#eren jaeger fanfiction

[theragethatisdesire]

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

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

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

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

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

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

have fun ;)

-

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

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sasha–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

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

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

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

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

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

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

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

“I still need you. Now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

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

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

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

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

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

“Close?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s not my-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I just–”

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

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

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

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

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

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

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

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

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

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

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

#aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren x you #eren yaeger x you #eren yeager smut #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger fic #eren jaeger fanfiction

[fqiryspit]

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅!𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 ! 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒!

eren yeager x fem!reader

cw: pregnancy, car sex, dicking sucking, pussy eating, pregnancy, marriage, children, etc etc

DILF!EREN ! who gets all the moms ovulating when he comes to pick up his baby boy from kindergarten

DILF!EREN ! who fucks you in the car really quickly before leaving for that grueling parent-teacher conference

"w-were gonna be late" you moan into his chest as his hips slap against yours, cock hitting deeper and deeper into you

"whatever, all they're gonna say is he played with blocks and crayons" he chuckled, finding your lips and catching them with a kiss and his thumb rubbing your clit as you cum around his cock.

DILF!EREN ! who has his dick in your mouth and it isn't even 7.

"fuuuck" he groans, watching your lazy eyes lap at his tip which is drizzling pre out, his cock standing on its own as veins pulsate and strain.

your mouth is so wet and warm, mumble about how you wanted him to have a good day at work and just started sucking.

DILF!EREN ! who eats you out mid-day because he's always horny and wants to see you moan and cry for him

DILF!EREN ! just walks up to you, wraps his arms around you and kisses up your neck, and just spews complements daily

"you're so fucking gorgeous" "I don't even know how I got you"

DILF!EREN ! who, after very hard consideration. (he never not thought about it, he was just waiting for you to bring it up) decided that it was time for you two to bring another baby into this world

"wasnt I already doing that?" he says matter-of-factly, grinning into your shoulder as you both lay in bed together

"eren!"

DILF!EREN ! who cries when your baby girl is born, and praises you daily for giving him his son and daughter, he loves you all so dearly and is truly grateful for everything.

#eren jeager #eren smut #eren smut headcanon #eren x reader smut #eren yeager smut #eren yeager fanfiction #eren yeager oneshot #eren yeager imagines #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager fic #eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger imagines #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager imagine #eren jaeger x reader #eren attack on titan #eren aot #aot smut

[lolitakirstein]

Eren Is a horny stoner.

cw: porn, marijuana use, language, stoned sexual activities, and as always POOR EDITING

a/n Was going to make this into multiple characters but the Eren one got away so i'm just going to make it a drabble, might down Jean and Levi, idk

Eren is a Massive stoner. Loves to smoke and listen to music, play video games, and make random food concoctions. He also gets mad horny. Like food isn't the only munchies he has. "Let me eat your pussy," he moans against your neck, his hands already making their way to your pants. "You're high, babe," you tease, knowing damn well that isn't an excuse. "mmmm, just means your little cunt tastes even sweeter." Sober Eren eats you out like a gentleman, with delicate licks, and tender kisses on your thighs. Stoned Eren is a fucking barbariannnn. Ripping your panties off, deeply inhaling the scent of your arousal before diving in. He attacks your clit, already super sensitive thanks to the weed. "Easy, its really intense," you gasp, trying to force his head back a little bit. "trust me," he mumbled against your sopping cunt and inserting his fingers. You throw your head back in bliss. "Oh fuck!" you whine. He growls in appreciation. Fingers crook upwards in your pulsing hole likteralling coaxing a release from you. "Don't hold back," he demands, flicking and sucking your swollen clit. "I c-c cant," you stutter, it feels like you are floating off the bed. "Oh but you can my sweet girl," he coos, his hand never stopping the fast thrusting. "Come!" And fuck do you come, your body convulses, back arching off the bed, squirting against his fingers. You're too blissed out to be embarrassed and he is too pussy drunk to care if you are as he greedily licks up your essence. Once you come back to earth, he kisses his way up your still-sensitive body. "Like that," he says, smirking at how completely spent you look. knowing damn well you loved it

#aot x reader #aot imagines #eren x reader #aot headcanons #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger drabble #eren jaeger imagines #eren jaeger #aot smut #attack on titan smut #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger imagine #eren jaeger fanfiction

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

husband!! eren jaeger headcanons

- looked oh so spiffy in his suit

- absolutely wore his hair up for the wedding (and it looked good asf)

- spent a fortune on that ring of yours

- texts you a sweet ‘good morning my beautiful wife’ message since he wakes up and leaves for work earlier than you

- got you the most stunning bridal bouquet ever

- had a very neutral tone/earthy color wedding

- even though he’s your husband, he’s always thinking of new ways to impress you

- def the type to rip off the garter with his teeth at the wedding

- totally wanted to shove the wedding cake in your face but you told him you’d kill him so he never dared to

- the day after the wedding, he woke up crying softly because he ‘couldn’t believe you were actually his wife’

- feels very accomplished in life all because of you

- committed to being the best husband for the rest of your lives and to being the best father if you ever decide to have children

- after marriage, he becomes sooo dilf even tho ur childless

- never takes his wedding band off, even in the shower

#aot headcanons #attack on titan fanfiction #aot fanfiction #aot smut #attack on titan #snk headcanons #attack on titan headcanons #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren x y/n #eren yeager fanfiction #eren fanfiction #eren headcanons #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren x you #eren x reader #eren aot #eren smut #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager smut #eren jaeger headcanons #eren yeager headcanons #aot fanfic #anime headcanons #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x y/n #snk eren #snk fluff #eren jaeger fluff

[denjjisgf]

untitled 2.03

eren jaeger x reader

SYNOPSIS ✧˚⋆｡ when the end of the semester gets busy, you find yourself swamped with grading papers. if only you could get some time away from your needy boyfriend.

CONTENT WARNINGS✧˚⋆｡ general: 18+ minors dni, (afab) grad student reader nsfw: somno/cnc, m! masturbation, oral (f! receiving), squirting, panty sniffing

W/C✧˚⋆｡ 2.6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE✧˚⋆｡i was thinking about this post while writing it (nsfw gif!!)

finals week on campus is nothing more than the school buildings being powered by stress and caffeine as students and professors scramble to meet deadlines. it’s your final stretch. its been a nonstop course schedules and years of thinking, “is this even worth it?”, but this past year, you were accepted into university x’s graduate accelerated course. you were just a stack of 1st years’ papers and a couple eren-free nights away from graduating.

“i don’t know why i have to suffer when it's your fault for assigning the homework to begin with,” he’s tugging at the hem of your shirt as you pour coffee into a mug. you're both off today- free from classes and work- and situated in the breakfast nook of your “shared” apartment. shared is a loose term the two of you choose to describe your living situation. you find stray socks that don’t belong to you under the couch and he buys new hangers to hang up his clothes in your closet.

“i know, but we both know i'd get no work done with you here. i’m absolutely drowning in my students final papers.” eren separates from your hip to pull open the fridge, grabbing the creamer from the door, "so stay away for just this weekend. please?" he twists the lid off and begins to pour some into your mugs, "what am i supposed to do in the meantime?" he pouts.

he sets the carton onto the counter with attitude, the liquid sloshing as it hits the sides aggressively. with bed head and a frustrated knit of his brows, he looks like a spoiled child, you can't help but laugh, "i trust you'll find something to do with yourself. you're resourceful!"

you hear him huff, unsatisfied and extremely discouraged by your firm stance. he drops it and for the rest of the morning, you two sipped from your mugs and soaked in the sun, tucked under bed sheets.

you didn't hear any lip from eren for the rest of the week. you were honestly shocked- not once has he listened to you so easily, with such little resistance. he had to be up to something, you thought. but you let that worming feeling of suspicion recede into your thoughts and brought your tasks to your forefront. you got a full eight hours of sleep every night for the first time in ages.

on saturday night, you ordered yourself some take out, set up a pillow fort on the couch, and readied yourself to grade the stack of research papers sitting on the coffee table. halfway through the folder, your eyes began to feel heavy, the words blurring and floating off the pages. you had been at it for hours, the sun long set. shifting your work off your lap and onto the floor, you let your head hit the cushion and drifted off to sleep.

you had a key made for eren months ago. he never used it, choosing to pick you up and go home with you on most days, so he never needed it. but on the rare chance, he'd let himself in to surprise you with dinner or tidy up after a long day. tonight, when he slipped his key into the keyhole, he caught his heartbeat in his throat, turning the knob so slowly, urging the hinges not to creak as he snuck into your place.

he knew he wasn't supposed to be here. you had specifically asked him to stay home for the weekend and let you be. but it was saturday and it was late. it had been so long since he spent a weekend alone, in bed, alone, and the tickle that pulled his abdomen tight and made his cock jerk at the thought of you guided him here.

slipping his shoes off, he straightened them along the wall and walked softly to the living room. he smiled to himself, his chest warming with adoration at you curled on the couch. you just looked so cute!

his eyes traced your face, locs of hair framing your sleeping face and the slight open of your mouth puffing sweet exhales. he was in love all over again, like seeing you for the first time, he let the butterflies settle in his stomach. you rolled to your stomach and let one leg roll off the side of the couch.

eren swallowed, this time, his gaze latched to the little exposed skin peeking out from under the blanket. in an instant, he dropped to his knees, crawling to the edge of the couch. his hand skated across pages and he panicked, hoping the shuffling sound wouldn't wake you while he reorganized your work stuff and slid it out of the way.

eren felt silly getting so worked up over your bare leg, like a virgin, his mind raced. he was dizzy on your scent filling the familiar apartment, dizzy from your figure outlined under the blanket, dizzy from the painful ache of his cock. he let his palm fall to his lap, languidly jerking it over his sweats to alleviate himself.

he imagined you waking up, overjoyed to see your boyfriend, not angry at all that he let himself in and started jerking off to you sleeping, and smacking kisses over his face and neck.

after a few minutes, teasing hands dipped below the waistband of his sweats. eren toyed with the idea, taking a sigh as he watched you sleep and pulled his fully hard dick out of its confinement. he dragged his finger to collect the precum beading at his tip and continued to fuck into his fist, trying his hardest not to let the wet squelching stir you awake. he was panting, a fist in his mouth to hold in his weak moans. it had been so long since he'd seen you (not even week), he was dying for your touch, to feel you in his grasp, it was driving him crazy.

so he let himself go closer and pulled the blanket up over your side, carefully, and let it fall off the couch. long abandoning his cock, he let his hands roam your lower body. eren was grateful you were on your tummy, you must've felt him coming, he thought giddily.

he let his hands run along your legs, kissing at your ankles and making his way up. situating himself on the floor and between your legs, his hands made work of dragging you closer to the edge until your knees were resting just over his shoulders and your cunt was at eye level.

his cock bobbed against his abs, red and angry, and his chest hot with desire. he fought the urge to touch himself, if he wanted to jerk off, he could’ve just stayed home! he came here for you, he told himself, he wanted a taste of that sweet honeyed slick you were keeping from him.

he let himself go. he let his fingers toy with your shorts, massaging your thighs under the fabric, letting himself re familiarize with the curve of your ass. curious fingers slid to tug at the fabric and in one swoop, he was freeing you of your pajamas. he slipped them off each leg, his nails dragging against your skin to watch the way you shiver in your sleep.

all that stood in the way was your underwear now. eren sat and admired the wet spot growing between your legs, soaking the fabric. his breath was shaky as he was tried to keep his cool, but it was getting harder for him to want to hold back. you were whimpering with every touch now and eren could feel your skin getting hot.

it was risky taking your shorts off completely, he thought, worried you'd wake up any minute. he was getting bolder with his actions, and you were reacting so well to him, he was sure you wouldn't mind if he took it another step farther. so he planted kisses against your skin, pushing up on his feet to get closer to your clothed cunt. his fingers worked to shimmy the band of your panties lower until the material was slipping off and onto his face.

he let himself breath in the scent, his mind fraying as he pressed your panties to his face. his tongue wet the fabric and he groaned when he finally got to taste you. his hands were still on you, pulling your cheeks apart as he stared with fervor at your tight holes inches away from him. eren knew he was getting rough, a little too rough if he intended on keeping you asleep the entire time.

"you know i can't live without this," he stuck two fingers in his mouth to wet them, then brought them to your pussy messily. he lets them roam without intention; he didn't want you feel good yet, he wanted you so worked up, you needed to feel good. he smiled when you moaned softly at the sensation of his tongue, the warm stripe of his saliva hot as he swallows the sticky precum collecting with every pulse of your pussy.

he lapped up everything you gave him. his fingers worked nonstop, molding your ass between them, pushing his face further between your legs. it's not enough, he was growing tired of waiting, tired of being gentle, and tired of hearing you so quietly moan his name, he needed you to scream it. he moaned when his tongue dipped into your tight hole and you clenched down at the intrusion. your slick poured over his tongue and his eyes rolled at the taste.

"to think you thought you could keep this from me," he groaned as he roughly grabbed you, rolling your plump ass cheeks between his hands, kneading at the fat and landing a harsh slap against it. you jerked awake at the impact, legs locking in fear and eyes foggy with sleep. you tried to get away, squirming on the couch, only to be held tight in someone's grasp. your heart raced and goosebumps raised on your skin, anxious of the situation you were in.

"good morning, sweetheart," he cooed with another smack of your ass.

eren. of course it was him. your body was hot and your head was light, every nerve and sensation focused on eren between your legs. his hand clapped against your ass again, this time harder than the other two and you yelped at the pain. his thumb was circling your clit, each time it dragged down, the pad of it pulled its hood back and sent chills down your spine.

with you now awake, eren felt no need to go gentle on you anymore. he smiled into your pussy and pushed two fingers deep, letting them curve down to caress your g spot. you were grinding down into his hand and stringy drips of slick and saliva made a mess on the couch cushion.

his mind was thick in fog, his vision narrowed on the sweet pull of your cunt as his fingers plunged in and out, deeper in and watched them strain to pull out. his cock was begging to be touched, pleading for eren to snap and shove his length inside of you, but he couldn't tear his lips away, his moans buzzing against your clit and making you tremble.

another slap against your ass, another roll of your hips, and eren was cumming, thick ropes spilling out from his cock and spreading messily on his lower abdomen. his face flushed bright red and he was panting against your pussy, still eating you out while he came. fat droplets dripped onto the carpet below him while he let out whines, his balls drained empty.

but he couldn't stop, he had waited for you all week, and after all you were so stressed, he wanted to be of some use. he winced as he grabbed his softening cock in his hand, jerking it a few times to get himself hard once again. you were grinding along his tongue now, he could tell with each needy drag that you were chasing your orgasm.

"well would ya look at that? all you needed was a little relief- dontcha feel better now baby," he said teasingly, smiling like a fool with every kiss against your ass. his hand was furious as he overstimulated you, the flat of three fingers rubbing your cunt raw in mind numbing circles. each slow drag of his palm, the middle finger catching to hook inside of your hole, slipping in so slightly before pulling out with pressure.

your muscles felt tight, the strain in your calves burned, willing you to collapse into his touch, crying, "stop- mmph- i can't take anymore!" your lewd slick was everywhere, coating his hand, your plush thighs, and left your skin cold as the air hit it. you ached, grasping at straws and for your breath, for any moment to think straight, "e-eren, please," you hiccup. he took his time; slowly, he breathed against your skin and selfishly inhaled your scent.

he plunged his fingers inside of you, long enough to make you throb around them but too short to feel any pleasure, he teased you relentlessly. and he grinned a shit eating smile, lost entirely in the loud squelch of your cunt. he spat on your clit and let his fingers work fast on rubbing circles.

your chest flushed and you felt the familiar coil pull tight in your gut, you were so close, it hurt. eren was all too much, his fingers still dragging against your walls. each pull had wetness spilling from your hole and into his greedy mouth. your legs were about to give out, they were shaking around his head and your back bowed when he pushed you deeper into the couch, his hands coming around your waist to hold you in place.

he could tell you were close, you moans were short and quick as you gasped for air. in the corner of his eye, he could see your hands grasping for stability on the cushion as he finger fucked you to heaven.

he pushed a third finger in and you both moaned at the stretch. a strange sensation filled your womb and you felt your body go cold. your entire body seized up in eren's hands, but he continued his assault, slow strokes of his fingers now faster. your hands shot down to shove his hands away as you came, clear liquid shooting out from you as you cried in pleasure. your mind felt blank as your body went rigid, and eren fought with your fingers to let his own back in your cunt. he desperately craved the feeling of your clenching down on him.

he selfishly swallowed your cum, letting his face get drenched in you. his cock was hard now, again, as you tried to regain your breath. you rolled onto your back and shot him a look of disapproval, "what the fuck, eren?!" still between your legs, he squirmed up from the floor and to lay on top of you.

he pouted and nuzzled his head against your chest. "i just missed you, that's all," he said, his bottom lip pushed out and puppy dog eyes at work. you tossed your head to the side, away from his gaze, and sighed, "still i thought i told you not to come over. don't you ever listen?'

despite your scolding words, you couldn't help but deny you missed your boyfriend. however, he complete disregarded what you said all the time and gets away with it every time! you're weak to his efforts of persuasion. so when you turn to meet his gaze, unfaltering and only full of love, you smile and lean in for a kiss.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren smut #eren jaeger #aot smut #aot fanfiction #snk smut #snk x reader #aot x reader #denjjisgf #eren yaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren jaeger x you #attack on titan #eren yeager

[xanaduclover]

⋆ 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 ⋆ | 𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝒋𝒂𝒆𝒈𝒆𝒓

softdom!eren x female reader

w: after sex, emotional, reader is a little sensitive, crying from the reader, etc.

~ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ~

You were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling dramatically. You were a sweaty mess and the room was hot. Eren was still inside of you as you lay on his chest, trying to catch your breath. He was also trying to breathe but he seemed like he was in much better shape than you.

"You okay?" he asked. His voice was husky. "Yeah.." You said tiredly, you were so out of it that your eyes were almost closing. "Good," he sighed, kissing your forehead. "I love you," you told him. "I love you more." He responded.

"Are you going to stay tonight?" Eren asked you, sometimes you would leave right after you slept with him and this time he wanted to make sure you wouldn't. "Yes." You whispered. He hummed, kissing the top of your head again.

Eren moved so that you both were under the covers. You snuggled up to his side, and rested your head on his shoulder. "You were crying..why?"

You didn't want to admit it, but you were a sensitive lover. You couldn't help it. Every time you and Eren had sex, you would get emotional. Whether it was too good or you just felt so loved, you couldn't control it.

"Just emotional…is all." you trailed off, closing your eyes. "Emotional about what, sweetheart?" Eren asked you. You didn't say anything. "Baby? Why were you crying?" He pressed again.

"I don't know, Eren... it's just that sometimes, I look at you and I see this wonderful man, who takes care of me and loves me. Like no man has had, or ever will."

You paused, looking up at him. "And I just..I don't know..it's stupid.." you whispered, tears coming to your eyes.

"Hey." Eren started, tilting your chin up, "It's not stupid. If you have something to say, tell me. I want to hear what's on your mind." He told you. You wiped your eyes and smiled at him. "I don't know why I'm tearing up, I'm not sad...” I laugh quietly.

Eren smiled down at you. "It’s okay..." He wiped the remaining tears from your face and kissed your forehead. "Now..tell me what's on your mind." He repeated. You thought about it for a second.

"It's just..I never imagined this. Like us, together. I’ve always wanted someone like you. Someone who was gentle with me, but didn't treat me like I was weak..and now that I finally have it..it's hard to believe." You whispered, tracing your fingers along his chest.

Eren nodded, thinking about your words. He wrapped his arm around you and held you closer to him. "Well, you have it. And you always will." He told you. You sighed contentedly, snuggling deeper into his arms. "You had me worried there. l thought I did something wrong." He chuckled.

You both laid there, the light from the moonlight gleaming off of both of your bodies. "Y/n?" he mumbled sleepily. "Yes, Eren..." you whispered.

"Can you promise me something?" he asked you softly. His voice was low and husky, as if he were falling asleep. You looked at him and smiled softly.

"Anything, Eren," you responded.

Eren rolled over and looked at you, caressing your cheek. His eyes were gentle and kind, as always. "Promise me you'll never leave me. You will always be by my side. I don't want to lose you.." You sighed and smiled at him.

"I promise..."

~ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ~

AN - i know it’s short, but i will post longer fics in the future.

#aot #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #attack on titan #eren aot #attack on titan eren #eren jeager x you #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan fandom #eren x reader #eren jeager x reader

[saintkiri]

summary: you felt numb after eren walked through your apartment door. you thought you would never find love again..well..eren wasn’t love. it was everything BUT love. he used you and ended up cheating. you have so many questions that you know you’ll never get the answer to. after a night out drinking with friends..you ended up finding love just outside the door where you watched eren leave.

content warnings: cheating, smut (begging, multiple orgasms, spanking, unprotective sex (wrap it before you tap it!), aftercare) toxic!eren, mentions of therapy, praying to God, anxiety, throw up (?). if i miss anything, lmk :)

wc: 5.6k

author note: …so it’s been 2 years since I’ve actually written and posted something. I meant to post this almost 2 years ago & I promised you guys I would post it & I never did. but, life was crazy and I am still adjusting. Anywhos, don’t expect much from me writing. I am glad to be back even tho I’m not 😭

part one (pls read so this can make sense)

taglist | aot masterlist

When Eren walked past that door, you felt like you lost a piece of you. The last thing he told you made you feel even more stupider than you have ever felt. 

‘The moment I laid my eyes on her, I stopped loving you.’

That sentence kept repeating over and over again. 

You closed the door, and fell. Your back sliding against the door until you were sitting on the ground waiting for the tears to come. But, they never did. You were so numb and shocked, that you couldn’t shed a single tear. 

Your life and emotions relied on him. He made you feel everything you craved. 

It didn’t make sense. He stopped loving you the moment he laid his eyes on someone else. 

What made her so perfect? 

Eren would always made comments saying that you were the girl of his dreams. How could he say all the right things just to cheat? 

You lost track of time, you sat against the door in silence, watching the apartment go from dark to light. You were so numb, you couldn’t sleep. It felt like he drained every emotion out of you with a sentence. All it took was one sentence to change you. 

The memories of you and him kept running pass your thoughts. As you watched time go by, it was as if the ghost of you and him were running through the apartment. It hurt. You remembered all the laughs, all the times where he made your heart feel so warm and full. 

But now, how can your heart go from that feeling over never ending lust to feeling cold and empty?

~~

It’s been about six months since Eren. It’s been hard to say the least. For the first month, you couldn’t even recognize yourself. You couldn’t stop thinking about him all day. It was always either you replaying his last words to you, replaying the argument, or all the times you should have realized he was cheating on you. 

Slowly, you grew. It took you a while to get back up on your feet. It took you a while to get used to a life without him. You never really realized how much you relied on him. Your friends helped you move on and get back to your life. 

You would gradually throw away Eren’s stuff during the first three months. First, it was the pictures and little momentums. You burned and threw out all the polaroids, all the gum wrapper hearts he would make, all the receipts, and every physical memory. It was weird because when you and Eren broke up, you would randomly find those hearts wherever around the apartment. You would keep them in a jar on your dresser, and slowly throughout the relationship, the jar kept getting filled to the point where you needed a new one. After the breakup, when you would find one, you would throw it out. 

Every time you threw one out, a little piece of your heart went with it and you couldn’t explain why. 

The day you finally decided to move on hurt you just as bad as the day Eren and you broke up. You were burning away not only the bad memories but the core memories. The polaroid picture from your first kiss, the rose he got you for your first date, the first movie ticket. Every single physical memory was being turned to ash. Jean and Mikasa helped you light the match and watched everything burn with you. You didn’t cry at first, and you didn’t start crying until they both left. 

You closed the door, thanking them for being there for you..and for pushing you to move on. Although your heart was breaking, you still managed to smile. As soon as the door closed, you were back at the same position you were six months ago. Your back against the door, still somehow wishing that this was just some sick joke. 

Tears were running down your face. You would wipe them just for there to be more. You sobbed in the same position. At this point, it felt like a routine. You would try your hardest to get over Eren, no matter what you would do to get over him, the memories haunt you. 

Slowly, you stopped crying. You don’t know how long you sat there, it could have been minutes or hours. You eventually stood up, then you walked to your kitchen as if nothing happened. The first thing you grabbed was to go to your cabinet to get a glass when suddenly you heard someone talking on the phone outside of your apartment. The voice sounded familiar, it was deep yet somehow smooth. 

You put down the glass and walked back to the door. You then looked out of the peephole to see Jean sitting on the ground across from your apartment. Your eyes widened slightly, wondering why he was there. You opened the door, seeing Jean’s facial expressions. He looked tired, concerned, mad, everything you were feeling right now. 

“Jean?” You say softly, while you were watching Jean slowly get up. He walked towards your door not saying much. But yet, the silence says it all. “H-How long were you sitting there for?” You opened the door some more to let him in. “Just long enough so I know you stopped crying because of him.” Your heart dropped. 

How long has he been doing this? That was the first question that came to mind. You were having mixed emotions right now. How were you supposed to feel? Although your heart felt somewhat warm, you were also feeling untrustworthy. 

Jean walked to your dining table and leaned against it. He then crossed his arms. You walked to your kitchen, "Do you want something to drink?" It was the least you offer, especially since he was sitting outside for who knows how long. "Do you have any alcohol?" He joked, and a small chuckle left your mouth. You grabbed another glass, then walked over to your counter to grab some alcohol.

You opened the bottle, then poured some for you and Jean. You handed Jean his glass, "Why do you wait?" You asked while taking a small sip. Jean stayed quiet, most likely trying to think of an answer. There was this moment of awkward silence. 

Before you and Eren started dating, you and Jean were best friends. You and him have been friends for years, but when Eren came along, your friendship changed. Eren became possessive and toxic. He didn't like how close you were with Jean. So eventually, you stopped talking to Jean. 

But, when you and Eren broke up, Jean came running to be right by your side. Although you and Jean stopped talking, Jean never stopped wanting to protect you, he never stopped watching over you, and never stopped loving you even after seeing you with another man. 

Jean has had feelings for you since he met you. There's always been this little spark between the both of you. Eventually, that spark grew to be something more. He always tried to protect you. He would try to tell you what Eren was doing behind your back but you wouldn't listen to him in fear of Eren seeing you two together. 

"I wait because I'm worried, y/n." 

"Why are you worried, Jean?"

Jean took another sip of his liquid courage and walked towards you. You walked backward until you reached the counter. "Because you were crying over a man who didn't deserve you." Jean softly confessed. Your heart skipped a beat. Slowly, your eyes locked with Jean's hazel eyes. His expression was gentle with a mix of protectiveness..and a mix of love. "Then who deserves me?" You responded, feeling a rush of emotions come over you. 

Your heart started racing as Jean leaned in closer to you. Was it the alcohol? Was it the fact that Jean is right about you getting over Eren? 

Jean's hands were placed on top of the counter, cornering you. His right hand found its way to your hip. His lips inched towards yours, “You deserve someone who takes your breath away every time you look at him. Someone who makes you laugh, smile, feel every emotion that Eren didn’t.” Your eyes lock with his, feeling his breath against your lips. “I-I’t’s you..” You whisperingly confessed. Suddenly, he kissed you with passion, feeling sparks fly. Your noses bumped into each other as little giggles left your mouths. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. His lips tasting like the alcohol you were just drinking a moment ago. Your lips move with his, for the first time in what felt like months, this was the kiss you've been dreaming of. The kiss that makes you feel like you're on cloud nine, the kiss that makes time go by slowly, the kiss that makes all the others seem non-existent. 

You felt Jean's hands pick you up and place you on the counter, "Are you drunk?" You asked as his lips found their way to your neck, gently kissing and leaving hickeys. Jean stopped his movement, as a small smile spread on his face. The smile you missed, the smile you practically dreamt of, the smile that never failed to make you smile. "No." He answered, as he slowly dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, "Are you?" He asked in return, you nodded, not knowing how to respond. 

Jean's free hand moved towards your buttoned pants, "No answer?" He asked with a sly smirk on his face. Your mind went blank. His fingers played with the button as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, "I'm going to ask one last time, y/n. Are you drunk?" You coughed out a response, "N-No. No, I'm not, Jean." A laugh left his mouth. 

"Good, because I don’t want our first time to be while you're drunk." He whispered again. Just like that, his lips were on yours. This time, that once soft kiss was now a kiss full of meaning. You don't know what came over yourself...and right now you weren't thinking about that. You were thinking about how soft his lips were, how his lips were on yours, and how you felt at that moment. 

Jean picked you off the counter, and for a moment, all emotions that you had left for Eren had left your mind and all you can think about was Jean. 

That kiss made you realize one thing. 

It's always been...him. 

It's always been Jean since the first day you laid your eyes on him. You were blinded by Eren. You were blinded by the fact that a very popular guy finally chose you. You were wrong..and now you want to spend the rest of your life making it up to Jean. 

As he walked into your bedroom, your legs were wrapped around Jean's waist. He gently placed you on the bed, his lips finally leaving yours for a split second, "Finally, you're mine." You could cry with pure happiness. It was the happiness you never felt with Eren..but only with him. 

You gave him a small and gentle peck, whispering softly, "Finally." You both smiled as you went back to kissing. His lips never left yours. If they did leave yours, they would end up moving and peppering kisses on your neck, as he slowly ripped away each item of clothing off of your body. 

The tip of his index finger teased the top of your panties. You roll your hips, "J-Jean.." You moaned out softly, hoping he would get the hint. A sly smile grew on his face, chuckling slightly at how much you were begging for him. "God, y/n." He whispers in your ear as his lips move at a slow rate.

His fingers inch more and more towards where you wanted him to touch you most. You were getting impatient, all you wanted was to feel him. You moved your hands when suddenly Jean pinned them above your head. 

The sexual tension was so thick. As much as he wants to fuck you, he wants to take his time. 

Your eyes meet, "Please touch me, Jean." You begged. His eyes read yours, and that's when he lost all control. Fuck taking his time, he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. He moved his hand from pinning yours to taking off your panties. 

It all happened so fast. One moment Jean was taking his time, devouring you inch by inch, finally getting what he's been dreaming of since he realized he had a crush on you. 

Jean moved to the edge of the bed, and in one sudden motion, your thighs were wrapped around his neck. His lips peppered kisses on your inner thighs, moving closer to your aching clit. 

He flatted his tongue and in one lick, he had you melting and moaning his name. That one moan sent him over, he wanted to hear you say it over and over again. This moment will be embedded in his brain for who knows how long. 

Your fingers brush through his brunette locks, highly tugging at the roots, "Fuck, Jean." You moaned out as Jean's tongue circled your clit, making your mind and body melt. You felt his fingers add into the mix, moving slowly, pressing against the spot that makes you lose control. 

He was in between your legs, lewd noises were the sound that was echoing in the room, pleads, begs, screams and moans.

His long, slim fingers thrust into you, making you moan louder and louder. Jean was loving the way your moans sounded. It was like music to his ears. 

Over and over again, you were chanting Jean's name. It was every time he hit that spot, you would scream his name in pleasure. 

Jean replaced his tongue with thumb and admired the view ahead of him, "God, you're so fucking hot, y/n." He said as your eyes met with his. A sly smile spread on his face while watching your reaction to his compliment. Your lip slid between your teeth, trying your hardest to hold back your moans.

He replaced his thumb back with tongue, and your head fell back onto the bed, feeling his tongue explore your cunt again.  Your hands then roamed your body, finding their place over your mouth. You then began to slightly ride his mouth.

A familiar feeling began to stir in your stomach. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your toes curled, feeling his finger movements begin to speed up. 

You were speechless, you couldn't spit out a word, it felt that good. Finally, you spit out the words, "W-Wanna cum, so-so bad." Jean sped up his movements, moving his mouth off of your core, then crawling in between your legs, moving up until you were face to face. 

His fingers didn't stop moving as he kissed you. Your moans were muffled by the kiss. "Cum on my fingers, y/n." He didn’t have to tell you twice. You came on his fingers, and instantly, your legs started shaking. 

Jean got off the bed, and you held yourself up with your elbows, watching him pull down his boxers, and your jaw instantly dropped. His dick was big, probably the biggest one you've seen. He was mesmerized by your reaction to his size. 

Your eyes locked with his as you sat up. You grabbed his arm and immediately pulled him into a kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling Jean slowly spreading your legs. 

His lips left yours for a split second, "Are you on the pill?" You nodded, "Are you clean?" You asked as his hand inching towards your aching cunt. He nodded, kissing you back in response. 

"Good, now I want you to beg for it, y/n." You smiled slightly because thought he was joking. You wanted him obviously, your body was practically begging for him. The tip of his dick teased your sensitive clit, and a quiet moan left your lips.

You lifted your hips, trying to get more out of him. Your smile disappeared when you realized he wasn't kidding, he was dead serious. You looked into his eyes, and his sparkle was gone. 

"P-Please." you said desperately. Jean raised his eyebrow, "That's all you got? C'mon, y/n. Your body is practically begging for me..." His lips inched towards yours, "But, I want to hear you beg for my cock." His words hit straight to your core. "Please, Jean. Please fuck me. I-I want you so-so much." 

Jean chuckled as he moved the tip of his dick in between your folds, “Where do you want it, princess?” He said as he kept teasing your aching cunt. You buck your hips against the tip of his cock, begging for some sort of friction. You look up and all you see is his desperate eyes on yours. “I want you to fuck me with your cock.” He chuckles, “Good girl.” he praised, and in one swift motion, he finally slid into your cunt. You both moaned. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and the bottom of your lip slid in between your teeth. 

He bottomed out, hitting the spot that made you scream his name. With each thrust, came a moan. "F-Fuck, Jean!" You said as he pounded his cock into you. 

You dug your fingers into his back, slowly moving them up, making sure to leave a mark. Jean inhaled sharply, "So fucking t-tight, y/n." Jean said as he kept bottoming out into you, hitting your g-spot over and over again. 

Jean's lips found their way to yours, the kiss was deep. It was almost like he was trying to devour you as if you were his last meal. Although the kiss was deep, it had a meaning. You were his, you belonged to him. And, you were okay with that. Jean moved his lips from your throat and then moved to his next position. He grabbed your ankles and placed them on his shoulder, hitting your g-spot at a different angle. 

He kissed your ankle as he kept pounding into you. The view in front of you looked so hot. He was hitting all the places that made your mind go blank. “Fuck.” Jean moaned. His moans made you want to exploded right then and there. He moved your legs and by habit you wrap them around this waist. 

“This pussy was made for me, y/n.” Jean expressed in the nook of your neck, peppering kisses, sucking softly. Your fingers raked through his locks, lightly tugging. “J-Jean..harder.” You begged. You wanted him to fuck you like no other could. You wanted him to make you forget about Eren. 

His thrusts slow down making you whimper. Jean flips you on your stomach, “Grab onto the headboard.” He demanded. You wrap your fingers around the cold metal bars, “Please.” You begged. Jean chuckled as you felt his dick slam into you again. You practically scream, feeling the bed shift slightly. Jean’s hands find their place in your hair. His finger wraps around your hair, making a make-shift ponytail, tugging at your roots. You moan feeling his dick hit a new spot from the new position he has you in. 

You suddenly felt a harsh slap on your ass, you wince from he pain..but, you wanted more of it. Sounds of slapping skin fill the room, “Keep milking my cock, y/n.” You clench around his cock with every thrust. 

You could feel your orgasm building up, feeling Jean’s hand leave your hair, then snaking to your clit. “You gonna’ cum, princess?” You nod, not being able to find the words. You felt another harsh slap on your ass, “Words.” He warned. Jean’s movements on your clit made your toes curl, making you moan loudly. 

