"Yo, Jaeger!" Ymir bursts into Eren's place, plopping herself onto the couch across from Eren, who was laying with a blunt lazily between his lips, preoccupied with his game of Rainbow Six. Flicking through the operators before he goes with his main, Kali.

"W'ssup Ymir?" His eyes flit to her for a second, greeting muffled as he tries to keep the lit blunt balanced, tiny tufts of smoke leaving his mouth with each word.

"Nothin' much. Just got back from helping my cousin move into her place. Girl has so much shit, my back is fuckin' aching from carrying her dresser. I know I'm a masc lesbian but fuck, I'm still a damn girl," Ymir rubs her aching back as she sits up, watching Eren snipe yet another person. "I need some damn indo to help with this back pain."

"Cousin?" Although Eren and Ymir were close, Eren felt like he knew jack shit about her. He didn't even think she had actual parents. In his mind she just spawned onto the earth with no attachments.

"Yeah. My cousin on my pop's side," Ymir leans forward to grab the blunt dangling from Eren's lip, which he side eyes but allows, "We used to be hella close growing up as kids til she moved up north. But she just moved back for school. Got into some fashion design program or some shit." She takes a fat puff, coughing a bit as she leans back into the couch once more.

Eren hums, barely paying attention as he respawned in-game, fingers moving lazily over the controller. “Fashion design, huh? Sounds high maintenance.” In his mind he was envisioning a bubbly, ditzy girl who could barely form a coherent sentence without using the word 'like'.

Ymir snorts, shifting to get more comfortable on the couch, blunt between her thumb and index finger as her other hand rests behind her head. “Please, she’d eat you alive, Jaeger.”

That caught his attention. His brows lift slightly as he glances at Ymir out of the corner of his eye. Taking the blunt back for another hit, the ember at the tip of his blunt glows a fiery red as he took another slow drag, letting the smoke sit in his lungs before exhaling through his nose. His free hand runs through his already-messy hair before he leans back, posture relaxed but interest piqued.

“That so?” He drawls, as if the idea of someone getting the best of him was comical. It was utterly laughable.

Ymir smirks knowingly. “Yeah. She’s not like those girls that throw themselves at you.” She reaches over to grab the blunt from his fingers again, taking a slow inhale before flicking the ashes onto the dirtied rolling tray that sits on Eren's beat up coffee table. “She’s a fuckin' problem.”

Eren lets out a short laugh, eyes still trained on the screen, but the way his leg bounces slightly betrayed how much she had his attention now. “A problem, huh?”

Ymir rolls her eyes, exhaling deeply. “Don’t do that.” She already knows what's going on in Eren's head. She can already see that conniving look on his face. Like a bad ass kid plotting.

“Do what?”

“Make it sound like a challenge,” she scoffs, watching as the smirk tugged at his lips. Aaaaand there it was, that conniving look.

His fingers twitched slightly against the controller, but he shrugs, feigning indifference. “You make it sound like I couldn’t handle her.” But the tone in his voice was anything but indifferent.

Ymir lets out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Handle her?” She stretches her arms behind her head, amused. “Jaeger, she’d ruin you.”

That made him pause, just for a second. He tilts his head toward Ymir now, fully interested. “How so?”

“She’s just like you,” Ymir says simply with a casual shrug of her shoulders, blowing out a fat swirling cloud of smoke before handing the blunt back to him. “Except worse.”

Eren raises a brow, taking a slow hit before exhaling toward the ceiling. “Worse?”

“Oh yeah.” Ymir’s grin was almost cruel. “She’s got a new guy every other week. Doesn’t do relationships, doesn’t do feelings. The second she gets bored? You’re out. No explanations. No second chances. Sound familiar?”

His fingers momentarily stilled over the controller. “Lemme get this straight,” he says after a beat, bringing the blunt back to his lips. “She’s a maneater?”

“That’s an understatement,” Ymir mutters, rolling her neck. “She’d chew you up and spit you out, Jaeger. And I’d pay good money to see it.”

Eren exhales sharply, shaking his head, but the smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips gives him away. He wasn’t used to hearing about a girl like this. Someone who played the same game he did, who knew how to keep things casual and clean.

But the way Ymir spoke about you… the certainty in her voice, the absolute conviction that you were the one who would wreck him and not the other way around—it irked him. Because no one ever got the best of Eren Jaeger. No one.

“She ever try to sink her teeth into you?” he asks, mostly just to push Ymir’s buttons.

Ymir lets out a barking laugh, smacking her knee. “Fuck no. I'm one of the few lucky ones. She actually respects me.” Then her grin widens. “Which is more than I can say for you, by the way.”

