#eren yeager series

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 6 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

ummmmm HIII so sorry i know i still owe you guys a million drabbles and i haven't been posting as much but this chapter is just chock-full of drama and i'm so excited to share it bc hehehe it's a rollercoaster. also we should def stop listening to sasha. sneaky posting; have fun babies!!!! i cannot WAIT to hear your thoughts

specific cws: alcohol use, violence (like fist-fighting level not insane), mentions of drugs, swearing, incredibly awkward tension lol

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“The course of true love never did run smooth.” A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare (Act I, Scene 1)

You’ve done a lot of partying in your days, but you never thought a hangover could float over your shoulders for damn near two weeks. Then again, maybe that rancid taste in your mouth is regret instead of the practical gallons of liquor you’d guzzled that night.

Historia tells you to delete the evidence, have a glass of wine with your friends, focus on your studies, put meaning back into the happy distractions that make up life. Sasha tells you to suck it up, download Tinder, do something other than wallow in your bed with nothing on but the fairy lights along your ceiling. Ymir tells you men aren’t worth embarrassing yourself for, maybe start swinging the other way, that she knows a few very pretty single ladies.

You meet all of their advice with a slow nod, sometimes a chuckle, put your head down, and go about your business, letting the shame follow you around like a little rain cloud from building to building around campus. Even your students have noticed something’s making you tick; Falco and Gabi left a package of Crumbl cookies in your office the other day, and for the first time, Zofia has begun to raise her hand in class. It’s heartwarming, really, but it doesn’t solve your problem.

Problems would be the better term for it. To start, there was your royal fuck-up with Eren. You had over-indulged and gotten a little too flirty to be “friends”, sure, it happens, but something had snapped in you when you saw Eren with that leggy blonde hanging all over him at the club.

Breeze. Even wearing naught but a skirt and some thin tights with the early winter wind whipping around your legs, just the thought of her name makes your blood boil. She was perfect, all bouncy and easygoing and cool, hippie clothes. To be fair, she was the one with the true claim on Eren; you had dug your own grave, far too confident in your ability to be just friends with someone so…so Eren.

Your friendship had been growing closer and closer by the passing day before that night, texting at nearly every minute of the day and spending time together wherever you could fit it in your full schedule. You had made plans to bake Christmas cookies together, even despite Eren’s protests that Christmas was a “capitalistic hellhole of a holiday season”, had acted out your favorite Shakespeare scenes in your pajamas, much to Eren’s amusement, and had made a habit of staying up late into the night watching and rewatching your favorite animes, heatedly debating characters. It had been butterfly-inducing, dizzying, perfect. Until you had indulged in one too many shots and humiliated yourself, that is.

Seeing Breeze all over Eren had made you realize the severity of your mistake trying to keep Eren in your life, realize the warm feeling blooming in your chest every time he grinned at you, all teeth and his little chin dimple, was decidedly much more than a platonic appreciation for a new friend. It turned out that you’d been right from the start; you weren’t his type, and to make matters worse, his actual taste in women had been thrust in your face unexpectedly.

When you had awoken the next morning, debating on whether to fall back asleep immediately or dash to the toilet, Historia had greeted you with a sorry smile, a cup of coffee, and a quiet word of advice to look through your phone. Knowing your drunken self, you pulled up your phone calls first, wanting to make sure you hadn’t accidentally Facetimed your mom to tell her how much fun you were having or something cringe-worthy of the sort. But no, of course it had to be much worse than that.

There was a phone call– to Eren. Your call log had recorded a one minute and thirty-six second phone call between you and Eren, one you obviously didn’t remember making.

“Please tell me you were with me when I called Eren,” you groan, so naive, “did I completely embarrass myself?”

Historia blushes. “Well, he didn’t answer, if it’s any consolation–”

“Oh, thank god–”

“But that didn’t exactly stop you,” Historia fiddles with the edge of her t-shirt, “you left him a voicemail.”

Even through your throbbing headache, you shoot right up out of bed at that. “What?! What did I say?”

“I don’t know,” Historia moans woefully, putting her hands over her face, “I’m sorry, I tried to stop you, but you ran off as soon as you started talking. By the time I caught up to you, you were already hanging up.”

“So, there’s a voicemail from drunk me on Eren’s phone, and neither of us have any idea what it says?”

“Correct.”

“My life fucking sucks.”

“It’s about to get a whole lot worse,” Historia says, throwing your sheets back and snuggling beside you in the bed, burrowing her face in your shoulder, “check your texts.”

And oh, had it gotten worse. Your drunken, foolish text sat in your outbox, unanswered, unread, and inexcusable. Six months later and you were right back where you started, begging a ghost of a man to explain why he couldn’t love you.

> hi luke, i’m sorta ficked up, but i misz you. why did yoi never call me???? you owe me at leasttg that. a fcking explanation,. 

Storming through campus, coat tucked around your shoulders against the biting chill, you wince at the memory. You haven’t deleted the unanswered text yet, keeping it stale in your phone as a reminder of what happens when you get too attached to people you know aren’t good for you.

You thought you’d be more heartbroken over the text to Luke and its lack of an answer, but surprisingly, you’re not. It’s Eren haunting your thoughts, Luke’s just the placeholder for all of your anger at this point. Eren isn’t to blame for all of this, you are, and that’s why you can’t bring yourself to face him, can’t bring yourself to answer any of the hesitant texts he’s sent you since that god-awful night.

You’re not in college anymore, you have to keep reminding yourself. You’re twenty-four, and you’d like to think you’re past the phase of your life where you’re handing your heart out to anyone that passes like it’s a Costco sample. You aren’t even sure if you want Luke anymore at this point, if you could even speak to him if you bumped into him these days. He had, admittedly, treated you like dirt, wrenched your heart out from your chest and left it on the sidewalk to collect dust. At least you can hate him, hate what he did to you, hate that you’re stuck on him like a broken record skipping to the same chorus every few weeks.

You can’t hate Eren, though. You can be disappointed in him for entertaining his terrible ex-girlfriend, not aloud of course because he hadn’t actually mentioned her to you himself, but you can do it internally. Even that isn’t enough to make you feel better; not only had he not trusted you, not felt safe or comfortable enough with you to share the skeletons in his closet, but he was likely zooming full-speed down a dead-end street, the way Sasha tells the story. Your heart aches for him out of a painful mixture of pining and fervent concern.

Your only solution so far has been to dive headfirst into your coursework and your students; it hasn’t done much to distract you, but with finals on the horizon, it’s not the worst method of coping you’ve come up with in your days.

Your newly invigorated dedication to your work and your courses are the cause of you dragging yourself across campus to 104, desperate for caffeine and practically a corpse after two weeks of near-constant self-shaming keeping you up at night.

The smell of the coffee shop, earthy and warm, hits you almost as hard as the blasting heat inside, and you practically slouch upon entering, the weight of the cozy atmosphere cocooning you like a warm blanket. If there’s one place that will always feel like a hug, it’s 104 Beans, your coffee shop of choice (and obligation, considering the small size of your campus) for the last six years.

Pieck, your favorite barista, greets you in her typical dreamy manner. “Hi love, same as usual?”

“Hey Pieck,” you greet her with a weary smile. As you dig around in your bag for your wallet, the extent of your exhaustion versus the amount of work you have left to do surfaces in your brain. “Actually…no, not my usual. Can I get a quad shot Americano?”

Pieck pauses where she’s scribbling onto a paper cup with a Sharpie, eyes flitting back up to you in disbelief. “A quad shot Americano?”

“A quad shot Americano.”

“Jesus,” Pieck sighs, eyes wide, “work’s that rough, huh? Black coffee not going to cut it?”

“The shakes will be worth it,” you confirm, swiping your card through the machine.

“Can I please make it a cappuccino then? You’re going to need something creamy to get all that espresso down,” Pieck looks back up at you, eyes pleading.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but–”

“Almond milk, I know,” Pieck winks at you, sliding your cup down the assembly line of baristas working amongst the hissing of the espresso machine and the pleasant, folky music floating from the speakers. “We’re a little busy, so give me five and I’ll bring it over to you.”

You smile gratefully and collect your things, turning to scout out what’s hopefully a quiet table in the corner, when a pair of arms tossed around your shoulders stops you. The familiar scent of fruity perfume tickles your nose, and you slump against the tight grip in relief.

“You made it out of the house!” Sasha’s eyes glow with pride, as if you’d just run a marathon.

“It’s not like I’m a hermit,” you roll your eyes, “I have class five days a week.”

“You don’t go anywhere besides class or your house though, so you still get participation points,” Sasha grins, shaking your shoulders, “how are you feeling?”

“Well…”

Sasha’s expression crumples. “Still that bad, huh?”

“The Luke thing was pathetic of me, but honestly, it’s not haunting me as much as I thought it would,” you admit, pausing for a moment to allow Sasha to grab her coffee from the barista when her name is called, “the one thing that’s really sticking with me is the Eren issue.”

“Like, the voicemail? Or Breeze?”

“Both. I would give anything to know what that voicemail said, but whatever was going on between us aside, I just hope he’s okay, y’know? With Breeze back in the picture and everything.”

Sasha bites into her bottom lip and glances around the coffee shop, checking every face at every table. You know that face; she’s hiding something.

“What?”

“What?” Sasha cocks her head innocently. You nearly smack her.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“Uh…okay, yeah, I’m not, but I’m not sure if I should. I mean, you’re actually out of the house–”

“I leave my house plenty!”

“You know what I mean,” Sasha scoffs, “it’s just…if you’re feeling better, I don’t want to throw you back into the deep end.”

You have no words for that, absolutely despising the way that she is completely correct. Whatever information lies behind Sasha’s bitten lip could either make you feel a hundred times better or a hundred times worse, and you’re stuck debating on whether you should gamble or not when Sasha makes the decision for you.

 “Fine, you wore me down,” she sighs.

“I didn’t even say anything,” you point out, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to,” Sasha says, annoyed, “you have this, like, fucking puppy dog look. Makes me sick. Get your coffee, I’ll find a table, and we can talk.”

Like clockwork, the moment Sasha steps away, Pieck grabs your attention and hands your coffee over along with an extra hot cup half-full of steamed almond milk. You look at her questioningly, and she merely shrugs.

“That’s a lot of espresso. I know you’re in, like, your depressed writer phase right now, but I figured a little extra milk would come in handy.”

“You’re the best,” you smile at her affectionately, thinking absentmindedly that you should invite her out to Scout’s sometime. Before she can respond, Pieck’s gaze lands on something just over your shoulder. You can smell him even before you turn around, musky cologne and a little hint of weed. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Hey Pieck. Usual?” His throaty timbre cuts through the thick air, sharp as a knife. Pieck nods politely and gets to work on his coffee, forgoing a trip to the cash register. That tracks; Pieck’s hooded eyes are bloodshot more often than not.

“Excuse me,” you mutter, trying to sneak around him, but Eren’s quicker than you, side-stepping to cut you off.

“Hey stranger,” he smiles down at you, but it’s tense, nervous, “trying to run off on me?”

“Didn’t even realize that was you, sorry,” you lie, offering him a thin smile in return. You spot Sasha gaping at you across the cafe, waving her arms wildly and mouthing What the fuck?. You can’t help but feel similarly.

“It’s been awhile, how are you?”

“M’fine, just really busy with school.” God, you hate this, this awkward small talk barely parsing its way through the jungle of things left unsaid between you two. “You?”

“Fine,” Eren looks around awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Good,” you speak directly into your coffee, unable to stomach the emerald green peering down at you.

“You know,” Eren’s words come out quite like he can’t believe he’s saying them, “I kinda thought you were avoiding me.”

“Did you?” Your voice is caught in your throat, coming out in a pathetic squeak. Has he heard the voicemail? The startling turn the conversation’s taken must be visible all over your face, because Sasha’s flailing arms beckoning you over to the table grow more urgent.

“You haven’t texted me back, haven’t seen you in a couple weeks,” Eren’s incredibly focused on his shoes, kicking one Vans sneaker idly back and forth on the floor and making a squeaking sound, “so yeah, sort of.”

“I’m busy,” you deadpan, praying to any god you can remember the name of that you’ll just disintegrate right where you stand. Eren meets your eyes again, smirks disbelievingly.

“You said that.”

Something in his tone annoys you, something about his insinuation that he knows you’re blatantly lying, that he’s teasing you over your embarrassment, ignites a little flame in your chest. You scowl at him.

“I mean, you must be pretty busy too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Breeze just got back into town, didn’t she?” No going back now. Eren’s face blanches for a moment, features growing pale, but he manages to school his face back into that nonchalant pout that you want to slap right off his face.

“Historia told you?” He doesn’t sound surprised; in face, he sounds almost expectant, like he knew you’d find out at some point. It stakes the embers burning in your chest.

“She’s my best friend, so yeah.” This feels like an argument. It shouldn’t be an argument, but your clipped tone is pushing it in that direction. You’ve spent the last two weeks reminding yourself that you have no claim on Eren, no reason to be hurt or upset, but here you are, feeling that familiar rush of anger coursing through your veins.

“I mean, we haven’t been hanging out or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Who said I was worried?”

Eren’s eyebrows knit together, a little frown playing at his mouth. “I don’t know, I mean–”

“Look, Sasha’s waiting for me,” you point over Eren’s shoulder to the little two-top table, where Sasha has stilled within the blink of an eye, shooting Eren an innocent smile and a little wave. “I’d love to catch up, but maybe another time.”

“It was good seeing you.” Eren looks confused, albeit, a little bit hurt, and you hate it. Why is that so much worse, even worse than the sight of him with Breeze hanging off of his arm? His little pout puts a needle through your ballooning anger, and you deflate, sighing.

“I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Eren takes his coffee from Pieck and ambles towards the door, sparing you one last glance over his shoulder. Unwilling to hold his eyes any longer, you scurry to your table, just having realized that Pieck forgot to put a coffee sleeve around your cup and that it’s been burning your hand for the last several minutes.

“Ow! Shit!” You practically crash land across from Sasha, dropping your cups in synchronicity and shaking your red palms around in the air to cool them down.

“What was that?” Sasha hisses, leaning across the table so viciously that your drinks nearly topple over.

“He just showed up!”

“You didn’t have to talk to him.”

“I didn’t try to. He just, like, materialized behind me and started talking. What was I supposed to do? Run away?”

“Little shit,” Sasha swears, glaring at the door as if her anger can shoot through it like a laser beam, cut Eren down where he’s surely almost a block down the street by now, “what did he say?”

“He asked if I’ve been avoiding him," you say, twirling your wooden coffee stirrer through your drink idly and trying to look as if your heart’s not still beating at what’s sure to be a dangerous rate.

“Well, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He got all smug about it,” you scoff, the replayed scene of Eren’s self-assured smirk wiping off of his face bringing you a little bit of petty satisfaction, “until I brought up Breeze.”

Sasha’s eyes grow wide, and she looks around the coffee shop again, as if Eren or Breeze might come popping out of one of the large potted plants in the corners. “That’s actually what I wanted to tell you. What did he say about it?”

“What did you hear?” You narrow your eyes at her, and she narrows hers back.

“You first.”

“He didn’t say much, just looked really surprised that I brought her up. Said they haven’t been hanging out.”

“That’s bullshit,” Sasha snorts, rolling her eyes. Something in your chest that had begun to glimmer, something akin to hope, feels like it just got a bucket of ice-water poured over it. You cock your head, furrow your brows.

“How would you know?”

“Because Hitch and I grabbed some coffee–”

“Hitch? I thought that was a–”

“Okay, don’t crucify me, I know,” Sasha holds her hands up defensively, “it was supposed to be a one night stand, but…I don’t know. She’s cool.”

“Cool?” Even through your desperation for anything Eren-related after a two week drought, you smile knowingly at her. Sasha’s not hard to read, especially when her face goes bright red from chin to forehead.

“Yes,” she hisses, “cool. Anyway, we came by a few days ago, and Eren was here. With Breeze.”

“I mean, I expected as much.”

You’re lying, you’re so lying. The only consolation you’ve had over the last two weeks that you’re not a complete moron is the hope that maybe, just maybe, Eren’s just as forlorn as you, laying around and wishing his phone would buzz with your name on it, wishing you’d pop up at his door with a bag of popcorn ready for movie night. Instead, your worst suspicions have been confirmed, and not only is Eren very much involved with Breeze again, but he had lied straight to your face about it. Ouch.

“They weren’t like, holding hands or anything. Honestly, it looked like they were fighting.”

“Well, what did Hitch say about it?” You don’t even know if you want to know, but with your brain short-circuiting inside your skull, your mouth has free reign to seek out information that will be about as soothing as lemon juice on a papercut.

“Eren won’t talk to any of them about her,” Sasha burns her tongue on her coffee and sucks in a sharp breath, “not even Armin, apparently. She said he’s been moody lately.”

“Wonder why,” you mumble, mulling all of this new information over in your head. Breeze is bad for him, makes him crazy, you already know that. But you didn’t think it would start this soon– you feel like if anything, he should be ecstatic that his long-lost love has finally come back to him. And he can stop trying to replace her, your brain adds helpfully, only doubling the watery ache swelling in your chest.

“Who cares?” Sasha rips open a granola bar, biting into it and continuing to speak with her mouth full. “That’s why you’ve got to stop avoiding him.”

“Huh? That seems like the opposite–”

“No,” Sasha cuts you off, an air of authority in her normally chipper voice, “you’re not going to cower in the corner just because Eren’s back with his shitty ex girlfriend–”

“It’s not just because of Breeze,” you correct her, “it’s because of that voicemail. I have no idea what I said. There’s a lot that’s contributing to my self-induced isolation, trust me.”

“Regardless,” Sasha mouths around another bite of her granola bar, “the only thing that will make you feel better is being around him.”

“That sounds a little contradictory–”

“Trust me,” Sasha interrupts you again, “the best way to make a guy come around is to be up in his face, flaunting how hot and single you are, and to not give him an ounce of your attention. It’s a tried and true method, I promise.”

It turns out that you are a beacon for those with bad ideas, evidently, because later that night, you’ve ended up at Scout’s, cuddled up against the bar with Sasha despite Historia’s fervent protests. If Historia shows up later, just to “check in” (read: see what’s come of Sasha’s terrible plan), you won’t be surprised. She’s prone to being the mom friend and the harbinger of gossip, but she hasn’t shown face quite yet. It’s just you, Sasha, and a handful of regulars, sipping unreasonably cold beers and trying to act as if the early December chill hasn’t rattled you to your bones.

“This is a stupid idea,” you murmur against the lip of your bottle, trying not to seem as unnerved as you are, even after an hour of waiting and sipping. Sasha scoffs beside you, picking through your near-empty basket of peanut shells in search of a full pod.

“It’s not. He’ll be here.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you dragged me out. It only took a week for me to start missing this place,” you run a thoughtful hand along the varnished wooden bartop, “but I’m just still not sure about this whole seeing-Eren-on-purpose thing.”

Before Sasha can answer, the door swings open to reveal the man in question: Eren, accompanied by Armin and Connie, as always, and sporting his standard uniform. Black hoodie, slouchy khaki pants that are tightened around the ankles, and his beat-up Vans.

You nearly sigh into your drink at how delicious he looks, only stopping when the little voice in your head reminds you that the voicemail you’d left him exists. Friends– no, strangers now? The concept of labeling your bizarre, gray-areas-only relationship with Eren brings a chuckle up your throat, one that spills onto the bar.

You can feel him watching you, but to your simultaneous surprise and disappointment, he gives you space, sidling up to the bar a few seats down from where you and Sasha are occupying a couple of bar stools. When Connie throws up a cheerful hand in greeting to you, you tentatively wave back, only for Armin to grab Connie’s attention and turn him toward the bar.

“Ha!” Sasha says triumphantly, looking at you with her eyes glowing like you’re supposed to have reached a revelation of some sort. “See?”

“Did you plot this with Connie?” You narrow your eyes in suspicion.

“No, I’m just a genius, that’s all.”

