#bc ymir is with her Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[clfixationstation]

the girls are back!!

Historia's genuine grin!!

[scionshtola]

new casual glam (ft. tiny shtola)

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 8 - 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.

um. hi. i am so nervous about posting this i could die, not because anything too significant happens, but it's been so long. this is not a super action-y chapter, but it's necessary, so bare with me. there's a good bit between the lines, so if anything's confusing, hit up my ask box or just hit me up to chat bc i love this story. we're getting close to the end, but i am .... sad about it. i love this eren. i love much ado. without further theatrics from me.... enjoy!!!!! <3

specific cws: swearing, mentions of drug use, alcohol, mentions of sex

want to catch up? series masterlist here<3

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“Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by.” - The Two Gentlemen of Verona by William Shakespeare (Act III, Scene 1)

“It’s about time you got up! I got bagels from– oh, hey,” Historia falters when she catches sight of you and Eren, finally having made your first appearance for the day even though it’s well past 10:00.

“You again?” Ymir says with a snicker, walking past Historia with the aforementioned bagels swinging beside her legs with every step.

“Ymir!” Historia hisses, shooting you an apologetic look. Your face warms, knowing exactly what you look like right now: hair a mess, bruises covering your neck and chest, and the telltale sheen of guilt practically glowing in a halo around your head. Eren’s not much better off; there are angry red scratches down his entire back under his hoodie, and his eyes are hooded and heavy with that satisfied, I just got laid glimmer to them. He looks good like this, you think, sluggish and weighted down with the work he’d put in on your body all night and all morning. Cocky and satiated.

“Where are the bagels from?” You peek into the bag that Ymir dropped on the counter, shaking yourself out of your private admiration and sidestepping the obvious elephant in the room in favor of filling your grumbling stomach.

“That place on Melrose, but I only got three…” Historia looks sheepishly to Eren in apology.

“He’s on his way out,” you answer for him. Eren nods affirmatively, shuffling over to the doorway where his enormous sneakers are thrown alongside a small collection of yours and Historia’s shoes.

“Leaving so soon?” Ymir’s eyebrows raise in uncharacteristic interest, looking between you and Eren, who don’t seem able to truly meet each other’s eyes.

“Busy,” Eren grunts, slipping his shoes on, “I’ll see you–”

“Tuesday, right?” You say around a mouthful of bagel, still not quite meeting his gaze.

“Tuesday,” Eren looks to the sky like he’s mentally penciling you in to his schedule, nodding after a moment, “got it.”

“Merry Christmas!” You call out as he makes his exit, throwing a hand up in acknowledgement and farewell. A few heavy seconds of silence pass, the only sound in the room being the noisy smacking of the cream cheese bagel that you’re practically inhaling as Historia stares at you.

“That was…awkward,” Historia starts cautiously. You frown at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen two people that just fucked look less like they want to be in the same room,” Ymir says from the couch, punctuating her statement with a sharp laugh, “I mean, is it that awkward when you have sex?”

“It wasn’t awkward,” you cross your arms defensively, narrowing your eyes, “we’re just…casual.”

“Eren looked sort of tense,” Historia adds thoughtfully, a little line of worry appearing between her eyebrows.

“I’m sure his family’s been talking to him a bunch with the holidays coming up. Maybe that’s it, I wouldn’t know,” you shrug, not meeting Historia’s gaze. You can almost feel her smug, understanding nodding, seeing right through you.

“So you’re still not talking, then.”

“Of course we talk. You just watched us talk.”

“Not like you used to,” Historia counters, crossing her arms.

“So?” You scoff, letting your annoyance erupt in the form of tearing your bagel into little bite-sized pieces. Historia’s right, she’s right way too often for you to live with.

“You liked him. A lot. And he liked you. What happened?”

“You never told us,” Ymir echoes from the couch, “the last thing you told me at least was that you and Sasha went to Scout’s, Eren practically fought Floch, you slept with him for some reason after that, and the next thing we know, he’s here every morning.”

“Not every morning,” you mumble, rolling your eyes petulantly.

“That doesn’t matter,” Historia says impatiently, waving Ymir off, “it’s been weeks of…I don’t even know what to call it– this weird, awkward no-talking just-fucking thing. What happened?”

“We made up,” you shrug, staring at her blankly, “we’re fuck buddies. It’s not something that needs to be, like, picked apart and analyzed.”

“It absolutely does,” Historia argues, “you went from making goo-goo eyes at each other and staying up all night hogging the couch to what may the be the weirdest fuck-buddy relationship I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“It’s not weird,” you groan, throwing your hands over your eyes in exasperation.

“Is it Breeze?”

“What?” you hiss, pulling your hands from your face to narrow your eyes at Ymir, “what would this have to do with her?”

“I heard she’s staying for awhile, just moved into those snazzy new apartments across from the farmer’s market.” Ymir is either unaware of or unphased by your immediate aggression. She delivers her statement matter-of-factly, twirling one of her many rings idly. Her nonchalance makes you prickle, and Historia notices.

“Is it Breeze?” Historia asks, watching your reaction carefully. “Are she and Eren talking again? Or is he with you?”

“I don’t know what Eren does in his free time,” you roll your eyes, “much less if he’s got anything going on with Breeze right now. It’s not my business.”

“Granted, I don’t see how he could even find the time to deal with Breeze with how often he’s over here,” Ymir scoffs.

“Don’t you two have packing to do?” you ask in a desperate attempt to change the conversation topic. Luckily, Ymir takes the bait.

“We finally finished,” she shoots Historia a meaningful glance, “but our flight doesn’t leave for another four hours, so we don’t need to head to the airport until noon.”

Great. Your patience has already worn thin with the both of them for the day, and just as you’re formulating a plan to bid them goodbye and drag your exhausted body into a shower, Historia jumps ahead of you with yet another question that you don’t necessarily want to answer.

“Have you heard from your mom?”

“Bits and pieces,” you answer, twiddling the hem of your t-shirt between your fingers, “she and Tom are in Costa Rica right now.”

“No invite?” Ymir questions wryly, cocking an eyebrow. Historia shoots her a reprimanding glare, but Ymir’s callous humor is exactly what you need at the moment.

“Of course not,” you say with a chuckle, shrugging, “but she sent me some sweet pictures. They’re cute together.”

“I think Tom is my favorite of the recent boyfriends,” Historia concedes with a small smile.

“He’s definitely better than that asshole from Dubai, that’s for sure.” Ymir nods affirmatively, the unspoken voice of reason in relation to your mother’s dating life.

A few minutes of idle chit chat later, you’re able to excuse yourself to shower, ducking behind the curtain and into the steaming, nonjudgmental spray of water. Your theory these days is that turning the water up to an unbearable heat may scald the weight of everything on your mind off of your shoulders. It hasn’t worked yet, but you’ll keep trying.

Christmas isn’t your favorite season by any means, not since your parents’ divorce. It’s a solitary season for you, one for contemplation and baking. You don’t not enjoy spending Christmas’ alone; after so many years, you’ve started your own little traditions, and while you know the concept of someone spending Christmas alone is objectively sad, you’ve grown to prefer your own company over that of your mother and her boyfriend of the year. She’ll send you her American Express information along with a text to “Go crazy! Anything your little heart desires!” and you’ll spend Christmas Eve playing Santa for yourself, watching movies, and stuffing your face with whatever sugary treat you decide to throw together.

Okay, maybe it is a little sad, but it’s your tradition.

Ymir and Historia leave for the airport, and unsurprisingly, Historia begs you to catch a flight to come with them because “No one should be alone on Christmas!”. You only falter when Ymir begrudgingly extends an invitation, the first year in the three you’ve known them that she’s done so. Ymir shrugs and blushes when you and Historia stare at her in disbelief, claiming it’s because you seem like you have a lot on your mind. She’s not wrong, but you wave them off to Ymir’s parents’ anyway, assuring them you’ll Facetime on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, just to check in.

You don’t consider Historia’s offer until you’ve curled up under a blanket, the fifth or sixth mind-numbing, standard Christmas movie you’d selected not quite doing the trick of silencing your thoughts. You open your phone, pull up your recent texts; maybe reaching out to someone for some lazy, technology-driven conversation will do the trick.

First is Historia, per usual, sending you a barrage of selfies of her and Ymir’s family playing a board game. Even in your melancholy state, the sight of Ymir with her mouth stretched comically wide around a plastic game piece, scowling through her ridiculous expression, makes you snort to yourself.

Second is your mother, sending you an update about her and Tom’s dinner reservation getting canceled amidst short-staffing at the resort restaurant. You roll your eyes at that one; for your mother, the end of the world will surely present itself as a minor inconvenience at a five-star establishment.

Third is Sasha, checking in amidst the holiday season. She tells you that Hitch loved the little self-care package that she put together as a thoughtful, but casual Christmas gift. You text your congratulations back to her, feeling an unfair pang of envy hitting you.

Fourth is…oh, god, you shouldn’t have let yourself get this far. Eren. He’s still saved in your phone as “Eren 10 Shadows User Jaeger”; instead of making you giggle, his idiotic, self-placed contact name only makes a hollow thud ring through the confines of your empty chest. Feeling a bit like twisting the knife, you start scrolling through your texts, frowning at how short and unsubstantial each message is.

> Outside.

> tonight? 10ish?

> Be there in 10.

> i can venmo you for the doordash

> Don’t worry ab it.

The most painful part of all of it is, if you scroll just a bit further, back into the crisper autumn months, the messages aren’t so dry. In fact, in hindsight, Eren seems smitten with you. The messages still give you butterflies.

> Are you in your office was gonna pick up 104 otw to yours but I don’t want it to get cold.:)

> Is developing the six eyes the key to getting you to like me as much as you like Gojo?

> Just did a drop at the library and spied you w your kiddos across the room I didn’t say hey bc I didn’t want you to yell at me (bc youre rude) but you look HOT.

> Got your fav cookie dough to soften the blow for you when we start shibuya arc tonight be there in 10 nerd.

You groan and toss your phone to the other end of the couch, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. What are you doing? Why can’t you just talk to him, tell him that he’s all you think about, that every time he touches you, you swear that it burns an imprint into your skin?

Because it’s not real, your mind helpfully supplies. Breeze. Luke. Rumors. You’re clearly not over Luke if you drunkenly texted him that night at Paradis, right? Or maybe you’re projecting your old feelings for Luke onto Eren? Is that really something you’re prepared to gamble with?

And if you weren’t mess enough, Eren’s only been the commitment type for one woman in his life; out of the many that you know have rotated in and out, your statistical chance of becoming the second is slim. Not to mention the fact that the only woman he’s ever committed to has just moved in a whopping five minutes down the road from you, and is apparently interested in re-opening doors that you had assumed were closed.

