign him in.
“Why?” Even with his hair all mussed, his cheeks flushed, and your wetness around his lips, he still looks the picture of innocence. He slips out all of his fingers except the middle one. The slow movements, in and out, in and out, keeping all your nerves on edge.
“I-I’m sensitive. Fuck!” You scream when that same middle finger rubs your clit in harsh, fast circles. “Let me-ah- let me suck you off.” You sit up on your elbows and try to look as seductive as possible.
From where Eren stands, you don’t need to try at all. The way your breasts rise and fall with every breath you take is hypnotic. Your bottom lip is quivering, a silent plea for reprieve, but how could he stop when you keep making those sweet fucking sounds? Christ, he would love a picture of this.
“Not a chance, babe. It’s very tempting, buuuut… I made you a promise, remember? I meant it. Until you cry.”
You gasp, indeed, remembering every filthy promise.
Instead of fingers, he uses his tongue inside you, and it’s a whole new sensation.
The way his finger moves over your clit is quick and precise, and it has you barreling towards another orgasm in no time.
Tears start to prickle at your lash line because he just won’t let up.
Fat, moist droplets roll down your cheeks. “Eren, please.” You beg.
Mischief lights up his handsome features. “Please, what?”
“Just fuck me, please.”
"Oh, you want me to fuck you, huh?”
“Yes!”
God. Tomorrow Jean'll ask you why your voice is hoarse, and you’ll say, 'Oh, I think I’m getting a cold.”
Fuck.
Very quickly, he replaces his finger with his lips, and he starts leaving languid, lazy kisses all over your cunt.
“I thought I was a prick, hm?”
You ball your hands up into fists, a childish display of frustration.
“I thought you wanted me to stop?” He purrs right into your pussy.
“No I-“
“Tell me you didn’t mean it, baby. Tell me you didn’t mean it, and I’ll give you what you want.” He murmurs against you.
“I didn't—I didn’t mean it; I’m sorry!”
It’s an out-of-body experience, and it has to be related to all of the endorphins that are flooding your brain. It’s like you can see yourself spread out on his bed and you’re screaming at yourself asking ‘WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SORRY?!’
“Please- Please Eren. Please fuck me.” You snivel.
“With pleasure.”
He gets up off his knees to tower over you once again.
You will yourself to maintain eye contact while he teases you and himself by palming the prominent bulge in his black boxers.
The heated look in his seaglass eyes is something you never want to forget. You need to remember what it feels like to be wanted by him. You need evidence that you weren’t crazy or stupid. It was real. What you two had was real, and it should have lasted forever.
He parts his lips as if to speak, but you already know what he wants to say.
“Don’t.” You already know because you have to hold yourself back from saying the same thing. “It’s just sex, remember?”
He swallows the treacherous words with a curt nod. The crushing sincerity fades from his eyes, creeping back to hide behind pure, unbridled lust.
“Right. Sorry. I got caught up. You just drive me crazy. I can’t think straight around you.”
He says it like it’s your fault, which is frustrating because he’s the problem. He’s the one who messes with your head. You can’t think straight around him.
“It’s fine. Let’s just do it. Please.”
“Well, shit.” Eren gives you a wolfish grin. “You’re gonna make me all shy.”
He tugs on his waistband, finally inching his boxers down his thighs.
The last thing you want to do is give him the satisfaction of catching you gawking, but he’s simply mesmerising.
“You never answered my question.”
You stifle a groan.
“Did you like my voice note? Did you like hearing me beg?”
“Eren…”
“Y’know,” finally he strips down completely naked. No man or toy has ever compared to Eren’s cock. Thick and long enough to sting in the most delectable way, curved just right to hit the spots that make you squeal, and crowned with the prettiest, red, flushed tip that catches on the edge of your cunt as it bobs up and down. “I’d love to hear you beg more." Carefully, he lines himself up with your entrance. “I don’t have the fucking patience for that.”
In one fluid movement, he slips inside you with ease.
You bite down on your lower lip, trying to muffle your moans.
Once he’s fully inside you, he holds still for a minute to fully appreciate the way your cunt is already twitching around him.
The room is silent except for both of your irregular breathing.
You really did it. The one thing you shouldn’t have done. It was probably the worst thing you could have done for your own sanity.
“I love you.” He blurts out, staring longingly into your eyes.
Of course, he had to go and make the worst thing even worse.
He pushes back his damp hair out of his face so he can see you as clearly as possible and so that you can see that he means it, just by the look of pure sorrow and desperation on his face.
“You don’t have to say it back. You can hate me if you want. But I fucking love you, and I don’t know how to stop.”
Neither do you.
In fact, you’re beginning to wonder if you’ll be stuck in this purgatory of hating and loving him all at once forever.
He doesn’t give you time to even formulate a response. Instead, he wipes your mind clean with a passionate kiss.
At a snail’s pace, he draws back his hips before snapping them forward, quickly filling you up again.
He does this a few times, wanting to go slow and drag this out as long as possible but also desperately wanting to be sheathed inside you.
Every thrust is so deep, it knocks the air right out of your lungs.
