Im Always Going To Send U Reqs Because I Love You. Anyways. Kyojuro And His Wife Going To A Dinner Together,

i’m always going to send u reqs because i love you. anyways. kyojuro and his wife going to a dinner together, surprising the hashira that the man can ACTUALLY pull a hot one, and as compensation:

he look kiyoot here my husband ☺️

newly weds

warnings » alcohol, mentionings of getting drunk

word count » 1.1k

categories » f/m, f/f, multi, m/m

relationships » kyoujurou renguko x f!reader

characters » all of the hashira, tengen's wives, kagaya ubuyakashi

author’s note » for u <3

It was rare when the Hashira all had dinner together but when they did it was usually at festivals or whenever Oyakata-sama had wanted. And the Hashira never denied a request from him. Hashira were welcome to bring companions, wives, husbands, and/or family to these gatherings so usually Tengen would bring his wives and Shinobu would bring her girls to enjoy the food that had been prepared for them. This time though, Kyoujurou, wanted to bring his wife, [name], who he had secretly married some weeks ago. They were enjoying their time as newly weds, but Kyoujurou had decided it was time to drop the bomb on them. He didn't want to do it out of shock factor per say, but he wanted everyone to know he was taken by a beautiful woman and to show her off as much as he could.

They walked hand in hand to the Butterfly Mansion where the dinner was being held. [Name] had felt like her heart was in her stomach and Kyoujurou had sensed this.

"It'll be okay, my darling. They will love you. I swear it." He murmured before kissing her on the cheek. She shyly smiled at him as she felt him squeeze her hand. She only nodded as they proceed down the path.

"Caw! Caw! Kyoujurou and his wife have entered the garden! Caw! Caw! Kyoujurou and his wife have entered the garden!" A crow that seemed to squaw out of nowhere at all the gathered Hashira.

Everyone seemed to be in disarray at the mentioning of Kyoujurou having a wife and even more so that he hadn't told anyone as they spit out their drinks.

"Wife?!" Tengen exclaimed getting up from his seat as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

"Since when?!" Sanemi joined in on the hysteria.

"Ooo!! I wanna meet her!!" Mitsuri cheered getting giddy at the mentioning.

Giyuu could only sit there in bewilderment not even knowing how to react. Shinobu scoffed and then laughed. "That Rengoku. He is always pulling a fast one on us."

"How much do you wanna bet that she's pregnant?" Obanai inquired.

"I say 2000 yen." Oyakata-sama puts down the currency on the table.

Everyone grew silent at his sudden mischief. A small innocent smile on his face as he sat there with his hands on lap. Tengen cracked a huge grin.

"Ohohoho, I say 3000 yen." Tengen put down his money on top of Oyakata-sama's.

"Tengen!" His wives scold him to which Tengen only laughed.

"Hmm, I say 3000 she's not pregnant." Shinobu added to the pile. Muichiro ears perk up at Shinobu inserting herself.

He raised his hand. "I second that."

"Oh, yeah?" Tengen smirked at her questioningly. "Than I'll double it. 6000 yen."

"Oh, you are so on."

"Hey, I never agreed to that..." Muichiro voice seemed to lose momentum as Kyoujurou and [name] entered the room.

Gasps were heard from everyone. [Name] had looked so beautiful and ethereal that the Hashira had no idea how to react. They grew quiet as they watch as she gracefully entered the room and bowed at them.

"Hello, it is an honor to meet you all."

"Thank you for gracing us with your presence, [Name], Kyoujurou. Please sit and make yourselves comfortable.

Now, the Hashira were looking at Oyakata-sama with wide eyes.

"You knew?!" Tengen looked betrayed at he glared at the man in question. Oyakata-sama simply laughed at him.

"Yes, I'm sorry--" He chuckled covering his mouth with his hand. "I wish I could see the looks on your faces."

"Ah, Oyakata-sama..." Shinobu relaxed into a laugh and everyone followed suit.

"So, you're not pregnant?" Obanai interjected. Everyone scolded him as he sat their unbothered waiting on Kyoujurou and [name] to answer. [Name] became visibly uncomfortable, but Kyoujurou only laughed heartily out of embarrassment. His cheeks tinged a healthy pink as he wrapped his arms around her.

"No, not yet! We would plan that, of course! Sorry, for not telling you all until now. We wanted to tell you at the perfect time." Kyoujurou said cheerfully as he put a hand on [name's] lap.