With a huff, you grab your phone from where it's nestled into the cushions and check the time. 11:04pm. Still plenty of time to run down to the bodega and scrounge around for some cookie dough, maybe a cheap bottle of wine.

That’s motivation enough to shake you out of your wallowing state, and after you’ve pulled a pair of slouchy gray sweatpants over your pj shorts and thigh-high socks, you’re shoving your feet into some slippers and shuffling down the street, arms crossed over your chest in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the biting wind. The shock of the cold numbs you to the bone, a welcome reprieve from the watery, shaky feeling that’s been brewing in your chest all night. You storm through it, noticing your breathing get a little looser with every step, feeling very much like you could stay out here all night, leave all of your problems cooped up in your lonely little apartment.

The bodega’s a certifiable ghost town, as expected. You only have your lucky stars to thank that the owners aren’t religious and are willing to stay open this late the night before Christmas Eve. You give a weak wave to the heavyset man behind the counter, a gesture that he doesn’t return. Figures.

Luckily, with most of the students on campus having left for home days ago, the shelves and refrigerators are still mostly-stocked with everything you’ll need. Item 1: cookie dough. A pack of the Pilsbury reindeer sugar cookies should do nicely; delicious and small enough that eating the entire package won’t depress you too much. Item 2: cheap wine. You round the corner a bit too quickly in your excitement, running headfirst into a tall stranger that you didn’t notice upon entering the store.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t–” your voice cuts itself off as the man in question’s irritation slowly slides off of his face. A tentative murmur of your name comes through wind-chapped lips, bloodshot eyes widening in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” Eren’s brow crinkles almost comically, furrowing into a frustrated little divot between his reddened eyes as he tries to make sense of why you’re standing in front of him. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Technically not for another forty minutes,” you counter, checking your watch, “and I could ask you the same thing.”

“You know me, not exactly the family type.” Eren shrugs, a bit of the tension melting off of him. And he isn’t wrong; you do know. During the period of yours and Eren’s less-complicated friendship, he had divulged little bits and pieces of his home life, not enough to give you the full picture, but at least enough that you feel like an ass for not realizing why he was spending Christmas alone. Dead mother, asshole father, overbearing stepmom, try-hard brother. You can’t exactly blame him.

He looks heartbreakingly soft; wrapped in one of his classic massive hoodies, hair tucked beneath a cozy beanie, nose and cheeks kissed slightly pink from the cold winter winds. He’s clearly stoned, eyes heavy, muted, and slow-moving as he looks down at you. It’s all you can do to hold yourself back from cupping his face, breathing warmth back into him. Your fingers clutch a little tighter around the cookie dough in your hand, mimicking the swell of emotion that chokes your heart in your chest.

“Right, sorry.”

“That brings us back to square one. What are you doing here?”

The longing for closeness in your heart hasn’t quite outweighed the sadness and awkwardness of the situation, and you opt to deflect again. Unhealthy, but functional. “Buying wine.”

“And cookie dough?” Eren raises an eyebrow at your currently-occupied left hand. “Did you just get dumped by Santa?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No. It’s my Christmas tradition.”

When Eren’s gaze softens into something thoughtful, green eyes raking painfully over your bundled-up form, you realize you’ve let your guard down. Even that simple statement has bared something to him, given him yet another piece of you to hold– maybe to drop. It sends a nervous chill over you, and you drop your eyes to the floor amidst a pregnant moment of understanding silence.

“Here.”

You flit your gaze back up to Eren’s outstretched hand. He’s holding a bottle of Pinot Grigio– your favorite kind of cheap Pinot Grigio, at that. When you dare to look up at his face, you can’t read it, no surprise there, but if you had to guess? Something like warmth, something like the beginnings of a familiarity you hadn’t realized had been growing.

When you hesitate to take it, a little too long apparently, Eren pulls the bottle back up to his face, squinting at it, and moving it further and closer from his face. With a stuttered chuckle, you realize he’s trying to read the label.

“Is this not the one? I swear I saw it in your fridge–”

“No, that’s it.” You reach up and pull the bottle from him, momentarily shaken out of your stupor. “Where are your glasses? Were you planning on stumbling around the bodega asking the clerk to read all the labels for you?”

“I left ‘em at your house forever ago,” Eren admits, a bashful hand running over the back of his neck, “keep forgetting to grab them on my way out.”

“That’s right.” Your face grows warm at the mention of Eren– the same Eren who’s in front of you, adorably bundled up and cheeks pink with embarrassment– in your home. The things Eren’s been doing in your home as of late.

More like I’m not giving you enough time to grab them, you reflect with a grimace. Eren’s presence in your life has been hot and momentary over the last weeks since your run-in at Scout’s; you’ve made a habit of not keeping him around long enough for conversation, pleasantries, even so much as nabbing those readers out of your nightstand. Even after this short interaction, a vicious stroke of memory reminds you why you’ve kept your distance– Eren’s charming. He’s thoughtful, he’s kind, he’s funny, he’s so careful with you sometimes it makes your fingers shake. And now, with him beginning to turn away from you, giving you a sad and half-hearted goodbye and preparing himself to check out with whatever meager snacks he’s gathered, you don’t think you can keep observing your emotional vigil anymore.

The first flutters of snow have begun to coat the ground and there’s a cold, Christmas wind rattling at the shop windows and you’re holding the bottle of wine to your chest so hard you might be bruising your ribs when you decide to take a chance on him.

“Eren!”

He turns on his heel slowly, as if he’s about to raise his hands and call a truce. His eyes betray nothing but confusion, but if you squint, if you let yourself believe just a bit…you want to believe that he looks a little hopeful.

“Do you…do you want to come over?”

“Right now?” Eren cocks his head in disbelief. It crushes you a little how far out of the realm of possibility it’s become for you to just…want to spend time with him. The blow to your ego and his lack of immediate response nearly bring your newfound courage to its knees, but you push on.

“I can’t eat all of these by myself,” you lie, “and I have better food than that in my pantry.”

Eren eyes the two bags of chips he’s holding in one hand, looks back at you almost like he’s waiting for the punchline. You do your best to smile in a friendly, I-totally-won’t-cry-later-if-you-say-no type of way and snatch another bottle of wine off the shelf.

“I think they’re two-for-one anyway,” you say with an airy chuckle, “no one needs to be alone on Christmas.”

A shaky smile shatters Eren’s hesitant expression, and he cocks an eyebrow, raises his hooded eyes to the sky like he’s thinking it over. “Uh…yeah, I guess I have room in my schedule to keep you company.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” you scoff, the relief viscerally warming you from your growing smile to your fingertips, “and you’re buying after that one.”

“Some fucked up plan you got there,” Eren chuckles to himself, placing your wine and snacks on the counter, “tracking your fuck buddy down at the bodega and guilting him into buying you wine and snacks.”

“Eren,” you hiss, smacking him in retribution, masking the burn of his choice of words with embarrassment. It’s true, you’ve both wordlessly agreed upon it, but the reminder stings. You shoot an apologetic look to the clerk, but he’s entirely apathetic, reciting the total to Eren in a monotone voice. Your unnecessary chagrin only makes Eren giggle harder, earning him an eye roll from you.

The short walk back to your car is filled with some intentional tightrope walking between unnecessary etiquette (Eren insisting upon walking with you to your apartment, saying he’ll grab his car later; you pulling your Venmo app up, trying to assure him that making him pay was a joke) and the banter that you’d established between yourselves upon first meeting, the easy conversation you used to enjoy whenever you liked. Even as you both lull into that familiar rhythm of jokes, stomping through the light dusting of snow side-by-side, you can feel the precariousness of it all. Who’s going to be the first to decide that you’re too close? Who’s going to run away? Who’s going to wish they had run after them?

“Smells nice in here,” Eren remarks, bending down to tug at the laces of his heavy Docs once he’s made it past the threshold of your door.

“It’s about to smell even better.” Suddenly overcome with nervous jitters that Eren’s in your apartment with no part of his mouth on you, you scurry over to the oven to begin preheating it, urgently in need of something to do with your hands.

“Where’s ‘Stor?” Eren ambles along behind you, seemingly far more at ease than you judging by the way he slouches against the counter.

“Ymir’s parents have them come up that way every year.”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“It’s their thing.” You try to disguise the sudden tightness in your voice with a tinny note of disbelief, as if Eren should have inherently known that you elected this lonely Christmas celebration. “Hand me a baking sheet?”

“Where?”

“Down there.”

Your intonation must have carried the desired effect because Eren doesn’t press the matter further, following your instructions and producing a rectangular pan from one of the lower cabinets of your kitchen. You work wordlessly and in tandem with one another. Eren produces two wine glasses when he sees you scrounging around in the drawer for a corkscrew; he begins to scoop healthy dollops of cookie dough from the package with the spoon you hand him as you pour two not-so-healthy glasses of wine for you both. The silence is interrupted by Eren’s poorly-muffled snickers when he watches you take your first sip of wine.

“What?”

“Am I that bad?” Eren directs a playful, but meaningful, glance at your wine glass, a fourth of which you’ve just knocked back in one sip. You feel your cheeks warming, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Has nothing to do with you. Just…thirsty.”

"Is it awkward? Me being here?"

"I invited you," you say, not quite wanting to acknowledge that, yes, being around him fully-clothed is a little strange. It isn't an unwelcome strangeness, but you're not about to let that little confession fly either.

“We used to be friends,” Eren muses quietly, uncharacteristically outspoken. That makes your eyes widen; you almost wonder if he’s spoken without meaning to.

“We’re still friends,” you murmur against the rim of your glass, taking another large swig. Eren shrugs, very focused on portioning out the cookie dough. “We are.”

“I know.” Something about his voice shatters you, makes your fingers grip around your glass tight enough to break. You can almost see the self-provided rejection flitting across his face; it’s quick, but it’s cold enough to feel.

“Eren–”

“Friends.” Eren’s eyes flit over towards you in a gesture of laying arms down, and his lips tighten in a smile that threatens you to challenge the tentative peace he’s building between you both. The word stings when it hits you, bittersweet and ironic. Another fourth of your wine disappears in a single sip, and you smile back in a way that you hope looks more kind than it feels disparaged.

The cookies are baked, the necessary seating arrangements are settled upon, the glasses are refilled, and soon you’re snuggled up on the right side of your couch, feet stretched into Eren’s lap, practically dozing off to a Christmas romcom. Eren is, surprisingly, enthralled, intensely focused on the television and leaning forward in a way that’s bending your ankles uncomfortably but is too adorable to tell him to stop.

“So he’s not going to chase her?” Eren turns to you, devastated and frowning a bit. You snort into your second glass, finding his furrowed brow and flushed cheeks funnier than the mayhem that’s been building on the screen for the last hour.

