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trashmouth-richie · 2 months ago

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𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 — eddie x fem reader (7.1k)

summary: 2011– your roommate drags you to a frat party and ditches the second she sees the guy she’s been fucking. left by yourself, you meet someone by accident, someone who isn’t in the fraternity��

warnings: smut, underage drinking, p in v, unprotected sex, grinding, dancing, eddie is trying to be cocky but he’s just awkward and silly

notes: i had a blast deep diving back into my hs and college days to reminisce with this. i hope if you were growing up during this time you can giggle along with me. love youuu oooh! also i hid some easter eggs in here (they’re not hidden at all)

The basement was steamy, and not in a ‘oh it’s a little warm in here but more like, every single person is drunk off their ass and the walls are sweating’kind of way.

College was everything you’d hoped it to be and more.

Your roommate, Kenzie was the type of girl who had an ‘open closet’ policy letting you wear her clothes almost more than your own. You weren’t too keen on sharing a dorm room with a girl you’ve never met before, but thankfully—you had gotten lucky.

You had heard the horror stories from your older sister about her terrible roommate freshman year and you worried for most of the summer that you’d strike the same type of fortune. It wasn’t until you got a friend request on Facebook and a cheery little message :

[Kenzie Walmen 2:07 PM: heyyyy roomie (;]

that you knew you had nothing to worry about.

She was from the west coast in sunny California, that bright western sky seeped deep into her personality. Kenz was sun kissed and bright haired, pretty ocean dipped eyes to give her the All-American type of aesthetic that most girls wished for. And maybe it was her laid back disposition, or her thrill for living it up and every hour of the day— that landed you here tonight at Delta Kappa Sigma.

It wasn’t your scene.

You weren’t shy or new to getting drunk, you had even been so brave to take the occasional hit from a homemade bong in your neighbors dorm a few times, but the frat parties were known for their out of control Project X style of getting shitfaced.

And something about guys with too much testosterone and too much Adidas cologne made your skin crawl and not in a good way.

“Prints always look weird on me,” you grumble into the mirror eyeing your curves in a leopard lace tank top and black skirt, “is it too much?”

Kenzie adjusts her off-the-shoulder top, adding a bit of shimmer powder to her exposed shoulder, “absolutely not, if anything it’s not enough.” Neon feathers decorate her bouncy curled hair as she eyes you in the mirror, “add that silver chunky necklace, and you’ll look bomb.”

She was right, the necklace really pulled the entire look together, and if it were Halloween weekend you could even pass as a Spice Girl or maybe Snookie.

“Sooo, is Steve gonna be there tonight?” You ask elongating the vowels in the aforementioned name, followed by some kissy faces and porn worthy moans.

Kenzie rolls her eyes, a dusting of pink warming her cheeks, “yeah… about that. He said he has a “surprise” for me when I get there, so if I disappear, I’m just with him, okay?”

“Wait wait wait—” you protest, holding a death grip clutch on a bottle of UV blue. “We aren’t even at the party yet and you’re already planning on ditching me?”

—

And that’s what got you here, a little more than drunk, holding a piss warm Green apple flavored Four Loko to your mouth, leaning against the corner basement wall in hopes to maybe disappear, wishing you were anywhere but in this cesspool of basement.

The “DJ” (a frat guy wearing neon glasses with bars across them, scrolling through an ipod and a playlist more than likely named ‘Get Crunk’) was playing Kid Cudi, again. Everyone was screaming along to the chorus like he personally wrote it for them and their experience at college. A headache was brewing behind your eyes as the beat thumped loudly into your chest and radiated to your temples.

Kenzie left almost immediately upon arriving. Swooped up and tossed over the broad shoulder of Steve the minute he answered the door. You laughed and shook your head, imagining how she was probably face down in navy cum stained sheets by now.

The hours she spent on her hair and makeup went to waste, only being seen by the dead catalog eyes of Playboy’s finest from their pinned positions on the walls of Steve’s shared bedroom.

Another sip from the overly carbonated beverage has you shuddering, the fiery ripple of fruit flavored [vomit] alcohol scouring through you like lava, causing your face to screw into a disgusted look.

How can people drink this shit?

Your bladder screams at you to break the seal, demanding to find relief, immediately. The black lights were zero help in disguising if there were any doors that might lead into a bathroom. Pushing from the wall and taking the last hot sip from your drink, you navigate your way to the stairs.

A table holding lone solo cups in formation from a forgotten beer pong game is now the proud owner of your empty can.

Weaving through the jungle of fist pumping douchelords and tipsy sorority girls making out for risqué facebook pics labeled [*~Freshman Y3ar!~*] you finally emerge from the sweaty pits of fraternity hell and climb the beer stained steps to the main floor.

The monotonous beat from the music thumped a little less loudly up here, as if the noise was absorbed by the maroon colored carpeting and the oak cabinets in the foyer.

The house was dated, decorated with a clash of orangey dark wood mixed with emeralds, dark reds and gold. As if this house was based out of Tuscany instead of midwest nowhere— complete with the rubbery fake fruit and vines that stood solely to collect dust.

You had never been here before and didn’t know where in the hell to start looking to find the bathroom, and like Alice, you figured you might as well try every door knob in this type of Wonderland.

The first door you peeked into looked like it was a formal dining room, but instead sat a television on the great oval table blasting obnoxiously loud as a pornstar moaned ripples of “pleasure” through her pink pout. Above her was an extremely tanned guy rocking a set of hard abs, thrusting in a slow rhythm that didn’t match her orgasm.

A snicker slips from your lips and you gently pull the door closed with a small click, loud whoops and whistling from what you could only assume were a couple of frat guys erupt behind the door.

Watching porn together.

You’ll have to add that to your growing list of things you didn’t know about the brotherhood behind a fraternity.

The second door looked more hopeful as it was adjacent to the kitchen area. Upon nearly peeing down your leg, you were shocked stupid when you yanked the door open to find a closet housed with cleaning supplies.

What the fuck?

How could a frat house not have a bathroom?

Your bladder squeezed in on itself and you were certain you couldn’t hold it any longer. Just short of giving up on this quest of relief and going back to your dorm, a gaggle of girls run down the steps leading to the top floor, where you could only assume the bedrooms were.

“…why are frat bathrooms always so fucking dirty?!”

Bingo.

Hustling up the never ending carpeted stairs, your bladder was on the brink of exploding as you shoved past a wooden door with a paper sign that read, “no jerking off in the shower!! pipes are clogged!”

Your sandals clapped along the sea foam tiles floors as you slipped into one of the many metal stall doors. With a swift hike of your skirt up to your middle and pull of your panties, you were finally able to pee.

A choir of angels sang the HallelujahHallelejuah chorus as you went and you sighed in relief that you had made it.

“..yeah yeah, okay asshole,” a loud voice sounded from just outside the bathroom door frame, “you still owe me from last time,” the voice now echoed as it hit against the tiles and cement block walls, “no, payment is cold hard cash buddy, I don’t care if you have to dip into your trust fund.”

A pair of black docs stomp into the tiled bathroom, nearing the stall you were in. There's no way he’ll come to this stall.

“Tell daddy that you need more money for polos or Jordan’s— I really don’t give a fuck, but you need to pay the fuck up.”

But as fate would have it…and in your hurry to get to the toilet before pissing all over yourself… and forgetting to lock the door in your haste… the stall door swings wide open— revealing a very bottomless you, to a pair of very wide dark, deer-in-the-headlight eyes.