Eren clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes as he gives Ymir a dubious smile, but he couldn’t shake the way his mind was suddenly fixated on you. For the first time in a long time, it wasn’t about how fast he could get someone into bed. It was about how long he could last before you decided he was disposable. And for some reason, he really wanted to find out.

Eren exhales a thin stream of smoke, tapping ash onto the makeshift ashtray as he gives Ymir a sideways glance. “You talk about her like she’s some kind of myth.”

Ymir snorts, kicking her feet up on the edge of the coffee table. “She might as well be. Every dude she’s been with thinks they’re gonna be the one to change her, to get her to stay. And every single one of them ends up ghosted, wondering what the fuck just happened.”

Eren smirks, tilting his head slightly. “Sounds like they’re just weak pussies.” He can't imagine any self-respecting guy to be groveling at a girl's feet.

Ymir lets out another laugh. “Nah, they’re just dumb. She makes them feel like they’re special, lets them think they’re running the show. But the second she’s bored? She moves the fuck on, no hesitation.” She takes the blunt from him again, flicking the accumulated ash onto the coffee table by accident when she misses the ashtray. “Shit’s actually impressive.”

Eren leans back against the couch, stretching his arms over his head, pensive smirk still in place. “So, what? You’re warning me?”

“I’m telling you not to waste your time,” Ymir says casually, leaning forward. “You think you’re hot shit because girls let you do whatever you want, but she ain’t like that. She’ll let you hit, sure—if she even finds you interesting enough—but she won’t think about you after. You won’t be special, Jaeger.”

That had something curling hot and stubborn in his chest, something he wasn’t used to feeling. Not special? Eren Jaeger was always special. He didn’t say anything, just grabbed the blunt back from Ymir and took a slow drag, eyes narrowing at the screen in front of him, pretending her words didn’t get under his skin.

Ymir watches him, and when he stays silent, she grins knowingly. “Ohhh shit,” she drags out. “You’re actually interested, aren’t you?”

Eren exhales a faux laugh through his nose, jaw tightening. “Relax. I’m just curious.” But Ymir already knows you have your claws sunk into him, even before he met you. That's just the type of hold you had on boys.

“Curious, my ass,” Ymir cackles. “This is gonna be fucking hilarious. I cannot wait to see you get humbled.”

Eren scoffs, shaking his head, but Ymir’s words stick to him like gum on pavement. He hated how much this was getting under his skin, how much he already wanted to see for himself. Because if there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was someone thinking they had him figured out. And right now? It sounded like you were the one to beat.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Music lowly plays from the tiny Bluetooth speaker on the white dresser, bass thrumming low as you stand in front of the full-length mirror that sat in the corner of Ymir and Historia's room, applying a final coat of lip gloss, rubbing your lips together to blend your lipliner just right. The dim amber-yellow light of the bedroom reflects the shimmer against your lips, and you press them together with a satisfied smirk, blowing a kiss to yourself.

Behind you, Historia sprawls on the bed, one knee bent, her phone resting against her thigh. She scrolls lazily, barely sparing you a glance until something about your outfit catches her attention. She looks up briefly, eyes flicking over your outfit before raising a brow. “You’re actually trying tonight?”

You turn, placing a hand on your hip as you pose for her, making those cunty faces you two see on Rupaul's Drag Race. “This is minimal effort, babe. I'm going easy tonight.”

Historia rolls her eyes but smiles, propping herself up on her elbows. “Yeah, yeah. You just like making it look easy.”

You grab your pair of hoop earrings from the nightstand, sliding them on as you check your reflection again. Tight, flattering, just the right amount of skin—tonight is going to be fun. “Speaking of looking easy, what about you? You’re not pulling up in that sweater, right?”

Historia huffs dramatically, tossing a pillow at you. “I’ll change later. Ymir is taking forever in the bathroom, and I am not getting dressed in front of her just so she can talk shit about every outfit I try on the entire time.”

You snicker, knowing she’s not wrong. Ymir has a talent for running her mouth, and Historia—despite her sharp tongue—usually ends up the easiest target. Blame the innate sweetness that she harbors. Something you don't really have.

As if on cue, Ymir’s voice calls from the echoing hallway. “y/n, you better not be corrupting my girlfriend again!"

You turn to Historia with a grin. “As if she needs my help.” Historia flips you off before sitting all the way up, long blonde hair cascading down her back.

“Who’s gonna be at this party tonight? Anybody interesting?” You ask, turning back to the mirror as you adjust your top with a shift and a squeeze.

“Dunno. Sasha said she’d be there, and Connie’s probably already pregaming," Historia swings her short legs off the bed.

“And the guys?” You ask, voice laced with mild interest. Might as well peruse the menu before you get to the restaurant. Maybe choose who you want to sink your teeth into before you arrive, make things easier.