Tengen's face relaxed as gently shook Kyoujurou's shoulder and pulled him into a hug. "Well, I'm very happy for you. You picked a real looker."

"I agree! You're very stunning [name]!" Mitsuri agreed smiling at [name]. She was secretly a little upset that Kyoujurou had kept it a secret from her, but her happiness for him overshadowed that. She just wanted to be happy for her friend.

"Yes, [name], you are very beautiful. Your kimono suits you very much. Red is definitely your color." Shinobu touched the small on her back and Tengen's wives audibly agree with her making [name] blush at their compliments.

"T-thank you. You all are too kind." [Name] waved them off as if trying to brush off her agitation. She wasn't so used to others giving her so much attention.

"That's one the reasons I married her." Kyoujurou mused, looking at her lovingly. She flustered under his gaze and giggled nervously.

"Congratulations, Renguko." Giyuu gave him a small smile.

"Are you smiling?!" Shinobu nearly shrieked at him and the Pillars were now oogling Giyuu's softened expression which automatically contorted into humiliation. Mitsuri cannot help but burst out into laughter and it made the silent room fill with mirth.

"Yes, congratulations, Rengoku." Sanemi got up and sat beside him as he bowed his head slightly in respect to him.

"Thank you, Sanemi! That means a great deal from you!" He laughed smacking his back rather hard causing Sanemi to jump at the sheer unintentional force Kyoujurou had just applied.

Tengen laughed as he smacked Kyoujurou on the back just as hard making him jolt.[Name] jumped at his actions and stared at the pair. "You're just full of surprises aren't you, Renguko!"

Kyoujurou shook off the shock and began to laugh with Tengen. "I guess I am!"

"Freaks..." Sanemi muttered under his breath.

"You're not wrong about that." Obanai agreed as he petted Kabamaru.

"We're all happy for you. Let's make a toast to the newly weds." Oyakata-sama raised his soju glass. Every one raised their glasses along with him. "Gokekkon omedetou gozaimasu!"* (congratulations for having just married*)

"Gokekkon omedetou gozaimasu!" The lot cheered in unison and then downed their glasses.

"Maybe you shouldn't drink too much, dear." [Name] puts a loving hand on top of his.

"Don't worry, my love. I can handle my liquor." He smiled and [Name] quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Oh? Well, then I'll take your word for that." She sipped at her water and then playfully narrowed her eyes at him. "For now."

Kyoujurou did not in fact handle his liquor. And Tengen and Giyuu spent thirty minutes just trying to handle the messy drunk as [Name] sighed and smiled at him as he kept squirming out of their grip.

Tengen face palmed as Kyoujurou laid limp in his arms.

"This is why we can't have nice things."

Starved (Sanji x GN!reader)

🍴CW: angst (with a happy ending of course 😌), swearing.

🍴Brief description: after several days spent unconscious in the infirmary, reader sneaks into the kitchen where they get caught by Sanji who has waited for them to finally wake up.

(with honorable appearances of the other strawhats ✌️ didn't plan to include anything like that?..it just happened?...and I ended up liking it A LOT ahdshgajd)

Just in case: longer parts of text fully in italics like that signal flashbacks!

Enjoy!

The light flickered on.

Shit. Maybe you still had a second or two to flee before the lamp’s unsteady twinkle would turn into a blinding beam. 

There was nowhere to flee, though, with the kitchen’s exit now apparently blocked with someone roused, just like you, by nightly hunger.

Or so you hoped. You really hoped it was that. Otherwise-

The flicker steadied into a dim, orange shine of a lamp in the need of change. The fridge, the door of which you were currently holding onto with a white-knuckled, scared grip, beeped softly, signalling for you to either finally take something or leave, but not before remembering to close it.

You froze. Whoever was behind you did the same.

Shit.

It definitely wasn’t Luffy (too quiet, and for way too long), definitely wasn’t Usopp (night duty), definitely wasn’t Zoro (you would’ve already heard the confused ‘huh?’). Definitely not Nami or Chopper (they would’ve already thrown a fit, though with varying volume and apparency of worry present in their voices).

So. 

You turned around, painfully slowly. Literally painfully, your bruised ribs seemed to creak just as loud as your neck.

Sanji stood rigidly still in the doorframe with his hand on the light switch. A cigarette hung from his mouth, still burning, a single soft sigh away from falling tip-down onto the floor. Some of the ash dropped, impatient for a helping hand.

