Warning: NSFW. Contains graphic depictions of sex.
Historia woke up in the middle of the night. Her body was a little sore, but when she felt Eren slumbering naked next to her, she was both furious and needy. Tied and bound, she was made to shamelessly beg for his cock, was pleasured by him while being prevented from touching him in return.
She turned on the bedside lamp and woke him with a start, taking him by surprise as she knelt beside him, kissing him full on the lips before licking her way down his neck, sucking at the tender skin, biting lightly on his shoulder and then licking his nipples with her warm, wet tongue, her hands kneading the muscles on his chest and abdomen. Soon gentle yet insistent fingers wrap around his growing rod.
Without hesitation she took his penis into her mouth, her eyes looking up at him, flashing a brilliant blue, daring him to stop her. She sucked and licked and stroked his shaft with determination until she was satisfied with his hardness. Straddling his hips, she impaled herself on his cock and rode him hard, her eyes shut tight. She felt him fondling her breasts, lifting his own hips to meet her downward thrust. Every cell in her body was tingling, vibrating, sensitive to the most minute of their movements. She came first, her pussy juices flowing over Eren’s cock. When he was about to come he tried to lift her hips off so he could ejaculate outside of her. But she was having none of it, clamping her body on top of his, forcing him to spurt deep inside her gripping pussy.
And then, again to Eren’s surprise, Historia wouldn’t stop. Mad with an indescribable need, she went on all fours, breasts crushed on the bed, knees apart, ass high in the air. She didn’t say a word but only looked back at him pointedly, her eyes begging him to fuck her from behind. Eren grasped her hips, sinking himself deep into her hungry pussy, pistoning in and out of her. She rolled her hips to buck against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. All she could think of was this insane hunger, this overwhelming need to be filled.
Fuck me, Eren. Harder. Deeper. Fuck me more. Faster. Don’t stop. Never stop. Fuck me until I forget everything. Fuck me until I remember nothing but this ephemeral moment of searing pleasure. Fuck me until I forget I ever felt unbearable sorrow. Fuck me into oblivion. Please, Eren, please…
They fucked wordlessly, the only sounds moaning and grunting and groaning coming from the bedroom that night, along with the smacking, slurping sounds of a rock hard cock slamming into a sopping wet vagina. Eren hunched over her, fingers massaging her breasts and clit as he took her. And there it was again, that incredible orgasm making her entire body convulse. All she could do was weep into the pillow as her body soared and then shattered.
When Historia woke up in the morning she was alone. Panic set in as she started to remember the events of last night. She was a blur as she washed up, cleaned her teeth, put on her clothes, all the while praying that Eren had already left the house. How could she face him now? She felt her mind stabbed by a paralyzing sense of shame and guilt. Last night she was reckless, totally out of control. Not even a woman but simply a wild animal. An obscene bitch in heat. Please let him be at work already. I can’t face him, I just can’t.
She laced up her boots, hurrying as fast as her shaking fingers allowed her. The memories of what she did came crashing in and left her breathless with shock and horror, made her want to get out of the cabin as fast as possible. She had taunted Eren, seduced him, dared him to take her. And when he did, she couldn’t have enough.
Her chest ached at her own cruelty. Because once that line had been crossed, there was no going back. Now that Eren had her body and heart, the agony of dying at just twenty three years of age would be how many times worse? A thousand? A million? Now that she had given him everything, she feared he would love her with a love so strong the requisite pain would be unimaginable, indescribable. How could she hurt him like this? Eren, precious, beautiful, darling Eren.
The door knob turned. The titan shifter came in, dressed and ready for the day. Their gazes meet. Historia’s eyes open wide as she stares at him, absolutely mortified. Her knees give in and she crumples to the floor. Closing her eyes as hot tears of guilt and shame flow down her cheeks, she braces herself, waiting for him to tell her exactly what she was.
Nasty cunt. Ravenous whore. Insatiable slut. Horniest bitch I’ve ever seen, he’d say, telling it to her straight. She felt she deserved it.
She sits on the floor, eyes shut, crying quietly. But he doesn’t say anything. She feels him bend on one knee in front of her. Gentle fingers wipe away her tears, caressing her cheeks, brushing the hair sticking to her forehead.
“Please don’t hate me,” she whispers in anguish.
“I don’t hate you, Historia. On the contrary.”
“I’m sorry,” was all she could say.
He lifts her up, easily, like a child, making her wrap her legs around his hips. “Well, too bad you’re sorry, ‘cause I’m not,” he says as she clings to him.