“Why? You got your eye on someone?” Historia raises an eyebrow, curious as to what your chaotic ass would have planned for tonight. You and Historia have been out together countless times, and each outing has its own insane story.

“I’m just asking," shrugging your shoulders, you walk over, plopping onto the bed beside her.

“I guess it depends on what you mean by ‘interesting.’ Jean will probably be there. You know how he is—loves the attention but gets all soft when a girl actually plays back," She explains to you. You've met some of Ymir and Historia's friends, become slightly acquainted.

You hum in acknowledgment. “Reiner, probably? Bert too. I think they were talking about it last night,” you continue, running through the other friends you had met in passing.

Historia tilts her head, looking down at you as you stare up at the ceiling. “What about Eren?” She knows exactly why she's bringing him up. Little freakin' instigator.

At that, you pause, blinking once before snorting. “Eren Jaeger?”

She nods, her cerulean eyes still focused on you and your reaction to the boy. “Yeah. You two have never met, right?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Ymir’s mentioned him before, though. Total playboy, right?” You had only been in town for a couple of weeks, and it seemed like every other conversation was 'Eren this, Eren that". It was annoying, really. Ymir's friends acted like he was some kind of God.

Historia smirks. “Yeah, textbook.”

Your lips curl at the corner. “Hmm.” You don’t say anything else, but you can feel Historia watching you closely.

“What?” she finally asks, nudging your arm.

You stretch your body before standing up from the bed with a slow, lazy smile. “Nothing. Just wondering what kind of playboy we’re talking about here.” You've dealt with more than a handful of so called 'playboys' and they've all crumbled before you. Reduced to groveling messes. Snot nosed, teary eyed, on their knees begging pathetic puddles of men.

Historia rolls her eyes, but she's smiling something mischievous. “Don’t even try it. Ymir already said you’d destroy him.”

Your smirk widens, that's exactly what you wanna do. “Then maybe it’ll be fun to prove her right.”

Before Historia can respond, Ymir strolls into the room, towel draped over her defined shoulders, damp strands of chocolate brown hair sticking to her forehead. She takes one look at you, then at Historia, and groans, throwing her head back.

“Oh, hell no,” she says, rubbing a hand down her grimaced face. “What are you two talking about? And why do I feel like it’s something that’ll piss me off?”

Historia smiles, tilting her head innocently. “We were just talking about the party.”

Ymir narrows her eyes before turning to you. “Uh-huh. And why do I get the feeling that you’re plotting something?”

You shrug with a toothy grin, smoothing out your top as you turn back to the mirror. “I don’t plot, Miri, you know that. I just go with the flow.”

Ymir scoffs, rolling her eyes as she sits down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, and that ‘flow’ usually leaves a trail of broken hearts and emotionally scarred men in its wake.”

You laugh, tossing a menacing wink at her. “Not my fault they can’t keep up.”

Historia snorts, and Ymir groans again, rubbing at her temples. “Alright, for real. What’s the topic of the night? Who are you planning on destroying this time?”

You turn back to them, leaning casually against the dresser. “We were just talking about Eren Jaeger.” Your tongue presses against your cheek as your lips curl into a conniving smile.

Ymir stops mid-motion, eyes locking onto yours, and grimaces. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

You raise a brow, your lips slightly parting in feigned innocence and confusion. “What?”

Ymir throws her hands up. “Nope. No. I refuse to let this happen.”

Historia leans back against the bed frame, amused. “You say that like you can stop it.”

Ymir groans, looking between you and Historia. “Listen, I know my cousin. And I know Jaeger. You two? That’s a goddamn collision waiting to happen.”

You smirk, crossing your arms. “Sounds fun.”

Ymir points at you, eyes sharp. “No, sounds like a mess. He’s the worst kind of playboy—thinks he’s untouchable, gets what he wants, then bounces. And you?” She gestures vaguely yet dramatically at you. “You’re the female version of that. The only difference is that you don’t even let them think they had you in the first place.”

You tap a manicured finger against your lips, feigning deep thought. “So, what you’re saying is… I’m better at it?” A devilish smile forms on your glossed lips, perfect brows rising in satisfaction.

Historia cackles, and Ymir grabs a pillow off the bed, throwing it at you. “I’m serious, dumbass! Eren’s the type who doesn’t get played, and you—” She shakes her head, eyes shut. “You’re gonna ruin his fucking ego.”

You shrug, catching the pillow and tossing it onto the bed. “And? Sounds like a him problem.”

Ymir drags a hand down her face. “I don’t got the energy for this.”

Historia grins. “Oh, I do. This is gonna be hilarious.” If there was popcorn she would definitely be eating it right now.

You laugh, stretching before grabbing your phone from the dresser. “Well, guess we’ll just have to see for ourselves, won’t we?”