“I feel like your theory is being proven wrong, not right. He’s not even sitting near us.”

“Because you have the upper hand!” Sasha grins.

“The upper hand?”

“Yeah, he’s giving you some space so you can make the first move, get what you want out of him.”

“And what do I want out of him?” You nearly growl in your frustration, feeling silly sitting exactly four barstools down from Eren with him running through your mind as if he isn’t close enough to just hop up and hug. It’s a genuine question more than a rhetorical one; you’re not even sure what you expect out of him anymore. Another fuck? A fancy date night? A lifetime worth of radio silence, as if Eren isn’t the person you’ve connected better with than nearly anyone else in your romantic history?

Sasha’s brows furrow. “Don’t you know?”

“No! That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

“Oh,” Sasha frowns, rubs her chin, “we should have figured that part out before we came, I guess.”

“Sasha!” You whisper-hiss, ever mindful of what you’re sure to be prying ears only a few feet away. “So you have no plan?”

Sasha stumbles, stutters, and eventually, flushes bright red with a shrug. “Okay, fine, I have no plan. But at least it’s something to break up your routine of laying in bed eating chips and moping around the library.”

“You’re such a bitch.” You roll your eyes, but you don’t mean it, not really. Regardless of how things stand, at the very least you can sneak little glances at Eren, take in how good he looks– no, you correct yourself firmly. You hopped off that train of your own accord, and you’re better for it.

With some verbal manhandling, you goad Sasha into a lull of small talk, classes, anything that comes to mind. A pair of eyes finds you, not the emerald that keeps you up at night, but a pair of hazel old-and-new eyes draw to you, and you can feel the scratch of an unwelcome gaze on your skin.

“Floch’s here,” you state the obvious, sipping your drink and giving no physical indication that you’ve noticed him, staring straight ahead as you mutter to Sasha.

“Christ, this was not a good idea,” Sasha groans, face-palming.

“Wow, I sure wish that someone had suggested this was a bad idea, wouldn’t that have been nice?”

“Shut up,” Sasha says, peeking warily over her shoulder, “I think that’s Hitch in the corner, too.”

You frown, confused at the hunched, anxious change in her posture. “Why are you being weird? Go say hey.”

“I’m not abandoning you!”

“Oh, shut it. Why are you really being weird?”

“I, uh…” Sasha twirls her beer around on the counter, blushing, “I haven’t texted her back in like, four or five days.”

“Sasha! You like her, I can tell. What’s gotten into you?”

“It was supposed to be a one-night thing,” Sasha moans, letting her face fall dramatically into her hands, “and then it was movie nights and coffee and just…way beyond casual hooking up. I like her, but…I don’t know! I panicked.”

You chew on her admission for a second, selfishly comparing Sasha’s situation to your own. Was that what you were doing with Eren? No, surely not, but was that what he was doing with you? You knew he had loved Breeze, that she had wrecked him, but maybe…just maybe some small part of you wants to hope that he’s moved on, that the coffee shop sighting was a fluke.

You shoo Sasha in Hitch’s direction, demanding she run over to apologize and make nice with Hitch, partially to save Sasha’s first shot at a real relationship in years and partially because you want to stew alone with your thoughts. Before you can get too deep into your black hole of what ifs, a familiar presence is sliding into Sasha’s seat, grinning lewdly.

You sigh; it was only a matter of time before he sought you out.

“What do you want, Forster?”

“Last name only? Ouch,” Floch places a hand over his heart, drumming the fingers of his other hand on the countertop. You recognize his demeanor immediately: pupils blown wide, buzzing to the brim with nervous energy. Floch’s always dabbled in party drugs, part of why you could only stand to be around him in small doses back when you were hooking up.

“Are you coked out right now?” Mindful of Levi’s hovering presence behind the bar, you keep your voice to a low hiss.

“So you can’t call me by my first name, but you can ask such personal questions? Jesus, you really are full of it, aren’t you?”

“Floch,” you nearly groan in frustration, “I thought I made it perfectly clear the last time I saw you that I’m not interested.”

“Why are you being so mean to me, hm?” Floch snakes a hand around your shoulders, jostling you until your face is mere inches from his. You’re more than aware of a pair of green eyes nearly boring a hole in your forehead, and you feel a pang of regret that you sent Sasha away so quickly, remembering far too late that Hitch’s table doesn’t offer a great view of where you’re seated at the bar.

“I’m not being mean,” you try to push at him, but he’s locked around you, “I’m just not interested.”

“Stop being such a bitch, Jesus Christ,” Floch finally lets you shove him away from you, but he’s far from done, “when did you get so stuck up, huh?”

“Floch. Keep your voice down, and walk away.” You try to warn him; Floch may be a pain in your ass, but you’d like to believe that he’s not a bad guy, deep down. You’re too late, however. 

Eren’s materialized between you and Floch before you can blink, before you can even get another word out. His sudden presence forces you out of your barstool, stepping around him to get a better read on what the hell he thinks he’s doing. Eren seems not to notice you trying to insert yourself between him and Floch, and the look on his face makes you step back momentarily.

He looks terrifying. Eren’s nostrils are flaring, eyes blown wide and jaw clenched tight. He’s taking full advantage of his height, glaring down at Floch with such menace that if looks could kill, Floch would already be laid out on the floor.

“Get the fuck out of here, dude. She said no.”

“What are you, her little guard dog?” Floch, infamous for never knowing what’s best for him, scoffs at Eren’s incredibly intimidating posture.

“Maybe I am,” Eren sneers, “I’m damn sure not going to sit there and let you speak to her like that.”

“Who’s this loser?” Connie’s to your right now, gesturing to Floch. You don’t miss the telltale clenching of Eren’s hands by his side, and it hits your dizzied mind what’s going on. Eren’s going to end up swinging if you don’t interfere, and Connie’s there for backup. 

“Floch, please.” You reach a feeble hand up to Floch’s chest, trying to gently push him in the other direction.

In the blink of an eye, Floch’s grabbing you by the wrist hard enough to solicit a yelp from your lips, throwing your arm away from him with a look of disgust.

“Oh, so now you want to touch me, bitch?”

No sooner has Floch’s hand released your arm than Connie’s got his arms wrapped around you, yanking you out of the crossfire. Amidst a series of gasps, Eren grabs Floch around the back of the neck, pins him face-first to the bar. 

“Jaeger!” Levi barks sharply, darting over to the scene of the commotion.

“Is that what gets you off, huh?” Eren’s nearly nose-to-nose with Floch, whose busted lip is twisted in a grimace and dribbling little bits of blood onto the varnished bartop. “Calling women bitches when they don’t want your little dick?”

“Let him go, Eren,” Armin tries to intervene, having already dashed over from his barstool. You want to back him up, but you’re frozen where you’re pinned to Connie’s chest, trembling in his arms. You know Eren’s a little rough-and-tumble, but this, seeing it in real life, is much more terrifying than you could have imagined.

“What the hell? Are you okay?” You can hear Sasha’s voice from beside you, close enough to touch but distant in comparison to where your vision is zeroed in on Eren’s grip on the back of Floch’s neck.

“Answer me!” Eren rears Floch back a few inches and slams him against the bar again. Floch curses under his breath, wriggles fruitlessly under Eren’s weight.

“Get the fuck off me, Jaeger!”

“You fucking wish,” Eren hisses, tightening his grip further, “now apologize to my girl before you make me do something I’ll regret.”

“Eren,” you find your voice again, shaking out of Connie’s grip. You fist your hands into Eren’s hoodie sleeves, tugging hard enough to get his attention. “He’s not worth it. Let him go.”

“Listen to her, Jaeger,” Levi’s already-deep voice is stained with warning.

When you pull at his sleeve a little harder, Eren turns to you, eyes still blown wide and teeth bared. It startles you, but you hold firm, setting your own jaw and shaking your head.

“Let. Him. Go. Now, Eren.” You’re not sure how you’ve managed to muster up the conviction in your voice, but you’re grateful for it, as it seems to shake Eren back into himself. Eren slowly releases Floch and in the same easy motion, he guides you behind him with one long, strong arm.

“You,” Levi points accusingly at Floch, “out.”

Floch’s jaw drops. “I didn’t even–”

“Out.” Levi’s tone leaves no room for argument, and Floch seems to understand at least that. He turns his glare back to you and Eren, scowling deeply.

“The next time I see you, Jaeger, it’s fucking over.”

“Get lost before you make me fucking embarrass you,” Eren says, voice dripping with venom. Floch shakes his head, lets his gaze land on you. A chilling smile breaks over his features.

“Next time, sweetheart.”

“Get the fuck out of here already, bro,” Connie snaps, pointing towards the exit. Floch takes his leave, sauntering towards the door with all the confidence of someone who hadn’t just been pinned against the countertop. A heavy, staticky silence falls over the bar.

“If I see you fighting in here again, it’s over.” Levi’s cold eyes fall on Eren, who nods curtly in understanding. Eren brushes his hands through his hair, rests a hand on the bun at the back of his head. Something strange is coursing through your body; something that tastes like anger, burns like heartbreak, falls bitter on your tongue like envy.

“Are you okay?” Sasha appears at your side again, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Floch’s such a psycho, I’m not even surprised he picked a fight.”

You nod numbly, eyes never leaving Eren. He finally looks back down at you, none of the heat having left his eyes.

“What the fuck was that?” It takes you a moment to realize that it’s you speaking, you throwing those words up the inches from your mouth to Eren’s. Eren’s face contorts into a frown.

“What do you mean? He was bothering you, wasn’t he?”

“So you try to fight him?” You seethe. Maybe it is anger, this bizarre, foreign emotion tingling at the tips of your fingers. No, that’s not quite it, you’re not angry you’re just…confused. Hurt that Eren’s frolicking around with Breeze, doing whatever he pleases, and yet, he’s jumping into bar fights to save you from the tangible evidence of your past.

“What do you expect me to do when someone talks to you like that?” Eren hisses back, eyes narrowed.

Sasha’s backed away from the two of you now; you’re aware of your friends staring at you, noses scrunched as they try to figure out exactly what’s happening now. You wish you had an answer to give them, but all you can muster is this heartache shooting out of your mouth in the form of daggers.

“I don’t need you,” you spit, “I don’t need your protection.”

“It didn’t exactly look like you had that handled,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and what are you? My knight in shining fucking armor? Don’t you have other damsels in distress waiting for you?” It’s too far, you know that as soon as the words leave your mouth, but the liquid courage Sasha had insisted upon is making your tongue sharper than you’d anticipated.

Eren rears back from where he’s hunched to meet you on your level, nostrils flaring again. Before you can utter another word, he’s got an arm thrown around your shoulders none-too-gently, practically dragging your stumbling feet towards the exit.

“Outside.”

[daisynik7]

Double the Fun

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader x Reiner Braun

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~3.9k

cw: next-door neighbors Eren and Reiner, modern day au, all characters are mid-twenties, explicit language, p*rn no plot, smut – threesome, vaginal sex, anal sex, anal play, spit play, nipple play, cunnilingus, face-riding, blowjob, hand job (M/M), double-penetration, multiple orgasms from the reader, sex toy use (anal plug), cream pies (in both holes), Reiner is a bit of a perv and sniffs panties (just like how he sniffed Historia’s letter in the finale LOL), pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweetie), slight degradation (use of slut, cock slut, whore, and cock sleeve to address the reader), slight breeding kink, sex without a condom (assuming reader is on some form of birth control)

Summary: You’ve been having a bit of a dry spell recently with how busy you’ve been at work. When you finally manage to snag a date with one of your online dating matches, you’re unfortunately stood up, leaving you in a worse mood than before. Lucky for you, your two hot neighbors are more than willing to cheer you up.  

Author’s Notes: Phew! This one is a doozy! Please make sure you read the content warnings before reading. This is filthy and shameless; I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I LOVE Eren and Reiner together, idk, they just always scratch this everlasting itch I have. I’m still getting used to writing threesomes, so I hope this is okay! Also, this is my first foray into butt stuff and I may have awoken something inside me, LOL. MDNI divider by the loveliest @/cafekitsune. Thank you for reading! 

Taglist: @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @man-knees @slvt-for-smut @antique-remains @aiyaaayei

part 4 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

“Are you sure you don’t want me to sit, like, two tables away? What if this guy is sketch?” 

You can spot the obvious concern in Pieck’s voice through the speaker of your phone, which is currently face-up on top of your vanity as you get ready. You finish the last steps of your makeup, inspecting yourself in the mirror, satisfied. “Don’t worry, I’ve got pepper spray in my purse in case he tries anything funny,” you assure your best friend. It’s been a while since you last went on a proper date. Pieck’s always been a worry-wart about you meeting strangers from your online dating apps, constantly reminding you to stay vigilant. Tonight is no different. 

“You should at least let your hot neighbors know that you’re going out, so they can keep an eye out for you,” she suggests, throwing that in casually. Ever since you moved in a few months ago, she’s been rooting for you to hook up with either of the two men next door, Eren Jaeger and Reiner Braun. She’s met them plenty of times in passing and would much rather you date one of them instead of the countless of mysterious men on your current roster. 

There’s no denying that they’re attractive. Eren with his long, dark hair, striking eyes, and toned physique. Reiner with his sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and well-groomed goatee. They also happen to be incredibly friendly towards you, always greeting you in the hallway with a genuine smile, asking how your day went or what you’ll be up to. They’ve invited you for dinner on several occasions, which has always been pleasant, sometimes leaning towards the flirtatious side. You’re sure they’re just nice guys, cordial neighbors looking out for one another. There’s nothing more to it than that, even if a small part of you wants there to be. 

You step back from your reflection, checking yourself out once one more. “I’ll be fine, Pieck.”

“What if I can’t reach you? There should be at least one other person who’s aware of your whereabouts, right?” This is what binging too many true crime documentaries does. Still, you’re grateful for your friend’s concern, knowing it’s all out of love. You can tell she’s actually distressed about this, so you end up agreeing, mostly to appease her. She wishes you well before hanging up as you slip into heels by the door. 

You tug at the hem of your skimpy black dress, hand motionless on the doorknob. It’s your first date in over a month. Work has been so busy that you haven’t had time for romance or sex. The variety of sex toys tucked away in your drawer has been your only solace these past few weeks. To say you’re ready for some real action is an understatement. You’re also incredibly nervous, afraid you’ve lost your groove. That’s why you’ve taken extra measures to fully prepare yourself for anything tonight. 

With a deep breathe, you step out into the hallway, following Pieck’s advice. You knock on your neighbor’s door and Eren is the first to answer. His expression brightens when he realizes it’s you. “Hi,” he greets you, flashing that charming smile of his. He scans you up and down, taking in your appearance. “Wow.”

“Is that a good wow or a bad wow?” you grin, twirling for him. 

He swallows hard, checking you out once more. “Definitely a good wow.”

It’s that extra boost of confidence you need for this date, so you’re appreciative of him. “Thank you, Eren. You’re always so sweet.” 

He crosses his arms over his chest, smirking. “So, hot date tonight?”

You decide to be honest with him. “Yeah. It’s been a minute, so I’m a little nervous.”

“Don’t be. Any guy would be lucky to date you.” His eyes twinkle at you kindly.

You imagine Pieck screaming at you from twenty miles away, begging you to date Eren instead of going out with this random swipe right. Eren is simply a sweet guy paying his neighbor a compliment. There’s nothing more to it than that. Before you get the chance to thank him, Reiner’s deeper voice calls out from inside the apartment. “Who is it?”

Without taking his eyes off you, Eren answers with your name. Soon, the blonde joins him, jaw dropping when he notices you. “Fuck.”

Eren elbows him in the chest, to which Reiner mutters a strained apology. “Sorry. You just look amazing.”

The flattery is almost too much, cheeks warm with embarrassment, stomach fluttering. “Thank you.” Reiner is usually the more forward of the two, blurting out whatever is on his mind, though you’re not complaining. 

Grinning, Reiner asks, “So, who’s the lucky guy?”

“Someone I met online. My friend said I should let my wonderful neighbors know my whereabouts tonight, in case I end up missing,” you explain casually. 

“How morbid,” Eren chuckles. “We’ll keep an eye out for you later so that your friend doesn’t have to worry.”

“I would appreciate that.”

Reiner raises a brow at you. “Unless you’re planning on sleeping with him. We probably won’t see you if it does go well.” He hunches forward when Eren lands another blow to his chest, shutting his roommate up. 

You giggle, agreeing with him. “No, you’re totally right. I’m going to stay optimistic and say that if I don’t come home tonight, that’s a good thing.”

“We’ll hope for the best, then,” Eren replies, beaming. 

You turn to leave, waving farewell to them. Reiner yells out, “Have fun tonight! But not too much fun!”

~~~

You return to your apartment complex less than two hours later, heels clicking loudly on the tiled steps, feet heavy with disappointment. After taking a twenty-minute taxi ride to the restaurant you agreed to meet him at, you proceeded to wait an entire hour only to realize that you’ve been stood up. No text, no reply, no call. You’ve been made a fool, completely humiliated, the night and the rest of your weekend absolutely ruined by this asshole’s no-show.  

It takes you a while to dig through your purse for your keys, patience already worn thin. Frustrated, you groan out loud, staring up at the ceiling. “Why me?”

In the worst timing ever, the door to your left swings open. Eren pops his head out, saying your name curiously.

Reluctantly, you turn to face him. “Hey.”  

He comes out, dressed casually in sweats, hair wrapped in a messy bun with the few stray strands draping the back of his neck. “That was quick.”

With an unconvincing smile, trying to hide the shame that currently consumes you, you admit, “I got stood up.”

His demeanor changes instantly. The concern on his face is endearing, and when he drifts towards you, he reaches out, then drops his arm, unsure how best to console you without crossing any lines. “No way.”

You nod, sighing. “It’s true.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He steps closer to you, hesitantly placing his hand on your shoulder, testing the waters. 

You smile at him, enjoying this simple touch of comfort. “It’s fine. It is what it is.”

The two of you linger like this, Eren gazing into your eyes, holding you. His palm is hot on the fabric of your dress, and for a split second, you wonder how pleasant it’d be on your bare skin. And maybe it’s your wishful thinking or your desperation for human contact after being rejected tonight, but you can feel the heat of a spark between you now. Before you let your fantasies drive you to do something unprecedented, you search your bag again, finally retrieving your keys. He lets you go, watching you shove them into the keyhole, unlocking the door. “Are you okay?”

In all honestly, you’re not, but there’s nothing him or anyone else can do about it, right? “I’ll be okay. Sucks that I got all dressed up for this, though. What a waste.”

He doesn’t respond right away, choosing his words carefully. “Well,” he starts, the faintest blush tinged on his cheeks. “It doesn’t have to be.” 

You stare at him, heart beating faster, making sure you’re understanding him correctly. “Really?”

He clears his throat, licking his lips. “Yeah. Maybe we can get some use out of it.”

“We?”

As if on cue, Reiner emerges from inside their apartment, having heard everything. “Fuck that shitty asshole. You’ll have way more fun with us.” He stands next to his roommate, grinning at you.

This time, you do listen to Pieck’s voice in your head, yelling at you to go for it. To let these two alluring neighbors of yours take care of you the way you deserve. Already feeling better, you give them a coy smile, opening the door to let them in. “Okay, then. Come on in.”

~~~

It’s the first time they’ve ever been inside your apartment, though you save the formal tour for later. As soon as the three of you are inside, door shut, shoes off, they’re both kissing you fiercely. Eren faces you, slipping his tongue into your mouth, hot and heavy. He caresses your sides, squeezing the curves of your body through your dress. Reiner is behind you, grip just below Eren’s, firm on your hips. His lips brush delicately on the nape of your neck, groin pressed to your backside, the bulge protruding from his pants growing harder and harder between your ass cheeks. You moan into the kiss, pussy throbbing in your lingerie, eager to be touched by either man, by both of them. Why did you even bother trying to hook up with strangers online when the perfect matches were beside you all along?

