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jaegsnicotine · 4 months ago

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Ocean Waves,

Sands, and

Kisses. | Eren Jaeger

NSFW — part 2

A/N: if we go down then we’ll go down together baes cuz wtf did i just wrote🥰 as always, hope yall enjoy mwah mwah. comments and likes are sooo much appreciated, i’d looovee to hear your opinions!

PART 2.

You wanna try?”

The question lingers between you, light as the sea breeze yet heavy in your chest.

You stare at him, the man before you, the one with sun-kissed skin and a gaze that mirrors the ocean itself—vast, untamed, impossible to pin down.

You hesitate.

The idea of it—the ocean, the waves, the way the water never stays still—feels daunting. And yet, standing here, with his question hanging in the salty air, it’s not just the ocean you’re unsure of.

Your fingers twitch at your sides.

“I don’t think I do,” you finally say, the words slipping out softer than intended, almost like an apology.

He doesn’t react much. There’s no disappointment, no persuasion, no attempt to change your mind. Just a slow blink, a tilt of his head, and then—

“Alright.”

That’s it.

No protest. No lingering look. Just an acceptance as simple as the waves meeting the shore.

And then he turns, his presence retreating just as easily as it had arrived.

Something in your chest pulls tight.

You watch him walk away, the sand shifting beneath his bare feet, his movements effortless, unrushed. The wind plays with his hair, tousling the strands as he makes his way back toward the spot where his dog waits, a border collie bouncing eagerly in another surfboard of his.

It’s as if he never expected you to say yes in the first place.

As if your answer was insignificant.

As if you are.

Your arms wrap around yourself, the sea breeze nipping at your skin. He’s already further now, steps growing smaller in the distance, his figure blending into the vastness of the horizon.

And you—

You remain stuck in place.

Like a wave that never fully crashes.

Like something unfinished.

The weight in your chest shifts, uncertainty pressing against your ribs. There’s a small voice in the back of your mind, one that whispers that maybe—just maybe—you should have said yes.

Not for the ocean.

Not for the surfing.

But for something else entirely.

Your eyes trace the fading imprint of his footsteps, the sand already swallowing them whole. Like he was never here. Like this moment, this fleeting offer will be gone forever if you don’t do something now.

Maybe, just this once…

Maybe you need to feel what it’s like to be weightless, too.

Before you can stop yourself, you take a step forward. Then another.

"Wait."

The word leaves your lips before you can think. Before you can stop yourself.

His steps slow.

You move.

"Excuse me—wait!"

He turns, the dying sunlight catching in his eyes, painting gold into deep green.

You don’t know what you’re expecting to see in his face—surprise, amusement, maybe even mild irritation—but instead, there’s nothing. Not cold, not warm, just unreadable.

It makes your pulse quicken, suddenly unsure what to say now that you have his attention again.

You stop a few feet away, swallowing down the nerves rising in your throat.

"I changed my mind," you say, the admission barely above a breath.

A pause.

Then, with the same quiet acceptance as before, he nods toward the red surfboard he had abandoned earlier. "Alright, then."

No question. No why.

Just alright.

It should be unnerving. It should be frustrating.

Instead, it feels like relief.

—

The ocean is colder than you expected.

It licks at your ankles first, then climbs higher as you follow him into the water, the chill sending a shiver up your spine. The red surfboard bobs lightly in the waves as he drags it along, his hand steady where it grips the edge.

"You alright?"

You glance at him. He’s watching you, not impatient, not expectant—just waiting.

You nod. "Yeah."

A flicker of something crosses his face, too brief to name, before he gestures toward the board. "Get on."

It should be simple. It’s just a surfboard. It’s just water.

But the moment you place your hands on the smooth surface, the weight of it all settles in.

You’re not used to this. To the unpredictability, the lack of solid ground. The ocean shifts beneath you, restless, uncaring of your hesitation.

He notices.

"You don’t have to do this," he says, voice calm, steady.

But you do.

Because if you don’t, you’ll regret it.

Swallowing hard, you push yourself up, chest pressing against the board, legs trailing in the water. The position is awkward, foreign. You grip the edges tightly, heart pounding at how unsteady it all feels.

His voice reaches you again, low and grounding. "We’ll paddle out first. Then, when we get to the right spot, you’ll try to stand."

You nod, though your grip doesn’t loosen.

"You can hold onto me if you need to," he offers.

A part of you bristles at the suggestion, at the idea of needing to rely on someone else. But another part—the one drowning in uncertainty—almost reaches for him.

Instead, you shake your head. "I think I’m okay."

He doesn’t argue.

"Alright."

And then he moves.

The ocean stretches before you, endless and deep. You follow as best you can, paddling through the water, your muscles already aching from the unfamiliar motion. The board wobbles beneath you, the waves rolling beneath its surface, making you hyperaware of every shift, every tilt.

Then—

Your hair whips forward, strands flying into your face, tangling in the wind.

The man exhales sharply. And before you can react, his fingers brush against your skin, tucking the loose strands behind your ear.

You freeze.

Not because of the touch itself, but because of how natural it feels. Quick. Thoughtless. Like he didn’t even need to consider it.

Like it was instinct.

"Better?"

Your throat feels dry. "Yeah."

His voice is steady as he starts explaining. How to balance, how to move with the board, how to stand when the time comes. You listen, trying to take it all in, but there’s something about his voice that keeps pulling you back—deep, slow, deliberate, like the waves themselves.

You fail. Again. And again.

Each time, frustration builds, bubbling in your chest. But before you can even voice it, before you can let the words I’m sorry slip out—

"It’s alright," he says.

Like he knew you were going to say it. Like there was never any need to.

"Try again."

And you do.

Until finally—finally—the sky has begun its descent into gold, the sun dipping lower, the water turning softer, warmer.

And you’re standing.

Shaky, unsteady, but standing.

A laugh bubbles up from your chest, breathless and disbelieving. You barely get to enjoy the moment before a wave comes in, knocking you off balance.

The last thing you hear before you hit the water is a distant shit—

Strong arms pull you up.

You blink up, water dripping down your face, into your eyes. He’s close—closer than before, his hands firm around your waist, keeping you upright as the waves move around you. His body shields you from the worst of it, breaking the force before it can knock you back under.

You should pull away.

But you don’t.

The ocean moves around you both, restless and endless, and yet, in this moment, everything feels still.

You meet his eyes. His face is unreadable, but there’s something in the way he looks at you—something that makes your breath catch.

It takes a second before he finally speaks.

"Anything hurt?"

You shake your head.

He doesn’t move right away. Just stays there, watching you.

Then, gently, he guides you back to the board. Back to the shore.

By the time you reach the sand, the sky has melted into warm hues, the sun almost gone. The others are further down the beach, but here, it’s quiet. Just the two of you.

The two of you sit by the shore, close enough to hear each other over the waves but not close enough to touch. The sand sticks to your damp skin, the sun dipping lower, casting a golden hue over the water. Your legs are stretched out, toes buried in the cool, grainy texture, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you aren’t thinking about anything else.

Just this. Just now.

“You live around here?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

He exhales, gaze fixed on the horizon. “No.” A pause. “Wish I did, though.”

You tilt your head slightly, considering that. “Why?”

He doesn’t answer right away. For a moment, you think he might not answer at all. Then, with a slow breath, he says, “Feels… open.”

Your brows furrow slightly. Open?

He gestures toward the ocean with a small tilt of his head. “No walls. No borders. Just… space.”

You follow his gaze, watching the way the waves stretch endlessly, no end in sight. You’ve never thought of it that way before. The ocean, to you, has always felt unpredictable, restless, untamed. But to him… it’s something else entirely.

“You don’t like feeling closed in?” you ask carefully.

Something flickers in his expression—just for a second—before it disappears, swallowed up by the dimming light of the setting sun.

“No.”

He doesn’t elaborate. You don’t push.

And yet, somehow, you understand.

A silence settles between you, but it’s not heavy. It’s the kind that lingers when two people are just existing in the same space, watching the same sky turn gold and orange and pink. The ocean hums in the background, waves rolling in steady and slow. You hug your knees to your chest, letting the salty air cling to your skin, your damp hair curling from the sea breeze.

“You surf a lot?” you ask after a while, turning your head slightly toward him.

