//cw: shower sex, tiny bit of choking and slapping,

Eren's subby for like 2 seconds//

Tepid beads of water kiss your skin as you remain stagnant underneath the gentle shower stream. It was just what you needed after playing around in the snow with Eren, allowing yourself to defrost from the frigid winter that roared on outside. Closing your eyes, you begin to melt into the steamy aroma of your favorite scented body wash. A knock on the bathroom door beckons your attention, and you respond by calling out permission to the brunet who stands just beyond. He doesn't hesitate to enter shortly after; you can tell by the rustling of clothing that he fully intends to invade your shower time— not that you would even mind it.

"Mind if I join you?"

He takes the liberty to ask, but it's moot, considering the fact that once he pulls back the curtain he stands before you completely bare.

"Sure," you respond, not sure if the question was rhetorical or not— nonetheless, you move back, allowing him to make his way inside.

Eren is beautiful.

Of course, anyone with eyes can see it— but in this moment he's exceptionally gorgeous, with the way his dark tresses stick to his broad shoulders amidst the droplets of water that meld onto his tanned, tattooed skin. His jade eyes seem to sparkle even brighter underneath dampened lashes, especially as they smile at you with such desire and adoration.

It doesn't take you long to reach out and touch him; your fingertips gently dancing over the surface of his broad chest, trailing down through each crevice of his toned abdominals. With the body of a god, Eren's blessed you with a little slice of heaven on earth.

He shivers desperately underneath your touch.

Few have touched him in such a way, but nothing could compare to yours— the way you admire him so intimately, much more than any surface level attraction or lust. It's deeper than that, and he wonders if you can feel it too.

"I'm sorry."

You whisper, finally discovering the extent of his injuries that you've indirectly caused— the purpled bruises serving as a painful reminder that maybe you aren't deserving of this; of him.

"Hey," he says, lifting a hand underneath your chin so that you can properly look into his eyes, "it's not your fault."

"How can you say that?" You ask, your tone gritty as you choke on your words, filled with remorse. "If I hadn't—"

"But you did. It's no coincidence that our paths crossed y/n, maybe there's greater forces at work here. I think you were always meant to be mine."

He chuckles as he says it, and maybe he's teasing you or just making light of the situation, but you can help but wonder if maybe he's right. You've only heard of such a thing in fairytales and romantic media that made your heart ache to experience a feeling such as this— but to experience it now, every fiber of your soul lit on fire by a flame with such ferocity that you can't imagine living any other life without it's warmth.

His hands find purchase onto your waist, pulling you in closely so that he can better admire your form. You're perfect for him, he thinks, every inch of you is quintessentially beautiful and he can't help but feel like he's drowning within the depths of your pretty eyes.

He can't stand it a single second longer— his lips finally crash against yours, his pierced tongue teasing your bottom lip to request entry, to which you so earnestly grant. A large palm grasps your breast, rolling his thumb over the peak of your nipple, inciting a hushed gasp from your soft lips.You know what he wants, the hardened evidence prods so diligently at your thighs— it's hard to ignore the tingle between them as he continues to caress your body so sensually, every passionate touch creating a pool of arousal that yearns for only him.

Your hand finds itself encircling his cock— a whined curse escapes from his lips against your own as you squeeze tighter, slowly teasing the head with your thumb as he bucks his hips in search of more friction.

You move faster, his breath shakes as he leans into the crook of your neck, a strong arm supporting his weight beside your head against the marbled shower tiles. Those breathy moans that you can feel panting against your skin are probably the most beautiful thing you've ever heard— that is, until he starts begging you for release.

"Please, f-faster. Don't stop— gonna make me cum."

To have such a big, intimidating man such as Eren crumbling underneath your touch ignites something in you that you may not have realized was there— especially as you feel his cock throb against your palm, signaling that he was oh so fucking close— a streak of dominance that wants to test his patience causes you to stop stroking him, relinquishing your hold on his length with a teasing grin.

He groans in frustration, thick brows furrowed as his eyes darken with desire. It was cute; he admires what you tried to do. Maybe it would have worked if it was anyone else, but you simply can't outdo the doer— and what Eren plans to do, is fuck you until you can hardly feel your legs, especially after the stunt you just pulled.

Before you can even realize it, you're turned over— chest pressed against the cold shower walls with a strong hand splayed mid-center down your back. Thick strands of dampened hair tickle your face as Eren leans in, slipping the other around your body and in between your thighs. Deft fingers find your clit, drawing pressurized circles around the bud just before slipping two fingers effortlessly inside. You're so for him wet already— he's thrilled to find that you won't need much prep because he's dying to feel you wrapped tightly around him as soon as possible.