Ymir groans one last time, muttering something about needing a drink already, while Historia smirks knowingly. The three of you are just about ready to head out when chaos strikes—in true you and Ymir fashion. It starts with a missing sneaker.

“Where the fuck is my shoe?” you mutter, crouching near the bed, tossing aside a hoodie, a hairbrush, and what looks like a half-eaten granola bar (probably Ymir’s). “I literally just had them both here.”

Historia, standing by the door with her arms crossed, sighs. “Ymir probably kicked it under the bed or something.”

“Excuse me?” Ymir squints, sitting on the dresser with her arms draped over her knees. “Why do I get blamed automatically?”

“Because you’re always the reason,” Historia deadpans, icy blue eyes lidded.

“Valid,” Ymir admits with a sensible nod, but then tilts her head. “Still not my fault.”

You blink at her before getting down on your hands and knees, blindly reaching under the bed. “I swear to God, if I find some weird ass shit down here, I’m gonna kill both of you.”

“I told you not to look under there,” Historia says, completely unhelpful. All she wants right now is to be downing vodka cranberries and dancing to Saweetie. She might even pretend to be straight so guys will pay her to kiss Ymir like at the last party they went to.

Your fingers graze something soft and cold and squishy, and you scream. Ymir howls with laughter as you jerk back so fast you nearly smack your head on the nightstand. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!”

Historia wheezes, clutching her stomach as she leans against the doorframe. “Oh my god, I forgot about that!”

“Forgot about what?!” you snap, eyes wide and chest heaving, with your hands raised up as if they were contaminated. Which they probably were with the rest of the stuff Ymir hid under her bed.

Ymir can barely get words out between gasps of laughter. “Bro, it’s the ice pack! The one Historia left down there weeks ago when she fucked up her knee!”

Historia nods furiously, laughing so hard she has to brace herself against the wall. “I— I was icing it while watching TV and then it just… stayed there.”

You stare at both of them, disgusted. “You two are feral. Ymir, I understand. But you, Historia?”

Ymir wipes a tear from her eye, finally catching her breath. If she laughed any harder, she'd be having an asthma attack. “Oh, man. You’re so fucking dramatic.”

You shake your head, completely over it, and reach back under, finally finding your missing sneaker. “If I die from some unknown bacteria because of you two, my ghost is haunting this place.”

Historia, still snickering, straightens up. “Noted. Now can we go? I need some Grey Goose in my system pronto.”

You dust yourself off and slip your shoe on. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go before I change my mind.”

Ymir hops off the dresser, slinging an arm around Historia’s shoulder. “Finally. I need a fucking drink.” With that, the three of you head out the door—completely unaware that tonight is about to be the beginning of something more dramatic than a damn Shakespeare play.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

“Bro, hurry the fuck up!” Connie yells from the living room, mouth probably full of chips if the muffled sound of his voice is anything to go by. “You take longer to get ready than my sister.”

“Shut up, Connie,” Eren calls back, dragging a comb through his hair one last time. He’s not even trying that hard—just the usual: white tee, black jeans, and a flannel he doesn't care all that much about just in case his overly drunk ass misplaces it. Simple. Easy. Still, something feels off, like he’s overthinking tonight. And Eren Jaeger never overthinks.

He steps back from the mirror, eyes scanning himself once more. Sharp jaw, messy hair that still somehow looks good, green eyes that’ve gotten him out of more trouble than he cares to admit. Yeah. Still got it. He grabs his phone from the bathroom counter, ignoring the flood of unread texts sitting in his inbox—three different girls, all wanting to know if they’d “run into him” tonight. His thumb hovers over one of their names for a second before he snorts to himself and shoves the phone in his back pocket. Not in the mood.

He’s not really sure what he’s in the mood for. Lately, all of it’s been feeling… boring. Same faces, same lines, same routine. A couple of drinks, a little flirting, and by the end of the night, they’re tangled up in his sheets. No attachments. No feelings. Easy. It’s supposed to be easy. But for some reason, Eren can’t shake this weird, restless feeling creeping under his skin tonight.

He walks into the living room, where Connie and Jean are already half a bottle deep into Eren’s liquor stash like they pay rent here or something. Connie’s stretched across the couch, feet shamelessly on the coffee table, while Jean flips through a playlist on his phone, back slightly hunched, sitting on top of one of the kitchen counters.

Jean glances up before doing a double take. “You’re still wearing that flannel?” Jean raises a brow. “Thought you’d retired it after that blonde last month—what was her name again?”

Eren rolls his eyes, snatching a bottle of Hennessy off the table. “Mind your business.”

Connie chortles. “Man, you are off tonight. Usually, you’re already texting some poor girl by now, setting up your after party plans.”