A beat that feels like an eternity passes, his hand is choked against his belt in a yank to unthread it, his phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. Your hands fly to cover yourself the best you can, panties still at your ankles, skirt still around your midsection.

It’s all yells and screams with this random guy stumbling over himself dropping his phone on the ground and spewing, “Shit! Sorry! Sorry!” and you yelling for him to shut the fucking door already.

His apologies don’t stop as he pulls the door closed, and from the other side of it as you pull up your underwear and adjust your skirt.

“I swear! I didn’t think anyone was in there! I promise!”

Your face burns in embarrassment as you contemplate melting into the floor and becoming one with the poorly aimed piss stains and the dirty grout. As good as that sounds you still have to leave, you still have to pass the guy who just saw your bare vag and you still have to navigate your way out of here.

His phone lays face down on the floor, and you pray it isn’t broken for his sake. You pick it up, flipping it over to see that it scathed by with just a fine crack from one corner to another. His screen saver is a picture of a group of guys in a skatepark in the dark, smoke billowing thickly to cover their faces as they stand on the boards, the one with dark longer hair is shirtless, and painted with tattoos.

“Shit,” you breathe quietly, “your phone is cracked.”

You can see the shadows of his feet pacing back and forth but when you speak they stop, “oh..,” he mumbles, clearing his throat a bit, “umm, yeah, no biggie it was broke like that already.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah— hey, if you wanna slide that under the door I can um, let you ..ahem.. finish up in there.”

Shit. Duh he needed his phone, and you were just holding it hostage in here as your shame hung thickly in the air. God this might really couldn’t get any fucking worse.

A deep breath in through your nose, you fake a mask of confidence and open the stall door.

You hadn’t gotten a good look at him when he barged in on you, but now in the fluorescent dust covered light you dared to look a little longer at him.

Long locks of honeyed brown locks fell onto the tops of his shoulders, covered with a green plaid flannel that hung open showing his neck and a flick of dark lines from a tattoo hidden under a black band tank top. His eyes were just as brown, round and flocked with a grove of thick lashes. Clearly he was the shirtless one in his background picture.

He smiled sheepishly, pulling his jaw taunt as he averted his gaze to the toe of his boots, noticing your hand stretched out before him to give him back his phone, he glanced at your face, skimming his hand over your palm.

“Thanks— uh…” he started, shifting his weight to lean back against the many rows of sinks, “sorry again, I promise I don’t normally walk in on ladies using the facilities.”

His eyes met yours and you instantly felt a heat run to your throat, his lips were impossibly plump as he drew them into a tight smirk.

Fuck are those dimples? Of course they were. God he’s so pretty.

You smile, “normal people lock the stall, but I was in a hurry… well I was lost!” you exclaim in a huff, fully hands on hips annoyed, “why the fuck would the bathroom be on the top floor?”

You asked him incredulously like he should know. But on second thought…

“uhh… I dunno,” he shrugs, sliding his phone into the front pocket of his light wash colored jeans, not even looking at the broken screen as he leaned back again, “I’m not exactly an architect.”

“But you live here?” you question, turning on the sink to wet your hands, “haven’t they ever thought of putting even a half bath on the main floor?”

He rumbles out a laugh that makes your cheeks tingle, your buzz still in full force, “nah, you got it all wrong, I’m not a member of the ‘fraternity brotherhood of Alpha Mega Steroid’”, he jokes with air quotes, smiling wide when your lips tick up at the ends. “But I am a frequent guest, of sorts…”

This guy seemed to be one of those people who can make a nun blush, witty and dripping with a sexual charm that radiated from him like a ray of fucking sunshine. And fuck that grin of his. You’re in trouble.

“Ahh, okay,” you banter back easily, shaking your hands to dry them since there were no paper towels in sight, “which one is your boyfriend? Let’s see I know.. Kyle? I think is his name, reddish hair, kinda feminine hands, or are you fucking Steve because I gotta say, I think my roommate might be giving you a run for your money right now.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, a quirk in his brow as he asks, “Blonde girl? Kinda naive, head over heels for that mop of perfectly styled hair? Shit, what’s her name…Kelly? Kitten? She’s your roommate?”

Of course he would know her, Kenzie knows everyone, and seems to leave a kind of impression on people that you envied. As bright as she shined, you were the shadow behind her.

“Yeah,” you say, not hiding your annoyance, remembering how you got into this predicament in the first place.

Eddie looks just as pissed as you’re feeling, “Oh, Stevie boy and I will be having words later on his lack of tact. They’re the reason why I was out wondering the halls like a fuckin’ ghost in a haunted mansion.”

He takes note that you’re in the same boat he’s in but in your case, it’s a little worse, being a girl alone in a frat house never ends well.

“I’m Eddie, uhh…designated dealer,” he says in almost a whisper, “for the deep pocketed asshoels full of daddy’s money.”

You connect a few dots, realization hitting hard in your frontal lobe from conversations you’ve kind of listened to from Kenzie about Steve.

“Ahh, okay… now that you mention it, Kenz has talked about you before. You’re Steve’s old friend, Munson? I thought she meant like a forty year old or something.”

He laughs, loud and belly rolling like, “nah, minus a twenty from that. Steve and I are just close friends ‘s all… and no, not boyfriends.”

You laugh then, all bubbly and light hearted that has his own skipping beats. Saying your name, he repeats it, a little grin on his face that he tries to hide, “mm that’s cute.”

“Cute?” you question, an eyebrow raised as you fold your arms in on themselves, poking a hip out.

“Yeah… cute,” he says standing fully and peering down at you, “your name is very fitting for you.”

You roll your eyes playfully at his flirty words. Even though your stomach is somersaulting at the way his eyes seem to drip from heaven when he looks at you, your cheeks heating beneath his gaze.

“Is this the part where we exchange our hometowns and majors, because I’d rather get run over than do that right now.”

Eddie chuckles, “oh yeah, well I’m actually here on an athletic scholarship.”

“Really?” you question, eyebrows cocked in disbelief.

“Yes!” Eddie jokes back, trying to bite back a smile, “if you must know it’s for Tennis, but please don't bother me for an autograph. I'm just trying to be a normal guy tonight.”

“Noted.” You giggle, admiring the way this banter is coming so easily, maybe it was the liquid courage taking over or the fact that he was actually fun to talk to— either way, this night is starting to take a turn for the better.

“So, what does a Tennis star/designated rich boy drug dealer usually do at these kinds of things besides bursting in on girls using the bathroom?”

He smiles, dipping his chin and looking at you through those impossibly thick lashes. Pushing off the sink he asks, “Sell a little here and there, sometimes dip into my own stash…what do you usually do at these things?”

“Well,” you tease, twisting on the ball of your foot and heading towards the door out to the hallway, “I’m not usually at these things.”

“Ohh my god,” Eddie preens in his best valley girl/ Kourtney Kardashian impression, “you’ve never been to frat party!?”

You smile, at his stupid joke, “Noo, I haven’t actually. Kenzie drug me out for a little pick me up after we bombed our History midterm, to…y’know— live it up— YOLO, all that.”

“Okay okay, letting off some steam after the stress of class, I get it...school was never a cake walk for me either.”

“Yeah! But then your friend snatched her up, and since I don’t know anyone here… I was doing a very impressive wall flower guise, until my bladder interrupted that… and then a guy barged in on me in the bathroom.”

Eddie stalks towards you, his eyes roving over your body, “Well… now you know me, soo Miss Lady Wallflower,” he cracks, “shall we descend to the basement and keep this party going?”