“Yes, I-I need to cum..so so bad.” You felt his thrust fasten, knowing he was close too. He instantly flips you over again, feeling his lips on yours. You wrap yours around his neck, “Cum for me, princess.” That’s all it took. Your legs started trembling as your orgasm unraveled. Jean emptied his load into you, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

His lips found yours again as he pulled out. This kiss was different. This kiss felt like you were home..with him. 

Jean’s lips left yours as he got up and walked to your bathroom, leaving you absolutely speechless. You couldn’t believe that just happened..but yet, you were so glad it did. You turn your head to see Jean in the bathroom, running a washcloth under some water. 

Eren never did aftercare. He would just fuck you, and leave you hanging. Most of the time, you didn’t even finish..it was always about him finishing, his pleasure before yours, and that’s when your handy vibrator came into your life. Looks like you wouldn’t be needing that anymore with the way Jean just fucked you. 

You thought sex like this belonged in porn.

Jean walked out of the bathroom smiling, “What are you smiling about?” You questioned him as he bends your still trembling legs. He kisses the top of your knees as he cleans your most sensitive area, you wince feeling the washcloth on your clit. 

“You.” It was a simple one word..but, it made your heart melt leaving your very dirty thoughts behind. His fingers find your clit again, as that smile turned into a sly smirk. You moan, “Jean.” You warned softly, as he rubs it slowly.  His fingers slip into your hole, “Just cleaning you out.” He says, as his fingers hit your g-spot. Your hand wraps around his wrist, “Do you want me to stop?” You shaking your head, never wanting him to stop. 

He continues his movements, your legs squeezing together as his long, slim fingers continue to pump into you. You could feel your orgasm bubbling up. “Let go for me, princess.” And that’s all it took for your third orgasm to unravel, leaving you in a moaning mess. 

His fingers left your cunt as his eyes locks with yours. He licks his fingers cleaning, “Now, I’m actually going to clean you up.” A giggle leaves your mouth as you feel the washcloth sliding over your skin again. You could get used to this. 

You started thinking about life with Jean. “So, now what happens?” You ask out of curiosity. You were absolutely terrified of losing him. You didn’t know what was going to happen. Were you guys going to pretend this didn’t happen? Were you guys going to start a life together? Were you guys going to stay as friends? You had so many questions that were fueling your anxiety. 

He stops his movements, looking at you, “I said that I was never going to let you go, y/n. You’re mine.” Tears start to form in your eyes, “Losing you to Eren was my biggest mistake, I should have never let you go..I felt like I hurt you. If I would have kept pushing you, and telling you everything he was doing behind your back, I thought I would have lost you permanently.” He stands up and walks across the room, throwing the used washcloth into the hamper. Then walking towards the bed, laying next to you. He places his hand on your cheek, “I will never ever let you go..And I mean it. I will spend all this lifetime and the next proving it to you.”

As a tear escapes your eye, Jean’s thumb catches it, “Why are you crying?” And suddenly, there were more tears..too many tears for his thumb to catch. You roll over, placing your head on his chest. “I’m sorry.” You say in the midst of a broken sob, Jean doesn’t say anything, he just caresses your head and lets you cry. 

You wrap your arm around his chest, hugging him so tight, as if he was going to leave went you woke up. All this time, Jean waited for you. For all the years that you were with Eren, Jean was there waiting to help you when he left. 

The day that Eren left the apartment, you called Jean, and he ran to your apartment. You didn’t know who else to call, you wanted the one person who knew how to comfort you, your best friend. Jean helped you through all the stages of your break up. He was there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, he was there when you couldn’t find yourself. And now, here he was yet again, being the shoulder you cried on. 

“It should have been you, Jean.” You said through the soft sobs, “It shouldn’t have been Eren, I should have never been with him..it was supposed to be you.” Jean kissed the top of your head, comforting you. 

Jean kisses the top of your head, as you looked up at him, “Now we can make up for lost time.” His lips inched towards yours, “Starting now.” His lips connected with yours. 

This is what loves feels like..and it’s how it should have been from he start. 

Jean is your forever.

Jean is the missing piece to your broken puzzle.

Jean is the person you prayed to God for everyday instead of Eren. 

Jean is your other half. 

____

2 YEARS LATER:

“Here’s to your last day being engaged!!” Mikasa exclaimed as she jumps into your arms. You were out for brunch with all your girlfriends, celebrating your last day being an engaged woman. You never thought this day would come. 

Jean ended up proposing a year ago..and it was so romantic. You both knew you wanted to get married. Jean wanted it to be a surprise though. He had taken you to a romantic restaurant..which would have been very cliche of him. You and him would always joke about the cliches. He knew you wanted everything but the cliches. 

He ended up getting on one knee when you least expected it. He wanted to catch you off guard. You and him were going house hunting when he proposed. You guys were looking at a house and the moment you step foot into it, you saw your life with Jean flash before your eyes. Every corner you turned, you could imagine kids running around. When you went into the kitchen, you saw family dinners..just the thought alone brought tears to your eyes. 

It was when you guys walked into the backyard when you looked Jean in the eyes and told him exactly how you felt. That was your forever home, the place where you wanted to grow old and gray with Jean, the place where you wanted to start a family..that was where your future was. You turned around for a split second and when you turn back to face Jean, he proposed. 

You didn’t even let him finish talking. You knew you wanted to marry Jean for years. Even before Eren. 

Even after a year of him proposing to you, you still think about every single word Jean said. He said the same exact thing you were thinking while walking through the house. His dream was your dream. 

The wedding was around the corner and you couldn’t wait. It was going to be a small wedding. You and Jean just wanted something simple. You both agreed that the memories were more important than the big wedding. 

As you, Mikasa, and the rest of your friends leave after drinking one too many mimosas, you accidentally bump into someone. You instantly apologize, looking up to see the man who broke you in ways you thought couldn’t be fixed. This was the actual time you bumped into him. “Y/N?” Hearing your name leave his lips sounded like poison. It’s the one voice that still haunts you. 

You started to feel sick, feeling bile rising up your throat. His eyes inched towards your taken hand. You couldn’t find words. There were so many things you wanted to say..but, it wasn’t worth your time. Jean helped you move on, he put you back together when you couldn’t find the pieces. Eren took a piece of you that you were still trying to find..even after all these years. You slowly back away, calling out his name once. 

You walk past him linking your arm with Mikasa’s, “I’m sorry.” The two words stop your movement, you turn around for a split second, feeling Mikasa giving you and encouraging squeeze. “You’re not sorry, Eren. You never were..you ruined me. Y-You used me, cheated on me, fucking tore my heart into pieces.” You walked closer to him, “You don’t get to apologize, you piece of lowlife scum, I hope you rot.” 

Before he could say another word, you turned away linking your arm with Mikasa’s. You feel good. A smile spread on your face, “You feel good, y/n?” You nod, feeling a sense of relief fuel your veins. 

You never really got closure and that was something you struggled with for the longest. You still don’t understand why he cheated on you. The countless therapy sessions helped for a short period of time. But, this is your closure. You said what you said, and you feel good. This is what you needed to open the next chapter of your life. 

As you walk into your stunning house, you were immediately greet by the newest addition to your family, Remi. She’s a french bulldog you and Jean adopted when you moved into the house. She lights up your world. You and Jean are so grateful for her. After greeting your pup, you were greeted by your fiancee. 

You give him a soft kiss, feeling his hands on your waist, instantly feeling like you’re home. “How was brunch?” A smile spread on your face as you take off your coat, “It was a lot of fun! I wish you were there though.” You said as you were taking off your heels. 

“Yeah, I wish I went too. Connie is having a late dinner later to have a pre-celebration for tomorrow.” You roll your eyes with a smile, “Make sure you don’t drink too much, Jean.” A chuckle leaves his throat, giving you another kiss on the cheek. 

As you both walk towards the kitchen, you were thinking about how to tell Jean about your interaction with Eren. 

He opens the cabinet when you broke silence, “I bumped into Eren.” 

Jean turns around, placing both of his hands on the counter, “What happened? Did he do anything?” You shake your head, as a small smile spread on your face, “I got closure, Jean. I feel good.” You went onto telling him what you said and you both ended up laughing. You don’t have a mean bone in your body. So, telling him what you said made the both of you laugh. 

“I’m proud of you, y/n.” The four words made tears run down your cheek. Yet again, even after all these years, Jean is there to catch every single tear. “I’m glad you finally got the closure you’ve been searching for.” You wrap your arms around his waist, “Me too. I feel like I can let go of that chapter of my life.” 

Tomorrow was the start of a new chapter. 

Although you know your next chapter won’t be picture perfect, you were okay with that. As long as you had Jean on your side, you knew that it would be your version of picture perfect. And, that’s all you needed. 

__

As you’re walking down the isle, you think about everything you (and Jean) have been through to get to this moment. 

In a sense, you were grateful that everything happened, because it led you here, marrying your best friend, and you couldn’t imagine life go any other way. Jean has taught you that love is real, you just have to find the right person. Life has a funny way of showing love, it’s like a road to describe it the least. 

Life and love are both bumpy roads, there’s all these bumps, cracks, unexpected turns, things that get in your way. But, once you get past that, the road is smooth and clear. 

Today, you’re marrying your soulmate, your other half, your best friend, & you couldn’t wait to finally be Mrs. Kirstein. 

Jean didn’t lie when he said you were his. Since that day, he never left your side. He was there for everything. Every doubt, every cry, everywhere you least expected him to be. 

The six words you’ve been waiting for years for finally approached, “You may now kiss the bride.” Jean kissed you like your life depended on it..just like the first time he kissed you. The kiss that makes you feel like you're on cloud nine, the kiss that makes time go by slowly, the kiss that makes all the others seem non-existent. 

“I told you, you were always mine, y/n.” He whispered against your lips. A bright smile spread on your face. It was just you and him. You zoned out the crowd, as if time was going in slow motion. You stare into his eyes and see your future. You place your thumb under his eyes, collecting the tears that he’s always done for you. 

Inching your lips towards his, feeling the same emotions as his. You whisper, “Forever and always yours.”

The end. 

🏷️: @betterwinter @moonlight445sblog @linglingisyutabiased @takspv @imaninfjbiherself @levisstainedunderwear @cafesho @Unicornlover25 @mocha-focha @Mochaxfocha @szna @yeagerfushiguro @twiixiies @haitanihime @Crazytyphoon @the-sun-baby

Finishing note: thank you so much for all the love in broken promises! It’s been two years since I posted it and it’s still one of my favorites. I am very happy with how it ended. There were some bits and pieces in here that I took from my actual life. Remi is true!! She’s my baby🫶🏻..plus some breakup scenes were from my breakup😭. Anywhos, I hope to be able to get back into writing soon :)

#eren jaeger x reader #aot fluff #aot imagines #jean aot #aot drabble #eren aot #aot x reader angst #aot x reader #aot smut #jean kirschtein imagine #jean x reader #jean smut #jean x reader smut #jean x you #jean x y/n #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren x fem!reader #snk jean #jean attack on titan #jean kirsten smut #jean kirstein x reader smut #jean kirschtein fluff #jean kirschtein x reader #aot angst #eren angst #toxic!eren #eren x y/n #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader angst

[emepe]

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: A simple dinner party leads to new relations. Eren Jaeger can't keep his eyes off of you.

— Content warnings: mentions of murder, alcohol consumption.

— Notes: I'm so excited to post the first chapter to my new series. I've been wanting to write again for two years now and I finally got hit with inspiration. This is a little different from my usual stuff, but I hope you'll like it. A special thank you to @dreamy-jaeger​ for beta-reading <3 Happy reading, bubs!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

at first sight

Nobody ever said anything about the desperate cries that could be faintly heard from one of the units in Sina Park. Then again, the surrounding houses were occupied by people well into the age when sound just doesn’t reach them as well as it did even just a few years back.  

Sina Park was known for being a peaceful area. With its small and painterly identical houses, and its gardens full of color and floral aromas, it was a picture-perfect community. It wasn’t embedded into its terms to remain strictly as senior-only housing but the great majority of its residents certainly gave off that idea to any outsider. It was to the point where it came as a surprise for one to find out there was someone under the age of sixty living there. But everyone in Sina was well acquainted with each other, and friendliness was practically the norm between every carefree neighbor. 

That was probably why Mr. Shadis didn’t bat an eye when he was enjoying a cup of tea on his front porch and he saw the youngest of the Sina community step out with a duffel bag that was promptly thrown into the trunk of his car, the same night silence reclaimed its territory in Sina Gardens. 

“A bit chilly tonight, eh Fred?” Mr. Shadis asked from his side of the street, raising his hand in greeting when he saw his neighbor walk out.

The young man tossed a boyish smile toward his elder while reciprocating his wave. 

“Just a bit, Mr. Shadis. You probably shouldn’t be out much longer or you’ll catch a cold,” he replied, still smiling as he slammed his trunk shut and smoothly tossed his car key in the air with his left hand, catching it swiftly with his right. 

“Me? What about you?” Shadis teased.

“I’ve still got good bones,” he joked to which Shadis clicked his tongue, feigning hurt feelings as he shook his head.

“You be careful on the road now, eh Fred?” he said, watching the young man disappear into his car, his hand lagging behind to wave goodbye.

The car peeled slowly from its driveway, out of Sina Park, and onto the main road. As the speedometer needle trembled between steady numbers, music flowed softly through the car’s speakers, barely loud enough to disguise the disgusted voice that murmured “That’s not my name, you stupid fuck.”  

The early autumn breeze pins your skirt against your thighs and playfully tussles your hair as you hurry toward the bakery on the corner of the street. You’re welcomed by the pleasant jingle of the bell above the door, as well as Kuchel’s warm interior that puts a stop to the outside’s disturbances on your clothes. 

A slight impatience consumes you as you wait for your turn to order, but you try to keep your booted feet from tapping against the hardwood floor and settle for tapping your fingers on your wallet as you try to assess the available baked goods from your spot in line. There’s a variety of sweet and salty treats — from jumbo oatmeal cookies to pain au chocolat to rolls — but you’ve only got a single thing in mind. A breath of relief escapes your lightly chapped lips when you get close enough to see a neatly stacked pyramid of lemon bars in the display, and a second one after you have a box of them secured in your hands minutes later. 

A satisfied smirk tugs lightly at your lips as you allow yourself to admire the neatly packaged treats. As you make your way to the door, the bell dings, pulling your attention from the box and saving you from clumsily bumping into the man who just walked in. The exchange is brief; he quickly apologizes for the avoided accident and holds the door open for you with a shy smile. 

You don’t reciprocate his warm smile but opt for politely nodding in acknowledgment and thanking him for the gesture before hurrying out the door, not wanting to prolong his act of kindness more than necessary. You take a sharp turn toward the nearest bus stop, completely oblivious to the lingering pair of emerald eyes that steal one last glance at you from inside the bakery. 

Once again, the wind teases your hair until it finds itself locked out by the shutting door of the bus you settle into. Your hand dives into your purse to retrieve your earbuds as soon as you find a seat, yet no music plays throughout your journey. The box from the bakery remains safely in your lap, the contents being lightly jostled now and then when the bus stops to pick up more passengers.  

From the bakery to the bus and for the twenty-minute commute, you go over the names of the people you’ll be meeting in your head. 

It’s not often that you get invited to a coworker’s housewarming party. It’s not often that you form a friendly relationship with a coworker. In fact, it’s not often that you engage with someone at all unless it’s for work or other impersonal things. But Armin Arlert’s nice. Despite being the kind of person who can’t seem to let the purposely lonely be lonely, you’ve taken a liking to him. 

His friends, you think, might be a different story. It’s not that you expect them to be dreadful people, but socializing has never been your scene. You can be pleasant, laugh at jokes, and perhaps even throw one out yourself, but it’s not in you to pursue deeper connections. You’re more at ease keeping to yourself and observing if anything. However, the hopeful look on Armin’s face during your lunch break last week, when he insisted he wanted you at his party, has been popping up in your head at all hours so you feel as though you have no choice but to go beyond your standard pleasantries.  

Your plan for surviving the evening is simple. Get there a few hours early so you can help cook, clean, or anything else Armin might need help with before his friends arrive. Partly because that’s what your altruistic nature steers you to do, but also because you’re hoping you can get a refresher course on what Armin's friends are like so you know what to expect and how to act. If they’re all friends of Armin, maybe it’ll be worth it for you to put some genuine intention behind your courtesies. After all, being friends with Armin hasn’t been difficult so far. You dare to even call it nice. Maybe it’s time for you to make at least one more friend.

Armin’s kitchen is bustling with energy as he and his friends move from one spot to another, swiftly keeping out of each other’s way in perfect sync to finish dinner preparations. 

“I still can’t believe every single one of you bought me a candle… and the same one to top it all off,” Armin shakes his head in amusement, his mind recalling the small cluster of ocean-scented candles he left on the living room coffee table. 

Despite his constant assurance that he’d take full responsibility for the food and drinks — he was the one to bring up the idea of a housewarming party first, so it only made sense —, all of his friends arrived little by little before noon to help out with the cooking. First was Mikasa who, as soon as Armin opened the door, handed him the gift bag with a smile, congratulating him on the move and saying she hoped her present would help make the place a little cozier.   

Then came Connie and Sasha who, despite being roommates, failed to coordinate their gift choices and only realized they bought the same thing when Armin opened Sasha’s bag first and Connie’s jaw dropped in absolute horror. It only got funnier from there. Jean barely stuck the carefully wrapped gift box toward Armin when Mikasa muttered under her breath “It’s a good day for candle sales”. 

“Well, you like candles, and the ocean is pretty much your brand, dude. Don’t blame us.” Jean shrugs, not bothering to peel his focused gaze from the carrots he’s grating. 

“The last time I even talked about the ocean I was, like, fifteen. Almost ten years ago!”

Everyone knows Armin loves the long-term supply of ocean-scented candles, and what may seem like complaints to outsiders is just another bit they’ve all dragged on from their youth.

But Connie still seems a bit lost. His hands pause from sprinkling rosemary leaves on the potato wedges Mikasa neatly laid out on a baking tray.

“So you’re not fucking with the ocean anymore?” he asks with an uncharacteristically serious expression that causes Jean to sputter a laugh before disguising it as a cough. 

“Ignore them,” Sasha prompts, rolling her eyes. Her lips then stretch into a suggestive grin. “Tell us about the girl you invited over. Before she gets here, you have to tell us for real this time, are you into her? Do we need to talk you up? I’m the best wingwoman, Armin. I will make her love you even if it kills me.” Sasha’s hands fall heavily onto Armin’s shoulders as if to back up her conviction.

Armin furrows his brow in mild exasperation. This was the second time he’d been harrowed with that string of questions, which didn’t seem like much, but it took a while for him to get his friends to drop the topic the first time around. He shakes his head and peels Sasha’s hands from his form, fixing them firmly at her sides.

“I already told you it’s not like that. And I don't think human sacrifice is needed, Sash. We’re friends. I just want her to meet you guys… and Eren, of course.”

Nobody picks up on the short pause before Eren’s name or Armin’s sly expression that he’s quick to hide by turning to face the sink.

“She’s a bit quiet but she’s really nice. I think she’ll be a nice addition to our group. You’ll like her, I promise. Just go a little easy, okay?” Armin pauses as he tugs on a pair of dishwashing gloves to whip around one last time. “And don’t say anything weird! I swear I’m telling the truth.”

“Okay,” Jean replies in a sing-songy voice. Armin turns to shoot him a threatening look upon hearing his teasing tone, only to find Jean pointing a stern finger in his direction, “But if you change your mind, I got you, bro.” 

Armin only smiles in response, not willing to spare any more breath in correcting him, and starts washing the dishes. Before he can finish scrubbing the bowl in his hands, the doorbell rings and he rushes to pry himself free from his dishwashing gloves before heading to the intercom, glancing back to make sure everyone is still keeping busy.

“It’s me,” a slightly fuzzy version of your voice comes through the speaker. 

He buzzes you in immediately and steps into the hall to wait for you.

When he sees you round the corner, his face breaks out into a grin. 

“Hey, you made it!”

Your lips quirk into a small smile. Armin makes way for you to step inside.

“I thought I could get here a little early to help you with the food. I hope that’s okay.” Your voice trembles a bit at the end, and you start to worry when you realize Armin’s grin has faded. 

“Actually, everything is pretty much done already. Everyone got here around noon, and they kind of took over.”

As if on cue, a burst of laughter hits your ears from where you assume the kitchen is. 

You manage to let out a slow ‘oh’.

Your simple plan has officially backfired. Since Armin's friends are already here, and since he's had no shortage of hands to help him prepare for his get-together, there's nothing left for you to do. More importantly, there’s no more window for you to ask questions. You hoped you’d be the first to arrive, and each arrival after that would be spaced out so you had enough time to get a feel on every one of Armin’s friends on their own. Now that that’s out the window, you start to worry the dynamics will be a bit too awkward between you and however many there are of them. It’s a battlefield now. Too many factors, too many things to worry about. Headfirst, no safety net, no baby steps.

Almost as if he can sense your panic through your otherwise expressionless face, Armin smiles.

“Don't worry about it, they're nice.”

Your fingers curl tighter around the box of desserts. There's a permanent knot in your stomach that twists further, reminding you of its presence, in situations like this. Your mind flashes a jumble of different scenarios and all the possibilities for outcomes without letting you actually process or make sense of any of it. 

And in the next instant, you're back. 

“I brought some lemon bars from Kuchel.” You raise the box just enough for the movement to catch Armin’s eye.

His face lights up when he looks down at the box in your hands and he immediately takes hold of it.

“I freakin’ love these! Thank you!” 

Relief washes over your previously tensed features. Of course, you already knew these specific lemon bars are Armin’s favorite. He's always bummed out when you go together to Kuchel for your lunch break and there's no more left.

“I actually got the last batch,” you state proudly, the feeling only growing when his fingers excitedly tug at the ribbon tying the handles together and fishing out a pastry, biting into it with no hesitation.

“No kidding, they always sell out. Come on, I'll introduce you to everybody.” He heads toward the kitchen, waving at you to follow him.

You nervously tug at your turtleneck's sleeves, leaving them to cover your hands in an almost protective manner. 

The fact that all eyes fall on you the second you step into everyone's line of vision doesn't help you feel at ease. Your gaze wanders to a distant place in an attempt to lessen the mental weight everyone's stares bear on you. But Armin throws a comforting arm over your shoulder and gives you a light squeeze as he announces your name to everybody. 

When you look up — because you have to in order to properly link names and faces together — each new person in the room has a warmth to their features that gradually soothes your internal distress.

Sasha’s the first name to be called out. She's also the only one who goes up to steal you from Armin's arms and hugs you excitedly, squealing about how exciting it is to finally meet you. You're taken aback by the sudden embrace, but she’s holding you so tight that you can't look back at Armin for help. You're also oblivious to his warning gaze toward her behind your back. 

Mikasa smiles and nods politely at you from the other side of the counter. It's quite the contrast from the first girl, but her gaze radiates kindness.

Jean's good looks are the first thing you notice from him, and he's got a cool energy to match. He raises two fingers in a salute when it's his turn, paired with a side smile as he casually leans against the bar.

Lastly, there's Connie, who proves himself to be as goofy as Armin told you beforehand, by dramatically posing with one arm against the counter and his opposite hand resting on his hip, muscles flexed, head turned low just so he could look up again and say “the one and only”. 

You purse your lips in response to hide the smile that still manages to slip through.

“Nice to meet you all.”

You stand there awkwardly for what you think is a second too long, silently begging to come up with something else to say or for someone else to pick up the task so everyone can move on. 

Thankfully, Armin swoops in, showing off his box of lemon bars on his way to a seat at the bar. He taps the seat next to him, gesturing for you to sit.

“Impressive,” Jean says, nodding in approval as he neatly folds a tea towel. He knows how much Armin loves Kuchel's lemon bars. 

“It's not a big deal,” you reply, waving him off as you scan the room for something to give yourself to do. But there isn't much. 

The counters have been cleared of any signs of ingredient prep during introductions, there's a timer set for the oven, and there's but a small pile of dishes left unfinished at the sink, which Mikasa is already finishing up. So you settle for sitting at the bar and staying out of everyone's way.

However, sitting still doesn't clear you from everyone's attention. It only makes sense that they're curious about you. And with the oven timer still with a little less than an hour to go, you can sense the start of a conversation where you're the main focus. 

“So…” Jean begins. 

Everyone gathers around the bar.

You brace yourself.

The following minutes are a bit of a blur. You try your best to keep up with everyone's questions. Where you're from, your birthday, your zodiac sign, what kind of music you like, if you've been to this and that place, or tried the food at x, y, and z. They're pretty basic questions, but as long as you're a target you're kept on your toes. After each of your answers, there's an exchanged glance or a nod of approval. You know everyone is only trying to get to know you, yet you can't help but feel as though every question is part of a test and your likability is at stake. That is until the conversation branches out to a story about the best taco truck in the next town over, which, in turn, leads to a story about Connie and Sasha getting food poisoning from a different taco truck they decided to try after their favorite one happened to close early that day. Only then can you breathe a sigh of relief. You even laugh a little at Sasha’s colorful retelling of the taco story. 

“So, basically, don't go to Tito's,” Sasha finalizes, giving you a stern look. “You'll be shitting and barfing for a week.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” you laugh.

After that, the conversation flows a lot easier for you. There's less pressure with the decrease in questions thrown your way, which gives you more confidence to chime in with anecdotes of your own. It's hard to pinpoint when the conversation stopped feeling like a test, but you're grateful for it. 

You realize there was never any battlefield to survive. Not here, not with this group of friends. And it’s nice to have several people willing to fill in any silence and steer the flow of the conversation instead of feeling the pressure of everyone's interest in your hands. 

Just as you take a second to wander your gaze across everyone's laughing faces, finally feeling at ease with your place in the group, the doorbell rings, followed by the shrill sound of the timer. 

“Fucking Jaeger,” Jean mutters.

“Just in time,” Armin grins, hops down from his chair, and makes his way to the door. Jean follows him at his heel, mumbling something about “Jaeger” being late. 

You're distracted by Mikasa's voice calling your name. 

“Could you get me the oven mitts, please?”

You nod and offer your assistance in taking out the chicken.

On the other side of the wall, Armin buzzes his last guest in and holds the door open to wait, shooting a confused look at Jean, who leans back against the wall to wait, too.

As soon as he comes in, Armin yells out, “Eren!” and pulls his best friend into a big hug, forcing him to crouch slightly to accommodate his embrace. They both laugh as Jean stands with his arms across his chest and a disgruntled look on his face.

“Hey, man. Sorry I'm late.” 

“Mhm,” Jean hums, expecting Eren to cower under his gaze. 

He doesn't. Jean is completely ignored as Eren sheepishly starts to explain himself, even though Armin didn't expect him until around this time anyway. 

“I wanted to get you those lemon bars you like from that bakery. But when I got there, they were all out, so I went to their other shop across town, but they didn't have any either, and so then I—”

Armin laughs. 

“Relax. You made it, that's what matters.”

“I feel bad, though. I really wanted to get some for you. I know they're your favorite.”

“If you really wanted to do something nice, you could've gotten here earlier to help with the cooking,” Jean scolds. Then he smirks. “Like I did.” 

Eren rolls his eyes, finally acknowledging Jean. 

He then pulls out a small gift box and hands it to Armin with a smile. 

"I got you a candle, though."

Jean snorts and walks back to the kitchen, leaving an annoyed Eren shooting daggers at his back. 

Armin graciously takes the gift, taking the lid off to confirm that the candle is, indeed, ocean-scented.

"Thanks, buddy. I was running short on these," he smiles sympathetically at his friend, patting his shoulder. 

As they walk into the open space of the dining area, you walk out with a stack of plates in your hands to set the table. Armin perks up upon seeing you and excitedly rushes Eren, saying he wants to introduce him to somebody. 

Armin’s voice catches your attention as you carefully set the plates down. “This is my best friend Eren.” 

Your gaze shifts toward the pair of surprised green eyes already set on you while Armin’s voice goes on in the background, repeating your name to his friend. 

“Hey, it’s you.” Eren smiles in recognition. 

Armin’s eyebrows raise in surprise; yours furrow in confusion. Everyone starts filing to the dining area with food and silverware to finish setting the table. You step aside, murmuring quiet apologies as you get out of their way and step closer to Armin and his friend. 

“You two know each other?” Armin asks, his gaze shifting between the two of you.

Before Eren can answer, he’s interrupted by Mikasa walking over.

“Hey, Eren. You’re late.” She looks up at him with disappointment. You get the feeling he was supposed to arrive around the same time she and the others did.

“Yeah!” Connie whines from the dining table, where he’s setting up wine glasses. “We had to work twice as hard.” 

Eren ignores Connie’s flawed math.

“Sorry, everybody,” he replies, yet his tone is more that of a meek kid who’s forced to apologize. 

He returns his focus to his original conversation. Armin is still looking at him expectantly.

“Oh, right! Uh… yeah, we bumped into each other at Kuchel’s earlier,” he finally explains. He looks at you shyly. “I held the door for you.”

Your furrowed brow softens, and your lips shape into a silent ah! when you recall the brief interaction. You didn’t even remember his face, but you nod along now.

“Come on, guys. Let’s eat!” Mikasa’s voice cuts through the silence, putting an end to your conversation.

Throughout dinner, everyone is a lot more chatty than you expected, considering there's plenty of food to get through. Everyone spills out as many light-hearted anecdotes about one another as the bites they take of baked potato wedges, garlic butter chicken, and grated carrot salad. Their stories are clear to have been brought up between them several times over the years, but they're new to you and you appreciate them choosing to share with you.

It turns out, the universe has worked its magic to make sure all six friends remain close since childhood. The fact is a little intimidating when you find out, but you do your best to push it aside.

At first, you're perfectly fine quietly listening as you eat, your voice only adding to the mix in the shape of a laugh, a gasp, or a question for the storyteller — just enough so they don't forget you're there. 

The entire time, you feel a pair of eyes stealing glances at you from across the table even when you're not talking. Whenever you slowly look up to meet them, Eren quickly shifts his gaze elsewhere. When choosing places at the table, Armin insisted on having you across from one another. He didn't outright say it, but he did rearrange everyone else so that it worked out that way. 

Given that he was the last to arrive and you've barely spoken directly to each other since he got here, you're not sure how to feel about Eren yet. He seems nice enough, but you don't feel as easy even looking at him as you do with the others. It's strange, but his late arrival made all the difference. Somehow he seems like a total stranger compared to the people you met just an hour before him. After your awkward introduction, it’s hard to say if you can make the situation better.

Night has settled in by the time everyone is leaning back in their seats with full bellies, lazily sipping wine every few minutes as the conversation eases into a quieter, slower pace. The serving dishes have been scraped clean. The box of lemon bars you brought over has been split for dessert, leaving just one lonely square that you know a slightly tipsy Armin has been eyeing. 

Eren had turned to look at you with surprise when Armin thanked you for the second time.

“Ah, so you're the one who beat me to the last batch,” was what he said. 

A soft apology tumbled from your lips.

So far, you hadn't proved yourself to be big on smiling but, when you did, it was nice to look at. Consequently, he tried to be the cause of at least one. So when you gave him nothing for his weak attempt at teasing, he shrunk in his seat and decided to keep quiet. 

It's not long before Jean suggests moving to the living room to play a game and you take that as your cue to start clearing the table so there's no mess to come back to later. As you slip quietly into the kitchen, you can hear Jean and Connie arguing over whether to play cards or Monopoly. As Connie argues, he doesn't want to play Monopoly with a cheater, to which Jean says it's not his fault he's the better player.

You carefully place the dishes in the sink, adjusting the streaming water to a warm temperature. As you tug the pair of dishwashing gloves onto your hands, you catch a glimpse of a figure stepping beside you. When you look up, you're met with a boyish grin and shy jewel-toned eyes. He's setting down another pile of dirty dishes on the counter.

“Hi.” 

You're not sure how to respond other than with a polite nod and a soft hi back. There's not much else to say, anyway. Half of you hopes he'll leave; you need some space to recharge your social battery. The other half is curious about the kind of conversation you might have to engage in if he stays. 

You focus your gaze on the soaking dishes, waiting with bated breath to see what he does. 

He stays. 

He offers to dry what you wash. 

There's a nervous tremor in his voice. Like a kid scared to ask for permission instead of an adult offering help. It's so small you barely notice it, but it's there. 

You nod. 

You wash, he dries. 

It's quiet save for the sounds of dishes clinking together. 

Then, his voice comes through.

“I didn't mean to put you on the spot earlier when I got here. I just have a knack for remembering faces.” 

An uncomfortable warmth crawls up your neck and pools at your cheeks. 

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm kind of the opposite. I just don't pay attention to faces,” you explain. 

“Oh.” He forces a laugh. “Yeah, no, I get it.” 

He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, unsure of how to keep the conversation going. It's a bit discouraging for him to see how laser-focused you are on doing the dishes though, and he already feels foolish for making you apologize for not recognizing a total stranger. He tries not to stare at you too much but it's difficult when you're right there beside him. He only hopes you can't make him out looking at you from the corner of his eye.

You, on the other hand, can feel his eyes burning holes into your side profile. Ignoring it is harder than you hope but at least you have something to help. You're not sure if he expects you to reciprocate his efforts in breaking the ice, but you've yet to get a proper read on him. He was mostly quiet during dinner. Whenever a story with him at the center came up, he'd try to sway the conversation in a different direction. He seemed tense and you hate to think he might be uncomfortable with your presence. Maybe he's an anxious person who's easily embarrassed, you think. Or he might’ve thought you were stuck up and rude after you failed to recognize him and that's why the air now feels so thick. That happens a lot. The people around you are mostly a blur until — and if you ever — have a reason to break into friendly territory. 

The next time you hand a dish for Eren to dry, your gaze lingers, carefully taking in his features. His green eyes are striking, but it's not as if the rest of his face falls short of that. He's very handsome. In a more boyish way than you observed Jean to be, but sharper than, say, Armin. His brown hair is neatly cut on the sides, contrasted by the choppy bangs that line his forehead — something that brings more youth to his face. He's got long, thick lashes and plump lips. Faint freckles are scattered along what one might consider to be a perfect straight nose. He's very handsome, indeed. But that's not all. There's a delicacy to his features that blends them all harmoniously, making Eren Jaeger quite… pretty. 

Eren suddenly clears his throat; you take it as a sign to stop staring.

“So… um… how long have you been friends with Armin?” 

You already know the answer, and you didn’t mind the silence at all, but you might as well try to get Armin’s best friend in your good graces. Especially after your dreadful mistake of not recognizing him. It bothers you to think he might have decided he doesn’t like you because of that.

“Since we were six… Um… He had a lot of trouble with bullies back in elementary school and I beat them up for him.”

That part you didn’t know, so you pause your focus on the plate you’re scrubbing to glance at Eren with admiration. 

“I think he might’ve developed a weird hero complex by mistake though,” he laughs to himself. “He wanted me to get into fights every time he saw someone new being bullied.”

You laugh. The sound makes Eren’s chest swell with pride. 

“Did you do it?”

He bashfully nods without ungluing his gaze from the serving spoon he’s drying.

You laugh some more.

“And of course, then he would take them in as a friend. Something about strength in numbers or whatever. To this day he has this thing that he needs to take in anyone who seems vulnerable.”

You laugh through your nose fully aware of the familiarity you feel from Eren’s story.

“That definitely sounds like him.”

You grin as you finish rinsing the plate, excited to have found some common ground to latch onto for conversation. 