“You have to watch!” You kick him meaningfully.

Eren receives your kick like a child, groaning dramatically and shooting you a look cold enough to kill. He throws himself back into the couch, absentmindedly taking one of your sock-covered feet in his massive hands and kneading his thumbs into the arch of your foot. He presses into a particularly tender spot, working a soft groan of appreciation from you; Eren’s lips tighten, and he subtly moves your heels a little further away from his crotch, but he doesn’t stop his ministrations. He rubs firm circles into the sides of your ankles, running a thumb up your leg to the back of your knee, beginning to extend his massage up your leg.

A breathy moan falls from your lips, and though he doesn’t turn to look at you, the corner of Eren’s mouth quirks up.

“Feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes fluttering shut. You can hear the rustle of Eren’s hair against the couch as he nods, the movie now long faded away into your peripheral focus.

Just as you’re beginning to truly melt into yourself, scooching just the littlest bit towards Eren so he can start rubbing at your thighs, something glimmers into your consciousness. Eren’s your fuck buddy, he said it himself at the store. The gooey, soft emotion that’s welling in your chest, the thing that’s rendering you spineless and malleable that you don’t dare to name– it’s unseemly. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck and causing your eyes to fly open.

Something sickly and sour curls behind your ribs, darkening the contented little glow that had begun to grow there. You feel sick, you feel sixteen again, you feel like a lamb being fattened up for the slaughter. Eren’s not Prince Charming; he’s your fuck buddy, just like he said. You’d done a thorough job of establishing that dynamic, and you remember that as sweet as everything around you might taste, it’s artificial. He’s here for something.

Eren doesn’t notice the change in your demeanor, the stiffening in your muscles; not until you’re climbing into his lap, at least.

“What are you–”

You cut him off by slotting your lips against his, gripping into his shirt with such a fervor that the self-loathing behind it could be confused for mindless want. Eren hesitantly reciprocates, hands sliding down your waist and landing firmly at your hips, leaving a soft impression in the skin there. You rake your fingers through his hair, kissing him deeper and more frantically, bringing your hands down to tug at the hem of your sweatshirt–

“Hey.” Eren’s quiet voice against your lips freezes you where you are, fingers still twisted in the bottom of your shirt.

“What?”

“What’s all this?” Eren’s hand is against your cheek, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes. It’s so gentle it nearly burns, scalds against the cold, callous arousal you’ve built up in yourself.

“I don’t understand.” Your voice is weak, all the fire you’ve contrived fizzling out as your words cross the barely-there gap between your mouth and Eren’s. Your hands fall into the space shared between your laps, fingers curling and uncurling to mask the tremble running through them. Your gaze stays fixed on them, monitoring for any visible signs of weakness, unable to glance up to meet Eren. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Eren murmurs, forehead pressed unwaveringly against yours, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It was nice,” Eren says, a little breathless and disbelieving, “it was nice before.”

“So don’t you want…this?”

“I mean, yes. I always want this,” Eren punctuates his statement with an airy chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, “but I don’t always need it.”

“I feel like I upset you.” You can’t stop the embarrassed frown from working its way onto your face amidst your confusion. This…this is what you and Eren do. Now that it’s been refused, you don’t know where to put your wandering hands, where to tuck the rush of needing to touch him.

“I’m not upset,” Eren says, still barely audible as he thumbs at your chin, “you made my shitty day a lot less shitty, actually.”

“Why was it shitty?”

“My dad.” Something dark and coarse has infused his voice now, rasping against the warm air between you. Despite the rough tone of his voice, Eren’s moving a hand up and down your back soothingly, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. It works– your body goes slack in his hold, slumping against his chest and nuzzling your nose into his shoulder. “Won’t bore you with the details.”

“Tell me.”

“You don’t want to–”

“I do.” You pull back from where he’s pinned you, bringing your forehead back to rest against his. “Even if I’m just your fuck buddy. You can talk to me.”

Eren sighs, heavy and resigned. Even with your vision blurred by how close you are to him, you can see a wry smile twisting the corner of his mouth. “You’re not my fuck buddy.”

“I know. Friends, right?” You hardly dare to breathe against him, heart thudding viciously in your throat to the point that you worry Eren might hear. It’s not a word that encompasses what you feel for him, the mess you’ve both created between yourselves, but it’s your scapegoat, your fallback. No matter how many times you catch his lingering glance as he leaves you in the morning, no matter how often you delve into a bottle of wine and hover your thumb over his contact, no matter how closely he haunts your every thought. Friends.

The hint of a smile disappears from his face. Eren shakes his head against yours, fingers ghosting along your thigh, up your arm until he lands his hand over yours, curls them together in a loose fist against his chest.

“No.” You aren’t sure that you’ve heard him correctly, how quietly he speaks.

“No?”

“No,” Eren confirms, tightening his grip around your hand, “we’re not friends.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the same time Eren’s eyes flit up to meet yours, doubling down on the little confession he’s breathed into you. You’re powerless to do anything under the weight of your fear, your relief, your confusion. It’s enough for now, the understanding that no, you’re not friends and maybe you’ve never been, hanging between you and making the air a little more palatable.

“Not friends.” A little nod from you draws a shaky exhale from Eren, an answering nod of his own, and it feels like you both have mutually agreed to set whatever’s been building, whatever’s too-hot-to-touch, to the side for the time being. It’s enough.

He holds you, and you let him, despite the growing ache in your hips, the restlessness of your feet as they fall asleep. Eren tells you about his father, the career path he’s still afraid to go down. You tell him about your mother, how the emotional distance between you always manages to somehow be greater than the geographical, how love is her number one priority except when it comes from you. Both of you listen in reverence as you map out your scars for each other, delving into what’s healed and skating carefully over the parts that are still tender.

The couple on-screen reunites with a zoom shot and a dramatic kiss in the Christmas snow. The soaring orchestral number that accompanies their reunification is one that’s just loud enough to cover the sound of you and Eren’s hearts beating in tandem, and the clatter of his phone vibrating repeatedly on the kitchen counter.

[sleepy-sham]

Having a grand time imagining AOT characters in the Olympics:

Obviously Sasha would do archery

I'm picturing Jean & Connie as a famed beach volleyball duo which brings me great joy

Bertholdt's tall ahh could play basketball. Same with Ymir (Freckles) & Yelena

Reiner as a wrestler & Annie as a boxer

Historia in artistic gymnastics. I think balance beam would be her best event. I think Pieck & Petra are also on the team: Petra's best event is uneven bars & Pieck's is vault--she's known for being tiny but still getting great height. Also I can see Marcel & Porco Galliard as male gymnasts. They're a famed duo bc they get very competitive in individual events against each other but always bring home the win for the team event

If Gabi were old enough OBVIOUSLY she'd be a sharpshooter. I think Floch would be too. Specifically Gabi doing air rifle and Floch doing air pistol.

Eren I'm struggling with. I love soccer player Eren but I kinda wanna give him something else? Something more unique since the Olympics feature such a myriad of different sports. Idk please let me know if you have thoughts on this!!!

The Ackermans I also struggle with since they would dominate at essentially anything they competed in. I like Levi as a fencer though. Mikasa I'm still ruminating on (again please tell me your thoughts if you have any). Maybe she could play indoor volleyball?

Erwin is a famed Olympic swimmer who set a lot of records in his youth. Miche was on his relay team. Erwin was the flag bearer for Paradis several years bc he was one of their most famous athletes ever. Then he was in a terrible car accident and lost his arm. Everyone assumed that was it for him but Erwin never quits. He's now the face of the Paralympic games.

Another obvious one is Zeke in baseball (which they don't have in this Olympiad☹️)

I like Nanaba as a long distance runner or triathlete

Oluo, Eld, & Gunther are all equestrians

Colt is a young swimmer. Erwin is his idol. Niccolo is also a swimmer

Idk where it came from but the words "Onyankapon" & "shotput" just popped into my head & I like it. I think he'd look sick af throwing a shotput even if doesn't have the typical build of a shotputter. Maybe a medium distance runner?

Moblit does table tennis. He seems so calm & collected & chill but he gets in a ping pong match & he's like Mose & Dwight in that one episode of The Office

Armin is a cyclist. I can't decide indoor or outdoor. But definitely normal cycling, like, not mountain biking or anything. I think he'd look so cute in a bike helmet with his face all serious & focused:3

I cannot figure out Hange. I want her to do something truly wacky. Comment what you think the craziest summer Olympic sport is

[queenbeehistoria]

BOO ! - aot girls on halloween 🎃

the queen's word: hey, bugaboos! sorry for the long wait. school's been beating tf outta me. life got me feeling like i just got jumped by chrisean and tesehki. chile... anyways! i wanted to do something for halloween since it's coming up! hope y'all enjoy, bugaboos <3

MIKASA: she's either in the house or she's with armin & eren. if nobody's hitting her up, she's watching horror movies all night. eren brings her to some haunted house (they gotta convince armin to come in because my man is scared shitless). if she does go out, she def dresses in her full goth attire. other than that, she just eats candy & watches horror movies.

SASHA: trick or treater 100%. she goes to them rich, white neighborhoods bc they got the CANDY CANDY. please move your children. this girl is on a fucking mission & your kid is getting pushed out the way so she can go the next house. she sees those take one buckets and goes fucking HAM. "i only took half :)" and it's like five pieces in the bucket left.

ANNIE: hitch drags her to these random ass halloweekend parties. she wears normal clothes & says she's dressing as herself. either that, or it's some cheap costume she got from party city. reiner & berth is also dragging her to these haunted attractions they seen somewhere. this girl just wants to go home and watch a movie. however, she does go trick or treating or just gets candy from the store.

HISTORIA: her and ymir got matching costumes. she been working on them since july. she making sure her house decorated, all her social media layouts changed, shimmer pot on the stove. this halloween shit is not a game to her. shit gets serious. they def hit up downtown & go to halloween parties.

YMIR: she stay scaring everybody. she gets these weird ass masks from these halloween shops & just scare everybody. ymir mean mugging tf outta anyone that's staring at historia for too long.

HITCH: MY GIRL IS OUTSIDEEEEEEEE. yk when they said on mean girls that the bad bitches wear the lingerie and animal ears? that's hitch. she don't give af that it's 61 degrees outside. she's popping tf out. just young and turnt, tf?? she usually ends up drunk asf in the back of her car. she immediately wakes up to a police officer at her window.

YELENA: the reason y'all kids gotta check their candy. she doesn't even add anything in the candy. kids saying trick or treat, she opens the door talking about some "trick" and just gives them that creepy ass stare. kids run off before she even gets the candy out. got those kids scared for they life.