His infectious smile stretches wide, practically ear to ear and you find yourself grinning just as wide, trying to twist your lips to at least hide your enthusiasm a little bit but goddamn— something about the way those dimples compliment the fucking christmas twinkle in his eyes.. ugh.

He was trouble. The kind you had always craved but never dabbled in. But when in Rome…

“Lead the way.”

—

Eddie had made a pit stop in the large kitchen before returning to the basement.

“Now sweetheart,” he purred, fishing around the shelves, of a pantry, moving cans of food and bags of chips, “I didn’t plan on drinking more tonight, but I’m not gonna let you drink by your— aha!”

Eddie stands upright, brandishing a large box of saltine crackers. Your eyebrows furrow in response and he bows low, puts his hand inside the box, “I present to you, Stevie’s not so secret hiding spot,” pulling out his hand, his fingers are wrapped around a bottle of Burnett’s Vodka.

Your eyes widen with devilish glee as you smirk, “how did you know it’d be there?”

Eddie unscrews the cap and puts it to his lips for a long six second pull.

You weren’t watching the way his throat bobbed and gulped when he swallowed each burning swig. Nope, not at all. You definitely weren’t memorizing each valley of cords and muscles as a single drop fell to his sharp chin and jaw. Never, not you!

And you weren’t holding your breath right along with him only breathing when those fucking glorious thick lips popped clean from the mouth of that bottle… his lips shiny from the bitter alcohol like a gloss you desperately need to lick clean. Yeah… no. that was not you…

So it’s only fitting when he speaks hoarsely and clears his throat that you are snapped back to the moment, your core keeping its own pulse.

“He’s been keeping vodka in the same box in a food pantry since we were in high school, guy is the most unoriginal bastard I know,” he shrugs, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and you can’t help but almost pout in the wasted opportunity.

His eyes meet yours and they look just as hungry as you were feeling. He smirks crookedly and you practically flatline from the depth those molasses colored eyes hold. He moved first, inching towards you like a wolf stalking its prey, your pretty chapstick smile daring him to come closer.

But the fuse between you is snuffed out cold as a crying girl erupts from the basement steps, her gaggle of friends helping calm her down as they leave the house.

Eddie shakes his head and clears his throat as if he was just as bothered by you as you were of him. Turning towards the fridge he asks, “I’m sure they’ve got some Sunny D you can chase this with if that’s cool?”

—

The basement proved to be in the same situation you had left it in: hot, sweaty, sticky.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes hotly behind you, loud enough to hear him above the music, “it’s like a furnace down here, no wonder that girl was crying.”

You lead him to the corner you were tucked in before, your drink still sitting on the beer pong table. By the way he is standing you can tell that this really isn’t his scene either, but after a while of passing the vodka and orange juice back and forth between you, he seems to loosen up a bit. His shoulders relax as his back leans against the wall next to you.

Eddie’s words slurring together as his stories became more and more animated, and you giggle along, never taking your eyes off of him. Completely enamored.

Your stomach burned with a flurry of butterflies when a few of his clients came up to him to buy, each more nervous than the next. Eyeing you suspiciously, questioning if you were some sort of a narc.

Eddie stepped ahead of you, his shoulders squared and chest out to casually announce that you were cool and were with him.

You didn’t know that he was waiting for you to object to it, to shove away from him and call him a pig for even assuming that you’d ever be seen with the likes of him besides in the dark, but you never did.

Hours pass and the music just gets worse. Wiz Khalifa starts singing about colors and Eddie looks at the crowd of people grinding and rolls his eyes.

The alcohol has you feeling tingly, a buzzing of flirtation sparks your blood and you are closer to Eddie than ever, the smell of his musky cologne and laundry detergent invade you.

Like any drunk girl, you start getting antsy, a little more touchy, and a lot more feely. Standing around isn’t cutting it anymore and you want to move, toss your hair back to some cheesy song, want to feel those hands you’ve been staring at all night run along your body as your hips move against him.

Running your forefinger along the inside seam of Eddie’s flannel shirt, you look up at him through your lashes.

“I’m assuming you’re not one to dance to a club remix?”

Eddie watches your finger stroke up and down, your knuckles barely grazing his abdomen, but the small touch sending electricity to his spine.

He leans into you, following your lead and pinching the hem of your skirt between his large fingers “you’d assume correct, the music I listen to is a little more head bangy than this.”

“So,” you say coyly, pulling him towards you just a fraction more, “what you’re really saying is that you can’t dance.”

Eddie scoffs, throwing his head back, his throat sticky with sweat and the hair by his ears wet and curling into ringlets, “oh I can dance my ass off honey, taught Channing Tatum everything he knows.”

His hands find your hips, and you almost lose the little bit of confidence you have gained when the warmth of them seeps through your shirt, his blunt nails skimming your skin in small strokes.

“Do these little white lies masked as dorky ass pickup lines work for you?” Your hands are on his chest now, the black light illuminating each letter of his Deftones shirt to sparkle like snow beneath your fingers.

“I don’t know,” he whispers into your ear, pulling you tight against him so your chest is pressed into his, “you tell me.”

The music changes and a throwback song

comes on, one you haven’t heard in years.

“Guess you’ll have to show me those moves, because in typical drunk girl fashion… this is my song!”

You grab Eddie’s hand and stomp to the middle of the floor, pulling him along with you until you’re shoulder to shoulder with other drunk and sweaty college kids.

“Get low?” Eddie asks from behind you, his mouth dangerously close to the shell of your ear as his hands land heavy on your hips, “seriously?”

Leaning your head back so your lips could reach him you talk loud enough just so he can hear you, “stop talking and fucking dance with me already.”

“Goddamn…” he groans when you finally push your body fully back into him.

It’s sloppy and horribly uncoordinated the way your drunken hips move beneath his hands. You’re both swaying along with the music, trying like hell to match the rhythm of everyone else around you. But in the tiny square footage you have in this cluster fuck of a space, Eddie has all the right moves.

His palms are pressing you tighter into him, making sure you can feel just how hard he is, how hard you are making him.

Courage and a few prom night dances under your belt have you dropping low and coming up slow, your skirt fanning out the tiniest bit as your knees are bent to the ground.

And Eddie is practically thanking God himself when you run the fattest part of your ass up his body, on the bunched denim by his shins, skimming the barely there fabric of your skirt against the hole in his knee, and finally up where he desperately needs your body the most.

When you come back up he moves your hair from the side of your neck, his lips puckering around your earlobe as he nibbles lightly, “spin around so I can see you.”

He groans again when you shake your head and laugh at his dismay, as much as he is turned on and bothered you are too, but the power of keeping him like this, teasing him with your body— turned you on even more.

You snake your hands upwards seductively, landing daintily at the nape of his neck, twirling the wet tendrils of curls round and round pulling gently. Eddie hisses through his teeth, his hands roaming freely from your hips to your ribcage running them along the length of your sides, bruisingly hard.

One minute you’re facing away from him, eyes closed in pleasure as he roves over your body, his lips pressed to your neck, and in the next he’s spinning you around so that you’re face to face— eyes locked on eachother, the heat and the alcohol and the endorphins are too much to handle.

Your once labored breathing snuffs out to nothing when he leans in with licked lips his eyes fixated on your mouth. Standing. Staring. Staring and standing. You’ve had enough of this cat and mouse game.