Reiner chuckles, breath hot on your ear, voice low and rugged. “You’re really horny, aren’t you? All dolled up and ready to be fucked, huh?” There he goes again, blunt and straightforward and so fucking sexy, exactly what you need tonight. 

And here is Eren, soft and gentle, committed to kissing you, whispering sweet nothings any chance he gets. “You’re beautiful. Such a gorgeous girl. So pretty for us.” Also exactly what you need. 

You lead them into your bedroom, Eren flipping on the light switch, keeping his lips on you while Reiner strips out of his clothes, starting with his pants. Eren does the same, hoisting his shirt off, revealing his impressive figure. You attempt to slip out of your dress, but Reiner stops you. “Keep it on,” he rasps, down to his underwear now, boner more obvious, poking out from his briefs.  

Eren pinches your butt, snapping the tight fabric to your skin. “We’re not letting this go to waste, remember?”

You nod mindlessly, brain hazy with lust, too eager to be fucked. “Fuck me,” you beg, spit smeared all over your lips. 

They both laugh softly, walking you towards the bed. “So impatient, so needy,” Eren coos, positioning himself in front of you, toying with the hem of the skirt.

Reiner sits up against the headboard, propping you up on his lap, your back pressed to his muscular chest. “What’s the rush, baby?” he teases, licking a stripe behind your ear. “We’re going to take care of you. Right, Eren?”

Eren bites his lip as he works your dress up past your thighs until it’s bunched up at your hips, exposing your soaked thong on your wet cunt. “Oh fuck yeah,” he huffs, salivating. “Gonna make you feel so good. Make you come so fucking much.”

You spread your legs wider for him, a pathetic whine escaping your throat, more and more desperate by the second. He hooks his finger on the crotch of your panties, smirking at the string of arousal that stretches between the fabric and you. “So fucking wet, holy shit.” 

He tugs it all the way off your legs, tossing it over to Reiner, who brings it up to his nose, taking a big whiff. “Such a slut for wearing these on a first date. Our naughty girl.” He lets your lingerie fall from his grasp onto the floor, sliding to the plush of your thighs, keeping your legs spread apart. 

Eren dives in, spreading his wide tongue flat on your clit, moving it side-to-side, stimulating you into your first orgasm. Your knees twitch from the sensation, the pleasure rippling through you like waves of ecstasy. You turn your head towards Reiner’s, opening your mouth, pleading him for a kiss. He obliges, sticking his tongue inside you, slurping up your saliva, hungry for it. “You’re so fucking nasty,” he growls, reaching for the drawer beside the bed. “Bet you have toys hiding in here. Why don’t we have some more fun and play with them?” You whimper wantonly, keen on the idea of Reiner using whatever he wants on you to make you come again. 

He finds exactly what he’s looking for: your precious anal plug, tapered on one end, heart-shaped gem on the other. When he pulls it out, he barks out a laugh, almost like he can’t believe his luck. “You really are a whore,” he whispers in your ear, sinister and wicked, about to have too much fun with this. “Did you prep yourself to be fucked in the ass? Be honest.” Even Eren pauses, peering up at you, curious. 

“Yes,” you mewl, squirming with arousal, body tingling all over.

Eren’s chuckle reverberates against your clit, releasing you from his mouth to lap at your wet slit. “Good girl,” he muffles, collecting your cum on his tongue. “So perfect for us.”

The dynamic between them spurs you on, Eren playing the good guy, Reiner playing bad. Both of them work together with a common goal in mind: to cheer up their pretty neighbor from what would have been a bummer of a night. But already, you’re thankful that you were stood up; you’re certain now that this is the much better alternative. 

“Eren, switch spots with me,” Reiner demands. “And you,” he says, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “On your stomach.”

You both obey him without protest. Eren leans against the headboard with a dazed look in his eyes, licking his shiny, cum-coated lips. He smiles as you gaze up at him, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, stroking him. You open wide, tapping the tip of his dick on your tongue before sinking down on him until you’re too the hilt, swallowing him into the back of your throat. He cups yours cheeks, caressing you gently. “So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth. My gorgeous girl.” You accept the praise shamelessly, relishing the distinct taste of him.

From behind, Reiner worships you, squeezing your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to ogle at your fluttering hole. Without warning, he hocks a frothy wad of spit directly onto it, teasing his thumb on the rim. “Fuck, baby,” he utters as you moan on Eren’s cock. “I’m gonna put it in now, okay?”

You nod, taking Eren deeper, your nose pressed to his groin, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth, bracing yourself. The plug is slick with lube as Reiner pushes it in carefully until the heart-shaped jewel is flush to your hole. He swears under his breath, marveling at the sight before him, cock pulsating in his fist. You stay like this for a while, adjusting to the toy inside you. It really did help that you prepared for this earlier. 

“So sexy,” Eren murmurs from above you, staring on your backside. “You take it so good, sweetheart.”

“Like an obedient slut,” Reiner adds, using his thumb to push the plug the slightest bit deeper. He lifts your hips to position himself below you so that you’re straddling his face. “Can you come again, baby?”

“Of course she can. She’s our good girl,” Eren purrs, petting your head softly as you continue to blow him. 

Reiner eats you out sloppily, different from Eren, who’s intentional with his every move. It sends you into another frenzy, pushing you closer and closer over the edge, especially when he begins playing with the plug, pumping it in and out of you slowly. You’re overstimulated with Eren’s hot cock throbbing in your mouth, clit swollen on Reiner’s tongue, and asshole puckered around the smooth glass of the plug. You reach your climax easily, gushing all over Reiner’s face, riding out your orgasm until you’ve completely soaked him in your juices. He drinks it all up, messy and greedy for every drop of you he can scour. He really is as insatiable as you imagined he’d be. 

You release Eren to catch your breath, to which he tips your chin up to face him. “You’re incredible,” he says, the familiar twinkle in his eyes making your heart race. You paw at his chest, crawling up to meet him for a kiss. 

Reiner quickly joins the two of you, not wanting to be left out, rubbing his hard cock between your ass cheeks. You kiss the both of them at the same time, all of your saliva mingling together into a hot, wet mess that you’re currently intoxicated by. After a moment, Eren pulls back. “Does our pretty girl want to get fucked now?”

“Show us how big of a cock slut you are,” Reiner grunts, circling the jeweled end of the plug, teasing your hole. 

Eren helps remove the dress off you completely, hoisting it off your body. He stretches his arm towards the drawer. “Are the condoms in here too?”

You shake your head briskly, bringing his attention back to you. “I want it raw. Want you to fill me up.” 

They both moan, clearly fond of your request, kissing you feverishly. Eren nudges your breast into his mouth, latching onto your nipple. Reiner sucks the skin all along your neck, leaving his love marks, growling, “You want us to breed you, huh? Want all this cum inside these tight little holes of yours. Oh fuck.” His voice is rough and husky, gradually losing his composure. 

Eren’s remains tender, his breath soft on your bosom. “We’re going to breed you so good, sweetheart.” He shimmies down the bed, lying flat on his back, peering up at you with adoration. You straddle him, rubbing yourself on his shaft, needy for friction on your aching clit.

Reiner’s embraces you from behind, groping your chest, focusing on his roommate’s dick and your wet cunt gliding along it. He reaches between you and Eren, fisting his friend’s cock with fast strokes. “Look how hard he is for you. He’s going to fuck you so good. Make you cream all over the sheets.” Your pussy is sopping with arousal from the dirty talk alone, but watching Reiner touch Eren has you dizzy. 

“Fuck, Reiner,” Eren moans, throat bobbing as he swallows hard. “That’s so fucking hot.” He lets his roommate jerk him off while you continue to grind yourself on him. Soon, he replaces Reiner’s fist with his own, cockhead glistening with precum. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

Reiner moves to your swollen bud, tapping it with his thick fingers. “Oh yeah, she’s fucking ready. Come on, cock sleeve. Put it in.”

Without wasting another second, you line yourself up with him. Eren slides in smoothly, his entire length in you, pussy stretched around him perfectly. You whimper from the fullness, his cock to the hilt and the plug nestled in your backside. Reiner places his hand on your posterior, urging you to lean down so that your chest-to-chest with Eren, who kisses you passionately, remaining still inside you. “Eren,” you whimper his name, drooling into his mouth. He smiles against you, delighted at how fucked out you are for him.

Reiner adjusts his stance, hovering over you by planting one foot on the bed to prop his knee up, giving him enough leverage. He focuses on the plug, tugging it out just barely only to push it back in, repeating this several times, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Finally, he removes it completely, staring wide-eyed at your gaping hole, oh-so-inviting for his fat cock. “Look at that,” he croons, circling your rim with his finger, sensitive to his touch.

You want so badly to be stuffed full by both of them. In a trembling voice, you whine, “Please, Reiner.”

Laughing, he delivers a harsh smack to your ass, skin immediately stinging from it. He dribbles more of his spit onto you, teasing the tip of his dick on the rim. “Not yet, slut.” You can’t see him, too immersed in kissing Eren right now, but you can practically hear the wicked grin on his face, watching you squirm below him as he torments you.

Eren intervenes, annoyed with his friend’s behavior. “Come on, Reiner. Give her what she wants. She deserves it.” He nuzzles his nose to yours. “She’s been a very, very good girl.”

Eventually, Reiner relents. “You’re right. She’s a good girl. And good girls deserve to get fucked in both holes.” 

You shiver at his perverse words, bracing yourself. At last, he guides himself inside you, filling you to the brim. It’s better than any fantasy you could dream of, the sensation so intense, tears begin welling in your eyes.

They start thrusting simultaneously, Eren pummeling your cunt from below, Reiner pounding your ass from behind. It’s messy and raunchy, their hands slippery all over your body from lube, slick, and sweat. The air surrounding you is laden with lust and desire. The collective moans from all three of you echo off the walls of your small bedroom, along with the squeaks of your mattress creaking under the weight of your vigorous lovemaking. 

Reiner is rendered speechless now, totally concentrated on pumping his cock in and out of your fluttering hole, the only sound from his mouth being his ragged breaths. Eren slips one hand between you, his digits pressed to your puffy clit as he fucks up into your pussy. The other fondles your tit, thumb flicking your nipple until it’s perky. He continues to praise you, constantly musing about what a good girl you are, how perfect you are for them. 

At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come. You’re in a perpetual state of ecstasy, surrounded by the two hottest men in your life who are voracious for your orgasms. The sour memory from earlier has completely faded and all you can think about is the sweet bliss you’re currently indulging in. 

Eren is the first to come, no longer able to endure it. His even thrusts turn erratic. “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming inside you sweetheart, oh fuck.”

You kiss him languidly, drinking up his moans as he floods your cunt with his load. Soon, Reiner swears loudly, announcing his own climax. “Fuck, gonna breed this slutty hole.” His cock swells, spurting his warm seed inside you.

You relax on top of Eren, who’s equally as spent as you. Reiner pulls out slowly, fixated on his own cum dripping out of you. “Fuck. Let’s see the other one, baby.” You lift off Eren, who almost seems reluctant to let you go. Both of them watch with hazy expressions as his creamy load spills out of you and onto his lap. 

The room is musty with the scent of sex, the sheets messy and stained beneath you. Despite that, you’re on cloud nine, soaring high from having the nastiest ménage á trois with your next-door neighbors.

Maybe you should try getting stood up more often. 

[mochimooon]

DTF Only - aot x reader 18+ masterpost and prologue - complete!

Summary: Barely twenty-four hours after getting dumped by your now ex-boyfriend, Colt, your best friends are quick to conspire your next course of action: slutting yourself out on Tinder.  Prologue word count: 1k+ Notes: Welcome to the world of online dating, featuring the men of AoT !! This was a project I started back in September, loosely based on my own (and my best friend's) weird encounters with online dating. Lighthearted, smutty, not to be taken seriously, this fic is pure crack. Although it does have a plot, it's not necessary to read every chapter if you just want to skip to your favorite AoT guy (each chapter is linked). Also, all characters (except two) are written to be in their early 30s. Lastly, the headers used don't directly depict what actually happens in the fics. Afab! reader using she/her pronouns Warnings: smut in every chapter (except prologue), explicit content, explicit language, lots of casual sex (more warnings included per chapter), mild Colt-bashing available to read on ao3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ !!

Happy Hour — Porco Galliard Out of Towner — Reiner Braun Let's Experiment — Connie Springer Girl Dinner — Jean Kirstein DTF — Zeke Jaeger Tinder Whore — Eren Jaeger Super Like — Levi Ackerman taglist: @moonmalice @daisynik7 @theragethatisdesire @squidalapobre @arlerts-angel @shepnicolo @porples-blog @jeanboyjean @fictional-d-supremacy

“Time to enter the hoe phase.”

Pieck’s eyes light up in Ymir’s direction, and together they turn to you with mischievous grins. 

Barely twenty-four hours after getting dumped by your now ex-boyfriend, Colt, your best friends are quick to conspire your next course of action: slutting yourself out on Tinder. 

It feels like a movie. Meeting up with your girlfriends on a Saturday night for overpriced margaritas (on them thankfully) to catch up and console you as you process the breakup. 

The only difference between you and those heartbroken women on screen is that you don’t know how to feel. You’re not sad, you’re not happy, you’re indifferent. 

Three years together you and Colt had settled into a routine. He lived an hour away, but you both put in the effort to see each other. You don’t know when things turned stagnant, only that the spark had fizzled a long time ago. The phone calls and visits became forced, and the sex…

“You’re single now,” Ymir explains, crunching on a tortilla chip. “Got to make up for lost time. Didn’t you say Colt was too stiff in bed?”

Heat blazes beneath your skin. “I never said that.” 

Colt was not stiff in bed. He was selfless, ready to please, prioritizing your needs first before he got in his kicks. You liked having sex with him, didn’t need the grandeur to enjoy it—

Ymir and Pieck deadpan in your direction. Without further rebuttal, you fall speechless, and to your friends that’s as good as a confession.

You hate them (you don’t). You hate that they’re right.

Although the sex did the job, it lacked the passion that was once there when you two first started dating a lifetime ago. Eventually you grew a little bored. It became repetitive, lackluster even, that you were only half-satisfied by the end of each session. To feed your sexual appetite, you resorted to your vibrator more and more, a toy that you had initially purchased for you and Colt to use together.

“Anyways…” Ymir drawls. “He’s history and so is the vanilla sex. Now, you can let your inner sex fiend out.”

You roll your eyes “You mistake me for someone else.”

Ymir snorts, leveling you with a knowing look. “Yeah right. You weren’t a Puritan before you met Colt. If online dating was more of a thing back in our twenties, you would have been kicking and slipping every night of the week, more than you already were.”

Your skin heats up again, burning the tips of your ears. Sure, in your twenties, you were what some would call ‘floozy’ in nature back then. In your defense, you were a university student, out on your own, and you were definitely not the only person partaking in hookup culture. Now, at thirty, with how normalized it is, you know you’re not the last one either.  If anything, being in a relationship these days is more of an anomaly. 

“Not judging you for your relationship by the way,” Pieck says as a buffer. “Colt’s a nice guy, but he did water you down, you stopped coming out—”

You turn to her. “It’s because—”

“He’s a lightweight, yeah, yeah,” Ymir supplies, bored. “You were too much for him. You’re fun, and Colt?” Ymir’s dark eyes go into orbit. “—snooze.”

As much as you’d like to defend your ex-boyfriend’s honor, your mind draws a blank.

“His loss.” Pieck licks the rim of her margarita glass.

Ymir crunches on another chip, smiling wryly. “Back to my genius idea: Tinder. You’ll have so many options now. You don’t need to find your next boyfriend on it, just meet new people and be down to fuck only."

She says it so simply, but you can’t help feeling like there’s a catch. 

“There’s no better place to explore sexual freedom than on Tinder,” Pieck says. “Scope out the market, see what you’ve been missing out on.” 

You take a hearty sip of the margarita, lip curling. “I don’t even know how to date anymore.”

Pieck tuts. “No one does. There’s no formula either. Tinder requires an open mind, if you overthink it, then you’re not doing it right.”

“It’s about getting to know yourself better while also getting laid. It’s a win-win,” Ymir says. “There’s nothing for you to lose, only gain.”

You raise a brow. “Doesn’t that seem…wrong? We just broke up.”

Pieck blinks, lowering her margarita. “Do you think Colt’s just sulking around?” 

You shake your head. “No, that’s not what I mean. He can go on dates, I guess. It’s just that it feels so new and so soon.” 

As you hear yourself, you realize how unsure you sound. Since Colt dumped you, it’s pointless to expect that he’d waste any time before diving back into the dating pool. If that’s what he’s doing, you’re not bothered by it. And the guilt you expect to feel for considering an idea like online dating is nowhere to be seen either. 

Perhaps it’s your way of making sense of why you feel so…nonchalant about the whole thing. Is there a politically or morally correct way to behave after a break-up?

“Of course not!” Ymir says with a lighthearted scoff. “The second you become a free agent, you can do whatever and whoever you want. Emphasis on the ‘free’ part.”

She’s right, you suppose. 

Ymir takes your brief silence to further argue her idea. “The whole point is to have fun, no strings. If you’re not going to wallow, then get out there and be a hoodrat."

Pieck laughs, and you feel the mood lighten. 

It’s not a bad idea. You’re still not sure how to process the break-up. You’re not hurt, but you are in this limbo of where to go from here. Carry on like normal? Cry? Neither align with your state of mind. 

You’re not hard to convince, reaching for your phone and downloading the app. “Let’s see what’s up.”

A look passes between your friends that could only be described as impish. You bite back the urge to roll your eyes and set up your profile. 

After Pieck and Ymir guide you on what to add to your bio, what you’re looking for, help you pick out the best selfies etc., the true fun begins. 

In the beginning it’s awkward, reading and checking a person’s pictures and deem whether he you want to talk to them. But it doesn’t take long for you to ease into it.  

The coaxing and the margarita might have played roles, but after a few profiles, it becomes an addiction. 

Swiping one after another, skimming through varying profiles (a lot of them have their height included), questionable choices of selfies (many shirtless at the gym), it’s all a rush that the three of you had far too much fun crowding over your phone that night. 

“Why does he have a screenshot of his credit score?” Pieck balks. 

“No fucking way, that guy’s in a diaper?” Ymir’s eyes go wide.  “This one says he and his wife want to be a throuple.” You swipe left.   

At some point, you do swipe right on a couple of profiles, purely based on their looks, hardly giving their bios a proper onceover.

At the end of the night, you’re past the point of tipsy, tired, but pleased to have had a fun night with your best friends. As you doze off in bed that night, your phone lights up with several new notifications on your nightstand. 

[chrollohearttags]

and so it begins….EJ vs. Connie: part 1 who team you on?? ☠️☠️ (picture credit to @levisbaldheadedwh0re for the last tweet!!)

[sanjisboyfie]

eren first meeting his roommate

aka ; eren yeager having a gay awakening <3

-> might be a series? idk i love roommate eren a lot so probably will be a series LMFAO also also there's really no obvious romance here, it's just silent admiration and crushes

also eren is very much puppy-like and high energy in this one hashtag sorry if u love emo eren, he will NOT be emo here!!! hashtag no regrets.

eren yeager x male reader

— eren was dead broke. his ass definitely did not have enough money for either dorming on campus or off campus, but off campus was the cheaper option. and since he went to a college so far away from home, it would be too big of a hassle to commute. so him and his parents compromised by giving him an "allowance" every month, which would basically pay for a third of rent. but that meant he had to use his own money to pay the next third, then find someone else to pay the final third. ( 1/3 being paid by his parents, 1/3 being paid by him, 1/3 being paid by a lifesavior roommate, aka you!!!!!)

— it was very odd to see eren, who on first impressions seemed like an intimidating individual, sit you down at the empty kitchen table and beg you, literally beg you with his hands in praying form, to room with him. he was very, very obviously desperate to find someone else to live with.

"please, i will be good - i've heard from all my friends i'm a great person to live with, my mouth will vouch (he is a terrible person to live with, but if he has to do more household chores in order to get a roommate he will). i will let you speak to my own mother and father, they will vouch and say-"

"i believe you, eren, why are you crying?"