PIECK: every single year, she's the girl from the ring. it's only for the sole fact that she loves scaring tf outta porco by just crawling. this is something she takes enjoyment in. porco finds it far from funny.

[eremikas-bby]

AOT Freshman Year Headcanons✨

(as collective, chaotic things I've witnessed)

Eren- He offered the door to his crush but got nervous and annoyed of the butterflies, so he slammed the door in front of them.

Mikasa- Arrived at school at 5AM, just to satisfy her habit of reading in the dark. Let's say she did achieve her very-dream of being a gothic princess as screams echoed the room when opened. [Let's be real, who wouldnt be creeped tf out with someone with pale skin, black clothes, dead eyes, and a cold voice in a dark, suffocating, traumatic classroom? Our girl became an epitome of a white lady.]

Armin- Cried for having an 95%, like bro bffr he's the highest of the batch, but just because of the singular item on how he wasn't able to apply the Proportional Congruence Postulate thoroughly, he'll whine about it for the rest of the week.

Sasha- Prepares a full-course meal to school in the morning and at the same time, begs people for food, possibly asking money to splurge it on more snacks.

Connie- Hacked into the principal's computer to help Jean with the stalking cuz his beloved friend wont stfu about a certain someone. (Spoiler alert, didn't get caught.)

Jean- fell in love with a caring ass teacher after seeing her dolled up for an event after school.

Ymir- Was advised by a morality teacher to go to Confession, read the Bible everyday, pray the Rosary after every meal, and seek mental help LMFAO

Historia- Volunteered to clean the dishes after cooking class.

Reiner- Had a mental, spiritual, identity, sexuality, and a mid-life crisis amidst a career talk.

Pieck- Slept through 3 periods without getting caught.

Hange-Explained Covalent, Ionic, and Metallic Bonds using formulas at a class discussion. They explained it so passionately and excitedly that no one, not even the teacher understood because bestie was just that advanced 💀 HELP

Erwin- Listened to podcasts to apply to a planned and perfected presentation.

Levi- Didn't sleep at an exam week with the help of 5 literal Liters of Coffee just to prove Hange's scientific theories on the negative effects of sleep deprivation wrong.

Yelena- Joined the basketball varsity team without knowing anything a single bit about basketball to impress a crush and actually passed. (Just bc of bro’s height privileges)

--------------------------------------------------

A/N: I miss aot so much. Even if the seasons have changed, I'm still in disbelief that its over. To feed in my delusions, this is how I cope with the grief.)

===================================================

[dumblemonchickenwing]

.

It's true that cycle continues, it's true that there will always be cruel people and cruelty in the world.

But saying that everything was for nothing is wrong because the show repeatedly showed it is not true.

The underlying message was that the world is Beautiful (while also being cruel) and that things Can be different (as in better) than how they used to be.

Sasha's father said something that resonated with the show really well: It's us adults' responsibility to shoulder the sins and lead the children out of the forest. or something along those lines

How even in season 3, when the corps defended the walls from Reiss titan, things were Different from how they had been when Eren's mother was eaten and they couldn't do anything. It showed that those children Eren saw behind the walls wouldn't have to repeat Eren's fate because they Knew what they should do and had the power needed for it.

How Gabi, despite being filled with hatred and obsessed with the idea of eradicating her enemies (like Eren was), managed to grow past that and strive for happiness and peace and to help those she loved.

How even in the after credit scene, the boy who walked in under the tree similarly to how Ymir did 2000 years ago, it was different because, when Ymir did so bc she had no choice, the boy did it out of his own free will. (i saw the comment on YT point that out, i will put it up if i find it)

Things repeat, and certain people never change and certain people will put others down, but things Do change, and there will always be certain people who move past hatred and have the strength to do Something to make a small change for better.

Niccolo : "The world is like this because there's a devil in all of us." Gabi: "Then what should we do?" Niccolo: "Escape the forest. Even if we can't, we've gotta keep trying."

[blis00ya]

eruhan family

my most ambitious modern au headcanon for my most precious rarepair, the lineup for their children was finalized 230911 bcs 9 kids soothe my eyes

the family tree: hange-smith

the parents: erwin smith and zoe hange

bit of a background: they were classmates during kindergarten and he immediately grew a crush on her, but he had to go back to the UK due to his family's business. they met again during college and immediately hit it off and started dating despite a 3-year age difference.

hailing from a big family, zoe wanted to recreate it; crushing on zoe so hard, erwin wanted it too.

he eventually inherited his parents' companies and she became a scientist in many fields.

irish twins: eren and armin

while eren was planned, armin was definitely NOT. the former was a honeymoon baby while the latter... well, blame erwin! they have a 1-year age gap.

zoe thought of their names because she wanted it to sound like erwin's name. eren's green eyes are from both his grandmothers' eyes which made him all the more adored while armin took all of erwin's features, making him erwin's favorite. zoe was the main caretaker of the two but they're undeniably daddy's boys.

eren will be a firefighter and armin the sole heir of erwin's businesses.

the golden child: sasha

sasha was born 5 years later, inheriting all of zoe's features which erwin absolutely loved, making him see that she does no wrong in his eyes.

the couple decided to concentrate on the irish twins before having her who was her brothers' dream come true since they had been wishing for a sister. she's spoiled rotten and eremin does not allow her to do any household chores despite teaching her how. zoe was her main caretaker but she's both a daddy and mommy's girl.

she'd grow to be a baker and open her bakeries.

the triplets: pieck, marcel, porco (PMP)

6 years after doting on the favorite child, the couple decided it's time for another, although this time, they didn't expect it to be triplets. while they were overjoyed, zoe's siblings were stressed for her but erwin's parents were excited for them.

pieck had her the hair color of zoe's mother, but both grandmothers and zoe's sister declared her as their favorite, also armin's because she's smart; marcel is eren's favorite because he's very diligent, quiet, and observant, ever the peacemaker; porco is sasha's favorite because he used to follow her around and obey her every request just to get her approval. erwin is their main caretaker but they're very much the babies of their eldest siblings.

pieck would grow to be a journalist, marcel a diplomat, and porco an air force member.

fraternal twins: zofia and falco (ZF)

after 4 years, the couple again didn't expect they'd have another set and zoe's OB wanted to smack the shit out of erwin.

erwin named zofia because he wanted something similar to zoe's name while armin named falco because he felt like it. the triplets joked that the ink went dry with the twins' hair (and the two absolutely believed it). falco adores eren the most while zofia idolizes armin so much even if he's always making her cry for the fun of it. erwin was their main caretaker but the triplets helped the most.

zofia would be an astrophysics major and falco a literature major.

youngest: ymir

the result of erwin's request to zoe 7 years later and she agreed because she also missed having a baby in the house.

eren named her and declared her the sister he didn't know he was missing, she's closest to him and the twins; her grandparents liken her to a cat because she's always curled up with her parents. shy and distant with the triplets, the couple were her main caretaker with the rest of the siblings helping out.

she'd grow to be a pediatrician.

[liquorisce]

it’s been so long since i’ve hung out here. i miss my anonymous friends, i hope u guys are well and thriving!

since this is still my writing blog, i figured i would write here about my writing and what i’m working on, and what i’m not working on.

i recently posted boy next door, which i am actually really in love with, and have completed 75% of, so for the first time ever i have SOME confidence in finishing it. i feel like it is the type of story that is so natural that there will never really be a perfect conclusion. But some meaningfully literary conclusion is plausible, lol, so i will attempt it. i am also really floored by the comments I’ve received. they’ve been really encouraging and kind, and some felt like I was being congratulated by a group of peers who have grown with me and seen changes in my writing style that i thought no one apart from me would ever notice or care about. in that way, fandom is kind of amazing because it feels like we are all in some sort of cohort together, and even in this vast space of chaos I have found some friends, and some kind souls who I can chat with in corridors, who peep in occasionally and see what I’m doing and encourage me positively in a personal manner. I am able to return this to others too. That’s pretty cool.

i had a tough situation with my health, or rather my inability to handle my health problems in an adult manner, but after many weeks of deleting social media apps and forceful grass-touching (extensive physiotherapy), i am trying to visit the online areas of my life again in moderate frequencies, because this is where I get to feel like a writer. I do not get to feel like a writer in my 40h a week IT consultancy job LOL. There are no artists for miles, unfortunately and it feels like I’m going insane sometimes, being around normies. (jk, maybe… not)

people have asked if i’m giving up on idily and i’m really not, the next chapter is just a tricky one, so it’s taking a while. We are now moving into a really plot-heavy part of the story, which is definitely new territory for me as far as my skills are concerned, so I’m doing a lot of writing ideas and staring at unmoving pages etc. It’s fine, I’m not despairing, as long as I’m still in love with the general story we’ll get somewhere. I will post chap 10 after I have written Chap 11 as well I’m thinking, so that I can be a bit more certain of how we’re moving with this story. Either way, expect rewrites and detail revisions bc I’m unreliable.

Darling - which is largely just a personal project that I envision in the shape of Ymir and Historia (and Rod Reiss) - will also resume. The way Darling gets updated is like so: it feels like a fever dream of craziness, all tinted red and then I get desperate and open my gdocs and blurt out some melodramatic shit. It’s an interesting process and maybe I can make it work bc the whole point is that the story is told through the form of “love letters” from an unreliable narrator. It’s fun, and kind of crazy, and I hope I can finish it this year.

as the life of a fic writer is constantly burdened by wips, i decided to try @/ betts’s method of triaging wips. (her writing advice is amazing, gospel). so realistically these are the three stories i will update this year (and hope foolishly to complete): Darling, IDILY & Boy Next Door. If I finish even one, I’m throwing a party fr. But I will try my best at all 3, regardless. Oh, and I’m participating in a KV Mini Bang (Trigun), so I will be posting an absolutely filthy one shot by the end of the year. But this means ALL other stories are either Rolled off to next year or abandoned. I will make another post about the specifics once I am done with the diagnosis part of the triage. But I feel kinda happy that I am limiting my scope to this for the year (it’s still a LOT, lol).

In terms of original writing: I have quite some ideas floating around… some have made it onto their own google docs, some are flowing via rewrites (bylb for example) and have made moderate progress, another is vaguely brewing in my mind in a way that makes me want to write a short story of it first and try to submit it somewhere first… or post it on ao3 lol, idk. but the idea is exciting: it is an indian sapphic love story which goes strong on the forbidden love themes (and infidelity). it’ll be the first time i’m writing something that is so close to my experience growing up, so i am curious to see how that turns out.

anyway, i’m going to try to do this more often, i.e, at least once more before the year ends :)

(if anyone is reading) see u next time!