“Fucking kiss me alrea—”

His mouth with its plush pillow lips slam into you. He tastes like tart orange juice and a bite of alcohol. Like the way a summer day would taste if it were bottled up. He licks into your mouth and you whine for more of him, clutching onto his neck and pulling him further into you.

When you break for air it’s loud, smacking lips and lapping tongues, tilting your heads to line up perfectly. When you twist yours again, Eddie holds onto your neck angling it just so with a glint of trouble in those whiskey eyes as he dives into the supple skin at the column of your throat.

Sucking, swirling— his tongue is hot against you and you’re clutching onto his shoulders, your nails digging into the pilling fabric like he was the only thing keeping you Earthbound.

You wiggle in his arms, squealing and whining out but he’s holding you tightly against him, moaning words into your neck that you can’t hear above the music. Then he’s on your mouth again, working you into a fit. His big veiny hands move along your back, grabbing your ass softly, then work up to wrap in your hair or lightly scratch at the inch of skin between your skirt and your tank top.

Doing your own little damage to him, his shirt is shoved up over his chest, your fingernails trailing down his tattooed skin. A rise of goosebumps following in their tracks, and he stops kissing you to suck in a breath, your smile on his lips as you laugh and he whispers a breathy ‘fuuuuck’.

Your fingers trail down to his waist band, tickling his skin as you suggest an idea with your eyes, one that you’re certain he would understand.

“C’mon,” he mouths, gesturing his chin to the exit as he slowly begins to pull you from the dance floor, up the stairs and into the kitchen area.

Eddie knew what he wanted. Knew it the second you walked out of that stall with that sweet fucking smile on your lips, shy and coy when he called your name cute, like you weren’t at all used to the type of attention he was giving.

And maybe you didn’t want this with him. Maybe you were a: ‘fuck-me-in-the-dark-so-I-won’t-be-embarrassed-by-being-seen-with-you’ type of girl, but you did dance with him, you laughed at his stupid jokes, stuck by him almost all night, but still he needed to be sure.

He thought maybe in the brighter light you’d change your mind about what you wanted, what you needed from him, but you surprise him when you cling to his side, going up the steps, and backing into a wall pulling him with you by his shirt needily when you reach the top.

“D’ you uh..wanna get outta here?” he slurs, almost sleepily, his bangs fucked up beyond belief, his hair drenched and sticky with sweat and humidity, lips swollen red.

“My dorm isn’t far,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes running your finger along the waist of his jeans, “across campus.”

Eddie chuckles, “fuck…” he sweeps a thumb over your pouted lips, groaning as he bites his own. “I’d crawl to fuckin’ Alaska for these, honey.”

Your cheeks burn sweetly from his inebriated compliments. And even though you’re tipsy and so is he, you feel an odd sort of comfort with him—one you haven’t experienced before.

“Let’s go then,” you whisper into his ear, “I want you inside me.”

That did it for him.

Eddie was all but running with you across the campus green, but not before taking off his long sleeved shirt and placing it over your shoulders murmuring how it was freezing and you’d probably get sick.

Your combined laughter ricocheted off concrete forums and neatly trimmed grass. Passing by the fancy Chemistry Lab building, the Art Museum, the Med School and finally to your painted black brick dorm building: “Wheeler Hall”

“Here’s home,” you sing out, placing your key into the door and pulling on the steel handle.

The Wheeler Dorms were the newest addition to the college town. Named after a family that was killed in an accident back in the 80’s or something… you didn’t really remember what happened.

The side door you had come in through was closest to your room, 011, on the first floor, again, the universe being kind to you.

“Never been here before,” Eddie said looking around with wide eyes, “any of the dorms actually.”

You smiled upon unlocking your room and entering, hanging up your keys on the command strip hooks by the door. Whatever confidence he had back at the party is now deflated a bit once he realizes just how different the two of you are. What the hell was he doing here? You’re in college, he’s only here because he deals.

“Uhh..?” he questions, eyeing the lofted bed, “you know I was joking about being an athlete, right?”

You giggle and toss your purse onto the futon, “relax, that’s Kenzie’s bed, mine is the shorter one.”

“Oh thank fuck,” he practically sings letting out an over exaggerated sigh as he plops down on your futon, eyeing the leopard throw blanket, “I may look like a suave Casanova but I’m about as agile as Mr. Bean.”

Laughter fills the room and you click on a lamp throwing the room into a cozy ambience as you slip off your sandals and sit on your bed, leaning forward, “you’re way hotter than him.”

Eddie blushes a bubble gum pink sheen, using his still damp and unruly hair to cover his face, “keep being sweet on me see where it gets you.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat, or a promise?”

“Oh baby, I don’t make threats, not to a girl that’s like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah you,” he deadpans, standing up and waltzing towards your bed, crowding you in, “funny, sexy, and by some greater power— digs me… at least I hope.”

“I’m not the type of girl to bring a guy back to my place, Eddie,” you nearly whisper, putting a finger into his dangling necklace and pulling him forward, “you’d be the first.”

Eddie places his hands next you on the bed, “like your first? Or just here in college first, I’m cool with either I just— are you sure you want this? I can leave if y—”

Cutting him off you kiss him, but not like the heavy kisses earlier when you two were making out like you were each other's oxygen masks, this one is sweet, like melted sugar on Eddie’s tongue.

“You talk too much,” you say with a warm smile, wrapping a finger around his curled ends of hair, “no more of that, just kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Eddie wraps his arm around your waist and shifts you up further into the bed, laying your head on a pillow his body pressed into yours. He takes his time with you, kissing your lips then your jaw, working his way down your neck to where the bruises he’s already sucked into your skin were painted.

Your moans and little breathy sighs have him hard against his zipper, his hips bucking into the tiny fabric of your panties that’s covering up that sweet pussy he got a glimpse of earlier.

His shirt is somewhere on the floor, you had pried it off of him between locked lips and groans of having to move your lips from his that earned you a throaty laugh from him and the sexiest eyes that drove into you with an intense ferocity.

He lowers further down your body, kissing every inch, moving your tank top out of the way to eye your orange bra, his mouth between your cleavage, moaning about how orange is now his favorite color.

Eddie’s everywhere all at once, a hand traveling up and down your thigh, from the crux of your knee to the waistband of your skirt, the other hand is popping your tits out from that new found favorite colored bra of his —smiling wickedly at your peaked nipples.

You moan lustful bliss as his tongue circles each one, giving equal attention to both, “you like that?” he asks.

“Feels so good,” you whine, “more, please.”

Eddie smirks with your nipple between his teeth, “don’t have to ask me twice.”

You weren’t a virgin, but holy shit you felt as if you had never had sex before, well never sex like this. Eddie teased you with his fingers, his thumb rubbing your clit while his fingers pumped inside of you, each curling inward towards a place nobody has reached before.

He groaned with his bottom lip tucked between his sharp bite rubbing his achy cock through his jeans when you pushed your skirt down laying there in a matching orange lacey thong, bedazzled on the hips.

“Would it be corny if I say you look like a Goddess?” he asks sheepishly, pinching the stretching fabric around your hips, “because… wow.”

You bite your finger as if you were really thinking hard on this, hiding a smile, “you’re too much, Munson.”

“Too much?” he scoffs, pulling down your panties and settling himself between your legs, “you haven’t even seen my dick yet.”

You sit up, tits out and naked from the waist down, “well by all means, show me.”

“Greedy girl,” Eddie smirks, “did you bring me here just to get me naked? I’m appalled!”