“Yeah, what gives?” Jean adds, leaning back against the cupboards. “Having an identity crisis or somethin'?”

Eren ignores both of them, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a swig. The burn slides smooth down his throat, but it doesn’t do much to quiet his thoughts. He doesn’t know why he’s on edge tonight—he’s been to a thousand of these. Same people, same drinks, same easy hookups. Girls who know what they’re getting into with him and guys who pretend not to care that Eren always seems to be the center of the room. But tonight? Tonight feels different.

Maybe it’s because Ymir mentioned that her cousin would be there—you—the so-called female version of him. He leers at the memory of Ymir's warning. The way she said you’d ruin him like it was an undeniable fact. Like it was already written in the stars. Like it was already decided. Please. No one ruins Eren Jaeger.

Connie’s voice cuts through again. “Ohhh wait.” His eyes narrow playfully. “This got something to do with Ymir’s cousin? What’s her name again?” Eren doesn't answer, just stays quiet. Connie grins. “y/n, right? Yeah, I heard bout her. She’s bad.”

Eren’s jaw flexes again, his grip tightening slightly around his phone. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Connie raises a brow, sparking up a blunt that he seemingly pulled out of thin air. “Means she's bad, bro. As in hot. As in way outta your league.” Connie takes a hit, pulling it back to see if it's burning just right before passing it to Eren, who takes it without glancing.

Eren scoffs, smoke curling from his lips. “No one’s outta my league.” He says it with the confidence of a man who’s never heard the word ‘no’ in a way that actually mattered. Since birth Eren had been one cocky son of a bitch, and for good reason too.

“Yeah? She might be.” Connie smirks, pouring himself another shot. "Heard she's already got a roster and she's barely been here a couple weeks."

Eren leans forward, resting his elbows on the kitchen counter, blunt dangling between his fingers. “So?”

“So,” Connie says, shrugging as knocks back the Hennessy like its water, “I’m just saying—she’s like you. Probably already got some dude lined up for tonight and won’t give a shit about whatever game you think you’re running.”

Eren’s tongue presses against his cheek, brows furrow and his gaze darkening. He doesn't like the way that sounds. Doesn’t like the idea of you brushing him off—of anyone brushing him off.

“She’s just another girl,” Eren mutters, more to himself than to Connie. “They all play hard to get till they aren’t.”

Connie laughs. “Yeah? Well, good luck with that.”

Eren takes another drag, holding the smoke in his lungs like he’s locking in a decision. On the outside, he’s calm, collected, the usual brand of cocky. But inside? Oh, he’s already made up his mind. If you’re really as untouchable as they say, there’s only one thing to do. Find out for himself.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

The bass shakes the walls, vibrating through the floorboards and straight into the bones of anyone standing too close to the speakers. Red plastic cups litter the countertops some half full some tipped over. The air is thick with the sting of liquor, the stench of sweat, and the occasional hint of weed. Floors sticky as they get covered in track marks.

Eren spots you the second you walk in. He doesn’t mean to. It’s not like he was waiting for you or anything. But the second the door swings open and you step inside, it’s like the party shifts. Like you shift the air just by being here.

And fuck, do you look good. Your hair is tousled, lips glossed, and that skimpy outfit—shit. Eren’s eyes flicker down for a split second, a slow smirk tugging at his lips as he takes in the way it clings to you just right. Top hugging your tits just right and skirt shifting with each step. He doesn’t even have to try to picture it bunched up around your hips. The thought just plants itself in his head like it belongs there. He exhales through his nose, rolling his jaw. He’s seen beautiful before. Had them in his bed, in his car, against bathroom sinks at parties just like this one. But there’s something different about this. About you.

And then? You fucking ignore him.

You and Historia weave through the crowd like you own the place with your arms interlinked, Ymir following close behind, and you don’t even spare him a glance. No knowing smirk, no subtle check-over, nothing. You just flick your hair over your shoulder and move straight for the kitchen, where a handful of people are already pouring drinks.

Eren’s smirk twitches. Oh. This is gonna be fun.

He watches as some guy—Jean, of all people—gravitates toward you, already pulling that smooth nice guy act. Eren doesn’t even have to hear the conversation to know exactly what’s happening. Jean leans in just a little, eyes dipping to your lips between words, smiling like he’s got a shot. And then you laugh—head tilted back just enough to make it look effortless. Eren’s fingers tighten around his cup.

Connie, now posted up against the wall beside him, follows his gaze and grins, letting out a low whistle. “Daaaamn,” he drawls out the single syllable just for the dramatics. “Jean’s already on that? Tough break, bro.”

Eren scoffs, tipping his drink back and swallowing slow like he wants the liquor to burn his throat on purpose. “Not my break to be tough.”