Eren admires your happy expression from the corner of his eye.

But when you turn to look at him, he averts his gaze, curling his lips inwards, and he takes the plate from your hands. 

Your lips downturn a bit, thinking you might still have a long way to go before you can make up for your mistake. 

Still, the thickness in the kitchen air dissipates as you each return to your tasks, the corners of your lips perking up in relieved smiles. 

Armin walks in a moment later with the remnants of a laugh on his face from whatever conversation he just left behind. His faded grin resurfaces when he finds you and Eren together, and he catches a glimpse of the pink tint dusting his best friend's cheeks. 

He watches for a few seconds, mildly amused that neither of you seems to notice his presence. Just as Eren finishes wiping the last fork dry, he decides to speak. 

“You didn't need to do that.” 

His statement is directed at both of you, yet his gaze is fixed on you, a warm smile gracing his features.

“You should join the others,” he tells you. “Oh, and uh…” He swipes a bottle from one of the cupboards. “Take this with you.” 

“Let me just help put away everything,” you offer.

“It's okay, Eren and I got it,” he assures you.

You back out hesitantly, only decidedly walking out when Armin gives you a reassuring nod.

Both men watch you leave. As soon as you're out of sight, Armin's lips stretch into a knowing smile. 

“She's pretty, huh?”

Eren's eyebrows upturn in clear worry when he rips his gaze from you to look at Armin. They soften a split second later in an attempt to appear nonchalant before his grinning friend. 

“Um… I guess so… I don't know.” 

He hurries to tend to the dishes waiting to be put away, hoping it's enough to mask the way he slowly deflates.

Plates and forks are stored in silence. An amused Armin keeps glancing at him.

After a while, a soft laugh escapes his lips.

“Relax, I'm not into her.” 

Eren stiffens, unable to remove his hand by will from the cupboard door he just shut, and instead letting gravity take the wheel. 

Before he can reflect on how exposed he feels, Armin's voice comes through again from where he's now leaning casually against the counter with his hands in his pockets.

“But I meant it when I said she's pretty.” He nods along for emphasis even though Eren has yet to look at him.

“She's really smart too. And kind! I mean, she can seem a little cold at first, but I heard some guys are into that. There's just this charm to her, you know? A few guys at work have tried asking her out but they're totally wrong for her.” He shakes his head at the last thought, then side-eyes Eren expectantly.

“If she ever goes out with someone, I hope it's one of the good guys.” 

Throughout Armin's speech, Eren kept his lips pressed together in a tight line, wondering where Armin was headed with all he was saying. At first, he assumed his friend was interested in the new face of the group, which is why he feigned disinterest. But with every word that kept rolling off his tongue, his intentions were blatantly obvious. And yet he still decides to ask, “What are you trying to do, Armin?”

"Nothing... nothing at all," Armin answers with a shrug, playing it off as if any suggestion is all in Eren's head. He straightens up and starts walking out of the kitchen. There's a pause in his step just before he can slip out of sight. Looking at Eren over his shoulder, he leaves him with one last thought.

“All I'm saying is if you just keep staring at her, she’s gonna get weirded out.”

Eren is left alone, blushing profusely and running a shaky hand through his hair. 

“Come on! That can’t be your most embarrassing thing!”

You shrug.

“That's all I've got.”

“What’s going on?” Eren asks as he takes in the scene. 

It took him a while to reason with himself alone in the kitchen. By the time Eren joins everyone in the living room — nerves finally dormant — everyone is sitting on the floor around the coffee table playing a drinking game. He walks over in search of an open space and ends up nestled between Jean and Connie. Jean throws an arm over his shoulders.

“Jaeger, good. Buddy, tell her about the time you tried to do a one-arm pushup.” From his sleepy eyes and the affectionate term toward Eren, one can easily tell he's drunk.

Eren looks up quizzically at everybody.

“We're telling our most embarrassing stories,” you explain. “Whoever has the worst one wins the round and everyone else has to drink. I think it's just a ploy for everyone to get dirt on me though.” 

You pout at your cup. It's clear you're a little tipsy, too.

Eren softly laughs.

“Whaa– we would never,” Sasha pouts.

“You're getting a deal! You get six embarrassing stories for the price of one!” Connie points out. 

As you start to argue that it's not really fair because it's not like you have anyone to tell, Sasha’s phone buzzes in her pocket and a loud groan rumbles from her throat after skimming through whatever text she just got. Her chin falls onto the coffee table, arms stretched out before her so she can reply. 

Mikasa looks at her with concern and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, affectionately tapping her nose afterward.

“What's wrong?”

“Kaya's out with her friends and she's asking me to send her money for an Uber. I told her to be careful with her money but she just won't listen.” 

Everyone either sympathetically smiles at her or idly watches her send over fifty dollars. You look at Armin, who quietly explains Kaya is Sasha’s younger sister who's a college freshman. You nod in understanding. 

“That's a little sibling for you,” Connie mutters, softly patting Sasha’s head. 

“That's why I love being an only child,” Jean states matter-of-factly. He stretches his arms over his head, rolling his shoulders back before reaching for the bottle of liquor at the center of the table. “Never had to worry about some annoying little runt.”

“I would've liked to have a younger sister,” Mikasa says. “It would've been fun to hang out and teach her things, you know?” 

A touch of nostalgia dances along her lips as she traces the rim of her glass with her index finger. 

“Oh, do you have any siblings?” Her eyes flit in your direction. 

The question is innocent, but the topic of family causes you to shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“No… I don't.” You try to smile, but it's stiff. 

Jean's loud clapping startles you. He tops off all but Connie's and Sasha’s glasses. 

“Oh yeah, single child gang!” He raises his glass in cheers and downs the contents. You follow his lead, hoping that'll mark the end of that topic. But it doesn't. “You must've been spoiled growing up, am I right?”

You lower your gaze, opting to fiddle with your fingers instead of answering. 

Mikasa seems to sense the fragility of the topic from your side because her eyebrows upturn in concern when she looks at you. 

“Hey, not everyone has a mother like yours. Don't be rude, Jean-boy.” She raises a teasing eyebrow as she whips her head in Jean's direction.

“Didn't you yell at her when she brought cupcakes to our class for your birthday?” Eren scrunched his eyebrows together in feigned thought.

“I was twelve! You can't keep holding that over my head. I'm twenty-five now,” Jean whines.

“And I've yet to see you mature,” Eren mutters.

A hushed giggle escapes your lips. You cover it up by sipping your drink. A satisfied smirk tugs at Eren's lips when he catches a glimpse of your smile.

Contrary to his sober self, drunk Jean craves Eren's approval and affection instead of their usual frenemy-like banter. He looks at him with sad eyes.

“Hey, I've made up for it. Mama Kirstein doesn't need to lift a finger thanks to her amazing engineer son.” 

Sasha’s face contorts in confusion.

“Last time I went to Trost with you, she was still working as a seamstress.” 

Jean waves her off.

“She just likes to keep busy.”

“What do your parents do?” Sasha turns to you.

You're trapped. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see Armin leaning forward with just as much interest as the others. In the past, Armin's asked about your family only once. After vaguely implying you weren't close to them, he dropped the topic. But now, in his intoxicated state, he doesn't do much to keep his level of curiosity under wraps. And knowing you're slightly buzzed, too, he hopes you’ve let go of any inhibitions that have kept you from revealing more of your background. 

Armin likes you. He's always admired your efficiency at work, but you seemed lonely and closed off — which is why he decided to approach you in the first place. To everyone in the office, you were a cold stuck-up woman — yet they still refused to stop obsessing over you. To him, you were just misunderstood and lowkey. Sure, you refused to do much to take up space in a room, but through small conversations here and there, he was allowed to slowly unveil your true self. 

But there was always another hidden wall. Armin wouldn't admit it out of fear of seeming like a creep, but that line you expertly draw — allowing someone in without fully giving yourself away — is part of what makes you alluring. That and your keen eye for reading people.

You wet your lips with a swipe of your tongue, looking for a way out inside the clear liquid sitting at the bottom of your glass.

Eren zeroes in on your face, trying to decipher the distant look in your eyes. The weight on his chest lightens when you finally speak.

“I'm not sure what they're doing now. Last time I checked, my mom was a drug addict, and my dad left when I was twelve.”

The weight in Eren's chest comes back heavier than ever.

Silence takes over the living room. Even the darkness outside the window seems eerily quiet as your abrupt statement courses through the gears in everyone's heads.

There's no certainty as to why you blurted out what you did. Maybe it was a sense of security which you now think was a trick of your mind. Perhaps the alcohol is to blame. After all, you didn't feel any need to be a burden on others on an otherwise fun night before. But the words just seemed to push their way out of your mouth. 

A severe scolding rings in your ears.

You always ruin everything!

You don't expect anyone to come up with an answer. In fact, you'll be grateful if someone simply discards your words and steers the conversation in a different direction. But if nobody does, then you'll quietly make your way home. There’s no use in annoying others by begging them to let you stay, promising you won't cause any more trouble. 

“How long has it been since you saw your mom?” Mikasa's voice cuts through the thickness of the air.

The look in her eyes is sympathetic. Not the fake kind that makes you feel pitied for having endured a rough life. It's the kind that simply matches such an ordinary question.

“About a year,” you murmur. 

Jean hums in thought.

“A year, huh? That's almost how long you've been in the city, right?” He scratches his chin as he retrieves the information you shared earlier from his tipsy brain. 

You nod. “Yup… one year.”

Everyone nods along to your answer. Everyone but one.

You nervously blink toward the left, searching Armin's face. He's slumped in his spot, his eyes lost at a blank point. They flash in your direction, and he quickly composes himself, but not quick enough for his expression to go unnoticed by you.

Despite some things here and there, he thought you were close. He never pressured you to share anything you didn't want to. Just getting along and respecting each other would have sufficed — he’s a giver more than he is a taker. But he feels like he failed to support you. He's extremely dumbfounded, but he doesn't make it a point that you never told him the specifics on something so big. He refuses to make you think he resents you for it. 

But the glimpse you caught of his fallen shoulders and clouded eyes still makes you lower your head in guilt. Just ten minutes ago, you felt accomplished for being on your way to gaining new friends and grateful that Armin paved the way for you. You're embarrassed for having thought that you could juggle more relationships when you've barely been open to the one you already have. It's almost laughable that you thought to leave your comfort zone and give this evening a try.

Before you can issue an apology, Jean's loud clapping startles you for the second time tonight.

"Well.” He tilts his head as he splits the last of the liquor into everyone's glass for one last drink. “In any case... if you hadn't moved here, you wouldn't be drinking with the best people you'll ever meet." 

“Hear, hear!” Armin yells beside you, following Jean's lead and raising his glass toward the center. 

Your eyes meet his. He's smiling, nodding almost imperceptibly for you to join your glass with everyone else's. The corners of your lips quirk into a relieved smile. You raise your glass.

The rest of the group cheers as joyful clinks spread through the room. 

Whatever darkness was squeezing at your chest dissipates. Your eyes crinkle in amusement as you allow your giddiness to take over. 

A pair of mesmerized green eyes linger on your face from the opposite side of the coffee table. His lips part slightly to draw in a long breath, followed by a sip of alcohol. 

A beeping phone sifts through the commotion.

Mikasa looks down at her phone. First, with curiosity, then with worry. 

Levi Don't go out at night for a while. Killer on the loose. SN3

She calls out Armin's name.

“Turn on the news on channel 3.”

The urgency tainting Mikasa's usual steady voice has Armin scrambling to find the remote, though with a bit of confusion. Everyone else exchanges quizzical glances while they wait for him to turn the television on.

A male newscaster is halfway through reciting a report on the police department's recent findings. 

“... The twenty-six-year-old woman's body was dismembered and disposed of in a garbage dumpster behind a local restaurant. Police have yet to report any evidence that can lead them to any suspects. An autopsy is ongoing to pinpoint the cause of death but with the initial report, signs point to a possible case of torture…”

The mood shifts yet again. Everyone stares at the screen, but the words no longer reach anyone's ears. Nobody recognized the girl identified on the screen but it's still unnerving when something so tragic and cruel happens in the city one lives in. Being close in age to the victim just makes it even rougher. 

Eren is the first to look back — specifically at the girls.

You all seem lost in thought. His gaze flits in your direction. You're just as distant, nursing your glass in your hands as you chew on your bottom lip. He turns to Mikasa.

“Was that Levi earlier?”

Eren's voice pulls Mikasa from her thoughts.

She nods.

“Who's Levi?” you ask.

“My uncle,” she explains. “He texted me not to go out at night for a while. They didn't say if this was a serial killer but I don't think he wants to take any chances as long as the culprit is out there.” In a lower voice she adds, “he's in the police.” 

You slowly nod, then suddenly remember where you are.

“I need to get home fast, then.” 

Your eyes land on the digital clock beside the TV. It's well past the time to catch the last bus. You swipe your phone from your purse to look up cab numbers, unaware of the nervous glances exchanged all around you.

“I don't think you should leave now.” Eren stops you from dialing the first cab company from your search results, his eyes wide with concern. He doesn't realize his hand is holding onto your wrist until you look down at it.

He pulls away, embarrassed, but remains firm in his statement.

“Eren's right,” Connie agrees. He has a protective hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “Mind if we crash here tonight?” He directs his gaze at Armin. 

“No need to ask. I'll bring out some blankets.”

It's two in the morning. A cluster of tired bodies sleeps peacefully on the living room floor. Lazy limbs stretch out and across someone else's. Light snores and rare mumblings are the only thing that disturbs the quiet. 

The murder on the news had left everyone unsettled. Much so, that everyone felt inclined to sleep together in the same room. It didn’t do much for their comfort given the space, but it gave everyone a sense of safety. 

Eren’s eyelids barely flutter open. They're so heavy, he wishes he could just ignore the uncomfortable fullness of his bladder. But he can't. Begrudgingly, he clumsily rises to his feet and makes his way to the bathroom, rubbing his temples with one hand and feeling around for any walls and furniture with his other while his eyes adjust to the darkness. 

When he gets back, he catches sight of a lone figure sitting out on the small balcony outside of the kitchen.

It takes him a minute to rid himself of the extra warmth in his face. He takes a deep breath and quietly slides the door open to step out.

“Hey.” 

You look up at him from your chair. Your knees are pressed against your chest, your arms wrapped around them for support as your cheek rests on top.

“Hi.” 

“Is it okay if I sit?”

You nod and proceed to face forward, resting your chin where your cheek used to be.

The night is pleasantly warm. You're wearing the sweats and shirt Armin lent you for the night. 

Eren's gaze roams every shape of your side profile. It's the second time you've been alone together and he's racking his brain on what to talk about to balance out the way he's been staring at you all night. He doesn't want to give Armin another reason to tease him. His hands are sweaty and his cheeks start to warm at the reminder.

“Did I wake you?” 

Your voice is gentle and sweet, but it startles him nonetheless. 

“No,” he manages to say. He pauses. “How long have you been out here?”

You shake your head as you look up at the star-littered sky.

“Not long.”

He hums, mulling your answer over. 

If you’re awake at this hour, not bothering to try going back to sleep, something must be weighing heavily on your mind, he reasons. That’s further proven by the way you’re shrinking into yourself, trying to take up as little space as you can. Not that he’s especially knowledgeable about you, but there’s a difference in how your quietness manifests itself now than during dinner. It’s comparable to the way you were after watching the news. 

“Are you okay?” 

He watches you hesitate to give him an answer. Your lips tremble, parting and pressing together a couple of times. It’s as if you’re willing to talk but the words are lodged in your throat.

“You can tell me.”

Still no answer. 

“Is it because of the girl on the news?”

Finally, you look at him. Your brows twist with grief. 

“I just can’t stop thinking about her. Her family must be devastated.”

All evening, Eren’s had a hard time holding your gaze. Mainly because he didn’t want to give himself away, but it’s also hard to admire someone when they’re looking directly at you. Once his racing heart finds a steadier rhythm, he finds it’s actually easy to lose himself in your eyes. 

There’s a subtle glassiness to them — one he’d be more concerned about if he hadn’t noticed it as a natural part of you. Your eyes heavily conveyed every emotion, every little thought. And Eren suddenly felt compelled to learn how to read them.

The way you’ve presented yourself so far — gentle and cautious — gives you an aura of delicate maturity in the eyes of others. But for a brief moment, you seem small. Troubled, even. 

“I know it’s selfish for me to be thinking about this, but sometimes I wonder if I’ll have anyone crying for me when I die. I don’t have many people,” you whisper.

It feels strange to Eren to suddenly feel a surge of courage when he’s been nothing but an awkward wreck around you since you met.

“You have us now.”

You don’t show yourself to be entirely convinced. In fact, there’s a hint of amusement shimmering in your eyes. But you appreciate his words no matter how empty they might turn out to be. 

Eren hesitates to ask you the question that’s been gnawing at his brain for hours now. You’ve been sharing such a pleasant moment, that he hates to think he might ruin it all and end up losing his cool in the process. 

“That stuff about your parents… is it true?”

It’s a leap of faith.

“You think I made it up?”

The raised eyebrow and the humorless smile that graces your lips take him by surprise, even more so than the firm tone of your voice.

“No, of course not!” He chokes on his words, frantic he might have offended you. 

But you laugh, and it soothes him instantly.

“Relax, I was just teasing you.” You look away, warmth pooling at your cheeks upon your failed attempt to be funny. “It’s true, by the way. I’m a child of neglect.” 

A heavy sigh pushes past your lips.

He doesn't pick up on your embarrassment — he’s much too focused on his own.

Despite the bitterness lacing your gentle voice, he can’t help himself from wanting to know more. It makes him anxious. Finding you attractive is besides the point. His mind is scrambling at any opportunity to get closer to you. He wants to keep talking. He wants to hear more about what worries you. He wants to stretch out the night and keep the conversation going — even if he’s caught off guard by your unpredictable teasing a few more times. He wants to know about your past. He wants to know you. But you kill off his chances when you suddenly change the course of the conversation. 

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” You look up at him with concern contorting your features. It takes everything in him not to let his gaze drift to your bottom lip that’s caught between your teeth to keep your nerves at bay.

“Huh?”

You clear your throat before explaining and fiddle with your hands as you do. You focus on the moon instead of him.

It’s quite cute for Eren to see you fidget for once.

“It's just that during dinner you barely talked and whenever I looked at you, you would look away,” you explain bashfully. “And then when we were doing the dishes together, you just felt a little awkward. I mean, I don’t expect you to be all chummy with me, but it was kind of like you were forcing yourself to talk to me.” 

Eren wants to smack himself. He had no idea of the message he was sending all this time. All those averted gazes and suppressed smiles must have looked totally different from your end.

“I thought maybe you were uncomfortable with me around.”

Your voice is even softer than before. It might have to do with the people sleeping inside or maybe you're just feeling quieter than usual. Eren has no idea. But it's a nice sound, and his quickening heartbeat isn't lost on him.

The abrupt changes in his system are giving him whiplash. And it’s all because of you.

“I’m not,” he whispers. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

A deep shade of red gradually tints his cheeks, openly defying the pale blue light from the moon. His gaze shies away from you and settles on his lap, where he nervously rubs his sweaty palms just to give himself something to do. When his eyes slowly drift back to your face, he swallows hard. 

It finally hits you.  

Oh, you think. 

Next chapter

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#aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger x reader #aot imagines #eren yeager fanfiction #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #tw: alcohol

[woooyeahbaby]

Who Says ‘I Love You’ First - AOT drabbles

warnings: probably ooc eren because i imagine him kinda differently from canon 😭 sorry, that’s really it, just fluff? maaaybe ooc jean. gender neutral reader i think? lmk if i said something that wasn’t gn, i’ll fix it asap

characters: eren, jean, armin, levi

Eren

you. i mean, we all saw how he never confessed to mikasa, right? sorry, but you’re not special.

of course, he wants you to know he loves you, so he’ll show actions of love, but never outright says he loves you. he has it planned out, down to the exact wording, he has it memorized, even. however, he can never spit it out. so you have to take the reigns.

at the point you confess, you’ve realized he won’t be saying it any time soon. it’s been a year of you two being together, so it’s pretty obvious.

you’ll be perhaps on a walk with him, not necessarily a destination. you could even be on a boring patrol. it’s quiet, trees blowing in the wind, and the soft chirps of birds. you look at eren, and him feeling your eyes on him, looks back. you feel confident enough.

“i love you, eren.” you give a soft smile, trying to hide how nervous you felt about saying that. you start to overthink slightly, wondering if he never said it simply because he really just didn’t feel like that.

“i..” eren’s eyes are wide with shock, but he doesn’t look offended, no. his cheeks are slightly red, a smile forms on his lips, and his body visibly tenses. “i.. love you too.”

it seemed like it was difficult for him to say that, but other than returning to overthinking it, you realized he was definitely just scared. you smile back at him, then reach for his hand. he grabs yours, squeezing a little tighter than usual. it was only because he was giddy and trying not to show it.

Jean

he does! only because he says it quite early. only about two months into dating. it doesn’t really bother you how early it was, since he made it very obvious he wasn’t lying or anything. he’s always very caring and gentle with you, such a softie when it comes to you.

it wasn’t just words that showed you he loves you, he’d always pamper you the best he could. he’d share his food with you, no matter how hungry. he’d wipe blood from your face with his thumb. plenty of acts and gestures to show his love before he announced it.

let’s set this.. beginning of season three. in the cabin and cleaning up together, perhaps helping him wash dishes. jean sees you working hard, and his heart throbs. he loves seeing you focused.

“hey,” he says to catch your attention. “i love you.” he sounds slightly nervous, his voice cracking ever so slightly. of course he made eye contact with you to deepen the feeling.

“i love you too, jean. where’d that come from?” you laugh softly, feeling your face heat up as you continue to wash dishes.

“i just felt like telling you. felt like a good time.” he smirks as he grabs a cloth to dry a plate you’ve set down.

Armin

surprisingly, he does. but it was an accident. let’s say five months into dating, at the cabin in season three.

armin had been having a hard time recently, poor guy was so stressed and anxious with absolutely everything. so one day, while he’s cleaning up for captain levi in the cabin, you approach him with something behind your back.

he sets his broom aside, raising an eyebrow as he sees your hands behind your back.

“y/n? what do you have?” armin asks curiously, a small yet playful smile on his face.

“just a gift.” you smile back as you suddenly show him what the gift was; a book about everything beyond the walls.

his eyes absolutely light up and his smile grows ten times bigger. he grabs the book from your hands excitedly, then wraps his arms around you.

“oh, y/n! i love you! where did you get this?!” armin nearly shouts, his voice cracking all over the place. he doesn’t even realize what he said until a few seconds later.

“o-oh, i um.. sorry…” his eyes are wide as he backs from the hug, his face red.

“it’s okay, armin. i love you too.” you laugh softly. “i just happened to find it.”

you decide not to dwell on it, seeing how embarrassed he got. you found it adorable.

Levi

you do. he’s far too shy to tell you, but you still have all of his heart. six months into dating. you’re enjoying a cup of tea, alone with him.

you’re holding a conversation with him, something many of the scouts find difficult. but, seeing as you’re literally dating him, you find it easy. especially when he’s content with his tea. even if the conversation was dull and simple, you both felt love in each other’s gazes.

it was like he was staring at an angel when he looked at you, you could see in his eyes and expression that the only thing he cared about in the moment was you. part of you wondered why he never voiced it, though. so.. why shouldn’t you? maybe that’ll get it out of him.

“i love you, levi.” you say once the previous conversation ends, and he seems slightly taken aback. his jaw drops slightly, and you hear a soft gasp.

once he catches his physical reaction, he clears his throat. “ahem, sorry. that um.. caught me off guard. i love you too, y/n. very much.” he returns to his loving expression instead of his shocked one as he speaks.

“it’s alright, it was out of nowhere. i only expected you to be surprised.” you smile, reaching across the table to hold his hand.

levi takes your hand, soothingly rubbing his thumb across the back of it just how he knows you like it. “it was sweet, nonetheless.”

did you like this? my requests are open! please check out my pinned post about requests if you’d like me to write something for you :)

#attack on titan fanfiction #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #levi ackerman x reader #eren jeager x reader #jean kirstein x reader #armin arlert x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #eren jaeger fanfiction #jean kirstein fanfiction #armin fanfiction #attack on titan headcanons

[everythingseasoning]

Misunderstandings. 

AU - You’re in love with your best friend Eren Jaeger, but he seems to be interested in somebody else.

Tags: Pining. Friends to lovers. Fem bodied reader. For any skin, POC friendly <3

Warnings: Eventual smut. Minors DNI with pt. 2

Length: pretty short. this is pt. 1

“She looks nothing like me. 

So why do you look so happy?

I know now, if I tried to change, 

Somehow, you’d end up with her anyway.”

\opposite, Sabrina Carpenter\

𓆩♡𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪

A whole city. Endless festivities, adventures, movies, people bustling about on a Friday night. But you stared out the window alone. 

Tears slipped down your face as you buried your face into your sweater, the sleeves damp from all the tears you’d already cried. It still smelled like him. You felt like a mess. You felt ugly. You sniffed again, stretching your jaw to see just how puffy your face was. 

Your phone buzzed: You checked it, feeling your skin crawl when you saw his name on the bright white screen. 

Eren <3: Y/n, why aren’t you answering me?

A few hours ago:

It was Friday night and he’d bailed on you, on your plans. Eren said he was feeling ill. So imagine your surprise when you saw him at the mall with another girl that same night. She looked nothing like you, from her hair, to her skin, to her eyes. She was giggling as he held her waist.

And there you were, standing with two reusable bags hanging off your arms, filled with items for him, staring into a picture of a beautiful couple— a picture that you didn’t belong in. 

You were at the mall, buying him silly hair clips so you could pin them on his gorgeous brown hair, before helping him with his skincare. You’d planned to go over to Eren’s place that night. Eren always slacked on his skincare whenever he was sick. And you were about to hurry back to your car, which had fresh produce in the driver’s seat. You were worrying about the food spoiling before you could cook tonight, for him. …But then you saw them, and it wasn’t a trick, it was undeniable: Eren cupped her face and you felt your heart drop. Green jealousy exploded in your body, betrayal and shock coursing through your veins. You wanted to run away. You wanted to scream. You wanted to disappear. Eren pressed his lips to hers, his hands above her butt, pulling her flush against his body. You turned and walked away, tears already hitting the ground. 

… 

Your phone buzzed again. 

Eren <3: Y/n?

You: Why didn’t you just tell me the truth.

Eren <3: WHAT How did you end up at the same mall that I went to? There’s like a dozen in this city.

Eren: Hello?

Eren: are you mad?

Eren: I didn’t mean to lie, Y/n. It’s just that Isabella asked me out, and I knew you’d be mad if I canceled plans to hang out with somebody else… You know you’re my best friend.

You didn’t know what was worse. The fact that Eren had totally missed the apology mark, or that he’d thought you’d be like an understanding wingman for him. 

You muffled a scream, feeling totally helpless, totally jealous, totally hurt. 

You: I can’t be friends with you anymore, I’m sorry. I just need to be away from you. You haven’t realized how much you’ve hurt me, for months now. So this is goodbye.

Eren: …What??

You: Please just leave me alone. Don’t try to reach me, in any way. Congrats on your date. 

Eren: Y/n, what are you talking about?! 

Eren: I called you, answer the next time I call

Eren: Y/n… come on. I’m coming over.

You: Eren, don’t. 

Eren: Too bad. My best friend is upset. I’m gonna be there for her.

Your heart ripped even further. You didn’t think it was possible for it to hurt even more, but now you knew: Eren would only ever see you as a best friend. 

You: I said leave me alone. If you show up, I won’t answer. I’ll call security.

You finally clicked out of his contact, his name changed to its rightful title.

Dumbass: Are you being serious right now??

You: I’m leaving now. Leave me alone. Please.

You deleted his contact. You went around your house and grabbed all of Eren’s belongings: his spare toothbrush, his scrunchie, his stuffed teddy bear. You threw it all in a bag. 

It was time to get over the love of your life. 

— 3 months later —

“Jean. I think I’m in love with her.”

“So that’s why you haven’t fucked anybody in months,” Jean replied, swirling cream into his coffee. 

“These have been the hardest months of my life, without her.” Eren groaned. His hair was down, and he wore sweats in the campus cafe. He was a hot mess.

“Dude, she was your best friend, what happened?” 

“I… I don’t even know. She just said I was hurting her? For months? And that she couldn’t do it anymore… I fucked up, Jean. She’s beautiful, intelligent, and kind. I miss her so bad.”

— Pt. 1 End, cause I need to fucking sleep —

AN: yo this is rushed as fuck. 

It’s not thought out. It’s unlike my usual work, and tbh I don’t like it. 

But like. Hope you enjoyed?! 

Pt. 2 comes out if y’all want it. You can just comment if you want a pt. 2 :)

#eren fic #eren angst #eren fanfiction #eren x reader #eren headcanons #eren x you #eren jaeger #aot #eren aot #aot eren #eren fanfic #eren yeager #eren yeager fic #eren yeager fanfic #eren yeager fanfiction #eren jaeger fic #eren jaeger fanfic #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #eren smut #eren smut aot #eren imagines #attack on titan smut #attack on titan fluff #aot fluff #aot smut #aot headcanons #aot x reader #aot scenarios

[chrollohearttags]

reverb • chapter nine

synopsis: following his talk with Armin, Eren decides to channel his energy into something more positive but finds that getting back into the groove of creating is a lot harder than expected. Luckily, a much needed visit from a familiar face and someone very dear to him helps get the rapper back on track. But will he be met with warmth and words of encouragement or incredibly tough love? A confrontation between him and the fiancé of his scorned best friend takes place as well, where the pissed off rockstar has some choice words for the equally disgruntled EJ. How will Eren respond? Meanwhile, (y/n) uses her vacation time to rest, reflect and return to her roots. A lot of her past is revealed, including the reason for her sudden shift in mood at the airport. While back home, the budding star decides to pay a visit to her old stomping grounds, where she asks for advice from a trusted loved one. But what message awaits her and will she take heed? Also, the day of the infamous yacht party arrives and Armin, the gracious host invites both his best friend and (y/n). Who hadn’t seen one another in weeks so tensions are high and very awkward. That is until an incident brings the pair closer together than before. Will they be able to reconcile or has time and distance dwindled that lustful passion? 

content warning: flashbacks, smut mentions, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of death, mentions of spirituality/tarot/astrology, depression, mental health, alcohol use, implied sex, lots of humor

word count: 12.3K (long as hell, I know!)

“You have to find something you cherish and pour your heart into it, otherwise, it’s all pointless..”

📝: here’s to hoping that I can get back to much more frequent and consistent uploads because boy do I miss this story! And I hope you all do too. I appreciate everyone for sticking around and showing this series so much love. It won’t be going anywhere any time soon. 💖

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eighteen years ago…

“Now you gotta put a little more flour in there. You want ‘em to bake up just right…and stir it real good. Think you can do that?”

“Yesmaam, I got it, gwanny.”

“That’s my girl! Alright, and while we let ‘em bake, we can get this kitchen cleaned up. Can’t enjoy cookies with mess everywhere now, can we?”

“No ma’am! We don’t want yucky stuff everywhere.”

“That’s right! You know Grandma loves you, sweet pea.”

“I love you too, Gwanny…”

“I love you too….—

present day

the words that had been spoken during (y/n)’s deep slumber began to trail off into reality as you awoke from unconsciousness. Shooting up from the mattress as you called out to the person who was so far away.  Unbeknownst, you had been doing this every single night since returning home from Texas. Three days had passed since the beginning of your month-long vacation and you had already slept through a majority of them. From the bathroom straight back to bed, with a small snack in between. An endless bout of depression you were struggling to come out of. But that’s how this time of year always went…you’d wallow and sulk, cry for hours on end until you exhausted yourself. It was a brutal and vicious cycle but hopefully, with a little help, you’d snap out of it. At least that’s what your best friend was hoping for when she all but broke into your apartment this morning and began cooking breakfast..something you weren’t aware of until you smelled the aroma of breakfast foods...along with another delectable item. The fragrant scent was so unique, you knew there was only one other person who could’ve created it, seeing as how the first one was long gone. “That’s—wait!”

hopping out of bed..bonnet and a large sleeping shirt were the only things that you were sporting as you wiped the remaining crust from your eyes and darted for the kitchen. It was there you’d spot someone sporting similar clothing with music playing and a stack of food displayed on the countertop. Bacon, eggs, grits and the most surprising? A pile of your Grandma’s famous blueberry biscuits. A recipe that has been in your family for generations! They were your favorite and every Sunday, after church, your granny would have a fresh batch waiting for you to pair with her incredible fried chicken and Mac and cheese. It was so nostalgic! However..you wanted to know what prompted all of this..

“Good morning, sunshine…you slept okay?” Niesha, with that charming, little southern accent. Her voice is light and soothing as summer rain and that gorgeous smile of hers even without a single drop of makeup on. Her natural hair styled into fingerwaves and wrapped in a silk durag, matching the PJ’s she was wearing. It was like being fresh out of high school all over again and you spent nights at her house. Staying up all night after work and dreaming about making it into a better situation. It seems that you guys had manifested this dream life and it was all coming to fruition. Sadly, at the height of it all, you fell into depression yet again. But alas, your best friend was here to pull you out of it. Scratching your eyes free of the sleep crusting around it, you took a seat at the kitchen counter in one of the barstools as she slid you a glass of orange juice. “Yeah, it was fine...Nie Nie, did you stay here all night?” your brow furrowing in concern as you took a sip but as always, she was playing coy and being cute. She wasn’t going to admit that she had watched you struggle and sob in your sleep as you called out to your grandmother. That was only after you had drank yourself silly..which was completely out of character. But it was to be expected and she’d stick beside you for as long as you needed her. Twenty something years of sisterhood and she damn sure wasn’t about to give it up now. Trying to downplay the whole thing, she just tried to change the subject and pretend the reason for her extended stay was some other reason. 

“Yeah, you know my man was supposed to come through last night but he got on my damn nerves again so now I got him on punishment.” to which you’d just giggle and try not to laugh too hard because her and this supposed man were not even in a relationship nor did they have any business together. Friends with benefits and a whole heap of drama. “You and Armin are still messing around, huh? I could’ve sworn you said you was done with his ass last week. Or was that before he brought you that new Van Cleef you’re wearing anddd that new Birkin?” making your best friend nervously cackle and scratch the back of her head. “Chileee, did I say that? Girl, you know I just be talking, you can’t pay me no attention.” The two of you were joking and playing around, which seemed to lift you in much higher spirits than before. As long as you were smiling, that was a good sign for your dear Niesha. “Anyways, enough about meee..are you feeling alright this morning, boo? Had me a lil’ scared there for a minute.” questioning now that you seemed to be in a much lighter headspace, sober and more than likely, better equipped to answer to now. Truthfully, you were still a little down and it wasn’t necessarily because you were grieving but because at the moment, you were feeling a little directionless. Right before you guys came home, you got more devastating news..but as you were preparing to delve into it, she’d hand you your plate along with a tall glass of orange juice and insist you eat before you upset yourself again and became ill. You’d thank her before divulging all of the details. 

“So you know I’ve been trying to get Granny’s house back from that bitch who took it and the state, right? Well..I had a meeting with my lawyer and he said they denied the motion to move forward with the case. Saying that she legally has control and it was signed over to her so there’s nothing I can do.” Feeling a hard lump in the back of your throat as you spoke the words out in the open. Now that you were saying it aloud, the shit hurt worse. Honestly, it was your biggest motivator for getting money and maintaining a life of notoriety. In your mind, you figured that if you obtained pretty substantial wealth and possibly enough status, you could get the best lawyers money could buy and snatch your childhood home back. Now it all felt in vain..