You move to your knees, sitting upright a bit so your face is level with his. You kiss him softly, moving to his neck and sucking just right to pull those deep moans from him that make your knees shake.

Feather light touches skate along the expanse of his chest, working down down down until you’re undoing his belt, thumbing open the button on his jeans and yanking down his zipper.

When your hand slides between him and his boxer briefs, Eddie hisses, watching you pump him slow and tight. The feel of your smooth palm against his velvety shaft makes him almost cum right there and then, it’s been awhile since the last time.

But you’re not hesitating or questioning yourself and he isn’t either. It’s almost fluid like a rocking wave the way Eddie lays you down, a team effort to swiftly shove down his jeans so you can finally feel eachother where the desperation is needed most.

Legs hiked over his hips, he lines himself up with your gummy slicked entrance. It’s a deep and achy stretch for you, a vice grip for him. The lazy gasping moans you both emit are drawn out, yours practically breathless.

“Holy fuck,” you breath into his mouth as he peppers you with kisses. He drags his hips out at a measured pace, pushing in just as unhurriedly, enjoying the way your body adjusts, cuffing him like a glove.

Eddie breaks away from your lips to watch your bodies join together, moaning your name as he presses his forehead on yours collecting your mouth with his.

“Shit…This okay?” he asks earnestly, nipping at your ear.

You nod in gasping silence, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he speeds up. Your hands are skimming down his bareback, pressing him further into you with every thrust, begging him for more.

He snakes a hand between you, rubbing circles in your puffy clit as he thrusts harder, trying to get you there before he loses all control. “Want you to feel good sweetheart, fuck— keep making those pretty little noises, you’re squeezin’ the hell outta me.”

And he does. You cum hard around him, your walls fluttering and pulsing so fast you practically black out from the mixed pleasure of his fingers rubbing your clit and his cock stuffed in deep.

His name falls from your lips in tiny little whines and he bucks into you a hard and final time before he groans, holding onto your headboard for support as he’s bottoming out, stringing rope after rope of hot spend inside of you.

“Baby,” he whispers, “God—” he stops cold, realizing what he just did and what he didn’t do. “Oh shit, fuck fuck fuck! I didn’t pull out, I'm sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!

You laugh wickedly, your body shaking beneath him at his worried panicked face.

He’s a babbling, out-of-breath mess, “’s not funny! I just got caught up in the moment and you felt so fucking good and I’m still a little dru—”

“Eddie, it’s fine,” you say, holding his cheeks with both hands squishing them together so his lips pucker like a fish, “I’m on the pill.”

His face is still squished together when he speaks, “oh, well… okay.”

“You’re fine,” you coo, coaxing him down from the ledge of regret and self hatred, “I—” you lean up and kiss him square on the mouth, licking into it and sliding your tongue against his, “I liked it.”

His eyebrows disappear into his bangs and before he can open his mouth to speak you’re pulling him onto you kissing him deep and needy.

The two of you end the night that way, him holding you, your hands in his hair, kissing so much your lips are chapped— never getting enough. Legs entangled together like a weaved basket. You fall asleep before he does, your little huffed breathing making his skin damp as you curl further into his chest.

Wonder if Verizon is open tomorrow? He thinks when he remembers that his phone is definitely broke from it landing on the bathroom floor—but he’d never tell you that.

He also wouldn’t tell you how he was supposed to go back to Steve’s tonight because they were leaving to see another old friend in California for the weekend— or how they needed to be at the airport by 2 AM for a 4 AM flight. — or that Eddie was Steve’s ride because he lost his license in July.

Nope.

He wouldn’t tell you any of it. None of that seemed to matter when you were sleeping so cute on his chest like that.

When late morning comes you’re at it again, this time you’re riding him on the futon, slow like a twangy country song his hands rocking your hips. When you both finish you drag him to the showers, pumping some expensive shampoo into his hair and giggling when you tell him to be quiet so you won’t get caught.

Steve called Eddie’s phone all night, and all morning, sending duplicate texts of rage, wondering where the fuck he had gone.

Eddie silences the last call from Steve as you’re getting dressed, wearing a black pair of yoga pants and a zip up hoodie. He smiles when you offer to comb his hair, grabbing your wrist to pull you onto his lap kissing behind your ear.

His voice is low, soothingly sweet and minty from your toothpaste as he asks, “can I take you to breakfast?”

#Spotify #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you smut #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you fanfic #eddie fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you

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daisynik7 · 2 years ago

Text

Rush

Chapter 8: Do I Wanna Know?

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, spitting, daddy kink, vaginal sex (mating press), heavy on the angst this chapter

Summary: After the events of Halloween, you finally start questioning your relationship with Eren. Meanwhile, he attempts to do some damage control to keep both you and his reputation in check, ultimately resulting in more damage.

Notes: Song is "Do I Wanna Know" by the Arctic Monkeys

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The Sunday night after Halloween, Alpha Tau gathers upstairs in the fraternity house for their weekly chapter meeting. Tonight, Levi makes a particularly interesting announcement.

“In about two weeks, Alpha Tau will be hosting its annual fall formal. For you pledges that aren’t familiar with this yet, formal is a special event that happens each semester. It’s essentially a dance. There will be a DJ, dancefloor, photo booth. In addition, dinner will be provided. Luckily, because of our clean record so far this semester, thanks to our partnership with Sigma Nu Kappa, the Student Affairs Committee has approved us having an overnight formal. Meaning we will be renting out a hotel for the night.”

Most of the seniors cheer loudly at the last part, especially Mike. Eren clenches his fist, the memory of the other night still fresh in his mind. He can’t stand the guy, especially knowing he had his fingers in that beautiful body he’s made claim to. He’s not one to be possessive, but with her, he can’t help it.

Levi continues. “The cost of formal is already included in your membership fees, so I highly encourage every brother to attend. Also, each of you is allowed one guest. This can be anyone: a friend, girlfriend, boyfriend, whoever. If you plan to bring a date, make sure you get their signature on the sign-up form. I’ll be handing these out at the end of chapter. Please get these to me by next Sunday.”

Reiner turns around to face Eren. “Got a girl in mind you want to ask?”

He shrugs. “Not really.”

It’s a bold face lie. As soon as Levi mentioned a guest, he immediately thought of her. Her all glammed up in a gorgeous dress, them grinding against each other on the dancefloor, making love in their hotel room when the night is over.

He allows himself to fantasize about it for a minute before coming back to reality.

As much as he’d like to ask her to be his date, he can’t. As easy as it would be to just be with her, he won’t. He justifies it to “not being ready”. Asking her to be his date is another level of commitment that he’s not willing to step into yet. He needs time. This is what he’s convinced himself of.

The more time he spends with her, he finds himself forgetting why this relationship has to be so goddamn difficult. It’s on him; he knows that. His reasons are selfish and immature. Not being ready for commitment. Caring too much about his reputation, which isn’t all that great anyways. It’s all bullshit excuses at the end of the day.

Eren doesn’t want to fall in love. He’s afraid. Afraid of being vulnerable, afraid of getting hurt. Being in love complicates everything. He enjoys being free, unshackled, able to do what he pleases. Responsible only for himself and nobody else. Allowed to fuck up as many times as he can without repercussions. Because he will fuck up. He’s young, dumb, and selfish. Why burden anyone with his flaws?

But when he’s with her, he’s happy. In a way, he still feels free. Weightless, liberated, unbound. As if a whole new world has been opened up to him, as cliché as that sounds. She makes him feel worthy, makes him feel loved.