He hums, as if thinking. “Yeah.”

“That was my first time.”

He glances at you, something amused glinting in his eyes. “Figured.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “I was that bad?”

His lips twitch, almost like he’s fighting a smirk. “You did fine.”

You roll your eyes but smile anyway.

You don’t know why, but you like sitting here with him. Talking in slow, careful exchanges, the conversation flowing without ever feeling forced.

You open your mouth, about to ask something else—maybe where he’s from, maybe something else entirely—when a voice calls your name from the distance.

“There you are.”

You turn, finding Historia standing a few feet away, arms crossed. Her gaze flickers between you and the man beside you, brows pinching slightly. “We’re about to eat. Come on.”

You blink, momentarily thrown off by the interruption.

When you turn back, he’s already standing. He brushes the sand off his hands, gives you a small nod, and mutters, “See you around,” like this was just another passing moment in his life. Like he was ready to leave without looking back.

And maybe he was.

But for some reason, you’re not.

Before you can second-guess yourself, your hand reaches out. Not for him, not directly—but for the silver chain bracelet around his wrist, fingers lightly catching the cool metal before he can step away.

He stills.

His gaze flicks down to where your fingers barely touch his bracelet, then drags up to meet your eyes. His expression remains unreadable, but there’s something in the way he looks at you, something you can’t quite decipher.

You swallow, suddenly hyper aware of how impulsive this is, but you don’t let go.

Instead, you sit there, still half-turned toward him on the sand, the wind playing with the loose strands of your hair. Your heart beats a little faster.

You don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s something else entirely.

But for whatever reason, you feel like you need to know.

“Your name,” you say, soft but certain. “What is it?”

He watches you for a beat, silent. Like he’s debating whether to answer or not.

Then, finally—

“Eren.”

You repeat it in your head first, then quietly on your tongue. Testing the weight of it, the sound of it. It suits him, you think.

And then, without really thinking, you smile up at him. A real smile, small but genuine, your lips curving before you murmur, “I’m [♡]. Thanks for today, Eren.”

Something shifts in his expression. Subtle, barely there. But for the first time since you met him, his gaze lingers, just for a second too long.

And though he says nothing—deep down—he kind of likes that smile on you. It looks better than your puffy, red eyes.

A small nod. Then he says your name—quiet, gentle, and it somehow sounds so right when he says it. You want to hear it again over and over.

He left the second after, calling out his dog as it followed him away. While you finally also stand up, watching until he’s far enough gone.

—

As you and Historia walk back toward the others, the warm sand shifting beneath your feet, she nudges your shoulder lightly.

“So…” she starts, dragging out the word, a smirk already forming. “Who was that?”

You don’t answer right away. Your gaze flickers toward the ring on your ring finger. For the first time ever, the face flashing on your mind as you do so is not Porco’s, your boyfriend.

“Just someone who helped me out,” you say, voice carefully even.

Historia isn’t buying it. She raises a brow. “Right. Just someone.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t even know him.”

“But you wanted to.”

That makes you pause.

Because it’s true.

Something about him—his presence, the way he carried himself, the way he watched you with that quiet, unreadable gaze—made you *want* to understand him. Made you crave just a little more than what he had given.

Historia must see the way your expression shifts because her smirk softens into something more knowing. “Well,” she says, linking her arm through yours, “he was kinda hot.”

You huff out a small laugh, shaking your head. “That’s not the point.”

“Oh, so there’s a point?”

You sigh, nudging her playfully. “I hate you.”

She grins. “No, you don’t.”

You don’t.

But as you walk, the ocean breeze still clinging to your skin, the weight of his name still lingering in your mind, you realize maybe you’re not done figuring out what exactly the point is.

—

Some weeks have passed and you’re doomed.

No matter how much you try to push him out of your head, he lingers.

Like the scent of salt in your hair after a day at the beach, like the warmth of the sun long after it’s set. His name, his face, the deep, steady timbre of his voice—they’re always there. And it’s starting to drive you insane.

You don’t even know why.

You barely know him.

And yet, he’s been occupying too much space in your mind ever since that day.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so frustrating if things were different. If your life wasn’t already complicated enough. But the thing is—you have a boyfriend.

And that thought alone makes your stomach churn.

It’s not even like you did anything. You just met someone at the beach, and he happened to stay in your thoughts a little longer than you’d like. It doesn’t mean anything. And yet, deep down, it feels like something, and you can’t shake the shame that comes with it.

Because Porco is nothing but good to you.

He treats you like you’re the most precious thing in the world, like you’re his queen, his everything. No one—absolutely no one—would ever believe that he was capable of cheating on you. Not with the way he treats you, not with the way he loves you.

And yet, he did.

The knowledge of it has been eating you alive.

Because you still haven’t broken up with him.

You don’t even know why. Maybe it’s because of the way he holds you, the way he makes you feel special, the way he convinces you that you’re the only one that matters, even when you know it’s a lie.

Or maybe it’s because a part of you is scared to let go.

—

“You want me to take you where?”

Porco glances at you from the driver’s seat, brows furrowed in confusion.

“The beach,” you say again, staring out the window as the buildings blur past.

“The beach?” he repeats, like he didn’t hear you right the first time. “Since when do you like the beach?”

You hesitate.

You don’t.

But for some reason, you need to be there.

“I just… want some fresh air,” you say, keeping your tone light.

Porco is still frowning, but he doesn’t question it further. “Alright, if that’s what you want.”

The drive is quiet, except for the faint hum of the radio playing in the background. Porco holds your hand the entire ride. His fingers are warm, wrapped securely around yours, thumb brushing gently over your skin. Every so often, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing soft kisses to your knuckles like he’s trying to brand the feeling into your bones.

Like he’s never done anything to betray you.

Like he isn’t lying straight to your face.

When you finally arrive, Porco parks near the entrance, cutting the engine.

He turns to you, a small smile playing on his lips. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Just needed some time alone.”

He hums, as if considering something, before reaching for you. His hand cups your cheek gently, tilting your face toward his. And then, before you can think, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

It’s slow. Sweet.

Like nothing’s wrong.

Like he never betrayed you.

When he pulls away, his thumb brushes against your cheek, his gaze warm. “I’d stay with you, but I promised my mom I’d be home early.”

You swallow down the bitter laugh threatening to spill out.

His mom. Right.

“I get it,” you say instead, forcing a small smile.

Porco grins, pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “Call me if you want me to pick you up, yeah?”

You nod.

And then, just like that, he’s gone.

—

The waves crash rhythmically against the shore, the scent of salt filling the air as you walk along the sand. You hadn’t brought a swimsuit, still dressed in the clothes you wore to class, but you don’t mind. You hadn’t planned on swimming anyway.

You just needed to breath.

Your gaze drifts toward the ocean, and that’s when you see him.

Out there, in the middle of the waves.

His movements are effortless, the water bending to his will as he cuts through it with precision. He looks so at ease, like he belongs there. And maybe he does. The sea is free, untamed, just like him.

You don’t even realize how long you’ve been staring until something crashes into you.

A sharp yelp leaves your lips as you lose balance, falling onto the sand with a startled gasp.

A dog.

A big, soaking-wet dog.

You blink in surprise before a laugh escapes you. The dog is all over you, its fur damp from the ocean, tail wagging excitedly. Its collar catches your eye, the name ‘Aero’ etched into the metal tag.

“You’re a menace,” you murmur, running a hand through its fur as it licks at your wrist.

“That explains a lot.”

You freeze at the voice.

Glancing up, you find him standing a few feet away, his surfboard tucked under one arm, droplets of seawater trailing down his skin. He’s watching you, one brow slightly raised, expression unreadable.

The last time you saw him, the sun had been setting, casting shadows across his face. Now, with the daylight hitting him directly, you can see him clearly. The sharp angles of his jaw, the striking green of his eyes, the way his damp hair sticks messily to his forehead. The silver chain around his neck.

You suddenly feel very small.

“Hey,” you say, a little awkwardly.

He glances at Aero, who is still all over you. “Didn’t take you for a dog person.”

You huff, pushing Aero off gently before dusting the sand off your clothes. “Didn’t exactly have a choice.”

His lips twitch slightly, like he’s amused. But it disappears just as fast as it came.

“You wanna learn to surf again?” he asks, tilting his head.