You were seventeen years old during the untimely passing of your grandmother from cancer..fresh out of high school without a clue about the world and nothing to your name. The only saving grace was the fact that you had her house she’d promised you since childhood in the event that something happened to her..or so you thought. As if losing the only guardian and family you’d ever known wasn’t enough, another hard blow came when you were forcefully evicted by the state only three weeks later and told that the rightful owner would be moving in. That person? Your granny’s caretaker. The middle aged woman in the pink scrubs and bright yellow Crocs who would always greet you when you came home from school..smiling in your face and being so friendly as your sweet granny lay on her deathbed. Only for that evil bitch to pull the dirty stunt of making her change her will when her mind began to deteriorate. It was a rotten trick but a legal one and there was nothing that you, a child without a red cent to show could do about it. To add to fate’s cruel sick joke, you then turned eighteen and because of that, you were too old for foster care. Technically an adult but feeling like a frightened little girl inside, you wandered the streets for weeks. Sleeping out of the car she left behind, trying to work during the day and stay safe at night. You were so scared and would cry for hours until you fell asleep in the backseat. It wasn’t until Niesha got wind of the situation and slapped the dog shit out of you for not saying something sooner. Then right afterwards, invited you to stay at her house. It was small and she had a younger sister, as well as her mom but they welcomed you with open arms. 

“We’re family, baby. You like a third daughter to me and I knew your granny for a long time. We gon’ make sure you are alright.”

A direct quote from Ms. Candice Daniels, Niesha’s mom and the matriarch of the close knit little unit of three..however, you couldn’t intrude for long and as much as you appreciated the hospitality, you had to figure out a plan for your life. Ironically enough, your saving grace came in the form of a family member who had just gotten out of jail and who also played a huge role in you choosing to do pole professionally and deciding to pursue a career in entertainment. Someone who’d be reentering your world pretty soon. 

“You know what? I had a feeling it had something to do with that and I’m so sorry, baby. I know you wanted it back.” Niesha, who was eating as well, reached across the counter and grasped your hands in hopes to comfort you. Even though she had already gone above and beyond, she still felt helpless and wished she could help. But she did have a bit of information that would possibly lift your spirits and possibly help you gain insight now that you were back home.. “But if it’ll make you feel better..your Uncle Bam came by real early this morning to drop off these biscuits..he said if they didn’t make you smile, he didn’t know what would.” Hence the pungent smell of butter and blueberries hitting your nose upon waking up. He was the only other person in this world with that recipe and skill to cook them. Although Niesha knew her way around the kitchen, it would take years to get that mastered. Seeing you beam in excitement at the name, she’d continue to share the rest of his message. “He also said for you to come see him today once you woke up and got moving. That he could sense that your energy was off and that he may have something to help you.” Releasing a sigh as well as a laugh, (y/n) nodded whilst taking a sip of juice. “Yep, that sounds like Unc. Lord, what does this man want now?” Playfully rolling your eyes and continuing to finish your food. As reluctant as you were, you knew he could help you through whatever. He had become somewhat of a…’spiritual advisor’ to those in the community in his later years. As gifted as he was with the ability to help others, your uncle was a bit of an eccentric. Even so, you loved him dearly and he was the only blood relative you had..or maintained contact with at least. If it weren’t for him and his partner, who knows what you’d be doing right now..

“I think you should go visit him. Get out of this house and talk to somebody. You’d rather pull teeth than go see a therapist so maybe he can figure out what you need.” And truthfully, she had a suggestion of her own that could help shift your mood and it’d involve a certain someone who had been responsible for your happiness in the past month or so. Even if you refused to admit it.. 

“Speaking of getting out of the house..Armin’s hosting a lil’ yacht party this weekend and he wants us to come. Said that he would love to have you there since you’re my boo and all. He wants to meet you since you missed out on the first function.” you'd listen to Niesha speak, trying to continuously sweeten the pot.. “..Really? He told you that?” “Yes he did and said that EJ would be there too.” which made your eyebrow furrow in response because if it was one thing you knew and two damn things for certain..

“I think y’all both full of it. That man doesn't come outside for nobody..especially no damn parties unless he’s getting paid.” Truthfully, they couldn’t deny that. He was very reclusive and didn’t really care to be mingling or out mixing among the crowd. That was, of course, outside of his one exception. “But he flew all the way to Texas just to see your ass so if you show up, he will too.  Even so, you couldn’t be sure if you were ready to see him quite yet. After all, it had been almost two weeks since you guys last saw each other or even spoke. A lot had transpired in your personal lives and neither of you felt it right to involve the other in your problems. Hence the radio silence from each of your end. You and EJ had a lot of fun together, you couldn’t lie. Being in a relationship wasn’t plausible at the moment though. But it seemed as if your meddling best friends were determined to play matchmaker and get their ship to sail..no pun intended! “Ion know, Niesh..I mean, I’m really not up for all that right now. We just got back off tour and I’m exhausted. Miss Ackerman’s got me booked for a couple gigs, and I have a meeting with Mr. Smith too so I just don’t know— “you mean my sis, Mika? Yeah, her and Jean are coming too. We actually hung out when you were gone and bitch, she is sum’ else.” “For real? What did y’all talk about?” and of course, you were the topic of discussion. About how hard working you were but that they wish you’d rest. How you first met her and how you were her favorite client. She said that you were so sweet and that she wished all of her talents were as good as her ‘precious (y/n)’. “That and the fact that she’d be praying for Niesha because Armin was as bad as it could get. “I told her not to worry ‘cause I’mma do his ass worst if he keeps playing with me.”  You were just shocked that your best friend and manager had become so close in your absence while you were in Cali. Which may have been due to the fact that not only was she your best friend but she was the only one of Armin’s women that she got along with. Niesha had a very high, infectious energy that made anyone love her. It got you wondering how EJ would react to her if the chance ever arose for the two of them to meet….  “So you all in the family now, huh? Guess I missed a lot.” Causing her to burst into her signature cackle and bop your nose.

“That’s right. So you two hermits have no excuse. You’re off the clock, you’re on vacation so enjoy it. Two people who are so busy trying to create a ‘dream life’ can’t even stop to live it. Besides, if I don’t return you to the group all happy and refreshed, them hoes gon’ jump me. They made me promise I’d look out for you so I want you to have a good time. Can you do me that one favor..please? It’s not easy seeing my sis all sad. I love you, (y/n). And I just want you to be good.” Just then, your heart would flutter and your resolve would soften. You could tell that Niesha, your uncle, even Brianne, Kelly and Syrai, despite being states away, all cared for you deeply. So the best thing you could do for them was try and make the best of this beautiful life you were given. As much as you had hoped to return to your childhood home, if for nothing else..properly say goodbye and get that closure..it was your past and you could never move forward if you kept dwelling on it. Reaching over, you’d wrap Niesha in a giant hug and the two of you shared a sentimental moment. “Oh, Nie Nie. I love you too, pookie. I’m sorry for being so down all the time. I didn’t even realize how I was affecting everybody else. You know what? Starting today, I’m getting out of this house. I’m done crying.” which elated Niesha because tears did not suit your pretty face. Flashing you yet another smile, your best friend extended her arm so that you guys could initiate your little secret handshake before pulling you into yet another embrace. The bond you two shared was incomparable. But for now, it was time that you guys parted ways. “Good! I’mma go take a shower and then I’m up outta here. Text me when you get back home, we can go out to eat or sum’.” You couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved, knowing that your tribe was as strong as ever now. You were in good hands for sure. 

“Alright. What you getting into today?” and the better question may have been what was about to get into her. Looking back at you with her tongue extended, Niesha was more than enthused to fill you in. “Oh me? I’m going to go see my boyfriend. He was in the playoffs game this weekend and he came back to Miami today.” Now, it was no secret that Niesha was by far the most promiscuous of your friends group and she kept her options wide open but dating a producer one day and seeing a basketball player the next was insane. She obviously had her hands full so you’d give her a bit of relief by getting up and taking care of yourself. “Girl, ion know what I’mma do with you.” “Pray for me. That’s what you can do.” Causing the two of you to burst into laughter. But you had to say, regardless, it felt good to have someone around that made you feel much lighter. For now, you’d follow up on your earlier promise of going to go see your uncle. And hopefully gain a little clarity on your situation. 

“I feel you, Granny. I know you’re with me but I don’t think you need to worry anymore. Still..what is that you wanna tell me? What do you need me to know?”

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Unbeknownst to you though, you weren’t the only one hoping to gain some insight and get some help in your life right now. Although, you were probably a bit more perceptive to getting said assistance than the man you were seeing a short while ago. After sleeping in far longer than normal for what was probably the third day in a row, Eren found himself awoken to beaming sunshine and an empty bed, only surrounded by crinkled sheets and an empty Crown bottle near his pillow. Another long night of working on projects and downing liquor to drown out any intrusive thoughts that may have plagued his mind. From impending court dates to online chatter, he wanted to shut all of it out.  12:15PM displayed across the top of his iPhone screen as he rolled over and wiped his eyes. He figured there was no sense in lying here any longer and pretending to be asleep. Instead, he’d position to the side of the bed, step into his house slippers and stretch before heading towards the bathroom to perform his normal morning routine. Brushing his teeth, washing his face and getting ready for the day ahead. Or what was left of it rather…after a warm shower and getting his long locks styled into a half up, half down style and finally shaving that mustache and stubble that had begun to form, Eren felt like a new man. Now he was ready to take on any and everything…or so the hard working artist thought! Truthfully, it was that motivation and desire to curate something incredible that had driven him to a third night of drinking and producing. Sure, he was having fun with the whole process and having his friends over had put him in much lighter spirits but when it was all said and done, he was no more satisfied with what he was hearing than when he started. It was frustrating! However, his saving grace may have been coming a lot sooner than he thought..finishing up his morning routine and gathering his bearings, Eren took a look in the mirror along with a deep sigh before heading out. 

He’d make his way downstairs, shuffling in those slippers and sweats down the stairs to be greeted by one of his housekeepers, and truthfully, a woman who was like family to him. “Oh, good morning, Mr. Jaeger. Glad to see you’re feeling better.” An older lady with salt and pepper hair and the sweetest southern accent he’d heard. She saw Eren like a son and took care of him accordingly but she also stayed on his case just the same. An angel on earth if he’d ever seen one and the best damn cook in the world. His very first time trying the delicacies known as soul food was by her hands and he damn near cried it was so good. As always, the two would exchange a hug.. “Good morning, miss Gloria. Sorry, I was a little busy last night so I didn’t get to say bye..” chatting as the pair made their way to the kitchen, where she’d offer to make him breakfast but he’d have to skip out on that delicious meal today because he was determined to make his new hit or die trying! 

“You sure, baby? I can make somethin’ real quick. Can’t be working on an empty stomach.”

“I appreciate it, Miss Gloria. But I’ll be fine. This’ll do for now. I’m going to be in the music room for a little bit before I head out to the studio.” declaring as he retrieved a green smoothie and granola bar from the fridge. He knew that one of the key components to getting that perfect song but being a workhorse in general was nourishing his body. Or so it was what he was told! His mentor would kick his ass if she knew he was downing Dusse like water and smoking like a chimney. She told him that his voice wouldn’t be worth two farts in the wind if he kept that up. Unfortunately for EJ, he wouldn’t have to wait to be subjected to those lashings again..as Miss Gloria had a tidbit of information that she neglected to share with him. “Oh yeah! Eren honey, there was sum’ I forgot to tell you.” Before she could disclose said information, he was walking off, staring down at his phone; responding to a text about some upcoming projects he had been requested to work on. It was as he was rounding the corner to the open foyer where his grand piano was stationed did he hear..and see a sight that he was not prepared for. It was the notes for one of his earliest tracks, a song that wasn’t about violence or drugs but not the most tame either and yet, it was the most beautiful rendition he had ever heard. Only one person could take such a song and transform it this way.. 

“It’s about time you woke up. I would’ve had you doing vocal runs for an hour back in the day for showing up this late.”

That person was none other than five time Grammy-winning singer, songwright and the woman who taught the EJ that the world loved now, everything he knew when it came to composing; Vivian James-Ackerman. Some of his biggest hits were arrangements composed with her assistance. Oftentimes dubbed the Queen of Neo Soul, rivaling the likes of Erykah Badu, Ari Lennox and Lauryn Hill, Vivian James made some of the most sultry and vulgar lyrics sound like silk and her alluring presence had captivated the hearts of many, including her long time sweetheart and former musical rival, the AMG president himself, Levi Ackerman. Whilst taking some time away before the release of what could very well be her last album, the songstress decided to take a role at her husband’s company and her label as his creative director. So who better to help him derive inspiration and regain focus than the woman who helped kickstart it all. Seeing as how she was his biggest advocate and the one who landed him his audition with AMG years ago. Vivian never lost faith in her protege and she wasn’t about to start now. Even if his spark had dwindled a bit, his fire was far from being put out. As far as she was concerned, he had work to do! 

“Aunt Vi!” akin to that of a little child seeing a long distant relative, he’d come over and embrace her. In her eyes, he was still that sixteen year old boy who came to Miami without so much as a single dollar to his name, determined to make it. That’s who he was doing this for..

“Eren, sweetheart. I’m so happy to see you. I feel like it’s been ages. How’ve you been?” That was a question he barely wanted to answer. He was certain that everyone in the world had gotten wind of his recent arrest and his fight with Mikasa was probably all the talk behind closed doors at AMG right now. So she probably already knew the real answer. Even so, his response was: “I’m doing okay. Just been a little tired.” Taking a seat next to Vivan and a sip of his drink before she turned to the side to face him. She knew better than that and before she left here, she was going to make certain that he did better than just a measly ‘okay’. Furrowing her eyebrow, Vivian, leaned back and swallowed a lump in her throat before proposing her next question. “A little tired, huh? Well a little birdy told me that you’ve had quite the week. Care to elaborate?” Which was secretly code for ‘I already know the full story and truth so you might as well tell me anyways’. And so, he’d begin to explain how when he came back from Houston, he found his driveway swarmed with reporters, one of whom decided to dent his brand new car, which made him flip out. It was that little outburst that landed him with a nice little mugshot that was circulating the internet; spreading like wildfire on Tik Tok and Twitter..causing his fangirls and simps alike to fawn over the dark hair, smile and narrowed eyes. He had gone viral for his looks just as much as his music, which wasn’t shocking..but as if getting arrested wasn’t enough. He then found out the reason for said arrest and swarm of crazed paps at his door was one of his very own best friends. 

“I see.”

the only words she uttered before suddenly winding her hand back and smacking Eren upside his head shortly thereafter. To say he was taken aback by her sudden hit, that was an understatement! 

“Ow! What the hell, Aunt Vi?! Why’d you do that?”

and the answer was quite simple. Because somebody, anybody needed to knock some sense in that big ass, empty skull of his. And there was no one more fit to do so than her. Seeing as how his mom was all the way in Jersey and couldn’t lay hands to him, she’d make certain to keep him well disciplined in her absence, even if he was a grown man! 

“Because, Eren!..you’re always acting without thinking. I mean, honestly. Canceling on an important meeting like that last minute? What is wrong with you? We all thought you had gotten sick again and here you are gallivanting and acting like a damn teenager.” Taken aback by his mentor’s response, EJ merely scoffed at the idea that he had any wrongdoing in the situation. “I don’t understand why you’re mad at me. She’s the one that caused all of this in the first place. Why not just come talk to me like an adult. We’re best friends..” amidst his rambling, Eren would come to a realization that it took repeating aloud to truly understand. Among the complete irony in his statement as well. Here he was griping about concise communication yet it was his lack thereof that caused Mika to make the drastic decision to allow that article to be published. Sulking into his seat, he’d continue on talking..”..have been for as long as I can remember. We used to tell each other everything and when it came to my music, she always supported me. She’d listen in on all my recording sessions, give me feedback. Even though being an artist wasn’t her thing, she loved music. Her voice is still insane after all this time. She knew music..now it just feels like she’s only concerned about meeting a deadline or getting her next big break. Didn’t realize how much this industry changes people..even the ones you love..” It was then that Vivian would offer her input, caressing his back as he sat there, staring blankly ahead with a hand tucked underneath his chin. 

“That’s because you guys aren’t kids anymore. Honey, there comes a time in all of our lives when we have to do things we don’t want to. I’m sure she’d kill to sit up in the studio with you and everyone else, partying and making songs. But I’m sure she’d love it even more if she didn’t have to chase you to the ends of the earth just to do her job. She’s got a ton of pressure on her shoulders as not just the head of PR..but as a daughter, a niece, a soon to be wife. Eren, sweetheart, her priorities are different now and if you’re truly her friend, you’ll respect that. Was she wrong with how she went about it? Absolutely and she has to reflect on that if she wants to keep her position but I don’t think she’s the only one that needs to do some soul searching.” Honestly, there was no way that he could attest that. `It was true..they were all grown up now so there was no room for childish feelings and antics. Her actions were only a result of the selfishness he had displayed. Scratching his ear, Eren  would just release a loud sigh and shrug his shoulders once more. “Yeah, yeah..I get it.” Confessing as he stood from his seat and stared out towards the window. Her words were always so deep and meaningful..much like the lyrics to her songs. The messages in her music were meant to resonate with the soul, even if you couldn't comprehend them. She applied the same to how she spoke to others. Her spiritual persona was more than a ruse to sell albums..this was how she was.

“So what do I do? I mean, it’s not like my inspiration is just gonna come out of thin air. I can’t make an album overnight.” 

maybe so but he knew as well as she did that no one was asking for such an impossible feat. The only thing they wanted was for him to try...just then, the notes of a very familiar melody began to sound out from the piano, along with Vivian’s unmistakable and mellifluous melody. A sound that was untouchable by her peers and beyond. And a very familiar song..one that the two would sing all the time during his younger days. When they were finishing up a show for the seasoned veteran, she'd ask to hear him play. Many times, it was to gauge his vocal capabilities but others? She just truly loved bonding with him over music and the fact that he had the willingness to learn. At first, he was hesitant and didn’t feel like doing so but this song always brought him a sense of comfort and peace..it made him happy. “C’mon, sing with me.” Without uttering a word outside of the lyrics, the two would begin to belt out the tune as Eren slowly shuffled back towards the bench. Eventually, he’d sit back down and tilt his head over onto her shoulder as they finished out the verse. There was something so serene about just belting your heart out with someone you loved dearly..

“There’s my EJ.” Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, Vivian leaned over and placed a gentle peck to Eren’s temple and it brought him immense warmth. Having that motherly and familial love always kept him grounded. “No matter how long you take or what path you go down, I’ll always be proud of you. Everyone will. This is a marathon, not a race. You go at your own speed, and when you’re ready..you go make this album your bitch.” which brought forth a hearty laugh from EJ, who was in much higher spirits and much more motivated. “Thank you, Aunt Vi.” But there were still two obvious elephants in the room. One being..

“Now..about this young lady you’ve been seeing…” and it was in that moment that Eren would simply roll his eyes and continue nursing his shake. It was the last thing he wanted to address, especially when he hadn’t spoken to said young lady in some days. And the fact that Vivian was in on the whole ordeal had just made it worse. Of course, he should’ve known that his mentor would be the very person that Mikasa would go and cry to. 

“I don’t know what or who you’re talking about. I’m single.” What he should’ve known is that playing coy wasn’t going to work on someone who knew him as well as his own mom did. Eyeing his entire frame, Vivian placed a hand underneath her chin and offered up a smug grin in the process. “Oh for real?…so I guess the name (y/n) means nothing, huh?” The sheer mention of your name invokes an almost automatic smile on his features. Immediately, his eyes lit up and a faint smirk appeared..hell, even the memories of you guys’ shared time together began to plague his mind..that was until he snapped out of his trance! “Yes, exactly. I mean..it’s not like I don’t care about her or anything. She’s literally perfect, probably the only girl who’s had my attention but you know me..I don’t chase anyone. Besides, I haven’t even heard from her in a while. She’s probably long moved on by now. And I can’t blame her..shit, who wants to be attached to somebody who can’t stay out of trouble?” But just as Armin had told him, your absence had nothing to do with that. Trust, you had thought about him just as heavily but there was no way you were in the mental state to see him, less known behave like the girl he had seen in Texas. 

“Y’know..sometimes, I think you’re your own biggest enemy, Eren. I mean, cut yourself some slack, kid. It was one screw up and an invoked one at that. Listen, stop using this as a crutch to not confront your feelings. You rather sulk than to face shit and get it done. If you truly want this music thing to work, to shut your critics up or even get the girl you want, you gotta stop looking for an excuse in everything. “Someone who stays in trouble” please..she knew you had that mile long rap sheet when she met you at the club opening and still liked your ass. You wanna see her again, don’t you?” The very obvious question needed no answer but she wanted to hear him say it. She was absolutely correct..Eren would rather run and not be vexed under the guise of not giving a fuck because it didn’t require any effort but this time, that wasn’t going to fly. Either he confronted this or it would all slip from his grasp, including you. That decade-long music career he sacrificed it all for, his fame, his happiness..he was the only thing standing in the way of that! 

“..yes, I wanna see her.” “And you want to continue making music as well, right?” Receiving a nod shortly after..Vivian would close down the piano cover and slowly stand from her seat. Her work here was done and completed as far as she was concerned. But there was one more thing that needed to be said..

“Then go get it. Don’t stop until you have everything you want. You owe that much to yourself. God, it’s just like talking to that damn boss of yours. Levi used to do the same thing. Always looking for an excuse not to care about something. Pouring all his energy into work and a little bit into everything else, enough to get by. He’d tell me all the time that it didn’t matter if we ever got married because ‘we loved each other.’ And that was sufficient . Ten years with that man almost went down the drain until he came groveling because I told him I was done compromising. Being nonchalant gets you nowhere. You have to find something you cherish and pour your heart into it, otherwise, it’s all pointless..don’t sit around and lose it trying to be prideful..” 

As correct as she was, Eren was beginning to have his fill of lectures from those around him. All he wanted to do now was focus on his music and move past all of this drama. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he’d exhale a deep sigh and get up from his seat to show Vivian to the door. Although it was needed, he was tired of being fussed at! “I hear you..” sighing whilst walking her towards the door. Shuffling her expensive bag onto her shoulder, Vivian turned on the heel of her Giuseppe stilettos once more before embracing her sweet Eren and bidding him adieu. As always, she let him know that she loved him and he’d do the same. At the moment, he had felt much more calm and serene than he had in some days. He was excited for what was to come now; returning to that age old cliche…knowing that he could truly accomplish anything he set his mind to! But it would seem that his peace and quiet wouldn’t last for much longer. Once he saw Vivian out, he then did exactly as he intended and returned to his downstairs music room, in hopes of getting at least one of his tracks completed. However, that hope was short lived when only fifteen minutes after getting to work; barely even getting his mixing software booted up, he was so rudely interrupted!

“M-Mr. Jaeger, you have a guest!” the somewhat shaken voice of one of his housekeepers didn’t even register to Eren once he heard it or what she was saying. But he’d respond with a sigh and a bit of a frustrated huff, as he had no interest in entertaining anyone else for the day. He had business to conduct..regardless, his uninvited companion had other plans. “Too bad! Open this goddamn door..” and the second he heard the voice through the muffled sounds of the wooden barrier, he couldn’t help but to laugh because the only thought on his mind was kicking the ass of the person it was coming from! Because if anybody was going to catch it for interrupting him, it would be his sworn enemy. Granting his housekeeper permission to do so, she’d let him in and it was none other than the infamous Atelier Kiss lead singer, Jean Kirschtein. Without so much as even looking up from the screen, Eren donned that signature smug smirk whilst clicking away at the various settings. “You wanna tell me why your ugly ass is standing foot in my house and better yet, why I shouldn’t beat the shit out of you for showing up unannounced?” But Jean wasn’t phased by his threats or subtle attempts to get underneath his skin today..he had to avenge his woman’s honor and was here to do so regardless of what he said. “Not if I don’t kick yours first, you son of a bitch.” 

EJ, swiveling around in his chair to face the obviously irate male, who had been practically chomping at the bit to get his hands on him. About a week late in Eren’s most humble opinion, but to each his own. What pissed Jean off the most was that he was seemingly unaffected by the inevitable falling out between him and his manager. Meanwhile, her little boy toy was looking to rip the rapper to shreds. “Did you call my wife a coke head, you fucking asshole?!” To which, the obviously unbothered rapper would respond with a laugh. “I said she was..past tense Jeanathan. That’s your problem, you don’t listen and neither does she. You’re both a match made in hell, I swear.” As badly as he wanted to haul off and hit him, Jean could do nothing more than suck his teeth and huff. The sheer sight of him made the rockstar absolutely livid. Especially when he considered the fact that he had watched his fiancee storm around her office and their home, angry and upset about something she refused to share. He had not the slightest clue or inkling that it was this jackass who was the root cause. It wasn’t until he all but forced the information out of her did Jean get the answer he was looking for and despite Mikasa’s pleading for him not to press the issue, he hopped into the driver’s seat of his new R8 Spyder and sped over to confront him. What he didn’t count on was for him to be moving so casually without a single ounce of remorse or concern for what he said. Especially since they were supposed to be best friends. 

“Don’t try to play coy with me, you bastard. Mikasa told me everything and how you disrespected her. I don’t give a damn how long she’s been your friend, you don’t talk to my wife like you’ve lost your mind.” As composed as he seemed, Eren was truly ready to put this entire ordeal behind him and the fact that he was coming here, messing up his energy…had him ready to channel his less than savory side! Finally hopping up from his seat, he’d stand to face the other male and warn him to step off. 

“First of all, pump your brakes, boy scout. I didn’t ‘disrespect’ anyone..I know accountability isn’t exactly her thing but while she was bumping those gums of hers, did she happen to mention to you how she made the call to let those dumbasses over at TMZ publish that bullshit article full of rumors and had my driveway swarmed with cameramen? Or how she thought in that pretty little, empty head of hers that somehow, that would get me to put out some music? Did she tell you that or did she do exactly as she always does…fill your stupid ass head up with whatever you want to hear, bat her eyelashes and like the pussy whipped idiot you are, you came rushing over here ready to fight me, a week later..and get dog walked, I might add. All because she lacks critical thinking skills. Did I hit the nail on the head or what?” By that time, Jean had no comeback, argument or will to debate with him after that. With more context, it was clear that she didn’t have much of a leg to stand on. As badly as he hated Eren, even he had to admit that this whole situation could’ve been avoided. And that sadly, he was also not to blame!

Sucking and smacking his teeth, Jean would place his hands to his hips before looking to the floor in disbelief. “Tcht..whatever. I’m sure she had her reasons. You don’t exactly make her job easy y’know..” despite their differences, it seemed that the two had reached an impasse. There was no point in turning this argument physical because honestly, at this point..it was futile. Like he said, a week had already passed and even though tensions were still high between the old friends, adding fuel to a docile fire would spell trouble for everyone involved. If word got back that AMG’s two biggest artists had come to blows for the PR manager’s sake, President Ackerman would undoubtedly suspend or fire Mikasa and they’d be selling their music on Soundcloud for a hot dog and three dollars. None of which they wanted to happen. Returning to his seat, Eren released a heavy breath and kicked his feet up with his hands splayed across his chest. 

“Or so I’ve been told..listen, you know I care about Mika as much as you do. After all, she’s like family to me. We’ve been through a lot of shit together and I’ll be the first to admit, I give her a hard time, hell, sometimes on purpose. She may have pissed me off and I’m still mad with her but I don’t hate her..never could..I know an apology won’t mean a damn thing to her right now, but if it means anything..just tell her I’m trying, alright? You and I have never seen eye to eye and trust me, I pray for your downfall every night..” earning him a scoff and middle finger in response. Eren continued on as he glared up at the screen once more. Thinking of how the two used to sing and laugh together..a much simpler time before all the fame. 

“But one thing we can agree on is that she’s the best at what she does and deserves nothing but my all. I owe her that much.” and with the heartfelt declaration, it would seem that Jean had a newfound respect for his arch nemesis. He didn’t want to admit this to him but he figured since he took the high road, he couldn’t let him be the only one showing a shred of maturity. Exhaling a deep sigh, he’d pinch the bridge of his nose and stare towards the wall, avoiding eye contact as he proceeded to give a small amount of praise to the last person he wanted to do so for...in his own way, of course!  “...for fuck’s sake…you know she only goes to this extreme lengths because she believes in you, right?” which made the rapper double take, not fully grasping the point he was trying to make. “She’d never do all of this for anyone else. Hell, I don’t even know what she sees in you. Sure, she works hard for all of her clients..but you? Even though you ditched her, she stood in front of a room full of stiff ass execs and told them all that not one person on that label was a better artist than you and she was willing to bet her whole career on it.”

“Every client underneath my belt is an exact reflection of my managerial skills. If his next album doesn’t go number one, I’ll gladly relinquish my title of Public and Talent Relations Manager. But I think you and I both know, Mr. President, he isn’t going to go down so easily. You can sign whoever you want, try to replicate and copy his style a million times over but there’s only one EJ the Don.”

Those were her exact words and Eren truly couldn’t believe that she had placed such a huge wager on his success. Was she really willing to risk her entire career just for him? It was insane! But an indicator if nothing else that she was rooting for him. And it would seem that she wasn’t the only one in his corner.. 

“Do you get it now? So don’t make my baby look stupid, you inconsiderate asshole. She thinks the world of you..and even though it makes me sick to admit..she’s not wrong. You’re not half bad. So stop pissing around and show everybody you’re not washed up. Besides, it’s getting kinda boring on the charts without you to trample over..” offering up a snide smirk and from there, Eren knew what had to be done. Snickering, he’d mirror Jean’s sentiment. It would seem that the tension in the room had eased up quite a bit and they had come to an agreement. “Yeah, I’m sure it must be hard not living in my shadow all the time. It’s what you’re used to.” “Please, you’d still be sweeping the floors after my shows if Miss Vivian didn’t feel bad for your sorry ass.” granted, they could never just get along. But both men knew that he had something to prove and now that the air had been cleared about this entire situation, he was going to leave him to his devices and let him achieve that award winning sound only he could cultivate. But not before he gave a rather stern warning..heading to the door, Jean would turn and glare at Eren. 

“I’m glad we had this talk but let’s get one thing clear..you ever make my girl that upset again, I don't care what the circumstances are, I’m beating the shit out of you without a single question asked.” but as always, Eren dismissed him with another one of his sarcastic comebacks. “I’m pissing my pants just thinking about it.’ pretending to quiver before slamming the door in his frenemy’s face. “Have a good day, Jeannie Boy. Don’t come back to my house if you like not resembling Swiss cheese.” shouting through the door before taking his seat yet again. It had been a rather eventful, exhausting day already and it had only begun. For now, he was tuning out all distractions and focusing on what was important: his craft. His one passion and love in this crazy thing he called life. This is what meant the most to him and he didn’t have time to think about bullshit publications, angry fiances or even his manager’s asinine ultimatum. This was all about him and his next project. And this time, it was personal..in what was a move that was seemingly out of character, he’d retrieve the sleek silver iPhone sitting next to his keyboard and unlock it, going straight for the camera; where he’d film a very short ten second snippet of his instrumental he had been working to curate before scrolling over to the instagram app and uploading it to his story with it simply captioned: “working..” and immediately, thousands flocked to view it. This was a new era he was stepping in and he was excited for what it held.

Little did he know..more than success on the music homefront awaited him and in a strange turn of events, he’d be getting somewhat of a second chance on a missed opportunity. One that would be coming around a lot sooner than he expected..and in a way he’d never forget. 

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       page break + time skip:  friday night, Miami Marina…Armin’s

yacht party commences!..

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Friday, July eighteenth..a very warm and humid evening ; quite befitting for tonight’s events that would be transpiring. For what was being anticipated as the party of the summer, it was most certainly living up to its hype. It was only nine o'clock and people were beginning to file in by the droves to secure their spot on the Artlert family vessel known as the Cerulean, affectionately named after the crystalline waters it had sailed on in the past. The four hundred foot superyacht housed over twenty five rooms, a dining hall, three floors and a party area..ideal for housing the nearly one hundred invited guests on his list. A group of elite entertainers gathering to enjoy some fun and relaxation. Rappers, singers, dancers, influencers and models were set to join the infamous ArminHammer for this little shindig and with the chance to cozy up to the ever so handsome playboy producer and his equally attractive friends, none of them would turn this down. And of course, any other eligible bachelors coming aboard were hoping for their chance to shoot shots and score with some of the internet’s sexiest honies. Girls with top tier bodies and faces who were equally as fine in real life, strutting around in scantily clad bikinis..it was a dream. It was all about having a good time and letting loose. With AMG’s impending PalmFest around the corner, many of the participating talents were looking for a moment of cool down. With rehearsals and their own tours, albums and press releases also taking place aside from that, this weekend was one they were all looking forward to. Not for a lack of being able to afford their own cargo to cruise around on but because they knew if Armin could do nothing else, he could produce a hit and he could throw one hell of a party! Music was blaring from all ends of the deck..with everything from Young Nudy to Megan Thee Stallion, he made sure to curate all the songs that would get some ass moving on this boat. Among some of the first to arrive were his very own crew from the Dead Boys Society collective, Onyakopon and Connie Springer. Known to the world as Ony The God and Prince Cee. As talented as they were undeniably fine, the duo were known for their amped up, high energy trap tracks that would oftentimes feature Connie with his more higher pitched slightly auto tuned vocals and Ony with his deeper tone and more refined flow. They had released a plethora of songs together and even put out a joint EP that went crazy among TikTok users with their most viral song ‘Nike Tech’ being featured in edits everywhere. 

“Dude, glad y'all made it.”

“With all these fine ass hoes, you thought we was gon’ miss this? Please.” 

Both donning two piece Versace swim sets, torsos full of tattoos and expensive jewelry, including the VVS grills in their mouths..the two men wasted no time getting acquainted; greeting armin with a dapped up handshake whilst housing white styrofoam cups filled to the brim in their opposite ones. To say they were pregaming was an understatement. To satisfy his own curiosity, Armin asked if they had seen or heard from EJ, who no one anticipated showing up in the first place. But alas, the answer was the same as it always was when he got invited places. 

“Nah man, I tried texting him but he left that shit on read. You know his ass won’t show up.” Ony stated as he began to spark up a pre rolled blunt. Which was a little disheartening to Armin. He knew that the two had very different approaches to this lifestyle and that he definitely was on the more lackadaisical side but even if just for a night, he wanted his best friend to come out and enjoy himself. The three would settle into their seats on the outside cabin; an all white leather sectional that would soon be occupied by some of the beautiful ladies he had summoned. A few were down in the bathrooms getting changed or making touch ups. Everyone was set to be here at eleven before it left the marina, set sail throughout the night and then docked back here at three am to continue partying. It was going to be a fun night indeed..

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up either..he ain’t come out the fucking studio all week. Every time I call him, he’s at his computer. That motherfucker don’t rest for nothing or nobody when he gets started.” which was the truest sentiment they had ever heard. However, they couldn’t sit and dwell on what they knew to be the inevitable. Eren just wasn’t the partying type. Sure, he was by far the most lit when it came to being on stage but he wasn’t popping out on his own time. Just then, the trio would be greeted by more familiar faces and an unexpected surprise. It was Mikasa and Jean, who were all dressed for the occasion..or lack thereof! Sporting a similar outfit to the rest of the guys, the singer escorted his bride to be onto the ship first and when she stepped before the three gentlemen who had been sitting there, it completely took them off guard! 

