Archive of Our Own

Eren thinks he’s doing fine. He has successfully exceeded everything he could have expected of himself, really. And by almost thirty, life tends to proceed itself in a singular route, not much can come from insisting on being careless. He's comfortable enough, he believes. 

But I had never expected much from myself, anyways , he also reminds himself sometimes.

He works as a physician at the ER in one of the biggest, most prestigious hospitals in the city. The place where everything’s happening all the time. He considers himself a very respected professional among his colleagues. It feels good to be looked up to in a way. And he owes it to his ethical conduct, his hard work, if he had to point out a reason for it.

Working in a hospital, also he gets to see a lot of things. Not having many choices besides toughen up when dealing with mischances, irrefutable unpredictabilities. Understanding by unmistakable, raw experience things that otherwise he wouldn’t have learned. Facts and truths of people and humanity in general. Extracting himself and being wise, this person he has become. Rejecting things and urges or other inconveniences, because it often leads to uncertainty and loss and suffering and reckless choices.

A lot of his accomplishments wouldn’t have happened if he had not abdicated of his own time. He likes himself like this: working late hours, making it his sole focus, it feels right. He has a considerably close relationship with his parents, especially his mom, and some few good friends. By almost thirty, he’s fine. 

Sometimes, he adverts his energy to romantic territory too, inevitably. Having had few relationships over the years, only two or three girlfriends that could be considered something serious. But mostly first dates fated to never really turn into a second after the end of the night. He avoids deep connections, if it's under his power of choice. And it’s not like he had met anyone that could incite anything deep inside him. He doesn’t even think he’s capable of feeling something like that. But he admires people who fall in love and can bare themselves to other people, this fragile position that comes with it. 

His friend Armin is one of those. Hopeless stupid romantic, he jokes. He is going to get married in two months. Eren likes to see how glad his friend is. Watching from afar, repeating to himself behind a glass of any available liquor, ‘ nope, really not for me.’

It is 9:02 pm. Monday night. March 29. 

He was supposed to leave work at 6:00 pm, normally. He has tried, but this year he hasn’t been able to schedule an overnight shift. 

He hates this particular date, this night, his birthday. Friends making plans, always wanting to go out and celebrate. He thinks he has nothing to celebrate. An empty life, maybe, but that must be pathetic to say out loud to them. He’s only useful when he’s making himself so, working and helping other people. Besides that, nothing. Only a tiring monotonous waiting-for-death path of his own choosing, because he has learned that it could happen anytime. 

“Come on, man, it's been years since we've been out to celebrate your birthday,” Armin speaks through the phone. Never really giving up. 

“I don’t like my birthday.” Eren responds. He takes off his uniform and puts it into his backpack. Empties his water bottle out into the bathroom sink. No more patients tonight for him.

“So I promise we won’t remind you it’s your birthday and let’s just go out.”

"Who 's we?”

“Jean, Connie, Reiner and me," Armin answers. "It’s been ages since we did something together.”

Eren lets out a big sigh and decides he can relinquish his sad selfish convictions for his friend’s sake for just one night.  “Okay, but just for a few hours then.”

To tell the truth, he misses hanging out with them, they’re fun. And it’s been a long time since he has last seen them, now that he thinks about it. Armin is, certainly, the only exception. He has chosen Eren as the best man for his wedding. So Eren is surprisingly pretty involved in all the planning. He has interessant insights, as Armin likes to put it. 

“Fine. Can you make it there by 9:30?”

“Yeah, I’m going straight from work.” 

“Great. See you then.” 

Eren hangs up the call. He should not have picked it up, he thinks. But he runs both of his hands through his head and scrunches his eyes shut. Trying to find it inside himself when he has gotten so sulky, the person his friends gather trying to plan things for, so he can, for the love the god, have a sad night out just for a change. 

He wonders if it has something to do with what he does, his work, or if he’s just depressed, like any susceptible other person. If there is an ulterior reason for him to conduct himself, his life, this way. Drained out fucking badly, closed off, repelling everyone who cares.

That’s why he hates birthdays. The intangible atmosphere of questioning and self-criticism. The inevitable reflection over all of your actions and plans. The past, present and future being put into perspective. 

Future, especially.

This particular word heaves within Eren’s brain, as if he has no room to reside in it. He is used to avoiding the thought of it, for some particular reason he’s yet to conjure. Rather keeping grounded by his hectic routine. He repeats to himself that is all that matters everyday, when he cannot sleep. But tonight, he’s been a little more faced by the nature of his incorrigible void. 

He gets into his car and he starts to drive. He wants to get there fast and he doesn't want to acknowledge that some part of him thinks it will be fine, tonight. That he should not face it as a task. He’s just not sure why he needs this. 

As usual, the silence of his car and his own solitaire, unbearable presence starts to derange his mind. So, he puts some music on. The bar is 20 minutes away, at least, but he makes it there in 12. Eager to get drunk, maybe, spend energy in something other than hating himself. 

Eren’s the first one to arrive, of course. And he ponders if he should wait for his friends inside the bar. But he decides against it, ultimately. Lighting a cigarette and smoking it leaning against his car. He curses the fact that probably he won’t be able to do so inside the place. 

Five minutes pass by, maybe more, he doesn't know. And he spots his blonde friend outside the bar entrance fiddling with his cellphone. He doesn't hurry. But when he finishes his cigarette, he puts it out under his shoe and walks over to him. 

“I was just going to call you,” Armin says when he sees him. 

“Cut the bullshit. I know you were texting Annie.” Eren lightly punches Armin’s back and Armin gives him an annoyed smile and rolls his eyes. 

“She just texted me to check if I got here okay.”

“Gross.”

“That’s not gross. You need to get a girlfriend too, it would really help with your grumpiness.” 

“I don’t have time for it right now.” 

“That’s a terrible excuse,” Armin tells him. Maybe it is an excuse, and he is comfortable with it. Anyways, it’s easier saying this than the long version of the talk, all of his nihilists beliefs. 

“Don’t make me regret coming, Ar.” 

Armin shakes his head. Probably thinking of what a lost cause he is, or even foreseeing how much his own night will suck just because he decided to be a good friend and now he is stuck. Eren himself doesn't want to be here either. “You wanna wait for the guys inside?” Armin asks. 

“Please,” he decides.

The bar hasn’t changed since the last time they’ve been here. The same dim lights, the same indie rock music, the same mix of younger people and people his age. Just like college times, he thinks. Not admittedly, he is suddenly overflown by a fresh wave of excitement and a great, nostalgic sense of possibilities. But he prefers not to let it show, just swallow it. 

They find an empty table to sit, on a far corner. "Perfect for old people like us”, Armin chuckles. They sit down and wait for the inconsiderately late other three to arrive. And Eren curses them for their lack of punctuality, one of the things he hates; he doesn’t want to stay for too long. 