“That feel good, baby?” He purrs.
“Mm hmm.” is all you seem to manage.
You don’t see it coming.
His hand comes down hard on your cheek, leaving behind a red, hot sting in its wake.
“I didn’t quite get that.” He taunts you.
“It feels so good, Eren! You’re so good!” You cry out.
That seems to satisfy him. In fact, it spurs him on. He rolls his hips faster. The fat, spongy tip of his cock hits your g-spot with every motion.
It’s in this moment that you realise you should have asked him to fuck you from behind, you think. That way, you wouldn’t have to see him like this—the most feral he’s ever been. His dark hair has all but fallen out of his carelessly tied bun; his golden tan skin is glowing with the sheen of sweat; and soft grunts escape through his gritted teeth. Now that you’ve seen it, you can’t look away, even if you tried.
The creaking of the mattress underneath you becomes louder, and the headboard bangs against the wall harder. All the while, there’s a pressure building in your pelvis, threatening to explode at any moment.
“Are you close, angel?” He purrs.
"Please, Eren, I’m so close.”
Without warning, he starts slowing down again, and your bubbling orgasm fizzles back into just a simmer. “You already came, like, what? Three times? And you still want more? I thought you were sensitive." He says it with enough condescension to make you gag. It should embarrass you, but honestly, you don’t have an ounce of shame left.
“Please, Eren. I need to cum around your fat cock.”
He freezes. Both of you are seemingly surprised at the words that came out of your mouth just now.
“Say that for me on camera.”
“What?”
He ignores you, instead reaching over you, fumbling to grab his phone off the nightstand. One would think that something like that would kill the mood, but you’re too riled up to care. In fact, the thought of him wanting this so much, wanting you so much, that he needs to have a video of it so he can watch it over and over again is more arousing than anything else.
He points the camera at you. “Say it.” He demands.
You shouldn’t let him record this. All it is is evidence of your sin.
You trust Eren to never share it, but the mere fact that it exists means you can never pretend it didn’t happen.
“Eren please.” You whine, “Please let me cum on your cock.”
“Cum for me, baby. You can do it.”
He discards the phone on the bed next to you. You wonder briefly if it was still recording, if maybe he’ll jerk off to the sound of your pants and moans, imagining having you in his bed like this.
Because this is the last time it will happen. It has to be.
“Good girl.”
But God, what you wouldn't give to hear him say that again?
You’re balancing on the edge of a needle, so close to exploding around him.
“Eren! Fuck! Fuck! Yes!”
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to hold off for as long as possible so that this doesn’t have to end just yet. When they flutter open, the camera is back in your face.
“You’re so fucking sexy. God, I missed this so much.” The reverence in his emerald eyes doesn’t fool you for a second.
Sure, he missed this. You missed this too. But did he miss you?
You can’t process that thought right now. Not when he starts to play with your already raw and abused clit. The sensation borders on painful but melts into pleasure soon enough, absolutely wrecking every effort you make to deny your own orgasm.
“Close. I’m close.” Your voice breaks. You’re barely hanging on, unable to even form sentences.
“Come for me, baby. Come on.”
That’s it. Your vision goes black for a moment as your eyes roll back into your head. This feeling, this utter euphoria—it's indescribable. An incredible drug that you thought you would never get a fix of again. How could you quit him again after this? Your cunt spasms around him, milking his cock for everything it’s got.
You’re amazing. He thinks. You’re not even trying; in fact, you’re blissfully unaware of how fucking sexy you look right now. Cumming around his cock, forgetting about everyone who isn’t him.
He keeps fucking you, even though your legs are numb, save for a faint tingle in your toes.
“Fuck, fuck, fucking Christ!” He mutters. You know he’s close as well. It’s taken a lot for him to hold off this long as well, but he wanted to make good on his promise. He wants you to remember this for the rest of your life. He wants you to keep coming back to him, just for this, over and over again until you realise that you belong to him.
Because he has always been painfully aware that he belongs to you.
He pulls out of you, jerking off over your stomach, using the pearly white cream you left behind as lube.
Your droopy eyes are barely hanging open, but you can’t bring yourself to close them. How could you dare to look away from him? Gone are the clever comments and lascivious dirty talk; only primal grunts and groans while he flicks his wrist over his cock at a furious pace.
Eren pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and starts to buck his hips into his hands.
“I love you.” You slur, in a post-orgasmic haze, the words leaving your mouth before your brain can stop you.
Saying the words lifts a heavy weight off your chest, like finally confessing a lie you’ve been hiding for so long. But it is replaced by a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. A deep, seated guilt that makes you wish you never came here.
But, oh, how could you regret a single thing when you get to see Eren cum, just for you? Suddenly, you understand his penchant for documenting so many of your trysts.
He moans your name in a hoarse, breathy voice as he shoots rope after rope of hot, sticky, white cum all over your belly.
When he’s finally sated, he collapses on the bed next to you, just as exhausted as you. He pulls your naked body flush against his body. His warm breath ghosts over your neck, slowly lulling you to sleep.
He leaves one last, longing kiss along the column of your neck and then whispers, “I love you.”