“Sure.” Connie sneers, stretching the word out like he’s not buying a damn thing. “So it’s not pissing you off that he’s—”

“I don’t give a fuck what he’s doing.” The words snap out faster than intended.

Connie raises a brow, like he’s just caught onto something real interesting. “Yeah? Then why do you look like you wanna knock his ass out?”

Eren doesn’t answer. Doesn’t need to. Instead, he pushes off the wall, weaving through the party with that lazy, self-assured stride that’s gotten him anything he’s ever wanted. People move out of his way without him even trying, girls trailing their eyes over him as he passes. But his focus? Locked. Jean is still talking, still smiling like he has a chance—until Eren’s presence shifts the entire energy of the space. Jean notices first. Then you do. And finally—you meet his eyes.

Eren doesn’t look away. He doesn’t break that charged stare, doesn’t let you see anything but that knowing smirk playing at his lips. You knew this was coming. You had to. The way your own lips curve at the edges tells him everything. He expects you to turn, to give him your full attention. After all, you're such a lucky girl to be graced with the presence of Eren Jaeger.

But no. You let out a soft snort, flipping your hair as you continue your conversation with Jean. Eren’s smirk falters for half a second. Oh, so that’s how you wanna play it? His grip tightens around his cup, but then—he laughs. A deep, low chuckle that rumbles through his chest as he tilts his head, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. You think you can just brush him off like that? Like he’s nobody?

Alright, sweetheart. Let’s see how long you last.

Eren leans back against the counter, swirling the liquor in his cup as he watches you, waiting for the moment you’ll crack and finally look at him. He’s patient—cocky, but patient. Girls always fold first. But you? You don’t even glance his way. Instead, you tilt your head at Jean, lashes fluttering just enough to make the poor guy swallow hard.

“You were saying?” you prompt, voice smooth as silk. Eyes looking up at him so steadfast, making him feel like the only boy in the world.

Jean blinks, briefly thrown off before he collects himself. “Uh—yeah. I was saying—you should totally let me take you out sometime.” He leans against the counter, confidence settling back into his stance. “No pressure. Just two good lookin' people getting food together. Maybe some drinks.”

You hum, pretending to consider it. “Sounds more like a date.”

Jean grins. “It can be. Or it can just be a good time. Your call.”

Eren scoffs under his breath, barely audible over the thrum of music. This guy. Jean thinks he’s smooth. Thinks he can keep your attention just because he’s playing nice. Cute.

You smirk, tipping your cup toward Jean. “I like the idea of a good time.”

Jean raises a brow. “Yeah?” Eren can just hear the excitement in his voice, the undertone of him surprised that you'd even consider it.

“Mhmm,” you sip, eyes flickering over him as you size him up and down. “And you’ve been looking real good tonight, Jean.” You can't deny that Jean is attractive. Six foot something, muscular but not too much. Stubble highlighting his sharp jawline.

Jean’s brows lift slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” You lean in a little, lowering your voice like you’re telling a secret. “Been hitting the gym, haven’t you?” Your breath is warm against his ear, subtle but effective. Jean tenses, then exhales through his nose, like he’s trying to play it cool.

Jean then chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck to calm his nervousness. “Maybe a little.”

“It’s working,” your voice is soft and sweet, masking your devilish intentions. A sly hand creeps up his arm, gently squeezing his bicep. Jean subconsciously flexes it, an obvious attempt to impress you.

Jean’s ears go a little pink, and Eren rolls his eyes. Jesus. This is painful. You’re just playing with the guy, toying with him like a cat with a string, and he’s eating it up. His fingers tighten around the rim of his cup. Pathetic. Jean’s lapping it up, oblivious to the fact that he’s just another name on your list, just another temporary distraction. And maybe that’s what really pisses Eren off.

Eren bites the inside of his cheek, swirling the liquor in his cup with a slow flick of his wrist. The ice rattles against the plastic, but his focus is razor sharp on you. On the way your fingers graze Jean’s forearm, the way your lips curve at something he says—something that wasn’t even funny. The sudden tug on his wrist rips his attention away.

"Eren," a voice purrs, dragging his name out like a slow sip of honey. He barely has time to register who it is before soft hands pull him away from the counter, dragging him into the depths of the party. He exhales sharply. Of course. One of the girls from Mikasa's sorority, Louise. She’s all over him before he even gets a word out, pressing against his side like she belongs there. “Where the hell have you been, Jaeger? Too good to say hi now?”

Eren scoffs, eyes flickering toward the kitchen one last time, but you’re still wrapped up in Jean, still laughing at whatever dumb thing he’s saying, still not sparing Eren a single glance. Fine. He lets Louise pull him toward the hallway, weaving through sweaty bodies and the fog of cheap liquor and weed. Her grip is possessive, like she thinks she can stake some kind of claim over him just because they fucked once. They stop near the base of the stairs, away from the worst of the party but still close enough that the music pulses through the walls.