“I’ve decided where me and Annie are going for our honeymoon.” Armin cuts the silence, formed by uncomfortable look-arounds and by, in no small amount, Eren’s scowl. 

“Where?”

“Scandinavia.”

“That’s really amazing, man.”

“We are super excited. She doesn't like beaches, or sunny places in general.” Armin says. And Eren chuckles at his expression. Like this is some sort of crime that he is being forced to let slide. 

“I always thought that if someday I got married, I’d like to choose a place very secluded, not beaches either. Mountains, maybe.” Eren lets out, sincerely. But he doesn’t give it much thought, since he’s never found someone he would like to take on a honeymoon.

“That’d be amazing.”

“But I really don’t have marriage plans.” 

“I think you only say this because you haven’t found someone you really liked.” 

“Nah. Marriage it’s not for me. I’m happy seeing you go through it, though.”

Armin is about to say something, contesting what Eren just said, but that’s the moment when Jean, Connie and Reiner choose to arrive. Greeting them like they are just making it in time. 

“I still can’t believe Eren Jaeger is here,” Reiner says, dismissing the clear displeasure of his friend, tapping on his shoulder. 

“He is. And he got here at 9:30 as agreed.” Eren responds.

“Sorry, man, traffic was terrible,” Connie lets out for him. 

Eren wants to say more, but he decides not to. It’s for the better, he thinks. He can let some things go just once in a while and the music is loud. 

Soon enough, he is forgetting about his friend's lateness when they start talking and drinking. Or how terrible his day was. Being with them reminds him that socializing is not all that bad. And there is this feeling, he acknowledges in a strange way, that back then, fresh from college, first years of med school, he had been a much more open person. 

So much has changed. And the self-questions are coming back to his mind as he decides he needs more alcohol. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink.” He hauls himself up the seat and leaves their table towards the bar. 

He leans onto the counter waiting for the barman to attend to the other people who are waiting for their drinks. 

“A dry martini, please,” someone says.

He’s the next in line, the words of his order already forming on the tip of his tongue. 

But unconsciously, he has to turn his head and at least take a look at who owns this very enchanting, sweet voice. And for him, when he does, it's a very pleasant, special surprise. An image of a pretty young lady. He has to physically restrain himself not to fully turn his body to see her more properly, otherwise people would just take his place in line and order first. 

The visual aspects of this girl match perfectly the voice he has just heard. Black over-the-shoulder-length hair, long eyelashes, a delicate face, perfect cherry lips. Her mouth is really so pretty, and it catches his attention in a way he cannot just ignore she is here, next to him. 

For a second he holds himself, but his eyes work on their own when he lowers his gaze down her body. He’s a common man after all, and she really is a holy level of lovely. 

She’s wearing a tight mini dress beneath a leather jacket, and the breasty area of her clothing choice accents how blessed in many ways she is. Bare strong thighs that call for his attention. On her legs a pair of over the knee boots that shows exactly their shape. He really does contemplate her for a while. And for the first time in his life he’s sure of something, and after seeing only her left side. He’s sure she’s the most perfect woman he has ever seen in all of his existence. 

All happens in a matter of seconds. While she orders a drink, in this seedy bar, with a stale smell. Soon she’ll leave and he might never see this angel again. 

“Hey.” 

To his own surprise, the word escapes his lips. For a long time he’d forgotten how impulsive he can be. He reasons with himself, briefly, trying not to regret saying something, and he comes to the conclusion that he has at least to try. He decides he would very much appreciate doing something to secure the possibility of seeing her again and he thinks that must be, if nothing else, the big plan here.

“Hi?” She faces him. And if there has been some kind of doubt it disappears. She’s heavenly. More beautiful than women from fantasies he might have created into his brain for particular reasons. And there it is, his blood pounding, while he stares at her. A feeling of need after a long deprivation. Of longing after not having, of desire after denial. Of craving after going through an emptiness. He stares at her and she has very pretty, transfixing gray eyes. 

“Can I help you?” she says, crooking her head to look at him. Confused or unimpressed, he cannot decide. He realizes he hasn't said anything then.

“I’m sorry. I was just…to be honest I was just admiring how pretty you are.” 

His whole body heats up, responsively. Even his heart rate spikes up a bit too, he feels nothing more than a teenager all over again, trying to talk to a pretty girl, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“Oh.” She gets shy at his words, blushing. Cute and precious. 

“I’m sorry. I must really look like a creep, which I am not, by the way,” he says, trying to sound humorous, not scare her away. 

“It’s okay,” she says looking away, before giving him another glance, with those impossible consuming eyes, just to check if he is still staring at her. Which he, very guiltily, is. 

“I'm Eren Jaeger,” he says, standing his hand and grinning at her. But regretting, right after. Why would she want to know his name-

“Mikasa Ackerman,” she responds and takes his hand. She is not unsure to do so and she even smiles. His fingers slide along the soft skin of her hand just slowly enough for her to know that, for him, this is no ordinary handshake. But still, briefly enough for her not to be uncomfortable. 

And yet, his gaze doesn't stray away from the delicate lines of her face, from her deep gray eyes. In a very insubordinate condition of his own body, just choosing for himself. “ Eren , are you alright?” she implies. And he should have said something earlier, he’s sure of that, because this way of hers of saying his name, soaked up in honey around the Es… it inspires him to want unutterable things. 

“I was staring again, wasn’t I?” He curses himself inside his mind. This is humiliating for him, he thinks. He is jumping off the edge to repel her acting like this fucking idiot, and she must have men leering at her all the time. 

But Eren is very pleasantly surprised when she rather gives him a playful smile, kind of sensing his agitation and moving slightly closer. “Yes,” she says. 

“I’m really sorry, again, Mikasa. I just had a feeling like-“  He shakes his head, not believing himself, what he’s about to say to this insanely attractive girl. “How can I put this without sounding outrageously cliche? I just had a feeling that I know you?”

Mikasa giggles in response, and his body responds to that in a violent way inside his bones. How she can get more stunning at every glance is something beyond his understanding. A lot of strange new urges dancing around in his brain just looking at her.

“No joking, Mikasa.”

“It’s strange, I just had the same feeling. Is It possible we’ve met before?”

“I really don’t think so. I’d absolutely remember you.” 

“Me too.” 

The bartender brings her drink, turning to him next. And right here, this is the moment he feared. He doesn’t want her to go back to where she was sitting. He wants to know more about her, and wants to taste that martini she is holding right from her tongue too. 

“A whiskey neat, please,” he orders his drink, immediately turning to face her again, watching her take a sip of her drink and how the hollow of her neck is elegant, a lovely extension of smooth skin. 