Setting her down in front of the window, he wraps his arms around her from behind. They stand there, watching the sun appear on the horizon. You mustn’t count, Historia said to herself, you mustn’t count how many more sunrises you can watch together, because the number is so few it will depress you both.
“What do we do now, Eren?” she asks softly.
There is a long pause before he answers, “We’ll love each other, that’s what we’ll do.”
“And then I’ll watch over you from above, and you’ll go on to live a long and happy life.”
She turns around to face him, looks up into his eyes. “I can’t imagine life without you. I can’t stand the thought of being alone again,” she says, all the while hating herself. This was exactly what she had feared: that when they became lovers she would cling to him, refusing to let him go, making it harder for him to accept his fate.
Gazing up at his handsome face, she finds herself gasping softly. It was unmistakable: there was a strange look in his eyes, one she had never seen before. Eren was here in the room with her, his arms around her, but the mesmerizing eyes, for a fleeting moment, belonged to a different Eren, an Eren that had seen both the past and the future.
His green eyes as he smiles down at her were mysterious, knowing, ancient windows to the soul, portals to the wonders of the cosmos. “You know what, I don’t think you’ll ever be alone again, my queen.” And with that he cupped her face in his hands and bent his head to kiss her.
It was only a few years later that she learned exactly what he meant.
Eren continued to see Historia under the guise of memory retrieval. When he and his fellow soldiers had a meeting at the royal palace he’d make up an excuse to be alone with her. They had got very good at it: finding nooks and crannies to hide in, Eren standing up and carrying her effortlessly, petite and lightweight as she was, with her legs wrapped around his waist, and he’d take her up against the wall. When she knew he would visit she made sure not to wear anything cumbersome or heavy, nothing they couldn’t easily get out of the way of their coupling. When he climaxed he hid his face in her hair in hopes that his grunts of satisfaction would be muffled by the thick golden locks. She learned to stifle her cries of pleasure by pressing her lips against his shoulder. Sometimes it was so hard to keep quiet she’d bite into her lower lip and draw blood. This upset Eren, and he’d tell her, bite into my shoulder. I don’t want to cause you injury, she’d tell him. I heal so much faster than you, he’d say.
But their favourite times were, without a doubt, the stolen nights at her country home. Soldiers got two days of liberty every fortnight, and Eren would find some excuse to ‘volunteer’ time at the farm. The two of them would always make a show out of being regular comrades, just a soldier doing chores for his queen, keeping their distance from each other when anyone had them within their line of sight. Then he’d pretend to go home at the end of the day, but make his way back via a secret shortcut to spend the night with her.
Did her household staff know? Perhaps, but many of them were members of the Wall cult, a group who worshipped her family as deity. They kept their mouths shut out of loyalty and fealty, and when Historia went into hiding after she got pregnant, the staff actively covered for the couple without being asked. Did Armin or Jean or the rest of them have their suspicions about Eren’s frequent ‘disappearances’? Whatever they suspected, they kept it to themselves. Their precious titan shifter would always come back from these disappearing acts, and wasn’t that what really mattered, that he’d come back? Who were they to complain?
It was these nights at the cabin that Historia held her most precious memories. The palace quickies were incredible, but couldn’t hold a candle to a real bed, where they could luxuriate in each other’s arms. Eren liked to sleep with his face squashed against her breasts, and she’d hold him in her arms, stroking his head, running her fingers through his dark hair. Sometimes he would drape her naked body over his, like a blanket. When he was in a deep sleep she’d try to roll off of him, not wanting to crush him. But he’d reach out and pull her back up. “Aren’t I heavy?” she’d ask in a whisper. Chuckling with his eyes still closed, he’d say, “You’re featherweight, I could barely feel you on top of me.” And she’d sigh and indulge him.
At the beginning of their relationship the most precious part was getting to know one another.
“Do I please you, Historia?” he’d ask. “Does this feel good for you?”
She always returned the favour. “Do you like it when I do this, Eren? Or would you have me do this instead?”
Years later, when Historia looked back at their Age of Exploration, she would smile fondly in remembrance. How young they’d been, how delightful it was to discover and learn every little quirk your beloved had, the preferences they held, the uniqueness of their pleasure points.
It was during these sweet, tender nights in the afterglow of sex that they’d cuddle, and talk and talk. It was so easy, with each other, and only with. She’d seen him at his worst: transforming from a sanctimonious, self-righteous, preachy kid to a sniveling, self-pitying, whimpering, self-loathing young man inside the Reiss cave, but she refused to choose duty over him, instead she cared about him and saved him. She made him want to become a better man.
