#her lightest touch commands obedience indeed

[cummodus]

Augh Maximus telling Lucilla he thinks Lucilla has a talent for survival I'm going to jump from a bridge

[liquorisce]

don't stop, said she ch 3

rating: E, 18+ only

pairing: eren x mikasa, snk

summary: "... Turn around, my love. I want you to see what I see, when I fuck you."

part 3 of my smut anthology for eremika smut week 2021 on twitter.

a/n: this chapter was ENTIRELY inspired by hanpetos-sama and their glorious artwork (https://twitter.com/hanpetos/status/1413173032483540996?s=20)

i literally could not function after seeing that, and simply had to write this that same night (just took me a while to edit)

read on ao3 | pt 2 | pt 1

Mikasa looks beautiful in black.

Eren’s gaze is appreciative of it, from the other side of the room - the black fabric that clings delicately to the curve of her body, teasing milky slopes and sliding temptingly open across her pale thighs. The satin drapes wide across her collar, all the way down to a pleasing v down her breasts.

There’s a delightful darkness in the green of his eyes, a hunger that makes her feel things - so she’s careful to avoid his gaze in the mirror, focusing deliberately on the plum shade that she applies to her lips. (but the faintest red flush on her cheeks gives away her awareness)

She closes her eyes when he walks up behind her, his lips dropping a faint kiss on the back of her neck, hands deceptively gentle on her waist. “Hm,” she smiles, a slight shiver running through her.

Something about how delicate she feels, leaning back against him involuntarily as she shivers under his lightest touch, makes him feel possessive, his hands sliding roughly up the (very) short hem of her dress, fingers squeezing against the curve of her ass.

He meets her grey eyes watching him in the reflection. She’s amused (and aroused), and something about her amusement riles him up. “Something funny?” he asks, fingers rising to the knot holding the flimsy fabric together.

“Hmm,” she mumbles, distracted by his lips on her nape, “... We have a reservation, you know.”

He nibbles on the sensitive portion of her neck, just beneath her jaw, where she’s prone to being marked (where he’s prone to marking her), “... you hungry?”

He meets her gaze in their reflection, and she blushes under the heat of it.

“...I can feed you, if you’re that hungry,” he murmurs, and she can feel herself grow faint. She’s weak to the way he talks to her, in that way of his, like he knows what she likes (controls it), what affects her, knows how to use it against her.

Oh, and how it affects her. He feels her go weak against him, sighing, “Eren...” Regardless, when his hands untie the knot on her dress (without much effort, as if it was meant to come apart under his fingers), her hands move to stop him, without thinking.

He stills instantly, green eyes narrowing at her. “... You want me to stop, huh. I can stop.” He moves away from her, hands off of her hips, her waist, his lips so far away from the skin he was suckling, and Mikasa almost whines. - “I didnt’t mean” -

“Didn’t mean, what? Didn’t want me to strip you of that dress?”

He states his intentions simply, and it makes her burn, makes her feel heat in all the places that come alive only when she’s near him. She doesn’t know how he does it, because all she can do is mumble desperately - “I didn’t want you to stop,” -

“... Fine, then you do it.” Her eyes grow wide, “... Take off that dress for me, Mikasa.”

He watches her shamelessly, expectantly, and it just makes her comply, makes her slip nervous fingers into the knot, and loosen the tie that holds her modesty together. When she clutches the folds of her dress together, shyly, she looks up at him, and he chuckles.

“No underwear, huh,” he tries to keep it cool, but there’s an edge to his voice, because the sight that she presents is mouth watering, smooth skin from her breasts to her navel, to the part of her that she hides with the shy cross of her legs. “Take it off,” he rasps, looking impatiently at the garb around her shoulders and even though she’s embarrassed and aroused, she’s always found it so, so easy to listen to him.

And it’s the fact that his own hands are busy, busy undoing the buckle of his pants, sliding down the zipper, that makes her turn towards to him, eagerly, saying, “... let me,” -

“... I didn’t ask you to, my love,” he says, smoothly, and her cheeks burn. “... Turn around, I want you to see what I see when i fuck you.” He sees the startled recognition in her eyes when she understands what he means, her tongue peeking out to lick her lower lip nervously.

She turns to see herself in the mirror and indeed, she can see what he sees - herself, naked, embarrassed, and horribly aroused.

He moves back to make himself comfortable on the bed, legs spread lazily, a languid fist curled around his cock, stroking. His eyes linger blatantly where they please, dark green and salacious, first on the curves of her breasts, then on the swell of her ass. There's something about the way he's watching her, flagrantly sexual and hungry and it makes her rub her thighs together.

He notices.

"Wow you really want it, huh?" He coos, more affected than he lets on, pupils dilating in arousal. He strokes himself harder, slick with precum. "Look at you, Mikasa, I can see you dripping down your thighs…"

And sure enough she was… wet and dripping and desperate for him.

"... You want me to touch you, don't you?"

And even though it's embarrassing, it's downright humiliating, the way he asks this question, with the absolute assurance that she does in fact want him to touch her, wants him to hold her, and kiss her, and fill her up in the quickest way -

"... Then touch yourself. Touch yourself the way you want me to."