You blink. “No.”

That makes him pause. “Then what are you doing here?”

“I just wanted some fresh air,” you admit.

He watches you for a moment, like he’s trying to figure something out. And then, after a beat, he says, “Come on.”

You frown. “What?”

“There’s a beach bar nearby,” he says simply. “Best drinks you’ll ever have.”

You hesitate.

But then, against all logic, you find yourself nodding.

You fall into step beside him, the sand warm beneath your feet as the waves roll lazily against the shore. He walks with an effortless kind of ease, hands tucked into the pockets of his board shorts, his surfboard left behind near where Aero had tackled you. He doesn’t seem in a rush, his strides slow, unbothered.

The silence lingers between you for a while, but it’s not uncomfortable.

It gives you time to think.

Time to acknowledge the way the sun catches in his damp hair, the way his skin glistens with residual saltwater, the way his presence feels strangely grounding despite the turbulence in your own mind.

The fact that you’re even here, walking beside him, still doesn’t make sense to you.

You’re not sure what makes less sense—the fact that you sought him out in the first place or the fact that you feel drawn to him.

And maybe he notices your thoughts straying, because his voice cuts through the quiet.

“So,” he says, glancing at you. “You just happened to end up at the same beach again?”

“Yeah.”

His brows lift slightly, unconvinced.

You exhale, shifting your gaze toward the ocean. “It’s close to my campus.”

“That right?”

“Yeah.”

“Same,” he says.

That makes you stop for a second, turning to look at him properly. “Wait—really?”

“Yeah.” He lifts a brow at your reaction.

“You’re a student?”

He huffs a small laugh. “What, I don’t look like one?”

You hesitate, scanning him over. If you’re being honest, no—he doesn’t. He looks like he belongs here, not in a classroom. You wouldn’t have pegged him as a college student at all.

But now that he’s said it, you’re curious.

“What’s your major?” you ask, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you’ve apparently been on the same campus as him this whole time.

“Architecture.”

That catches you off guard. “Huh.”

“Huh, what?” he teases, arching a brow.

You shrug, smiling slightly. “I just… didn’t expect that.”

His eyes glint with amusement. “And what did you expect?”

You purse your lips, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Maybe a full-time beach bum.”

He lets out a short laugh. “That’s a solid backup plan.”

You shake your head, still in disbelief.

“What’s yours?” he asked.

“Dentistry.”

He nods, whistling. “Figured.”

You raise an eyebrow at his reaction, but chuckle along. “We’re in the same year?”

“Yeah. Graduating next year.”

The realization settles in. You’ve gone your whole time in university without ever noticing him—until now. And now, here he is, walking beside you like you’ve known each other longer than just a few days.

You don’t know why, but it unsettles you a little.

Maybe because deep down, you know this—whatever this is—is something you shouldn’t be doing.

—

The beach bar stands out against the shoreline with its oversized neon sign flashing a name so ridiculous, you almost snort.

The Salty Coconut.

It’s got everything—a giant cartoon coconut wearing sunglasses, a thatched roof that barely looks stable, and a whole wall of surfboards propped up beside the counter.

You follow him inside, taking in the mix of locals and tourists scattered around, some lounging on mismatched stools, others standing by the open windows where the ocean breeze drifts through. The bartender, a guy with a buzzed-cut and an easy grin, perks up the moment he sees him.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again this soon.”

He leans against the counter, nodding toward you. “She’s never been here.”

The bartender’s gaze flickers to you, his grin widening. “That so?”

You shift slightly under his attention, not used to being in places like this.

“Well, in that case, first round’s on me,” the bartender says, already grabbing a couple of glasses. “Best damn drinks on this beach.”

You glance at the boy beside you. He’s watching you, head tilted slightly.

“You don’t have to drink,” he says, like he can sense your hesitation.

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine.”

Because deep down, you want to stay.

The drink arrives, a vibrant mix of tropical colors in a tall glass, the rim coated with sugar. You take a tentative sip, and immediately, your face scrunches up.

You don’t usually drink. Not because of any strong stance against it—you just never liked the taste. But apparently, that’s not the case for him.

He drinks like it’s second nature, taking a long sip before setting his glass down with an easy sigh. When he notices your expression, he lets out a low chuckle.

“Not your thing?”

You shake your head slightly. “Not really.”

He shifts, then lifts a hand toward the bartender. “Connie—”

You stop him before he can order something else. “It’s fine,” you say quickly. “I actually feel like I need it.”

His eyes flick to yours, and for a moment, he just looks at you. Like he’s seeing something past your words, something you’re not outright saying.

Then, he leans back slightly. His gaze turns unreadable, but his next words are careful.

“You can talk.”

And for a second, you almost do.

You almost tell him everything—the way your mind has been a mess ever since that first day, the way guilt gnaws at your stomach even though you know you shouldn’t be the one feeling guilty.

But you don’t.

Instead, you exhale, swirling the drink in your hand. “My boyfriend and I aren’t really… doing well.”

Silence.

Then, he blinks. “You have a boyfriend?”

His tone isn’t angry. It’s just… surprise, disbelief maybe.

You let out an awkward laugh, taking another sip. He watches you carefully. Then, after a moment, his lips part slightly.

“Why the fuck are you here with me, then?”

You pause. You don’t really have an answer to that.

Your fingers tighten around your drink. “I don’t know.”

For the first time tonight, he looks away. Exhales through his nose. Then, after a beat, he shifts slightly, still not meeting your gaze.

“So, I ain’t gonna be the best choice for your problem,” he mutters, voice low. “But I can listen.”

You hum softly, taking another sip. The alcohol sits warm in your chest, and suddenly, everything feels too much.

You exhale, heavier this time. Your eyes burn, throat tightening.

Before you realize it, you’re laying your head down on your arms, voice muffled as you murmur, “I don’t know if the problem is with me or what.”

The words come out quiet. Defeated.

Eren doesn’t say anything. He just listens, drink in hand. You don’t say anything else after that, eyes closed. Your mind starts to wonder if you’re the reason, if maybe you just weren’t enough. Maybe if you were prettier, more fun, less… you, he wouldn’t have—

When you finally lift your head again, your face is hot and damp, cheeks stained with tears.

The moment Eren sees those tears staining your cheeks, your trembling lips, he sighed, rolling his eyes.

You barely even register Eren moving—only that, suddenly, his hand is brushing your face, thumb wiping away the wetness at your cheekbone.

“Don’t,” he mutters. His jaw is tight, eyes darker than before. “Don’t fucking cry.”

You freeze, suddenly thinking he’s mad at you. Your breath catches. “I—I’m sorry—”

He exhales sharply. “That’s not—” He stops himself, running a hand through his hair. Then, lower, rougher, “I’m not mad at you.”

You hesitate. He’s looking at you like he’s warring with himself, like something about your tears is fucking him up just as much as they’re fucking you up.

He leans back slightly, studying you. “I’m not good at comforting people,” he mutters. “So take what you want from me that’ll make you feel better.”

Your breath stutters.

Your chest feels hollow. Your mind is still stuck on Porco, on all the fucking questions swirling in your head, but right now—

Right now, Eren is here.

And you want to forget.

You slip off the stool, moving between his legs. His expression doesn’t change—just watches, eyes hooded, jaw tight.

You can see him up close from here, can sniff his strong cologne—sweet, fresh, and masculine scent blending with the remaining sea water. What is it? Vanilla? White musk? You’re not sure but damn he smells good.

You tilt your head up, voice quieter now.

“Can I kiss you?”

Eren doesn’t answer. Just leans in, closing the distance.

The second his lips touch yours, the world tilts.

It’s not soft. It’s not hesitant.

It’s slow, deep, purposeful.

His hand finds your waist, fingers pressing into your skin, pulling you closer—like he’s taking something from you, like he knows you’ll let him.

And the worst part? You will.

But you’re not just letting him have you.

You press forward, mouth opening against his, tongue teasing at the seam of his lips until he gives in and lets you in.

A deep sound rumbles from his chest as you kiss him deeper, greedier, fingers curling in the front of his shirt to pull him closer.

And fuck, it’s different. It’s not like Porco—not familiar, not safe.

It’s new. It’s intoxicating.