Eren, for his part, had seen her go from counterfeit Miss Congeniality, with a forced, gratingly positive personality to an unresponsive, uncaring, apathetic girl who couldn’t give a shit about anyone, including herself, and it was at that moment when she needed to hear it the most that he told her she was being honest and carried the good and bad inside herself, and he was fine by it. In fact, he liked it, seeing her being fully human, with a range of emotions. His acceptance of her helped her become who she wanted to be.
They admired each other, too, innately so. She admired and was even envious of his single-mindedness, the strength of his will. He admired her compassion for orphaned children and the destitute, the way she threw herself into charity work.
After all they’ve been through together, they could tell each other everything and anything, without fear of being misjudged or rejected.
Eren would share stories of his childhood, telling her all about his beloved mother, Carla, the foods she cooked for him, the games she’d sometimes play with him, the songs she’d sing to him.
“When I was a kid everyone in the neighborhood would say how much I looked like my mum, that I was a spitting image of her and as beautiful as her. Absolutely annoyed me! I mean, I was a boy! Wanted to look cool, not pretty. So I snapped at anyone who’d say those remarks in front of me or Mum. ‘I do not look like my mother,’ I’d growl, taking offence.”
“Armin told me Mrs Jaeger was the town beauty, that Hannes had quipped once how half the men in Shiganshina were in love with her, and were vying for her hand,” Historia mentioned.
“There’s truth to that, I guess. When her mother—my grandmother—was alive she told me men used to visit the tavern their family owned and where Mum used to work as a waitress before she got married. They made eating and drinking as excuses to gape at or flirt with her. After she got married and quit to raise a family, there was a drop in the number of regular customers, it seemed!”
“I wish I could’ve met her. She sounds lovely.”
“Yeah, she was. Wish I hadn’t been so hostile when people remarked about our resemblance. Now that I’m bigger and, hopefully wiser, I’d like to tell her, it’s an honor to look like you.”
He not only told her of his regrets, sometimes he’d tell her of his own insecurities and doubts, past and present.
“Really didn’t know what to make of Mikasa being adopted by Mum and Dad. They liked her from the very beginning, and would introduce her as their daughter or my sister to anyone and everyone. Couldn’t think of anything more annoying at the time. There were moments when I wanted to yell, ‘I’m your only child!’ when I felt they somewhat favoured her over me. You know Mikasa, perfect in everything she does. She’d do her share of the chores enthusiastically and do them so flawlessly she always made my work look sloppy.”
“When we were in the academy she told us girls once, that being adopted by the Jaegers was one of the happiest moments of her life,” Historia recalled.
“Yeah, I suppose so,” Eren said with a sigh. “One time Mum and Mikasa were doing embroidery on the porch and this neighbor came over and started praising Mikasa’s stitches. Such precision, such steady hands, she was saying. And then Dad came out, and she said to him, Dr Jaeger, your daughter has what it takes to become a surgeon, don’t you agree? Dad patted Mikasa on the head and smiled saying, she’s brave, clever, hardworking and far from queasy, so she’ll make a good surgeon. Mikasa was grinning up at him, looking so pleased. Saw it and was really pissed. I was like, you bloody goody-goody!”
“She was just really happy to be part of a good family once again,” Historia remarked.
“Yeah, I know. Looking back, guess I’d been rather petty, being annoyed with her all the time. I mean, Mum and Dad were being extra sweet and tender to her not because they liked her better than me, but because she was suffering from the loss of her parents and they wanted to comfort her.”
He told her things he couldn’t tell anyone else.
“Armin drives me nuts. Dunno why he refuses to consider an all-out military solution to the Eldian Problem. All he talks about is diplomacy and multilateral treaties and trade agreements and peace-making and all that useless shit.”
“The alternative is so horrific it’s difficult for anyone with a conscience to justify,” Historia remarked, a note of sadness in her voice.
“Did you know Armin goes to see Annie whenever he can? Talk of fraternising with the enemy! Must be Bertholdt controlling his heart or something!” Eren divulged, grimacing.
“No, I don’t think that’s true,” Historia shook her head vehemently. “Armin had a thing for Annie for the longest time, before he inherited the Colossus Titan. You just didn’t notice.”
“Because I was too preoccupied with killing all the titans?” he asked with a note of self-mockery.