"PLEASE LIVE WITH ME!!!"

that's an exaggeration of what happened...he didn't actually start crying, but his begging was insistent and borderline pathetic.

— in the end, you agreed !!! paying 1/3 of rent was better than paying 1/2 + the place wasn't in a terrible location, it was close to school, and was a pretty good size for two bedrooms. since eren was already settled in, he helped you move in. and that was when you were given a free GUN SHOW because damn was this man working hard in lifting your many boxes of belongings. it was almost like he wore a tight shirt on purpose, just to show off. he very adamanently told you that you didn't need to hire movers and he'd do all the heavy lifting, along with muttering about how they were "scammers" with how much they charged.

"eren, i can lift some of these-"

"no, please, consider this my thanks for moving in with me," eren grunted, holding a huge box of your clothes with relative ease. he was sweating, but that was because this was probably the third box of heavy stuff he had to carry from the car to the building.

he was wearing a beige shirt that hugged his muscular form, emphasizing every single ripple underneath the fabric. and as you two stood in the elevator (thank god the building had an elevator or else eren would have had to carry all the boxes up three flights of stairs), the only sound in the metallic box was eren's heavy breathing.

his muscular chest (boobs) were moving up and down as he tried catching his breath, his hands lifting to wipe the sweat off of his forehead with the collar of his shirt.

your eyes watched each of his movements carefully before you snapped out of it with the dinging of the elevator to tell you you were on your floor. you got out of elevator first, holding your arm to the door to prevent it from closing on him.

he shot you a smile in thanks before proceeding to easily lift up the box (it was at least over 50 pounds, mind you) and walk ahead to the room.

what you didn't know was that eren's cheeks were burning red as he had felt your stare on him earlier and it made him feel shy. you didn't have to know that he was purposely flexing harder with each cardboard box he had to lift. it was his own subtly way of trying to impress you, anyway.

it was flustering to know that it was somewhat working.

— after all the boxes were situated inside of the small apartment, he went to put all of your utilities away, like your own set of utensils, plates that you bought to share, and a couple of mugs. meanwhile, you went to your room to personalize and unpack all of your clothing. as eren was occupied working in the kitche, he felt himself smiling to himself as he carefull put away any of your belongings in the shelves. he felt himself laughing at one of your comedic mugs, a ceramic figure that took the shape of a chubby cat. the tail of the animal curved into being the handle and a funny expression was painted onto the cat's face.

"what's so funny, yeager?" you challenged, stretching your hands above head, "you think my mugs are funny?"

eren laughed, putting it away intot he cupboard and turning to look at you, "i think they're cute, they're also fitting,"

you made a face of uncertainty, which only made eren's grin go wider, "alright, you'll see."

"i'll see what?"

"you'll see — when i get you your own mug, you'll learn to appreciate it more,"

"oh, god, please don't." eren said, leaning against the counter on his elbow and staring at you, who were sitting on the other side, "for your first night here, you want me to treat us to take out? the chinese place down the road is really good,"

he watched your expression carefully. wordlessly, you walked around the counter and to the fridge. once you opened it, it took you a total of three seconds before you looked back at eren with a grimace.

"the only thing in here is ketchup and mayo..."

"those are the condiments i use to eat my fast food with," eren shrugged, making you only become more flabbergasted. "what??"

"oh my god, let's finish unpacking later, we need to go buy groceries,"

"but you didn't answer my question on dinner?"

"i'll make dinner — you save more money buying groceries and making meals out of them instead of buying takeout everynight, eren," you lectured, making him tilt his head in thought. he supposed you were right, so he didn't argue against going grocery shopping.

as you announced you were just going to change quickly, he then thought about it for a second longer. then a blush fell on his face as he imagined you at the kitchen, cooking a meal for just him and you.

god, was he really developing a crush on his roommate that just moved in?

— the grocery shopping turned unserious very fast. bring eren to any public environment and he won't be able to stay on track for a second. you didn't really know eren that well (it sounds silly to say that considering you are now living with him, but prior to agreeing to be his roommate, he really was just a stranger to you), so to see his more childish side bleeding through his cold exterior was a good change of pace. he was a very goofy guy, making funny faces at babies with the intent of making them cry, and would easily get distracted. he had tried dragging you off to the pokemon card wall several times when all you needed were groceries.

"did you see the way its face scrunched up?" he grinned in excitement before focusing on mimicking the expression a baby he tormented made. you laughed at the face he was making before smacking his shoulders.

"be nicer! they're just babies, eren," you softly scolded, weak chuckles escaping from you.

"just babies that make funny faces," eren laughed, switching from standing at your left side to your right side repeatedly as you stood in front of the produce section, "what even are you going to make tonight?"

"hm, how about pasta? you like pasta?" eren nodded his head in affirmation, "i was just going to buy some staple fruits and vegetables too, though, in case we get hungry for snacks,"

"snacks? i can run to the chips section too then! what chips do you want?" eren said, very excited to go to his second favorite section of the store (the junk food aisles).

"just get me a bag of f/c," you requested politely, making him nod like an eager puppy and run off.

you finished going down the list of basic ingrediants for a white sauce pasta, while also grabbing anything that you could use for other dishes in the future.

just as you turned around to your now full cart of vegetables, sauces, fruits, and meat, eren came bounding back towards you. this time, he was now holding five bags of chips, in his mouth he was carrying a single packet of pokemon cards, and in his fingers he was desperately holding a lottery ticket.

"look! we can open up a pack of pokemon cards, i got you one too, it's in my pocket though, since i figured you wouldn't want my spit on it, and then i also have a lottery ticket. i have a feeling we will win it big! and if we do, we won't have to pay rent for like five months!"

"eren, what the fuck? i thought you were just getting chips,"

the accused man pouted at the tone you were taking with him, dropping his arms into the car to free them of the five bags of chips, "i was!! but look, i'll pay for the lottery ticket, chips, and pokemon cards! c'mon, it'll be fun to open the cards together and everything!"

he almost pouted at you, can you belive this guy? pouted at you with begging puppy dog eyes. you almost smooshed his face with the palm of your head, but restrained yourself.

"fine, let's just go and pay,"

eren grinned in achievement, pumping his fist into the air, "c'mon, i wanna open these on the ride home!" he said, referring to the pokemon cards.

"alright, alright, i don't know anything about them though, so you're just gonna have to tell me what's good or not,"

"if it's shiny and reflective, give it to me, that's all you need to know," eren said dismissively. he swiftly took your spot behind the cart, pushing it with ease and only allowing you to walk beside him. "what pasta are you cooking for tonight?"

"i bought alfredo sauce, so i'll just add in some vegetables and to the pasta and make...chicken alfredo? if that's alright with you," eren almost salivated at the thought. he simply nodded his head eagerly, the bangs around his face bouncing at the movement.

"sounds delicious! man, i really lucked out with you as my roomie, huh? we're gonna make a great pair!" he threw his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in closer as he said this, an innocent grin on his face.

— that night, the two of you sat on foldable chairs watching tv. eren's parents gave you two as a house warming gift. it was small, but it was working so that was all that mattered. eren and you laughed at the tv screen until the late hours, where you both agreed to finally call it a night.

"should i make breakfast tomorrow morning? or are you gonna be in clases by the time i get up?"

eren frowned, "i have classes all day tomorrow, from 8 in the morning to 7 at night, so you don't have to worry about making too many servings,"

you nodded in understanding, "alright, then, i'll see you when you get back then,"

eren and you were about to break off to your own rooms, but he called out to you one last time, "uhm, what time are you gonna be in classes?"

"i only have one class tomorrow, 1 to 3:15," his face brightened up, which instinctively made you smile at him in return.

"we can go get lunch together then," he offered, "there's a good place that has burgers, it's like a ten minute walk from the main campus. i have a break in between classes at 4? if that's okay with you, of course,"

you grinned so wide that it almost hurt your cheeks. eren was a really nice guy, he was going out of his way to just get to know you better and spend some time with you, "yeah, that sounds perfect. meet me at the bus stop that's right outside the main hall and we can walk together,"

"okay, yeah!" eren nodded his head repeatedly, the bangs on the side of his head once again moving at such rapid mvoement. "then, i'll text you tomorrow when i get out of class!"

"sure, that sounds good." there was a pause and you pivotted your torso to turn away from the smiling brunette, "good night, eren,"

the man blinked and nodded his head, also turning away, calling out a, "goodnight, [name]," very quickly.

and the two of you fell asleep with grins on both of your faces. eren had brought the blanket up to his face, as if he was paranoid that there were someone watching his blushing face only redden. your smile was really, really handsome, his heart felt like it was in his throat everytime he remembered it.

[pixelfun20]

Me, watching Tiktok light on fire trying to convince me that "You can only ever love one person!!!" in response to me saying that Mikasa can move on and marry and still love Eren:

[bloompompom]

Trending Now! Beloved, international pop sensation was spotted getting hot and heavy with the lead vocalist of Devil's Paradise, Eren Jaeger, at an after-party, sparking rumors of a secret fling. The unlikely couple has yet to comment publicly on the status of their relationship, but their scandal-worthy PDA alone implies they must know each other very well. 

Ha! That couldn’t be any further from the truth.

♡ pairings: rockstar!eren jaeger x popstar!female reader, eren jaeger x historia reiss ♡ content: ~7.1k word count. enemies-to-lovers, sexual themes, explicit language, alcohol, dubcon elements (drunken kissing), slut shaming. reader discretion advised. ♡ next chapter | series masterlist

★ Chapter One ★

You learn the hard way that what happens at the after-party doesn’t stay at the after-party.

Much to your dismay, the sun shone much brighter up on the twelfth floor. A beam hit the glass table just right, casting a near-blinding glare straight into your eyes. You’d think they’d try and tint the windows or something, at least.

If this morning wasn’t such a tizzy—if you hadn’t been rushed from your apartment without so much as a 'good morning'—perhaps you would’ve thought to grab your sunglasses. You could have really used them now, even in the middle of this meeting. But no, you were forced to decide between burning your retinas or facing the patronizing set of eyes opposite you.

You found the former was less torturous despite aggravating the pounding in your head.

You didn’t know the last time you had a hangover. It was worse than you remembered, but if there was ever a time to get plastered, you supposed last night’s after-party was it.

It was the Monday following a weekend-long music festival, one of the largest—no, the largest of the year. As Saturday’s headliner, the last few months of your life were rightfully grueling, bouncing from one rehearsal to the next. Finally, you could celebrate that your hard work had paid off and come to an end—hence, the after-party. 

Last night was well-deserved. It was a break from your meticulously and artificially crafted life. Where everything on-stage and off, even down to when you could pee, was choreographed. Your manager, Pieck, tried to convince you to stay in last night—said you needed the rest. But you blew her off. There was no chance in hell you were going to miss that party.

And that was exactly how you ended up here, hungover, swallowing the bitter taste pooling on the back of your tongue, awaiting your slap on the wrist for letting the tiniest bit loose. 

In hindsight, you should have listened to Pieck. Of course, you’d never admit that to her, considering she was the one who had dragged you from bed and plopped you right into the lion’s pit. 

Not long ago, you woke up to the midday sun. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know. It was warm behind your eyelids and gave your temples their own heartbeat.

You flopped around your bed in your best attempt at getting comfortable again. Only for a few more minutes, then the room started spinning. With palms pressed into the mattress, you threw your achy body out of bed. In just your underwear, you wore your duvet like a cape. You followed the trail of last night’s clothes and waddled like a sleepy toddler to your kitchen. 

The clock on your oven read 1:34 p.m. While it was surprising that no one had come to bother you yet, you were grateful, and you certainly didn't question it. 

Now, you were sure it was that exact thought that jinxed your day.

Not even an hour later, there was a pounding at your door. It was like someone wanted to beat the damn thing down. There was only one person who’d come knocking like that. 

What made it worse was that you had just dipped into the tub. You had even brought a bagel along with you. Plain and untoasted because you were too lazy to wait on it, but it was breakfast nonetheless.

You slid around on the porcelain. When you were out of the bath, fumbling with your robe, you nearly slipped on the tile, feet wet and pattering as you scampered to the door. The pounding continued. You swore your head was close to imploding. Or exploding—whichever was worse.

You swung the door open and found Pieck’s fist in the air, ready to strike again. She did not look happy.

If you were to be brutally honest, Pieck had a horrendous case of resting bitch face. It was okay for you to say that because it was something she’d say about herself. You only mentioned it now because the RBF was much more intense than usual.

She let herself inside. “Impromptu meeting. I need you ready in fifteen.”

“Can’t this wait?” You closed the door behind her. “I’m, like, violently hungover right now.”

“I thought you might be.”

You didn’t care for her tone. You hugged your robe to your chest as you asked, “What’s this about?”

She waved you off. “Just go get ready. You only have fourteen minutes now.” 

You were too groggy to argue. With your head hung like a sad puppy, you sauntered off to drain the hot, sudsy bath calling your name. You threw on a comfortable outfit—a matching set of shorts and a sweatshirt you’d wear to grab a coffee—and tried to make yourself slightly presentable. Pieck shouted for you to hurry while you were brushing your teeth. You yelled back at her as you rinsed and spat. Nothing out of the ordinary.

The car ride was awkward. Pieck sat in the back with you like always, but she was across from you rather than at your side. You couldn’t tear your eyes from her tapping foot as she asked you, “You seriously have no idea what this is about?”

“No, but you’re freaking me out,” you admitted.

If she was going to keep up the cryptic schtick, then you’d have to take matters into your own hand. You reached for your phone only to realize you didn’t have pockets, let alone a single clue as to where your phone was. Truthfully, you weren’t even sure how you made it home last night.

Pieck asked, “You remember going to the after-party, right?”

“Obviously.” You extended an open hand to her. “Give me your phone.”

She swatted you away. “Did you meet anyone?”

She clearly wasn’t going to lay off the subject, nor was she about to let you use her phone. What was once nausea had turned into a gnawing in your stomach. You wondered what you’d find if she gave it to you.

Pieck repeated the question as if you didn’t hear her the first time. You chose to humor her, staring up at the roof as if the answer lived there. But outside of the first few rounds of drinks, everything else was a blur to you, like someone had smudged a grubby finger across the memory.

“I don’t know.” You were muttering now. “Probably? It was a party.”

The longer you thought about last night, the sicker you felt. You could smell the vodka like someone had blown their boozy breath right in your face. That, and something reminiscent of vanilla were stuck in your nose. What a strange jump. Perhaps you enjoyed your fair share of vanilla vodka last night. That would explain the hangover, wouldn’t it?

Pieck pressed further. “Anyone from Devil’s Paradise?”

The car started to feel suffocating. Pieck’s interrogation only made it worse, like a smothering hand around your throat. You hadn’t thrown up yet, as far as you knew, and you weren’t about to now. 

You rested your forehead against the cool glass of the window. “Devil’s Paradise? I don’t even know what that is. It sounds like a bad b-horror movie or something.”

When you glanced over to her, she was staring at you as though you were some lost cause. She topped it off with her signature eye twitch. That always happened whenever she held back from tearing into you.

She eventually sighed. “I’ll just wait and have them tell you.”

Them. 

You didn’t pay attention during the drive; you were occupied with trying to swallow down the few bites of bagel you managed. You didn’t notice when the car took a left instead of its usual right or which highway the driver merged onto. You thought it was a mistake when you stepped out of the car. This wasn’t your record label’s building.

Pieck slammed the car door behind her, dashing right on by to the front doors.

Nope, there was no mistake. You had the right place. 

You nearly had to jog to catch the elevator before it left without you. Pieck’s foot started tapping in there, too. You counted every anxious beat as you rode to the twelfth floor. With the ding of the elevator, you stepped into the silent hallway.

With just as much intention as before, Pieck marched down the halls and led you to a large room. It was filled with more people than you had anticipated, crowded around a conference table. The gnawing in your stomach only worsened.

You felt Pieck’s hand on your back. You wanted to think it was her subtle way of checking in with you, but you knew she was asking you to take a seat.

Your eyes went to the faces you recognized first, two representatives from your record label that you shamefully couldn’t name right now. Everyone wore the same resting bitch face that Pieck had on; you must have missed the memo. You scanned over the rest of them, all unfamiliar, until your eyes fell on the tight-lipped expression of the only other person seated. 

Then it came back to you. In bits and pieces, of course.

♡ ♡ ♡

Pieck warned you to be on your best behavior before you left for the night. She always did that, though, in hopes you’d listen. Most of the time, you did, but tonight was an exception.

You had just two intentions for the night, and you made her aware of them. The first, to enjoy all the alcohol you had to skip out on over the last few months. The second, to wake up in someone else’s bed. Preferably someone with long hair. You liked having something to tug on.

As expected, Pieck didn’t love the plan, but thankfully, the TMI bomb grossed her out enough to lay off. 

Though she assured you otherwise, that was the real reason Pieck didn’t want you to go out. She had instructed you to treat every event—even the very exclusive and very overrated ones—as if it were any other public appearance. Your stylist only echoed the statement, which also explained why you were stuffed into a dress you had to tug down every other minute. 

While it wasn’t a dress you would have chosen for yourself, objectively, it was a gorgeous dress. Flattering, too, shaping your ass into that picturesque, squeezable heart shape. It was slinky and silver and glimmered with every step, drawing attention to you like you were a dolled-up disco ball. You even said those very words to your stylist. She didn’t find it as funny as you did. 

In fact, the dress was so gorgeous, especially under the fluorescent bathroom lights, that it caught the attention of Mikasa—

Shit. You couldn’t remember her last name. 

Anyway, Mikasa fawned over your dress as you washed your hands, introducing herself as you made your way back to the bar. You asked tons of questions you wouldn’t have if you were sober—every one pertaining to her being a bassist, which you found incredibly fascinating, drunk or not. You shared a drink together, then a shot, and talked all about it. 

No, talked wasn’t the best word for it. It was more like you listened to her, googly-eyed, entirely swept up in how she carried herself. She was graceful despite the liquor and already less reserved than the version of her you met in the bathroom. You wondered if she, like you, needed an excuse to let loose for once. 

You were sure Pieck would have also advised against the margarita Mikasa ordered for you, but how could you say no? The two of you had called each other bestie at least five times in the last thirty minutes. And while you planned on sticking to vodka tonight, you needed the liquid courage to complete your mission of ending the night underneath (or on top of) someone. 

Mikasa clinked her glass to yours for the umpteenth time that night—a toast to nothing in particular. Her tongue poked past her plum-painted lips, blindly searching for her straw. She snagged a sip as she told you that she and ‘the guys’ had a bungalow outside, over by the pool—said you should totally come and crash. 

Once again, how were you supposed to say no?

She led you there, your hand in hers, like a couple of schoolgirls out at recess. She smelt nice—jasmine and something warm, maybe vanilla. You found it intoxicating as you kept close behind.

The event was held at a rooftop lounge. It was a scene hidden behind stained glass, obscured by a mix of colors and lights. The pale glow of the moon against the starless city sky. The crystal blue of the pool—so clear that you knew it only served as decoration. Numbingly-pink neon lights reflected from your dress and sparkled onto Mikasa.

The bungalows were on the far side of the pool. They were reserved for those that needed to kick their feet up after performing earlier in the day, much like ‘the guys’ seemed to be doing. In the center was a firepit, marbled and sleek, lined with empty glasses—more than plenty of them, too, between the three men on the L-shaped couch. They looked at you, varying levels of interest on their faces, like you were something to eat.

Tonight’s mission just got a whole lot easier. 

“Who’s your friend?”

The one in the middle posed the question. Sat in the corner of the L, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his drink lightly swirling in his hand. His ash-brown hair was styled into a mullet—if styled was still applicable since it was now falling into his inquiring eyes. He kept them on you even though he was talking to Mikasa.