Eren’s fingers trail down your back, gripping your hip, tilting his head to take more of you, and you let him—give it to him, steal it from him, neither of you sure which.

And then—

“Ahem—Jaeger.”

You snap back, breathless, dazed, pulse thrumming in your ears.

The bartender raises a brow. “You do know I rent rooms in the back, right?”

Eren lets out a slow, low chuckle, the sound rumbling through your bones. His lips graze yours, barely touching, making you shiver.

“Yeah?” he murmurs. “You want to?”

Your body burns. Fuck, you’re dying over here.

You hesitate, biting your lip, suddenly silent. It’s too much. He’s too much.

Eren tilts his head, pressing another slow, teasing kiss to your lips—lighter, but somehow more devastating. “You sure?”

You nod slowly, unable to bring yourself to speak.

Still, he doesn’t move. Not convinced by your simple answer.

“C’mon, tell me,” he murmurs.

Your fingers curl against his chest, tugging on his chain. Fuck that voice of his.

“Yeah,” you look up at him, eyes glossy. “want to, Eren.”

That’s all it takes.

Eren tosses cash onto the counter before grabbing your wrist, pulling you through the back door—where a row of small villas waits in the dim light.

The door barely clicks shut before Eren’s hands are on you.

A gasp barely escapes your lips before he shoves you against the wood, the force rattling through your bones, but you don’t care—you barely get the chance to breathe before his mouth crashes onto yours, rough, demanding, stealing the air straight from your lungs.

It’s overwhelming. The way he kisses you, how his hands are already tugging at your clothes, how his body presses so close you can feel every muscle, every hard inch of him against you.

And fuck—this isn’t like before.

Porco had never touched you like this. Never kissed you like he wanted to consume you whole. His hands were never this greedy, his mouth never this filthy. Eren was different—he handled you like he already fucking owned you.

His palms skim up your thighs, pushing your skirt up, fingers teasing at the edge of your panties before yanking them down in one swift motion, leaving them tangled around your knees. His lips are still on yours, his tongue pushing deep, sucking on your bottom lip before he pulls back just enough to mutter against your mouth, “Let me see how fucking wet you are.”

You shudder as his fingers slide between your folds, teasing, pressing. A broken moan slips past your lips when he drags his fingers up your slit, thumb flicking at your clit before dipping two fingers inside without warning.

“Oh my god—” you choke, arching into his touch, your nails digging into his arms.

His fingers fuck into you, deep and slow, stretching you open as the slick, filthy sound of your pussy fills the quiet villa.

“That’s it,” Eren breathes, watching the way your thighs shake, the way you whimper against his lips. “Goddamn, you’re dripping. All this for me?”

“Y-yes,” you whine, hands gripping his shirt.

He chuckles, amused. “That desperate, huh?”

His fingers curl just right, pressing against the spot that makes you shudder, and you don’t even realize the word slipping past your lips until it’s too late.

“D-Daddy—”

Eren freezes. Then—his whole body tenses, his eyes snapping to yours.

A smirk spreads across his lips, slow, wicked. “The fuck did you just call me?”

You suck in a breath, mortified, shaking your head, but he’s already grinning, fingers pumping harder, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Say it again.”

“N-no, I—”

“C’mon, baby,” he croons, voice low, teasing. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing tight circles, making you whimper. “Pussy all wet for daddy, huh?”

You’re about to break, your entire body trembling, the pressure in your stomach tightening—

But then he stops.

Pulls his fingers out.

And shoves them straight into your mouth.

Your moan is muffled, eyes wide as he pushes his fingers deeper onto your tongue. “Suck,” he orders.

You do, tongue swirling around his fingers, tasting yourself, moaning as he watches you with those hungry, darkened eyes.

“Fuck,” he groans, yanking his fingers free. Before you can even process the loss, he grabs you, hoisting you up, carrying you straight to the bed before tossing you onto the mattress.

You barely bounce before he’s on you again, yanking your shirt open, buttons flying. It’s tossed to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your skirt and bra.

Eren pulls down his shorts just enough, his cock springing free, and when you reach out, eager to touch him, he slaps your hand away.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, shaking his head. “Not yet.”

He leans in, lips brushing against your ear. “Fucking show me where you want me.”

You swallow hard, breath shaky, but you do it—you trail your fingers down your stomach, slipping beneath your skirt, spreading your legs wider as you start rubbing yourself, moaning at the sensation.

Eren watches, jaw tight, his fist wrapping around his cock as he strokes himself slowly, eyes dark with lust. “Goddamn,” he breathes, rubbing his thumb over his slit, shuddering. “So fucking pretty.”

You’re getting close again, body trembling, moans getting louder, but just as you’re about to tip over the edge, Eren grabs your wrist, stopping you.

You whimper, eyes glassy with desperation, but he only smirks, dragging your hand to his cock, wrapping your fingers around him, his own hand covering yours as he makes you stroke him.

“Feel that?” he growls, guiding your movements. “That’s all for you, baby.”

Your breath stutters, thighs pressing together, so fucking desperate for him.

He leans down, mouth brushing against yours, voice dripping with sin. “Bet your boyfriend never made you feel like this, huh?”

Your stomach clenches, shame and arousal twisting inside you, but you don’t deny it.

Eren chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through your bones. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

His grip tightens around your wrist, movements rougher now, but you don’t care—you’re too lost in the moment, too lost in the feeling of him.

“Need you,” you beg, voice barely above a whisper. “Please, Eren, need you inside me—”

He curses, pulling away just long enough to reach into his back pocket, pulling out a condom.

But before he can tear it open, you grab his wrist. “No,” you whimper, shaking your head. “Don’t—just, just fuck me raw, please, I—”

Eren groans, his forehead pressing against yours. “Nah, baby,” he murmurs, voice soft but firm. “Can’t risk you anything.”

You pout, frustrated, needy, and he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your lips, soft and sweet, before rolling the condom on.

Then—he slides inside.

Your mouth falls open, eyes rolling back as the stretch burns, just the tip already pushing you to the brink.

Eren groans, watching your face, mesmerized, his hands gripping your hips to keep you still. “Goddamn,” he rasps. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Your nails dig into his arms, tears welling in your eyes. “Eren—”

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs, voice softer, almost sweet as he presses kisses to your jaw. “Just breathe. Let me in.”

Eren stills, letting you adjust, his jaw clenched, his fingers digging into your hips like he’s barely holding himself back.

You’re so full. So stretched. The pressure is overwhelming, and you squirm beneath him, gasping as your walls flutter around him, trying to accommodate the sheer size of him.

His breath is ragged against your skin, his forehead pressing against yours. "Can I move?" His voice is strained, wrecked with restraint. "You okay, baby?"

You nod, a whimper escaping your lips, fingers clenching against his arms. "Y-yeah—"

He pulls back, just a little, and pushes in deeper. You cry out, back arching, legs trembling around him.

“Fuck,” he groans, dropping his head to your neck. "So fucking tight—"

His hips rock into you, slow at first, rolling against you in deep, deliberate thrusts that have your head spinning. Each drag of his cock along your walls is torturous, spreading fire through your veins.

His hand trails down your stomach, slipping between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. He rubs it in lazy circles, sending jolts of pleasure through you, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

The slow, teasing pace has you on edge, body tensed, desperately needing more. You try to move, to rock your hips against him, but his grip tightens on your waist, pinning you down.

“Nuh-uh,” he murmurs, smirking. "Let me take my time with you."

You whimper, nails raking down his back as he keeps his strokes deep and slow, each thrust pulling a wrecked moan from your lips.

The buildup is agonizing—he keeps you teetering on the edge, bringing you higher and higher, dragging out every second until you're trembling, incoherent, only able to beg for more.

And then—it hits.

A sudden, sharp spike of pleasure coils in your stomach, too intense, too much, and panic seizes you.

"Ren—" Your voice is high, breathless. "Feel something—"

His thrusts don’t falter. "Yeah?" He breathes against your skin. "Give it to me, pretty girl. C’mon."

You gasp, fingers clawing at his shoulders. "Fuck—no, Eren, stop—gonna—"

Your body tenses, legs snapping shut around his waist, trying to fight it—but it’s useless.

Eren just chuckles, amused, his thumb pressing harder against your clit.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Let it out, baby."

And then—you break.