Sanji made no move. Didn’t voice any of the thousands of things flashing through his mind. His brows went up and down, again up and down again, as if fighting the shock.

It was unnerving to watch. Unsettling. Unusual.

“Uh,” your voice, hoarse from disuse, scraped on the silence, just as crudely abrupt as the lights above. “Hello. Sorry, uh, I’m- I just-”

That seemed to bring Sanji back into motion, though the starved rumbling of your stomach stiffened him again into immobility.

God. Honestly, what the hell even..

You were hungry, so hungry. Starved. First unconscious, then half-conscious but unable to consume even a tiny crumb. And now, when you finally felt alive-

“I-

“Would you like to eat?”

Huh? 

“What?” this time it was you turned immobile.

“Would you like something to eat?” Sanji repeated. His hand, previously on the light switch, moved to push the cigarette further back into his mouth.

He stepped fully into the room, detached gaze on you. Too detached for the trembling hands in his pockets.

“I,” you glanced into the creak of the fridge door where barely anything at all could be distinguished. “Yeah. Yeah, a bit. Sorry, didn’t want to intrude like that.”

And you didn’t. You really didn’t. You just couldn’t hold any longer.

You hand’t eaten for days.

Sanji nodded, his hands slipping from his pockets to roll up his sleeves.

“Allow me to serve you some late dinner, then.”

“I could just grab something really quick myself, though, I wouldn’t want to-”

“Just let me,” the look he gave you from under his hair cut you short.

Just how exposed, how vulnerable it was.

“I waited so long to do this. Please, let me. ”

You stepped away, giving him space, moving backwards, almost falling into the chair. Your stomach rumbled again.

“Please, eat this, at least. It’s just a slice of bread, very-very thin, you won’t even feel it!” Chopper pleaded with you for the tenth, twentieth, maybe hundredth time, even. You turned away to face the wall, half-lucid but still flinching at the tiny doctor’s poorly contained sobs. Someone clicked their tongue behind the door. 

You wished you could eat. Just that slice of bread. Or an orange from the basket Nami had left on the nightstand before you even came to your senses. Or that weird sweet Usopp got in some equally weird shop from the latest town you visited. You wished you could just eat. 

“…thanks.”

“No problem.”

Sanji reached into the fridge to grab a few plates, carefully sealed with food wrap. Put them on the counter, removing it from each one. Your brows went up.

“We have leftovers?”

Sanji’s hands on the wrap stilled. He turned to look at you like he’d never done before. Careful. Bewildered. Immeasurably sad.

“You could never and would never give you leftovers,” he vowed, desperate for you to hear him loud and clear. “Ever.”

You felt sorry, so sorry because you still didn’t understand.

“Extras?”

“No,” he scrunched the wrap in his fist and threw it away; took out a pan, turned on the stove, put the content of  plate into it to re-warm them, even though you now had a microwave, too, from the latest town you visited. Usopp told you. At least you believe it was him, real him and not a dream or hallucination.

“It's the microwave the Gol D. Roger himself used! ” Usopp declared first with his chest puffed out, then deflated slightly from uncertainty after a moment. “At least the shopkeep told me so. But he seemed reliable, so there is no way it was made up! And it was pretty pricey, too, so there’s just no way it couldn’t be Rogers! ”

You didn’t answer, giving him the opportunity to carry on; you couldn’t have even if there was something to add or interject with. Just like you couldn’t eat. You were half-present, half-conscious. 

To yourself. To them you were half-dead.

Sanji nudged the pan up. The contents — rice, some shrimps, some greens — flew up and landed back.

“These are yours. Your portions,” he explained. “I made them this evening.”

”We had amaaazing fish today!“ Luffy threw his hands up, wildly swinging back and forth in his seat. “That weird one Sanji got from the market. He almost fought someone for it! It’s not as delicious as meat, of course, but I understand why he was about to kick some guy to have it! If you wake up now, or next morning, there’ll still be some left maybe. But I can’t promise, it’s just sooo tasty! So you need to wake up as fast as possible! It’s some rare fish we won’t find in this sea, at least Sanji said so.”

You didn’t wake up. You didn’t even hear him. You were too deeply out. Chopper made Luffy leave. There was still that fish left for you in the morning.

There really was no fish like that in the sea you were currently crossing. Sanji wished it'd been All Blue, so he could catch a dozen for you to try after.