[sunnplatz]

List 3 of your favorite sims from other simmers you enjoy and explain why (Send this to 10 other blogs 💖💖)

aw, thank you for sending this to me 🥺🫶

@kashisun's reaper ocs for sure. idk i just love the worldbuilding and marine's sim style. ymir has a special place in my heart out of all of them tho🧎

@softpine's jada. i'm slowly but surely getting through her story and i just feel drawn to her mysteriousness ?? stevie is also a sweetheart and i support women's rights and wrongs !!

and idk if this counts but all of @birdietrait's sims bc they all look beautifully crafted with a million stories behind their eyes <333

[scionshtola]

5, 11, 31, 43 for corishtola ofc! 💗🥰

thank you azia!! sorry it took a while to get to this 💜

5. Describe their cozy night in.

answered here!

11. Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?

both of them try to hide their emotions when they're upset but for different reasons, i think. Cori doesn't want to be a burden or have Shtola worry about her, so she just tries to focus on her duties and not let Shtola see. Shtola can always tell, and tries to draw it out of Cori because otherwise they will just hold it in. And Shtola I think just needs time to think about things when she's upset, so it's less hiding because she doesn't want Cori to know and more keeping it in until she's tried to figure things out. Cori can tell, and will ask about it but let it lie for a bit if Shtola doesn't want to talk about it, because at some point she probably will!

(before they were together Shtola would try to hide from Cori when she was upset about certain things Hien and wouldn't tell them even if they asked but mostly I don't think she's keeping anything from them)

31. Can they sit side by side without touching the other or are they handsy? (lacing fingers, touching knees, etc.)

answered here!

43. Who would give their life for the other without a second thought?

both of them 😭AND IT WOULDN'T EVEN BE THE FIRST TIME. neither of them would hesitate to give their life if it meant saving the other, and the other one would probably fight them on it but ultimately have to accept it. how many more times can shtola use flow 😭

[theragethatisdesire]

dall'inizio - eren x reader, 18+!!!!

welcome back to the ti penso universe everyone!!!! this is a continuation/prequel of the little series we've followed from my first eren x reader fic. i was really interested to see how they met and ....unsurprisingly, it's a one night stand that doesn't turn out as planned. this one is also super fun because we get to hear from both eren AND reader alternatively, plus reader is a confident, bad bitch and we love that for her. this one goes out to @philliam-writes bc ik you love this eren as much as i do!!!!!! here's ur part 3 bestie >:)

if you'd like to catch up and meet our eren x reader, find them here:

(1) ti penso ogni giorno

(2) nel bene e nel male

pairing: eren x afab reader

wc: 6.7k

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

CWs: smut (duh), consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol/drug use (just weed nothing crazy), cussing, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a lovestruck idiot (and so are you if you're being honest)

title (as always) means "from the beginning" in italian i'm obsessed with them <3

-

“You look like a whore,” Ymir says bluntly, dragging her eyes over your outfit– or, lack thereof.

“It’s not that bad,” you wave her off, turning back to the mirror to tug at the hem of your little black slip. You do look like a whore, but it’s intentional. You haven’t gotten laid in three months– your friends have been calling you dramatic, but that’s a lot, okay? You’re in college, you’re supposed to sleep around, right?

On top of that, your last few situationships just haven’t quite…well, they weren’t bad, but they didn’t scratch the itch. You desperately need a fuck– not just a fuck, a good fuck, and you have a feeling tonight’s going to be the night. It’s Halloween, the international holiday for running around in basically zero clothes, and you’ve taken great care to adhere to that tradition.

“Are you a mouse?” Historia wrinkles her nose at you from her spot at the vanity in the corner. She’s in a dalmatian costume; cute, spotted ears sticking up from her blonde hair, blue collar tinkling when she cocks her head at you.

“I’m a fucking cat,” you mutter, drawing a black triangle of eyeliner on the tip of your nose, “I didn’t have time for a real costume.”

“She just wants to get laid,” Mikasa announces, pushing through the studio apartment door with a huff, arms laden with plastic bags that are making a tell-tale clinking sound, “it’s been like, two whole weeks.”

“Three months!” You correct her, defensive.

“I understand,” Ymir, appropriately dressed as Cruella de Vil, grins, “it’s been…what, Stor? Two hours?”

“Ymir!” Historia, scandalized, flushes a furious red. Both you and Mikasa are unphased; in the last four months they’ve been together, the three feet they’re sitting from one another now is the farthest apart you’ve seen them.

“I’m not a whore,” you turn around, hands on hips, “I just…it’s been awhile since I had good sex. Floch was–”

“The worst?” Mikasa finishes for you. You hate how well she knows you; even after less than two years of knowing each other, she can practically read your mind.

“Yeah, you may have mentioned that once or twice,” Historia turns back to the mirror, immediately disinterested. “Or a thousand times.”

You throw your hands up, turning back to the mirror to finish your whiskers. “So none of you can blame me.”

“While you two,” Mikasa points between Ymir and Historia accusingly, “have been screwing like rabbits, and you,” her black-painted fingernail finds its way to you, “have been trying to figure out how to sleep with half of Manhattan, I took the liberty of actually making plans for us.”

“Jean’s?” You raise a knowing eyebrow at her, grateful to put someone else in the hot seat for the night. Mikasa’s cheeks tinge pink. Busted.

“He’s throwing a party, yeah,” she answers slowly, trying to talk her way around her obvious attraction to him, “but it’s not those douchebags he usually hangs out with. My best friend from home, Eren, just got into town, and,” she looks at you pointedly, “some of his friends are actually cute.”

You’re unconvinced. “Pictures?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Mikasa bites her lip mischievously, “but if you take a few tequila shots with me, I might be persuaded to show you one or two.”

You’re dubious. Mikasa’s definitely shown you a photo of these guys before, and you don’t remember a standout in the lineup. This Eren character, however…Mikasa has a framed picture on her bedside nightstand of them in high school, and you remember him being sort of cute. Dark, short-cropped hair, big green eyes so wide and earnest that he almost reminded you of a movie character. That picture was three or four years old now so…who knows? Maybe he’d grown into his features.

“Eren’s a no-go, though,” Mikasa continues, knowing your exact train of thought of course, pouring out shots of lukewarm, cheap tequila. Your stomach gurgles in protest at the smell as you accept yours. “He’s a nightmare to women, trust me.”

“Who knows,” Ymir pipes up, nodding her head towards you, “she’s a nightmare to men, so.”

“I am not a nightmare,” you narrow your eyes, “I just don’t like to be tied down, that’s all.”

“You’ll have to be at some point,” Historia argues, smiling when Ymir slips a hand into hers. You wrinkle your nose, uninterested.

“It’s 2018, Stor, not very feminist of you,” you tut, throwing back your shot and practically choking it down. Ick.

“I’m a lesbian, how much more feminist can I get?”

“Touché.”

“Just promise me you won’t get wrapped up with him?” Mikasa eyes you, still not trusting the glint of curiosity in your eye.

Ymir crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you positive you like Jean and not this Eren dude?”

Mikasa makes a fake retching sound. “Eren’s practically my brother. I’ve seen his bare ass more times than I can count. Way past the attraction threshold, trust me. I just…I know him. And I know you,” she glares at you, “it’s a toss-up as to who would do more damage to the other.”

“I’ll behave,” you placate her, throwing your arms around her shoulders, “…maybe.”

-

Eren might puke. No, wait, he’s going to puke– oh, no, just an unbelievably loud burp. Eren smiles contentedly, feeling much better even as it stinks up the entire taxi. Connie leans over Armin, scrunches his nose and squints his eyes.

“That fucking reeks, dude!”

“Sorry,” Eren shrugs, turning his head back to the window and ignoring Armin and Connie’s complaints. They were all a few beers deep- what did they expect? 

Eren’s lived a few hours outside of New York City all his life, but he’s never been, except maybe once or twice for field trips as a kid. He never remembered it looking like this, though: each little apartment twinkled like a star, giving the wall of skyscrapers the appearance of the night sky. Even as the cab screeches and jerks in the Lower West Side traffic, Eren feels like he’s in a spaceship, free and flying amongst the stars. 

Maybe he could talk to Zeke, convince him to move their little operation out of their garage and into the city. There was money here, right? And plenty of musicians who weren’t quite good enough to get signed by any major labels…

“Mikasa says she and her friends will be over in five,” Armin squints at his phone screen, holding it far away from him like an old man to type a response. Eren nearly rolls his eyes.

“Would you just get some fucking glasses already?”

“Annie said they made me look nerdy,” Armin shrugs. Connie groans.

“You two broke up like, a year ago–”

“Six months,” Armin corrects him, eyes growing sadder by the second.

“Okay, six months, whatever, we’ve got to get you laid tonight, dude.”

Eren lets the two slip into an argument about the “appropriate amount of time” to wait to sleep with someone after a breakup, much preferring his unusually contemplative mood to Connie and Armin’s bickering after their four-hour train ride together. He smiled to himself; God, it would be good to see Mikasa again. He wouldn’t have admitted it at gunpoint, but she was practically his mom growing up, and she’d been gone for over a year, only visiting for Christmas. Rumor had it that she’d been spending a lot of time with Jean as of late, so he needed to see what that was all about, too.

And who had Eren been spending a lot of time with lately? No one but bar rats and slim pickings from the frat parties at Trost University near his hometown. When was the last time he’d even gotten laid? A month? Two? Her name had been Jenna…no, Jenny? Josephina? Fuck, he should remember that. Eren needs to get laid, regardless, but if he dares to step near any of Mikasa’s friends, she’ll kill him, he knows that from experience. Then again, maybe this weird-ass Jean situation would come in handy. If Mikasa ends up distracted…

“Excuse me!” Armin disturbs his thoughts once again; Eren scowls. “Excuse me, sir? I think we’re here.”

Eren pays for the cab. Armin had bought the train tickets and the chain-gang costumes they were all currently sporting, and Connie was always flat broke, insisting his music career would work out soon. That could be Eren’s fault, though: Connie was one of his and Zeke’s first “clients”. None of them even bothered keeping up with the money exchanged between each other anymore; Connie had been in their kindergarten class, Armin’s mom had changed all of their diapers, Mikasa’s parents were the “cool parents” that let them smoke weed in the backyard, Jean’s mom made the best potato salad. They were a little family, separated by life and college at the moment, but a family all the same. Eren felt a little tingle of appreciation in his stomach as they climbed the stairs to Jean’s walk-up.

“Jaeger!” Jean was dapping him up and smacking a fist against his back before Eren could even properly look around the dark apartment.

“Kirstein,” Eren returns his embrace and has to shout over the music, suddenly smacked with a wave of homesickness at the familiar smell of weed and Jean’s tacky Hugo Boss cologne.