A choked sob escapes your throat as pleasure crashes over you, your body convulsing, thighs shaking, and Eren groans, throwing his head back as you squirt all over him. His hands gripping your thighs as he slows for just a second—before his lips curl into a smirk.

“Holy fuck,” he growls, voice thick with lust.

But he's not done.

Not even close.

He pulls out, flipping you onto your stomach, yanking your ass up, pushing your back into a perfect arch.

"Do that again for me," he murmurs, running his palm over your ass before delivering a sharp slap that makes you jolt.

You whimper, trying to catch your breath, but he’s already pushing back in, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust.

"Fuck—" you cry out, gripping the sheets.

Eren groans, his hands tightening on your hips, pulling you back onto his cock, setting a brutal pace.

"Goddamn," he growls. "Bet your boyfriend doesn’t know his sweet fucking girlfriend is just a slut for me, huh?"

Your breath hitches, heat flashing through you, but before you can react, another sharp slap lands on your ass, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"Probably doesn’t even know about me," Eren continues, voice taunting, mean. "Poor bastard."

Tears sting your eyes, the pleasure too much, too overwhelming.

"Eren—"

“What?” He grips your hair, yanking your head back just enough for his lips to brush against your ear. "You can take it, right? Wanna be my good girl?"

You nod frantically, whimpering, mindless. "Yes—yes, please—"

His hand slips between your legs again, fingers rubbing your clit hard and fast, too much, too soon—

You sob, body spasming again as another orgasm rips through you, your vision going white, your legs shaking as you squirt for the second time.

“C’mon,” he growls, snapping his hips harder. “Fucking cum for me again.”

You shake your head, overwhelmed. “I—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he snarls, rubbing faster. “Gimme another one.”

And you do.

Your whole body trembles as you squirt again, pleasure so intense it nearly knocks you out.

Eren groans, his thrusts turning erratic before he curses, slamming deep, spilling into the condom.

Your legs feel weak, your body trembling from the intensity of your last orgasm, but Eren isn’t giving you a break.

“C’mere,” he mutters, sitting back against the headboard, his hands gripping your waist to pull you onto his lap.

Your thighs shake as you straddle him, your hands braced against his shoulders for support. His cock, still hard and slick from fucking you, presses against your entrance, teasing, waiting.

“Go on, baby,” he murmurs, a lazy smirk curling his lips. “Ride me.”

You swallow, already breathless, but you lift your hips, reaching down to guide him to your entrance. The stretch burns all over again as you sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch, your walls struggling to accommodate his thickness.

Eren groans, his fingers digging into your hips. “Fuck,” he mutters, watching as you struggle to take him all the way.

You exhale shakily, adjusting to the stretch, planting your feet more firmly against the bed before you begin to move.

It’s harder than you expected. Your muscles are sore, your legs feel weak, and your movements are shaky as you roll your hips, trying to keep a steady pace. You try your best—bouncing on his cock, grinding down, circling your hips just the way you think he likes it—but it’s messy, your rhythm faltering as you let out little gasps, your thighs burning from the effort.

Eren watches with amusement, his smirk deepening as he lets you struggle for a while.

“Shit,” you pant, frustrated, sweat slicking your skin as you try to keep moving.

“Having trouble?” he teases, his hands coasting up your sides, his thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts.

You shake your head stubbornly, refusing to ask for help. “I can do it,” you mutter, biting your lip.

But your body betrays you. Your pace stutters again, your legs trembling, and Eren chuckles lowly, shaking his head.

“Yeah, sure,” he muses, before gripping your hips tight.

Before you can protest, he thrusts up into you. Hard.

A broken cry rips from your throat as his cock slams deep, your body jerking forward, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Eren—”

“Yeah?” he taunts, snapping his hips up again, forcing a strangled moan from your lips. “What happened, baby? Thought you had it?”

You can’t answer. Can’t do anything but hold onto him as he fucks up into you, setting a brutal, punishing pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, mixed with your desperate moans and his ragged groans.

Your head falls forward, forehead resting against his as you pant, helpless against the way he takes control.

“Feel good?” he murmurs against your lips, voice dark, teasing.

You nod weakly, barely able to think straight, your entire body shaking from the force of his thrusts.

Eren chuckles, dragging his lips along your jaw before whispering in your ear. “Yeahhh, just need me to fuck that pretty cunt right for you, hm?”

You don’t even care. You’re too lost in the pleasure, too fucking close—

And then you’re gone, your orgasm crashing through you, your walls pulsing, your entire body convulsing as you cry out his name, and he soon follows.

You're still trembling when Eren shifts, his grip firm as he pushes you onto your back. Your body is oversensitive, every nerve still buzzing from your last orgasm, but he doesn’t care.

He’s already moving, kissing a path down your body, lingering on your stomach, your hips, before settling between your legs. His breath ghosts over your drenched heat, and you shudder.

“Eren—” your voice is weak, a mix of pleasure and overstimulation.

He hums lazily, fingers sliding up your inner thighs, spreading you wider despite the way you instinctively try to close them. His lips brush over your clit, teasing, just enough to make you jolt.

You gasp, hips twitching away. “Wait, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement. “And you will.”

And then his mouth is on you.

A sharp cry leaves your lips as his tongue flicks over your clit, slow and precise, sending a fresh wave of heat through your already wrecked body. You’re still so sensitive, every touch almost too much, and you try to push him away, hands flying to his hair, his shoulders—anything to make him stop.

But Eren doesn’t budge.

His arms loop around your thighs, holding you down with a bruising grip as he eats you out like he’s starving. His tongue dips into you, slow and deep, before dragging up to circle your clit again, his lips sealing around it to suck just hard enough to make your entire body jolt.

“Fuck—” your voice breaks, your back arching off the bed as you writhe beneath him. “Eren, please—”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for. To stop? To keep going? You’re too far gone to tell the difference anymore.

He groans against you, the vibrations sending another shock of pleasure straight through your core. Your hands twist in his hair, pulling, trying to shove him away, but he just growls, tightening his grip, pushing his face even deeper between your legs.

"Stay still, baby," he mutters against your soaked cunt, his voice dark, commanding. "Take it."

You can’t. You really fucking can’t. Your body is twisting, thrashing, trying to escape the relentless pleasure, but he doesn’t give you a choice.

He flicks his tongue over your clit again, faster now, merciless, each movement dragging you closer to that unbearable edge. You sob, pleasure and desperation crashing together in a way that makes you dizzy.

“Eren—Eren, I—”

He chuckles against you, pressing a kiss to your throbbing clit before murmuring:

“C’mon, baby. Fucking give me your cum.”

And you do. You cum so fucking hard.

Your entire body seizes, your orgasm ripping through you with devastating force. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, your thighs trembling, your hands gripping him so tightly you swear you might break him.

Eren groans, licking you through every aftershock, refusing to let up until you’re nothing but a shaking, ruined mess beneath him.

Your body is still trembling, oversensitive and utterly wrecked, when Eren finally pulls away. His hands smooth over your thighs, his breath warm against your skin as he presses one last, lingering kiss between your legs.

You barely have the strength to move, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, your mind foggy with exhaustion. Everything feels heavy—your limbs, your eyelids, the slow, blissful haze settling over your body.

Eren shifts, moving up the bed, his warmth pressing against your side as he leans in, brushing damp hair from your face. The last thing you remember before your vision fades is the sound of his low chuckle, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“I’ll clean you up,” he murmurs, voice thick with something almost tender. “Take a rest.”

And then—darkness.

thank uuuu for commenting on pt 1 <333

@animewhoreswrld @mikazuai

118 notes · View notes

jaegsnicotine · 4 months ago

Text

Ocean Waves,

Sands, and

Kisses. | Eren Jaeger

NSFW

Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Summary: A trip to the beach was supposed to clear your head, not lead you to him. Eren is everything you should avoid—detached, unpredictable, incapable of commitment. But the more you push, the more he pulls, until walking away no longer feels like an option.

Warning(s): Toxic relationship dynamics, emotional push-and-pull, possessive!Eren, jealousy, ego clashes, co-dependency, intense arguments, rough sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), pet names, spanking, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial,lots of kissing, angst, Eren being emotionally unavailable at times, and heavy emotional conflicts. Mean bf Porco (forgive me madams I LOVE MA BAE PORCO I SWEAR)

A/N: gurl this shit is messed up idk why i even wrote this but lol hope someone would enjoy it. mwah mwah. part 2 coming soon bb. (yall this is my first time writing on tumblr so…JWHSKSHSKSHSJHSJS fuck)

PART 1.