“It was nice to meet you, Eren.”

“No no no, don’t go, Mikasa. I know I made the worst impression, but I would really like to continue talking to you.” Eren thinks his voice sounds really strange like this, almost begging. 

“My friends are waiting-” she starts to say, but then she stops and takes another look at him, biting her very enticing bottom lip between her teeth. “Alright,” she decides. And Eren is very grateful for it, even if he really doesn’t know exactly what makes her stay. He lets his body relax, finally, stretching his arm against the counter. 

“Shall we start over?” he asks. Thinking that is his chance to make a better impression, be himself. 

He’s genuinely happy she's chosen to be here, talking to him. This fact alone boosts his confidence. 

“No, we don’t have to.” 

Her smile is perfect saying it, a little hint of dare hidden behind cute, alluring traces. He cannot help but be drawn by her and he leans closer, even more. She doesn't seem to mind, she gives him space and he deeply enjoys it.

“Good. So what brings you here tonight, Mikasa?”

“My friends. They’ve been bugging me for days to go out with them.” 

That sounds very familiar, he thinks.

“And here I am stealing you from them.”

Mikasa looks down at her cup, graciously. Her tongue darts out to lick her lip, make it glinting-wet and siren-like. 

Her tongue and her bottom lip, they're both the same shade of reddish pink. 

“Yes. But they’re only talking about their romantic life so I’m not missing much.” 

Again, Eren can relate to that. 

“No boyfriend I should worry about then?”

“No.” Thank God. But he also thinks it wouldn't stop him from trying.

The bartender brings back his whiskey. Eren takes a sip of it, and uses the time to let his eyes drop down to her collarbone for a second. When they get back to her face, she is watching him. 

“Good,” he says. Handing over to her if she really has still any doubts that he has already decided he wants her. 

Undoubtedly , he wants her.

And he has played this type of game before. But this time, with her, his body is playing it too, with a form of urgency. Great, great urgency. His fingers are clenched around his glass. 

“And you? Why are you here on a Monday night?” she questions. 

“Would it sound even cornier if I say seeing you?” He earns the most beautiful smile from her lips. 

“Yes,” she responds, shaking her head for effect, smiling. Her hand slightly brushes his forearm when she says. Both bodies instantly shiver at the touch. And at this, he can’t help but think she might be interested too. 

“I’m here with friends too. To be honest I was thinking about leaving before I met you.”

“Why?”

“I came straight from work. I could use some sleep.” 

Eren is really tired, but Mikasa is definitely more than worth the hours of sleep he would lose. And this is the thought that makes him imagine a lot of delightful things, plans for them.

“What do you do?”

"I'm a doctor.”

“Really?” He doesn’t know what she intends with the tone of the question, but a mischievous look graces her face. And his mind follows this line of imaginative wonders.

“Yes. Why?”

“Nothing, I was just trying to picture you in a white coat.”

“And?”

“I think you might look good.” She says, laying an unspoken suggestive invitation with her eyes, sipping on her martini. He grins at that, it feels really nice, knowing she thinks this of him. He has a renewed motivation and maybe, just maybe, he has better chances with her.

“I really do. You’re invited to stop by my office so you can see for yourself.” His smirk, his words, only intensify the blush on her face. And she looks at him like she is unsure of how to respond, but very tempted to say more. “And you, Mikasa? What do you do?” he asks, pressing a light touch on her thigh. 

“I’m in my last year of law school.” She doesn’t flinch away, just looks at him with more intention. Her words come slower and low, almost breathy, like the contact is doing things to her.

“That’s amazing. I can totally see you working in a suit.” He lets his brain picture her, and yes, there is no way she wouldn’t look like the sexiest creation ever, made out in a divine way, perfect and incredibly inaccessible for men like him. At this, he caresses her thigh with his thumb a little more, just to see if she wants him to stop and deny this simple form of access to her she has allowed him. “I think I’m a little older than you, right?”

“Maybe. I’m twenty five. And you?” Her eyes have a special glint, and she plays with her hair. 

Eren almost says 29. But he remembers which day it is. What tonight had been about before meeting her. He gives the watch on his wrist a little glance just to see it’s past midnight. 

“I’m thirty.”

“To be honest if you hadn’t said you’re a doctor I wouldn't have guessed you’re older at all.” She says very sweetly and he cannot distinguish if she is saying just to be nice.

“And that’s good?”

“I don’t know. Now that I think about it, I kinda like the age gap thing.” She rests her face in her hand, looking at him with a fresh kind of challenge, really allowing him to consider that maybe the night can end up much better than he has thought. 

“You do?”

“Of course. Guys my age are so immature. You can never find a good conversation.” 

Eren doesn't know if there is an underlying type of ask hidden behind her words, but he believes he can find out. 

Snagging her number maybe, or taking her home, it could happen to him. 

“To be honest people my age are usually boring.”

“Hey man, we’re leaving,” Armin interrupts them, along with reminding Eren of his very existence. He is already leaving, and here Eren thought he would be the one to leave early. 

“Already? Why?”

“Annie is calling me with an emergency, but don’t worry she’s fine.” He tells him. “And the guys have to work tomorrow.” What a bullshit of an excuse, Eren thinks. But Armin gives Eren a wink before turning to Mikasa and extending his hand. “Hi, I’m Armin.”

“Mikasa.” She shakes his hand and smiles back at him. 

“Nice to meet you, Mikasa. Take care of my friend for me, please. He may be a little intense but he’s a nice guy.” Eren looks at him in disbelief, wondering what the hell he is trying to do. Well, he can guess. But incredibly, he doesn't need help. Not tonight. Things with Mikasa were progreeding pretty fine if he had to guess, until he barged in. 

“I got it,” she assures his friend, addressing an amused smile at Eren. 

“Good night, bro, happy birthday. Good night, Mikasa.” Armin says before he disappears. And Eren really does pray for her to be distracted.

“Is it your birthday?” 

“Kind of. But can we please ignore this subject? I hate birthdays.”

She feigns thinking but then she gives it to him. “Alright.”

And then they talk. They really talk. Armin's small interruption served to pause the simmering tension that was building more and more between them. And now they are more involved in a sincere sharing of stories, in an exciting idea of getting to know each other. 

It’s exciting for Eren, at least.

He tells her about his patients and experiences of his career and she tells him all of her plans. She’s full of them. For a minute he wishes he had his own as well. It’s just so refreshing for him seeing her outlook on life. He’s so used to only seeing the bad and pessimistic parts of everything in this world. And there she is, reminding him that goodness might actually exist. And he genuinely believes it when she is saying it.

The more they talk, the more Eren sees how they could fit together. He wonders in his mind why it took thirty years and unending mistakes in his life for him to finally meet her. 