And that’s what scares him the most.

It’s not love. How can it be? Aside from the amazing sex, what do they really know about each other? Eren has done his best to avoid revealing anything about himself. She’s kept a similar guard, probably just as afraid as he is.

It’s lust. That’s all it is. That’s what he keeps telling himself.

He wishes he had met her in a different time in his life. Maybe after he’s gotten all this dumb, frat boy energy out of his system. It would be easier for them. It would be different. Better.

He knows what he needs to do eventually. He has to end it with her before it gets too serious. Their time together on Halloween night felt different. He exposed himself, revealed a little too much of his feelings.

She’ll never leave him; he’ll string her along until the time is right. He’ll continue to drag this out as much as he possibly can. Continue telling her what she wants to hear, getting away with his sins until he decides it’s time to move on.

He’s got it all under his control.

“You should bring that girl Pieck,” Reiner suggests, snapping Eren out of his thoughts. “Bertolt is thinking about asking another Delta Mu also.”

Eren shrugs again, unsure how else to respond. His big brother turns back around to face the front as Erwin makes his closing statements, ending chapter.

On the way out of the meeting, Armin nudges him. “Who are you really thinking of taking to formal?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just because Reiner is telling you who to bring, doesn’t mean you have to take them. Isn’t there anyone else you’d like to ask?”

He doesn’t answer right away, tempted to be honest with his best friend. However, Eren is still a coward that won’t admit to anything that shows off a sign of weakness.

“I think I will ask Pieck. I hung out with her on Halloween. She’s cool.” Wanting to take the focus off him, he asks, “Who are you going to take?”

“I’m going to ask Annie,” Armin states confidently.

“Annie? Really?”

“Yes, I like her. We have fun together,” he explains, smiling.

Eren can’t help being envious at how easy it is for Armin to confess his feelings. Again, he questions himself why he’s making his own relationship more difficult than it needs to be.

On their way to their dormitory, Eren gets a text message:

Mikasa is sleeping over at Jean’s tonight.

Without a second thought, Eren lies to his roommate. “I’m going to the library for a couple of hours. I forgot I have a paper due in a few days for Pyxis.”

“Oh, okay. Good luck. I’ll see you later.”

Eren turns to the direction of the library until he’s out of Armin’s line of sight. A few minutes later, he’s outside another familiar dorm building. There’s a mixture of excitement and anxiety as he waits for her to come down. They haven’t talked since that night. He abandoned her when they were caught by Hitch and Annie. In that moment, he panicked. Instead of explaining himself like any normal, mature person would, he fled the scene, hoping she would be able to fix whatever mess they created.

She’s in sweats when she opens the door, motioning him to come in. Even in this outfit, his heart flutters at the sight of her.

“Hey,” he greets her, a small grin on his lips.

“Hi.” She returns his smile with her own. Warm and bright as ever.

It would be so easy. So easy to be together, Eren repeats in his head, as he follows her upstairs.

~~~

Up in your room, as soon as the door is closed, he steps towards you with both hands on your cheeks, kissing you passionately. Your lips smack together, tongues sliding in and around each other’s mouths, hands pressed against his chest. You kiss like this for a minute, your pulse beating fast under your skin.

He breaks away, foreheads touching, noses nuzzling. “Hi,” he whispers.

You smile. “Hi.”

You get onto the bed and lie besides each other, his arms wrapped around your body. “How are you?” He gives you a smooch on your forehead.

“I’m fine. Chapter meeting was quick. How about you?”

“Same. Uneventful, as always.” He squeezes you tighter in his embrace. “I’m sorry about Friday night. For running off.”

You’ve had nearly two days to digest all that happened that night and how it plays into your current situation. The rollercoaster of emotions, beginning with denial, peaking at anger, and halting at shame, is causing you to spiral. You spent hours Saturday morning, lying in bed, refusing to accept that Annie is absolutely correct: you do deserve better. You are better than this. And when the realization finally hits you like a bag of bricks, the rest of your Saturday is wasted pacing around campus, letting off steam caused by this newfound contempt for Eren Jaeger. The blatant disrespect from him that you so fervently overlooked is impossible to deny any longer.

This leads you into Sunday, when the guilt of how you failed yourself starts to consume you. The burden of realizing that you got yourself into this mess weighs heavy on your chest; the burden to escape it weighs even heavier.

Yet, you lie here with him on Sunday night, wishing for a sign of redemption. Anything to prove that all this was worth it. That it still is worth it. Holding out hope for some type of forlorn act of love.

He clears his throat. “I freaked out when I saw them. I didn’t know what to do, so I just ran. I’m sorry.”

You stay silent, waiting for any additional explanation, maybe a more valid reason for ditching you. Nothing else comes out of it. Eventually, he clears his throat again, obviously uncomfortable, asking, “So, what did you end of telling them?”

You choose to leave out the details of what Annie said. It’s not the right time. You don’t want to confess to him that it’s been eating away at you for the past two days. Not yet. “I told them that we’re hooking up.”

“Did they have anything to say to that?”

“Not really. They were just surprised.”

He chuckles. “Annie isn’t necessarily the biggest fan of me, so I’m sure she’s secretly upset about it.”

She did not keep it a secret at all, you think to yourself, remembering her disgust very clearly.

“They’re not going to tell anybody, are they?”

“No. They’re my friends. They’re not going to say anything.”

“Good.” His relief doesn’t bring you comfort. Rather, it causes you more stress. He’s so desperate to keep you a secret, and for what? To save face? Protect a reputation that barely exists in the first place?

“Would it be so bad? If people know? What’s the big deal?” You’re already preparing yourself for a disappointing answer.

Before he replies, he reaches his fingers down to your chin to tilt your head up. “I want to be with you, okay? I just need time.”

“Time?”

“Yeah, to get used to this. I’m not really a relationship or commitment person. This is all new to me. Just give me time. I promise you. It’ll all be alright.” His eyes look earnest. Honest. Sweet.

The trouble with Eren Jaeger is that he is a master at his craft. Manipulating a situation to go his way is a skill that no one can compete with him in. And it’s taken you several weeks to recognize how easily you fall for it.

You leave it at that, tired of hearing excuses, exhausted of empty promises. You start kissing him, palming his cock until it’s hard beneath his pants. This is how it always ends up with you two. This is the only thing you’re good for.

A few minutes later, you’re both naked, you on your back, thighs spread open as he eats you out, pumping his fingers inside you. You’re the same obedient girl that gave your virginity to him. Allowed him to defile you, to ruin you. It’s what you wanted, what you fantasized about. And now you are dealing with the consequences. Picking up the pieces that you willingly let him destroy.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl. Such a good girl for daddy,” he hums, flicking his tongue over your clit, middle and ring finger working overtime in and out of your cunt.

You allow the ecstasy to smother you, because the only way to feel good with Eren is like this. He doesn’t have to know that your mind is filled with doubts, regret, insecurity. And, as he sends you into your first orgasm of the night, you temporarily forget about all the imperfections in this shady relationship. You let the lust and pleasure justify why you’re still here in bed with him.

When you come all over his fingers, he doesn’t stop. He keeps going until his digits are wet, shiny, and sticky with your slick. He sucks on your clit until it’s swollen and sensitive. Until you’re whimpering with tears rolling down the sides of your face. Until he’s had your fill of you, and you’ve given him all that you can offer.

Without warning, he pulls his fingers out of you and slides his hard cock up and down your arousal, spreading your cum over your clit. You hear the click of the lube bottle, the soft squelch of oil being rubbed on his shaft, the gravely moan resounding from his throat.

“Are you ready, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathe out.

He kneels in front of you, positioned between your legs. His cock glides into your sleek pussy easily, eliciting a low moan from his mouth as he bottoms out. He thrusts into you slowly, spreading your thighs out wider for a better angle. He watches you swallow his entire length, a satisfied smile forming at his lips, as he continues to penetrate your sloppy cunt.

“Fuck, baby. Look at you. You’re beautiful.” His eyes drift up to meet your gaze. You try to suppress the flutter in your belly, reminding yourself that he only says this when you’re beneath him, surrounding his cock. Giving him what he wants.

“Take this cock, take this fucking cock. Good girl, good fucking girl,” he growls, sliding his hands under your thighs and pushing your knees closer to your chest. He has you in a fucking mating press, pounding your G-spot ruthlessly, determined to milk you dry.

“Fuck!” you cry out, fists clenching the sheets, eyes shut tight as he drills you into the bed, completely lost in the heat of passion. You hear him spit twice, his saliva trickling onto your puffy clit. Suddenly, his fingers are on you, stimulating your messy bud smeared in his drool. The sensation overtakes you. Soon, you’re coming once more all over his cock, pussy throbbing around him.

“I want to fill you up, baby. Fill you up with my fucking load,” he moans. Both his hands are holding onto your legs, pushing them towards your shoulders into a goddamn yoga pose. Your cunt is so wet, you’re worried he’ll slip out any second.

He orgasms inside you, groaning as he comes down from his high. “Fuck, baby. Wish I could take a picture of this.” He pulls out to marvel at your drenched pussy, biting his lower lip.

Turning your head to the side, you stare blankly at the wall of your bedroom, brought back to reality. Nothing has changed. He’s still the same Eren. Your body feels good, spent and satiated, as it usually does when he’s finished with you. Your mind, however, is focused on all the problems that remain.

He chuckles, crawling next to you, asking, “You okay?” Completely unaware of the turmoil taking over your mind.

You nod, staying silent as you sit up, ready to make your usual post-coital trip to the bathroom. His hand grips at your wrist. “Hey. Baby. Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just have to pee,” you tell him. Not yet. It’s still not the right time.

“Okay,” he relents, loosening his hold on you.

You slide into your pajamas, avoiding his gaze. From the corner of your eye, you see him looking at you with a worried expression. Does he actually care?

As you exit your bedroom, anxiety creeps into your chest. It feels like the calm before the storm.

Sometime soon, you’re going to crack. The burden of it all is going to break you, cause you to snap. Unleash the hell that’s burning in your fragile soul.

Not tonight, not in this moment. But soon.

You’ll finally be free.