“Every day I prayed you would wake up,” the cook put the dish back into the plate and started re-warming the second one. “I prayed you would, and you didn‘t.But what if one of these days you suddenly were? How could I possibly leave you starved? I wouldn’t deserve to be your cook if I would let something like this happen.”

You hunched your shoulders, flinching from the shock of pain going through you. You hoped Chopper was fast asleep; you weren’t supposed to get up yet.

“Sorry I didn’t wake up earlier.”

“Thank you for waking up today.”

Sanji placed the plates on the table, sat down across from you, put out his cigarette before lighting a new one right after.

You didn’t even thank him for the meal, viciously sinking your teeth into the food, not registering the taste at all in such a hurry for satiation. 

You didn’t notice Sanji’s gaze never leaving your face, a disturbingly distant look taking over his eyes.

“The hell are you doing here?”

“Napping.”

“Didn’t know you napped with your eyes open. That a swordsman thing? So you could see your foes sneaking on you from under an infirmary bed?”

“Piss off.”

Sanji leaned on the doorframe, taking a cigarette out of his mouth to hide it behind his back. His other hand held a plate with freshly made food.

“Asleep still?”

“Yeah.”

Sanji exhaled, tapping the ash off automatically without putting much thought into the action. He wasn’t going to make another drag until he left the room. 

Zoro tipped his head. Not turning, his eyes still on your motionless form. Just like Sanji‘s. 

“There‘s no room for any more food here. I‘ll come up when there‘s need for it.”

“There’s a great chance you‘ll get lost on your way, so I‘d rather come by and check myself. ”

“Piss off. ”

“You used that already.”

“Eloquence isn‘t my priority right now,“ Zoro snapped without heat, raising a bottle of booze Sanji didn’t notice from behind his hulking, sulking form.

“I‘m surprised you know the word for it. ”

”Fuck off,“ Zoro threw over his shoulder, chugging half of the bottle‘s contents in one go. 

Sanji left, wishing the same had happened with the food he’d made for you.

You stopped short when you realised you were scrapping of leftovers off the plate. 

You gingerly lifted your eyes to find Sanji staring right back at you. Now that was just embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you murmured, wiping your mouth with a sleeve, gently pushing the plate away. “That wasn‘t very proper of me.”

“Are you still hungry?” the cook asked. The fog of thoughts barely lifted from his eyes.

You swallowed. It wouldn‘t hurt, right? You couldn‘t probably embarrass yourself more.

“A bit,” you admitted, doing everything in your power to keep looking at him. Reaching into his mind. Asking him if it was still alright.

Sanji‘s seat scraped across the floor. He got up, turned around, pushed it back with his leg.

“Wait, please. I will make something ready in a minute.”

“Sanji-kun?”

“Yes, Nami-san, my dearest?”

The redhead slipped a piece of paper across the counter. Sanji, currently preoccupied with making dinner, couldn‘t yet give it his full attention.

“What is this, Nami-san? A recipe you would like me to try? I will do anything you want, my love, but I‘m afraid I can’t check it myself right now. Could you read it aloud for me,please? If you don‘t mind, of course.”

“This can wait. It‘s not for me.”

Sanji shifted. Have you come to your senses? For how long? Were you lucid right then or was it brief?

“Not yet,” Nami admitted as if having read his very thoughts. “But I have a feeling it‘ll happen soon.”

Sanji nodded, turning back to his cooking, squeezing the pan‘s handle until it felt like it would burn through his skin to the bone.

A new plate with the treat Nami and you tried at a restaurant in that town you left a few days ago was now put before you.

“Hey,” you called with widened eyes. “Isn‘t that- How did you make it?”

Sanji didn’t answer. He went around the table, sunk to his knees before you and embraced you around your waist with shaking arms, careful not to disturb your injuries.

“Sanji?!“

”Don‘t do this,“ his shaking increased. His tears seeped through your bed clothes. “Please, never again. Don’t do this to me. Please, don’t be so reckless. Don’t do this, please, don’t do this to me again.”

You bowed you head down and hugged him closer. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his hair, caressing his shuddering back. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“Promise me.”

“Promise,” you swore into the night and the days to come.

The door flew open, revealing a breathless, teary-eyed Chopper behind it. And the rest of the crew with him.

“I said I‘d come up if anything changed. Could‘ve waited, you jerks,” Zoro grumbled, a tired smirk spreading across his features as he talked.