“It’s getting late, I think I should head home now,” Mikasa says, accessing his face like she is looking for permission. 

“Okay, I’m taking you home, your friends have already left.”

“I don’t want to bother, but that would be great,” she says. Lewdly looking at him, and surely he gets her message. 

Eren asks the bartender for both of their tabs, as swiftly as he can. Mikasa insists on paying them, she says it's only fair since it’s kind of a special night for him, before giving him a blunt smile that could mean many heady things. But he doesn't let her finish, says she has promised they wouldn't talk about it, giving her thigh a soft squeeze. She sort of agrees then and lets him pay. 

He pulls her jacket over her shoulders—somewhere over the course of the night she had taken it off, saying the place was warm. Eren liked when she did, even let his fingers brush up her naked arms a little, and allowed his eyes to rake more shamelessly over her beautiful breasts. He guides her outside and takes her hand as soon as they pass through the door, and then he kisses her.  

Mikasa throws her hands around his neck and Eren feels a shiver descending down her spine, settling just beneath the small of her body where he holds her. The whole fucking night he’s been wanting to do this. Her lips are soft, sweet and her tongue has an inebriating taste. He really feels that this is his place, crashing his body into hers against the nearest wall on that same public space. Swallowing her gasps, kissing down her neck, letting his teeth sink in, his hand dig into her waist.

But within seconds that’s not enough anymore. He needs more of her. So he lets his hands explore more with such an intense desperation that she separates from him to breathe again, her eyes glazed over and pleading.

His left hand finds the flesh of her ass, venerating at first, then too demanding. He hates that fabric separating them, so he finds his way underneath it, touching her bare, bristled skin. And he almost loses his mind when he hears his name leaving her mouth as a moan. He just presses more, more and more their bodies together, she radiates such warmth all around he seems he wants to combust. 

Mikasa pulls on his hair and she undulates her hips onto his knee. Eren tries to help her, still distracted with how responsive she is when he focuses his kisses on her neck. He likes the way she is giving him her permission, and it makes him reckless, leaving too many sucking and biting marks on her downy skin. But the thought of it is just as pleasant, marking her as his. And he is sure she feels this particular effect on his body , pressing against her stomach. 

She lets out a broken whine, too soft and lurid all at once. And he doesn’t heed if they are being watched, because it’s totally possible that they are. The next place Mikasa feels his lips, is on the exposed skin on her cleavage, something he’s been totally dying to do. 

“Mikasa,” he hisses, after a particular harsh dry thrust of his hips, pinning her up a little higher so he can aim for her hot, still covered center. His erection is painful by now, and he thinks he can feel how wet she is, her dress is riding up a little. He wonders if he could just uncover her breasts, here. But he discards this thought immediately, because as much hot as it is the way she appears to want him, he doesn't want anyone else to see her. 

He wants to contemplate and save her image for himself alone.

“Too bad you don’t like your birthday,” she manages to say, breathlessly. Just when his mouth goes back up to kiss her neck because he already knows she’s extra sensitive there and he likes when she calls his name. “I want to give you my present.” 

Well, that’s enough for him to push her towards his car. 

This fucking woman. Eren cannot believe it and he thinks he is being tested somehow, in a heavenly way as a joke. 

He pushes her towards his car, his mouth stealing hers again, almost making him clumsy as he opens the door for her. He helps her into the car and quickly circulates it to sit down on the driver’s seat. That was a tough decision, choosing which seat to pick, what they would do here. But he goes for what must make him look nicer in her eyes, if he still can accomplish that. 

But he thinks he’s not too bad, once their lips crash together again, sharing a sloppy kiss. Her fingers lace into his hair, undoing what was left of his bun. When they separate for air, she licks his bottom lip before throwing her head back so he has more access to her neck and cleavage, as if she wants him everywhere, in all of the most intimate ways he can ever dream of. And he of course dreams.

And he loves how she’s giving herself completely, without any reservation, just serving herself to him as if he’s worthy. It's in his plans now to make this girl feel so good she’ll never forget him, give her things men her age can't. This desperate need he is feeling for her in a way that consumes everything he knows about himself. All of these indescribable things he wants to do with her.

His mouth does a dirty dance down her neck and her throat, moist with saliva. And he uses one of his hands to pull her closer, guide her to him, as he does with her whatever he wants. His hand runs up her thighs, stroking it, she is pliant and he makes sure he visits every inch of her composition, that delicious skin. 

Slowly, he spreads her legs, and the more he does, the more breathless she is, letting out songs worth losing his life for. So he takes his time to tease her further, toying with the waistband of her underwear, smiling against her shoulder at the frustration on her face. 

Eren wants to worship her on his bed, he really does. To make it clear to her that at the moment he laid his eyes on her, he wanted to be the one to make her come until she was unconscious. This rush feels too pathetic to a man like him, of his age. But when his fingers touch the soaked fabric of her panties, he loses any self-control left. 

“Mikasa, you’re so fucking wet. Is that for me, baby?” He grazes his hands through her slicked opening over her panties. He doesn’t think twice before dipping his hand beneath the fabric making her eyes roll back. She bucks her hips up in an attempt to gain some friction, and it’s so fucking cute to watch it closely. He doesn’t want to miss any sweet reaction from her. One finger sliding up and down her folds, and his thumb adding pressure to her clit, encircling it lavishly. 

“Eren,” she whimpers. And he’s totally focused on her, giving her utterly attention, and would give anything she asked for. Seeing her so needy is making him crazy. His carnall instincts tells him to take her to the backseat and fuck her like she deserves after making him so hungry like never before. But this is much better, watch her beg for him just so he can make her feel good. 

“If you want me inside you, you have to tell me,” he murmurs into her ear, for her to hear him precisely. He feels her shudder, and he paces lightly on her clit, exploring her pussy, and never quite giving her what she most needs.

“Want you, Eren. Only you,” she utters, desperately. He chuckles, cruelly, because he knows she isn’t lying, and he kisses her lips once again. He’s very smug right now, but she must like it, she is soaking up his car seat, so damn wet.

“Good girl,” he praises into her ear—he thinks she deserves many, many praises. And he rips her panties off of her before letting her process his words, this pretty, perfect, poor thing. And somehow, it makes her more desperate for him, and he is in a kind of a trance watching her, taking her apart. 

“I wanted to take you back to my place and fuck you good on my bedsheets but you’re fucking dripping, Mikasa. I have to take care of you now.” Eren says, trying to sound composed. He places a kiss on her forehead, affectionate. He slips one finger inside her, she is drenched in want, but still she is very tight. It makes him almost an animal lost in need to deny control. 