“H-hey! Mika, Jean..what’s up?” “Hey, Miss Mika..” Although their hands and mouths were greeting them as a couple, all of their eyes were most certainly fixated on Mikasa! Sporting an all black microkini that accentuated her very tone, inked and curvaceous figure, it was no wonder why Jean was stuck like glue on her..that body was something crazy! Having only seen her in very formal business attire and Balmain dresses, this was a complete shift. Even during the days as a wild child performer, she had never shown this much skin. But that was then and this was now. No one would’ve ever guessed she was hiding all of that underneath there.

“Jesus Christ, boys. You’re not in middle school, act like you’ve seen a pair of tits before and pick your jaws up off the ground.” causing them all to snap from their trance. Lightly smacking her gum, she’d hold a hand up to Jean, who was eager to lash out about their perverse glares.  “Down boy..it’s fine. Besides, mama’s off the clock and ready to submerge my liver in enough vodka to sterilize a bullet wound.”  Armin, who had gotten up to greet his other bestie, was met with a playful kiss to the cheek as the two collapsed hands.

“Well you look amazing, Mika. Respectfully, of course.”

“You’re too charming.” 

But before he could show them around and even offer refreshments, there was one more surprise on the docket. “By the way, we brought someone along. I hope you guys don’t mind..” of course, any friend of theirs was a friend to their entire group. Waving a hand towards the stairs, Mikasa would usher the guest up and if they weren’t already blown away by their PR manager.. 

“This is my gorgeous assistant and newest member of the AMG family, Ms. Sasha Braus.”

Then she’d surely do the trick! A beautiful brunette with a slender yet toned figure and a sweet, innocuous face that would have anyone gushing over her. But it wasn’t just her looks that would win everyone over but that soon to be revealed, rambunctious personality. Although she was strictly business during the day, Mikasa had become well acquainted with the aspiring young entertainer from Kentucky and needless to say, the girl was a star in the making. Her charm, demeanor..she was hilarious! Not to mention, she had never seen anyone with an appetite like hers..an appreciation dinner for her hard work had racked up a three hundred dollar bill. Even so, she had been working alongside the youngest Ackerman to not only earn money to afford her expensive move from the countryside to Miami but experience as well. She wanted to break into acting and singing so under Mikasa’s tutelage, she was sure to make it. And with none of the professional restraints to hold them back, everyone else was sure to get a glimpse of what she dealt with on a daily basis!

“Miss Mika! You didn’t tell me you were friends with the Dead Boys Society..holy shit! Dude, I’m like you guys’ biggest fan.” which brought forth a warmhearted laugh from them all. They could see that she was clearly a ball of energy. “Well thank you, miss Sasha. And it’s nice to meet you. We’ve heard a lot.” “Look, if it was about that time in Vegas, I so didn’t cheat and clear out the craps table…I’m just one hell of a dice player slash flirt. I did however clear that buffet and let me tell you, best damn seafood I’ve ever had in my life.” Causing them all to erupt in chuckles. Needless to say the new addition was going to fit right in.. 

“Aye, Mikasa. Your girl is pretty funny. Aye, mama. You smoke at all?” Connie, who was sitting spread legged, waved her over as he toiled with his blunt and Sasha didn’t hesitate to accept. “If Prince fucking Cee is asking, absolutely.” and from there, it was like a friendship made by fate itself. She was wild, hilarious and unbelievably down to earth. The type of girl Connie loved to kick it with! Personally, he was over the baddie model types who were tens by all accounts but had zero personality. Inviting her over, the two began to spark up a conversation; Ony joining in shortly after and that left Jean, Mika and Armin to converse. Of course, the question lingering on Armin’s mind was the obvious elephant in the room. 

“I highly doubt he’ll show but..if EJ happens to come, are you gonna be cool with it, Mika? I know you two aren’t exactly best friends right now.” Her body language immediately told her answer as she tensed and leaned back against fiance, who was quick to coil his arms around her shoulders to calm those nerves. But she still chose to lie and wear a facade that it was all good.. “Yeah..I’ll be fine. Besides, like you said, I highly doubt he’ll come anyway. He hates everything that doesn’t involve work. Trust me, I won’t ruin your party.” “Yeah, and if he tries anything, I’ll just push him overboard.” Jean chimed in and invoked a laugh from them both. 

“Well let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. For now, let’s just have a good time..” and that was something that they could all agree on! Cheering, the trio worked their back over towards the deck and proceeded with the festivities. Pouring up drinks and sparking up blunts, the festivities were about to commence!..

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About an hour and a half later, the once quiet yacht was now full of guests and booming with clamor. An uproar of loud laughter, singing along to various tracks and overall chatter filled the watercraft as more people began to file in..among the second wave of attendees to board was none other than the host’s alleged lady and her best friend..(y/n). Just like EJ, no one had betted on you showing face for the occasion but once you stepped foot onto the deck, you were surprisingly met with a barrage of drunken cheers and laughter.

“Niesha! (Y/N)!” 

“Hi, girls! So glad you made it..”

The first to greet you both was Mikasa, who was already a good five or six drinks into the festivities..downing a combination of vodka and tequila shots. Running her tongue along the rim, the short haired heroine made her way over and draped her arms around the two of you. It was most certainly a different light from what either of you were used to seeing her in. The normally strict and stoic manager was now as loose as a cannon. Licking alcohol off of her fiance’s exposed abs and dancing to provocative music. It’s what happened when the bigwigs finally let their hair down and have some fun. “You two look amaaazing.” donning in a drunken stupor. She couldn’t stop ogling either of you, which was to be expected. Niesha, sporting a lime green two piece with gold belly chains wrapping her toned torso. Her hair styled into perfect finger waves and her dark skin aglow with glitter. You on the other hand? An all white ensemble with matching fishnet cover ups. Thirty six inches of jet black Brazilian wavy flowing down your back and gold jewelry accenting your limbs. It was obvious that both of you were determined to have all eyes and attention on you. Which wouldn’t take long to attract..

“We could say the same for you, miss ma’am. Looking fine as ever.” Causing the executive to blush and give each of you tiny pecks to the cheek. “Well I’m not too bad. Listen, you girls better enjoy yourselves tonight. Especially you, (Y/N). You’ve been working so hard and the worst is yet to come so you better take advantage of this time off.” and you couldn’t agree more. Modeling gigs, club appearances and a special project that Mr. Smith himself had asked you to be a part of..it was a lot! But nonetheless, you were ready for what the future held. Tonight however, you were excited to celebrate and have fun. Whilst the three of you spoke, another person joined the fray. Someone who was only familiar by name alone but you had heard quite the stories about..

“Now, now, Mikasa..I know how you get when you’re drunk but please, don’t steal my girl. This beautiful lady here is spoken for..” just then, a blonde with tattoos littering his frame and a cup in hand scoured his way to Niesha’s side before tugging her towards him. He’d eventually wrap an arm around her waist, planting a searing kiss to her lips, along with a plethora to her neck. You quite honestly had never seen your best friend so happy! Despite her claiming that nothing serious was taking place between them. “Baeee, you gon’ mess up my makeup.” “I’m going to be doing plenty of that later on anyways, why you playing?...” muttering into her ear in what was supposed to be an attempt at being discreet. However, you heard it all and glared away awkwardly until they caught wind and straightened up. A far cry from her earlier trash talk about playing and dogging him. “My bad. Where’s my manners? I’m Armin. It’s..a pleasure, miss (Y/N). Please, make yourself at home. Drink and eat as much as you’d like..anybody my baby considers a sister is like family to me.” Such a sweet gesture for someone who had barely met you but you were certain that both Niesha and Eren had given him an earful about you. “Well thank you. Niesha’s told me a lot and it’s nice to finally meet you.” Accepting the sweet gesture, you’d shake hands but he was adamant on hugging you and coiled those toned arms around your frame. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all!

“Well, (Y/N)..girl, I hate to leave you but I..have some important business to take care of.” “Already? We just got here..” Not even a full fifteen minutes on the yacht and she was leaving you to go get some dick..unbelievable! But that was to be expected. She was fucking with the son of a billionaire after all and even though Niesha could pull anyone, men and women alike, she was stuck on him for various reasons. So you’d assure her that you were fine as she was being carted away by a gentle hand tugging her along. You figured she’d be preoccupied for the whole night..

“No sense in being a wallflower, I guess..”

Thinking to yourself as you glared around the deck at the various partygoers..everyone who was somebody in this city was aboard and although you didn’t make it your mission to get awestruck, it was kind of humbling to be rubbing elbows with some huge names. With a faint smile creeping across your lips, you’d take Mikasa’s sound advice and let loose for a little bit. You’d see a few familiar faces and even dance a little to the music with Connie and Ony, who had also come to say hello. However, it didn’t take long for your social battery to begin to tick. Having not even been there for an hour and you were feeling a bit out of sorts. Even with the clubbing, party goer lifestyle that influencers were expected to portray, you were the opposite and only truly popped out if a fee were involved. Even if socializing wasn’t your forte, you’d enjoy the night sky, open sea and a good drink. The atmosphere and vibes alone were worth it. Strutting across the deck, you’d pass a couple of attendees chatting about their trip to Venice on a private jet and their new designer bag they just copped. The other group chatted about getting to work with an artist from AMG. They had been dying to do so..before landing in a stool..where you were kindly greeted by a kind bartender. 

“What can I get for you, miss?”

“Strawberry daiquiri, please. Thank you.” Reaching into your little crossbody to retrieve a ten dollar bill for a tip. Even though you were certain he was being paid amicably for this gig. Nonetheless, you’d peer out over the railing, into the water below..just reminiscing. Six years ago, you were barely scraping up change for food and gas money. You and Niesha both. Working some dead end job and living on the left side of your uncle’s duplex..wishing, hoping and praying for a better life. Fast forward and you were being treated to complimentary drinks on the yacht of her boyfriend, who was worth more than anyone on it. Chopping it up with world famous rappers and meeting people you had only ever seen through a TV or phone screen. It was amazing to think about..especially when you considered the fact that a few videos of you twirling a pole in your living room had gotten you here..life was crazy sometimes! But it wasn’t the only thing occupying space in your mind. There was someone who had been weighing heavy there for a minute. Despite trying to pretend otherwise and that you had moved on, you were still thinking about EJ. You knew for a fact that Armin had invited him as well but unlike you, he’d never be able to just drag his best friend along to something like this. Even still, a small part of you had hoped to see him again. It had been weeks since you guys met up in Houston. A night like that wasn’t easy to write off..that was by far the best time you’d had in years. It replayed heavily in your mind; lingering for days afterwards. You were stuck!..which made it all the more depressing to think that perhaps, the little rendezvous meant nothing to him. He probably did this sort of thing all the time..fucking fans after shows, hooking up with models and singers. He was EJ the Don after all..any girl with working eyes and ears would drop their panties for him. Still, he was the first and only person in this business that not only captivated you. Not to mention how sweet he was to you, the very first night you guys met. Maybe it was all moving too fast and this was nothing more than some illustrious fairytale. You couldn’t possibly expect a renowned rapper of all people to be enthralled with you just because you gave him some ass. It was how the game went..just had to hold your head up, take your L in silence and move on. Besides, it wasn’t as if you were expecting a relationship anyways…one drink turned into three and your mind was running circles. 

However, all of your over analyzing and worrying would come to a halt when you heard faint gasps behind you along with footsteps and a deep, rather familiar voice speak out: 

“Sorry, is this seat taken?”...

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

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quick bright things - eren jaeger x afab!reader, 18+!!

okay hi. after my many-months writing hiatus, i am offering up this humble creation. welcome to the world of quick bright things, caught somewhere between a fairytale and a shakespeare play and a priceless piece of jewelry. this was inspired by....a lot of things, from midsummer night's dream to saltburn to the secret history to romeo & juliet like, you name it and i've probably crammed it in here. eren is a lot different than i normally write him (or read him, for that matter), i hope you all find him as lovely as i do! this will be 2 parts (for now...), i'm not sure what else to say except i'm happy to be back and i hope you all love part 1 ₊˚⊹♡

pairing: eren jaeger x reader

wc: 10.4k

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

cws: alcohol, swearing, smut, fingering, reader has female anatomy, wet dreams, allusions to cannibalism (idk that's a stretch it's more of a metaphor), exhibitionism, cum-eating, creepy stepsiblings, rich assholes, throat-closing amounts of sexual tension, i honestly don't even know what to put here

without further ado...

-

"Last year I abstained / this year I devour / without guilt / which is also an art."

“Now don’t forget: university is for discovery, for adventure.” Your mother tucks the front of your shirt into your skirt, tugs at your collar until it’s sitting prettily against the cliff of your collarbones. It’s not a good fabric, this shirt; it’s cheap and scratches uncomfortably at the summer sunburn still lingering on your chest. “It’s for finding your passions, your life path, yourself…”

“Darling, you’ve been philosophizing since breakfast. You’re going to give the poor girl a conniption.” Your father chuckles lightly, swinging the hammer at the wall of your dormitory and finishing the hanging of one of your many posters over your creaky, lofted bed. The posters are bright and colorful, almost garish in the pristine, ancient light pouring in from the windows. With a slow blink, you realize you’re going to take them down later, that they feel incongruous with the dust particles and the oak furniture.

“It’s alright, really.” You manage a smile of compromise, lips clamped tight to hold the flutter of nerves in your throat at bay. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

There’s an expectedly teary goodbye, a small monologue from your father about how much you’ve grown, and a few reminders from your mother to separate the darks and the lights when you do laundry, to focus on your studies. Just before she slips out behind her husband, she grabs you by the shoulders and presses her lips to the side of your head, kisses a blood-red print into the shell of your ear.

“Don’t forget. Find something.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Whether it started with that conversation or with the buildup that accompanied the thirty-six months of monotonous paper-writing and numb boredom of your first three years at Oxford, you can’t be sure. In truth, maybe your first three years weren’t all that boring, and they only seem so by comparison of everything that came after, but you can’t be entirely sure of that either.

What you can be sure of is that something down the line—between meeting Sasha in that class on Milton and squeezing her hand as the plane landed and the dozens of bottles of champagne you’ve consumed over the last weeks—something led you to this moment, standing in this kitchen somewhere outside Verona with your bare feet against the hot clay tiles, staring at the sharp angle of an unfamiliar, tanned collarbone. 

He’s coated in linen: a half-unbuttoned, burnt-orange drape of a shirt is rolled carefully up around strong forearms, and one large, boyish foot peeks out from his baggy jeans, propped up on its throne upon the opposite knee. A golden cross winks at you from his chest, nestled in the sparsest dusting of chest hair and dripping with the same peach juice that’s sliding down his Adam’s apple, from his strong chin, from the crooked smirk that’s pointed at you like a knife.

You recognize him before he speaks– this must be Eren. Sasha’s mentioned him enough times: the shock of rich, dark hair, the lakewater eyes, the way he leans back in his chair like a king and cocks his head like a trickster. This is Eren, and you tell him so.

“Guilty.” The sun compliments everything about him but his smile, a little too sharp with too much danger behind it. It’s a smile made for moonlight. “And you are?”

A memory surfaces in your mind, a cautionary childhood tale. “You can never let a fairy know your name,” Emma tells you, graver than death, crouched in the bushes beside you, “or they steal you away, and you can never be human again.”

“Well?” Eren says expectantly, head leaning even further to the left. He’s studying you, the baggy linen pants pooling around your toes and ruby-studded ears poking out of a fray of frazzled bedhead. You feel naked, feel a wild urge come over you and wonder how his eyes would glow at you if you were. You shiver, goosebumps raising in the stuffy summer air. When his lips twitch, you realize Eren’s noticed; you feel feverish.

You mumble your name at him, as if it’s something given unwillingly. Waking the espresso machine seems like the right thing to do with your hands, and you’re grateful for the noisy mechanical sounds it provides to shatter the still morning. You bring an absentminded hand to rub over the tip of your ear, feel if it’s grown to a point yet.

“We haven’t met, have we? I feel like if we had, I’d remember.”

God, you wish he’d stop talking.

“Well, do you go to Oxford?”

“Sometimes.” You roll your eyes, and he laughs, little bells and glass shattering. “I’ve been abroad for the last semester. I flew in from Egypt a couple of weeks ago.”

“Hm,” you hum to yourself, choosing a small red cup for your morning coffee. You aren’t sure what to say; the most exotic place you’ve ever visited was a seaside town three hours from your house.

You can hear his newspaper crinkling; the sound of him putting it down betrays his arrival behind you, but you still don’t expect the puff of warm breath over your shoulder. He comes into your space like he belongs there, like there’s never been a door that wasn’t held open for him to stride through. “Are you still asleep?”

Before you can answer, you hear a shriek from down the hallway, and you breathe a little sigh of relief, thanking whatever ancient gods that belong to the hills you’re in for the interruption. Venus springs to mind, and you swat her and her entourage of Graces away from you with a huff.

“You absolute asshole!” Historia comes barreling into the kitchen, dramatic, fluffy dressing robe spilling out into the unrelenting summer heat behind her. You realize that in the three weeks you’ve spent with her, you haven’t once seen her in the actual kitchen, watching the way the breakfast chef’s eyes widen at the sight of her as he hurries by with an armful of eggs.

“Stori!” Eren elegantly catches her best attempt at a tackle with the good grace you assume he does everything with, breaking out into a warm peal of laughter. “Since when do you not love a surprise?”

“Since always.” Historia’s face is scrunched up where she’s buried it into the crook of his neck, forehead red with the effort of squeezing Eren as hard as she can. “You could have at least called, I mean– ugh, I didn’t even get the chance to get your favorite–”

“Relax.” Eren urges her, rubbing soothing circles into the small of her back. He carries them both over to his seat, plopping down and curling her up in his lap like a child. Eren holds his cup of coffee to her lips temptingly, and Historia shoves it away with another scowl. You hide your giggle at her antics behind your espresso, not wanting to remind them of your presence, but enjoying the show all the same. “Brat.”

“Ow,” Historia hisses when he pinches her thigh, expression lightening when she catches sight of something on the wall. “I always forget how pretty the kitchen is here.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“Still getting dressed.” Historia’s blue eyes turn to the frescoed ceiling with an irritated huff. “You know he can’t stand to be seen in his pajamas.”

“That’s because he doesn’t wear any,” Eren remarks with an eye roll of his own. “You could have called to let me know we’d adopted such a pretty houseguest for the summer.”

Your face burns with acknowledgement, and you can feel your toes curling into the clay bricks of the floor hard enough to scrape the tip of your pinky. Eren seems satisfied at your bewilderment, letting his eyes drag over your hardly-covered chest lazy as a wandering mouth.

“Why would anyone wear pajamas under those heavy duvets? It’s almost thirty-two degrees out.” Armin breezes in in a feigned display of nonchalance, but you can see the way his eyes skim over Eren like a ship narrowly avoiding an iceberg. The Titanic was inevitable, and so is the gravity of Eren sitting golden on the other side of the room.

“You look good, Min.” Eren squints his eyes at Armin’s shirt, nearly identical to his own. “Where’d you get that?”

“You left it last summer,” Historia hums, tucking her head under Eren’s chin and nuzzling into his chest more completely. Armin makes a soft snort of irritation, grabbing for a fig in the bowl of fruit on the counter and beginning to rummage through the cabinet drawers.

“Do you want half a fig?” Armin’s cool gaze slides to you, and you shake your head, feeling a little underwater as two lifelong relationships unfurl in front of you, your mind still fuzzy from last night’s wine. “Historia?”

Historia says no as Eren says yes, and Armin makes his sound of annoyance again before continuing his rummaging, muttering about the inconvenience of finding a knife.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Sasha, still disheveled with sleep and grinning bright as Christmas morning, pops her head around the doorway. “Shouldn’t you be overseeing the construction of your pyramid?”

“I’m not dead, Sasha,” Eren laughs—it really is distracting when he does that—pulling Sasha onto his other knee, ignoring Historia’s grumbles of discontent. The NYU Men’s Lacrosse t-shirt that Sasha cropped too short rides up, exposing the swell of her breast, but no one acknowledges it. Eren’s hand tucks in snugly around the curve of her hip, easy and natural, and you wonder if his fingers have ever itched to travel up under the hem of her tiny sleep shorts.

“Not dead yet.” Historia glares up at him venomously, reluctantly making room for Sasha to pile onto Eren and smother his face with kisses. Sasha pulls away from him suddenly and frowns.

“Peaches?”

“Where are the knives in this fucking kitchen?” Armin’s growl of frustration is loud enough to make you jump, and Sasha giggles at you.

“Jesus, Armin, you’re going to kill her, and it’s not even noon.” Sasha slips off of Eren’s knee, practically bouncing over to where Armin’s viciously jiggling a locked drawer. She slides open the drawer next to him and draws a long, wide knife from it, passing it to him with the blade extended and her eyes on you. “Did you meet Eren?”

“Careful of his hand!” Historia squeals, shooting an arm out towards Armin as if she can deflect the tip of the blade from across the room.

“It’s fine, Stor.” Armin’s voice floats across his nearly-bare shoulder, mild and careless as it grazes the collar of the too-big button down sliding off of his slim frame.

“That knife’s a little big for a fig, Sasha.” Eren stands, placing Historia on the table and pinching her cheek when she scowls at him.

“There’s no such thing as a too-big knife– listen to me. Did you meet Eren?” Sasha’s fingers are gripping into the flesh of your arm– hard. Your eyes widen in surprise at the urgency in her eyes, like if you haven’t been introduced to Eren, there’s grave danger afoot.

“We met.” It happens quickly and easily, the slide of his heavy arm around your shoulders. You can feel your body tense under the lazy weight of him, big hand wrapped around you like it belongs there. “I don’t think she’s particularly fond of me.”

Eren shoots you a wink that you’re sure is intended to mean something, a reference to an inside joke that you have yet to establish, maybe.

“I didn’t say that,” you say in your own defense, wanting to yank Sasha to the side and demand to know why she hadn’t warned you that Cupid himself was going to greet you in the kitchen this morning. Armin slices the fig neatly in half, a strangely practiced motion performed by small, soft hands. He offers it to you again insistently, and frowns when you shake your head.

“I said I wanted it, ‘Min,” Eren says with a hint of red to his words, snatching the halved fig from Armin’s hand and biting into it voraciously, little pieces of the flesh spattered around the corner of his mouth.

“You’re such a brute,” Armin scoffs, picking the meat of his half out gingerly with an oyster fork that you don’t remember him grabbing from the drawer.

“Why don’t you like Eren?” Sasha pouts at you, grabbing the hand that’s squashed between yours and Eren’s hips. Your palm feels hot against her fingers.

“I said I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say much of anything, to be fair.” Eren’s got the fig pressed to his mouth, digging his teeth and tongue around in the husk of it obscenely enough to make your cheeks warm. Being so close to him is filthy, that cross around his neck is looking you straight in the eye to make sure you feel it. 

“Eren’s always a pest,” Historia provides from her perch on the kitchen table, picking at her perfectly manicured toenails, “why would she like him?”

“You like him plenty,” Armin says, not looking at her. It’s not the first time that’s been brought up, if Historia’s answering sneer is anything to go by.

“You’ll love him if you give him a chance.” Sasha smiles hopefully at you, nodding.

“Yeah,” Eren grins down at you, teeth colored with fig, “give me a chance.”

“Eren, you’re going to scare her off,” Armin says with a roll of his eyes, peering around Eren’s broad shoulders to look you up and down. The way his eyes drag over you makes you feel like there might be a stab wound somewhere on your person that you don’t know about yet, the adrenaline of the moment keeping you numb.

“Back off her, Eren,” Historia echoes, “she’s fun, I don’t want you to make her leave.”

“She’s not going to leave.” Eren looks directly at you as he says it, something in his smile growing imperceptibly darker. A dare. How much will you let me get away with?

You stare and stare at him, ignoring the continued bickering of Armin and Historia in the background. He’s golden and blood-red, oil smeared on his forehead and a crown of thorns nestled in his dark thatch of hair if you look close enough. If you’re not imagining it, his hand might be tightening around your shoulder, maybe he’ll leave a purple bruise on it.

“Of course not,” Sasha interrupts your thoughts, thumbing at your cheek affectionately, “she belongs here. With us.”

“She’s our little fairy,” Historia giggles dreamily, referencing the long-winded fairy tales you drunkenly make up every night, casting each other as heroines and knights and dragons.

“Right,” Eren agrees, not breaking your gaze, “our little fairy.”

The only thing that comes to mind is your childhood friend, Emma, looking on at you sadly with her muddy toes, watching the wings sprout from your back.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Days lug themselves by, barefooted and dragging their heels, and most of the time, even the monotonous rise and fall of the sun doesn’t help to differentiate one calendar block from the next. Like a bat, or maybe a slinky, silvery fish in an underwater cave, you rely on your other senses to track the passage of time.

For example, today, you know it’s a Wednesday because Maria, one of the three house chefs, brings fresh peaches up from the co-op down the hill every Wednesday. Sasha’s spent the last thirty minutes hand feeding you peach flesh as you lounge by the pool, insisting that you suck her fingers clean of juice and feeding you little sips of champagne each time you sober up enough to tell her that that’s lewd. Historia swats at you and giggles at the smacking and slurping sounds you make around Sasha’s fingers, oiled-up palm landing on oiled-up hip with a wet slap; Armin admonishes her quietly from his seat beside her, insisting the girlish noises emanating from the three of you are tearing him from his book. You can feel Eren watching, too– that’s all, though. Always just watching.

You wonder how opaque the lenses of Armin’s sunglasses are, perched haphazardly on your nose, wonder if they’re doing a good job of masking the slow lick of your gaze over Eren’s skin, wonder if you care. Maybe the champagne is finally getting to your head.

“We should go in soon,” Historia sighs, a hand tossed across her forehead. She’s a little movie star, built for the golden age. “It’s so hot.”

“It’s always this hot,” Sasha argues, and you can practically hear the furrow in her brow, not willing to take your eyes off of the trickle of sweat running down Eren’s chest to see it for yourself. You’re really getting the hang of it, this opposite-sense thing. Everything’s upside down here in the heat.

“She’s getting hungry,” Armin supplies, wiping the sweat off his palms to reach up and turn the page of his novel. Brideshead Revisited. A little on the nose, isn’t it?

“I am not!” Historia hates when people point out her appetite, but not really. She kicks up a fuss because it’s “ladylike”, and she’s advised you to do the same.

“You are,” you sigh, really feeling the heat sink into you even with the heavy, lazy movement of lolling your head to face her, “you always get hungry around this time.”

“What time is it, then?”

You don’t reply– you don’t know the answer.

“I think we’re all hungry,” Eren, ever the peacemaker when he can find the time to be so, sits up, letting the shirt that’s been shading his face fall into his lap. Your eyes track its descent– even that seems slow. He says something to you, managing a crooked grin while he squints in the heat of the sun, but you don’t hear it.

“Huh?”

“Everyone except you, anyway,” he repeats himself, reaching over Sasha and smearing his thumb through the peach juice collected on your chin. Eren’s thumb disappears between his pink lips, and when he sucks on it with a satisfied hum, your jaw clenches hard enough to hurt.

“I guess it’s getting close to dinner,” Sasha says regretfully, picking her wristwatch, a priceless Braus family heirloom, up from a puddle of orange juice and tanning oil. “We should probably clean off.”

“I might even shower twice,” Armin rubs a hand over his belly with a grimace, “this tanning oil makes my skin greasy.”

“I feel disgusting,” Historia agrees, sliding red toes into her sandals and standing with a dramatic stretch.

“Filthy,” Eren murmurs in agreement. He’s still staring at you.

“I’ll be in soon. I’m so close to the color I wanted for today– I just need, like, ten more minutes.” You peel down the strip of bathing suit stretched over your hip, showing off the distinct mark of yesterday’s color and today’s tan.

“You’re crazy,” Sasha scoffs, throwing some designer sarong her mother lent her over her shoulder, “I’m melting.”

Armin and Historia pause their bickering over who gets to wear Armin’s Cucinelli belt to dinner—Armin wants it for his trousers, Historia for her maxi dress—just long enough to offer a momentary goodbye, breezing along into the house with Sasha. You settle back into your chair and take a deep breath, letting the sun sink into you just long enough to forget that you’re not alone.

“Open up.”

You’ve been enjoying this game of trading one sense for another, and you keep your eyes shut firmly, letting your jaw fall open and your tongue hang out. A piece of peach, fleshy and dripping with juice, finds its way onto your tongue, pinched too roughly between strong fingers. When you close your lips around the fruit, the fingers stay with it, frozen in their pinched position and forcing you to suck the peach from them, to swallow around them, to run your tongue along them and get as much of the meat as you can. When the fingers withdraw from your lips, you open your eyes and gasp quietly.

Eren’s leaning over you, a solar eclipse that smells like tan skin and sounds like Campari, and in the silhouette of the sunlight, you think he’s smiling.

“You’re still hungry,” he says, a question that’s left its punctuation mark behind. You think of Historia, of the improper shame of revealing your appetite. You dodge.

“I’m never hungry.”

“Never?” Eren crawls over you to kneel between your legs, propping one of your ankles up on his shoulder. The game you started is ripped out of your hands, chess pieces flying into the pool, scattering across the table, knocking over bottles and matchbooks. It’s so silent out here in the sun it hurts, and you almost miss the constant buzzing horseflies of early summer.

“Never.”

“If you’ve never been hungry,” Eren muses, tilting his head so that his cheekbone fits into the sensitive arch of your foot, reaching a hand down to splay it wide on your belly, “you’ve never been full.”

“How do you figure?” Your words come out throaty, waterlogged.

“Can’t have one without the other.” Eren shrugs, turning his head to the side. His lips brush against your heel, your Achilles’, the swirly seashell dangling from your anklet. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, toes twitching behind his ear. “I don’t believe you, anyway.”

“No?” You try to tilt your head coyly, like your heart’s not clawing and scratching against your throat to get to him. Hungry, indeed.

“You wouldn’t stare like that if you didn’t want to.”

You’re taken aback, but not enough to fall out of the moment– Eren’s lips closing around the knob of your ankle slowly, like the pit of a fruit, make sure of that.

“Didn’t want to what?”

Eren’s hands meet the cushion on either side of your head hard enough to rattle the chair, his long, tanned body stretching over yours. He’s close enough to brush his nose against yours, but you can still see the hazy green of his eyes flicking here and there on your face: from your eyes to your lips to the beauty mark on your cheek. Your poolside lounge feels more like a butcher’s block under your taut spine.

Sasha’s told you about the wolves in these hills, that they howl murder at night, but they’re sleepy and indulgent in the heat of the sun. One of Eren’s canines catches the light and glints at you as he grins.

“Eat yourself sick.” He practically spits it into your mouth, one thigh pressed into where you’re sticky and sinful, and he chuckles under his breath when you shudder under him, feverish in the late-afternoon heat.

Before you can even think of biting back, Eren’s off of you, picking your sandals off of the ground and sliding them gently onto your feet, stopping to run his palm from your ankle to your kneecap with an appraising hum. 

“We should head inside,” he says evenly, offering a hand to pull you to your feet, “I’d hate for us to miss dinner.”

You don’t have anything to say back to him, letting him lace his fingers through yours like lines in a play, interspersing seamlessly with the summer scenery. Eren leads you through the kitchen, waits patiently for you to take your sandals off, and waves you on your way up the stairs, saying he needs a cigarette. As the distance between you grows, your mind grows clearer, and you turn on your heel, calling down to him from the top of the stairs.

“Eren? Eren? Where are you, Eren?”

“Call me something else,” Eren pokes his head around the corner, smoke pouring from the grin on his face, “whatever you want, really. Make your own name for me.”

“You stare at me, too,” you say, tearing through his impishness. Eren cocks his head, unperturbed, smile growing wide as he nods.

“I do.”

“So you’re…” You can’t bring yourself to say it, not where it might echo in the cavernous hallway, where it might take the form of a confession. You scamper down the stairs, nearly sliding on bare feet, almost crashing into Eren when he appears at the foot of the staircase, catching you with two broad palms on either side of your ribcage. You pluck the cigarette from his mouth, stick it between your own teeth, narrow your eyes accusingly, and whisper: “You’re hungry too.”

“For every man hath business and desire, Such it is.” Eren takes the cigarette back, pulling on it and making a clear show of trying to hide a smirk.

“Hamlet?”

“A woman with teeth and a brain,” Eren tilts his head at you, “aren’t you something?”

“Do you always quote Shakespeare when you want to fuck somebody?”

“Only when I want to fuck you.” Eren stubs the cigarette out on the ancient oak of the staircase railing, grins up at you brilliantly, smiles brighter when he notices how obviously flustered you are.

“I need to go take a shower,” you say hurriedly, choking on the remnants of your shame and your confidence as they burn out in your throat, making an attempt to back up the stairs away from him. Eren laughs at your attempted escape, catching you by the wrist and pulling you close to him, close enough to dizzy you on the tendrils of smoke still sticking to him. Your breath stills, your heart slows as Eren wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you together, skin on tacky skin.

“Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” Eren coos to you, mouth moving against your cheekbone. “C’mon, just one bite.”

“He that is proud eats up himself,” you hiss a quote back at him in response, ripping yourself from his grip and scrambling up the stairs, heart pounding and cheeks burning. You can hear a lovesick sigh follow you up to your room, and hope that the slam of the door behind you is enough to keep it from touching you.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The murky waters of your vision ripple out into clarity, and you’ve found yourself in a forest. You’ve been here before, you recognize the tall, thick trunks and the bed of fallen leaves under your feet. You’ve been coming here since you were a little girl, been wiggling your toes in the greenery since before you could remember. You never come alone.

It appears just as you remembered: a blinding glimmer of light, a flame for a head, and ribbonlike wisps of energy that beckon you like arms, like love. One step towards it, and it disappears, vanishing into nothing with an echo that might be laughter. You think it’s happy to see you.

When it reappears a few feet away, you take your first steps, sighing at the feeling of the wild enveloping you, of the prickling of your skin, kissed by the chill winding through the trees. You wish you could explore this place, so familiar and so strange all at once, but you know you have to keep moving, keep following the lights as they lead you deeper and deeper into the forest. They won’t hurt you; you aren’t sure why that’s true, aren’t sure why you keep moving. You just know better than to stop.

They lead you over a familiar path, winding past a creek, over a bed of flat stones with an ice-cold creek running over them. You never tire here, legs pumping and arms working to push yourself faster. You’ve never caught the lights, and you aren’t sure if you ever will, but again, you know better than to doubt. It feels like hours, feels like minutes, feels like purpose, chasing these lights through the forest, but suddenly, something’s new.

There’s a little chirping sound, almost conversational and too high-pitched for you to understand; you’re not even sure if you recognize the language. It ricochets around the bones in your body, touches something ancient in their marrow. You almost jerk your head to the right to find the source, but you resist, pushing ahead on your path as the lights lead you deeper. You get the feeling that you’ve gone off-script somewhere, that this is a part of the forest you haven’t seen before, but the warmth in your bones shoos your doubts away. You’ve never been this far, but it feels like home.

A growl curls around the shell of your ear, plants fear right in the center of your chest. Your eyes widen at the light before you before it disappears; you frown at the next one, not daring to speak but demanding an answer anyhow. The lights will save you, won’t they?

Shrieks from overhead, guttural, animalistic calls, howls and chatters of excitement; you never presumed to be alone in this forest, but you never presumed to be in danger, either. The lights urge you on, vanishing and regenerating at an alarming rate, your feet drumming against the forest floor faster and faster. A sliver of moonlight begins to glow from the trees a ways off, an indication that there’s a clearing ahead, and you shove the bile in your throat down, swing your arms faster, ignore the frantic fluttering of your pulse in time with the bestial chorus ringing clearer and louder from the trees with each passing second.