“Make yourself at home, dude,” Jean’s nearly inaudible over the thumping house music. He’s got some stupid mummy costume on that exposes his lean stomach, basically just shirtless and wrapped in toilet paper. Eren stifles a laugh, looking around the apartment for any other familiar faces.

Reiner approaches him next, a goofy, drunken grin splitting his face wide open, tackling Eren in a bear hug. Most of the greetings go like that; I miss you! How are you? How’s the business? Are you still in Shiganshina? It makes Eren’s chest tight, makes him miss the closeness of the people he loves. He was just always fucking working, helping Zeke with paperwork, running around town talking to clients, pulling at his face late at night looking over the finances of everything. He feels wound up, ready to burst, but the blunt and beer Bertholdt just handed him should fix that, at least somewhat. He needs…fuck, he needs to get laid.

His eyes search the room, looking for the one person he’s looking most forward to seeing, but he doesn’t find Mikasa where he expects.

She’s perched on Jean’s lap, giggling over her drink as Jean waves his arms wildly, telling her a story. That bizarre sight only holds Eren’s gaze for a moment, though, because there you are beside her, grinning wickedly with one of those stupid vapes between your teeth.

Eren stops dead in his tracks, speechless. Where do they even make women like that? He goes bottom to top, letting himself be impressed with how well you’re balancing on those high heels, ravishing every naked inch of your exposed legs until he reaches the hem of– fuck, is that just lingerie? Whatever little black thing you’re wearing, it makes his heart race, makes his pants tight. It’s low-cut in the chest enough to tease, a little collar around your neck, and your face…even your face makes him hard, so beautiful in the low lighting, eyes glimmering. You look evil and fun and sexy all at once, and Eren’s sold within the first ten seconds of seeing you.

Before he can make a beeline in your direction, he realizes he’s taken his gaze off of Mikasa and Jean long enough for them to approach him, Mikasa throwing her arms around his neck.

“Eren!” She squeals in his ear, clearly already drunk. Eren chuckles, trying to rein himself in enough to hold a stable conversation. The little black dress flashes behind his eyes as he smiles down at Mikasa.

“Hey Mika,” he ruffles her hair, making Mikasa grumble and reach towards her head to right what he’s ruined. His eyes wander back to you; you’re watching him too, sizing him up. He wonders if you like what you see, pulls at the zipper of his orange jumpsuit to inch it down, reveal some of his stomach. Eren’s not conceited per se, but he spends an unhealthy amount of time in the gym, and he knows it shows. As your gaze travels down to where he holds his zipper, Eren can’t look away, knows it must be obvious that he’s distracted.

“Bro,” Jean snaps his fingers in front of Eren’s eyes, looking over his shoulder to see what Eren’s staring at. He turns back with a smirk. “Yeah?”

Fuck, now Mikasa’s looking off in the same direction, returning her eyes to him with a scowl. Drunk or not, she never fails to scare the shit out of him. “No. No fucking way, Eren.”

“What?” Eren sips his beer innocently, shrugging. He was only staring…for now.

“She’s my best friend, Eren, no,” Mikasa says, firmer this time.

“Thought I was your best friend?”

“Didn’t she just break things off with Floch like…” Jean trails off at the withering glare Mikasa shoots him, turning red.

“She’s off-limits.” Eren nods, her words going in one ear and out the other. Mikasa’s scolded him before, and she won’t stop anytime soon, so what’s one more? She can read his mind, evidently, because she reaches up and pinches his cheek, yanking him down to her level.

“Ow!”

“Off. Fucking. Limits.” Mikasa seethes. “Do you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah I- fuck, let go! I hear you Mika,” Eren rubs his sore cheek, frowning. He can see you laughing at him, eyes barely visible over the edge of your drink. Great, Eren thinks; getting a talking-to from Mikasa like a child was not the first impression he wanted to give you.

Mikasa’s grabbing Jean’s hand and pulling him back towards the crowd, presumably to play guard dog for you, but before she can get him too far, Jean leans back towards Eren, cups a hand around his mouth.

“She’s single, bro,” Jean manages to get out before Mikasa pulls harder, “go for it!”

Eren grins. If Mikasa wanted to bite his head off for this, now he could blame it on Jean. What the hell was he supposed to say to you, though? You’re leagues above the girls he’s been pursuing. If Eren’s honest with himself, he’s intimidated by you, but his only solution is to throw some more of his beer back for liquid courage. He’s always loved a challenge.

When he pulls the cup away from his face, you’ve appeared in front of him, smiling demurely and nearly making him jump out of his skin.

“Hi.” 

-

The second you saw him, you were hooked. He was gorgeous, dark hair pulled into a little half-bun on the back of his head, pretty eyes, and tall and broad to boot. He was almost stern-looking, dark eyebrows shielding his eyes. Dark and mean, just the way you like them.

Mikasa had given him a massive hug, interrupting the clear eye-fucking you were engaged in across the room; so that was Eren? Her long-lost best friend that was always too busy to visit? The happy kid from the picture? You watched her scold him, giggling to yourself at how childlike he became, crumbling under Mikasa’s pinch and pouting when she let him go.

You had no choice, really. Your promise to Mikasa had flown out of your mind the moment you saw those full lips pursed around the blunt, blowing out a puff of smoke, stretching into a wide, dangerous smile. You’re an only child and admittedly, a bit spoiled, so when you want something, you get it.

“Hi,” you can’t manage anything more clever, not face to face with his bare chest. Jean’s apartment is stuffy, and you catch the gleam of sweat on his chest in the LED lighting. You lick your lips.

“Hi,” Eren responds stiffly, looking as surprised as if you’d just punched him in the gut.

“You’re Eren, right? Mikasa’s friend?”

Eren hits his blunt again, nods slowly. “I don’t think we’ve met though, you’re…?”

You give him your name. He smiles and repeats it, rolling it around on his tongue and getting a taste for it. You can already see little hearts in his eyes, it makes you grin to yourself. You had expected him to put up more of a fight; there’s a dozen girls in this room alone that would fall all over themselves to get him in bed, but he’s enraptured by you, eyes never leaving your face. You’ve got him. 

“A cat, huh?” Eren addresses the costume, dipping his head in the direction of the little black ears on your head. You’re suddenly embarrassed, feeling a bit silly.

“I, uh, didn’t really have time to shop,” you shrug, pulling at the hem of your dress. Eren’s mouth quirks up. “A prisoner?”

“Yeah, I didn’t get to pick. I like yours, though, it fits you.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “A cat fits me?”

“Yeah,” Eren says, growing surer by the second, “I don’t know. Just fits. S’cute.”

You’re embarrassed by the giddy flutter in your stomach. God, he’s delicious. “You think I’m cute?”

“I think lots of things about you,” Eren replies, voice low and sultry and hardly audible over the music. His eyes widen like he hadn’t exactly meant to say that out loud, but it’s too late now. You grin, all teeth and bad intentions.

“We just met,” you point out. Eren’s confidence has returned, he boldly brings a hand to the spaghetti strap of your dress. His fingers are hot– why do men always run so hot? His touch almost burns.

“You wore this,” he rubs the fabric between his fingers, “and expect me not to have a few thoughts on it? Wasn’t that the point?”

The breath leaves your lungs. Your confidence fizzles at the same rate as your arousal grows. There are plenty of hot guys here, but you might have jumped into the deep end with this one. Something flickers in his eyes, something hungry.

“Why don’t you tell me about these thoughts of yours?”

“I will,” Eren nods, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, “later.”

“Later?”

“We’re at a party,” Eren takes the empty cup from you, replacing it with his own, much larger hand, “shouldn’t we at least dance a little?”

Before you can argue, he’s pulling you out into the center of Jean’s obnoxiously spacious living room, into a jungle of sweaty, gyrating bodies. You’re close enough to the speakers now that the bass pounds through your body to the same rhythm as your heart thudding in your chest. The crowded, makeshift dance floor pushes you into Eren, skin against skin. You have a fleeting moment to be grateful that you’re likely now obscured from Mikasa’s view before a pair of strong hands around your hips prevent any more conscious thoughts from taking shape in your brain.

“One of my thoughts,” Eren’s right beside your ear now, voice echoing in your brain, “is that I like you. Like this body.”

“T-thank you,” you stammer out, wanting to facepalm at not only your stupidly simple response, but the weakness in your voice.

“Move it for me.”

You obey him, letting your body move with the music, trying not to get too caught up in whether or not you look ridiculous with how you’re pressing your body into his, arms thrown around his neck. Eren seems to like the way you move on him, pushing and pulling your hips in the rhythm you’ve set, looking down his nose at you with bloodshot eyes.

Your panties are growing wetter by the second; he’s intoxicating, the feel of him against you, firm and tacky with sweat. His hands are tracing up your sides, dragging slowly as if he’s memorizing the curves of your body. You haven’t known him long enough to want him the way that you do, humiliated by the carnal desire simmering in the pit of your stomach, but you’ve had enough tequila not to care. The whole thing is too similar to what you really want, and you make it through a solid seven or eight songs before you can’t take the stifling tension between the two of you any longer, thick enough to cut with a knife.

You lean up on the tips of your toes, wobbling in your heels, and grab him tight around the neck, pulling him to you. Your lips finally meet; Eren’s slow to respond as you’ve caught him off guard, but he catches on quickly, lips falling open so you can kiss him deeper. His lips are softer than you expect, supple and giving as they move with yours. You trace your tongue through his teeth, hardly suppressing a whine. He tastes good, like cheap beer and weed and lust. You drink him in, a satisfied hum buzzing in your chest.

Without warning, Eren practically rips you off of him. “Not here.”

He’s dragging you through the people around you, knocking them out of the way and not stopping to apologize when he gets offended looks. He pulls you into what you know to be Jean’s room, wastes no time in shoving you up against the door and blocking you in with his wide shoulders.

You swallow hard; you’ve underestimated him.

“Another one of my thoughts,” Eren mouths at the area beneath your ear, makes you groan, “is that you’re pretty. Like, very fucking pretty. Bet you’re twice as pretty under this dress.”

“I think you’re pretty, too,” you manage to say, forcing the words from your mouth. Eren chuckles, smiling against the shell of your ear.

“C’mere,” he tilts your chin up, kissing you again. It’s troublingly gentle, long and languid as your mouths move against one another. He kisses you like he loves you; the thought makes alarm bells ring in your head, and you nip at his bottom lip to break up the emotional momentum, sink your teeth into it. Eren pulls back, chuckling down at you. “You’re mean.”

“Only a little.”

“Is that what you like?” Eren thumbs at your mouth, slipping his finger between your lips. You suck greedily, rubbing your tongue against the roughness of his fingertip. “Like it a little mean? Between you and me, I like ‘em a little mean, too.”