Very shortly—because he cannot think much with her—he acknowledges the fact that it doesn't feel like this with anyone else. And he’s just touching her. Just one of his fingers and Mikasa is ready to melt into what he does to her. 

Perfection, a literal dream he’d never really known better to look for. 

“Eren, pleasee,” she begs. He complies and inserts another digit, fastening the pace, spoiling this pretty girl. His mouth traces her throat, her pulse spot, collecting every drop of her sweat into his tongue.

Mikasa is soft inside and her moans travel down his stomach, going straight to his dick. He moves to stretch her up, to prepare her, make her ready to take him in this godly way of hers to be perfect.   

He doesn’t need to add another finger, she is clenching around him to the point that it almost hurts. “Eren I can’t- I“ she moans. He keeps the combined action of his fingers fucking her and drawing circles on her clit, seeing exactly right on her face when it become too much for her. She buries herself into his neck, biting his shoulder. 

“You can, Mikasa,'' he soothes her. Kissing her neck and nibbling at her earlobe, while he increases even more the pace in and out of her. “You’re taking my fingers so good, I can’t wait for you to take my cock.” 

“Aaa Eren!” She comes around his fingers, her face all cute, desire-taken. Crying out his name while her hips buckle violently high off the seat. 

“That’s it, come for me, babygirl. I’mma make you feel so good all night,” he promises, as he keeps flickering her clit through the aftershocks of her orgasm. When he slips out, a trail of white-translucent slick is left on his fingers. He licks them clean. It tastes better than any other thing he has ever tasted. Sweet, like her lips and her tongue and her skin.

He kisses her again, making sure she could taste herself. “Let’s go home. I have a whole night ahead to fuck you.”

On the ride home, Mikasa falls into slumber. Eren prides himself on this fact. Maybe the orgasm was good and her body is wearing it off, he thinks. 

He gives a quick glance at this gorgeous girl, just sleeping at his side on the passenger seat, like the angel she is. And he can’t help the smile creeping up his face. 

He couldn’t be more grateful for Armin pushing him into going out tonight. He dumped his friends to stay with her, but they would have to understand him. 

This time, he takes his time on the road home. He can’t wait to continue their night, but he realizes, life can be appreciated sometimes by the smallest things as well. 

*

“Baby, we’re here.” 

It just rolls out of his lips, this loving way to address her. Perhaps, because of the long reflection all the way on the drive, that she would be the perfect little thing that his life is missing. To call ‘baby’, and many other things.  

“What?” Mikasa’s eyes flutter open, as she tries to process her surroundings.

“We’re in my building,” Eren says cupping her cheeks and caressing her chin with his thumb.

“Okay.” 

Eren scoops her into his arms and takes her out of the car in the direction of the elevator. Mikasa is still a little sleepy, but she rests her head on his shoulder, locking her gaze on him. And she’s even more beautiful without the dim lights; on the way up to his apartment; after coming for him. He wonders if she can see it on his face, the notes of his desire, of how hungry he’s for her. 

Their lips meet once again, in the elevator, now more passionate. It’s intoxicating for how much he thinks he needs her, to touch her.

Mikasa’s hands traces eagerly his bulge, slightly squeezing his dick over his pants, earning from him a low groan that is immediately muffled by her own mouth. Eren puts her back onto her feet just to press her against the wall. Just to have more space to feel her body. And fuck. This ride is taking forever when all he wants is to get her inside his apartment and fuck her until they both forget there’s anyone or anything else in the world besides them two.

Is just infuriating that he’s in her presence for hours now and still he hasn’t eaten her out deliciously, tasting every inch of her. He’s almost about to go down and claim her pussy with his mouth when finally the elevator’s door opens up.

He guides her down the long hall by her waist and he refuses to let her go while they walk. 

Once they get to the end of the hall, Eren stops outside the door that leads to his place. 

“Let's come in? I promise I will treat you and your pussy just right.” His words gain a soft tone now, just as if she isn’t here for it, speaking close to her ear. Asking her despite the fact that they have been heavily making out, like he hasn’t made her orgasm saying his name. But it comes from a place within him, very deep, of craving. 

“You can do whatever you want with me and my pussy,” she says, looking away, bold in her words, but still shy and blushing. He almost gets to his knees, wanting to propose. And certainly, there’s something unmatched about the two of them, an insane chemistry, and he wonders if doing that might be okay. 

He busies himself opening the door then, quickly, pulling her into his apartment and locking it. 

Now it’s just them two. Alone. In their own world, nobody else. His apartment is clean and he hopes she would like to stay, or at least come back. He groans against her hair, just thinking about it and hoists her up, not wanting to waste any other second. Holding her by the back of her thighs taking her straight to his room. Stealing her for himself. And when he does so, he can feel her bare cunt soaking through his clothes. 

Eren feels it like an addiction, a quick form of one he has to be careful with. Her scent. Her voice. Her beauty and perfection and her way to be loving, to be sweet and tormenting. Imagining what it would be like to visit everywhere in her, not let any precious part go neglected. Quell all of his fire with Mikasa, his lust. And vaguely, more detached from reality, he craves for her to be… his. 

Eren drops Mikasa in the middle of his bed. She fits in beautifully there. He’s even tempted to ask her to stay forever, but this is a right he has yet to earn. He has to fuck her first, at least, show her how good he can make her feel.

And without any ceremony, she reaches over and starts to unbutton his shirt, as fast as she can, but clumsy.

Eren burns up at her stare, and quickly discards her jacket before going straight to the hem of her dress, pulling it over her head, ungraciously, impatient. 

“Fuck,” he growls, in adoration. 

In rapture attention, watching the way her breasts spill out of her bra when he dips his fingers into the cups, exposed to be admired. They are pretty. So very beautiful. Heavy and plentiful. She is flushing from the tip of her ears to her chest and he tests the weight of them into his hands. Kneading her skin, squeezing gently, she is even softer here. Eye-consuming her and swallowing tight. 

Eren pinches one of her nipples between his fingers, still entranced, careful. Wanting to see what she likes, if they can turn even more pink. She lets out a sigh and bites her cherry bottom lip. 

It's all too much for Eren, honestly, she is too much. So, he bends to press a kiss across each one of her breasts, brushing his lips along the lines between them. Her skin pulses beneath the contact and he does it again, using his tongue. Leaving open mouthed kisses and teeth marks. 

Desire is marking her expression when he looks up at her. He has been deprived of such a lovely thing like her his whole life, and she's giving him something he cannot begin to explain how much he intends to cherish. “You have the most perfect tits I have ever fucking seen, baby.” Eren says, gravely. 

Mikasa is really delightsome, and she is being so, so good, he wants to taste more of her, so his mouth traces a path down, kissing her stomach, the enticing curve of her waits. When he gets to her desired, drenched cunt, she is already bare and exposed to him with a beauty unmatched as that of her breasts. 