“Ha-ha, Jean. Don’t be rude,” she answered before you could. She introduced you the same way everyone did, as if to say, ‘You don’t know who this is? Have you been living under a rock?’ She looped an arm around yours, still as best of besties as ever. “She’s our guest.”

“I thought we told you to stop taking strays,” the one to Jean’s left said. His smile captured his entire face when he laughed, louder than you expected. But then again, based on the number of glasses surrounding the trio, you assumed anything would make him double over. 

“You guys are such dicks,” Mikasa sneered. 

Her hold on your arm tightened to a lock. She tugged you to the couch, sitting you between her and the last of ‘the guys.’ The one who hadn’t spoken up yet.

Jean grinned. “I’m not being a dick. I’m just wondering why she’d want to hang out with you.”

Mikasa’s face soured. Before she could bark back, Mr. Quiet finally spoke up, his voice deep and uninterested. “Leave her alone.”

“C’mon, man. We’re just messing around. Besides, it was Shit on Connie Day all fucking day. She deserves it,” the guy who referred to you as Mikasa’s stray said. Based on his tone, it was safe to assume he was Connie.

“It’s Shit on Connie Day every day,” Jean snickered.

“That’s what I’m trying to say! Now let me shit on Mikasa!” Connie’s eyes went wide right after he said it. Jean threw his head back in wild, drunken laughter. Connie could hardly contain his own, even as he slapped Jean’s arm and said, “No! Not like—you know what I meant!”

Your attention was stolen once Mr. Quiet leaned in close. He placed his arm on the back of the couch, behind you, like he wanted to wrap it around your shoulder. Quiet, but he certainly wasn’t shy, was he?

“Don’t listen to them. They’re fucking idiots around hot girls.” His voice was now deep and interested. 

It was forward, but you appreciated it. You had drunk just enough for some shameless flirting. You ran through the basics—smiling at him, coyly biting at your bottom lip to draw his eye. It worked, as expected, and he was bold enough to let his gaze linger there, on your mouth. 

You inched closer to him, your drink hanging heavy in your fingertips. “Oh, so you think I'm hot?”

He didn’t break eye contact. The flame’s light speckled in the green of his eyes. There was a playfulness in them, past the sulky and lascivious thing he had going on. “Like you don’t know it.”

You gifted him a giggle, soft but still enough to crack him. You could tell he had a flashy smile just by the hint she showed you, playing at the corner of his lips. It sent a jolt through you, that smile, like a zap right to your chest. 

“Eren,” he introduced. “Eren Jaeger.” He said it like it was supposed to mean something to you. It didn’t, and your expression remained just as placid as before. He shrugged. “Fair enough.”

When you gave him your name, he only replied, “I know.”

Mikasa was too drunk to pick up on this—whatever it was that was happening between you and Eren. The tension between you was thick enough for Jean and Connie to ‘grab a drink,’ but Mikasa didn’t get the hint. Even after Eren slipped his arm around you, for real this time, his fingers grazing over your shoulder before giving you a light squeeze. 

You were practically beaming at Eren because you were drunk and found him gorgeous, and not in the way that you needed alcohol to find him gorgeous. His precise features matched the night so well that you wondered if he’d look out of place during the day. The bridge of his nose and the crests of his cheeks were dusted pink, most likely from the alcohol and a day spent on a sun-hot stage.

He had nice hair, too, just like you wanted. Dark and long enough to brush over his sculpted shoulders. It went without saying he was confident, but he wore it well. Like the type of guy who got laid a lot but actually might know what he was doing because he got laid a lot. Lucky you.

Mikasa was oblivious to this, blabbering on and on. It was probably for the best, or else you would have found it a tad embarrassing—how unabashedly you were making eyes at Eren, just how closely he sat beside you.

You missed her reason behind it, but suddenly, she jumped to her feet and skipped off. She must have seen someone she knew, flinging her arms around them for a hug. She seemed to make friends easily. She was the reason you were here, after all, drunk and carelessly draping your legs over her bandmate’s lap. You liked that he wasn’t afraid to touch you while you talked.

Both of Eren’s hands were on you now, one still resting on your shoulder, the other smoothing over your calf. His fingers were rough, but his touch was gentle enough that you wouldn’t have noticed it if not for the kindling trail he left behind, somehow burning hotter than the fire. Your legs, properly lotioned hours earlier, felt balmy even in the crisp night air. 

It wasn’t hard for Eren to admit he found you unbearingly sexy. It was undeniable at this point, what with the whole recently-bedded, yesterday’s makeup sort of thing you had going on after a long night. Your eyeliner, dark as soot, had smudged at the corner of your eyes. Your lipstick had long worn off—something he didn’t have to worry about when he’d inevitably kiss you later. 

Eren knew that you knew what you were doing, drawing him in. You were an expert at batting those lovely lashes of yours, making sure to do it as you swiped your tongue past your lips, taking kittenish licks at the salted rim of your margarita. 

“So, that band of yours,” you started. You walked your fingers up the length of his arm, mindfully stepping along each tattoo. You studied his forearm, toned and ungiving under your nails, before asking, “Do you play guitar?”

“I sing.”

You were still just as excited by his answer, chirping back. “Oh, me too!”

“I know,” he said again. His hand roamed to your knee. “But I can play the guitar, too.”

You smirked; you thought he had the arms of a guitarist. The detail piqued your interest for lots of reasons.

You admired every groove of his hand as he continued up your leg, palming over your thigh. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, heightened at his touch. Or he was simply staring at your tits. Not that you minded, of course. You weren’t shy about pushing them together, just a little.

Eren’s eyes, though lidded, had an intensity behind them. It burned at you, and you were getting tired of just looking. You wanted to touch.

You had him at this moment, you were well aware of it, which was why you were bold enough to purr, “You must be good with your hands then.”

It wasn’t subtle, but he didn’t seem to mind. Not that you thought he would, considering he started this. The hem of your dress was already dangerously high on your thigh as he toyed with it.

“How about I let you be the judge of that?” His voice was suggestive, matching the smile curving his lips, one you wanted to taste.

And he let you.

With nothing greater than the tilt of your head, your mouth was on Eren’s. And he kissed you back more than willingly. He moved thoughtfully, his lips soft against yours while maintaining a certain strength. Eagerness. Both in how he kissed you and how his hold around your thigh tightened before dragging up your hip. 

It was an intoxicating feeling—being wanted. Desired in every sense of the word. The arm he had around your shoulder pulled you in closer. The taste of him and some distinct flavor of alcohol—probably a concoction of many—swirled on your tongue. You kissed him like you could get drunker off him.

There was a fleeting second, no longer than a few blinks of the eye, in which you had forgotten where you were. And in that delicious moment, you cherished how his hand continued higher until it was at your cheek, his thumb smushing up against it. It pulled a small breath from you, something you wouldn’t dare call a moan. Whatever it was, it was swallowed by Eren as though it belonged to him.

You only broke the kiss once you felt his tongue. It wasn’t that you wanted to stop—you would have straddled him right there, even if it meant you would have split the seam of your dress. You wanted to keep kissing him. It was just that you couldn’t. Not here. 

Eren’s thumb remained on your cheek, brushing languidly. You were sure he could feel the heat of your skin, growing even warmer under the greedy look in his eyes.

“You want to get out of here?” he asked.

You knocked back the rest of your drink.

You lifted your legs from his lap like you were granting him permission to stand. He did and offered you his hand, large enough to close enclose yours and strong enough to bring you to your feet. He did it all with this everpresent calmness, as if to confirm your suspicion and say, ‘Yes, I can and will make you come tonight.’

You walked together as though you were each other’s prizes for the night. A goody-bag on your way out, if you will. 

Eren kissed you again while waiting for the elevator. He spun you around until your back was pressed to the wall with your face between his hands, fingers curving behind your ears. You felt dizzy from your last drink and him. He was a deep kisser. Commanding, too. It fit him well. 

You didn’t notice when the elevator opened its door, nor did you hear it when it closed again. You were more concerned with how good his hands felt on your skin, how good his tongue felt in your mouth, finally. You were lost in the groan—that beautiful and barely audible groan—he let escape after you yanked him in by the shirt.

It was everything a drunken kiss (and what was about to become a drunken hookup) should be. It was sloppy and desperate and not the sort of kiss your dress was meant for. You didn’t think it was possible, but the fabric was somehow even tighter with Eren’s grabbing and groping, riding up your thigh until it couldn’t anymore, even with his stubborn hand reaching for your ass.

The only pause was when he tapped the button to call the elevator again. Before its door even closed behind you, you had him backed into the far corner, your lips on his like they had never left. You started at the corner of his mouth before kissing down his neck.

Eren’s breath bordered a chuckle. He spoke so quietly that when he said, “And here I thought you’d be boring,” it was as though he was talking to himself.

You stopped to look up at him. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” he hummed. The elevator opened. “Let’s go.”

You dodged him when he went to take your hand again. Still, you followed him out because, well, you didn’t really have another choice. You had to leave the elevator somehow. You tried your best not to sound pointed when you said, “No, I want to hear why you thought I’d be boring.”

You were attracted to him, that was beyond question, but it was getting difficult to look past his sanctimonious attitude. It was the classic scenario of choosing between the devil and the angel sitting on each of your shoulders. One told you to ignore the comment for the sake of the mission, while the other waved a red flag above its little head. You didn’t know which was which. Truthfully, they could both become devils depending on what Eren said next.

He neared you in a stride, scooping your chin between his fingers. His thumb was cold this time as he caressed your cheek. There was a likeness between that and the way he said the disparaging words, “You know, considering your music.” He kept his voice sweet, like he could keep you there and pliant for him while he jabbed at you. “That’s all.”

You jerked your head back to shake off his hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on.” He spoke as if it was all self-explanatory. Like he was annoyed with you for not getting it. 

“No, please. Continue.”

“I mean, nothing about your music is very prolific. It’s about as generic as it gets.”

It was what you expected to hear but still, there was a pathetically-painful thud of embarrassment pitting deep in your stomach. 

You hissed, “You’re a fucking asshole.”

“More like the asshole you were about to fuck.”

He looked at you like you had walked right into that, smug and satisfactory. You glowered up at him, readjusting your dress as you started to shove past him. 

“Yeah, well, it was great to meet you Eren whatever your last name is, from whatever shitty band you’re in.” 

“Good one.”

You left with the tip of your chin and huff. It wasn’t as elegant as you intended; your strappy heels were too thin to support you after your last drink. But that was that, and fuck that guy.

♡ ♡ ♡

He still had that stupid smirk on his face—Eren What’s-His-Face.

You didn’t think you’d ever see him again, or at least you hoped you wouldn’t. But there he was, sitting just across from you.

What an asshole. 

Someone spoke your thoughts into existence, snapping, “Wipe that grin off your face, punk.”

The owner of the contemptuous voice was the man standing to Eren’s right. He was short, not much taller than Eren who was slumped in his seat. He had sharp-looking features that matched his dagger of a voice. Still, his eyes were bored, flitting between you and Eren like you were a couple of kids in detention. 

Pieck leaned into you and whispered, “That’s Levi Ackerman. Manager of Devil’s Paradise.”

Ackerman. That was Mikasa’s last name. Were they related? They shared some resemblances, what with their fair skin and midnight-black hair. 

You didn’t outwardly acknowledge Pieck because Levi was still glaring at you. He said, “I have a feeling I don’t need to remind you what this is about.”

As always, Pieck answered for you. “She doesn’t remember—and I haven’t told her yet.”

You actually remembered now, but it wasn’t the time to correct her.

Levi’s face didn’t light up, even as he scoffed to Eren, “Damn, Jaeger. You’re that forgettable of a kisser, huh?”

Eren rolled his eyes but stayed silent. You preferred him like that.

Levi grabbed his phone, bitterly swiping at the screen. “Maybe this will jog your memory.”

The room’s attention was brought to the television on the wall. On it, Levi had screencast an article from some high-profile gossip blog. Your heart sank before you even read the headline. Not that you needed it, anyway. They were considerate enough to include a photo that told you everything you needed to know.

You wanted to slam your head against the table.

Listen, you knew you were drunk, but were you really that drunk? Drunk enough to literally suck the face—oh my God, do you really kiss like that?—of a stranger?

Then again, you did vow to get laid last night. It wasn’t your fault you so happened to choose the wrong guy. You should have one with the one with the mullet.

The blogger at least had the courtesy to censor your ass, though there wasn’t any mistaking that Eren was pawing at it.

You were deep breathing through it, reminding yourself to be grateful that the quality was grainy and the lighting was poor. Then Levi made the picture big enough to fill the screen.

“Don’t zoom in on it!” You held your hand up like a shield. “God, my tongue is halfway down his throat.”

Eren started to laugh, but Levi cut it short with a stiff elbow to his head. You wished you thought to do that last night.

Then, in a flurry, everyone started talking. Not just talking, but talking at you. After years of it, you learned to drone it out.

Through tense flitters of eye contact with Eren, his expression as steadfast as ever, you studied him. It was a shame, really. He could have been attractive if he wasn’t like that. You struggled to remember what you saw in him last night. Whatever was there was ruined the moment he started running his mouth instead of using it to kiss you.

You were right about one thing: he did look out of place during the day. You could still make out the same features behind his sullen hangover eyes and day-old scruff—sharp jawline, thick brows looking rather broody over his green—

Was that a hickey?

Surely, that wasn’t from you. There was no way.

Your face heated up. You told yourself it was anger. 

But you were angry. Hot with it. Sticky under your sweatshirt and when you shuffled, the backs of your thighs suctioned to your chair. As much as you wanted to leave, the meeting only dragged on. From what you gathered, these were the parts that actually mattered:

This was supposed to be your funeral if not for the fact that the world woke up to your and Eren’s ship name trending on Twitter. Apparently, the two of you were a hit. Something about everyone’s favorite sweetheart pop sensation getting caught up with the industry bad boy really did it for them.

Your team pitched it to you as if it were another one of their marketing tactics. Like a milkshake and fries, you and Eren didn’t belong together but somehow, it just worked. 

Yeah, that was exactly how they put it. You thought you might get sick in your mouth, but that could have been the vodka at it again. It was vile, watching them flaunt their brilliancy around as though this was just another step in their grand plan for you. 

Your team wasn’t tactful about it when they informed you this situation didn’t align with your image. They gave you the same speech they always did—you know, think of the kids that look up to you. That type of deal. You only interrupted when you heard them use the words ‘one-night stand.’

“We didn’t hook up,” you asserted.

“Doesn’t matter,” one of your representatives said. He had this ridiculous mustache that you couldn’t help but gawk at. It had to be new. “The only thing that matters is what the fans think, and that—” He paused only to zoom in on that awful photo again. “That doesn’t scream just friends to me.”

“We’re not friends either,” you grumbled. He shot you a look. You were speaking out of turn, and Pieck reminded you of it with a sharp heel to your toes. 

Luckily for you—as Mustache phrased it—they had a solution to restore the balance in the universe.

“We’ve decided it’s best for all parties involved that you and Eren go on as if you had been in a relationship,” he said, hands clasped together. “How’s that sound?”

That last bit was only cursory. He was telling you exactly how it was going to be. Your only job was to nod and smile.

To your surprise, Pieck was the one that spoke out of turn this time. “You didn’t say anything about that on the phone!”

“It wasn’t your decision to make. We already spoke with Dad,” he knowingly said. He wasn’t talking to Pieck this time but you. Still, you each visibility tensed.

Another member of Eren’s team, one who hadn’t made a peep yet, started to break it down for you. She didn’t fit in with the rest of them, she was much softer. Her red hair was bobbed and bounced as she talked with her hands. It was clear she was trying to sell you on the idea, but she stuttered the whole way through.

Apparently, the band’s songs, even some of the older ones, had a steep increase in streams just overnight. Fans were rabidly trying to theorize which songs were written about you (ha!) because, as you just learned, Eren wrote all their songs.

She then told you that your relationship—air quotes—with Eren only needed to last until the hype died down. Maybe after a tour or two. Like that made it any better.

Her scrambling cut out when Mustache stood up, signaling the end of the meeting. He turned to you and said, “Don’t take it personally. We really don’t care what you do in your free time. Just try not to make it our business again.”

“My image—”  Cue the air quotes again. “Doesn’t have to be your business in the first place. You don’t seem to care that much about it when you put me in dresses like that.” You pointed to the picture, then to Eren next. “And it’s not like dating him makes me look like an angel.”

“You’re the only person that got yourself into this. Don’t be mad when you leave us with no choice but to clean it up.”

Pieck pinched your thigh to stay quiet. You watched while your team left the room in their weird, little flock.

The door shut behind them. All that was left was silence. It loomed over the room. You felt Levi’s glare again. When you looked at him, you couldn’t read his expression. You shook it off by the time they started to leave.

You asked Pieck to meet you out by the car while you searched for the bathroom. You needed a moment to collect yourself.

The sweat on the back of your neck went cold as you stepped into the restroom. You fanned the bottom of your sweatshirt as you made your way to the sink and let the icy water run over your hands. You didn’t dry them but patted the backs against your cheeks. It quelled some of the fluster, but you still felt queasy with a disgusting mix of a bad hangover and the claustrophobia that always came with these meetings. You gave yourself a pep talk in the mirror before the panic could set in.

This is what you wanted to do with your life, isn’t it? Then this is the price you have to pay. It’s all worth it. 

You repeated the last line a few more times before emerging from the sanctity that was the women’s bathroom.

Without Pieck, it took a bit longer for you to find the elevator. After a few loops around the floor, you finally found it, along with another waiting on its arrival.

Eren.

Call it what you wanted—ironic, poetic, a cruel twist of fate, or perhaps plain old misfortune—but here you were again, side-by-side, waiting on yet another elevator.

You kept your eyes forward, watching the number above the elevator tick higher as it approached the twelfth floor. From the corner of your eye, you saw Eren turn to you.

“Hey—”

“Don’t talk to me,” you snapped. You wanted him to stay quiet like he had during the meeting.

Eren snorted. “Right, and I’m the asshole.”

“Yeah, you are.” You breezed by him when the elevator doors opened. He joined you, hitting the button for the ground floor, then the one that made the doors close faster.

You caught him glancing at you again. You wished he wouldn’t. He took it as another invitation to try and talk again. 

“Look, I’m sorry if I called you boring or whatever. But for the record, you’re the one that called my band shitty.”

You didn’t remember that last part, but it didn’t stop you from saying, “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“If I did, then I didn’t mean it.” You folded your arms over your chest. “I can’t even name one of your songs.”

“Oh, well, that’s perfect then. Apology accepted,” Eren sneered. He rolled his eyes again like he did with Levi. It was probably something you’d have to learn to endure for now.

“That wasn’t an apology.” When the elevator door opened, you walked out first, waiting for him, but only because you had more to say. “Shouldn’t you be more upset about this? Doesn’t having me around cramp your style?” 

His nose scrunched. “Who says that?”

You walked through the lobby together but far enough apart that it looked awkward. Not to mention, it probably wasn’t smart to talk this loudly about your fake relationship. Even more when Eren said, “And I don’t really care. You got me laid last night, so I can’t complain.”

“Huh?”

Then you remembered the hickey.

Eren stopped once you were on the sidewalk out front. You each had your respective cars waiting on you, and they would have to wait until this conversation was over. Without the table between you, the way he stared down at you made your pulse quicken.

“Whoever took that picture must have sent it to a lot of people. Like, a lot. Within the hour, my ex hit me up.” He shrugged to spare you the gritty details. “You know how it goes. Figured this would make her jealous.”

He said it far too casually for your liking. You were seeing red. “You can’t fake cheat on me!”

He almost did a double take, looking at you as if you had sprouted a third eye or something just as insane. “I didn’t fake cheat on you. We weren’t even in a fake relationship yet!”

You took a daring pace toward him. He didn’t appear threatened by it, not that you didn’t expect him to. “Those pricks upstairs might want to protect my reputation for their own fucked up reasons, but I will not let you ruin me. I would never stay with a cheater, fake or not.”