That night the recipe from that scrap of paper was perfected through repeated servings. 

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

I think Jason should use the All Blades for more mundane shit

you're... me?

synopsis: the monster trio meet their older selves... but with a little spice

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji

genre: fluff, a little bit of cracks

warnings: a bit suggestive in sanji's part (bc you know... he's kind of a pervert)

masterlist. part two (coming soon)

luffy :

"Huh?" the black haired pirate frowned in confusion when he opened his eyes, "Where am I?"

The Straw Hat pirates were looking down at their older captain who laid on the bed inside Chopper's office. The younger Luffy looked at his older self with a frown, inching his face closer to his older self, "You... you look familiar..."

Without a doubt, he was an older Luffy. But the real question was more... how the hell did he ended up here?

The older Luffy adverted his eyes away from his younger self, his eyes widening at the sight. It was his crew standing in front of him, but somehow they all looked younger...

"What happened- did we beat that guy?!" He straightened up suddenly, catching the pirates off guard, "Tell me, Zoro- Did I beat him?"

The older captain looked at the swordsman with big eyes, making the green haired look at his crewmates in confusion, "Well... since you're here right now... I'd say no- you didn't beat the guy"

"Wha..." Old Luffy frowned, but visibly softened when he made eye contact with a familiar pair of eyes. He straightened his arms wrapping them around your body, making you send a look to your favorite navigator, "(Y/n)!"

He threw himself on your body, almost knocking your over in the process. Older Luffy wrapped his legs around your waist clinging into you like a Koala, "(Y/n), you tell me... did I beat the guy?"

Your older captain hid his face in the crock of your neck, causing your present captain to glare at his older self, "I'm not sure, Luffy, but-"

"Luffy...?" The older captain pulled away from your neck looking at you with teary eyes, "Are you mad at me?"

The Straw Hat pirates looked at their older captain... was he really crying?

"W-What?! Of course not!" You softly replied trying to calm him down as he sat on the ground, "Why do you think that?"

"B-Because you never call me Luffy!" The older captain whined- and to think that your captain would've matured over the years...

"What do I call you normally then?" You asked, fumbling backwards when Luffy wrapped his arms around your waist once more.

"You don't remember...?" Luffy quietly spoke, "You always call me love... or darling."

You blinked repeatedly in surprise. Do you really call your captain 'love' in the future?

Sanji almost fell on the ground at the revelation, putting two and two together. Zoro smirked slightly when he finally understood, he sent a knowing look at his present time captain as he asked, "And how do you call her, Luffy?"

"Hah?" The older Luffy frowned at the swordsman, "What do you mean, Zoro? I call her "(Y/n)" obviously! That's her name after all!"

Robin slyly smirked at the two, "And... what did you say your relationship with (Y/n) was?"

"She's my girlfriend!" Older Luffy stated proudly, "But you know that... you're the one who told me to confess-"

With a quick punch, the older Luffy got thrown away from you landing on his face as he hit the ground. The present time Luffy slowly walk in front of you, tightly clenching his fists, "Who the hell do you think you are?!"

The older Luffy jumped up, titling his head to the side, "I'm Luffy! The King of the-"

"I am Luffy!" Young Luffy pointed at his older self, "Clearly you are just a weird me- So you can't just hug her like that! We don't even know you!"

"Don't know me?!" Old Luffy walked so that he was now face to face to his young self, "She's my girlfriend you idiot- so back the hell up-"

"Luffy..." Usopp spoke up, placing a hand on his young captain's shoulder, "Let me explain something to you."

After what seemed like an eternity, young Luffy finally understood the situation. Much to his older self dismay- "Let go of her!- Hey don't touch me!-

The older Luffy was being held back by Zoro and Franky as he disparately tried to get his younger self off you.

"No." Young Luffy cockily smiled at him, his body pressed unto you with his face pressed against your chest, "She's my (Y/n)- so go find yours!"

zoro :

"Hah? You two aren't dating yet? Shit my bad."

The older green haired swordsman fakely apologized to his younger self and the pretty girl beside him.

You snapped your head to look a the present Zoro, your face turning into one of disgust.

"Dating?!" The flirty cook was glaring at the older swordsman from afar, not believing that the two of them could possibly bee dating in the futur, "And you expect us to believe that Marimo?!"

It was no secret for anyone, you and Zoro hated each other's guts. So the idea of the two of them dating was kind of hard to believe.