“I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” Louise hums, pressing a manicured hand to his chest, almond shaped nails scraping lightly over the fabric of his shirt as she tilts her chin up, batting her false lashes. Eren notices the inner corner of her strip lash lifting up a bit, making her look wonky, but he doesn't care enough to say anything.

Eren’s smirk is lazy, practiced. “Should I be?”

Her lips part slightly, caught between intrigue and challenge. “I don’t know. You tell me.” Flashing him a smile, she tilts her head to the side, blue eyes trying to pierce through the emotional wall Eren currently had up.

Eren exhales through his nose, tipping his head back slightly, bored. She’s doing that thing—the same thing every girl does when they want to get a second round with him. Soft touches, sultry looks, a voice dipped in sugar and suggestion. It’s textbook.

It would be so easy. He could take her upstairs, let her kill the frustration building in his chest, let her drag him under and replace the image of you and Jean still talking. Laughing. Touching. But when he looks down at Louise—he doesn’t see you. Doesn’t feel anything.

His jaw tightens, body burning with frustrations that you're the irritating source of. “Not happening.”

Louise blinks dumbfounded, jaw going slack. “What?”

Eren steps back, shaking her hand off his chest. “I’m good. Go find someone else.”

Her lips part, the briefest flicker of shock crossing her face before it hardens into something sharper. Annoyance, maybe. Embarrassment. Either way, she doesn’t like it. “You’re serious?”

Eren just shrugs, rolling his shoulders as he shoves his hands into his pockets, already feeling like this conversation is a complete waste of his precious time. “Dead serious.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms, agitation showing in her posture as one leg steps out, her hip pointed. “You really think you’re all that, huh?”

He just shrugs. Doesn’t deny it. Pursing his lips and swirling his solo cup of henny and coke, waiting for her to catch the damn hint and kick rocks.

“Whatever,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “Your loss.” She flips her hair and stalks off, disappearing into the party with a dramatic sway of her hips.

Eren exhales, rolling his tongue over his teeth with a tchht before turning back toward the kitchen. And when he does—you’re looking right at him. Not with jealousy. Not with anger. Just amusement. Like you knew this would happen all along. Eren smirks, shaking his head slightly as he lifts up his drink to his pink lips. He takes a slow sip, holding your gaze over the rim of his cup.

You hold eye contact for a small second before you turn your attention back to Jean. He's actually such a sweetheart you're genuinely enjoying the conversation. Which was... refreshing. You don't remember when the last time you had such an interesting conversation with a person of the opposite sex. One that didn't consist of hook ups or how 'fuckin' hot' you looked.

Jean was in the middle of a passionate tangent about Sailor Moon being able to solo Goku if they were to go one on one. It was cute to see such a straight browed guy defend a shoujo protagonist against the poster boy for shonens.

“I know, I know. Everyone always goes ‘But Goku’s a Super Saiyan, blah blah blah,’ right? But Sailor Moon—she’s got that moon power, bro. You know how powerful the moon is? No one knows the moon’s potential. It’s like, this massive source of energy.” He takes a few more gulps of his drink, making that little ahh' sound before he continues, “And Goku’s just a dude, right? Yeah, he’s got all this strength, but Sailor Moon? She’s literally a magical being. She can manipulate the power of the moon—and that’s not even the best part. She’s got that Silver Crystal, man. That thing can destroy entire universes. If Goku’s even trying to throw a Kamehameha at her, she can just use that to, like, wipe him out before he even finishes charging it.”

Jean huffs out a breath, swaying slightly as he sets his drink down. All that Jameson was going straight through him. “Shit—I gotta take a piss.” He flashes you an easy grin, thumb pointing over his shoulder toward the hallway. “Don’t go anywhere, yeah?”

You let out a tiny laugh of air, smiling as he gives you a flushed boyish grin. “No promises.”

Jean chuckles, rolling his eyes playfully before he disappears into the crowded party. You shake your head, turning back toward the counter, scrolling through your phone like you’re not hyperaware of the gaze burning into the side of your face. Then, before you can even process it—he’s there. A slow, lazy presence stepping into your space like he belongs there. You don’t look up, don’t acknowledge him, but you hear the way he exhales, the entitlement practically dripping from his voice.

"You done playing yet?" It’s smooth, teasing, but there’s an edge underneath. Like he's nagging like an impatient child.

You hum, taking another sip from your drink, still not looking at him as you half watch people's instagram stories. “Playing what?”

Eren chuckles, trying to cover the bratty scoff that somehow leaves his breath. You can hear the way he shifts, arms crossing, the way he fixes his stance. "You tell me."