You do, against all odds, manage to launch yourself into the clearing, and the moment you feel the soft cushion of moss under your feet, as opposed to the branch-littered, crunchy path of the forest, you nearly stumble to your knees as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the clearing. The grumblings of the woodland entities have quieted, an almost awestruck silence settling in the open space around you.

“There you are.”

Your head snaps up comically fast– “You?”

“Me,” Eren says, that razor-sharp, moonlight smile lighting up his face. He looks…right here, as if the forest is extending a sense of belonging, as if he’s been here longer than the ancient trees themselves. Even the little crown nestled atop his head is fitting: a tangle of brambles and thorns and leaves tucked into his dark locks. Is that a throne under him, that mass of branches and leaves and some silvery metal you can’t place?

His eyes glow in the starlight, illuminated with a certain hunger that you can feel reverberating through your bones. It should be frightening, but it’s enticing. You feel welcome.

“What are you doing here?” Your tongue is slower on the uptake than your mind, and you can feel the suspicious expression folding your facial features, hiding the thrum of anticipation the sight of him brings.

Eren cocks his head pityingly, smiling at you in a way that would seem predatory if it wasn’t so entirely disarming, so entirely inviting. Your feet are bringing you closer before he even speaks— you know why you’re here before he says it.

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren beckons you onto his lap, firmly grabbing your shoulder and silently demanding you straddle him when you try to turn away from him, “you’re beautiful, so…alive here.”

He takes a bit of your hair between your fingers and rubs it, satisfaction flickering over his face. It’s then that you realize how little fabric covers you; really, it’s only a thin, wispy excuse of a dress, hanging in tatters around your body and leaving your skin free for the taking. Taking notice of your dress leads you to take notice of another pressing matter: Eren’s naked beneath you.

“Where are we?”

“Does it matter?” Eren reaches up to toy with your hair again, smiling gently. He tilts his head up, asking you for something you can’t identify, but that you already know you’re willing to give. Your soul, maybe.

Your lips meet his in a tentative brush, a motion that feels shy, but practiced. It’s a reflex, an instinct, to kiss him this way. Eren groans gutturally against your mouth, pressing into you deeper, digging his fingertips into your bare skin. The chorus of inhuman chatter erupts around you both again, and you jump, almost pushing away from him before he stops you with a firm hand against the small of your back.

“Sh,” he whispers, nipping at your chin, “don’t pay them any mind. You’re with me, remember?”

It’s difficult at first with the ever-growing hum of life around you, but it grows increasingly easier to melt into him, to lose yourself in the rhythm of him. He’s thick and hard underneath you, pressed right where you’re already slick and ready for him, and he’s got a tight grip on your hips, working you against him to make sure you feel it and oh– do you feel it.

A debauched gasp pours from your mouth to his; Eren sinks sharp teeth into your bottom lip with a grunt of approval, pulls you up to situate you over his twitching cock. You can feel the lecherous eyes of the woodland creatures, spirits, monsters, whatever they may be around you, looking in on the sticky, tangible arousal building between your bodies. The steady glow of Eren’s eyes, the prick of the thorns in his hair under your fingertips, the insistent weight of him pressing against the wet heat of you: all of it keeps you grounded, keeps your hips rolling into Eren like your life depends on it, like it’s what you were born to do.

“Are you ready?” Eren murmurs, quiet as the grave, stilling your hips and lifting you.

“I’m not sure, I–”

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren interrupts, “so long for you– you’re ready for me, I know you are.”

And with that, he’s sliding you down onto his cock, splitting you open, dropping your jaw. The cacophony from the forest grows deafening, but the glowing eyes in the brush streak and blur as your eyes flutter closed, a stuttered moan falling from your lips.

“Oh–”

“Knew you were ready,” Eren sinks his teeth into your collarbone, lets you wiggle and roll your hips until he’s situated comfortably inside of you. “You were born for this. For me.”

You can’t even bring yourself to disagree, to refute, to question. It’s godly, the way he fills you, the twinge of pain in the pit of your belly that doesn’t waver, no matter which way you squirm. The longer you sit, perched upon him– you feel something akin to divinity, akin to prophecy ringing through your bones. You were born for this.

“Eren…” It’s more of a sigh than anything, a confession and an admittance of guilt, a repentance. He likes the way it tastes, you can tell by the way his hands grip you harder, roll you along his cock faster with an urgency that betrays his calm, adoring gaze. He’s sinking his claws into you, bit by bit, and you’re better for it. You belong here, with the night on your skin and Eren nestled inside of you.

“Don’t ever leave,” Eren smiles gently, as if it’s a choice, “stay with me forever.”

The pleasure’s beginning to peak in your stomach, the howls swirling in the air around you start to feel more like a blanket, the moonlight like a crown. His hands are so hot they almost burn, his tongue licking up your neck feels like a baptism. Your back is arching, your blood is rushing, the stars are speaking to you– what are they saying?

Your fingernails have left angry indents in your throat where you’ve clutched into the skin in a desperate attempt to regain your breath, shooting up out of your slumber with a vicious jolt. Your head spins with the sudden movement, the antique furnishings of the room bleeding into candlelit blurs as you heave for breath.

“Sleeping?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the gravel of Eren’s voice, having believed yourself to be alone. Some instinctual part of your mind almost remembers falling asleep on the loveseat in the glass-enclosed sunroom earlier, one too many martinis to thank for that, but you can worry about that later– Eren’s your priority now, shirtless and leaned against the doorframe with one eyebrow raised and a very telling flush rising to his cheeks. The chilly wetness between your legs brings your dream to the forefront of your mind. Had he heard, somehow?

“What are you doing down here?” You do your best to narrow your eyes into something convincing enough to pass for annoyance, unsure if you’ve managed to pull it off with the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

“Water,” Eren says simply, raising a glass you hadn’t noticed he was holding, “but it seems like you might need it more than I do.”

“I don’t–” He ignores you, crossing the room to hand you the ornate glass. Your throat is dry, and so you drink, eyeing him suspiciously as you sip.

“Dreaming?” The corner of his mouth twitches almost imperceptibly.

“Nightmare.” You push yourself up to sit, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “How’d you know?”

A long pause, Eren’s eyes dragging over you slowly, your skin burning. “You were squirming.”

“It was disturbing,” you say truthfully, looking over your shoulder and half-expecting to see some horrible monster leering at you from the doorway, salivating over you and Eren, “but I’ve had this same dream since I was a kid. Part of it, anyway.”

“Need company?”

“No,” you say quickly, shaken by the dream and how low Eren’s pajama pants hang on his hips, “I just need to get to my real bed. I’m sure sleeping outside had something to do with it.”

“That’s not true.” Eren’s scooping you up into his arms before you can open your mouth to argue, as if you even would. This isn’t unusual for him; you’ve grown used to his tendency to touch you, to hold you close to his chest as though you belong there. It echoes in your head, you were born for this. A shudder wracks through your body. “Cold?”

“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your own voice. Eren nuzzles your head deeper into his shoulder, lets you get a noseful of the scent of him. Dewdrops, mankind, a rotting forest floor. It gives you a disconcerting sense of deja vu.

“Sleeping outside is good for you,” Eren goes on, scaling the stairs with impossible ease, “my mom used to tell me that.”

“Is that so?” It brings a sleepy little smile to your face, despite yourself: the image of a messy-haired, fussy baby Eren, curled up in his mother’s lap and looking up at the night sky.

“Sure.” You can hear the nostalgia in his voice. “The stars can talk to you that way, through your dreams. They show you where you’re supposed to go.”

Your blood runs cold at that– does he know? How could he? He’s a man, not a mind-reader, not a mystic. Right? You let him carry you to your door in silence, the only noise being the padding of his bare feet down the Turkish carpet runner in the hall. When he gets to your door, Eren finally starts to move to let you down, and your mouth moves without your permission, voice small and echoing in the still nighttime air.

“Eren?”

He freezes, muscles locking you in place against his chest. “Yeah?”

“Was I talking in my sleep?”

Eren settles you on your feet before answering, leaving one lingering hand on your hip and bringing the other up to brush at your cheek. Your eye must have been watering– his thumb catches a stray tear. His smile is a little too sharp when he answers.

“No, why?”

“Just wondering.” Relief courses through your body, but your muscles stay taut under his touch.

“Okay,” Eren looks you up and down one more time, as if he’s making sure you’re all there, “goodnight, then. I hope your dreams get better.”

When he turns to go, the broad silhouette of him growing darker as he retreats, you remember something fragile underneath the floorboards.

“Wait, Eren! You forgot your water.”

“My what?” When he turns to face you, he’s still grinning– baring his teeth, more like. You think you’re imagining the glow in his eyes, too fresh from that dream.

“Your water. I think I have a cup in my room if you need it.”

“Oh.” Eren waves a hand nonchalantly through the air, catching a stray stream of moonlight. You can see the dust particles dancing around his hand, enchanted by his movement. “Wasn’t thirsty."

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

It’s a slinky, dazzling dress; Elie Saab, Spring 2005, maybe? 2006? Sasha had lent it to you, insisted upon you taking it, really. It’s got to be worth at least your years’ rent payment, dripping with Swarovski and cut low and square across your chest, and easily the most decadent thing you’ve ever worn but– it’s family dinner night. No expense is spared.

Historia sits across from you, reaching one dainty hand out for Armin’s negroni, nearly dipping the massive drop-pearl charm on her bracelet into the first course: a cold, cucumber soup. Armin nudges her meaningfully, scowling and handing his glass to her, glancing apologetically at the stiff-backed butler across the room, who wasn’t looking anyway. Sasha’s at the head of the table, working on Historia’s serving of the cucumber soup, dunking focaccia bread into it in a voracious manner that you’re sure wasn’t outlined in the etiquette courses she’d endured as a child. And he’s next to you, naturally.

His dinner jacket looks out of place on him, oddly enough: angular and overly formal, as well-fitting as it is. You wish it was a little greener, a little more playful, something to match the Eren you’ve gotten to know under all the glitz and glamour. It’s too human for him, really, but that thought makes you shudder faster than you can shove it to the side.

“Wasn’t that the girl from Luxembourg?” Sasha asks through a giggle, finally leaning back to allow the butler to collect the remnants of her first course. Historia frowns at her, gulps back nearly half of Armin’s cocktail.

“No, the girl from Luxembourg was a slut. He wouldn’t have touched her.”

Armin and Eren exchange a look that implies that, whoever the slut from Luxembourg might have been, she didn’t escape their clutches unscathed. Historia notices the guilty smile dimpling Eren’s cheek and smacks Armin in retaliation.

“Ouch, Stori!” Armin scowls right back at her; if you didn’t know about Armin’s father’s remarriage to Historia’s mother, you’d think they were actually related.

“She was a slut,” Historia sniffs, finishing the rest of Armin’s cocktail in a second swig.

“It was Eren’s idea– you’re always punishing me for what he does.” When the staff place the second course, some sort of ceviche, in front of him, Armin crosses his arms over his chest and looks away like a huffy child. Sasha laughs and swats at his shoulder.

“Don’t pretend you don’t have your own hand in things. You can’t blame everything on Eren.”

“Maybe he can,” you shrug, the champagne going to your head. You’re feeling impish, feeling like one of them. Wildly, you reach a hand up to pinch at Eren’s cheek, smiling to yourself when you feel it turn warm under your fingers. “I mean, just look at him. He’s a devil.”

“Am not,” Eren scoffs, slapping a hand on your leg and shaking it playfully, “you weren’t there anyway. Min’s very convincing when he wants to be.”

“I am.” Armin smiles at you, head tilting intrepidly. “I can get Eren to share anything I want, I bet.”

It feels loaded, like a challenge, and Eren’s fingers tighten where he’s gripping your leg. When you chance a glance to the side at him, his jaw is tense, gaze focused on Armin like a threat, like a predator.

“Not anything,” Eren says, voice low and dangerous, more somber than you’ve ever heard him. Armin’s face falls for a millisecond, scrunching his nose at the murderous glint in Eren’s eyes, before he clenches his jaw and glances between the two of you with a haughty smirk.

“Est-ce vrai? En êtes-vous sûr? Tu l'as dit toi-même - je suis convaincant quand je veux quelque chose.”

“Ne commencez pas avec moi, pas pour ça.” It’s hardly louder than a murmur, but the threat carries all the same. You look to Sasha with widened eyes, hoping for a translation, but she’s chewing slowly on a bite of her ceviche, looking at Armin, Eren, then Armin again with a strange expression you’ve never seen before.

A heavy silence settles over the table, Eren’s fingertips leaving sore spots through your dress where they’re digging into your thigh, and Armin’s eyes dancing over Eren’s face, that same smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Daring.

“You two are so in love,” Historia gripes with a roll of her eyes, smashing the carefully-cubed ceviche on her plate into a mush. You eye the smear of meat on her fork disdainfully and set down the bite you had been about to pop in your mouth, opting for your glass of bubbles instead.

The jokingly grumpy lilt of Historia’s comment seems to cut the thread of tension that had grown taut between the two men, as Armin allows Sasha to pull him away from Eren and back into his corner of the table with her and Historia. Their conversation drones on, the ethics of Eren and Armin’s tendency to tag-team women fading into the background as you wait for Eren’s hand to slip from your thigh. It doesn’t.

His thumb rubs idly over the slit of your dress, brushing it back and forth over your bare skin for just long enough to get you used to the pressure of his palm beaming heat through the thin fabric, get your guard down. And then his fingers slip underneath, grabbing into the hot flesh of your thigh.

You jump ever so slightly, flighty as a fawn, and Eren chuckles under his breath beside you when you choke a bit on your champagne. He’s cool—stoic, even—as he bashfully bats away the scandalous insinuations of Sasha and Historia’s storytelling, the lewd raise of Armin’s eyebrows at the mention of a certain leggy redhead in Prague. His hand stays steady, possessive and permanent on your leg. When Armin and Historia start arguing over yet another of Armin’s alleged missteps with one of her college friends, Eren takes the opening to lean into you, murmuring into your ear.

“What’s got you so jumpy?” His breath puffs out hot and sensual against the shell of your ear, and you can feel your earring lifting with the movement of his lips. He’s so close.

“Not jumpy,” you answer under your breath, trying to keep your composure.

“Hm,” Eren hums, leaning back just enough to study your profile, “wasn’t sure if you’d dozed off, started dreaming again.”

Your head whips towards him in what is surely an uncouth accusation of insinuation, borne of shock, but luckily, Armin’s too busy being hand-fed ceviche by Sasha and scolded by Historia to notice. Other than his eyes, Eren’s stiller than death, watching over the antics with the littlest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. His eyes, though, flick down to you, glinting like a dare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means something?” It’s a challenge, and you realize too late that the rope around your ankle has cinched, and you’re caught in his trap.

“No,” you say, hoping for more conviction in your voice, but it comes out as a breathy whisper. The corner of Eren’s mouth twitches, and it pulls an irritated huff from you.

“Tell me about your dream. The one that woke you up the other night.”

“Tell you– w-what? Here?”

“Yes, here,” Eren repeats you, quiet and calm, keeping one eye on your bickering friends to ensure you’re kept all to himself, “unless it’s something you can’t share.”

The blanching of your face tells him everything he needs to know, and that sickening admission almost overshadows the fact that he knows. He undeniably knows, now; maybe not the specifics, but enough to know that you had woken up sticky and gasping after a sinful dream. Maybe he even knows it was about him. 

You’ve given up on trying to understand the otherworldly elements of Eren; the way he seems to appear at inopportune moments and know what you’re thinking at every turn, but this is too much. You quickly realize that while you’re not sober, you’re certainly not drunk enough to deal with him, and you finish your glass of champagne in a single gulp.

“You’re one to talk about sharing,” you hiss at him, trying to will away the goosebumps prickling your arms as his fingers inch higher, skating along soft skin. Eren’s demeanor falters, if only for a moment– he looks frustrated.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Eren leans into you, brows furrowing. “I don’t share just anything, and especially not just because ‘Min wants a taste.”

“Am I yours to share?” That heavy swig of champagne has gone straight to your head it seems, as you turn your face up to him defiantly, finally saying the quiet part out loud. The weight falls off your shoulders like a head, and you can almost feel the itch of the guillotine at your neck as the words leave your mouth. Eren, ever the gentle executioner, only lets the calm fascination return to his face, brings his fingers further up your thigh.

“Tell me about your dream, hm? They’re not listening, it’s just you and me.”

He’s only inches away from where you’re already beginning to grow hot and wet– he hasn’t even done anything, and you want to chastise yourself over the undeniable need beginning to bubble inside you. Eren’s smiling so sweetly, as if he’s lulling you into a sense of complacency, and your tongue hangs heavy in your mouth, eager to spill your secrets.

“I…I’m scared.”

Eren’s eyebrows raise and his smile grows a bit toothier, disbelief written plain on his face. “Of me?”

“Sometimes,” you say, small and honest as the grave, “it’s like you aren’t real.”

“I’m very real,” Eren insists, two fingers pressing against the damp silk of your panties, his eyes lighting up when you stifle a gasp, “doesn’t that feel real?”

“Wait–”

“The dream,” Eren says again, increasing the pressure of his fingers, “were you scared of me there, too?”

“Yes,” you whisper, ashamed and painfully cognizant of the feel of him between your legs, “I was in a forest, running after the little lights, they– I’ve seen them for a long time.”

“Since you were a child,” Eren repeats your confession from the other night. He’s reading you, you realize, not like a book, but like a poem. You couldn’t put the difference into words if you had to, but there’s a certain melody to the flickering of his gaze over your hot face.

“They’ve never led me anywhere before,” your words hitch in your throat, stopped dead when Eren’s fingers start rubbing circles over your swollen clit. The silk is thin and soaked, and his fingers slide over you in a way that feels god-given. Your jaw hangs ever-so-slightly, the butlers coming to change the course. You wait for Eren to slip his hand out from under your dress, fearful of the staff watching as he toys with you, but he only nods encouragingly.

“Keep going.”

“Um,” you stammer, swallowing thickly and glancing at the plate of bleeding, rare filet in front of you, “they took me to a clearing in the forest. There were creatures, ones I’ve never seen before.”

“Did they hurt you? Any of them?” A furrow appears between his eyebrows, deep and concerned. Some small part of your brain, muted since Eren’s hand slid beneath your dress, worries itself with why Eren seems so disquieted with your dream– it’s not like you actually could have been hurt, it was only a dream. Wasn’t it?

“No, they stayed away. They just made a lot of noise, but they all got quiet when…”

A knowing smirk. “When?”

“When I saw you.”

Eren pats your thighs gently, urging them apart; he looks relieved, exhilarated, unreal. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his eyes were glowing in the candlelight. Armin, Historia, and Sasha’s clamor across the table grows louder with each passing second, but as soon as you begin to wonder if you should be doing a better job of hiding what’s very clearly happening under the slit of your dress, Eren’s fingers have wiggled their way beneath the fabric of your silk thong. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, eyes widening.

“I was glad to see you,” Eren says quietly, “in the dream, I mean.”

“You said you’d been waiting for me,” you whisper, keeping your voice low to hide the whine scratching at the back of your throat, “that you’d been waiting a long time.”

“I bet I was,” Eren hums thoughtfully, grinning viciously when he sinks a finger into you, clearly relishing the way your fingernails tighten into his wrist. “I never lie.”

“Even in a dream?” You feel fuzzy and warm, blinking moony, worried eyes up at him. Eren shakes his head in confirmation, curling his finger and making your thighs clench. “You put me in your lap, and–and, you had a crown. It was nighttime, I think, and the moon was really bright. You were inside me.”

Eren slides another finger in to match the first, and you’re hardly able to stifle a moan when it comes fluttering through your teeth, a breeze of a sound compared to what you’re struggling to keep captive in your chest. Eren’s other hand reaches forward to grab a small piece of the carved steak, brings the meat up to your mouth and brushes it over your lips.

“Eat,” Eren instructs, smiling placidly as you mindlessly obey, biting into the red meat, “but keep telling me.”

He waits patiently for you to chew around the bite of steak he’s offered you, eyes searching you for something– what it is, you can’t be sure. Your mind is wobbling around the flashes of memory of your dream, distracted every few steps by an overwhelming rush of pleasure from between your legs, Eren’s fingers curling incessantly against your walls. You swallow, never taking your eyes off of him.

“You fucked me.” The confession is breathless when it leaves you, and even through the haze of what you pray isn’t a rapidly-approaching orgasm, you don’t miss the way Eren’s shoulders stiffen, the way his eyes flash. 

“Did I fuck you, or did you fuck me?” Eren murmurs back to you, mischief in his eyes and a tense gravel to his voice. “You said you were in my lap, after all.”

“I—oh, god—I don’t know,” you’re barely able to keep your voice low, a little whimper interrupting you, “Eren–”

“Keep going, it’s okay,” Eren’s fingers don’t slow– in fact, they begin to move more harshly, “you’re safe with me, you know that. I showed you in the forest, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.” You can’t stop your forehead from falling onto his shoulder, teeth digging into your lip so hard you aren’t sure if that coppery taste is from the steak, or your own blood. The conversation in the room, despite being made by only three people, feels like a deafening rush in your ears. 

The realization hits home that Eren’s going to make you cum all over his fingers in front of your friends, the staff, and your dinner, and he’s going to wrench it out of you in a matter of seconds, if the tightening of your gut is anything to go by.

“What else?” Eren practically growls in your ear, low and hoarse. “Is there anything else?”

“You asked me– fuck, you asked me something.” Your hips are canting forward into his palm, your face tacky and warm thinking about the couture fabric under you, now drenched in your cum and sweat. “Eren, you have to slow down, please–”

He’s merciless, pumping his fingers into you ceaselessly, rendering you a lost cause. “What did I ask you?”

“You asked—oh, my god—asked if I, if I would stay with you forever.”

“What was your answer?”

You can’t respond, not with the way you’ve stopped breathing to swallow down the debauched moan bubbling in your chest. Your entire body tenses, strung tight as a bow around Eren’s fingers as the knot in your stomach unravels, cool, inevitable release finally crashing over you. Eren works you through it, murmuring little hushes into your hairline, and placing a comforting hand over your fingers that are digging into his wrist, smiling against your forehead as you slide your hips back and forth over his hand.

You manage to pull the whole thing off impressively subdued, no more than a tinny whimper leaving your lips, only to be absorbed by the sleeve of Eren’s dinner jacket. When you dare to sit up, to meet Eren’s eyes, he’s still looking at you expectantly, as if that wasn’t enough.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” you whisper, waiting for Historia to chastise you, or Armin to make a lewd comment. The three of them are still arguing, Sasha stealing bites from Armin’s plate each time he turns to snap at Historia, who’s now sitting amongst a crowd of empty crystal glasses.

“What was your answer?” Eren says again, pulling his fingers from you and smirking at the glisten that stretches down into his palm.

“I woke up,” you say with shaky conviction, trying to glare at him.

“Are you still scared of me?” Eren asks innocently, picking up a piece of his steak with his hand and feeding it to you again. Your cum mixes in with the flavor of the steak, gives it a certain tang and salinity that makes your heart beat faster, even though you’ve just floated back down to consciousness.

“I– I don’t think so, but…” you trail off, looking down at the plate. Eren brings another piece to your lips, letting you bite half and giving the rest to himself, not missing the opportunity to suck on the tips of his fingers. Your thighs press together when his eyes flutter shut, knowing what he’s tasting and watching him revel in it.

“But what?”

“I don’t think I understand you,” you confess breathlessly, “I think that’s what scares me. I spend all day looking at you, and I never feel closer to understanding you, to really touching you. It’s like you’re not…” you trail off in search of the right word.

“Real?” Eren cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Human,” you say without entirely meaning to, widening your eyes at him in apology. “I’m sorry, not in a bad way necessarily, but– you feel…like you’re above me. In a sense.”

“Above you?” Eren frowns, forgetting his dinner entirely and looking straight at you with rejection written all over his face, wrinkles you want to smoothe over with your thumb.

“I just…” you sigh, finding it harder to meet his gaze by the second, “I don’t understand what you want with me.”

“Still?” Eren tilts his head. “Even after that?”

“The dream?” You nearly chuckle in exasperation. “It was just a dream, that’s all.”

Eren frowns a little, reaches for your glass of champagne– oh, god, when had that been refilled?– and hands it to you. He watches you take one sip, and then another, that concentrated pull of his eyebrows never ceasing until you reach a shaky hand out for your fork, beginning to feed yourself small bites of steak. His perplexed expression ripples out into one of contentedness, smiling gently as he watches you take care of yourself.

“All days are nights to see till I see thee, and nights bright days when dreams do show me thee,” Eren finally says, looking at you very much like you’re supposed to be parsing something out from his quote.

“On to the sonnets now, are we?” You cock a playful eyebrow at him, despite your tired, slouching posture and your repeated attempts to keep your guard up. Eren grins mischievously, leaning in as if he means to press the tip of his nose to yours.

“I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say–”

“If it be love indeed, tell me how much?” You’re quicker than him on this one, a vicious little smirk cutting across your face when you manage to cut him off. Eren’s eyebrows raise, impressed, but you don’t keep him down for long.

“There’s beggary in love that can be reckoned,” Eren finally says, twirling the ring on your pinky absentmindedly. You don’t even remember when he laid his hand atop yours, but it feels heavy and comforting, and so you let it lie there, just for the time being.

Your post-orgasm exhaustion hits you like a train, the temptation to slump against Eren’s shoulder winning out over your propriety. You’ll sit back up by the fourth course, you tell yourself, nibbling on a large piece of parsley that had come as a garnish on your plate. Eren doesn’t seem to mind the weight of your fuzzy head nodded into the cotton of his shoulder; in fact, he seems to adjust himself so you can nuzzle closer, eyes blinking owlishly as you reach for your glass of bubbles. You’re teetering dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness, and you almost wouldn’t care, until something catches your eye.

Over the rim of your glass, Historia is staring at you. It’s not a look of admonishment, but more…caution? Concern? Pity? All you can discern for certain is that Historia must have seen everything Eren did to you, everything he’s still doing to you, taking a caviar bump off the back of his hand and laughing at Armin, shoulder shaking under your cheek. Historia’s brows furrow at you, her bottom lip wavering slightly.

You sit up suddenly, ignoring the way the room spins with the speed of your action. Eren turns his head to you, surprised, only to follow your gaze across the table to Historia. You’re trying to keep from looking at him, but you can’t help yourself, watching his expression crumple into something stern and disparaging.

Historia withers for only a moment, before narrowing her eyes at him threateningly. Eren squeezes his hand around yours. Sasha shoves Historia admonishingly for not listening to her joke. Armin’s eyes focus in on where your fingers grip your champagne flute hard enough to turn white.

You think you see a few pairs of familiar, glowing eyes in the bushes outside, peering in on the scene at the table. You think you need to go to bed.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger fanfiction #aot #aot fanfic #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x you #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #that's all for now folks!!!! #more to come in part 2<3

[fqiryspit]

EREN + FOUR EYES GF <3

eren x glasses!fem!reader

cw: sucking dick, pussy eating, titties being called little, glasses being seen as smth innocent.

.

eren can't explain it...he just loves your fucking glasses so much.

ok, first of all, he thinks you look adorable in them. and when they knock up and down against your face that's how he knows he's fucking you right.

don't get him started on how you suck his dick. your frames sliding down as you choke on his cock? poor baby :(

-and when you clean them off because he couldn't help but cum all over them.

he is a titty man. he needs titty pics sometimes just to get through the day. so, you sending him a pic with ur little perky titties and your glasses making you look so...innocent? it kills him every time.

wait...are you cleaning ur glasses? how about eren eats you out on the counter rn as your blind ass can barely see him.

fuck he loves eating your pussy. lapping at that little wet clit is all he needs in his life.

ps. he pouts when you have a contact day.

.

an: this was sooo short but i really wanted to do smth cuz I'm aching for him but I'm so busy rn I can't even do anything. EVERYTHING is shortened because i have acrylics on rn and even though they're short they're fucking killing me

#eren jeager #eren yeager smut #eren yeager oneshot #eren yeager imagines #eren yeager fic #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger imagines #eren jaeger fanfiction

[nininikki]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 | eren jaeger x black fem!reader

I. delightful little laughs and golf excursions

✧ summary! — upon meeting one another, you and governor eren jaeger struggle to deal with the onslaught of mutual attraction that inevitably follows.

✧ warnings! — mentions and consumptions of alcohol, adultery (eren is an aspiring cheater), golfing (🏌🏽), an arranged-ish marriage, age gap—reader is 29 and eren is 40, smut—handjob, heavy petting, making out.

✧ author’s note! — this part is the first of what is hopefully many. updates will be sporadic but hopefully still very entertaining. & i already know what you’re thinking, eren can’t be potus bc he’s german blah blah yeah well eren can’t do much of anything bc he died so let’s just be delulu together. lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

✧ word count! — 4.7k

14 MAY, SIX MONTHS AFTER THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

the wings of a baby red bird whispered clumsily through the brisk noon air. without thinking, almost reflexively, you blew the bird a bout of kisses. good luck, you’d thought to yourself, hoping to quell the sick feeling curling in your stomach. though, it was only lunch with mikasa, so how much luck would you need?

a secret service agent escorted you to your table, where mikasa was already sitting. her lips, stained with crimson, stretched into a smile so wide her face could’ve cramped. “(y/n), i’m so glad you could make it!”

mikasa stood and enveloped you in a hug, the flowery scent of her perfume nearly making you vomit where you stood. “oh, don’t even mention it. the pleasure was mine.” pulling away from her embrace, you smiled to ebb the sick feeling. “besides, it’s been forever since we had lunch. y’know, with the election and all.”

“well, yes, being the first lady is quite the job.” mikasa…almost giggled. a childish, giddy, schoolgirl giggle that felt out of place coming from her thirty-nine year old mouth. that coupled with the way the diamonds in her glimmering wedding band caught the sunlight and nearly blinded you when she pushed a short lock of hair away from her face. if only she knew how greatly she tormented you without even knowing it.

swallowing the saliva that had pooled at the sides of your tongue, you smile again. “i can only imagine.” and god, if you hadn’t spent a considerable amount of time doing just that.

the moment you both slid back into your seats, a waiter made his way across the lawn and next to your table, a bottle of wine in his hands and ready to be poured into your respective glasses.

“no wine for me, actually.” mikasa said to the waiter, despite keeping her gaze trained on you the entire time. “a sparkling water will do.”

and when he turned to you, “i’ll have what she’s having—the sparkling water. and can you add a lemon slice?”

“of course, ma’am. it’ll be right out.”

“not drinking, huh? that’s…new. i like it.” mikasa joked just as soon as the waiter was out of earshot.

you let the words fall gracefully, naturally off your tongue. not rehearsed or practiced at all. “don’t get your hopes up. i’m trying out the whole method acting thing. fuckin’ sucks, i tell you.”

the waiter was back, setting two glasses of sparkling water on the table. “well, if anyone can do it, it’s you.” you both raised your glasses in a silent toast before taking the first few sips.

it definitely quelled the nausea you were feeling, so you drank and drank and drank until you looked down at the cup and saw there was only ice and dripping condensation left to show for it. “sorry. i haven’t eaten, i guess.” you explained, humiliatingly breathless.

“trust me, i know the feeling. can you get her a refill?” mikasa requested, and the waiter quickly obeyed, taking your glass and heading off again.

for a moment, there was only the sound of leaves whistling through the wind, an occasional singsong of birds, and the fizzing of mikasa’s drink across from you. until she cleared her throat, a loud ahem slicing through the false sense of tranquility you’d trapped yourself in.

“let’s not beat around the bush, (y/n). you know and i know that i didn’t just invite you here for nothing. so let me just be straight with you.” it was all happening too quickly for you. all the words coming from her mouth, all the feelings you were supposed to be feeling—all delayed to make way for numbness more painful than anything. because you knew what she was about to say. it was just a matter of whether or not you could control what would happen after she did. “i know you’re fucking my husband, and i want you to stop.”

***

7 JULY, FOUR MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

look a man straight in the eye when you shake his hand. your mother had always told you that, but you’d never understood the importance of it. up until now.

until you were shaking hands with the governor of california and trying not to crumble under the intensity of his gaze. a gaze so fervent and piercing it was en route to perforating whatever it was that shielded your soul.

“lovely to meet you.” his voice was syrup. soft and smooth and saccharine and dripping into your ears with every word he spoke. “you’re even more beautiful in person.”

so are you, you wanted to say. and it was true. he’d been at the forefront of every news channel and magazine for the past year or so. and up there, he was all pretty eyes and luscious hair and ivy league-educated words. up close…up close, he was different.

as your gaze slid down the thick, almost shiny locks of his hair, you felt your hand—the one currently in the snug grasp of his shake—twitch with the urge to reach out and touch it. to slide the pad of your thumb down a strand, or perhaps thread all of your fingers through the dark mass of waves and revel in that sensation alone.

could he feel the pulse in your wrist begin to pick up speed when you let your eyes roll over the prominent bridge of his nose? or the full, pillowy curves of his lips? of course, you couldn’t stare there for too long. or you’d run the risk of wanting to kiss him, and god only knows what that could lead to.

and did he notice the skin of your palms become sticky with sweat when you finally let yourself look into his eyes? they were a haze of blue-green darkness. hypnotic, oceanic irises growing thinner and thinner as they stretched around the steadily dilating expanse of inky black that were his pupils, making for a sight that—for lack of a better phrase, and because you could actually feel your airways being blocked with unadulterated awe—took your breath away.

if anyone was more beautiful in person, it couldn’t not be him. however, you’d bitten your tongue, settling for, “you’re too sweet, mr. governor.” your voice, a soft peal of laughter that you assured only indicated the utmost professionalism.

“un-unh.” he released your hand from his grip, and you weren’t prepared for the onslaught of goose flesh spreading over your arms when his palms settled over the skin there. “it’s eren. call me eren.” you sure as hell weren’t prepared for him to embrace you in a friendly hug and kiss on the cheek.

you laughed a delightful little laugh. one that surely couldn’t be conveyed as anything but amiable. “only if you call me (y/n).”

“well, (y/n), my wife and i are big fans of your work.”

at the mention of your friend, you took your guilty eyes off him, and let yourself be flung back into reality. back to the party you were currently attending, with its nearly blinding beams of camera flash, sweet drips of champagne spilling past your lips, and wispy tendrils of smoke curling through the air.

the party where you’d originally come to just look pretty and stuff your face with hors d'œuvres, but were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder and a face all too familiar and smiling to be any perfect stranger.

mikasa ackerman—the laidback teacher’s assistant you’d sparked a friendship with your entire senior year at harvard. the girl you considered a very close friend and mentor from the week you met up until the day you graduated, soon after which the two of you lost all contact. but you hadn’t sweated it. you were too busy pursuing your acting career, she was too busy becoming a lawyer. and the governor’s wife, apparently.

“god, i haven’t seen you in ages.” her cheeks were tinted in a cheery blush, mouth turned up in a lopsided grin, an empty champagne flute balanced clumsily between her fingers. “well, not in person at least.” her wide, megawatt smile was the last thing you saw before she hugged you as if you had never stopped being friends. “but you’re in all those big movies, y’know. it’s like every time i turn on the TV, there you are.”

you blinked bashfully down at your feet, a gentle smile playing at your lips. “don’t make me blush.”

“oh, nonsense.” she rocked back and forth on her feet, running her fingers through her dark pixie cut. “y’know, my husband never believes me when i say we used to know each other.”