"Eh?" The older Zoro glared at the younger cook, "I don't care if you believe me or not! You, come with me." The older swordsman then grabbed the collar of his younger self, ignoring his complains as he pulled to a more isolated place of the Sunny away from the loud crew.

"The hell you want, old man-?" The young Zoro asked as they came to a stop.

The older swordsman took a deep breath, gripping harder on his younger self collar, "I want you to listen carefully to what I'm about to say, kid."

"Kid-?!"

"If you mess up what I have with (Y/n) now, I swear on her life that I will find a way to hurt you and make you regret it, are we clear?"

The two swordsman stared are each other, before the younger one broke their eye contact, "How did you... you know?"

The older one laughed loudly when his younger self looked away from him with the red on the tip of his ears, "How did I get with her you mean?"

"You know what- if you're here to laugh I can just-"

"Woah there kid- It was just a joked!" The older Zoro sighed happily, turning his gaze to look at the quiet sea, "I bought her a necklace."

"A necklace." The younger Zoro deadpan at his words, what type of cliché thing was that?!

"I asked Robin to tell me what my birthstone was... and well I bought her a necklace with a green topaz and she never took it ever since..."

The younger Zoro nodded at himself as if doing he was taking notes mentally. The older swordsman sighted once more, "Just don't be scared to show her how you feel- She's kinda oblivious so you're gonna have to tell her that you love her, though"

"Heh?! Who said that I loved her, old man?!"

"You're my mini me, idiot! Obviously I know how you feel!"

sanji :

"Is she- Is she as beautiful as we imagined?"

"Oh~ She's 10 times better then we imagined"

You stood beside Nami with a disgust expression on your face, "I think I'm gonna throw up."

"Pleaseeeee," The pretty ginger laughed, "As if you're not happy that you're dating the love of your life in the future."

"Nami. I told you that when I was drunk!" You hit her shoulder, "You can't use that against me!"

The young Sanji dropped on his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his, his usual charming smile plastering his face. "(Y/n)~ my sweet, beautiful angel please date me-" He got interrupted by his older self.

"You're doing it wrong." He pulled young Sanji off his knees, "Let me show you how to do it."

The older Sanji walked over you, taking your hand in his, while his other arm sneaked around your waist pulling you closer to him. Sanji's blue eyes flickered between your eyes and your mouth, "You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, my love..." He then leaned closer to your lips so that yours and his were brushing against each other.

"You're just... so mesmerizing-"

"Alright!! I get it! Get off her!" The younger Sanji ripped you away from his older self, pulling you against his clothed chest. "You can go back to see your future (Y/n)- this one's mine."

"I was just teaching you the basics, Sanji! No need to get all protective- I get to touch my (Y/n) all the time and anywhere!" Older Sanji lit up the cigarette in his mouth, "But if you want a real tip, take her on a stargazing date, tell her how beautiful she is- because you really are, my angel- and how badly you love her- AND then touch her however you'd like!"

"Watch your mouth!" Nami yelled at the older Sanji. Her eyes then drifted to her two friends who refused to even laid an eye on each other, "huh?"

"Don't worry, love," The older cook reassured the pretty ginger, "I assure you that (Y/n) is more than happy to be with me..."

"Really...." The navigator trusted Sanji with her life- she just didn't trust him with a woman- especially not when the woman is her best friend.

"Yeah," The older man chuckled as he watch his younger self starting to talk to you with blood oozing out of his nose, "She even asked you to be her maid of honour last week- I mean... In three years or so, she'll ask you to be her maid of honour... So have some faith in me, yeah?"

"Her maid of honour...?" Nami looked over at you, your face redder than normal as the younger Sanji whispered sweet nothings in your ears.

"Angel?" the younger cook spoke in your ears as he placed a hand ion your cheek, "Would you like to go stargazing with me tonight?"

You laughed quietly at his words, "Is that a subtle way of asking the permission of touching m-"

"Of course not!" Sanji straightened himself, "You're so much more than a pretty body... Everything about you is just amazing-"

"Ah what a shame..." "Why's that, my love?"

"I would've given you the permission to touch me~"

"(Y/n)! You can't say stuff like that! He'll bleed out!" Chopper yelled as her tried to stop the bleeding from the cook's nose.

"I'll see you tonight, my sweet angel~" Sanji screamed with heart eyes, ignoring the fact that he was bleeding out.

"No you won't!"

note: i love that trio so much ♡