~~~

The days pass and Eren’s timeline for turning his sign-up form is dwindling. He’s been debating with himself all week about how he should proceed with this.

Thursday night, the brothers of Alpha Tau eat dinner together in the dining room. Those that live in the house are prepared food everyday by their house chef. Pledges are allowed two meals a week, free of charge, as long as an active brother signs them up as their guest. Tonight, Reiner invites him to eat with them.

“Have you asked Pieck to formal yet?” Reiner shoves a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, waiting for a response.

“I haven’t,” he replies, taking a bite out of the meatloaf on his plate. He knew this was going to come up eventually.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” In a hushed voice, he leans in closer and urges, “Just don’t take a Sigma Nu Kappa. Anyone but them. A lot of brothers are already taking them. We need to add some hot girls in there or else we’ll be the laughingstock to the rest of the frats.”

It’s a ridiculous statement. Truly. Reiner is an idiot. Apparently so is Eren for going along with everything he commands.

“I don’t even know how to get a hold of her. I only met her at the Halloween party.”

“Ask Bertolt to help you out. He’s taking another Delta Mu sister. She can let Pieck know you’re interested.”

Eren has been procrastinating doing this on purpose. Once he asks Pieck to the dance, he has no other choice but to break the news to her. He’s nervous for how she’ll react; she’ll probably come up with some smartass comment to make him feel guilty. She never stays mad at him, though. Never. He has her wrapped around his finger, and he shamelessly takes advantage of that.

“Fine. I’ll ask Bertolt to help me set it up.”

Reiner pats his back. “Don’t forget to sign up for a room with a single bed. I’m sure you’ll be using it.” He gives you a cocky smirk, going back to scarf down his meal.

Eren hangs out on the couch after dinner, digesting. He checks his phone frequently, waiting for any type of text inviting him over. He hasn’t talked to her since Monday morning, when he whispered a soft “good morning” as he crawled out of bed to get ready for the day. Even though they spent the night together, she didn’t say much. Usually, they chat with each other before drifting off to sleep. She was much quieter on Sunday, only nodding along and providing short responses as he babbled on and on. He attributes it to exhaustion from the amazing sex, Eren finally trying a position he’s been fantasizing about doing with her.

On his way out of the house to retreat to his dorm room for the night, he spots Annie walking out of the Sigma Nu Kappa house. “Jaeger,” she calls out, before he can avert her.

Reluctantly, he turns to face her. “Hey.”

“Come here for a second. I want to talk to you.” Her expression is the typical scowl she wears whenever she sees him. He wonders if she’s typically like this with others or if this frown is specifically reserved for him.

“What do you want?”

She sizes him up, eyes narrowed. “Geez, what’s with the attitude?”

“What do you want?” he repeats, already losing his patience.

She twirls a strand a hair between her fingers. “Armin asked me to formal.”

“Yeah, he told me he was going to ask you.” He still can’t fathom how his best friend, who is a gentle teddy bear, plans to attend a dance with someone as callous and deadpan as Annie. Then again, he hasn’t been spending much time with Armin to discuss this recent development.

“So, when are you going to ask her? I heard the deadline is on Sunday. It’s already Thursday.”

Eren plays dumb, placing his hands in his pockets and shrugging. He doesn’t owe anyone, especially Annie Leonhart, an explanation.

She glares at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “What are you doing? She’s a nice girl. Why are you messing around with her like this?”

The accusation irritates him. Defensively, he responds, “I’m not messing around with her, okay? And I know she’s a nice girl. Why do you think I keep her around?”

Her eyes get narrower, scrutinizing him. “She’s not a plaything, Jaeger. She’s a human being.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that.”

“Do you even know how she feels about you?”

There’s a growing guilt building in his chest as he tries to remain unbothered by this hostile confrontation. He keeps silent, unsure how to react. Truth be told, he doesn’t want to know. Knowing will only make it more difficult for him to let go. To move on.

She scoffs. “You’re pathetic.”

“And you’re nosy,” he spits out. “What the hell did you tell her anyways? She’s been really distant lately. Hasn’t been talking to me much.”

A small smirk forms on her face. “I told her the truth. Told her what she needed to hear.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you don’t know, then you really are hopeless.”

Eren rolls his eyes, having had enough of this conversation. This is typical Eren. When he’s put in a tough situation, he walks away. Sometimes runs. He turns away from her, not at all interested in being harassed any further.

Before he moves, she warns, “There are a lot of people who care about her. If you hurt her, you will be reminded every day of how badly you fucked up.”

It sounds like a threat. With Annie, it probably is.

Without facing her, he says, “I care about her too, Annie.” His voice is soft, maybe even a little vulnerable. Admitting it out loud is unusual; he’s surprised to hear his own mouth utter these words.