“when’d you get married?” your mouth picked up in a delighted smile, recalling distant, collegiate memories of mikasa wanting, ‘partnership and a powerful husband, in that order.’

she stood on her tiptoes, beckoning someone over with a fervent wave of her arm. “uh, close to four years ago, maybe. don’t quote me, though. i’ve had one or two.” what you weren’t expecting was for the governor of california to stroll over, a little tipsy and equally disoriented from the crowd he’d just emerged from, his gaze alight with something you couldn’t quite place when it landed on the two of you. mikasa interlocked your arms, her voice an ecstatic slur. “see, baby! i told you i knew her!”

***

you’d stumbled into your home that night with remnants of the party still stuck to your skin and an invite to lunch at the jaeger’s country club the following week.

***

14 JULY

“i always knew you were bad at sports, but golf? really?” mikasa chimed, her lips pulled apart in uncontrollable laughter as your golf ball swerved clumsily around the course.

when eren’s husky laugh floated into your ears, you could feel them toasting with embarrassment and shame. because your eyes had taken to feasting themselves upon him at the most inappropriate times.

because just as you were about to swing your club, there your eyes were, trailing over his towering figure. his hair, usually parted and coiffed to perfection, sat a little messier today, perfectly curtaining the gently chiseled edges of his face. his bottom lip, plush and pink, confined between busy teeth, making for a sight that sent a blush down your neck.

all that went without mentioning the sleeves of his oxford tee—rolled neatly up at the elbows and showcasing the perfect definition of his forearm as he leaned over on the handle of his golf club.

you swiped your tongue across your bottom lip in misplaced concentration. the expensive watch glinting around his wrist sending your lips up in a tiny smirk. because he was just your type. so handsome and so kind and so…

a tangible rope of guilt strung itself around your neck as your eyes traced over the gold wedding band on his finger. a symbol of perpetual love and unity that you were practically defacing as you continued to drool over him in the presence of his wife.

so, when it was time for you to swing your club, you’d spooled yourself in a web of distraction and ended up missing horribly.

“must be the wind.” you said, hoping that the bursts of laughter that followed would be enough to distract you from the guilt.

***

“here, let me help you.” eren offered, purely out of the kindness of his heart. not because of the way you stood there, the golf club perched sweetly in your grip with not a clue in the world how to use it. not because of how pretty you looked today—the delightful hem of your opaque-shaded skirt coming to a halt in the middle of your thighs and contrasting perfectly with the smooth darkness of your black top.

not because of the smile stretching across your face—so beautiful, pearly, and white that it nearly took one of his eyes out. not because of his budding attraction that had sprouted the moment you caught his notice on a silver screen and had only gotten worse when he’d laid eyes on you in the flesh. and certainly not because mikasa, his wife, for god’s sake, had stepped back inside for one reason or another—to powder her nose or something—and inadvertently granted him a moment alone with you for the very first time.

“listen, mr. governor—”

“—eren.”

“eren. listen. i may not golf every weekend like you weirdos,” you joked, and he couldn’t help the grin gracing his face. “but i know my way around a club, alright.”

“yeah, sure looked like it.”

you went silent for a moment, tongue clicking around in your mouth while your gaze wandered elsewhere. “fine.” you sighed out, faux exaggerating an eye roll and pout. “show me the reins, or whatever.”

***

that was how you had gotten here. the callused palms of governor eren jaeger pressed up against the backs of your hands under the guise of helping you swing a golf club. except there was no guise, and the feeling of having his hands on yours again had your mind nestled in delusion.

“okay, now, hit it.” he said, the words lowered an octave and trickling with honey as he uttered them into your ear. “aht, aht. remember,” his grip grew a bit tighter on your hands just as you were about to swing. “softly, just like i said. don’t think you’re advanced enough to do it any other way.” a teasing lilt colored his tone.

“i think you’re just holding me back, governor.” at that, you stole your eyes away from the union of your hands and blinked them shyly in his direction.

“eren, please.” if he was saying please, his eyes certainly didn’t convey it. “or i’ll have to start calling you esteemed actress, (y/n) (l/n).”

“you think i’m esteemed? don’t flatter me.”

“you don’t wanna know what i think about you.”

delighted heaps of air passed through your nose and mouth a couple times before you realized you were giggling. giggling like a blushing virgin on her first date over a few simple words. what was he doing to you?

your teeth dug deep into your bottom lip. “are you implying something, eren?”

eren neglected to answer, only staring at you whilst smoothing the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand. “now, on my count, you’re gonna putt it, alright.”

“mhm,” you hummed, forcing yourself to look back down at the ball.

“one, two,” you kept your eye strained on the ball. despite the heady scent of his cologne burning through your nostrils more prominently than ever. despite the very foreign, yet also very very welcome, feeling of his hands on you. “three.”

on his count, you putted the ball just as he’d instructed. was it an exaggeration to say you could feel your pupils dilating? reducing your irises to mere rings of color as they followed the movements of the ball?

it rolled into its intended hole with a satisfactory thunk, and you could feel eren shoot you an i told you so gaze so prominent it felt as though it had grown legs and crawled over your back.

you pursed your lacquered lips. “i could’ve done that in my sleep. just distracted, that’s all.”

as the words left your mouth, you became acutely aware of the distance—or lack thereof—between you and this very married man. sucking a sobering breath through your nose, you detangled your hands from his with as little awkwardness to spare as possible.

***

“what the hell are you doing in my house?”

peeling your boots off, you padded into the conversation pit where your manager was sitting. chowing down at a subway sandwich with hardly enough time to breathe between bites.

“i’m your manager.” they said, voice muffled with bread and meat and sauce. “what kinda manager would i be if i didn’t make arbitrary visits?”

“the kind that respects my privacy.” you made a seat for yourself beside them, examining the bag to see what they’d gotten you. “and besides, these visits are never arbitrary. you’ve always got a reason.” meaty, cheesy delight filled your nostrils as you pulled your sandwich from the bag. they had delivered your favorite, and that was enough to hear them out. even if… “usually a bad one.”

“i guess i do.” hange sighed, shaking the ice around in their cup of mountain dew. “so, i’m assuming you know why i’m here.”

chewing like a woman starved, you shook your head. “i’ve got no idea. been on my best behavior.”

“oh, really? well, allow me.” hange gingerly wiped their fingers of sandwich remnants and pulled something from their nearby briefcase.

a magazine. one that had your face on it, which wasn’t anything foreign. although for whatever reason your face was on it must’ve been what had hange in this frenzy.

the headline read, HOLLYWOOD HARLOT MOVES ON TO POLITICIANS accompanied by a photo snapped of you and eren meeting for the first time. locked in what page six would probably call, a steamy gaze. although, what other way was there to describe it? if you hadn’t known any better, you looked like a pair of star crossed lovers separated by war. or something.

“eren jaeger? him? him?” hange’s face was more angry than disappointed, which was good enough in its own right. “out of all the politicians, you sleep with the married one who’s running for president?”

you steadfastly defended, “i didn’t sleep with anybody.” although what you actually did wasn’t much better.

“look at this, (y/n)!” hange jabbed a finger at the image before pushing deep breaths through their nose. “he’s looking at you like he’s never seen a woman before.”

you denied, taking a sip of their mountain dew. “he was starstruck, hange.”

“that’s not what they think.” per usual, hange didn't waste a breath dismissing you. “they think you’ve moved on from sleeping with movie producers to politicians. which is really, really bad.”

“yeah, i’m aware, but still. it’s not true.”

“these people don’t know this. don’t care, either.” hange threw the magazine hazardlessly over your coffee table, pushing their glasses over their hairline. a usual indication of their utmost seriousness. “look, with a little threatening—”

“—threatening?”

“yeah. slander, defamation, whatever charges i could think of. not the point. i got them to scrap the story.”

your head fell atop their shoulder in unimaginable relief, arms releasing tension you didn’t even know was there. “thank—”

“—but, i don’t always know how well that’ll work, so please.”

“please?”

hange took your hands in a vice grip, probably hoping to squeeze some sense into them. “stop making politicians fall in love with you.”

***

21 JULY

did you have him under a spell? there was no way to exactly prove that. but eren exhibited all the signs of a man charmed. yes, charmed. there wasn’t a more perfect way to put it than that. you had charmed him. with your dazzling laugh and your perfect hair and all those funny things you said that made him completely forgo the fact he was running for the highest office in the land.

every day following your little golf excursion, you had made dutiful work at setting up shop in the confines of his head. occupying his every passing thought with the sound of your laugh, embedding his psyche with the memory of your hands in his, rendering him completely oblivious to the wedding band on his finger with just a twinkle of your eye.

no, that last part was on him and him alone.

now, he’d be the first to admit that his marriage to mikasa was a strange one. her parents knew his, and when he met her, he could already kind of tell he was going to marry her. and not in the phony, sappy, hallmark greeting card way, no.

but in the way that meant he was thirty-three, still unmarried, and could see this as his parents’ way of throwing a bride at him. the idea wasn’t all that unappealing. mikasa was beautiful, smart, and quick-witted, and eren could see himself falling in love with her. hell, parts of him had. the little naive ones, but still.

but the little spark was gone. y’know the one that ignited in his belly whenever she kissed him on the cheek? or took his hand in hers? or whispered sweet nothings in his ear? it was gone. he guessed that was a side effect of marrying someone you didn’t really like all that much.

they eventually managed to become two people that lived together and occasionally had sex. some of which was pretty good, all of it in an attempt to get mikasa pregnant at some point later in the year. only five presidents had been childless throughout their term, and eren was unlikely to be the sixth. but he couldn’t speak too soon. his approval ratings told a different story.

still, regardless of whether he loved mikasa or not, eren had a respectable amount of resolve. he wouldn’t step out on his wife because a twenty-something-year old looked at him with eyes that were bespeckled with midas’ touch. no matter how beautiful or funny she was.

so, why was he standing here? here being the middle of his bedroom, staring into his eighty inch TV screen as if it contained the cure for cancer or something.

“do you like it when i touch you here?”

oh. that was why. he’d mindlessly turned on the television as he toweled himself off, not even noticing one of your films had been playing until his ears caught the familiar tone of your laugh. given the recent state of his mind, (and how frequently you occupied it) even a simple laugh was enough to have his neck snapping in the direction of the screen. but it wasn’t any simple laugh.

it was nearly identical to the way you’d laughed during your golfing stint the other way. identical in its coquettish cadence. identical in the way it spilled easily out of your lips.

“mmm, yeah.”

except you weren’t playing golf with the man on screen. you were letting him slide his palm up the expanse of your inner thigh until the skirt of your dress began to crumple and bunch around your upper legs.

you were spreading your legs around the movements of his hand and parting your lips so he could slip his tongue into your mouth. you were pulling him forward by the meat of his biceps, and at the same time, he was taking you into his lap and sliding the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

the camera then cut to a single shot of your face, crumpled with unbridled, purely pornographic pleasure. it wasn’t long before eren found himself enraptured with the sight: your lacquered lips parted to make way for an outpouring of contented sighs. the translucent and nearly invisible pearl of sweat beading at your hairline. the unfocused picture of your hands carding through your companion’s hair.

one could nearly call it a vision.

nearly.

because the next scene was of you again. face sated with contentedness as you stumbled through the throes of slumber, some sort of dream premiering beneath the lids of your eyes.

that was the real vision. a fact eren and his slowly hardening cock could get attested to.

then, mikasa was walking into the room. she glanced at the TV. “isn’t she amazing in this?” she asked, a happy tone accompanying her smile.

“i haven’t really seen it.” eren admitted. he actually had seen a number of your films (three to be exact), but you did have quite a few of them. that wasn’t even including the new one set to premiere in just a couple of weeks. at that thought, eren considered the possibility of calling and congratulating you. an option that was as outlandish as it was stupid.

call you. so he could do…what, exactly? make a fool of himself just for the sake of hearing your voice? though, he wouldn’t consider himself too above that. he had unabashedly flirted with you with his wife less than a mile away. not to mention the erection dimpling the meat of his inner thigh.

and what was more? he was running for president! he wasn’t in his twenties anymore. the days of newborn love and hopeful courting were long behind him and if he planned on being elected, surely it should stay that way.

mikasa slid into bed, her lithe body sheathed in the creamy silk of a nightgown and stretching under the cover of the sheets. “well, you should. it’s some of her best work.”

you’re telling me.

***

eren had ventured back into the bathroom to change into his pajamas. as well as rinse the horniness from his system via splashes of brisk water, an attempt so futile he couldn’t help but scoff at himself.

“we should call her.” mikasa suggested upon eren’s return to their bedroom. “y’know, congratulate her on the movie. maybe have her over for dinner after the primary.”

but eren could tell by the spectacles sitting gingerly over mikasa’s nose and the tell-tale scrawling of her pen in her planner that it was no longer a suggestion. the plan had seeded itself within her mind, and therefore bloomed to fruition in reality. “i’ll have floch set it up, yeah?”

“‘m all for it, honey.” eren murmured, stamping her temple with a kiss as he slid into bed next to her.

***

it was only a few moments later when mikasa set aside her planner and glasses.

“i know how stressful it’s been.” the cold and soft palms of her hands found themselves on eren’s neck, scaling down the planes of his clothed chest and just whispering at the hem of his pants. “with the election and all.”

eren slid a tentative hand around her wrist, head shrouded in rapidly blooming feelings of guilt. “mikasa, what’re you doin’?”

“just wanna help.” she breached past the soft flannel, fingers threading through the soft mount of curls at his base. “will you let me do that, honey?”

mikasa’s fingertips kissed the skin of his inner thigh, and the strangled moan that bubbled from eren’s throat seemed to be affirmative enough for her.

she wrapped her digits around him, breathing out, “see, you’re already so hard. just let me…” a delighted exhale tunneled through her nostrils, eyes brimming with contented triumph as she dealt him that first stroke. “let me make you feel good.”

it had only been a short while when eren let his eyes flutter to a close, and an even shorter while when you began to blanket every thought in his head. he really had no business thinking of you. in fact, that was probably the last thing he needed to do. but god, how he wanted you.

how he wanted you here, sitting above him and handling him just the way he needed. he distantly recalled the way your hands looked the other day—soft and small and barren of any jewelry. how they felt in his hands and how they’d feel around his dick. a hiss whistled through his teeth and the grip he had on mikasa’s hand spasmed.

“tell me how good it feels.” mikasa cooed, taking her other hand and swiftly maneuvering that same grip over to her breast. and eren wasted no time letting the doughy flesh spill between his fingers, feeling her nipple harden beneath the pad of his thumb as hazily kneaded it.

eren just had to screw his eyes a little shut tighter, and it was you. laying above him, holding him in your hands, whispering all those sweet nothings in his ear as you brought him closer and closer to his peak.

and, oh, was he close. so close that all he had to do was think of the way your mouth formed around your laugh, or how good it felt to touch your hands, or the way your lips formed around the words, “mr. governor.”

sparks bursted behind his eyes as he came. shaky breaths wracking his chest and uncharacteristic noises flying from his lips as he rode out his high. all while holding back the urge to call out your name.

while still trying to feasibly pump breaths through his lungs, mikasa took him in a messy kiss. so messy that it would’ve bordered on lazy if she hadn’t mounted herself atop his dampened lap almost immediately after.

“c’mon, honey.” an ecstatic grin broke across her face as she pulled her tank top over her head. “i think tonight may be the night.”

© NININIKKI. do not translate, copy, or modify my works in any way shape or form.

#nikki writes ✶ #attack on titan #aot #aot fanfiction #snk #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin eren #shingeki no kyoujin smut #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin #eren jeager fanart #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x black reader

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

boyfriend eren jaeger headcanons

- always having an arm around your shoulder to guide you (also to let everyone know you’re together)

- LOVES when you sit on his lap

- babe is definitely his favorite nickname for you

- constantly watching you if you leave his side, his eyes follow you across the room even if he’s mid conversation

- is fascinated by your skin care and eventually falls into your routine

- loves doing face masks but especially the kind the charcoal peel kind that you paint on

- tries to learn how to braid your hair (he’s not very good!!)

- often shirtless because he wants you to ogle him

- his favorite breakfast to make you is pancakes & bacon because it’s the only breakfast food he’s learned to make yet

- will get you a little girly drink on the way over to your place (“it’s pink you like that right?”)

- has one hand gripping your thigh while driving

- ‘accidentally’ leaves hickies all. the. time.

- makes matching bracelets with you

- and most importantly, he tells any girl who talks to him that his girlfriend is hotter then them.

jean girlies check this out!!!!! a fanfic!!! eren’s in there too!!!

#eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren headcanons #aot headcanons #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan headcanons #eren jaeger headcanons #aot fanfiction #aot smut #snk headcanons #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #boyfriend eren #jean kirstein #eren fanfiction #eren yeager fanfiction #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n

[yandereshingeki]

Milk, Honey, and Sugar

Yandere Eren x Reader

Milk Honey and Sugar Masterlist

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Word Count: 12.7k

Content: College AU, Yandere content, Obsessive and Possessive behavior, Fluff, Smut, Dark content, Jiyuu beloved

Content Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, Obsessive Behavior, Eren is a bit of a pervert, but somehow also shy about it, reader going thru it, Eren is described at taller than reader, Pet names (Angel, Baby), Dubcon (from stockholm syndrome), Eren is SO WEAK TO YOU, you’re both a bit shy, Reader is implied to be a tiny bit insecure, Tiddy sucking, Falacio, hand job, Little bit of subby! Eren but only a little, description of Eren’s dick lol, reader makes him CRY, mention of him pulling their hair a little, a smidge of edging, aftercare

Summary: After the realization hits that you aren't ever going to see your friends again, Eren is the one to comfort you—slowly turning you more and more dependent on him.

Oh my goddd It's been so long and I'm so sorry!!! A bunch of things got in the way of me writing for a while, but It's finally back! I'm going to try to focus on this series more so hopefully, there won't be such a big gap in posting again! I already have the next part nearly finished so it shouldn't be long before the next chapter! Also, I'd like to say thank you to anyone that's still here after my absence and anyone that's been here from before :,,) I'm so grateful. I hope this is enough to satisfy until the next chapter! There's a little doodle at the end for you all <33 Can't wait to write the most exciting parts of the story!! (In my opinion at least, lol) Please enjoyy

Chapter 7: Warmth (part 1)

The hours grew longer the more days you spent alone.

Your world was quiet, apart from the tick of the plastic analog clock or the occasional sound of water going through pipes and creaking footsteps from above. Being stuck on your own was such a lonely, stir-crazy existence. The only time you found solace from it was when Eren would make his way down the stairs, greeting you with his abnormally gentle smile and a soft kiss, giving you the company you constantly longed for and sometimes a consoling meal.

He had you wrapped around his finger by now, so tired of the isolation and quiet that you’d do almost anything if it meant he’d stay, just to ease your loneliness for a while. He was a distraction you took with little resistance because you didn’t want to think about the pain of being trapped for even a second.

He seemed to be the only thing that helped your ever-fragile mood, the one thing keeping you grounded as your mental stability frayed. It was hell when he would leave you, forcing you to face the cold basement alone again. You’d try to sleep through it, but sometimes your brain wouldn’t quiet and your emotions would explode to the point that you’d bawl your eyes out and sob until your nose was clogged and your head ached, your mind plagued with the overbearing thoughts of your long-gone friends and freedom. If they’d been looking, you were sure they would have found you by now. It should’ve been so obvious who’d taken you. Or maybe, everyone was too trusting of Eren to realize that deep down, he was an obsessive stalker, someone who kidnapped his best friend. 

Either way, your hope of being found had almost completely diminished. With no access to the outside world, you didn’t even know if a search was ongoing. You had no motivation anymore, even for escape—although it’s not like you could because Eren hadn’t let you go upstairs since your last attempt. He hadn’t touched you the same way he did that night either, occasionally letting his soft kisses grow more heated but never going as far as he did then. You almost missed it. The intimacy, that is. He’d been nothing but sweet to you most of the time, even when all you could do was cry into him.

You felt pathetic being in such a state, constantly switching between craving his presence and despising him for taking you away. You barely felt deserving of being rescued since you gave in to your captor so quickly. Would anyone even want to help you if they knew what you’d done with him? How close you’d remained even after his betrayal? It brought a sick feeling to your stomach whenever you thought about it. All of the lame excuses and blaming your actions on your once adolescent crush or your dwindling will to escape. You knew the truth, yet you still didn’t want to admit it.

It’d been four weeks since your failed escape, and just a little over a month of being stuck in the basement—not that you even knew the specifics of how long it’d been because of how your days began to blend. Since your attempt, Eren spent more time downstairs, sometimes taking his entire day off to stay with you, slowly making you more dependent on his presence because it was all you had. 

Akin to every other day, it started with his journey down, breakfast in hand and laptop under his arm, the device fully charged and ready for another day of playing offline games and watching videos or movies. But, also like every other day, his plans, per usual, were halted when he reached the bottom of the steps and saw you curled up on the bed, crying into your palms. 

His guilt overflowed whenever he saw you like that, but he pushed it away when he remembered all the things that could’ve happened if he hadn’t brought you here. All of the people that could have gotten to you, the things they could have done to you. It made him irrationally angry just thinking about it. In his house, you were safe, and he always knew where you were. To him, that was worth the pain it brought you.

Laying everything on the desk, he rushed to sit next to you, trapping you in his comforting arms and pulling you into his lap, “What’s wrong, baby?” 

He always asked that when you cried, always with the same pet names he’d use to try and ease your tears. You always replied that you didn’t want to discuss it, but he knew what the truth behind your sadness was. He knew it was because you missed everyone and you were terrified of telling him. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” You said, as usual, voice hoarse from tears that’d been pouring since you woke up. You put your head against him, soaking the white pajama t-shirt while he rubbed your back and cradled you like a child. His warmth and his pleasant autumn-like scent made it harder to focus on your problems, the comfort pulling you back to him in an instant. Sometimes it was like you were addicted, craving the constant reassurance of his presence and the distraction from your situation. 

This had become almost routine—he would come downstairs or wake up with you, find you crying, and drop everything to comfort you, just to continue whatever he had planned for the day after as if nothing happened. It was such an exhausting pattern for you, but he couldn't care less. All he cared for was being able to have you with him where you were safe. Being able to hold and touch you was just a bonus.

He held you as tight as he could, trying to make you feel secure while compressed in his arms. You could only snuggle into him, pushing your ear against his chest to listen to his racing heart. It was a calming and familiar white noise that helped distract you from the fact that you were probably never going to get out. It helped you feel sane and reminded you that Eren was another human too.

He sighed feeling you ease into him, finally safe enough to relax too. The room was quiet other than the gentle sounds of breathing and the mechanical ticking of the clock. It was almost peaceful like this, just the two of you cuddled up together. Listening to each other’s soft sounds and finding comfort in them.

“Can I have breakfast now?” You asked, your voice still crackling from your dry throat. You were sniffling and your face was still wet from past tears, but you were more hungry than upset now and didn’t want to wait for food anymore.

Eren smiled and slid you off his lap, making sure to plant a loving kiss on your forehead before he got up to grab the wooden breakfast tray from the desk. He walked back, setting it on your lap and revealing the stack of 4 heart-shaped pancakes to you that still radiated the warmth from being cooked. There was a tiny plate of butter and a cup of syrup sitting next to it, along with a ceramic mug of Eren’s favorite drink, his warm milk with honey and sugar mixed in. He always used to give it to you every time you came over, trying desperately to get you to favor it, and every time it always tasted bland. Not bad, but it didn’t fit your normal preference for drinks.

Recently though, whenever he’d give it to you with your breakfast, it was much sweeter than before. The milk and honey blended together with a pinch of dissolved sugar just tasted saccharine all of a sudden.

At first, you questioned if he spiked it, but when nothing happened after you drank it, you abandoned the idea. It felt so strange to suddenly enjoy something you’d been so indifferent about, but you didn’t want to overthink it. After all, you just wanted to enjoy the warmth from whatever he made you—to enjoy his warmth because it was all you had. 

“Well, are you going to eat?” Eren asked, questioning why you were staring at your food for so long.

Realizing that you’d spaced out while deep in thought, you muttered a quick “sorry” before grabbing the dull plastic knife on the tray to spread the butter over your pancakes.

While you were preparing your breakfast to your liking, Eren sat on the bed again, placing his arm behind you and sliding as close as he could without getting in your way, your thighs pressing together and his cheek almost touching your head.

He watched intensely as you cut into the syrup-soaked cake and stabbed into the small piece you separated, chomping down on it. As you chewed and swallowed it, he leaned his head on yours to get your attention, “Is it good? Did you like it?”

Nodding your head, you cut out another piece to shove into your mouth, “They’re really good! Did you make them from scratch?”

Eren smiled, feeling his heart melt when you gave him praise. He always ate up every little compliment you gave him, no matter how small it was. It was like a hit of dopamine every time you were even the tiniest bit nice—and he was addicted to it. Once he’d even kicked his legs and squealed into his pillow after you commented that he looked hot in a picture he posted, but that was a secret he would be taking to his grave.

“It’s my mom’s recipe… I just made them with a heart-shaped pan for the shape.” He replied, leaning into you and burying his face into the side of your neck while you continued to eat.

“I didn’t know you owned a heart-shaped pan,” You paused mid-bite, “When did that happen?”

“I got it when all of the Valentine's Day stuff was on clearance in stores… I just hid it in my room because I didn’t want anyone to see it while they were here.” He explained, his cheeks warming up at the thought of someone other than you seeing he owned such a bright pink and heart-shaped pan.

You giggled at his embarrassment and kept eating, enjoying the sweet syrup-soaked pancakes while you could. They were delicious, but especially warm compared to everything else, and you were so desperate to have that warmth that you were scarfing them down and barely savoring the taste. The sweet milk with honey came next, the most familiar part of the meal. You chugged it down so fast that you could feel its heat travel down to your stomach, officially ending your breakfast that morning.

It almost made you sad whenever you finished your food. You always felt extra cold after, especially without Eren there. It was never fun to experience.

“All done?” Eren asked, not allowing you a response before taking the tray from you. He placed it on the nightstand at the foot of the bed and went back to you, pushing you onto your back and crawling on top of you without warning. 

After taking a moment to maneuver himself around and get more comfortable, he placed his head on your shoulder and embraced you, the weight of his body crushing you into the mattress. It hurt a little and almost restricted your breathing, but having what was similar to a heated and weighted blanket on top of you was nice. 

He always did this when you finished your breakfast. It was one of his favorite things to do too. He loved being close to you, breathing in your scent and littering tiny kisses all over your neck and collarbone. It felt wonderful to claim you like that.

As you cocooned him with your limbs, he wriggled his way down until his head met your chest, putting his face between your breasts and squeezing you so they squished against his face. You let a gasp slip, face growing hot as a large smile formed on his lips. 

You tried to push against him to get him off, but you struggled immensely from his weight compared to your strength. It took almost all your energy to get him to budge, but he finally got the hint and sat up after minutes of your whining and squirming—only to grab your chest and squeeze as soon as his hands were free. 

You flinched and simultaneously gasped at the sudden grope, yelling at him with fake anger while batting his arms, “You’re such a fucking perv!” 

He chuckled and put his hand on the bed to lean down, his reddened cheeks so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your face, “Yeah, sure. But you love me, don’t you?”

You were silent while you considered what to say, afraid to lie to him but knowing that if you gave him any answer other than yes, he’d probably lose it on you. You did love him. You really did, but not in the way he wanted you to. You didn’t think you did, at least. He was just a safe space for you. A source of comfort while you were trapped. That didn’t mean you loved him, did it?

Growing insecure at your lack of response, Eren squeezed your arm just tight enough to regain your attention and asked you again, this time with more desperation lingering,  “Don’t you, angel?”

Without thinking it over more, you gave him an unconvincing answer, “Yes. I do.”

Satisfied with your response, he gave you a quick peck on the lips and got up to grab his laptop from the desk. You watched him carefully the whole time, sitting up and eyeing him as he picked up the small computer and carried it back to you. 

He placed carefully it in your lap, plopping down and leaning into you like he did during breakfast, his arm slung around your waist. You stared at the sticker-covered computer in your lap, your hands trembling while you considered asking him about going back upstairs again instead of spending another day in bed binging a random show you chose. 

You’d asked previously, even begged him to give you another chance, but his answer was always the same. He’d tell you that he isn’t ready for that, or that he doesn’t trust you yet. If you tried to ask repeatedly or beg for it, he would get angry with you and even lash out, leaving you alone for the entire day as a punishment, no matter how loud your cries got or how much it stung him to hear them. 

“Can I ask something before we start, Eren?” You managed to get out, your words shaking as you spoke.

You could feel him tense up next to you as you asked, his gaze now fixated on the laptop instead of you.

“What is it?” He asked, already knowing the answer. 

You opened your mouth to talk but stuttered so much trying to get the first word out that you had to pause again before talking.

“Can I go upstairs for the day?” You pleaded, quickly adding onto it so he couldn’t instantly deny you, “I’ll do anything you want! Please! I just… want to leave the basement for a while.”

Silence followed.

You were shaking, terrified of what he was thinking. He was staring at the floor, his brows furrowed as he ran through all of his options. He wasn’t angry, not yet at least. He only would be if you pushed for it too much, but he still hated having to answer that question. Why couldn’t you just be happy with what he gave you? He understood that you were bored and lonely, but it was still frustrating. It was so, so frustrating.

“I don’t know if I can trust you yet,” was all he could manage in response, because If he said any more or got too aggressive there would be tears. And he was so weak to your tears. It was the sole reason he always had to leave you when you cried to be let out. If he stayed, his already weak spirit might break, and then you could weave your way into having your way and escaping. He didn’t want to risk anything close to that.

Despite his effort to avoid it, tears began to prickle in the corner of your eyes, almost as if on command. You wanted to leave so badly that you were partially willing to give up your hope of escape if it meant you could at least have that. You would give all of it, just to have that ounce of freedom and self-autonomy back. 

“I don’t want to leave anymore, Eren! I promise! Chain my ankles or handcuff me to you, whatever!  Please, just let me go upstairs with you!” You begged. It was evident you were pushing his limit with the look that took over his face, but you didn’t know what else you could do to convince him.

Eren shut his eyes, the frown on his face deepening, “Baby, please. Don’t do this today.”

“Please, Eren. Please.” You begged again, the first fearful tear spilling over your cheek. The look you gave him was painful, his chest tightening the longer he stared at you. You’d done this almost every day for the last week and it was so aggravating. He hated being separated from you but you forced it on him by pleading so often.

He looked away from you and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands as he snapped at you, “Why? Why do you want to so badly?! Can’t you just be happy with what I give you?” 

He finished with a sigh and waited quietly for your response, but nothing came. You were silent. 

It took Eren several moments to realize that you weren’t going to talk back, so when he finally lifted his head and looked at you, the sight ripped his heart in two.

You had your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth covered as you sobbed into it, trying to hide the sounds so you wouldn’t irritate him more, but seeing you cry like that with such obvious fear diminished any anger he had. He hated being the cause of your tears. He hated it.

Pulling you into his arms again and pushing the laptop aside, he apologized profusely and held you tighter. You whimpered into him, gripping his shirt while he pushed your face against his chest. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I’m sorry for snapping, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He had his hand on your head, digging his fingers into your hair while he repeated his apology, “Please stop crying. Please, you know I hate hearing you cry.”

You hiccuped, holding your breath to choke down your tears. You held it in for a few more moments until you couldn’t anymore, taking an involuntary breath and sobbing into his shirt. In a poor attempt to silence it, you covered your mouth while you cried, quietly begging him not to leave you between sobs. It broke his heart. 

He tried to reassure you, hugging you tightly and petting your head while he cooed, “I won’t leave. I won’t leave this time.”

It took a while, but following a few violent hiccups, silenced sobs, and deep, difficult inhales, your tears were dissipating and you were calming down, clinging to Eren as if your life depended on it. 

He held you close, basking in your touch. He knew why you wanted to leave the basement. He was stupid to think that being trapped there would be enough for you, but after the last time he let you up, he was terrified that you’d try to leave again. If you ever did manage to get away from him, it would mean he’d lose everything, and he didn’t even want to think about that happening. 

You needed to stay with him, where you were safe. Where he could watch over you. But, it was clear you also needed at least a little freedom, otherwise, your mental state could deteriorate even more than it already had, and that would be just as bad as losing you through escape. He didn’t want to reduce you to a shell of your former self. He didn’t want to break you. He just wanted to keep you to himself.

Thinking it over some more while you were wiping your face on his shirt, Eren decided to go against his better judgment and give in to what you wanted, which was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. It was easier that way, considering you were both feeling awful about your situation.

“I’ll—I’ll take you upstairs. I’ll take you upstairs today.” He blurted out, sounding reluctant to say it out loud.

Your entire mood had changed from just that sentence, perking your head up so you could meet his eyes from where you sat on his lap. Eyes wide with excitement, they were lighting up more than they had in the month you’d been stuck there. It was nice for him to see. He’d missed that sparkle so much. 

“I’ll only let you come up if you follow my rules though, okay? If you break them I’m sending you back down and I won’t even think about letting you up for at least a year.” He aggressively added to his previous statement, wanting to be clear with what he expected of you so there wouldn’t be any complaints later.

You rapidly nodded your head, getting ready to agree to whatever he asked if it meant getting that slight sliver of freedom in the end. Lucky for you, he didn’t want to take advantage of your eagerness—not too much at least. He loved you too much to hurt you like that.

With a small sigh, Eren slid you off of his lap and took his laptop, holding out his hand for you after he got up. You took it with a large smile plastered on your face, pulling yourself onto your feet and practically skipping to the stairs because of how happy you were. He was slow to follow after you, not particularly joyful about letting you out of the safe haven he’d created for you, but still willing to if it meant he got to see your bright smile again.

Once he made it to the top, he was hesitant to unlock the door. He really didn’t want to let you out, but when he looked over and saw how excited you looked standing next to him, he couldn’t help but picture how upset you were just prior, and how quickly that changed when he said you could go upstairs. Keeping you locked up and to himself was already selfish enough, he didn’t want to keep suffering even more in a cold basement for his own benefit.

Before he went through the final step of opening the door, he grabbed your hand and squeezed it tight. He was trying to make sure you couldn’t just run off, but also trying to reassure himself that he was doing the right thing. With a final heavy sigh, he unlocked the door and turned the knob with his laptop under his arm, pushing it open and revealing the dim light of morning to you.

You tried to run, not with a hope to escape but more so out of excitement—but Eren was quick to pull you back to him and remind you of your place.

“Don’t forget what I told you.” He spoke sternly, the grip on your hand growing tighter to the point that it hurt. 

His rules—to behave. To do what he asked. From the first time he let you upstairs. The same rules that you broke the last time you were here, and not just because he was vague about what “behaving” meant. Of course, you couldn’t forget.

You sounded dejected as you looked at the creaky wooden floor, “I’m just… excited. Sorry.” 

Sighing, he sauntered forward while pushing you with him, taking the lead but ultimately doing what you wanted by going to the living room. 

Jiyuu got visibly excited when you walked into his view, his fluffy wings opening up slightly while he paced back and forth on the giant bird tree across the room, considering if it was worth it to fly over. 

Eren stopped in his tracks, a small smile brightening his face when he realized what the bird wanted. He always thought it was sweet that he liked you, despite parrots' common behavior of being possessive over their owner. It also made your integration into his home a lot easier, so he wouldn’t have to worry about the bird going after you whenever he was affectionate with you.

“Why don’t you go pick him up?” He asked, trying to push you forward, closer to Jiyuu. 