Pieck called you to the car but you ignored it. Your thoughts were racing, echoing in your head and bouncing off your skull so fast that you couldn’t keep up. It only pissed you off more when Eren offered you nothing more than a slightly raised brow.

“I promise you, if you get caught with her, this will not end well for you,” you threatened.

He laughed, like an asshole. “Yeah, I’m real scared.”

It ended the same way as last night—with you huffing, marching off, and feeling less than victorious. Pieck was still holding the car door open for you as she mouthed, ‘Yikes.’ 

She stopped you short of crawling inside, whispering, “Listen, if I knew it was going to be like that, I wouldn’t have agreed to this meeting. You know that, right?”

You gave her a look, long and hard, then sidestepped her to get inside the car. She followed in after you, sitting beside you this time.

She buckled herself in and repeated, “Right?”

Pieck wasn’t only your manager; she had also been your best friend for as long as you could remember. Back when you’d sit on the floor, backs pressed up against her family’s tweedy couch, with cotton balls shoved between your toes as you painted your nails. You’d throw snacks into each other’s mouths and see who could catch the most in a row. You always won.

She was only a year older than you, but there were times when it felt more like a decade. She was always the more mature half of the friendship. Maybe that was why she wasn’t great at catching popcorn in her mouth. You knew she’d call herself sisterly, but you thought of her as more of the motherly type. Overbearingly so, at times.

Your dad only permitted her to work as your manager because she was like family to you. It was the same reason that it only took a few days of begging until he agreed to the arrangement a few years ago. If you knew it would have wound up like this, perhaps you wouldn’t have been so persistent.

That wasn’t to say you didn’t like having her around. It was just that you thought she’d let you get away with more, considering you were best friends. That turned out to be only wishful thinking.

You eventually conceded with a hollow sigh. “I know.”

The car hit a pothole. You felt sick again, but you couldn’t blame the hangover this time.

“I assumed you at least liked the guy. You know, based on the photo,” she said.

You could tell she was trying to lighten the mood, but you only grunted a response.

She patted your head and let you rest it on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll talk to your dad, okay?”

♡ taglist: @daisynik7 @wtfiswrongwithme1 @bejewelledd @lifesuckssomuchtbh @str4wberrylover @pompompurjin @vanessani @bingbongbingbongsblog @intimacywithceline @6sakusa @softjaegerhours @akvrae @josukesss @my-wide-open-eyes @sundazedm1 @bomjug @rinshoe @vlsquuu please let me know if i missed you or you'd like to be added/removed!

[aengelren]

Final episode ends where the first episode starts

Armin is telling the story to the world

[shawtuzi]

thinking about incubus!eren walk with me real quick besties

“i’m scared mika what if we actually summoned something,” you huffed squeezing your my melody plush to your chest. mikasa and sasha began laughing over the phone making your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, “s’not funny guys you know that stuff scares me—can’t believe i let you guys talk me into doing it.” in a poor attempt to help you get laid mikasa and sasha thought it would be funny to convince you to summon an incubus, and because peer pressure is a treacherous bitch you begrudgingly gave in. although they wholeheartedly believed the summons was bullshit and tried to convince you a ‘sex demon’ would never appear in your dreams you couldn’t help but fear they were wrong.

“y/n trust me nothings gonna happen, i doubt we even gave you the right instructions to actually summon one so don’t worry okay? talk later bye!” before you could get another word up the line went dead leaving you alone with your paranoid thoughts. you let out a deep sigh mumbling to yourself, “it’s gonna be okay y/n it’s not real it’s not real it’s not real.” in an attempt to calm yourself you turned on your favorite show and it actually did work! soon you were peacefully drifting off to sleep—little did you know you had an audience watching you.

“finally she’s asleep,” a gruff voice spoke from the darkest corner of your room. eren stood to his full height before slowly making his way to your bed. although the room was pitch black aside from the soft glow from your tv eren could see your sleeping form perfectly. your heart beat had slowed drastically and little snores could be heard from your plump, parted lips. eren brought his hand to your face, trailing his knuckle ever so gently down your cheek. ‘so soft,” he thought to himself, bringing his thumb to run across your plump lips. eren could hear the tiniest whimper escape your mouth and that’s when he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

in your dumb little head you thought you were simply having a mind blowing wet dream about a man whose beauty you couldn’t even comprehend—little did you know eren was controlling the entire thing. every orgasm, every position you were put in, every degrading comment the nameless man said to you incubus!eren was controlling it all. in an instant eren has flipped your comforter up, exposing you and your cute little pajama set. “how cute…” the demon whispered cupping your pussy over your cotton shorts, “and she’s already soaked, even cuter!”

eren couldn’t contain his excitement as you began to grind your pussy against his palm. eren climbed above your sleeping body, careful not to wake you as he gauged your every reaction. your pussy had gotten so wet from your dream your slick had begun to seep through your panties and eventually your shorts, coating the demons palm in your sweet essence.

suddenly your eyes snapped open and you were met with piercing emerald ones staring right back at you. you opened your mouth to scream but he covered your mouth, slightly digging his nails into your skin. eren reached over and turned on your bedside light, giving you a slightly better view of his face. the sight of him made your eyes widen—you couldn’t tell if it was in admiration or horror (maybe both). “i look a little familiar huh?” he grinned showing off his razor sharp canines, “now if i remove my hand will you promise to be a good girl and not scream?” you slowly shook your head making eren’s smile widen. eren removed his hand from your mouth but stayed hovered over you, his wings blocking everything in the room but his scarily handsome face.

“don’t act so surprised to see me you are the one that summoned me after all im just doing my job,” he brought his much larger hand to your face, squeezing your cheeks together. you were absolutely speechless. there’s no way you conjured a damn sex demon there was absolutely no way—yet here he was in all his glory looking like he was ready to devour you whole. “y-you’re not going to h-hurt me are you?” your shaky voice made eren’s semi-hard dick throb. eren buried his head in your neck inhaling the sweet smell shea butter and coconut scented body wash, “m’not hear to hurt you sweet thing,” his long tongue licked from the junction of your neck to the shell of your ear, “i’m just hear to make you feel good—make us feel good together.”

“you’re so cute and soft,” he smiled taking your trembling hand in his, pressing a soft kiss the skin of your palm. the incubus then began to litter your neck with kisses, slowly making his way to your cleavage. “so…after we have sex does that mean you’ll go away” you asked, letting out a little gasp when he yanked up your sleep shirt. “so pretty…” he mumbled to himself before taking one of your nipples into his watering mouth. “but to answer your question yes i will go away—unless i release inside you then we’d be bonded,” his words were muffled as he continued to suckle on your nipple, tweaking the other with his hand. “b-bonded? ah!” you let out a squeak as eren bit down harshly on your nipple before swirling his tongue once again around the bud.

eren let out a lewd ‘mhmm’ as his kisses began to trail lower and lower until he was between your parted thighs. his sharp nail ran down your covered folds making you jump the tiniest bit, “if we’re bonded that means i am yours but most importantly you’ll be mine. i’ll get to take care of this neglected little pussy as much as you need, wouldn’t that be just divine sweet girl?” before you could get a word out his disturbingly long tongue began to lap at your pussy over your sleep shorts, soaking the fabric even more. your hips bucked up into his face making the demon giggle.

“so what do you say? i promise i’ll take such good care of you until the end of time. i swear it,” you looked into his eyes pondering for a moment before nodding your head. you felt pathetic for just a second until it was replaced with overwhelming pleasure when eren pulled your shorts and panties to the side, licking a slow fat stripe up your soaked pussy. you were risking your safety and sanity by making a deal with such an evil spirit but with the way eren skillfully made out with your pussy you just couldn’t find it in you to care.

eren was elated to have such a cute little plaything by his side now, and it looked like you were just as happy to have him too. he may have left out the part where he’s going to consume your every thought and be the star of every single dream you have but you don’t mind right?

[punkcheeks34]

feelings/ pt 1

eren x reader, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, drunk confession

you knew eren before you knew him. his mom and your mom were the best of friends in highschool, and a friendship was fated from the start. from family barbecues to birthdays, you two were always together. “inseparable” is what carla describes us. eren always scoffed when mom would say we would get married one day. my eyes would brighten at the mention.

eren was always the outsider growing up, the rebel. he grew his hair to his shoulders, didn’t get along with the popular crowd, got an illegal tattoo at 16, and religiously wore band tees. as we got older, i noticed him more and more. we were around each other so often, so close. when his voice got deeper and his arms became toned, i couldn’t help fighting my feelings. to him, we were friends. to me, he was more. i knew he never saw me the way because he slept around. he smoked and wasn’t afraid to break a few laws. hes the personification of the boys your mom will tell you to watch out for, because their mystery is so alluring that you won’t be able to resist, and that in the end, they will break your heart. mom would never see eren in another light though. nothing other than her best friends adorable, sweet child.

as i’m about to fall asleep, my phone buzzes on my bedside table and reach for it quickly.

R u awake

it’s 2 in the morning and i know what he’s been doing.

what’s up eren?

i wait anxiously.

Im sorru it’s so latew but can u pick me up from Jean’s please?

i immediately get up and throw on a zip up hoodie. i grab my keys and hurry out of my window. god, the things i do for this boy.

the first time i felt something for him was 6th grade. for a while, he had been trying to slum it with the popular boys, reiner, jean, flock, and zeke, in our class. it didn’t work. he was a puzzle piece that didn’t fit, but he tried and i watched. i watched him try biking every day after-school with them when i knew he preferred to go skating with me. i watched him try to salvage his failing math grade from constantly attempting to meet the demands of these boys, their constant hangouts that eren didn’t really look forward too, telling me how unfunny he thought their jokes were. i watched eren and the popular boys talk to the popular girls. seeing eren laughing with historian reiss made me fume. who was she to even speak to him? she doesn’t know him like that? she doesn’t know him like i do!

it was all jealousy. historia was beautiful, popular, and i knew eren thought so too, because i would see them drinking slurpees at the quick zip every friday after school. i fumed even more. there were rumors that they had even kissed. stupid me thought and dreamed that maybe he secretly wanted me, and maybe he secretly wanted me to be his first kiss. hearing the rumor crushed me. i was heartbroken, but i could never be mad at eren over some dream that would never come true.

but suddenly eren withdrew. historia and him never hung out on fridays and the popular boys treated eren like he were a plague. jean still spoke to him though, even with their bitter rivalry that he would never tell me stemmed from what. me and him were already attached at the hip by that point, but he stuck by me like glue from then on. i didn’t question it. i didn’t care too because that he wanted to spend time with me, me.

we spent the rest of our middle school and high-school years together. always turning around to make sure the other one was behind. always picking the same classes to take so that we’d be together. always going back to my place after school, sitting on my bed to talk about everything the world has to offer over and over again. i would always help him with math, and he would always defend me against the popular guys that pursued me, warning me that he knew their motives. that they didn’t want me for the right reasons. i understood and i kept away. but they didn’t.

junior year, after our AP physics class, the ringleader of the group, zeke, cornered me in the stairwell and confessed how long he had been wanting me. how much he needed me, and that i should come over sometime with his friends. and from that, i already had an idea that this was what eren was talking about. i tried to get out, but he wouldn’t let me. eren pushed him to the wall and fought him. jean and armin had to pull eren off of him. eren got suspended because he broke zekes nose, and he had to get surgery to fix the damage.

during erens suspension, we spoke.

“i don’t like how the guys are,” he starts, fixing the pink pillow under his head,” they get me so fucking mad.” he’s been staying at my house ever since he got suspended. his parents are mad.

i look up from the book i was reading. “it was only zeke who really pushed it? why are you so pissed about the whole group?”

erens eyebrows furrow. “y/n, they’re guys. i’m a guy, and you’re not. i know how guys like them are!” he suddenly looks uncomfortable. “it’s disgusting.” he mutters, “and i don’t like that zeke wanted you to come over.”

“but still?” i argue, “just because you have something against zeke doesn’t mean you should hate the whole group with a passion. i know they’re obnoxious, but don’t let them get to you.”

“of course i have something against zeke and his friends! he forced you into the corner and told you how bad he wanted to fuck you!”

i cringe at the honesty. “i meant that you’ve hated him since middle school. like.. obsessively hate.”

eren lets out a laugh at the idiocracy. “first of all, i am not obsessed with zeke fritz.” he takes a deep breath like he’s preparing for the finale of a grand speech. “and second of all, he’s always pissed me off.”

“even when you hung out with him and his friends?” i tease.

eren grows silent. “i don’t want to talk about it.” and i dropped the conversation.

i pull into the round-about where jean lives. i’ve had to pick eren up a few times from here, but lately, the only reason he’s been here is to get drunk at jeans college parties. jeans parents are loaded, lawyers who travel for work, which leaves him at home with way too much freedom.

the music is vibrating the ground from here. i wonder when the police are gonna show up to shut down this party for the noise disturbance. i need to find eren, soon. i open the front door and see people leaning on the walls with drinks, talking, joking, some making out. i look away and try to find eren. i don’t see him anywhere.

after scanning the entire first floor, eren jeager is no where to be found. i head towards the stairs and start walking up, hoping to find him upstairs.

where are you? i text.

as i’m walking down the hallway, i hear a familiar voice.

“In here!”

i walk toward the sound of his voice, the last door of the hallway that has the name “jean” written in bright blue letters. i open the door and see the unexpected.

well, not fully unexpected. i see eren, his almost- shoulder length hair pulled back into a bun and his body adorning grey sweatpants and a navy hoodie, who i was expecting to see, laying down on jeans bed, smiling at the ceiling like a weirdo. yep, he’s one drink away from blacking out. but what i didn’t expect to see was historia reiss, sitting at the end of the bed, picking at her split ends and chewing her gum with her mouth open. my stomach turns at the scene, but i force down my feelings.

“hey!” i say. historia turns to me with a look of disappointment on her face and eren lifts his head and laughs drunkly when he sees me.

“uh,” i suddenly become uncomfortable under historias arrogant stare, “sorry i didn’t knock, i’m here to get eren.”

she looks at eren and then looks at me, saying, “okay..” condescendingly and walks into jeans bathroom. she wasn’t wearing any shoes. erens not wearing any either.

“heyyyy,” eren slurs as i walk over to him. “i didn’t know you partied!” he jokes before bursting out laughing

“you texted me. how much did you have to drink?”

he looks dumbfounded at the simple question “what?”

“i said, how much did you have to drink?” i repeat. i can barely hear my own voice over the booming music.

“uhhhhh-,” he replies after a few seconds, “i don’t know.”

“okay, cmon. get up eren. we’re going.”

“yes ma’am.” he says, giving a military salute. surprisingly, he can stand just fine despite how drunk he seems. i make sure he has everything

and we leave jeans house. we walk over to my parked car and i put eren in the backseat incase he pukes all over my dashboard again. i don’t want a repeat of the last time i picked him up.

“there’s a plastic bag in the right pocket if you need to puke, eren, just letting you know.” i mention as i pull out of the round-a- bout.

“okay, mom, thanks” he scoffs.

i pull unto the main road, stopping at the red light.

“so,” i start,” historia, huh?” my voice filling the silence.

“huh, what’re you talking about?” he says in a genuine, drunk confusion. “did something happen”

“i just didn’t know you guys were really friends.” i reply. and i murmur, “obviously more than that though.”

you’re eyes are fixed on the road, but erens eyes are dead fixed on you after that snide comment that he definitely heard.

“yeah,” he rolls his eyes, sarcasm and the presence of alcohol in his tone, “we had so much fun, y/n. you don’t even know.”

i look at him through the dash cam window and he’s staring at me with a smirk and an indepipherable look in his eyes, testing me. i grip the stealing wheel and drive faster. i know he’s joking, but i can’t tell if he’s hinting at the truth or just telling a lie to get a reaction out of me.i just want this conversation i started to be over with.

“uh, so, how’s jean?” i change the conversation.

“what, you like him or something?”

“what! no!” i deny. “i never said that, eren?”

eren leans back into the seat, head resting on the head rest as he looks up. “whatever.”

unlike eren, there’s no alcohol in my system, but i’m feeling bold today. “what do you mean whatever, eren? you think i like jean?”

“uhhh, haven’t you always?” he states like it’s the obvious. “i saw the way he looked at you in art class.”

“just because he looked at me once or twice doesn’t mean i want him to fuck me or something.”

erens eyes narrow and his brows furrow, lifting his head in interest. “what the fuck did you just say?”

“what the fuck are you saying?” i fight back. “i ask you how jean is and you act like i’m begging on my knees for him. god damn.”

now he’s fully attentive, elbows on his knees and leaning in as if he’ll learn more by his upright posture. “i don’t like the idea of you liking jean,” he states, the slurring of his words still audible , “aaand i don’t like the idea of jean liking you.”

my heart races. “why?”

“maybe it’s the same reason you don’t like seeing me with historia.” and suddenly, he sounds sober.

my heart stops. he heard the comment i made under my breath.

“eren, i don’t care who you see.” the lie is evident in my tone, but eren is so drunk that i don’t bother to hide it. “you can hook up with historia for all i care. have fun with mouth herpes.”

“see, this is what i don’t like,” he slurs out, “did it really not bother you when you saw me and historia in the same bed?”

“why would it bother me? we’re just friends.”

“is that what you want to believe?”

“is that what i shouldn’t believe, eren?”

eren sighs and leans back again. “you remember when i hung out with zeke, flock, reiner, and jean like way back?”

“yeah.”

“that entire time. all they talked about is who would get you first. who would be the first to- fuck. fuck!” he slurs “i never wanted to tell you that!”

my mouth is to the floor. “seriously? that is so- why woudlnt you tell me?”

he looks out the window, “because i was scared that if i told you they liked you, you’d like the attention and shit, and then you wouldn’t be mine.”

my heart is beating out of my chest. “my god, you’re so drunk. eren, you’re speaking nonesense.”

“i’ve been in love with you since the 6th grade.”

“eren, stop.” tears brim my eyes. in the morning, when he’s sober and remembers this, he’ll regret his drunken lies and i’ll have to pretend like this drunk, fake confession didn’t mean the world to me.

“i left the digusting group for that. i hated that me and those annoying dogs had something in common, wanting you.”

“you never wanted me, eren!” i snap, “ you would fake a gag every time our moms shipped us together! and what about historia, huh? don’t act like you two haven’t been sleeping together since highschool. oh, and what about mikasa? you and her-”

“i don’t care about them! all i want is you y/n! i thought you already knew how bad i had it for you” he cuts me off.

“fucking lies.”

he grows quiet for a while.

“i pretended they were you everytime,” he admits,” they didn’t turn me on. i had to pretend they were you, ” he leans in, “and honestly? i still do.”

his words send butteflies rushing to your stomach, but you know better. “eren. you’re drunk”

he pulls his hair out of his messy bun and puts his hood on. “drunken. words. are sober. thoughts!” he enunciates before laughing.

we pull into his house driveway.

“i’m sorry for teasing you about me and historia tonight.” he apologies, and i smell beer from his breath. “im really sorry.”

“i thought drunk words were sober thoughts?” you retaliate with hurt in your tone. you didn’t want to argue, but you didn’t want to not stand your ground.

“i just- wanted to make you jealous. im sorry, y/n” he hugs me, arms wrapping around me tightly as he fits his head into the crook of my neck and sniffs. “god, you smell so good..”

“eren.” you warn.

“your perfume. it drives me insane.” he whines and starts peppering kisses down your neck.

you blush and your heart stops before you push him off of you. he stumbles back, having to regain his balance due to the alchohal in his system. he’s drunk, he’s drunk and he’s so fucking drunk.

the look in his eyes are nothing short of hurt. “y/n..”

“we’ll talk in the morning” you breath out. “go sleep this off.”

“i’ve already tried,” he replies as he walks up the stairs to his room, “why do you think i get so drunk all the damn time. seeing historias face sober every weekend makes me remember that she isn’t you.” he gets to the top step and disappears behind the wall.

[daisynik7]

Give You Blue

Epilogue

You are my universe, my everything, my sunset. You still give me butterflies, my lullaby. You are everything I wanted.