The late morning sun spills through your bedroom window, casting golden streaks across the wooden floor. The air hums with the soft strums of ‘Violet’ by Daniel Caesar, the mellow tune wrapping around you like a warm embrace. You hum along as you clasp a delicate gold necklace around your neck, the tiny pendant resting just above your collarbone.

Your outfit is effortlessly put together—a brown lace-trimmed crop top with dainty tie straps, paired with an off-white ruched maxi skirt that hugs your hips before flowing down. You slide on your gold watch, fasten a bracelet around your wrist, and grab your sleek brown leather shoulder bag. A final touch—burgundy-tinted sunglasses, resting atop your head, waiting for the sun’s glare.

Satisfied, you take one last look in the mirror. You look good. You feel good. Today is just another day—a simple girls’ day out, nothing more, nothing less.

Your phone vibrates on the table.

Historia:

Where are you??

Sasha is gonna start eating the napkins.

Mikasa:

I swear if you don’t hurry your butt off

A laugh slips past your lips as you grab your bag. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” you murmur, sending a quick reply before stepping out the door.

The world outside is bright, alive. The streets hum with people—some strolling leisurely, others caught in conversation. A group of teenagers skate past, their laughter trailing behind them. The air smells like fresh pavement, the distant scent of brewed coffee from a café nearby.

You weave through the sidewalk, fingers idly scrolling through your phone as your legs move on autopilot toward the usual cafe.

And then—

Everything stops.

There, across the street.

Your steps falter, breath hitching in your throat. The world around you blurs—cars moving, people chatting, the faint hum of city life—but your focus sharpens on one thing.

Him.

Porco. Your Porco.

His arm is draped lazily around a girl’s shoulders, fingers idly playing with the strap of her top. She leans into him, laughing at something he said, her jet-black hair cascading down her back. She’s shorter than you—small enough to fit perfectly under his arm, against his side, like she belongs there. Like she was meant to be there.They walk in sync, close—too close.

Your chest tightens. A sharp, twisting sensation curls in your stomach, something ugly and raw. Your mind scrambles for a rational explanation, something that makes sense, something that doesn’t make your heart plummet straight to your feet, something that doesn’t make your fingers go numb around your phone.

It’s probably nothing. Maybe she’s just a friend. Maybe you’re misinterpreting things.

But you know better.

He doesn’t hold his friends like that. He doesn’t look at them like that.

The weight of it sinks in, heavy and suffocating.

You should go up to him. Confront him. Demand an explanation. Scream, cry, shove him away—anything but just standing here, frozen, as if the pavement beneath you has turned to quicksand.

But your legs refuse to move.

Your throat burns. The buzzing of your phone in your grip feels distant now, an afterthought. Your friends are waiting. The day is supposed to be normal, fun. You were supposed to be laughing over Ymir’s stupid inside jokes right now, not standing on the sidewalk feeling like your entire world just shifted beneath you.

You swallow hard, blinking rapidly against the stinging in your eyes.

Then, without a second thought, you turn on your heel and walk away.

—

The next day, classroom feels colder than usual.

The kind of cold that seeps into your bones, makes you feel smaller than you are. The air conditioner hums softly, blending with the low murmurs of students chatting before class starts. The fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over the room, making everything feel dull—muted.

You barely register any of it.

You don’t hear the scrape of chairs or the shuffle of feet, don’t even notice when someone approaches your desk until a familiar voice breaks through the haze.

“Hey.”

Your heart stutters.

Porco stands in front of you, looking down with that same easy expression—like everything is normal. Like yesterday never happened.

You don’t answer right away. You just stare at him, trying to piece together how he can stand there so casually, how he can meet your eyes without guilt eating him alive.

Then, without waiting for your response, he reaches for your hand. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

And you let him.

The hallways are bright, filled with the usual hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. Students move around you, but you barely notice them.

Because all you can see is him.

Porco walks in front of you, hand gripping yours loosely—like it’s nothing, like it’s just another day. Another day of him picking you up after class to take you home, just like the perfect boyfriend everyone thinks of him. But your fingers feel like they’re burning against his skin, your breath uneven as you stare at his back.

You should let go.

You should stop this before it hurts more.

But you can’t.

Because as much as you hate him right now, as much as you want to scream and cry and tear yourself away, there’s a part of you that still needs this.

A part of you that wants to sink into his warmth, to pretend—just for a little while longer—that nothing has changed.

Your throat tightens. Your nails dig into your palm.

You want to kill him.

You want to kiss him.

You want to hate him, but you can’t.

So, you just follow.

—

The engine hums low, filling the silence between you. The familiar scent of Porco’s cologne lingers in the air—woody, fresh, painfully comforting. Your fingers play with the hem of your skirt, your gaze fixed on the road ahead.

Porco taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “You’re awfully quiet today.”

You don’t respond.

He exhales, shaking his head. “C’mon, baby. Talk to me.”

Something in you snaps.

“Talk to you?” Your voice is sharp, cutting through the stillness. “About what, Porco?”

He glances at you, brow furrowing. “What’s with the attitude?”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. Just exhaustion. Just pain.

“Do you even care about how I feel?” you ask, turning to him, searching his face for something. “Or are you just pretending everything’s fine?”

“Baby,” His grip on the wheel tightens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

And that’s what breaks you.

The way he says it so easily, like yesterday never happened, like he wasn’t holding someone else, touching someone else—loving someone else.

Your vision blurs. Your chest tightens.

You bite the inside of your cheek, turning away. “Just drive, Porco.”

For once, he listens.

But deep down, some part of you hoped he didn’t, that he’d instead reassured you that whatever you’re thinking right now is wrong.

—

NEXT DAY

The moment you step onto campus, your friends lock onto you like sharks scenting blood.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Sasha drawls, crossing her arms. “Where the hell were you two days ago?”

You freeze mid-step. “What?”

Historia raises an eyebrow. “The hangout? The one you agreed to?”

Shit.

Your mind scrambles for an excuse. “Oh—uh, something came up.”

Mikasa squints. “Something?”

Annie tilts her head. “Or someone?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. You should’ve known they wouldn’t let this slide.

Historia leans forward, eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute. You never flake. Did something happen?”

You hesitate.

Then, with a sigh, you drop your bag onto the table and slump into your seat. “I think Porco’s cheating on me.”

The air shifts.

Silence stretches between you and your friends, the usual buzz of campus noise suddenly feeling distant.

Then—

“Huh?”

The synchronized reaction makes your chest tighten.

Sasha is the first to break, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean think?”

You swallow. “I saw him with someone.” The words feel heavy on your tongue. “He had his arm around her. She looked—” You take a shaky breath. “She fit into him better than I ever did.”

Another beat of silence.

“That son of a—” Sasha pushes her chair back, like she’s ready to fight.

Mikasa places a firm hand on her arm.

Historia, still staring at you, frowns. “You think he’s cheating, but you didn’t ask?”

You shake your head. “I couldn’t. I just—” Your fingers tighten into fists. “I walked away.”

Annie finally speaks up. “Wait. So… you haven’t broken up with him?”

Your lips part, but the words don’t come.

Sasha blinks. “Oh my god, you haven’t broken up with him?”

“Not yet,” you mumble.

“Not yet?” Historia repeats, exasperated. “You’re just gonna let this slide?”

“No, I just—I don’t know what to do, okay?” Frustration bubbles in your chest. “I don’t know if I want to punch him in the face or pretend like I didn’t see anything at all.”

Mikasa exhales sharply. “You need to talk to him.”

“Or dump him,” Annie deadpans.

Sasha groans, dragging a hand down her face. “No offense, but why are you even hesitating? Like, Porco? Come on. You’re too hot for this.”

You huff out a weak laugh, but it dies quickly. The weight of everything settles again.

“I just…” You trail off, shaking your head. “I need to clear my head.”

“Then let’s do something,” Historia says, suddenly perking up. “Get your mind off it.”