“You are so fuckin’ pretty, Mikasa,” he rasps. “Dripping just for me.”

He brings his fingers to open her up for him to see, lost in appreciation but not hesitating before licking up a taste of her liquid want from her beautiful, most intimate part. Love is a word that must not be lost to him, because he really thinks he loves this. This, her taste and her cunt, and this moment with her she is giving him as a gift. 

Yes, it’s really addicting, these things she does to him. And he cannot resist inserting one finger into her, licking, kissing more of her pussy. Tasting and taking her and letting her steal any other sense within his body that is not mad want to devour her. 

And these sounds, her cries, makes him rigid in adoration, adding another finger and then another. Not distancing from her even for a second, condemning breathing as not so necessary having her cunt just for him to serve himself like this. 

“Eren-Eren,” she repeats. Again, again and again. His fingers glide in and out, in and out, while his tongue flicks at her clit and her taste and her smell coats all of his face. 

Eren feels her convulsion tight around his fingers, sweet on his tongue.

A goddess right after she comes, that’s what Mikasa is. Half-lidded eyes, rosy cheeks, swollen lips, glossed breasts and this fucking perfect, pretty cunt orgasm-spent. He has the most beautiful and sexy woman in the world on his bed, all spread up for him. A fucking good luck he had tonight, in deed. 

He locks their lips together again. Mikasa accepts his kiss with the grace of someone hazed by recent bliss. He gently cups her cheek and looks into her eyes. “I can’t believe how perfect you are, Mikasa.” 

“I want your cock now,” she says, gasping out into his mouth as he gives a particularly breathtaking kiss just for being a tease. 

“You sure you can take it now, pretty girl?” he taunts. But he wants to know if she still wants to go on, because he knows once he starts with her, he won't be able to stop.

“Yes.” Her hands roam over his body, caressing him and reaching to unbuckle his pants. He is glad he is still wearing them, otherwise it would be only convenient to slide into her after seeing how wet she had been for him. And, for a fact, he wanted to take his time. Handle her with devotion. 

Mikasa seems to be too faded, and she whimpers in frustration for not being able to work him free of his buckle. Obviously he notices, and it’s cute how much she wants it. She came for him twice and yet is so desperate for his cock. A part of him he’s been trying to control since their lips met is immediately incited by her state. He wants to fuck her hard in every way possible. So, he helps her with the buckle, undoing it. 

“You have no idea how much I want to fuck you, baby. Do you think you can handle it?” 

She nods in despair and he smiles and strokes her cheek. 

“Gotta find a condom first. Be patient, my love.” 

“Just fuck me raw, Eren! I need it,” she voices before he can move out of her grasp around his thighs, looking up at him. Begging with her doe, gray eyes. 

Eren sucks in a sharp breath, the tone of his words barely known to him. “Oh, you need it?”

“Yes, Eren, please.” At that, he just loses with how perfect she is. For him. Just for him and his ruin. 

He slides his pants and boxers down his legs and can see her eyes wide at the sight of his hard, throbbing dick. He wonders if now she is regretting being so putty into his hands. 

But it is him. And he’ll handle her with care, with love . Because he would like her to stay. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make it fit.” He winks at her, a hint of cruel tease, but it’s her fault because she is really so good for him. He starts sliding his tip through Mikasa’s luscious entrance, bumping at her swollen clit. She moves her hips up, impatient to have him inside, but he leans over her, caging her in, preventing her from moving. “So eager, Mikasa,” he says into her ear, but it comes almost like a groan. 

In bed, there are particular things Eren likes. Ways he chooses to spend energy and seek pleasure-fulfillment. But with Mikasa none of that comes to mind. He doesn't have to play a trick for her to do exactly what he needs. Surrendered to him in unmistakable devotion, and all the while his heart beats so fast for her. 

“Ereeen- please,” she begs again. And he cannot stand the thought of such a perfect angel like her not coming into his life to stay. 

He just wants to capture every moment of this unparalleled girl wanting him all this much, laid on his bedspread, perfect. But he also cannot wait any longer. He kisses her lips again, savoring her ‘ pleases’ , then slips all the way inside her. Slowly, without any barrier just like she asked. Feeling the sensation of every inch of his cock piercing into her. 

“Fuck, Mikasa,” Eren curses. “You are so tight.” 

She is breathing heavily, and her walls clench around him even tighter after his words. He wants to praise her with words he cannot find, so. Wants to forge them. He wants to inhabit this hot sensation of her around him—

“Baby, you feel so fucking good. I’m almost entirely inside you-” Eren grunts. Her eyes are closed shut and she holds his shoulder tightly with one hand while the other grips at the sheets. She rolls her hips into him, and he cannot distinguish if it’s just a decision of her own body while he gives her time to adjust. But then he gives her more. He buries his cock into her, fully. 

Eren seeks her lips again, kissing tenderly, caressing her belly with his fingertips. “You take me so good, baby. Can you feel how deep I am?”

She moans against his lips, and nods her head, gifting him with one of her smiles. Small, faint, but pretty, pleased. “You can move now,” she tells him. Her words are barely audible as their mouths are glued together, so Eren gives her lips one more kiss and starts moving. 

Eren intertwines his fingers with hers, and slowly picks up his pace. Their hips entangle in a sensual dance, meeting each other, as if they don't want to be apart. He pulls out of her only so he can slide back into her again. She gasps at each thrust, when he drives into her strong and deep. Entering paradise in the slide of his veins along her walls. 

He knows he's close, already, pathetically—it's only natural not to last long with her. So, he starts to pound into her harder, faster, delighting himself on how that little pussy was made exactly for him. His cock fits perfectly into her insides, like they were two parts waiting to be put together. 

“I can't last much longer, baby,” he hisses. Tilting her hips for a better angle, biting on her chin, and fucking his dick deep, moulding her to him. He wants her with him in her bones, and she flutters around him so fucking exquisitely. He wants to visit her body again like this, wants this girl to tell him she can be his. But he do not ask her to. He just moves inside her in a way that he hopes she’ll know, relentlessly. 

“Inside-come inside,” her voice comes all heaven-like, drenched in ecstasy. He kisses her lips, the best he can, she cannot be real. But she gets impossibly tighter. So he follows her climax and comes inside her. White hot liquid spilling deep inside her softness, pouring a load so deep inside her, giving her all of him. 

He crashes on top of her on the bed. Their heavy pants are all that can be heard. Sweat making their bodies glued together. 

They stay there for a moment, then a few minutes. He strokes his fingers into her hair and portions kisses along her skin, watching intently until her breath is even. He wants to say a variety of things and makes a lot of undemanded promises. Sex with her is really good and she is perfection, he cannot afford the thought of not saying he would like to give her a place in his life, permanently. 