You nod, gently biting on his thumb. Eren groans, a low rumble deep in his chest. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with you.”

He’s pulling your dress over your head before you can stop him, sucking in a sharp breath when he gets an eyeful of your lace-clad breasts, the tiny thong you’ve slipped over your hips. Stronger than you’d expected, Eren pulls you up to wrap your legs around his waist, slamming your back against the door with a loud thud and knocking your stupid cat ears to the floor. You can hear a few sounds of surprise from outside; surely that got a few people’s attention, but you’re lost in him, whimpering at the feel of his jumpsuit costume rubbing against your clothed center.

Eren’s sloppy, placing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to suck a bruise underneath your ear. You gasp, canting your hips into his stomach, desperate for friction. You’re normally not so uninhibited, but Eren’s doing something to your head, has your mind spinning. He’s carrying you over to the bed, dropping you down onto Jean’s sheets. Eren leans down to pull your heels off, a sweet gesture if you could find the presence of mind to acknowledge it. You feel a flicker of guilt about doing this in Jean’s bed, but when Eren starts sliding a hand up your thigh, it flickers away into nothing, swallowed by your bottomless want. 

“Look at that,” Eren smirks, rubbing his fingers over your panties, “soaked. This all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine, hips jerking up towards his touch. It is for him, it was from the moment you laid eyes on him, and you both know it. His hands are everywhere: unclasping your bra, pulling your panties down, palming at your tits. You arch your back up to him, offering him your chest; he responds by closing down on one of your nipples with his teeth.

“So pretty,” Eren’s murmuring around the mouthful of your flesh he’s got, twisting the neglected nipple of your right breast between his fingers, “so pretty.”

“Eren,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, pulling it out of its bun and wrapping the hair band around your wrist. His mouth is hot, scalding, even, but you pull him closer to you anyway, pressing his face into your tits. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, letting you move him this way and that, show him what you like and how to pull those pretty moans out of your mouth. Before long, he’s kissing his way down your stomach, hands gripping your hips like a lifeline.

“Want a taste,” Eren sounds more like he’s talking to himself than to you, “need to taste this pussy.”

“Eren,” you reach for his hair, trying to pull him back up to you. While you’d love to see what the mouth that had just kissed you breathless could do between your legs, the thumping music outside is an annoying but consistent reminder that there’s an entire party outside and you’re in Jean’s bedroom. The clock’s ticking. “Want to feel you, we don’t have time for–”

“Don’t have time?” Something wicked lights Eren’s face up as he shimmies your panties down your legs. “Believe me, it won’t take long.”

“Eren,” your protest is feeble but earnest, and you make another attempt to reach for him when a long, thick lick up your center renders you near-unconscious. You moan, a little louder than you would have liked to.

“See? Gonna make you feel so good, trust me,” Eren’s punctuating each word with a little kiss somewhere on your pussy: your clit, your lips, right over your fluttering entrance. You have no choice but to whimper and nod, canting your hips up towards him. You look down, immediately regretting it: Eren’s wiggled out of his costume, naked and beautiful and staring up at you from between your legs. You’re hardly able to swallow the inhuman sound that threatens to rip from your throat.

Where he’d been cool and calculated pulling you onto the dance floor, you quickly learn that Eren eats pussy like he can’t control himself, like his life depends on it. His massive hands wrap around the tops of your thighs, securing you against his face as you try to squirm away. He licks into you enthusiastically, moaning against you at the taste, sending a succession of vibrations through you that go straight to the fire in your stomach.

When his lips close around your clit and suck hard, you have to slap a hand over your mouth to stop a wail from reaching the ears right outside the door. Eren takes the opportunity to sneak a finger into you, curl it right against that gummy spot in your walls that has you seeing stars. As he works his finger in your cunt, he kisses his way back up to your mouth, greeting you with a sloppy kiss.

“Feels good, right?” Eren’s face is literally dripping with you, a sharp-toothed grin barely visible in the dim light.

“Feels good,” you whimper, daring to look down to where he’s grinding his palm against your clit. You can see the veins of his muscular arm straining as he pumps in and out of you; it’s a lewd sight, one that makes your head spin. “‘S so much Eren, I— fuck.”

“Yeah?” Eren’s smile grows darker, another finger slips into you easily. You’re practically dripping onto the sheets at this point, rolling your hips against his hand with your mouth hanging open. It’s humiliating but too gratifying to stop. “Gonna cum for me? You can do it, give it to me.”

“God– close, so c-close,” you can barely find the words to respond, the pressure in your belly swelling at an alarming speed. You’re going to squirt, you know you are, should move off of Jean’s bed or warn Eren or do something, but it’s too late.

You thrash in Eren’s grip, cumming so hard you think you can taste blood where you bite your lip. You can feel the wetness spraying from you, soaking Eren’s hand and the sheets and your inner thighs, can distantly hear your pitiful cries, but you’re powerless to do anything about it until the mind-numbing orgasm’s run its course. Eventually you do settle, babbling incoherently into Eren’s shoulder about Jean’s ruined sheets, about how you’re sorry for making a mess. Eren shuts you up with his mouth on yours; you can hear the distant rip of a condom wrapper.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he laughs, rolling on top of you and lining himself up, “gonna have to keep you.”

Before you can even think to offer to return the favor or make a sarcastic remark about how you’d never let anyone keep you, Eren’s pressing into you, and your mind short-circuits. Shit, maybe you’d let him keep you.

You hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the darkness, but he’s big, bigger than you’ve ever had before, and big enough that you realize this when he’s not even halfway in.

“Eren…it’s so– s’big,” you hiccup into his shoulder, fingernails clawing into his biceps.

“Is it too much, baby?” You hate pet names, hate them, but from the greek god splitting you open right now, you love it, want to lick the word right out of his mouth and taste it on your own tongue. The genuine concern glittering in his eyes, the little furrow between his brows as he pauses, frowns down at you, fuck, you might be in love.

“No, not too much– feels good.”

Eren’s grin is feral. “Yeah? Tell me.”

“Feels so fucking good,” a little giggle sneaks out from your clenched jaw, Eren smiles wider and cups your face to kiss you again, far too gently to match the way he’s stretching you, bullying your cunt into the shape of him.

“Feel full?”

“Mhm,” he’s bottomed out now, impossibly deep, and you give him a little roll of your hips to show him just how okay you are, that you’re ready to see what he can really do.

“You’ve got–” Eren rolls his hips experimentally, punches a moan from your chest– “the best fucking pussy. So tight for me.”

Ordinarily, dirty talk makes you cringe, but something about the way he words things, as raw as if his inner monologue is spilling out of him, turns you on, makes your cunt clench down around him. That makes him happy, he sucks in a breath of air and starts pounding into you hard enough to make tears well in your eyes, hard enough to make you squeal in a way no one else ever has.

“Taking me so fucking well, baby,” Eren’s hands are grabbing your face, his lips pressing into your forehead, “never gonna let this pussy go.”

You grant him a long moan of agreement, so cockdrunk that for now, you’re more than happy to sign your freedom away to stay in this bed, pinned underneath him for all of eternity. He’s fucking into you so deep he’s practically in your throat; your breath comes out in short little huffs, choking on the brutal pace of his fucking. And god, he’s so big, but you’re taking him somehow, like you were made for it.

Eren moves one of his hands away from his face to swat your fingers away from where you’re digging into his arms, surely close to drawing blood.

“Fucking hurts,” he hisses, “just as mean as you are pretty, y’know that?”

He easily manhandles your arms above your head, pinning them above you by your wrists. The way he stretches his body to do so changes the angle he’s fucking into you at; now he’s hammering into the spot inside of you he’d found far too quickly with his fingers. Your eyes shoot open at the change, and Eren doesn’t miss it. He smirks.

“Right there?”

“God, yes, please– right there,” you sound pathetic, the few surviving rational brain cells you possess are laughing at you, but there’s no help for it. He’s already got you spiraling towards cumming again, the wetness from your cunt creating a sucking sound where he’s moving in and out of you.

“Fuck, m’close. Think you can cum again for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe, tilting your head up to nip at his neck, a tear or two running down into your hairline. You can do anything he asks, you think, anything in the world just for him, for how he’s making you feel. Eren practically growls, pistoning his hips faster.

“Need you to cum for me, okay beautiful? Cum right now.”

“S-so close– I– Eren, oh my god,” you’re babbling, eyes rolling back into your head. Eren smashes his lips to yours, grinding his hips into your clit and shoving you over the edge for the second time that night. You sob and convulse around him, back arching desperately and pressing your chests together. You’re seeing stars as he fucks you through it, grunting in your ear and growing sloppy as you tighten around him.

“Fuck!” Eren bites into your shoulder, hard enough to bruise, stilling his hips as deep inside you as he can manage. Your fucked-out brain wants the condom off, wants to feel the full warmth of him as he cums inside of you, grinding his hips against yours. Before he’s finished, Eren moves back to your mouth, kissing you deep and slow, a kiss that means a whole lot more than what you’ve just done together as a party rages just past the door.

As you’re panting beneath him, trying to ground yourself and come back to reality, Eren rolls off of you, whips the condom off, and to your surprise, takes you into his arms, pulls your head to his chest.

“You okay?”

You’re so blissed out right now that it’s a laughable question, and you giggle, watery and light into his chest. “More than okay.”

Eren laughs at that, a real laugh from deep in his stomach. The sound of it makes something warm and happy spark in your chest. “That good, huh?”

“You’re alright.” You’re trying to keep your eyes open, more than aware that your teeny tiny thong is on the floor and you’re naked in the arms of a stranger in Jean’s fucking bed, but Eren’s so warm, so comfortable, your eyes are fluttering despite your protests. 

“Oh?” Eren’s voice raises in pitch, gets breathy. “Yes, Eren! Right there, Eren! I’m cumming, Eren!”

“Oh my god, shut up!” You smack at his chest, cheeks burning, but you make no move to roll away from him, preferring your snug little hovel against him to the loud, smoky party that awaits you should you leave.

“S’okay,” Eren presses a kiss to your hairline, “I like that you’re loud.”

“Not loud,” you grouch, resolving to let yourself enjoy just a few minutes of keeping your eyes closed before you return to the party. The last thing you remember is Eren humming, tracing circles into your shoulders with his fingers. You think you recognize the tune; it’s a love song.

–

“Jaeger!”

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god, is that Jean? What time is it? Eren!”

Eren’s first peaceful sleep in months is disturbed rather rudely, in his opinion; he shields his eyes from the brightness of the overhead light, peering through his fingers to see you, hair a rat’s nest and smudged makeup in rings around your eyes. He scowls at the warm, empty spot next to him in the bed that you’ve already leapt out of, frantic with energy even through your hangover. You’re alternating between running around the room naked, trying to find your dress, and shaking him urgently. He bites back a grin; so you are real, and just as hot as he remembered.