Excited to see the bird—a living creature other than Eren—but terrified of doing something wrong and being punished for it, you turned to look at him, asking for reassurance that this wasn’t a trap, “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. I won’t be mad at you for walking away from me this time.” He assured you, the hand on your back pushing you even further, harsher this time to the point you almost stumbled.

You stepped forward with hesitance, slowly gaining confidence the closer you got to Jiyuu, your saving grace from complete isolation with Eren. Watching carefully, Eren stayed behind, his gaze burning holes into the back of your head. It made you so nervous, his eyes fixated on your every move. Being watched so closely was highly unpleasant and anxiety-inducing, and you could tell that Jiyuu didn’t like it either.

Climbing onto you when you held your arm out, Jiyuu was quick to run to your shoulder and puff his feathers up, squawking loudly at Eren. He’d never been especially protective of you, nor aggressive towards Eren, so this behavior was completely new—at least to you. It was especially shocking because of how loud he was able to scream, the sound triggering a constant ringing in your ears. 

“Eren? What’s wrong with him?” You panicked, turning to see what the bird was so upset about that he had to shriek, only to be face-to-face with Eren. His knees bent slightly so he met your height, startling you even more when you unexpectedly met his piercing green pupils.

His eyes were glued to the bird, his hand lifted in front of him so he would step up from your shoulder. To your surprise, the bird nipped at his hand and chewed on it, stepping on it when he was finished and acting like he hadn’t just screamed at him. “He’s just being moody. Don’t mind it too much, he just gets like this sometimes, ‘specially when I’m not in the best mood. He can tell.”

As he put Jiyuu back on the tree stand to chew on more of his toys, he walked closer and wrapped his arm around you, practically forcing you into his chest with his laptop pressed against your back. When his other hand was free from the bird’s talons, it joined his other to squeeze you tightly, keeping you close as he leaned over you, inhaling the comforting scent from your skin and hair.

You returned the hug, trying to distract yourself from the sinking feeling you had in your chest when he implied that he wasn’t in a good mood. It was obvious it was because of you—because you wanted to go upstairs. It made you feel so guilty, but also so afraid. He could be unpredictable when he was upset, which is probably why Jiyuu didn’t like it either.

“Why don’t we just watch some TV for now? Since he’s in such a bad mood and I still want to laze around…” He spoke up, backing away but leaving little space between you and him.

Without a thought, you nodded, ready to agree to almost anything as long as it would improve his mood and keep you out of your personal hell known as the basement. With your compliance, he was quick to drag you back onto the couch, setting the laptop down on the coffee table and pouncing, crushing you under his weight. Your whines went ignored by him in favor of grabbing the remote to activate the TV, bringing up the news before he swiftly changed it to an on-demand streaming service. He put on one of your favorite shows—one you’d already watched, probably dozens of times since you’d come here—and threw the controller

down, burying his face into your chest and engulfing you in his arms.

Resting your hands on his back when you finally processed everything he’d sped through in seconds, you focused more on him than the TV, although only able to see the top of his head and his messy bun. His face was buried between your boobs again, except this time, instead of smiling and teasing you about it, he shut his eyes and eased into you, feeling secure enough to relax with you trapped underneath him. The shift in mood was apparent, but all you could think to do was run your hands through his hair, hoping that would soothe him enough to think about letting you stay upstairs more often. 

It was silent after that, besides the background noise of the TV playing and Jiyuu preening his feathers and chewing wood. You were both clinging to each other, unmoving and resting. Eren was so warm, it almost made you tired—but you didn’t want to sleep. Not when you were finally experiencing what you’d wanted so badly for weeks. You longed to walk around and explore the house more, but he probably wouldn’t let you. It was frustrating.

“Eren?” You said, trying to get his attention on you instead of whatever he was thinking about in the silence.

He hummed in reply, not bothering to lift his head because he was too comfortable with his face against your chest. 

You twirled some of his loose hair between your fingers, silently trying to persuade him as you asked, “Can we go to your room? I want to see more than just your living room and kitchen.” 

Before you could continue with your long-winded speech trying to convince him to let you go to a different part of the house, he interrupted you with a finger over your lips, letting out a muffled “mm-mm” while he shook his head that was still against your chest. You frowned, moving his finger away from your mouth and continuing to push, “Why not?”

A scowl took over his face as he peered up at you, his chin stabbing into your sternum when he replied with aggressive venom in his tone, “Because I said no. Drop it.”

Once you nodded, a look of stinging fear glazing your eyes, his expression relaxed and he put his face back into your chest. Although your response calmed him, his answer did nothing to satiate your curiosity. You’d been in his room a few times prior to the kidnapping, so what was so different about now?

You let out a small sigh, continuing to run your hands through his hair but turning your attention towards the TV that still played your favorite show, although you’d begun to get rather tired of it after watching it over and over so much. Especially now, when watching different shows and dramas was all Eren had let you do aside from occasionally letting you play games on his laptop. As relaxing as the routine used to be, it was starting to grow excruciatingly dull. There were only so many days you could do nothing but laze around before you grew tired of it.

“Eren.” You began again, desperate for something to entertain you. You didn’t want to spend all your time out of the basement doing the same thing you did in it.

With a quiet groan, he lifted his head again and frowned, “What now?”

“I’m bored… I want to do something other than watch TV.”

Realizing that you weren’t trying to annoy him about getting into his room again, his eyes softened and he replied with a sweeter tone, “Like what?”

“I don’t know. You have games, don’t you?”

“In my room, yeah. But I don’t want you going in there right now and I’m not leaving you alone to grab anything.”

“Then what else can we do?”

When you asked, his brows scrunched together and he averted your gaze, deep in thought. You watched carefully, worried that he would become irate if you were too talkative while he was trying to relax. 

Slowly, his cheeks darkened as an idea popped into his head—one he’d usually tried to push away so that he wouldn’t risk making you feel uncomfortable with your already fragile emotional state, but right now? You seemed to be in a better mood, and much more content with doing just about anything to ease your boredom. There was nothing to stand in the way of his selfish desires.

Noticing the way his former annoyance bloomed into a red-faced fluster, you grew worried and tried to turn his head so he’d look at you, only for him to avoid meeting your eyes. His cheeks were burning hot to the touch and you could tell he had something on his mind.

“What’s wrong?” You tried to ask calmly despite the tremble in your voice, mentally preparing yourself for whatever emotion he might reply with.

A silent pause followed, and he barely managed to stutter it out, his hesitancy to explain his thoughts holding the words back, “I thought of something we could do if you are really that against just watching TV, but—but it’s kind of lewd. It’s—It’s really lewd actually.”

You could feel your cheeks grow warm at all the things that could mean, quietly urging him to continue out of curiosity about his desire, “Yes…? What is it?”

He was quiet again before he met your eyes, replying with a faltering voice full of anxiety, “I was thinking that maybe… we could take turns touching each other, and we could—I could learn more about your body… and we could make it into a game, I guess? If you really want to, the person who finds the most sensitive spots on the other person could win. That would make it more fun, right? Would something like that interest you more than TV?”

He stared at you with pleading puppy eyes while awaiting your response, his pupils swallowing his irises that practically glowed as they peered into your soul. 

Your entire face burned hot, now matching his. You were like shy kids confessing to each other, so tense and unnerved. 

Speaking with an unfamiliar kind of softness in his voice, he sounded like he would explode with embarrassment if you didn’t respond well, “We don’t have to, but I just—I just really want to touch you again. Even without the ‘game’ part. I’ve missed it. A lot.” 

He felt so perverted just saying it out loud.

His offer was tempting, but you didn’t know if you could trust it. Your judgment had felt so clouded recently and you’d been giving into him more under the guise of gaining enough freedom to escape, but how much would you need before you tried to leave again? The thought of escaping was crossing your mind less and less, and you were growing used to being with only Eren all the time, getting dangerously close to enjoying it. 

Part of you was terrified of ever leaving, terrified of how your friends would react when they found out what you’d already let him do to you, and terrified of leaving what you’d just started becoming accustomed to—but another part of you was terrified to stay. If you did, how far would things go? How deep of a hole would you dig for yourself before it was too late to get out?

“We don’t have to!” He repeated, pulling you out of your thoughts, “I could just find something else for us to do if you don’t want to,”

“It’s okay! It’s fine, it’s fine. We can do that.” You blurted out without processing what you were saying. The last thing you wanted was to upset him, so satisfying him was the only option even if it went against your better judgment. You could deal with the guilt later, but right now you had to focus on keeping his trust. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to give in and have a little fun with someone you’d trusted while you could, take advantage and get the experience you missed out on years before. You’d rather it be him than a stranger. That’s what you told yourself, at least.

“Really? Are you sure?” He asked again to reassure your consent while his lips shifted into a sly smile.

No. You weren’t. But you’d already made your bed, and you’d rather lie in it than rip off the sheets and start from the beginning, “Yeah. I am.”

There was a small moment of silence, the two of you staring at each other before he jumped off of the couch, swiftly making his way to the tree where Jiyuu was. He was quick to take his feathery friend to his cage, closing the door and covering it with the blanket he’d normally only use for him at night. Despite the bird's clear displeasure of being put to bed early, showcased through his sad-sounding caws as the cage was locked, he left the cover on and returned to you on the couch, towering over you with half-lidded eyes and a beet-red face.

“Uh, could you get on my lap when I sit down?” He asked timidly, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

You responded by nodding and sliding to the side, allowing him to sit while he dragged you onto his lap to straddle him.

Once again, it grew quiet. You were looking at anything but each other, the awkward tension making it difficult to keep eye contact. You were both used to intimate actions, but not intimate words, so anything you thought of saying fell short before it could leave your lips. 

It felt like you were fumbling teenagers again, lacking experience and not knowing where to begin—although Eren was the only one of you who had any to begin with. The most you had under your belt was some awkward and sloppy kissing between you and your short-term ex-boyfriends from high school, but he didn’t know that.

“Since this is a game… Do I get anything if I win?” You asked first, trying to break the ice and guarantee at least something good would come out of this.

You watched the cogs turn in Eren’s head for a moment before he responded, trying to figure out how to word it so that you didn’t request anything unreasonable after his answer, “I guess you can have something… Just tell me what, as long as it doesn’t have anything to do with leaving.”

It only took you a minute to decide what you wanted, the idea popping into your head rather quickly when you thought about what he would actually be willing to give, “Can I go in your room?”

He sighed hearing your response, a cross glare in his eyes while he reluctantly acceded, “Fine, but only if you A, win, and B, give me until tomorrow to clean it.”

The excitement you had grew rapidly, but just as it peaked, it dissipated when you remembered what you would have to do to get your reward, and the fact that it wasn’t guaranteed in the first place. The small smile that’d grown on your face faded once you realized it, and then the pressure ramped up once again.

“So…” He finally began, a short pause holding him while his eyes drifted down to your chest, his hands landing on your hips where he rubbed small circles into them with his thumbs, “Where should we start?”

You were both anxious, but he was the only one trying to hide it. His hands were shaking, but he tried to mask it with subtle movements down your plush thighs. He wanted to touch you. He wanted to feel all of you and run his hands over your entire body—but he wanted to make sure you wanted it too. He needed you to want it too.

“Wherever you want,” you replied, too nervous to say much else. His hands felt like fire against your cold skin, the feeling of them gliding over your body making your cheeks boil. 

His fingers grazed down to your knees and back up your body, stopping just below your chest to speak quietly, “I want to touch you everywhere though.” 

It was obvious what he wanted to do, but was too nervous to do it. His brows scrunched together while he stared at your chest, sunken in thought. The sight almost had you giggling from how silly he looked like that, so deeply focused on your breasts. To try and urge him forward and get past both of your anxieties, you slowly intertwined your fingers with his, leading his hands up to grope you.

His eyes flicked up to you as he made contact with your chest again, his gaze relaxing and eyes lighting up as they stared into yours. You looked so pretty in your current position, sitting on his lap with your cute thighs squished against him, your hands covering his, and your gorgeous eyes shying away from his stare. 

“Can I kiss you? Please?” He asked, leaning in so close that you could feel the heat radiating off of his crimson face while he squeezed you.

Letting out a small squeak from his grip, you decided to skip the verbal reply and gently pushed your lips against his, your noses bumping awkwardly because you were hesitant to do anything that could deepen the kiss further. Despite this, Eren missed the cue and tilted his head to the side, trying desperately to interlock your lips and part yours.

His groping grew rougher as he relaxed, fingers touching your nipples through the thin shirt you wore, the fabric barely shielding how hard they were growing. Your face was burning while he felt you up, sweat beading on your forehead when something stiff pressed against your crotch. 

It was so warm. Everything about him was warm. His body, his demeanor, even his smell. It was all so warm compared to the cold you always felt. Even before he took you away, it was always cold. But he was so warm.

“Eren…” you mumbled into his lips, your pulse rising and your arms falling over his shoulders.

He pulled away for a moment, face still inches away from yours, “What is it?”

“You’re warm.”

You could feel him chuckle as you said it, responding with “So are you.”

He kissed you again, this time carefully pushing his tongue between your lips in a way that was less than forceful and moving one of his hands to the back of your neck to hold you there. His touch sent tingles up your spine, your body melting into his hands. It was like your integrity burned away when he was close, and you couldn’t help but crave more.

Eren’s other palm slipped under your shirt, sliding up your stomach and squeezing your bare breast before lifting the fabric further. Your body tensed again, suddenly growing anxious at the thought of him seeing your chest nude. It’s not like he hadn’t before, but it was only now that it felt so nerve-wracking. You couldn’t pinpoint why, but now the thought made your heart race.

When he finally pulled his face away from yours, giving you time to breathe, it was only so he could pull your shirt over your head and throw it aside. Following that, his mouth was back on yours and he was reaching for your chest again—but this time, you stopped him. You took your arms off his neck to cover yourself, anxiety pulsing at the thought of him looking at you more. You didn’t feel this way the other times you’d been nude around him, so why were you so nervous now? Everything was burning all of a sudden, and it almost made you feel sick.

“Hey, is something wrong?” Eren questioned in his sweetest voice, attempting to quell your sudden fear by backing off to cup your cheek, his other hand resting on your thigh. You tried to look him in the eyes, but your stomach sank when you met them. His irises were the brightest, most intimidating green that made your heart ache, you couldn’t stand to stare. 

“I’m—I’m kind of scared.” You stammered, staring down at his hand while his thumb rubbed small circles into your skin.

His brows furrowed as he overthought what you said, “Just… all of a sudden? It wasn’t like this before, why now?” 

He didn’t mean to seem angry, but his expression showed the opposite. So, feeling pressured with a slight tinge of fear in your eyes, you quietly apologized and began to uncover yourself, afraid of upsetting him and causing any harm that might get you sent back downstairs. He stopped you immediately, grabbing your wrists and holding them so your arms still covered you. 

“Don’t apologize… It’s fine if you don’t want to.” He reassured, reaching to grab your shirt beside him on the couch, “I don’t want to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Sadness laced his tone, his expression matching it as he pulled the garment over your head. It wasn’t because you were hesitant to go further with him, you knew that, but your heart hurt to see him making such a face. So sad, even with the tiny smile on his lips that was meant to reassure you. It was more than just wanting to stay upstairs. You wanted to make him feel happy. Even if you felt guilty about how you would do it.

“No, no, Eren…” You stopped him from pulling the shirt down, pushing it back over your chest while you wiped your watering eyes with your other arm. “It’s—It’s not that. I'm just—I’m—So nervous.” 

“What are you nervous about?” He asked, trying to avoid the temptation of looking at your now bare torso while he addressed the issue at hand. 

“I don’t know,” you started, mentally going through the list of things that were making you anxious to find something to say other than the truth about the shame you felt, “This is just… a lot different than the last few times you’ve seen me naked. You’re so close so you’re going to see… everything.”

“I don’t care what they look like. The only thing I care about is that it’s you.” He grabbed your hands and squeezed them, cheeks blazing red as he leaned close to you to confess, “You’re perfect to me. So perfect.”

Your heart began to swell again, this time for a different reason. 

He always made you feel so wanted, even before he took you away, his words like a warm blanket around your needy heart. It almost had you crawling into his hold, with no intention of ever leaving. No one ever praised you like he did, so maybe that’s why it had such a large effect on you. You were so susceptible to it that it was dangerous to your escape, constantly tiptoeing the line between enjoying the praise and falling face-first into Stockholm syndrome. It was a dangerous game you were playing, and without even realizing, you were losing. 

“Can… you touch me again?” You asked quietly after letting his praise marinate in your head for a minute, prying your hands out of his to pull your shirt over your breasts again. 

Shocked by your sudden switch-up, his eyes widened for a moment before he awkwardly nodded while placing his hands on your waist, finally letting his eyes trail down to your breasts.

Seeing them so close sent blood rushing not only to his face, but also down under, his already semi-hard on pushing uncomfortably against his pants. He wanted to brand them with his bites and kisses, cover them in his spit, and bruise them with hickeys to claim them as his. He was opposed to rushing you though, so all he could do was drag his hands up your torso until they finally cupped around your soft flesh, squeezing lightly just to confirm that he was really touching you and that it wasn’t just another wet dream.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to repeat his reassurances in your head while he fondled you. His normally cold hands were warm against your skin, squishing and playing with your chest and making your already hot body feel like it was burning. 

He was pushing them together, bouncing them, and holding them in his palms. It was so embarrassing, but you were trying desperately to keep it together. When you finally brewed up enough confidence to pry your eyes open, you saw how happy he looked, as silly as it was, and it took everything inside of you not to let out a giggle that could’ve embarrassed him. You wanted him to keep enjoying himself, even if your face burned from the awkwardness of it.

But just as you were growing used his hands on you, he threw a question at you that hit like a brick to the face, draining every ounce of courage out of you in a split second, “Can I… suck on them?”

He was leaning towards your chest as he spoke, looking up at you with anticipating eyes that made another wave of intense heat flare through your face. You were barely getting used to his fondling, but to suck on them? You might faint. With no experience except your own fingers and numerous toys, you didn’t even know how sensitive your nipples could be. The thought of squirming around in his lap while he lapped so leisurely on your tits made you shiver. But at the same time, it also piqued your curiosity and made the warmth between your thighs grow. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like.

“Yeah. Sure. That’s—That’s fine. Just—be gentle, ok? No one’s ever done that to me before…” You replied with a shaking voice, brows pushed together with worry while you avoided eye contact.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked rhetorically, hungry eyes still gazing up at you as he leaned towards your chest. He broke his stare to pull your shirt up and off again, cupping your breasts and latching onto one of your nipples like it was all he was born to do. 

You winced in response, anxious to experience the feeling for the first time. Just having your sensitive bud in his mouth felt so different, so warm and wet—so when he took a long, slow lick, you couldn’t stop the whimper that left your throat. 

He almost lost his composure right then when he heard that noise. It was amazing, like a slice of a heavenly melody he wanted to keep locked in his brain forever. He wanted more of those sounds. He needed more of them.

With your other breast cupped in his palm, he started to pinch and nudge the bud while he sucked softly on the one in his mouth. You were already letting out more quiet whines, holding the back of his head while your fingers tangled in his hair. You couldn’t even begin to explain the burning pleasure that rippled from your chest to your core or the throbbing ache that proliferated between your thighs. It felt so much better than you imagined, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, Eren being the one to do it made your heart race. 

Desperate to pry more sounds from you, his intensity rose by the minute, lips tugging on your nipple and fingers pinching the other. As more soft whines and moans spilled from your mouth, your spine arching to push your chest further into his face, he could feel the stiffness in his pants painfully begging to be freed. You sounded beautiful, he just wanted to throw you onto the couch and fuck you senseless while you cried out. Holding back from that was so hard, especially with all the cute noises you were making. He wanted to take you right here, but he knew he’d have to be patient if he didn’t want you to feel rushed or forced. He needed to be like a wolf stalking its deer. Slow, calculated, determined.

Pulling away from your mound, he looked at your swollen, spit-covered bud, smiling to himself with newfound confidence while moving to your other one. His possessive feelings were growing with each mark he left on you, every new blemish claiming another piece of your body for himself. Once he had all of you, god knows how he’d act.

He had one arm around you, pushing you closer to him to make it easier for him to swallow your chest while his hands groped your ass and felt up the wet spot between your legs, just barely tugging at the hem of your shorts when the opportunity arose. He was sucking hard, running his tongue diligently over the nipple and flicking it repeatedly to steal more moans from you. Every noise, every whimper, and every whine was just more motivation to him, fueling his excitement to keep touching you and eventually have you touch him. He almost couldn’t take it anymore, the bulge in his pants becoming increasingly painful the longer this went on.

It seemed he finally snapped after a few more minutes of vigorous sucking and quiet whimpers, grabbing your arms and forcing his face away from your chest after he heard you whisper out his name. As much as he wanted to continue the petting, he needed to have you now or he might just burst. 

“Fuck whatever stupid idea I had for a game, I need you to touch me. I need you to touch me now, please.” Eren begged, sounding more desperate than you’d ever heard him before, almost growing teary-eyed at how pent-up he was becoming. His hips were roughly grinding into yours, praying for anything to rub against or release his tension. He was so frantic that you thought he might get on his knees and beg if you said no.

If you were being honest with yourself, you were curious. You wanted to know what he felt like and how he would react. You wanted to revel in the feeling of being desired so badly.

“You want me to touch you… that bad?” You asked, your voice quivering from the intense feeling rumbling through your body that you could only describe as heavy. Without Eren’s support, you would probably collapse into a hot mess on the couch.

Eren’s eyes grew wide as if you were spouting nonsense in a language he didn’t understand, “Of course I do! Why the hell do you think we’re here in the first place? I’ve never wanted anything so badly!”

His hands were shaking out of frustration, his grip strong enough to leave marks. Though, when the fear gleamed in your eyes and your muscles tensed up, he was quick to calm, loosening his hold and sliding his hands down to hold yours instead.

“I’m… I’m sorry, I’m just… so, so desperate. I want you so badly,” He apologized, looking down to avoid shameful eye contact with you, “I need you. Badly.”

You stared at him quietly for a moment, playing around with the ideas in your head before deciding through your lust-clouded judgment that you wanted him too. In the moment, you didn’t care if you would regret it later. You just wanted to touch him. You wanted to have control over him, if only for a little while.

For once, you were the one to make the first move, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on his forehead while you reached your hand to his groin. His entire body stiffened as you put your hand on the tent in his pants, his cheeks flushing when he peeked up at you with that desperate look in his eyes.

“Please—Please be gentle. Don’t squeeze it too much, I don’t—know how much I can take…” He stuttered out as if the fabric holding his cock back hurt any less than you squeezing him too tightly would.

Nodding, you caressed him again, watching carefully as his eyes squeezed shut and he leaned back, uttering a soft moan from your hand on the underside of his cock. He was still tense, but you could see that he was enjoying your touch, so you carried on. Beginning gently, you cupped him through the thin fabric of his pajama pants and massaged your hand up and down his pulsing shaft, eventually moving to tug at the band around his waist to silently ask permission to free him from his confines. 

Although you wanted to take it slow, you were also desperate to see and touch him without the barrier separating you; and it seemed like he was too. That much was evident when he didn’t bother to let you pull his pants or boxers down, ripping them off himself and leading your hand back to his freed shaft by your wrist.

Catching on quickly, you tightened your hand around him and eyed up his length, examining it while he went back to gasping at every little movement you made. He was a lot bigger than you expected him to be up close, not to mention how heavy he felt in your palm. Seeing all of the little things you hadn’t noticed previously, it looked so different too. 

Veins crawled up from the bottom of his girth, stopping a few inches before reaching his head, and he was swollen and red at the tip, already leaking precum. His bush was well-trimmed, a tiny freckle at the base of it, and it curved upwards while it twitched in your hand. You never thought you’d see a dick that looked so… perfect. Just holding his weight in your hands had you clenching around nothing, the thought of it filling you up passing through your mind more than once.

You slowly moved your hand up, stopping with your thumb on the underside of where his head and shaft met. You’d read online about men being sensitive in that spot, and it appeared to be true by the way his breath hitched when you ghosted your digit over it. Curious, you pressed lightly and caressed the spot up and down, causing his hips to jolt unexpectedly while a louder gasp left his throat. 

“Ohh my god. Oh my god.” He breathed out, pushing his elbows into the cushions behind him to grip the couch beneath his thighs more efficiently. He’d never felt this good, even with his other, more experienced flings in the past. Even with less skill and precision, you were just so much better.

You were you. His dream. Everything he’d ever wanted in life. That’s what you were. His most prized possession, his most important person. That alone made everything feel superior. Because it was you doing it.

Enjoying the erotic look on his face, you kept up your motions and continued to stroke the spot below his head, sending him into a frenzy of squirms and whimpers as he grew overstimulated just by the pad of your thumb. His hips bucked up, desperate to get more friction to tip him over the edge of his already approaching orgasm.

“Fuck—Fuck, you have no idea how good this feels.” He uttered under his breath, voice shaking as you rubbed even faster. His whimpers were high-pitched, turning into something more akin to whines as he neared the end; but just as he was reaching the hilt of his pleasure, you pulled your hand away, leaving him to cry and plead for your touch again. 

Seeing him so desperate for it was such a change from his usual self. It was like the roles swapped, and now you were the one that had him wrapped around your finger. You never wanted it to end. You longed to keep what little control over him you had for as long as you could. Plus, he looked cute when he was the one tomato-faced and begging.

Leaning close, you kissed his jaw while he audibly sniffled, reaching up to put your hand behind his head and push it forward to kiss his forming tears away. He whimpered again, one hand clawing the couch while the other flew to your hip. You pecked his face, slowly trailing to his lips so you could kiss, fully entrapping him in the scheme forming in your head. 

Your fingers wrapped around his shaft for a second time, shocking him into pulling away before you pushed your lips against his again, assertive about keeping his mouth against yours. He was already moaning into you, grip growing tight as you began moving your hand up and down his length.

He was practically melting underneath you, arms trembling as your hand worked his hardness, pumping it rapidly. His cries for you were only growing louder, turning into muffled chants about how close he was to finishing. You loved to hear it, but you knew you didn’t want it to end so soon.

Once again, you let go of him, moving off of his lap and taking a seat next to him on your knees while he whined about your second absence. However, his complaints ceased when he realized what you were doing, your head already moving closer to his length and your hand taking its place at the base of it. 

“Wait, wait,” He panicked, trying to stop you, reaching forward to grab some of your hair and pull your head away, “Are—Are you sure you want to do that? It doesn’t taste as good as you might think.”

Your mouth changed from its open “O” into a pout, a frown taking over your features as he stopped you from finishing him off, “I know what I want, Eren. Please let me.”

With your familiar longing gaze piercing his, he was quick to give in and remove his hand from your head, thanking the lord that he held the motivation to wash himself regularly and make sure he was clean every time he interacted with you. Right now you wanted him almost as much as he wanted you, and if you were so certain about it then he wasn’t about to stop that. He needed to take his chance to savor it because god knows how long he’d wanted this and when he'd get another chance. You finally wanted him too, so it would be foolish to stop now.

“Just… don’t push yourself.” He muttered, running his hand down your back while you resumed what you were doing before.

You nodded with a quiet hum, placing a gentle kiss on the head and taking an experimental lick just below. Tracing the pad of your finger up and down his veins, you took in all of the little shudders you managed to coax out of him and began a trail of kisses down the underside of his length. The way he was almost pouting with embarrassment while his cheeks were such a deep shade of red was adorable, it just made you want more. You wondered if this was how he felt about you most of the time, so enamored that he couldn't think about anything other than your face.

Reaching the base with your pecks, his cock twitching every time you made contact, you stuck out your tongue and pressed it against him. Slowly and tediously, you dragged it back up to the top, leaving a trail of saliva in your wake while Eren bit back a whine. A few more frivolous kisses to the tip and you finally took him into your mouth, pushing your tongue against him while you lowered your head as much as you could without gagging.

Lifting your head, you peered up at him, studying his face while you tried to force more into your mouth, unable to fit more than a few inches before tears emerged in the corners of your eyes. He was so big, you could barely get anything in, but that didn’t seem to affect the amount of pleasure it gave him when you finally began bobbing your head. Eren was already turning into a mess again, but the second you started moving the hand on his shaft in rhythm with your mouth, he nearly broke down crying from the feeling. 

Tracing shaky hearts on your back, he stared down at you, trying to burn the image he saw into his memory and lock it away for safekeeping. It was exhilarating to see you like this, so much so that he had to cover his mouth to prevent the moans that slipped out from growing too loud. He couldn’t handle it, especially after being edged twice, he was going to go crazy if you didn’t let him finish this time. 

Holding himself still was the most difficult thing, especially when all he wanted to do was hammer into your throat like there was no tomorrow—but he didn’t want to make you choke on him. Not yet, at least. It felt too early to be that rough with you. 

Being built up and denied satisfaction the last two times meant it wasn't long before the band was stretched again, dangerously close to breaking. The way your tongue pressed against the sensitive spot below his head, the way your fingers curled around him and stroked everything that didn’t fit in your mouth had him gasping for air. It was driving him up the wall, pushing him so close that he could feel himself at the very edge, nearly tumbling over it even if you weren’t the best at what you were doing. 

When your eyes flicked up to meet his, watching his ruby-red and sweat-slicked face twisted with pleasure, he finally snapped. You watched his eyes squeeze shut as he threw his head back, crying out in whimpers as he lost control of his hips through his orgasm, repeatedly chanting “I love you” between swears.

You couldn’t help but gag as more than you could handle was shoved down your throat, eyes going wide as your mouth was coated with a bitter taste that made you wince. You had to pull away while he was still coming, coughing and gagging more at the feeling of his release in your throat while the rest spilled over your hand.

Eren was apologizing under his breath, still struggling through the pleasure of his climax—but you decided to push him the slightest bit further as revenge for making you choke, massaging your finger over the same spot you had earlier and sending a shock through his entire body again. You continued to touch him as you sat up, leaning into him with your head on his shoulder so you could feel the way he shook from the overstimulation. 

“Please—Please, oh my god I can’t take it.” He cried, tears bordering his eyes as you teased him. Seeing that you didn’t want to go too overboard, you decided to give him mercy and let go, watching him go limp as his body finally relaxed. He was panting, covered in sweat like he’d just finished one of the intense basketball scrimmages you used to watch him do, even though he’d only gotten sucked off and pleasured. It was almost cute to you, mostly because it made it much more obvious how much of a hold you had on him, and you enjoyed it. You enjoyed being desired.

  Following a few minutes of quiet, filled only with sounds of his panting and shuffling of you snuggling against his arm, he spoke up again through pants, slowly coming back into his normal headspace that was dedicated to caring for you, “Was… Was that okay? Are you doing okay?”

Your eyes half-lidded while you stared at him from his shoulder, you nodded with a smile spreading across your lips. The bliss of everything was still holding onto you, the giddy feeling that bubbled in your chest stemming from the moments prior. You just wanted to stay like this, cuddled up against him while you relaxed together in sweet silence, only broken occasionally by your back-and-forth comments about aftercare and gentle kisses to his collarbone.

When Eren finally decided to get up, still so delirious from the pleasure that he hadn’t even thought about how you were out of sight, it was only to grab a rag and some water from the kitchen. Then was back on the couch as quickly as he’d left, tidying you up and pulling you into his lap to cradle you. While you clung to him, burying your face into his neck, he leaned forward to grab your shirt from the floor, quickly pulling it over your head so you could get back to cuddling. 

You were feeling oddly clingy, more so than before. You just wanted to stay in his arms, snuggled up to his warm body. It was the most at peace you’d felt since you’d been taken. It felt nice. 

Suddenly pulling you out from your comfort, Eren pushed your face away from his neck, eliciting a whine from you as he grabbed the glass of ice water and brought it up to your lips, “Come on, you should drink. I know that I probably didn’t taste very good…”

Pouty about being pulled away, you snapped back playfully with a raised brow while pushing the glass away, “How would you know what you taste like?” 

His face twisted in embarrassment, his brows furrowing as he stammered trying to explain himself, “Well, I don’t, but I’ve just—I’ve been told it doesn’t taste very good.”

You giggled at his response, “That doesn’t mean you don’t taste good to me,” even though it was true that he tasted rather foul.

Slightly flustered, Eren quickly tried to regain control of the conversation, feigning confidence while placing his hand on your nape to push your face close to his, “Well why don’t you let me have a taste for myself so I can see?”

“Mm, how am I supposed to do that?” You asked.

“Like this.” He replied, pushing his lips against yours and dipping his tongue into your mouth before pulling away just as quickly, leaving you stunned at his sudden shamelessness.  

While you were still staring at him with your mouth slightly agape, he pushed the glass cup into your hands, forcing you to hold it as he guided it up to your mouth. Finally pulled out of your trance, you let out a small sigh and took a sip, the cool water finally washing away the bitter taste his release had left in your mouth. 

“I guess I don’t taste that bad,” He started, which on its own almost caused you to spit out the water, only to be shocked again when he continued the statement, “Or maybe I was just tasting you.”

You nearly choked while trying to swallow, yelling out afterward and slapping his shoulder, “Eren!”

“Shh, shh, just come here so I can hold you again.” He cooed, taking the glass from you and pulling you against him, “My angel.”

Pressing kisses to your head, he smiled as you snuggled into him, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck while he pet your hair. With both of you relaxed, it was quiet once more, the two of you cuddled into each other as the silence surrounded you, leaving you both to your thoughts.

Eren was thinking about what you’d said, about what you wanted if you won his “game.” Even if you didn’t remember it in the moment, he would feel bad if he didn’t give it to you eventually. Not to mention, you were smart. You’d end up asking about it again at some point. He knew you would, and the thought of it made him anxious.

It’s not that he didn’t want you to go into his room, it was just that the things he had out would be deathly embarrassing for you to see. Once he got the chance to clean everything up, it would be fine for you to come in. If anything, he wanted you to stay in his room. He wanted to be able to trust you enough to sleep in his bed with him, to experience that kind of deep intimacy with you; but with everything you’d done recently, he still wasn’t sure about it. However, he did have a somewhat peculiar idea about what you could do to gain his trust—one that would get the authorities off of his back too if he played the cards right. Your reaction to the idea would tell him all he needed to know about how much he could trust you too. It was brilliant—at least to him, it was.

As if your minds were parallel to one another, you decided to speak up and ask about what’d been promised to you, “Hey… am I still gonna get my reward since I technically won that game you mentioned?” 

“Funny you say that actually, I was just thinking about it,” he began his reply, tightening his arms around you so that you would be as flush against him, no space separating you, “And I thought about something else we could do that you might like a little more.”

Jumping to the conclusion that he was trying to back out of his past agreement, a frown formed on your face and you opened your mouth to scold him, only to be stopped with a finger pushed to your lips followed by his loud shushing.

“Shh! Just let me finish before you chew me out!” He hushed you, pressing kisses between your wrinkled brows until they relaxed, then continuing, “My idea wasn’t that different from yours. It’s pretty much the same. I’ll let you come into my room tomorrow, except I’ll also let you stay the night with me there.”

Again not allowing him to finish, you interrupted excitedly with a smile already taking over your face, “Really? In your bed? With you?”

Eren already spent many of his nights downstairs with you, but that wasn’t the same as sleeping with him in his bed. Sleeping in his room not only meant you were free from the unfriendly aura of the basement, but that you would have light when you woke up. You could wake up to the warm morning sun for the first time in a month. You’d missed it so much.

“Yes. With me.” He began again, clearing his throat and frowning at your repetitive habit of interrupting him, “But only under one condition.” 

Taking note of his annoyance, you stayed quiet this time, eyeing him as a way of silently asking him to continue.

“You need to call the police department tomorrow morning and tell them you don't want to go home.”

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