"Arch your back for me, pretty."

he commands, just before snaking his hand back up the expanse of your body and gripping the front of your throat. You willfully obey, pressing your backside into him as he hums your praises.

"That's my girl."

"Eren,"

you sigh, feeling him stretch your pussy as he enters you in one slow, yet deep thrust.

He wastes no time in picking up the pace, hips jutting forward in sharp slaps against your ass as he fucks into you with reckless abandon. His hold on you becoming tighter as the force of his thrusts increase— almost feral in nature with the way he grunts against the shell of your ear with each particularly harsh blow.

It becomes too much too soon once his free hand circles your clit once more, coaxing your orgasm with every flick of his wrist— you cry out, feeling your pussy convulse around his thick cock that continues to relentlessly fuck you through your high. You bring a hand back to slow his erratic pace, but he's quick to grasp your wrist and pin it behind your back.

"Ah, ah— don't run from me now."

He smirks; you can just hardly witness it with the way he cranes your head back, a firm hold on your neck adding just the right amount of pressure to make you feel like you're floating.

"You wanted this, right? Or else you wouldn't have played with me the way you did."

He slows his hips, more for his own sake than yours because while he may talk a big game, he knows he's about to cum at any moment— your pussy just feels too good, and you look so beautiful when you're all fucked out for him. It's a sight he'll never grow tired of. Maybe he'll paint you like this next time, if you'll allow it.

"You can take it, hm? Gonna be my good, pretty baby an' let me fuck you full of my cum?"

You nod in agreement, but it's not enough for him. He wants to hear you say it out loud. He delivers a sharp slap to your sensitive clit, demanding you to tell him what he wants to hear. You gasp, the pleasure building inside once more as you approach your second orgasm of the night, willing to tell him anything his heart desires as long as you get to come again.

"Yes— please."

You moan out the only coherent words you're able to say at the moment, but it's still not enough; another slap and a harsh thrust sends your eyes rolling back as your lids flutter shut.

"Yes, what?"

He asks, breathless in the way he's so fucking close— he just wants you to say it; tell him that you're his.

"M' your pretty baby," you slur. "All yours."

It was the second time you've told him this, but it felt so much different this time. The words you said held so much promise now, because in actuality this was the first time when you wholeheartedly meant what you said— you were his, and maybe he was yours too. The specifics didn't matter nearly as much as the feelings both of you felt, yet weren't sure if they should be spoken aloud just yet.

"Fuck, y/n... I—"

he cuts himself off with a shuddering moan, his cock throbbing as he empties himself inside of you, soon whispering sweet words of praise about how good you make him feel and how well you manage to take him every time.

Your eyes flutter shut as you absorb all of the lithe kisses he presses into your skin, his strong arms supporting your weight as your legs shake from back to back waves of pleasure. The water has since gone cold, but neither of you seem to mind— making sure to wash each-other up as quickly as possible so that you can finally snuggle up together underneath the warm, cozy blankets in the bedroom.

You can only hope you haven't done any damage to Mr. Ackerman's water bill.

✧

After getting dressed and hopping into bed, the two of you decided to order some late night takeout and watch horror movies until one, or both of you passes out.

It was nice; feeling Eren curl up behind you, holding you tightly against his chest as his breath tickled the back of your neck with each calming exhale. You're glad he decided to forego wearing a shirt— truthfully you just loved feeling his warm skin against yours. There was no greater feeling than melding into each other, two bodies radiating a soulful energy that was incomprehensible to anyone other than themselves.

Not even halfway through the movie, he falls asleep— placid snores that escape his slightly parted lips undoubtedly give him away. You smile, doing your best to turn your body around within his hold to better face him. He looks so beautiful like this, his long lashes kiss his chiseled cheek bones amidst an expression of pure perfection; peace and serenity.

You come to understand his inspiration to paint you in such a way— he truly looks angelic in this instance, probably the only time you've ever seen him appear so handsomely innocent. If you had the ability to do so, you'd surely return the favor but instead, you settle on a gentle kiss to to his forehead— running a hand through his dampened hair, carefully, as to not wake him.

Pulling him in a little tighter, you snuggle into his chest just to hear his heartbeat. It lulls you into a state of tranquility as sleep begins to take over, but you can't help but think your deepest thoughts at this very moment. You can't help but expect the worst to come— surely life can't be so serendipitous. It's almost surreal how everything seemed to work out in your favor, but is this really it?

Was this really all it took for you to find happiness?