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

cw: switching POVs (reader is second-person, Eren is third), fluff, established relationship, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), cunnilingus, face-riding, spit play, pet names (sweetie, honey, sweetheart, princess, good girl, baby) 

Previous Chapter

Give You Blue Masterlist | ao3

Author’s Note: Just an excuse to write a little bonus chapter about these two! Fluffy, adorable, and happily in love! Also a little smut added to the mix. Thank you everyone for reading this story all the way through the end! Love and appreciate every single one of you. What a journey this has been. Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated, as always.

It’s 11:45 PM, New Year’s Eve, fifteen minutes before the start of the new year. You leave your family gathered downstairs to head up to your room, shutting the door quietly, tapping your boyfriend’s contact on your phone screen. 

Eren answers after two rings. “Hey, cutie. Hold on.” There’s shuffling, like you’ve been temporarily put in his pocket. In the background, you hear him announce, “Mom, I’m pretty tired. Going to bed now.”

“But you’ll miss midnight!” she responds. 

You hear his dad chime in. “Let him, honey. He can make his own decisions.” There’s a hint of bitterness in his tone that even you can detect on the other end of the line.

Your boyfriend lets out a nervous chuckle, muttering a quick, “Happy New Year.” There’s more rustling, then sounds of steps going up stairs, ending with a gentle thud of a door closing. “Sweetie? You still there?” he asks, finally alone. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” You smile into the phone, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he greets back. “It’s so nice hearing your voice.”

“I feel the same way,” you reply, falling back into the mattress, gazing up at the ceiling. “How was tonight?”

“Oh, you know, the usual: My mom cooked too much food for three people and my dad has been sneaking little jabs at me. Nothing new.”

Eren officially changed his major before the end of the semester from pre-med to education, a huge weight lifted off his shoulders while a tinier one replaces it, aka his father’s overall disapproval. Dr. Jaeger stood by his word, threatening that he would no longer support his son financially once he made the switch, to which Eren has been preparing for. He has two new on-campus jobs lined up for him at the start of the new semester, along with the weekly music session at the elementary school Erwin Smith’s dad works at. The first week of winter break, he was ready to apply for a few loans to help him throughout the rest of his term. Then, to his shock, his father approached him, informing him that he will actually continue to pay for his education, on the condition that he graduates with outstanding grades and a job guaranteed. Eren’s sure it was his mother who was behind the change in heart, to which he’ll forever be grateful for. Unfortunately, this hasn’t stopped his father from making snide remarks here and there. 

You sympathize with him, saying, “I’m sorry.”

His charming grin is audible through the phone. “Don’t be. I can handle it.”

“Where’s Mikasa? And your brother?” 

“Mikasa left this morning to spend the rest of break with Jean. And Zeke had to head back to prepare for some conference, so he’s actually in your neck of the woods right now,” he answers, referring to your hometown and current location: Marley. He adds, “To be honest, I wish I was there too.”

You smile, kicking your feet, belly fluttering with butterflies. “We’ll see each other in a week. Do you really miss me that much?” you tease.

“More than anything.” 

Swallowing hard, sentimental words dancing on the tip of your tongue (I miss you too, I think about you every day), you remain silent, too shy to get them out. Instead, he continues speaking, changing the subject to talk about what his mom prepared and the new year traditions behind them. She decided to do a spread of German foods this time around: pork sausages for good luck, sauerkraut for more money, and lentil soup for even better luck. He tells you about his childhood, popping open apple cider to tip into everyone’s glasses, watching the fireworks light up the sky from a distance, igniting sparklers outside with Armin, Mikasa, and the other neighborhood kids on the street. You listen to him intently, imagining a young Eren with that same signature bright smile he dons as an adult; warm, genuine, full of light. It’s no wonder you fell for him, especially in a time of your life where you were shrouded in darkness from the fallout of your heartbreak, unsure when you’d ever see sunshine again. 

I love you. Every time you think it, you double back, convincing yourself that it’s too soon, too much in such a short amount of time. After all, it’s only been a little over a month since the two of you officially became a couple. Wouldn’t it be crazy to express such a weighted confession? 

When there’s a small pause in the conversation, finished with his stories, you start, “Eren,” ready to admit it. 

“Oh, it’s already 11:59!” he interjects, excited. “How many seconds do we have left?”

You turn on the TV, switching to a local channel that’s displaying a countdown. “Ah, ten seconds!” You watch the clock, listening to Eren announce the numbers in your ear. At three, you join in. “3…2…1…Happy New Year!”

Downstairs, you hear your family cheering, clinking flutes of champagne or cider with each other. The sound of fireworks bursting can be heard faintly through your window. On the opposite end of the line, Eren says, “Happy New Year, beautiful. Wish I could kiss you right now.”

You smile. “Me too.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to join your family downstairs?” he asks.

“Positive. I want to start the new year with you.”

He laughs softly. “Me too. And you know what? For the first time in a long time, I’m actually excited about the new year. I used to dread going back, always so anxious about my new classes. All the tests and projects I had to work on during the semester. Even interacting with my classmates because it was always so competitive. Now, my new curriculum sounds interesting, and I feel good about my cohort. I just know this year is going to be a great one.” He pauses, choosing his next statement carefully. “I’m also looking forward to us. We’ve got all the time in the world now. I can’t wait to create so many more memories with you.”

Your heart beats faster, taken back by his sincerity. You decide not to confess to him tonight, not because you’re unsure, but because you mean it more. Those three words don’t seem enough to express that to him. Not yet at least. There’s no pressure to rush into anything; as he said, you’ve got all the time in the world. 

~~~

Spring semester of sophomore year starts off smoothly, especially for Eren. This is the only time during his collegiate career that he’s felt at ease. While he’s equally as diligent as he was before, he enjoys the material he’s learning, rather than stressing each passing day like he once was. Having his supportive girlfriend by his side is also a huge help, maybe the biggest of them all. He’s never been happier. 

Technically, it’s forbidden for RAs to date their residents. However, that hasn’t stopped them, often sneaking into his room to do what couples usually do. Quite frankly, neither are worried about hiding it, considering the rest of the dormitory residents are well aware of the relationship and unfazed by it. Still, whenever one of Eren’s managers visits, he’s extra diligent in keeping that information private. 

As for her situation with her ex, she has completely moved on, and seemingly so has he. Occasionally, she’ll spot Reiner walking around campus with his fraternity brothers or classmates. She and him will exchange a cordial head nod, polite wave, sometimes a reminiscent smile, but nothing more. Acknowledging each other’s presence, understanding there’s no more left to their story. A fleeting moment of reminiscence about their past life together, gone as soon as it appears. During these times, Reiner will flash a serious glance at Eren. It’s not threatening or malicious, more like a cautionary warning. He can’t blame the guy; after all, Reiner was her first love, and vice versa. Despite their relationship coming to an end, deep down, they must care for each other to some degree. Even as the new boyfriend, he can understand that, so he remains unbothered by it.

Despite his father agreeing to continue the payment of his tuition, Eren decided to work at least one part-time job this semester to supplement date nights or gifts for his girlfriend. His job is being the front desk of the school library, helping students locate resources or manage the study rooms. For the most part, his schedule is manageable. However, when the week of midterms arrives, it gets a little more complicated. The facility remains open twenty-four hours on weeks like this so students have a place to study at all times. Driven by the increased pay during the night shifts, Eren offers to work them without thinking how it’ll affect his daily routine. It’s only after the first night that he realizes he won’t be able to see his girlfriend until the week is over. With her being just as busy with group projects, there isn’t a time they have free to see each other. So, they settle for voicemails and text message spanning the next few days, which in Eren’s mind, pass by like weeks, maybe months. He misses her. 

Finally, Friday comes, and exams are over. After his last class, he heads straight for his room, knocking out for a long nap. He wakes up to gentle tapping on his door. When he answers, he’s thrilled to see her, smiling brightly at him. “Hi.”

Before he can respond with words, he launches forward, wrapping her in his arms. “I’m so happy to see you.” He buries his nose to the top of her head, inhaling that familiar scent he’s been yearning for all week long. “I missed you so much.”

She laughs, music to his ears, warming his entire soul. “I missed you too.”

He pulls her into his room, pushing the door closed by pressing her up against it with a kiss. They stay like this for a while, his hands caressing her cheeks, her fingers hooked to the waistband of his sweats, tugging ever-so-slightly towards her. They kiss each other, languid, soft, and effortless, like this is exactly where they’re meant to be. He’s been deprived too long without her. He won’t waste another second. 

She pulls away, leaning back to look at him. “Are you hungry? Do you want to get dinner now?”

He smirks, mouth grazing her ear. “I am hungry, but for something else.” One hand trails down to her hip, squeezing. “I’ve been starving for you all week. Dessert first, then dinner.”

She giggles, nipping at his lower lip. “Are we calling this dessert now?” 

“Yup,” he grins. “Because it’s going to be so, so sweet.”

~~~

Within minutes, your clothes are tossed to the floor, stripped and bare in his bed, sheets twisted beneath as your lips smack noisily with each other. “Can I taste you now? Please?” Eren asks.  

You nod, rolling onto your back, spreading your legs for him. He shakes his head, hoisting you over him. “Not like that. I want you to ride my face.”

“What?” you stammer, surprised at the suggestion. 

“Ride my face,” he repeats. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely sure. I want it so bad, baby.” The way his voice sounds needy and desperate has your pussy throbbing. Carefully, you straddle him, lowering yourself slowly. His hands slide around your thighs, gripping you. “Come on. Smother me, sweetie.” More aggressively, he shoves you to his face, tongue already out and licking at your clit. You grasp onto the headboard, rolling your hips onto his mouth, head thrown back in pleasure. His moans are muffled, vibrating into your skin with his lips puckered to your bud, sucking. 

Soon, you’re coming for him, slick gushing from your slit. He drinks it up, slurping it noisily, his hips thrusting into nothing, cock stiff against his abdomen. “Fuck, you taste so good. Think you can ride my cock now, princess?”

Still reeling from your orgasm, you whimper in response, readjusting yourself so you’re on his lap, sliding your slippery cunt along his erect shaft. He rests his head on his palms, elbows splayed, watching you. “That’s it, baby. Get it nice and creamy with your cum. You’re doing such a good job.”

The praise spurs you on, rubbing yourself on his dick until you’re ready for him, tingling all over. You sink down, cock sliding in smoothly until he bottoms out, your pussy entirely full of him. He plants his feet to the bed, thrusting into you gradually. “I know you already came, but can you give me one more, sweetie? Just one more?” It sounds like he wants to add a pretty please to the end of it, nodding his head affirmatively, looking up at you with innocent eyes while he fucks you relentlessly.

You let out a pathetic whimper, nodding along with him, totally captivated. He smiles so sweetly, the tinge of wickedness in his eyes almost goes unnoticed. Almost. Your boyfriend can be a real menace sometimes, acting tender as he man-handles you like his own personal sex doll. His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh. He’s breathing heavily, exerting all the energy left in his being to give you the best fuck of your life. You bounce on his lap until your legs are spent, yielding all control to him. One hand travels up your spine and lands at the nape of your neck, caressing you, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. His tongue swirls into your mouth, pushing his thick saliva past your lips. He halts his brutal thrusts, hard cock all the way inside you, pussy throbbing around it. 

“Open up, sweetie,” he says. You’re high off his cock, too dumbed out to think rationally, so you obey his command, sticking your tongue out. He bites his lip, studying you like you’re the prized treasure he’s about to collect. He tips your head towards him, leaning in close to spit a wad of his saliva in your mouth. “Swallow.” You do, guzzling every drop of it down your throat. 

“That’s it. Such a good girl,” he coos.

“Give me more,” you groan, sticking your tongue out. 

He grins, smooching your nose. “You like it, don’t you sweetheart?” 

You nod, eyes half-lidded as he does it again, his hot, frothy spit coating the inside of your mouth. Arms coiled around his neck, you clutch onto him tightly, electricity rippling from your core throughout the rest of your body as he pumps his cock in and out of you. 

“Eren,” you whimper, nuzzling his ear. Maybe it’s the heat of the moment, or the fact that you haven’t seen him all week and you missed him so much, you’re bursting at the seams. In a breathy huff, it slips out. “I love you.”

Suddenly, he pauses, stunned by your confession. He holds your face between his palms, staring at you with a serious expression. “What did you say?”

“I love you.”

His lips part, dumbfounded and in a daze, with his dick still hard inside you. It’s not what you imagined it would be like, but in this moment, you wanted to get it off your chest. It’s been simmering within you since New Year’s, and while it’s not the most luxurious of settings, it’s intimate and special, especially with the way his eyes twinkle. “You love me?” he reiterates, clearly in disbelief.

With more confidence, you reply, “I love you, Eren.” You nuzzle your nose to his, smiling. “I love you.”

He laughs, pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you, too. I’ve loved you this whole time.”

The two of you giggle into each other’s mouths as you kiss, Eren whispering “I love you” in between. You rock your hips onto his lap, making love slowly until eventually, you come together, skin hot and dewy with sweat, hearts thumping loudly against your chests. He cradles you in his arms, peppering more soft smooches around your face, intertwining his legs with yours. A perfect fit. 

@batafuraikisu @bloompompom @monirei @filunara @katestrophes @ichinosejager13 @hoperenae @zellskz @e-ayyy @liliorsstuff-blog @maliakealoha @holdmeclosebutdontloveme @chrollohearttags @sailorputa @squickkk @dnyllmh @hellomeow12 @s-cream-ing @potofstewie @conniesbbymama @erzascarlett28 @lem-hhn @roronoazorosbxtchh @ichigostrawberry15 @rhaelrence @lilshades @bigmoodyjoody @icansmellsouls @aangsupremacy @ashsauroras @bakuhoes-bxtch @si-kamo @jmtherula @imaddicted-b @monkemanjeager @neesiewrote @large-juice @chiinni @belovedackerman

[mochimooon]

DTF Only (Tinder Wh*re) - eren jaeger x reader 18+

pairing: Eren Jaeger x afab! Reader summary: On a six-day Tinder streak, you don't plan to stop for Friday night. Especially when Eren invites you out for a drink. word count: 4500+ notes: Part 7 of DTF Only. Aight, first time writing fanon! Eren. Ya'll know what to expect here. As always indented text refers to reader's messages. warnings: smut, explicit content, explicit language, oral sex (f! receiving), exhibitionism, semi-public sex, degradation, alcohol consumption, toxic power-play, name-calling, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex ☻ masterpost☻

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ !!

Pieck’s message lights up your phone.

Another one??? 

You’ve outdone yourself. Six dates in a row and your streak continues tonight. 

The latest match, Eren invited you for a round of drinks. Simple and low-key. 

As far as appearance goes, you’re mesmerized. His striking features had you scrolling through both his profile and Instagram (included in his bio). Green eyes, tan skin, dark brown hair that fell just shy of his shoulders, styled mostly in a haphazard bun. Not to mention the number of shirtless selfies, it’s obvious: he knows he’s hot.

Arrogance isn’t usually your flavor, but glimpses of a tongue ring challenge you to expand your palate.

He’s such a WHORE!!  You can just tell

Yep. Whore-vibes.  And that tongue ring…😛

lol, freak. I’m so proud of you.  One week and you’re already thinking Colt who?

You laugh at that, albeit it’s a hollow one. A week later and you’re still not sure how to feel, and a part of you is concerned some untapped feelings will catch up to you later. 

Despite the fun you’ve had on these dates, Colt has creeped into your mind a few times, mainly because he’s the last person you were with. However, thoughts of him don’t linger long enough by the time you’re getting busy with your Tinder matches. 

Still, you do wonder what he’s up to. 

Is he on Tinder too in his city? If so, you don’t feel anything strongly about that. 

Just then, you get a new text message. 

Heading out now See you there ;)

Much like the other guys, you and Eren had exchanged personal numbers. You had no problem with it, preferring it that way you could call them if you had to, and vice versa. 

Almost ready 😊 Be there soon

…

It’s easy to find Eren at the bar. You might be pushing your luck, but you’re grateful that every guy you’ve matched with looks like their pictures (and even better in person). 

He’s snagged a table near the bar, a negroni, barely touched, indicating that he hasn’t been waiting long. As you approach, you take this opportunity to assess him, and your face warms the closer you get to the table. 

He’s…attractive, almost painfully so. An effortless kind of swagger in the way he sits on the chair, elbow bent over the edge, a hand stretched out on the table, tapping his fingers. You’re surprised that he’s not mobbed by a flood of men and women right now. 

Walking past the bouncer, green eyes zero in on you, lighting up like a radar. 

Eren gets to his feet, gliding forth to say your name in a smooth low tone. “Hey there, pretty girl.”

You shiver from the toned muscle you’re pressed against. “Hi, Eren, nice to meet you.”

“I opened up a tab,” he says as he returns to his seat. “Someone will come over and you can place an order.” As he speaks, you’re given the first glimpse of that tongue ring. 

You force yourself to look away to keep from drooling over it. “Cool, thank you. I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?”

“Nah. Barely placed this order.” He points to the negroni. “You’re good.”

A waitress comes by in a second to take your drink order. 

“A tab’s open already,” Eren tells her. “Under Jaeger.”

You pause, mind reeling from the name. You wave it off. “Is this your go-to spot?"

Eren finishes a sip, nodding. “Yeah, my friend used to bartend here after college, and he always had the hook-ups. He doesn’t work here anymore, so the perks are gone, but it’s still a nice place to grab drinks.”

Your drink arrives a few minutes later, as you tell Eren about your week, omitting your previous Tinder escapades. He nods and hums to acknowledge that he’s listening, but his eyes are in deep thought, wandering from your face to your lips, down your neck with an indifferent expression. 

When you pause to have more of your cocktail, a smirk ghosts Eren’s lips. 

“So...let’s hear about this ex-boyfriend.” 

You raise a brow, taken aback. Not once did you mention Colt, so you’re at a loss as to why Eren would dig for that sort of detail.

Confused and a little peeved, you say, “That’s an awkward thing to ask about on a first date.” 

“I have a sixth sense.” Eren doesn’t parse his words. “Most women on Tinder are fresh out of a breakup and want to get under someone to forget them.” He shrugs. “Not judging at all. I’m more than happy to offer my service.”

Your brows knit together, unsure of what to do think of that. “Sounds like a hot take. I’m not going to talk about past relationships. It’s boring.”

This yields the opposite reaction you wanted from Eren. Because instead of dropping it, he leans closer, brow arched, ears peeled ready for gossip. “He was boring? How so?”

You purse your lips, averting his question. “What about you? On Tinder for a rebound hook up?”

The whore laughs, hearty and patronizing. “I’m not on the rebound.” 

“So, you’re telling me every date you’ve gone on so far was to serve as someone’s rebound?”

He shrugs again, unfazed. “Maybe not every date, but most. Again, no shade, just curious to know. I feel like I’m right though.”

Is that what you’re doing? Rebound fucks? You don’t see it that way. 

Sounds like he's just nosy. What he plans to do with any information you share about Colt, you’re not sure. But then Ymir’s voice rattles in your head from a phone conversation you had with her earlier that day.

You had just sent her screenshots of Eren’s profile.  

“Hoodrat for sure. I’d be careful, though.”

“Why? If all he wants is sex, who cares?” you had said. 

“I know you’re not interested in him like that,” Ymir continued. “What I mean is that a guy like Eren has a big ego. Game-playing, all that. Knowing you, that might get on your nerves before you get a chance to get naked with him.”

“Meaning?”

Ymir chuckled. “Meaning you’ve got an ego too.”

You wonder then if that’s why Eren’s so interested in knowing about your past relationship. Perhaps, it is a show of ego, a way for him to measure up or out-measure someone you’ve already been with. 

You busy yourself with your cocktail as Eren takes a long gulp of his negroni, green eyes flitting back to the bar. While you try to get to a better read on him, you’re unable to concentrate.

Your mind spins in circles, moving and bobbing like his Adam’s apple. He’s leaning against the barstool, in the same careless swagger. Ego or not, you hate to admit that he has every right to be full of himself.