The sex was really good, he tells himself that's why. 

Eren tries to form words, invite her for dinner tomorrow, maybe. A repeat right after. She might say yes, he thinks. But then she pushes him off her, before going down and grabbing his post-orgasm dick. Looking down at her sight, all fucked out, taking him into her delicate, small hands causes his groin to tight, again. She stares up at him with a devilry smile on her face, licking her lips. 

He cannot fully make sense of what she is doing by his great desire to see what is her idea, what she wants more from him. His member steers under her loving attention. 

Oh my god. How can this woman be real?

She wraps her pink lips around the tip of his cock, sliding down her mouth. And he is very much hard again, unbelievably. 

He's so sensitive, even after a fucking good orgasm milked by her tight walls. She caresses him gently with her tongue along his entire length, sucking the tip, kissing his cock with all her earnestness. Looking up at him, searching for something, like his reactions or his approval. And he cannot fool himself, he is giving it to her, gasping out loud, tugging her hair, trying not to be too forceful. And her face glows with it, still angelic, like the first time he saw her, but maybe not too innocent performing these kinds of wonders.

She makes her way to his base, eliciting groans from Eren as he tries to control himself with the slow pace she maintains so lewdly. She really wants to see him go crazy. Her saliva coats him all over, making him slide easily as she kneads his balls, pumping the part that doesn't fit into her mouth.

“You’re too big to fit entirely into my mouth,” she says, removing herself from him for a tortuous seconds just to resume her work right after.

He cannot function much after this. “Mikasa,” he snarls, warning. 

And content, she smiles at that. Then his cock is hitting her throat, her tongue working on him so nicely. But she stops, and unwraps her lips from him. He wants so badly to pretest, to pull her back, but then she just ruins him irreversibly. “You said you liked my tits, want to finish on them and come all over my face?” she says ever so sweetly, lips sparkling with his pre cum mixed with her saliva. 

“Fuck.” His chest is heavy. 

And apparently, this is enough of an answer for her. Mikasa sits on the bed pressing her roundy, ample tits together. He knees before her still not believing how dreamy and amazing this girl is. She’s everything he could ever want from life. 

Eren hopes he can enjoy this as much as possible, but he knows it won’t take long for him, having his way with her like this, knowing he could cum on that pretty face of hers. 

He sighs when he pushes slowly between her breasts. Spasms shooting through his entire body just from the touch of her skin, creamy and warm. From the sight of his cock being enveloped by the most delicious tits he'd ever seen. The friction alone is otherworldly. Mikasa tilts her face so she can circle his tip with her tongue, and he groans. 

He starts moving, being received by her mouth at the end of each thrust.

Then, unnoticed, he is going faster, fucking her beautiful, perfect breasts. Accomplishing to score the desire he is sure he’s had in that first glance at her, in that bar. 

Every time her tongue meets his cock, his entire body seizes to control itself a little, taken by electricity. When he comes, loads of his cum decorate her beautiful face in white. She licks what her tongue can reach, and the excesses run down her chin and her collarbone.

 *

“Come for me again, babygirl.” 

She comes for him, singing songs into his ear, a love bird, so sweet. He doesn't know how many times he’s made her come. He doesn't know how many times he’s come, himself. 

It’s almost morning, judging by the clarity inside his room, and they’ve been fucking non-stop. After fucking her tits and painting her face with his seed, he had taken his revenge on her, fucking her so hard from behind. She’d confessed to him she loved every second of it. Then she’d rode him, tits bouncing on his face making him want to fuck them again. They’d also taken a shower together, only to get even more dirty than when they’d started. Now, they are back to bed. Not even an inch of her skin untouched by him. 

He comes too, together with her. Looking each other right in the eyes, like they didn’t want the night to end here. 

But this time, for him, it ins't just fucking. Make love must feel like this, he thinks. But it should be impossible after only one night.

Eren has preferred not to work tonight. Having put on bountiful hours, he was able to choose. 

He is making his way home. His windows are rolled down and he stops when the light is red. The word celebrate never made much sense to him, but now it does. Tonight, it’s his birthday and he wants to celebrate. With her. All night. It’s a special date after all. 

One year with her.

If it wasn't for Mikasa, he'd be almost thirty-one and totally lost. Ditched in a void, an unfulfilling emptiness inside himself. Watching life going by him. Not really caring about living it. It had been hard to believe in the concept of living, back then. 

Without even noticing, he’s smiling, a bright smile. He’s happy now, he thinks. He has her. She brought a feeling of completeness to his life. 

Just thinking about her makes him want to get home faster, smell her scent, touch her skin, feel her body close to his, kiss her lips. They've been engaged for two months. On her birthday, he proposed to her, finally. The thought of her becoming his wife still makes him incredibly hard. 

She’s the love of his life and when he gets home his eyes immediately search for her inside their apartment. But he’s greeted by a living room only dimly illuminated.

He walks down the hall, and he finds her in the kitchen. His breath hitches at the sight of her. like it's something he was not prepared for. She’s wearing a red dress that goes to her knees with a slit exposing part of her right thigh. It involves her body too perfectly. She has her hair done in an up-do with some loose strands falling down her face. On her neck is a necklace he’s given her in their first month together, which matches exactly with the engagement ring on her finger (he’d bought them on the same day, he already knew he loved her, he already knew he wanted her to be his forever). 

She might be surreal for how beautiful she is.

She has prepared dinner and set everything perfectly for them. 

When she spots him standing there, at the door frame, staring at her, she smiles and walks over to him. He does not do much but to stand there and admire her. Her complexion. Her devotion. Everything about her. He doesn't have to wonder whether she loves him.

“Hi,” she says, sweetly. “I was waiting for you.” She presses a soft kiss on his lips and he envelops her with his arms, resting his head on the top of hers, breathing in on her scent.

“Mikasa, you didn’t have to do all this.”

“You really think I wouldn’t do anything for you- for us tonight?” She takes a step back to look at him with adoration burning into her eyes.

“I love you,” Eren utters. These words feel like they only belong to them now.

“I love you more, Eren,” she insists. Eren kisses her again. “How was work?” she asks, lovingly, when they separate for air. 

Mikasa always asks him this, when he gets home. She lets him rest his head onto her lap and entangles her fingers into his hair. He tells her even the meaningless things and she really does listen to him when he talks.

“Hectic as always. Couldn’t wait to come home and see you.”

“I missed you too.”

Eren lifts her up and places her on the table, making a solid effort not to break the delicate china she has set on. He steals her with his mouth for another kiss, passionately. Her legs embrace around his waist and before he sees, he’s leaning into her. He leaves open mouthed kisses on her neck and suddenly his lips are running all over her skin. He cups her breasts, kneading them, feeling her nipples stiffen against the fabric of her dress.

