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batterygarden · 1 year

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step-cest w eren (F! reader) 18+ MDNI

cw: Very Submissive reader, taboo dynamics obvs, modern au, misogyny kink, sliiiiight dub con, size kink, back shots, cream pie, don't mind my kink for med students becoming more apparent each day, wk ab 1.9k

Little step-bro Eren, who you’re only a year older than, but who somehow you’ve always managed to take care of more than anyone else. He loves his sweet big sister—and he worries about you too, trying to make your life easier in little ways he can… till he’s horny.

Till he wakes up in the middle of the night when you’re both staying at your parent’s house with a hard cock and a bad attitude, and sees your door cracked open across the hall. Till he finds you sprawled across bed in an old nightgown from highschool… it seems a lot smaller on you now than it was then.

He doesn’t hesitate before he’s quietly stepping in, closing your door and locking it, mentally chiding you for failing to do that to begin with. Then he’s crawling onto your creaky mattress. It’s loud like he remembers—waking you immediately, but you don’t comment on his presence. You’re not surprised to find him here, waking you to slide his hands over your waist and bury his face in your chest—part of you somehow expects it every time you visit. Like Eren is a permanent fixture in your childhood bedroom—appearing invariably to hold you each night that you sleep here.

“Your hands are cold, Rennie,” you eventually whisper.

“Wish you’d stop calling me that.”

You can’t see his face but you know he’s rolling his eyes at the old nickname, before huffing and nuzzling into your cleavage, holding you tight like a stress toy and breathing in your comforting scent. It reminds you of when you were kids.

Back when he was still shorter than you and much less entitled, when he relied on you for everything. Because Eren was always busy being the family favorite, being encouraged to meet his potential, and you were always busy being there for him. Not that you could complain, it was hard not to love Eren, even if you were always a little jealous of him. Jealous of how smart he was, how praised he was, how you could never understand his conversations with your step-dad about politics and important stuff and you weren’t expected to—you were only ever asked to cook and clean and look pretty doing it.

You’ve grown out of any bitterness by now though. Now that Eren’s studying to go into the medical field and you’ve finally waited enough tables to afford culinary school, you figure there are certain roles people are born to play.

Yours is underneath him.

“Ngh Eren..” your voice is breathy as you whine his name, combing tired fingers through his soft locks while his lips drag across your skin. You wonder if he’s even slept at all tonight—he seems wide awake as he tugs your nightgown up, gathering the fabric above your tits for easier access. He’s about to dip his head back down the moment your nipples are exposed but he pauses, pinching the worn out fabric of your nightgown and flicking accusatory eyes up to your own.

“This is kinda short on you now huh? Hope you’re not wearing it in front of anyone else.”

You blink at him patiently.

“Where would I possibly go in this, ‘Ren? I leave it here for when I visit.”

“So you’re wearing it around my father?”

“No! It’s just something comfy for sleeping. You’re being ridiculous.”

He huffs but smiles, liking the way your voice stays soft when you correct him. Sweet. He loves his sweet pushover of a sister so much. So much he can’t help but wanna break you.

So he’s harsh when he brings his mouth back to your skin—kissing, almost biting his way to your nipples, leaving a wet trail of bruises that has your brows knitting together. When he swirls his tongue around a nipple he almost whimpers at the gentle touch of your fingers in his hair, raking it away from his face and twisting it behind his head the way he likes. The way you keep your fingers delicate, so careful not to pull his hair only makes him want to be rougher—he wants to be the contrast to everything you do. Your calm brings out his aggression—and soon he’s abandoning your soft tits to flip you over, feeling a rush when you let him easily—complying and conforming to his needs like it’s second nature. You don’t like the way he flipped you though—he didn’t even give you a warning! But you’re conditioned to be careful when you chastise him—Eren’s spoiled and dramatic and his attitude’s only gotten worse through the years—so your voice sounds like an angel when you look back at him and frown.

“Be careful with me, ‘Ren. Please.”

He answers with a hard squeeze of your hips that has your breath hitching and a thumb in the waistband of your panties, his voice every bit as saintly as your own when he murmurs a little sorry.

His voice—all sugary and innocent like that reminds you of a memory, back when you both still lived at home and eren used the same tone on your mother when she caught him sneaking a girl over on a weekday. He’d given you these big pleading eyes right before she talked to him and gotten you to cover for him. You had easily, despite how unfair it was that no one had covered for you when you were grounded a month for the same thing one year prior. You swear, that stupid voice could carry Eren anywhere—out of any situation. Into your panties for one. It would earn him forgiveness at the pearly gates, you’re certain.