Setting the glass down, Eren’s tongue falls out in a satiated sigh. You’re not discreet and Eren catches that. He grins, tongue swiping along his bottom lip. The metal stud sways like a pendulum. 

Your jaw slowly loosens, hooded eyes zeroed in on the piercing. 

“You like that?” Eren moves his tongue in a way that prods the stud out further. 

Oh, you like it a lot. Eren hadn’t displayed it fully on his profile, but a few pics of him laughing, you swear you caught the shine of metal in his mouth.

Recollecting your wits, you say, “Tell me about that piercing. Does it hurt?”

Eren shrugs, tapping a few fingers along the table. “Never had any complaints.”

A rush of heat soaks through your skin. You swallow, like a cat fixated on a shiny object. “I meant getting it pierced.”

He shakes his head, grin widening. “Just a little pressure when they stick it in.” This man is so shameless… “Pain is an afterthought.”

You can’t help it, your mind falls back into the gutter, deep into a rabbit hole, curious to know what a tongue like that could do between your legs. 

“I’m guessing your ex-boyfriend didn’t have a tongue piercing either?”

You deflate, irritation pricking the fantasy. “Let’s change the subject.”

“Still hurting from it?” Upon first impression, you didn’t expect Eren to channel anything other than arrogance. His softer tone is a sudden switch that you don’t realize has chipped away at your resilience to veer away from the topic. 

“Never really hurt from it,” you say, indifferent, hoping to put an end to the subject afterwards. “My routine’s changed, so that sort of sucks. I got really comfortable.”

Eren hums. “That’s dangerous. Complacency. I’m going to assume he was very vanilla too?”

You roll your eyes.  

Eren feigns innocence. “What?”  

“I don’t want to talk about breakups, past relationships, none of that…”

“Fine, what about your body count?” He snorts, again, feigning innocence when you don’t answer. “He wasn’t your only one, was he?”

You roll your eyes. Like after, there were also men before Colt. Though they didn’t compare to the roster you’ve had this week. Maybe it comes with age, but your sex life had never been better. “I’m on Tinder, what’d you think?”

This seems to shift Eren’s mood. The snark stutters across his features into a scowl. “Oh…so you’re on Tinder to hook up only?”

“Didn’t say that.”

“You’re not looking for a relationship though.” He leans back, looking scorned. “Body counts going up then.”

What’s his problem? He’s the walking incarnate of a fuckboy, but the idea of you laying up with other guys he doesn’t even know spurs this sudden attitude. You’re strangers, both single, full stop. 

He pushes his tongue against his cheek. “Is there any guy on Tinder you haven’t slept with?”

You balk, brows rising. However, the corner of your lips curl, less angry and more amused. Someone's competitive... “Are you upset that you’re not one of them?”

You expect another taste of his attitude, for his frown to deepen. You do not expect his eyes to light up, like a dare igniting. 

“Oh, you’re a brat.” He tops his drink with a grin. “That’s in my pay grade.”

You shouldn’t entertain this, you already know. You’re both far too old to be playing games for strangers that only met to inevitably hook-up. You also know you shouldn’t be turned on by this challenge across the table, green eyes and tongue-pierced. Heat gathers at the center of your thighs anyway.

“I don’t mind taming a brat,” Eren continues. 

“You’re an expert?” you challenge. “Because I don’t know what brat you’re talking about—"

His laughter cuts you short. “Oh no, you’re a brat alright. Tell me more about those Tinder hook-ups. Any of them better than that boyfriend of yours?”

At his condescending tone, your brow twitches. At the dark lust in his eyes, your thigh twitches.

“You seem really obsessed with knowing about my ex,” you say. “Are you trying to compensate for something?”

Eren tilts his head, smirk stiffening, a crack in his arrogant resolve. “Trust me,” he recovers. “I don’t need to compensate for anything.”

It’s like a bait you can’t resist, wanting to see to that promise. But you restrain yourself. Regardless of your intentions for being there, you can’t feed into ego, his or yours. However, Eren does make it difficult the more he pricks and needles. 

Eren takes your silence as an invitation to barb you more. “If I were to guess, he sucked at getting you off. That’s a shame, you’re too pretty to deal with someone like that.”

You can’t explain it, but you find yourself taking Eren’s bait, defending Colt. “He knew how to love.”

“But he didn’t know how to fuck.” He folds his arms. “You do. That’s why you’re on Tinder.”

Your blood is flushed with heat and agitation. What’s worse it that you don’t mind it, but your ego refuses to let you give him that satisfaction. As much as you would like to hook-up with Eren, you might have to cut your loss instead. 

Finishing your drink, you pucker your lips, tingling with the burn of alcohol. Eren frowns as you rise to your feet. 

“Thanks for the drink. Have a nice night.” 

Spinning a heel, you hear Eren scoff, beckoning you to come back and when you don’t, he clicks his tongue. But you don’t turn back, nor do you flinch when you hear the scrape of a barstool around the call of your name. 

“Shit—I need to close my tab—”

You’re outside, crossing the back lot when footsteps haunt your own, rushing to catch up. “Wait!” Your name spills out of Eren’s mouth. “Wait! Just—wait!”

You peer over your shoulder with surprising level-headedness, but the pulse of your wrist skips, caught in Eren’s grasp. 

Silence ensues as Eren catches his breath, fingers wrapped along your wrist to keep you from escaping. A few rogue strands have come loose along his hairline and his previous scowl inside the bar remains intact, though it has smoothed out since finding you. 

“Yeah?” You level him with the same sharp glare earlier, patience thinning and heart pounding, charged with the adrenaline. “What is it, Eren?”

He leads you a few paces towards a parked black car that you assume is his. 

“You know, you’re keeping me right now,” you say. 

Eren’s eyes snap up. “Whoever they are, they can wait.”

You scoff. “Right, because I was about to run off to my ex-boyfriend, that’s who you think is waiting for me, hm?”

At the mention of Colt, the humor resurfaces in Eren’s face, though it’s pinched with slight irritation. 

Fueled by the tension, you egg Eren on, delighting in the way his hand tightens around your wrist. 

“Like I said, he knows how to love.”

Eren snorts. “Right, right, you mean he bored you.”

“That’s what you say."

“That’s what I know.” Eren’s eyes darken, dropping your wrist to run his fingers along the side of your stomach. “He was gentle, wasn’t he? Because that’s how you like them.”

You narrow your eyes, warmth flooding your neck and gathering between your legs. “You don’t know how I like them.”

Whether it’s the heat of the moment or ego, you refuse to tell Eren that he’s right. Despite how healthy of a relationship, you and Colt had, overall, he didn’t satisfy your sexual needs. Sure, you always knew that, as did your friends. But that doesn’t mean Eren needs to hear it too. With nothing else to say, you fall silent, bristling from Eren’s touch.  

“So, I’m right,” Eren breathes as he leans closer, hands trailing south, beneath your skirt. He flicks his gaze up, and you acquiesce by not pushing him away.  

He finds the gusset of your bodysuit and raises a brow. His surprise fades away in seconds. The crotch of your bodysuit is snapped aside, and you wince. 

Fingers glide along the slit of your pussy that you fight to stand. Eren hisses a laugh, pleased to find you soaked. “Did your boyfriend make you this wet?” A knuckle presses against your center, and you release a shaky breath. “Did he?”

You mewl, shaking your head. 

“Didn’t think he did,” Eren whispers, arrogance distinct. He replaces his knuckle with his thumb as two fingers rub your folds and a third prods your entrance. 

Words evade you, dying on your tongue and you can only manage a gasp when his thumb quickens its pace. 

“Who’s making you wet then?”

The added pressure on your clit makes you gush, and the victory in Eren’s smirk makes it harder to resist his allure. 

You sputter, “Y—you.”

“Hm?” Eren’s third finger inches inside of you like a phantom touch, close but not enough to push past your walls. “Who?”

“You…Eren.” You’re so starved for more stimulation, you don’t care about your ego anymore, gladly tossing it away in exchange for relief.  

A finger slides into your pussy. You moan, tilting your hips. 

Eren breathes a laugh, tongue swiping his lip. “That’s a good little pussy.” He rewards you with another finger, pumping with enough vigor that promises to unravel you within seconds. 

Your back flattens against the side of Eren’s car, chest rising with sharp gasps. Your hooded gaze fixates on Eren’s unshaken stare. His equilibrium combined with deft fingers bring you to the edge, your pleasure almost crests. 

The pace dials down significantly, and you’re rolling back down the hill of a stable mind. Eren’s fingers continue to pump inside of you at a much slower rhythm, the pressure on your clit has reduced to featherlight.

You blink up at him, bucking your hips to reignite the dying embers in your lower belly. 

Eren’s keen on taunting you, pressing onto your clit again with renewed pressure.

Breathless, you say, “Eren, don’t stop.”

He doesn’t listen, wearing a mask of mock confusion. “Oh. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need.” His fingers pull away. 

You snatch up his wrist, a desperate plea in your grip, leveling him with a yearning gaze. “Eren, I want you to fuck me.”

Victory pulls at the corner of Eren’s lips, his hand stroking your face in a delicate manner. “You want to get out of here?”

You rise on your tiptoes, giving him a heavy nod, hypnotized by the tension crackling from your bodies.

“I can take you back to my place. Give you the best rebound fuck of your life.”

You nod again, hasty and urgent, voice lost in the rising tide of desire. 

“You want that?” Eren husks.

You swallow. “Mhm.”

Eren erases the miniscule gap with a press of his forehead against yours, a taunting glimmer in his eyes. “Too bad.”

The car door flies open, and you’re tossed inside, hitting the leather of the backseat. There’s little time to process anything, and no time to adjust your skirt that’s rolled up your thighs. Eren climbs in, pushing the fabric up. 

His mouth is on yours, sucking the air from your lungs. When he pulls back, your head spins. 

“Tinder whores don’t get fucked in private.” Sliding down, your thighs are hitched over his shoulders. “They get fucked in a parking lot.” He flashes the stud on his tongue, moving his mouth to push it out.  

Your thighs quiver, hand digging into the leather seat.

Eren’s gaze falls to your pussy, ego resting on the edge of his smile. “Shit, you should see yourself right now. You’re dripping. You want to me to treat you like a whore. You need me to have a taste, huh?”

You would like to clapback, wishing for something snippy to spill out. But it would betray the anticipation flowing through your body. Whether Eren means it or not, you enjoy his overconfidence, aching at the degradation, growing wetter from it. Colt would never entertain such a concept. 

Pride nowhere to be seen, you nod, biting your lip; pleased and pliant to be the whore he makes you out to be. 

Eren’s brows rise, grinning, nonetheless. He yanks you closer by the hips, and for a moment you’re aware of the open car door. Although the lot is empty, anyone can walk by, sneak a peek over to witness what Eren’s preparing to do to you. And you moan despite all that. 

“Time to chase that drink down.” There’s a strain to Eren’s words like he’s in need to gulp down his drool. He doesn’t, letting his tongue hang and a dribble of saliva meets the slick of your pussy. 

“Oh—oh!” You lift your head, eager to get a visual of what you’re feeling. Eren’s piercing juts out, extending that the hard metal presses onto your clit. Your hips buck up to meet the stud again. 

Eren’s mouth slots over your pussy, dragging his tongue along the slit, tongue ring grazing between your folds. It’s a foreign sensation, sparking more pleasure when it meets your clit again with a flick of his tongue.

Eren comes up, eyes deeper, richer, and lecherous. His sharp inhale sounds more like a slurp. “Fuck…you taste perfect to me.” You whine as his tongue meets your folds again, tongue ring nudging your pussy lips. “Cum on my tongue, yeah?” It falls out like a desperate demand.

“Yeah…ah!”

Eren’s tongue slides into your entrance, pushing past the flesh. You can feel the tongue ring exploring your walls, not as distinct as you expected it to be. However, it’s Eren’s technique that has you staggering close to release. 

He’s ruthless, eating you out with an insatiable appetite. Two fingers press onto your clit, swiping in a stride that sparks your pulse. 

“Ah—Eren—” You grind against his hold, climbing that peak of ecstasy. You grab hold of Eren’s hair by the bun to keep yourself steady.

Eren swaps techniques, fingers replacing his tongue to massage the spongy spot inside of you while the tip of his tongue laps at your clit. The pressure from the stud and the curling of his fingers, set you free, the world unraveling in the backseat of his car as you cry out your release.

Eren’s fingers pull away, he slurps you up as your body twitches around him, recovering from the rush of pleasure.

Your mindless as he cleans you up, hand carding into his hair lazily. 

It’s like time’s been pulled from beneath you when he resurfaces, crawling over.

Tilting his head, he smirks. “Are you still there?”

You nod slowly, head floating. Words are robbed with Eren’s mouth on yours. His tongue slides along yours, stroking you with his stud. 

Breaking apart, you and Eren catch your breaths. 

At the sight of Eren’s dark gaze, your mind returns to you, punctuated with a telltale bulge pressed against your pussy.

Pleasure renews and you shudder.

“We’re not finished yet,” Eren says.

You lick your lips, brows furrowing together to fill the blanks you’re unable to verbalize. 

Eren’s amused by your silence. “Nothing to say to me? Does my little whore need a break?”

You bite your lip again, needing more friction between your legs. Trembling thighs wrap around him.

Eren takes your chin, leveling you with a look, overflowing with confidence. “Use your words…I haven’t fucked you dumb yet.”

You shake your head, watching a flame flicker behind Eren’s eyes, a challenge sparking there. “No, now, c’mon, just fuck me already before I change my mind.”

You both know you don’t mean it, but it doesn’t stop Eren from teasing you.

His arms cage you on either side of your head, voice dripping with arrogance. “I think I’ve done my part convincing you, angel.” 

Your pussy weeps at the pet name. 

In a flash, Eren pushes away, hunched over to reach in the center console. His teeth rip into the condom’s wrapper, watching you with hunger. He undoes his belt, shoving down his boxers in haste.

His cock springs free, pearly with precum. You want to get a glimpse of his manhood, but you’re pinned to the leather. He moves so quickly, doesn’t bother to stroke himself, already rock hard and ready to burst. The condom slips on, and he draws closer, yanking your thighs in. 

The tip of his dick kisses your entrance. The pressure alone is enough warning of his size. You meet his eyes and spread your thighs as far as they can go in the tight space. 

He falls forward again, elbows bent on the seat your head lays upon, green eyes fixed on your face. He pushes into you. “Gonna mold this slutty pussy to take me.” 

The stretch pushes air from your chest in a pleased moan, and he slides in until he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

He gives you no time to adjust, doesn’t waste any to flex his ego anymore. He fucks into you hard and erratic, hovering so close to your face.

It’s an oddly intimate view, you forget that you’re being fucked in the backseat of his car in a parking lot. However, you’re a sucker for eye contact and relish his hooded gaze, bewitched by the feel of you clenching around him. 

Labored breaths fill the backseat, steaming up the windows from the passion between your bodies. 

Eren grunts out your name. “Fuck! This pussy is still so tight—”

On cue, your walls clamp down on his girth, an animalistic sound rumbles in his Eren’s throat. 

“Fuck—fuck—” Eren’s tongue pushes past your lips. He pulls away with a smile, a surprising tenderness in his eyes, contrasting his rough nature.

Eren’s hand plants itself against the fogged window, and the other travels south, rubbing your clit in a hurry. “Want you to gush over my cock.”

You writhe like a spirit reawakened, clawing at the leather interior again, and that’s when you feel it—arching your back as you cum for the second time. 

Eren’s hips slam into yours, hot pursuit of his own release that tears through him a moment later, in a long-satiated groan. 

You watch him fall apart, eyes shut, brows pinched. His jaw hangs open, giving you another peek of the tongue ring.  

A moment passes. Eren’s fingers slip from the window, arm shaking from the impact of his climax, his body sinks. 

You press your hands against his chest to keep him from crushing you. 

Eren catches himself, hovering over you. “Thanks.” He blinks at the window with a grin. “Look at that. We fogged up the place.”

Your head tilts. Fingerprints streaked along the glass, clashing with the sudden chill that enters the backseat. 

You scoff lightheartedly, reeling from the throws of passion and the excitement of having tried something daring, something you’ve always fantasized. A carnal itch has been scratched. 

Car sex. You’re a new fan.

…

Eren gives you a lift home. 

You point out your complex. “That building just before the stop sign.” 

The car rolls to a stop at the front, the engine shutting off. 

Unbuckling your belt, you pull out your keys, hand on the door.

Eren takes your other hand, reeling your attention back as you turn to him. 

He’s smug, and you can’t deny that you feel the same way. Though what he says takes you aback. 

“Um…I didn’t mean any of that by the way. You’re not a whore.”

Your shoulders slacken with the release of a faint laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t take you seriously. I didn’t mind being called one.” You bat your eyes. “Or…fucked like one.”

The corner of Eren’s lip curled, widening with pride. “I’m up for another round, any time.” He kisses your knuckles. “I’ll text you.”

Like the other guys, Eren was not a bad lay. But with him, you don’t put stock into anything he says. You’re not naïve, too mature to act like a school-girl to his charms. He’s a womanizer at heart. 

A new notch on your belt is all. 

You open the door. “Sure, have a good night.”

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[chrollohearttags]

We need more of plug eren an fast food worker y/n! That was so cute and sweet! I’d love to see where it goes 🫶🏾

🥹🥹 yes, I love this one too! Like I wanna write a full fic for this one day.

I’d like to think that once you two talked a little more and got to know one another, he’d try to charm you. Still popping up at your job more frequently. But rather than coming in to order food, he’d joke around with you and more so importantly, walk (y/n) to your car after your shift just to make sure you’re safe. Eren would have the hugest crush and proves it by texting you to make sure you’ve made it home, giving you free weed and just all these little gestures. “Don’t worry about it, pretty girl. I got you.” “I hope you have a good day at work, mama.” Despite his reputation, he’d be a whole lover boy (and not be shy about it either). He’d bring you gifts, lunch on your break and even drive you around or take you home after work. Trying to take the time to get to know you but also fighting the urge to spoil you and make you his. (He would most certainly try to take you away from that job and take care of you once you were official) 🥹Honestly, he’d want to be around you all the time. Eventually setting you as his lock screen and all. Any other girl that may have thought they had a shot? Out the door. His attention is fixated on (y/n). Yeah, such a sweetie pie.

[killbilled]

- Naomi Alderman, The Power

[cyberkitty1]

𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒

Eren Yaeger x black!fem!reader

The love story of your relationship with Eren. Including your high’s and low’s, the beginning, the middle and maybe even the end.

you sped walked to your next class, with your tote on your shoulder. it was confusing being in a place so big and unfamiliar. you stood in front of the door talking a deep deep breath before exhaling and pushing said door open.

all eyes landed on you as you looked for a seat seeing one right next to the windows going from floor to ceiling.

you sat silently gracing your laptop ready to take notes listening intently when the guy sitting to your right caught your eye, his tattoos especially. spanning from his hands to his neck. you couldn’t help but stare until he tilted his head towards you, startling you.

you cough as you switch your attention back to the lesson.

as it came to a close you started packing your bag. “hey” you heard a deep, raspy voice say. confused you turn and look in his direction. you look around for a second before muttering a simple “hello” “you new? i dont recognize your face” he says simply “ yea todays my first day actually” you scratch your neck.

“makes sense, im Eren Yeager nice to meet you.”

——

it was already winning so idc, prt 2 is already being made 😛

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[silvadour]

Attack on Titan S04E30 - Act 2 - "A Long Dream" Episode Director(s): Yuichiro Hayashi (林 祐一郎) & Tokio Igarashi (五十嵐 季旺) Chief Episode Director: Jun Shishido (宍戸 淳) Screenplay: Hiroshi Seko (瀬古 浩司) Key animator: Arifumi Imai (今井 有文) Storyboarder(s): Arifumi Imai (今井 有文) & Yuichiro Hayashi (林 祐一郎)