“Chill the fuck out, Jean!” Eren shouts, using far more energy than he can afford to expend if he’s leaving the bed anytime soon. The alarm clock on the nightstand reads 7:01am. Shit. “We’ll be out in a second!”

“Get your ass out here, Eren!” Shit. Mikasa’s here too? Oh, he’s dead the second he leaves this room. All the better to stay put, then.

“Get up,” you hiss at him, looking every bit of a pissed-off racoon as you scrounge around on the floor.

“Need my hair tie back if you want me to get up.”

“Ugh, here,” you fling it at him, hitting him squarely in the forehead. Eren chuckles, pulling his hair off of his neck and into its usual bun. He feels empty, feels alone, realizes that he wants your touch, the same body-to-body contact that he’d enjoyed last night.. 

“They’re fine,” Eren grumbles, hoping you can’t see the amusement written on his face, “we’ve got a few more minutes.”

He reaches sleepily for you, pulling you back into the bed with him amidst your whispered protests, pulling your lips back to his where they belong. He kisses you slowly, indulgently, convincingly. Your skin against his does wonders for the soul-crushing anxiety he’s been putting up with over the last few months. You’re like a drug to him; just one hit and he feels worlds better, feels like he can actually get through everything weighing on him for now. Jesus, even your morning breath doesn’t turn him off; his cock twitches in interest beneath the covers. Cute when you’re angry, he thinks to himself. He has a feeling you’d smack him if he said it out loud.

“We can’t,” you breathe into his mouth, pushing weakly at his chest. Eren loves the feel of your palms on his chest, necessarily resistant in the name of a one–night stand, but lacking the force to prove your point. You want him too, he realizes. The thought goes straight to his dick, and he takes a deep breath to keep his composure, to stop himself from jumping all over you with Mikasa and Jean right outside. He’s rather impressed with his efforts, rubbing small circles on your lower back instead of grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you into his lap like he wants to.

“We can,” Eren murmurs back, already ten times happier than he was a moment ago, “just want to kiss you, that’s all.”

That makes you pull back, fix him with a stern look. “I don’t want to come off as a bitch, but I don’t really do the morning-after thing. Don’t you live, like, five hours from the city anyway?”

Eren’s not the brightest when he’s tired, and he’s even stupider around beautiful women. He cocks his head at you, smiling. “Mikasa didn’t tell you? I’m moving to the city in a few weeks.”

You eye him suspiciously. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Eren’s bullshitting, bullshitting very badly and he knows it, “just have to get some things worked out with my brother and our business. Get the operation moved here, that’s all.”

He knows your type: flighty, heavily anti-commitment, and meaner than a snake when you’re cornered. But Eren hopes, he hopes stupidly and against all reason because even if it was just a night, he meant what he said in the throes of passion. You’re funny, you’re interesting, you’re sexy, and he doesn’t want to let you go. He wants to fuck you stupid, just like he did last night, for the rest of his life.

He can’t say any of this out loud, of course, but what if he’s not bullshitting? What if he can convince Zeke to move their amateur record label into the city, where they can pick up real artists, and he can fuck you stupid whenever he feels like it? Maybe he can even learn how you like your coffee, what your bra size is, where the junk drawer in your apartment lives. Eren doesn’t know you, he knows that, but he inexplicably wants those things, wants the mundane parts of you for himself.

“Get the fuck out here, Jaeger, that’s my fucking bed!” Fists pound against the door, threatening to barge into your little sanctuary. Mikasa’s calling your name from outside too, voice harsh and angry. Eren waits for you to scold him, waits for you to shove him off of you and tell him to fuck off.

To his surprise, you make no move to get up and offer him a sheepish grin, shrugging shyly as if you’re not fully naked in his arms. “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Eren’s heart swells. “I’m not chancing that. Give me your number.”“You can earn my number if you buy me breakfast,” you scoff, “and help me find my dress before Mikasa kills us both.”

[gojuo]

What do you think of Aot ending?

man... it was.... whatever. I wasn't having a full meltdown like r/titanfolk was having at the time, but I also wasn't pleased with it either. I'll admit that after the Rumbling was activated, I kinda stopped giving a damn about the cast. Armin, Mikasa, Connie, Jean, Levi, Hange, Annie, Reiner, Gabby, Falco, etc. etc. can't even remember who was there anymore, I just stopped caring about them. not because I was angry or something, but because by that point, my only concern and point of sympathy was Eren and Eren only. Cause he's my son. and I'm not joking. so anyways after the Rumbling Eren — as the main character in the narrative the reader is privy to — essentially disappeared (although it was already happening during the Marley arc but I digress) so I kinda stopped caring about the story as a whole. I did not agree with the philosophy and ideology of the Alliance who all kinda turned into the main protags in that final arc which is why I didn't care about following their journey to get to Eren outside of Eren himself but I'm not going to get into that currently cuz that's a whole can of worms my ass will never open, just FYI. anyways what I'm trying to say is that when we were nearing the end of the manga, the one and only character I actually cared for was Eren and Eren only. so I didn't give damn about Eremika nor did I like it, but it didn't come out of left field either. I was just hoping it'd stay ambiguous like it had always stayed. I liked the Ymir backstory, minus the execution of her soul-freeing epiphany. because the Eremika relationship is in no way or form comparable to what she and King Fritz had and her getting closure because of them is a bit.......... I mean I get what Isayama was going for.. the execution was just awful. but whatever. like I said, at this point I only cared about Eren. And I always knew Eren was going to die. there was not a single possibility in any universe that Eren was not going to die. so I always knew that something like this was going to happen. I just didn't expect it to happen like this .. kinda pathetically. I'm not calling Eren pathetic, just that Isayama's attempt at finishing his character arc was kinda pathetic in a writing sense. My main issue with this fandom was always that no one ever really understood Eren. "He's a crying bitch baby" like dawg he was 10 years old. his mind was broken by Shiganshina. then it continued to break more and more because fate had chosen him to be its infernal victim. and I loved it, I loved him and I knew it was always gonna end this way for him. too bad Isayama kinda fumbled the bag by being too wishy-washy and that by the time we got to the end I just didn't really care anymore to be mad at anything. ch. 139 was just whatever to me. it still is. I can say with my whole heart that SNK is a masterpiece and Eren is one of the best MCs of all time, just that the final stretch of chapters was mehh. it wasn't bad (unlike the age old example of Bleach whose final stretch of chapters ruined the entirety of the manga and I'm not even exaggerating), but it wasn't peak either. it was just, a logical yet meager ending that made sense within the framework the story had always been operating in AKA the ending made sense for the type of story Isayama was trying to tell. Eren's character assassination and the poorness of ch. 139 are greatly overblown by the fandom, but it is true that the ending was quite mehh. that's really all I can say about 139. mehh. whatever. made sense but I wish Eren hadn't been sidelined like this in favor of the Alliance's weak ass convictions. but that also made sense cuz of course Isayama wasn't arguing in favor of omnicide lmfao. so TLDR I thought it was mehh but I wasn't too mad about it because I always knew it was going to end this way. Eren is still my GOAT though bc I agree with his omnicide <3

[lawsvalentine]

let’s hear it, what are your thoughts on aot? do you believe me when i say it gets even crazier?

who’s your fav? who do you hate? what was the biggest twist for you? do you agree ymir is sexy?

Gossip time 🌝

I really like aot so far, I’m ngl the second season had me GAGGED

Its the way reiner was gonna be in my top 3 but then the twist happened 😭😭

Jean and Armin are still my favorites and Connie is slowly going up my ranks

Annie was barely in this season but i still don’t fw her sjsksks. I’m ngl I don’t like how Erwin is so reckless with people’s lives like that be gettin on my nerves lowkey.

Imma need a good ass explanation from Reiner bc I’m looking at him CRAZY RN like him and berthold lowdown dirty for that

Also Ymir is a cute girl but ion kno if I trust her yet so same as reiner imma need more from her

But overall dis me rn 😃

[erros429]

hi!! i’m so happy you followed me back!! i came from your AMAZING ao3 fic “y’all don’t get no sleep cuz of me” which btw, is the best silliest gayest thing ever!! and i love it smm!!! your silly gay chatfic is literally my world and is absolutely HILARIOUS :))!!

and i do have a question cuz i’m pretty sure this is like a qna thingy, if you could be roommates with anyone from the chatfic who and why?

hehe hello!!! thank you so much aaaahhhgjghjg !!!!!!!! im so so glad you're enjoying it :)

this doesn't necessarily HAVE to be a qna thing haha you can say basically anything on here, but i'll answer anyway bc this seems like a super fun question :)

i'd probably have to go with historia tbh! not taking ymir into account bc she'd probably spend all her time there with her and idk if i could handle that dsfhsjkf but historia seems like she'd keep the room super neat and wouldn't bother me too much if i needed like. alone time or smth. plus my current roommate reminds me a lot of her and i LOVE her, so. yeah. my other choice would probs be marco for the same reasons, but i think he'd try to therapize me a lot and that can get a bit much for me haha . plus historia's probs got a fire sense of humor so i'd have tons of fun with her

thanks again for reaching out <3 and your comments are all super appreciated!!

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

(ITS 2 AM RIGHT NOW FOR ME. I CANT SLEEP)

What are you apologizing for my friend? ALSO DONT WORRY ABOUT ANYONE COMING AFTER YOU I’LL PROTECT YOU.

HEHEHE EVERYBODY ALWAYS GUESSES MIKASA, my favorite character of all time is Mikasa Ackerman and Ymir (not Ymir Fritz). The reasoning is bc Ymir is very funny and she’s cool. I can relate to Mikasa a lot and she’s so badass (have you seen her in season 4? GODDAMN)

FLOCH I HATE HIM. He’s the reason why Hange died and plus he was a coward during season 3 and then suddenly in season 4 he thinks he’s better than everyone. Plus he’s a complete asshole. I can’t stand him, I was so happy when he died.

(Bro sometimes I say some wholesome shit without even realizing it)

What is an anime character that you absolutely hate, like you can’t stand this character?

AND

Who is your favorite anime character of all time? Can you guess which character is my favorite and which character I hate?

this based on my on irl

I hate Bakugo from mha. It’s because he’s too fucking loud and full of himself (don’t know why he got simps, they better not come after me)

It’s obvious who my fav character is. Nezuko! I just think I would get alone with her well because I think we would chill and sit in silence (and soon fall asleep, maybe)

I’m guessing Mikasa is your fav, right?…

I have no idea on who you would absolutely hate, though-