When he pulls your underwear down and guides you onto all fours, you’re not sure your contemplation brings you more envy or self-loathing or both. Of course it’s all forgotten when he brings his tip to your folds, and you remember how stretched you’re about to become.

“Slow, please,” you murmur, your voice a whisper like butterfly wings. He chuckles and squeezes your hips again, and you close your eyes before he thrusts half way inside you in one go. The push knocks your arms out from under you, smushing your face into your mattress with a gasp—it would have knocked your legs down too, had he not been holding your hips stationary. And it stings—it feels like he’s splitting you in half—which is the same as always, but you’d asked him to go slow. So you turn your neck back to glare at him, furrowing your brows while you grip onto the sheets, but that look only spurs him on—he’s morbidly curious what you’ll do if he keeps pushing you. It has him thrusting all the way inside in one more movement.

You can’t even hold his eyes to reprimand him. You’re too busy working to catch the breath that was knocked out of your lungs, closing your eyes so tight your vision litters with tiny dots.

Eren’s merciful enough not to move till you’re breathing again, but as soon as you’ve collected yourself enough to scold him for his harsh treatment, he pulls out almost all the way before you can say a word. You’re left with a hollow feeling that makes you whine, longing for his cock in a pitiful way that clears your head of any complaints you held a moment ago. But he pauses there.

“Ren, please...” you try to wiggle back towards him, anything to return the lost feeling there, but he doesn’t budge. Instead he watches you as a cruel smile grows on his face, deciding he’d prefer your explicit permission before he has his way with you.

“What is it, princess? Please what?”

You groan. “‘at’s childish of you ‘Ren…”

“Just want you to be more specific!” He says with his annoyingly virtuous tone, his thumbs rubbing little circles over your ass.

You try to thrust yourself back but he holds your hips in place—you miss when he wasn’t so strong. You’re left no choice but to give up your brief fit of pride and dignity.

“Please… please fuck me ‘Ren. Need your cock.”

He chuckles out of his nose, giving you a sarcastic ohhh before driving forward and setting a ruthless pace—at least you couldn’t complain when you asked for it.You’re quickly fisting whatever you can reach as a lifeline, biting whatever pillows or sheets lie below you—you can hardly distinguish your surroundings. The world around you is dark and fuzzy in an instant, all you can focus on is the hammering of Eren’s dick against your cervix again and again, so deep you feel it in your chest. You don’t even notice the harsh palm to your back, arching you into what should be an uncomfortable position, nor the sound of the mattress and Eren’s panting getting louder (loud enough your parents could possibly hear all the way in their room upstairs). The sound you do recognize is the slapping—echoing in your ears each thrust as Eren’s balls hit your clit, each slap seems to bounce in your skull on a loop, layering in volume.

Soon you’re on the edge of orgasm without recollection of how you got here or how much time’s passed, only finding your voice to whine your brother’s name.

“Erenn. Coming.”

His breath hitches at the words, feeling how you’re starting to tighten around him.

“Let it go, princess—hah—come on me.”

You already are by the time he finishes his sentence, twitching and moaning around him, making the slapping sound wetter.

He doesn’t take long before he’s right behind you, finally painting the inside of his big sister white like he’d wanted to.

After he empties the last of his cum deep inside you, he finally releases his vice grip on your hips and your legs instantly turn to jelly beneath you. You collapse forward, unable to move a muscle to even look at Eren while he mops up the sticky mess of your thighs—unaware he’s using your old nightgown.

He crawls up to hold you close for a minute then, his arm around you while he watches your dazed face, listening to make sure your breathing evens out. He traces your features while he waits, playing with your hair a little, even your fingers. He thinks it’s funny how long you take to recover from a good fuck, but he figures now’s not the time to tease you on it.

When your breaths finally do become more normal, and your eyes open to find his face in front of you, you raise your eyebrows not unkindly as if to say well? What are you still doing here?, a gentle smile on your face.

His expression morphs into a mischievous one, before he pinches your ass.

“Hey!” You swat at his hand, covering yourself in the bedsheets.

“What’d you do that for!”

He’s already standing by your door with his sweatpants pulled on, not even facing you.

“G’night.” He steps out without another word, closing your door behind him.

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