“Yeah,” Sasha nods. “We could go shopping. Or eat. Or…”

“The beach,” Historia suggests.

You wrinkle your nose. “Ugh, the beach?”

Immediately, all four of them stare at you like you just said you hate puppies.

“What’s wrong with the beach?” Sasha demands.

“It’s hot,” you grumble.

Historia throws her hands up. “It’s supposed to be hot! That’s the whole point.”

Mikasa raises an eyebrow. “You literally own like twenty bikinis.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like—”

“Oh my god,” Sasha groans. “You need this. You can’t just sit in your room being miserable forever.”

“You do know exams are coming up, right?” Annie points out. “You need to focus, and you can’t do that if you’re sulking over some idiot.”

She has a point. A very annoying, very logical point.

You exhale, pressing your palms against the table. “Fine. The beach.”

Sasha pumps her fist. “Yes!”

“Great,” Historia grins. “We leave tomorrow.”

Your eyes widen. “Tomorrow?”

“Yup.”

“No backing out,” Sasha says.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. Maybe this is what you need. A distraction. A way to breathe again.

“Alright,” you mutter. “Tomorrow.”

—

NEXT DAY

The drive to the beach is filled with the familiar chaos of your friends. Sasha's feet are up on the dashboard despite Mikasa’s protests, Annie busy on her phone on the backseat, and Ymir is leaned back in her seat, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, with Historia’s head resting on her shoulder. The car smells like sunscreen and the faint hint of coffee from a quick stop before heading out.

You, on the other hand, sit quietly, fingers tracing patterns on your thigh, watching the scenery blur past the window.

The closer you get to the shore, the more alive everything feels. The streets are packed with tourists in beachwear, surfboards sticking out of the backs of trucks. Street vendors sell fresh coconuts and grilled corn, and the scent of salt lingers thick in the air.

It’s overwhelming.

You’ve never liked the beach. Something about it has always felt too open, too free. Like if you let yourself go, the waves might take you with them.

But you’re here. And you’re trying.

The second you step onto the sand, your friends scatter—Mikasa, Annie, and Ymir setting up the towels, Sasha and Historia already running toward the water. You slip off your sandals, feeling the warmth of the sand beneath your feet as you drop your bag beside them.

Your swimsuit is simple—a black bikini top paired with loose, white linen pants. The ocean wind tugs at your hair, and for a brief moment, you let yourself close your eyes, inhaling the salt-kissed air.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

For a while, you just sit there, legs stretched out on your towel, watching the waves roll in. The water glistens under the afternoon sun, surfers cutting through the waves in smooth, effortless motions.

And then, before you even realize what you're doing, you stand.

You don’t think. You just move.

Your feet sink into the sand as you step forward, walking toward the water as if something is pulling you in. The ocean laps at your ankles, then your calves, cool against your sun-warmed skin.

It feels strange. Too open, too vast. You keep going anyway. Until,

“Shit.”

Your hand shoots up to your chest, your fingers feeling nothing but bare skin. Your ring. It was there just a second ago.

You whirl around, scanning the water, your heart hammering. “No, no, no…”

The waves keep moving, uncaring, indifferent to your panic. Your breathing picks up, hands digging through the water like you can somehow catch it before it disappears forever.

You shouldn’t care. It’s just a stupid ring. A stupid ring from a relationship that’s already dead. But your chest tightens anyway.

"Shit, shit, shit—"

“You lost something?”

The voice comes out of nowhere.

You freeze.

When you turn, he’s standing a few feet away, his deep blue surfboard tucked under one arm, his body still glistening from the ocean. He’s shirtless, broad shoulders tapering down to a lean waist, swim shorts hanging low on his hips. His hair is damp, tied in a manbun, some strands falling over sharp green eyes—watching you, unreadable.

You stare at him for a second too long before blinking rapidly. “Uh—yeah. My ring. It just—it just slipped off.”

He doesn’t ask why you’re freaking out over a ring. He just watches you for a beat, then exhales through his nose. “Stay here.”

And before you can process that, he’s already diving into the water.

You stand frozen, watching as he disappears beneath the waves. The ocean moves around him like it knows him, like it bends to him. Seconds stretch into a full minute, then another—until finally, he resurfaces, dark hair slicked back, water dripping down his face.

And between his fingers—

Your ring.

Your breath stutters as he walks toward you, hand outstretched.

“You should probably get this resized,” he says, his voice calm, almost indifferent.

You stare at the ring, then at him. He’s close now—close enough that you can see the silver chain around his neck, the key pendant resting against his collarbone.

Your fingers brush his as you take it back. “Thanks,” you murmur.

He just nods, eyes flickering over your face for half a second before he steps back. Then—

“Can you surf?”

You blink. “Huh?”

He stays quiet for some seconds, just staring at you with that unreadable expression of his before asking again. “Can you surf?”

Your lips part open with no words coming out for a while before you close it again hurriedly. “Oh- no, never.”

A beat of silence. The air between you is thick, charged with something you can’t quite name. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asks, “You wanna try?”

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jaegsnicotine · 4 months ago

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mama posted and she ATE i fear🕺🏻🕺🏻🕺🏻🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️ ugh u are talented af i’m literally burning up just reading this DUEHSHEJKABSKSHSJSJSJJS I LOVE THIS I LOVE UUUU

fury | e.yeager

eren yeager x fem!reader

!!: SMUT, vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), pet names like (bitch, whore, slut, princess, baby), degradation, humiliation, orgasm denial, slight reader x jean kirstein, eren’s so fucking mean (sorry not sorry), making each other jealous, rough sex, dirty talk, jealous eren RAAAAWR.

Eren didn’t even need to say anything and yet you knew he was fucking pissed.

You almost stopped what you were doing due to his intense stare from half-way across the busy room—but, you held out. Knowing this whole debacle had a high risk, yet high reward. If it worked in your favour, that is.

You were currently situated in the sweaty, loud house party your friend had thrown—tipsy as fuck and feeling disgustingly cheeky. Your cheeks were flushed red as you pushed your bottom half back against the male behind you. You knew your boyfriend was watching you mindlessly dance with your ex-boyfriend, Jean Kirstein, who you knew Eren despised.

You were only grinding against the tall, mullet-headed male to piss your boyfriend off for starting a meaningless fight in the car before the party. You were petty, Eren knew this, but he never knew you’d take it this far.

Jean’s hands rest against your liquid hips as you swayed deliciously to the beat, your body on fire as Eren bore holes into Jean’s hands against your soft skin.

“Someone doesn’t look to happy you’re with me, huh?”

Jean’s voice snapped your attention away from Eren’s dark, hooded eyes to his familiar voice. You knew exactly what he meant as you swallowed thickly.

“He can sulk all he wants, I don’t care.” You lied—knowing you did care what he thought as you wouldn’t be with Jean if you didn’t.

Jean chuckles breathily as he runs his hands up to your waist and back down again, choosing to not reply as you continue to dance with him.

You knew you had gotten to Eren but until he approached you, you weren’t gonna stop. However, you knew Eren was stubborn as shit, so if it took you all night to make him give in, then so be it.

“Looks like the score board is one nil now.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you follow Jean’s eyes as he laughs evilly, watching something intently. However, your stomach drops when your eyes fall upon Jean’s entertainment.

Eren, leaning up against the wall, not bothering to watch your childish acts any longer, standing infuriatingly close to a girl whom he smirked down at as she whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

You could kill him.

Eren only turned back to you as the girl littered kisses against his tattooed neck, smirking like a fucking asshole at you.

Jean laughs lightly against your ear, whispering delicately into it, “Well, now that our audience is back, let’s put on a show, hm?”

Jean half expected you to just continue dancing with him to piss Eren off further, but you knew that wouldn’t faze him anymore.

So, when you turned around to face your ex-boyfriend and pulled his neck down to smush your lips together in a feverish kiss—both boys were taken aback. Eren twitched angrily as he shoved the girl nibbling at his neck off him, huffing loudly in rage as he watched you shove your tongue down your exes throat.

Before you could even get a proper taste of Jean, you were ripped away from the kiss and dragged through the bustling crowd. You could’ve laughed at the sheer grip Eren had around your wrist as he dragged you through the house and into a deserted room, slamming the door behind him.

“You think you’re fucking funny, huh?” He spat, the angriest you’d ever seen him in your life. “Think you’re fucking cute?”