He unzips her devilry red dress, pushing it down her breasts quickly, just to find out she’s not even wearing a bra. She doesn’t need it, he thinks. And analyzing closer, he’s almost certain that her tits are somehow heavier. 

In a matter of seconds, she’s moaning softly and calling out his name. Her nails buried deep into his back leaving scratches all over, his shirt pulled down his shoulders by her impatience. He brushes his teeth across her nipples, the pretty shade of pink of them even more enticing covered with his saliva. 

“I love this fucking perfect tits more than my own life,” Eren grunts. He loves how tonight of all nights her breasts are overly sensitive. The smallest touches earning big reactions out of her body. When he thrusts his erection into her, she almost screams. 

“Eren…I can’t, I’m gon-aaaa,” she whimpers, breathless, rubbing herself against him. Eren can’t quite comprehend where this desperation comes from, he always ends up giving her everything she wants.

“You gonna what, baby,” he rasps. 

He doesn't understand but he lives for the moments when Mikasa is on the edge to come for him, like a sex goddess, irresistible, especially with that cute-horny face. He presses his erection further against her, and she picks up some form of pace, seeking what she seems to want so badly.

“I think I’m gonna come,” she says more clearly now, as if the wave of her climax is already taking hold of her. 

“My pretty baby coming just like this?” Eren teases, but he helps her, rocks his hips into her just in pace. She's desperately sensitive, he does it on purpose, enjoying how her tits bounce on his face, kissing her flesh thoroughly. 

Eren wonders how pretty she would look all teary if he held her hips now to stop, edge her a little more. But no, she has put a lot of effort into making a perfect night for him, he has to show how grateful he is. So he just lets her reach her much-desired orgasm. He'd give her another one right away. How many she wanted.

“Ereeen…” she stretches out his name, the es, calling out for him as she comes. He has to drink it from her lips. Yet to decide if he wants to punish her for coming without him inside her. 

Regardless, she makes everything seem like a reinforced reward for how needy she sounds, how wet she feels. 

“Aww baby, you wanted to provoke me dressed up like this, didn't you? Now look at you coming before I even fuck you on my cock,” he comments, but he cannot complain much. It is his fault for spoiling her all that much.

“Fuck me, Eren,” she tells him. Voice still charged by her orgasm.

“Yes, I’m gonna fuck you,” he declares. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard just the way you like.” He presses the world right into the skin of her neck, like the whisper of a promise he cannot wait to make into reality. Unbuckling his belt and unzipping his work pants, lowering his boxers and freeing his cock. Not thinking much, Mikasa-driven. “I think you deserve it after being so good to me,” he drawls.

The bottom of her dress is up to her hips, and Eren's hand greedily goes straight to her folds. She's all luscious, he smiles as he kisses her. And without a second thought, he's thrusting into her with his extraordinarily hard, pulsing cock. Being inside her is like being at home. They’ve fucked wonderfully in the morning, and Eren had to go through his entire day with the image of her perfect tits bobbing in his head. 

He needs to feel her enfold him again just as much as she seems to be desperate for him. The tip of his cock hits her cervix, she is tight, more than normal, and she feels so damn good on him. Clenching around his dick in such a way that there would be no other way out than to fuck into her at a hungry pace until he feels her climax tearing over the extension of her spine and around him. Her legs trembling around him, his name on the tip of her tongue said with devotion.

He floods her deep with his cum. 

After a few seconds, he's still out of breath, leaning over her on the table. She combs his hair with her fingertips and kisses his forehead. His soon-to-be wife giving him her heart with no reservations. Love feels like this. Right inside his chest, on the rate of heart beneath where she lets him lay his head.

“Eren…” she calls him.

Eren likes to fall asleep when they’re like this. “Hum?” he responds, lazily. 

He is mind-absently caressing her thigh, still uncomfortable positioned over the table. But it still feels nice.

“I have something I need to tell you.”

“What, baby?”

“I wanted to wait for the dinner, but I really need to say,” she mumbles, quietly. And he is soon stricken by worries. Not able to afford any slight thought of it being something bad. So he stays quiet and waits for her to say it, soothing her with kisses on the skin of her collarbone at the same time. “I am pregnant.” 

He looks up at Mikasa, trying to make sense of these words she says. Then, he is fully lifting his body up and off of her. His silence must start to frighten Mikasa, who was apparently so calm about it before. 

“I don’t know if that’s what you want. We have never really talked about it-”

“Mikasa, I just fucked on the kitchen table.” When he’s able to form words, this particular worry is the first one that comes to his mind. 

“I know. It won’t affect the baby,” she says, like she is not sure if this is what he is pressing her for. It breaks his heart, how doubt settles on her face. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want to do it after I told you,” she lets out, mumbly. “Just please, don’t hate me.” With that, Mikasa breaks out in tears.

“Mikasa, I love you,” Eren holds her chin into his hand, making her look up at him. She is still sitting down on the table, and he dries her tears with his other hand. “What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t know,” she tells him, shaking her head, fresh tears leaking from her eyes. “I won’t keep it if that’s not what you want. But it’s our baby, and I want to-”

“I want it,” Eren tells her, bringing her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles, then her palm. He allows himself to bring a hand to her stomach, and he feels his eyes getting wet too.

“Really?” Mikasa cannot contain her smile, putting a hand on top of his. 

“Yes. I never thought I wanted a life, a future until I met you, Mikasa. And now, I have you, our baby… this is far more that I could ask for. I’m really happy.” 

Eren drops his head to her shoulder. It’s a lovely vision for him. Dreams he has had after Mikasa came into his life that he’d been still half-way afraid of giving voice to. 

"Me too, Eren.” She runs a hand through his hair, his arms are protectively thrown around her.

“But, Mika, weren’t you on the pill? How did it happen?”

“You make me really sloppy, Eren, you know that?” She tugs on his hair. “You make me think about you and I forget about all the rest sometimes. It’s your fault.” Eren smiles against her neck, and he looks up at her, she is blushing. His girl is so fucking cute, he has to kiss her. Ever since they’d met, everyday they were together they would have sex. And a lot of it, insatiably so. 

Eren pulls away a little to look at her. “I’m so happy I did it. We’re gonna have a baby of our own Miki.” 

“I think you’re gonna be a really good father.” 

“Oh my God. And imagine how sexy you’ll be.”

“I’m not gonna be sexy all fat and swollen.”

“Yes, you’ll be. I didn’t think it would be possible for me to want you even more, but now that I know you’re carrying my child, I won’t be able to resist you, not even for a second.” 

Mikasa smiles and pinches his cheek. “Happy birthday, Eren!”