“Then act like it. I thought you didn’t let other people influence how you think or feel. Remember you told me that? Don’t let Reiner influence your decisions. Believe it or not, I at least have more respect for you than him. Don’t be a disappointment.”

With that, he makes his way back to his dorm room, Annie’s words sticking to his mind no matter how hard he tries to disregard them. She’s right; he knows what he’s doing is wrong.

Don’t be a disappointment.

It’s too late for that.

~~~

Friday night, Sigma Nu Kappa hosts their monthly pizza night. The sisters gather in the kitchen, assembling their personalized pies, handing them over to their chef who bakes them in a portable wood-fired oven. During these special nights, all sisters, whether they live in the house or not, are allowed to participate.

Hange, who always tries to make the smelliest pizza possible, topped with anchovies, olives, onions, and garlic, is regulated in the corner of the room, eating her meal alone with a twisted smile on her face. Petra, Nanabe, and the other seniors talk amongst themselves as they munch on their dinner, discussing upperclassmen topics unrelated to the rest of the sisters.

You eat with Mikasa, Annie, and Sasha on the couch, watching a comedy movie on TV. After some idle gossip, Sasha brings up a topic that catches you off guard.

“Who else is going to Alpha Tau’s formal, besides Mikasa and Hitch?”

“Hey, I haven’t been formally asked by Jean yet. He wants to do it after a nice dinner tomorrow, bless his heart,” Mikasa explains, a sweet smile on her face. “Who’s taking Hitch?”

“Connie!” Sasha answers, proudly. “I set it up. Just call me Cupid.”

“Armin asked me. And I said yes,” Annie mentions in a quiet voice, blushing.

“Armin?! Oooh la la, Annie!” Sasha teases, resulting in a firm punch to her arm.

You notice Annie glancing at you, imploring some sort of comment.

“I didn’t even know Alpha Tau is having a formal,” you say. Eren hasn’t mentioned it all week. In fact, he’s barely contacted you since Monday morning, when he kissed you goodbye before leaving for his morning class. In his defense, you haven’t made any effort to reach out to him either. You can’t help but wonder if he’s planning to ask you eventually. There’s still that glimmer of hope you’re holding out for him, despite how fast it’s dwindling.

Annie glares, clearly upset. However, she doesn’t say anything, still adhering to her vow of silence in regard to your secret.

“Mike is probably going to ask you,” Mikasa mentions, smirking. She found out about your little fling with Mike on Halloween and has been pestering you about it since.

You return her smile. “Maybe.”

In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind going to formal with Mike. After that night, you still consider him a friend. The few times you’ve passed by him this week, he’s acted normally, greeting you with that handsome grin that he wears so confidently. If you weren’t so fucked up in the head by Eren, you could definitely see yourself falling for Mike, the way he deserves. The way both of you deserve.

Instead, here you are. Still wishing more than anything that Eren asks you to this formal. Setting your expectations so high, you can barely see the top. It’s laughable. It’s pathetic.

You spend the rest of the night at the house, watching another movie snuggled next to your sisters as you all share a big bowl of popcorn. Mikasa leaves before you, heading to Jean’s for the night. Instinctually, you reach for your phone, ready to text Eren. Before you can, Annie nudges you.

“Hey. Let’s walk back together. I want to talk to you.”

The two of you leave the house, slowly making your way towards the dorms. You’re concerned about what she wants to tell you, anticipating it has something to do with Eren. “What is it, Annie?”

She sighs, staring down at the ground as you both take your time walking. “I’m just going to say it, okay?”

You nod, eyebrows knit together with worry. Anxious for another truth bomb she’s sure to drop in this moment.

“I don’t think Eren is going to ask you to formal.”

It’s inevitable; your heart falls. The sinking sensation dwelling in the pit of your stomach slows down your steps, as if gravity is pulling you towards the ground. “How do you know?”

“I ran into him last night. I asked him and he didn’t give a straightforward answer.”

“Oh,” is all you can mutter as you process this information.

“Also, I overheard something.” She pauses, debating if she should continue.

“Annie,” you urge her, desperate for the truth.

She gulps loudly, admitting, “I heard he’s taking someone from Delta Mu.”

There’s a cluster of emotions rushing through your head. He’d rather take anyone else besides you, the girl he’s been fucking the past couple of weeks. He was on his goddamn knees just a week ago, begging to have you. Granting whatever wish you desired to nestle himself inside your body, the one you offered him on the fateful night that initiated it all.

You’re as much to blame as he is, falling for his tricks. For that low voice that can lull you into a trance and manipulate you into submission. Those compelling eyes that dazzle you, hiding the true nature of his cold, frigid heart.

While your feelings for him have always been true, there are far too many red flags now to ignore, to make excuses for. Time and time again, you’ve let the waves of pleasure purify the sins of your messy relationship, if only for a short while at a time. Not anymore. This is the final straw.

Now, you want revenge. To hurt him the same way he’s hurt you. Pull the rug out from under him like he’s done to you in the past. Make him feel something. It may sound cruel and petty, but you don’t care. For the first time since it started, you have clarity.

“Are you okay?” Annie asks.

“I don’t know. But I think I’m starting to see things more clearly now.”

She gives you a small smile. “That’s good to hear.”

After dropping her off to her building, you head to your room, alone. Repulsed by the idea of inviting Eren over with this new information swimming around in your head. Coincidentally, your phone rings, flashing his name across the screen.

“Hello?” you answer, attempting to keep your cool.

“Hey,” he greets, his gruff voice taking a different effect on you now. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” You keep your responses short. Not in the mood for the typical pleasantries of a phone conversation.

You hear a sense of trepidation in his voice, as he says, “So, not sure if you’ve heard already, but there’s this formal coming up for Alpha Tau.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

You hear him clear his throat, nervous. “I’m going to take Pieck. From Delta Mu.”

Gut punch. Annie prepared you for this, but to hear it from his own voice doesn’t soften the blow.

Before you can respond, he continues. “It doesn’t mean anything. Reiner told me to take her, so I am.”

He’s a coward. A fucking coward. Always abiding to what his big brother demands him to do, for no good reason. And you’re a fool for letting it go this far.

“Okay.”

“Are you mad? It’s just formal. It’s not like I’m dating her or anything. I won’t even dance with her if it makes you happy.” The audacity he has to justify it, to make it seem like what he’s doing is no big deal. It takes all your willpower not to scream into the phone.

“If you really want to make me happy, you’d ask me to go with you, instead of some other girl,” you state.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re not supposed to be seen together yet. I’m not ready.” Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

“So, it’s okay to be seen with a Delta Mu, but not with me?” you challenge him, anger seeping through your voice.

“It’s not like that. Just give me some more time, okay? I just need more time.”

Officially fed up, you quickly say, “Yeah, okay. Got it. Have fun at formal.” You hang up, not waiting for a response.

Time. You’re sick of hearing this. He uses it as if it’s the magic word that erases all your problems, an excuse to prolong your suffering. You’re not even sure what he needs time for. Does he need it to get over his own insecurities? To grow up and make adult decisions? To realize he cares about you? Regardless, his time is running out. He didn’t even have the decency to tell you any of this in person. It was all through a fucking phone call.

Eren Jaeger truly is a coward. The biggest coward of them all.

Your limit has been reached. This is your breaking point.

You know what you have to do.

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End Notes: We’re nearing the end, folks! I have three more chapters planned, plus an epilogue. Thank you again for those who have read, commented, liked, and reblogged any or all parts of this so far!

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