Historia laughed softly, “Yeah, there’s that, I guess. You and Armin were the only ones Annie really ever talked to, in front of others. She seemed to be indifferent to everyone but the two of you. And she returned Armin’s feelings, too, remember? She easily killed her fellow soldiers, even gleefully so, but when she had the chance to kill Armin not once but twice, whilst attempting to steal you away, she spared his life, to her own detriment. From the enemy’s perspective, Armin with his intellect would be considered a dangerous asset deserving of unequivocal elimination. Annie compromised her mission by following her heart and letting him live. She’s far from stupid, so it was something else at work. We don’t choose whom we fall in love with, and that seems to be the case with her as well.”
“You’ve a point,” Eren conceded, sighing. “Can’t really confront him about the visits, either. I mean, he covers for me when I sneak out to see you.”
“Go easy on him, won’t you?” she pleaded. “It must be painful for him, having to hand over the girl he loves to the government, and then being haunted by her crystallised presence.”
Sometimes Eren would whine about his superiors.
“Commander Hange doesn’t seem to like me anymore. To think they used to go gaga over my mere existence as a titan shifter. Doubt they’ll ever forgive me for making Captain Levi choose to give the serum to Armin instead of Commander Erwin. Sometimes I feel like they quite openly despise me” or “Captain Levi’s making everyone drink tea these days, says it’s good for health and stuff. Don’t care for it at all! Doesn’t taste like anything to me.”
But Eren reserved his full loathing and hatred for anyone and everyone who were keen to titanize Historia. “Unbelievable. How dare they? How dare they?” he’d growl, the tremendous anger in his tone unmistakable, brows furrowed as he paced the room bristling with negative energy.
“Eren, come to bed,” was all Historia could say in times like these, their only means of comfort being the momentary respite in each other’s arms.
For her part, she’d tell him amusing stories of her courtiers and her royal duties and all the trials and tribulations of holding court. They’d giggle together, finding bits of enjoyment and entertainment in their day to day routines. Historia cherished these moments, the times when they relaxed in each other’s company and talked about nothing in particular, about matters so insignificant and mundane it was almost laughable. They both knew such ordinariness was not going to last and therefore ought to be savoured.
And nothing, nothing at all could compare to the moments when, before going to dreamland, Eren would cup her face in his hands and look deep into her eyes and say, “I love you, Historia.” She’d smile and stroke his cheek with a finger and say, “I love you, too, Eren.” They’d kiss goodnight and fall asleep, wrapped securely in each other’s arms.
After they decided to become pregnant, and Eren went ahead with his Liberio plan by going AWOL in Marley, they couldn’t see each other anymore. Those were the times when Historia would cry herself to sleep each night, worrying about him, wondering where he was and how he was feeling, if he was feeding and taking care of himself, whether he had the most basic of creature comforts. More than anything, the guilt tore at her from the inside: she knew Eren had gone to such extreme measures in order to protect her.
Historia could never forget that day when, during an important plenary meeting at the palace, it had been assumed that she would willingly sacrifice herself, titanize for the sake of the island. She readily accepted, because what else could she do? It was her family’s curse, something she was unable to run away from thanks to the blood that ran through her veins.
“I’ll do what needs to be done,” she’d said, already resigning herself to her inborn affliction.
But Eren wouldn’t have it. The look on his face that day, the angry, outraged timbre in his voice as he stood up in front of everyone and intoned that such a solution was completely unacceptable to him, was something that was etched in her memories, a moment she would remember with gratitude until the day she died. It was all she could do not to burst into tears.
Eren’s love for her was such that he’d sacrifice everything and everyone just so she wouldn’t have to sacrifice herself to her own children. For him, there was no horror greater than the thought of his anguished, wretched queen cursing her own precious child with the same horrific fate she and her ancestors had had to bear.
“I’m gonna put an end to it all,” he’d told her one night after they made love. He gazed into her eyes and informed her he will cut the ropes that bound her to this tragic fate.
When Historia finally learned of his plan, a plan he had kept from even his closest friends, she was not filled with hope but with an abject horror, an indescribable torment, a suffering so pervasive it brought her to the depths of despair.
“Got a better idea?” Eren had challenged her when she tearfully objected. But her mind completely betrayed her, coming up with nothing, nothing at all. She had been thinking and ruminating and having discussions about it for years and…nothing.
And so she accepted his plan, her heart breaking into a million pieces, made all the more painful with the knowledge that his heart was breaking, too.
Thank you so much for reading! Please take a moment to share a thought or two in the comment section below. Your comments give me life and are a real source of encouragement. xoxo, hana
Next – Chapter 5: Take All Of Me
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