“N-no, Eren—“

His body flew to yours in lightning speed as he pushed your body against the wall, hands forcing your own against the cold brick, gripping them in place roughly.

“Had an awful lot to say earlier, didn’t you? Where’s that fucking bitch attitude gone? Jean kissed it all out of you?” He growled, his dark gaze glaring down at you.

Words failed at you as your jaw fell slack at the sheer fury that laced his words, his voice low and indignant due to your actions. Your heart rate picked up so fast you thought you were going to go into cardiac arrest at the thought of what he was gonna do to you.

“Speak, bitch.”

His words stung as you whimpered slightly, “I-I’m sorry, baby, I swear.” The sweet nickname you slipped in doing nothing but pissing him off further.

“No, you’re fucking not,” He snapped, slamming his fist next to your head, his anger sending shockwaves of excitement to your core, “God, when did I get with such a fucking whore?”

The disgustingly degrading nickname should’ve offended you, but, your pearly white teeth couldn’t help but sink down into your pink lips as you rubbed your legs together to get some sort of sweet relief.

Eren noticed your antics, pushing his knee between your leg, forcing you to stop. This only ripped a needy whine from your throat which you instantly regretted as you met his eyes.

Uh, oh.

He dragged you from the wall and pushed you roughly onto the plush of the bed, as he ripped his t-shirt from his body, then slotted himself between your spread legs.

“You fucking disgust me,” He spat, his hands coming down to attack your breasts in your dress, tugging at your nipples roughly as you whined. “You’re nothing but a fucking slut—good only for making me cum and whoring around, aren’t you?”

His hands ripped at your clothes like his life depended on it—tossing them aside as he stared menacingly down at your naked frame. He wasted no time in undoing his belt and pushing his jeans to the floor.

“Get on your knees.”

You practically threw yourself to the floor as you kneeled in front of him, staring up at him through your lashes as he glared down at you, nothing but anger and disgust in his expression as he pulled his achingly hard cock from his boxers. His tip dribbled pre-cum as it bobbed in front of your face.

Eren didn’t ask your permission, not that he needed to, before forcing your mouth open and shoving all eight inches down your throat. You gagged and spluttered around him as the abruptness of his actions took you by surprise. Tears welled up in your eyes as he didn’t stop to let you adjust to his size, only continuing to slide his heavy cock across your tongue.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” He growled, his hand nestled in your hair, pulling at the hair so hard you thought he’d tugged some out as you whined against him. “Don’t resist me, baby, you know this is what you deserve.”

Your nails clawed at his thighs as he thrust his hips feverishly against your mouth, balls slapping your chin as his pace never faltered. Tears fell quickly down your flushed cheeks as he abused your throat, putting your gag reflex to use as his tip smacked against your uvula.

“Eren, please!” You begged, as he pulled you off him briefly as you caught your breath, spit and tears covering your face as you heaved for breath.

“What? You think I’d fuck you nice and slowly after your behaviour earlier? I’m not Jean, the weak, vanilla piece of shit.” He spat, laughing darkly, “You wanna act like a slut, you get treated like one.”

He forced you back down onto his cock with a loud, gargled whine from you as fucked himself faster down your throat. He grunted lowly in pleasure as he planted a harsh slap to your cheek, forcing more tears from your eyes.

“Fuck, gonna make me cum down that stupid fucking throat if you carry on gaggin’ on me like that.”

You absentmindedly rubbed your thighs together, moaning on him as you provided yourself some sort of action as he fucked your throat mercilessly.

Eren didn’t like that.

He kicked your knees apart angrily, “Don’t you fucking dare.” He snarled, pulling his cock from your mouth as you whined desperately.

Eren dragged you up to your feet by your hair, shoving you back on the bed harshly as he followed you. You barely had time to think about what was going on before he forced your legs apart and planted his hot tongue against your sex.

You cried out, your hand flying to his messy bun, threading your fingers through his hair as he sucked your clit frenetically, groaning against your pussy. The rumble of his moans against your throbbing clit had you climbing towards your orgasm quicker than expected.

“Can’t even let me cum because you just want to yourself, you selfish bitch.” Eren snapped, pulling his mouth from your hot core, spitting on your pussy lewdly, and planting a rough slap to your aching clit, eliciting a loud, scratchy whine from your abused throat.

“Eren, please!” You cried as you felt him slip two long fingers inside your soaking wet hole, back arching off the bed as he pumped his fingers in and out of you as he lapped at your clit. Goddamn did that man know how to please you.

“‘M gonna cum!” You wailed, eyes squeezing shut as you could nearly taste your orgasm, Eren continuing to suck your clit like a thirsty man in the desert.

Just as your coil almost snapped in your tummy, your pussy felt awfully empty as Eren ripped his mouth and fingers from you just as you were about to cum. You didn’t even hide your annoyance as you burst into tears, wailing loudly as your pleasure faded away as he ripped it from you.

“E-Eren, please! Please—hiccup, please I need it. I’m so sorry, Rennie, please, please make me cum, please!” You begged, hands flailing at him, attempting to pull his stiff body down towards you as you sobbed into his shoulder, gripping onto his shoulders, nails piercing the skin.

“Jesus Christ, you’re pathetic.” Eren breathed evilly, shoving you off him, your body bouncing off the bed, your tits jiggling with every movement that had Eren’s cock twitching. “You don’t fucking deserve it, okay? I gotta punish you somehow, hm? You did this to yourself.”

“B-But, that girl!” You fought back, feeling anger bubbling in your chest as the reality of the situation hit you, “Wasn’t just me.”

“She came up to me—you willing went out of your way to find that asshole and stick your slutty tongue down his throat.” Eren bit back, pushing your legs up, folding you in half.

He leant down to spit on your pussy once more, catching some of the slick on his cock as he nudged your entrance, jerking the lubricant over his aching boner. You whined loudly as he pushed his tip inside you, knowing the second he prodded the sweet spot inside you, you’d soon build your orgasm back up again.

“If you so much as even think about cumming, I’ll stop and never fuck you again, and I fucking mean it.”

His threat played with your heart strings—feeling awfully sorry for yourself as you threw your head back in irritation, crying out loudly. Eren’s hand flew to your neck as he pushed himself fully inside you, again, not letting you adjust to his length, revelling in the way you wailed in wanton at his size.

Eren’s pace was evil.

You’d never been fucked like this before. Your legs practically behind your head, his large hand choking your neck, cutting off your airflow, and his cock drilling into you at such a speed you thought you were going to pass out.

You tried not to enjoy the way he was treating you—but, you secretly had never been more turned on in your entire life. Your pussy wetter than it’d ever been, evidently as Eren was cursing himself mentally at how incredible you felt—but, he wasn’t about to praise you right now.

“‘Ren, p-please!” You gasped out, nails carving up his back as he fucked you up, revelling in the way you whined his nickname loudly every time.

“Gonna cum so fuckin’ hard.” He warned you, his voice hoarse as his eyes rolled back, “Open your fucking mouth.”

You did as he asked as his pace quickened as he chased his orgasm, groaning and grunting against your leg. He pulled out quickly and forced his dick down your throat once more, crying out in pleasure as he lolled his head back.

Jean furrowed his eyebrows as he felt two tiny fingers tap his shoulder, ordering him to turn around.

He felt even more confused at the sight of you in front of him—eyes red and tired, cheeks stayed in tears with a red handprint on display on one, hair a total mess and your neck littered in bruises and another large handprint around the circumference of the front of your neck. Behind you, resided your smug boyfriend, smirking blissfully at your ex-boyfriend.

“What the fuck is this, Yeager?” Jean spat, feeling suddenly a bit threatened by the presence of your boyfriend.

“Open up, princess.”

Eren’s words confused Jean as he looked down at you. But, they soon made sense as you lolled your tongue out for Jean to see, secretly loving the way his jaw fell slack at the pool of cum resting on the pink muscle.

Jean’s eyes shot open in shock as he watched as you peered up at him so innocently as some of Eren’s cum rolled off your tongue and onto the floor.

“Wanna kiss my girlfriend again, Kirstein?”

this is for you @jaegsnicotine 🤗

#eren smut #oh fuck yes #pls fxck me d4ddy #sorry for being depressing

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