"... Eren, I can't possibly…"

Because she can't, she knows, she can touch herself for hours but it will never compare to the way he touches her, careless almost, sometimes delicate, sometimes rough, seeking his own pleasure - no, her fingers reach down to her pussy and she uses her fingers with a delicateness she doesn't need, because she's wet and wanting, and so very ready.

But he wants a show, and he demands it, murmuring, "... I want you to spread yourself for me, Mikasa."

The way I do, he says, with his eyes, his lustful gaze, and Mikasa can feel it, feels the way his fingers would spread her folds, feels the way they'd linger to take in the sight of it.

So she spreads her legs, hesitantly, spreading her pussy for him, showing him what he wants to see. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, neck arched, breasts thrusting into the air, and she shudders.

"... Show me how I'd fuck you, show me with your fingers, my love."

It's hypnotic the way he says it, and the way she just grows wetter and wetter with everything he says. She's pumping two fingers now, in and out of her, lips parted in pretty gasps. He watches her give into his commands (even when he asks her to add a third, and he sees her struggle), and he can feel himself pulse as he jerks himself erratically with his fist.

He's worked up and slick with his own arousal, but he spares a thought for a moment about how Mikasa would be happy to (as she offered earlier) lube him up with her mouth, and stroke him, with hands and lips, and sheer adoration… and choke on his dick till he couldn't take it anymore.

But this is special so he suffers it - special because he likes to watch her, likes to watch her reflection, likes to watch the humiliation on her face when she sees herself obey him so thoroughly, fingering herself and sucking on her own fingers.

It pleases him to the point where he's rock hard and he doesn't even know why - doesn't know if it's her devotion, her obedience, her body or her overwhelming beauty. It's too much - and when she sees her shudder, sees her cheat (because he never gave her permission to cum), he stalks over to her and pushes her against the closet door.

"... Enough," he murmurs, voice thick with arousal, and he sees her eyes open hazily, gasping, tears pricking the corners of her eyes at having escaped her almost impending orgasm.

Eren has a stray thought, about just how precious she looks, and how appealing it would be to experiment more with orgasm denial, to watch her consistently get worked up only to be frustrated again.

But that's a thought for a different time, because now all he can think about is just how much he wants her, because he's worked up beyond measure from the tantalizing show she put on moments earlier.

She gets on her knees without even him having to ask (he loves it), and when she reaches to take him in her mouth, he stops her.

"... Cup your breasts for me, Mikasa."

Her fingers squeeze tentatively around her breasts, bringing them up to him, nipples crushed by her fingers, a tempting offering that makes his mouth go dry. "... Like this?" She asks, looking up at him, flushed.

He doesn't really know what he's doing, doesn't know what comes over him, but he slaps his dick against her soft breast, and a delicious tingle runs through him. "Come closer to me," he rasps, and he reaches for her head, pulling her towards him until he's pressing his cock into her silky mounds. He jerks into her desperately, and he can't help but groan at the sensation, the sheer temptation of it all.

"Wait…," she says, and she moves back to look at him shyly, before she uses her own saliva to lubricate the slopes of her tits. She's glistening, but it's so dirty, and it always amazes him that this beautiful, perfect, woman is so happy to debase herself for him. "I've been wanting to try this," she admits, pressing her tits together, looking up at him, skin gleaming and flushed.

It takes him only a second to understand, and it turns him on more than he could ever admit. But he wants to push her, take her just a little bit farther so he says, "what have you been wanting to try?"

She stutters for a moment, but says, quickly, before she chickens out, "I want to make you feel good… like this." And she proceeds to show him exactly what she means.

It's sensory overload for him when she takes him between her mounds, sweet pressure and a delicious friction, and a look on her face that drives him over the edge. He tells her what he likes ("... Hold them together, Mikasa," he groans, "up and down, yes, just like that."), and she complies, licking the tip of him when she can, stopping to make sure she's lubricated enough for him.

"... Open your mouth," he commands, when he feels himself building, having already left a glistening trail of precum in the valley between her breasts.

"Beg me for it, Mikasa," he pants, jerking furiously, holding off only because he needs to hear her, "... tell me how much you want my cum."

She's still cupping her breasts, kneeling in front of him, and she wants him in more ways than one, wants to taste him and savour it, so she says, breathlessly, "... I want to drink it."

"Feed me, Eren," she begs, and it shocks her just how needy she sounds, like she needs his release as much as her own, "... cum inside my mouth, please," -

"... Open your mouth, I want to see your tongue," he breathes harshly, and the sight of her kneeling obediently, lips parted, tongue peeking out wantonly, drives him over the edge, and he spills into her, lets his release pool into her open mouth, as he shudders with pleasure.

It drips down the side of her chin, and when he's caught his breath, he murmurs hoarsely, "... You can swallow," and she does, beautifully.

He collapses onto the floor beside her, resting against the closet door. She smiles at him, pretty, and naked and thoroughly sticky thanks to him, "... I guess you fed me after all, huh."

"Yeah," he whispers, dropping a kiss to her cheek, "... but later, it's my turn to have dessert."

a/n: "author-san, when will you write eren and mikasa actually fucking?!"

*hides*