♡ content: ~1k word count. eren jaeger x fem!reader, free use, established relationship, oops just filth, PIV sex, mentions of aftercare, explicit language, explicit sexual content. reader discretion advised. 18+ only
I don't know about you, but I find free use super hot, and I can't help but think Eren would agree
Like, there’s just something about it, perhaps the devotion aspect—about you, his baby, his one and only, being available, willing, and happy to satisfy him, any time he wished.
Your agreement is meant for nights like this: a Friday evening after what you know was a long week for Eren. He’s been coming home late every night, practically working two jobs while his boss scrambled to fill the newly empty role at the company. For whatever reason, the responsibility fell on Eren, leaving him exhausted, tense. The kind of tense that naps and shoulder rubs can't relieve.
And that’s where said agreement comes into play. Whenever you wear this pajama set, specifically this one—skimpy, sheer, short—it’s code for ‘anything goes.’ Anything he wants. That’s the only rule.
Phrasing it like that makes it sound as though he’s the only one to get pleasure out of it, but that couldn’t be any further from the truth. It’s almost like foreplay, really. This little secret you can't wait to reveal. All day, anticipation bubbled low in your stomach from the moment the idea popped into your head. ‘What would really cheer him up?’ You can already see the look on his face, imagine how desperately he’d take you right then, like he couldn’t bear another second without being inside you, however he wanted.
You’ve been thinking about your husband so much that the creak of the front door opening and closing makes your thighs clench, like you’re no better than one of Pavlov’s trained dogs.
Assuming he’d be late again, you haven’t gotten any further than spreading some ingredients along the counter before you hear him announce himself. But tonight, he’s right on time. Even better.
Eren finds you in the kitchen, already starting his usual ‘work sucked’ rant, when the sight of you has him shutting up. He stops dead in his tracks, just like you’d hoped. He’d undone the first button of his collared shirt, tie loosened around his neck, and he wore this look on his face like you were a welcomed—very, very welcomed—surprise.
Rush hour was a bitch; Eren was too busy white-knuckling the steering wheel to consider this as a possibility for tonight. But then you greet him with that soft smile of yours, the one that would appear innocent to anyone else, and he almost wants to laugh like he should have known better. But you’re like a magnet; he’s only capable of drawing in closer.
He comes to hug you from behind, his hands smoothing down your sides as he holds you close. He nestles his face into the crook of your neck, warming and tickling your skin in a mixture of kisses and faint breaths through his nose.
You’re already spilling giggly moans when you say, “Hi to you, too.”
It’s met with a drunken ‘Hi,’ murmured against your skin between open-mouthed kisses. His hands never slow, enjoying their way over every inch of your body. They slide beneath your tank top and up your front to cup your breasts, squeezing and massaging, rolling your nipples in his fingers until he can pinch and pull flimsy whines from you. With each one, you can feel another of his needy ruts, his cock incredibly stiff against your ass even through his slacks. It only takes a few of those before you’re biting your lip at the metallic rustling of him removing his belt.
Once that’s out of the way, his pants now pooled on the kitchen tile, the only barrier remaining is your sleep shorts. Hardly a barrier, if you ask him; they’re shamefully thin, after all. Perfectly made for pushing aside for easy-access fucking, and you were even considerate enough to forget your panties.
Eren slips a hand between your legs, trailing the tips of his fingers through you. It ignites a shiver through you, has your hips wiggling for more. But Eren isn’t any better. When he discovers how wet you are already, how you probably spent the afternoon fantasizing about being used, it absolutely wrecks him.
Eren licks his hand before returning it to your pussy, rubbing tight circles against your clit. Then, without warning, his fingers only leave you to grab your ass, spreading you for him. His other angles his cock against you before thrusting inside.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he says as he bottoms out. The end of it’s nothing more than a hedonistic hiss, lost in the feeling of you squeezing him, trying to accommodate the sudden intrusion.
Your mouth gapes on a hitched breath, eyes screwing shut as your palms press into the counter in a vain attempt to keep yourself upright. But it only takes another thirty seconds of snapping hips, the head of his cock reaching that ‘don’t fucking stop’ spot deep inside you, before your arms start to stutter.
He pins you to the cold granite with a hand flattened against the middle of your back. It’s soon replaced by him—the weight of his body, the heat of it—against yours as you’re smushed and bent over the counter.
Eren’s hand bullies its way between you and the counter to play with your clit again. He likes it best when you come together, if he can manage it.
And he does tonight. The moment he feels your body twitch beneath him, hears the intoxicating tune of your depraved cries, the steady pounding of his hips falters. As you teeter the peak of your high, your pussy fluttering oh-so nicely around his cock, he comes, hard. You swear you can feel the pulsing of his cock as he fills you, fucking it deeper as he eases himself down.
You’re both trying to catch your breath when you feel him rest his forehead against the sticky back of your neck. He leaves you with a kiss on the same spot before turning your limp body to face him. You’re so tired he thinks it’s cute.
Eren scoops you into his arms. You know the drill, so you loop your arms around his neck and hook your legs around his waist.
Still a bit delirious, that fuzzy, warm feeling still burning in your chest, you say, “I need to make dinner.”
“No, you don’t,” he says, walking you through the house. “We’re ordering in tonight, after I draw us a bath.”
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What does your future spouse look like? — a pick-a-pile Tarot reading ❀
Pinned | Ko-Fi | Other Collective Readings
Non-gendered. Take what resonates, leave what doesn't. There are three piles to choose from:
Pile 1
This person could be around the age of 20-30 when you meet. They have a youthful appearance. They have rather “gentle” facial features and long dark blonde hair. Their eye color could be green. They always look somewhat calm and composed, and their gaze is almost enthralling but soft.
They probably exercise or did it in the past—they seem to care about their physique. They could be 5’2 or 5’5 in height. I feel like their fingers are long. They might wear flowery patterns from time to time and do various hairstyles. They have a small nose.
Cards: Page of Pentacles, The Empress, IV of Swords.
Pile 2
This person could be around the age of 26-40 when you meet. They have blonde hair and seem rather stern at first. They could be 5’7-5’9 in height and have brown eyes. They usually wear more elegant clothing, probably because of their job or because they simply like to appear more “serious” and “official”.
When you get to know them better, you'll notice the gentler and graceful side of their looks. They might have thin eyebrows, a straight nose, and full lips.
Cards: X of Wands, Page of Cups, High Priestess.
Pile 3
This person could be around the age of 28-48 when you meet. They seem to have more mature and/or stern looks. They have long brown or red hair, probably with a few grey ones from stress already. They could be 5’6-5’11 in height and have brown or green eyes.
They don't care about their clothing and how people will see them because of it that much. I think that they like to dress up, cosplay, or play in the theater. They might have a “roman” nose and heavy lower lip. They wear a lot of jewelry.
Cards: King of Pentacles, IV of Pentacles, VII of Cups.
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