Finally, you glance up, tilting your head as your squinted eyes flick over him. Jaw tight, bottom lip catching in his teeth, biceps flexing under his shirt like he doesn’t even realize it. Oh, he’s pissed. Amused, but still pissed. Your lips part, a retort on your tongue—

"y/n, we gotta go. Like right now." Ymir’s voice slices through the tension like a blade. You blink, turning just in time to see her hoisting Historia up by the waist, the blonde giggling into her shoulder. "Before Christina Aguillera here falls off another table and gets a concussion," Ymir grumbles, adjusting her grip as Historia hiccups dramatically. You sigh, downing the rest of your drink before setting the cup down. Eren is still looking at you, now frowning like a child whose ice cream just fell off the cone.

You smirk, letting your eyes trail over him one last time before pushing off the counter. “Night, Jaeger.”

Eren exhales sharply as he watches you leave. That was his shot. He should’ve said something—should’ve done something. But no. You slipped away. He licks his lips, tongue pressing against his cheek as he tips his head back, exhaling through his nose.

"You got it all nice and measured out?" Eren finally speaks, walking up to you. It takes you out of your concentration, your eyes on the tiny numbers on the beams of the scale. You look up at him, eyes now full of hearts. Ohhh how good he looked in that Versace silk button up. The way the collar drooped, showing just the right amount of chest.

"Uh huh. The perfect kilo. Not a gram more, not a gram less," you smile at the porcelain-colored mountain, honestly proud of yourself. It had taken you a while to get to this level of precision.

Eren puts a hand under your chin, "That's my good girl." His fingers caress the underside of your jawline. You give him a dimply smile in return, beaming from the praise. The intoxicating weight of his approval was almost heavier than the kilo in front of you. Eren’s gaze burns into you, his green eyes tracing the shape of your plump lips and then shifting downward to the work you’d just completed.

With a glint in his eye, he tilts your chin up just a little more, the pad of his thumb brushing slowly over your bottom lip. "Look at you, all grown up," he murmurs, his voice low and honey-thick, that rough edge of pride lacing every word. You held your breath, pulse quickening under his touch. “Think you can handle the next batch on your own?” he teases, fingers drifting to your cheek, then back to the hard line of your jaw. “Or will you still need me to keep an eye on you?”

You swallowed, hardly managing to hold back a mischievous grin. “Maybe I’d like it better with you here,” you reply, running your hand slowly down the smooth fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his chest through the silk. He just looked too yummy to keep your hands to yourself. Eren’s lips quirked at your touch, his hand settling on the small of your back as he leans in close, his breath hot against your skin.

“You know I’ll always be here to make sure my girl gets it just right,” he hums, his voice sending a thrill down your spine as he presses his mouth softly against your neck, tasting the heat of your skin. The air between you was thick, charged, the slightest pressure away from setting things ablaze.

As his fingers trace down your back, your mind hazily drifts to what this life had turned you into—a girl who could measure out yayo with the same precision Eren used when he unraveled you, his skillful hands claiming you with a possessiveness only his world could breed. A world that made him greedy and a little bit selfish. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, a mischievous smirk on his face as he sizes you up. There was an intensity there, a look that spoke volumes—a dangerous combination of trust, desire, and something else that was just… Eren. It made your knees weak.

“Why don’t you wrap it up for me, then?” he asks, nodding toward the carefully measured pile of powder on the scale pan. “Let’s see if you’ve mastered that part too.”

You took a steadying breath, giving him a smirk of your own. He liked to test you, liked to push you to see how far you could go in his world—and you loved every second of it. The thrill, the risk, and knowing you had Eren’s undivided attention was addictive. Carefully, you start the process of wrapping the package, feeling the weight of his gaze follow your every move. Taking a card, some random fake ID, you start to sift the snow into the cocaine mold, already having prepped it by placing the cellophane wrap inside.

Once all 2.2 pounds are inside the metal casing, you use the press, placing both hands on top to make sure it's packed in tight. Eren can't help but salivate at the way your tits press together in the process, almost popping out of that flimsy tank top. As delicate as you possibly can, you lift the edges of the cellophane out of the press, placing the newly formed rectangle on the table gingerly.

With a tender touch you wrap the excess cellophane around the shape before sealing it off with tan packing tape. Once you know it's nice and sealed up you grab thicker kitchen wrap, encasing the now sturdy block in multiple layers of the plastic vinyl.

Finally finished, you hold up the neatly wrapped brick, meeting his gaze with a look of confidence. “Perfect, just like you wanted.”

He took the package from your hands, inspecting it with a slow, approving nod. "Not bad," he says, though his eyes held a sparkle that told you he was more than satisfied. "I taught you well, baby."

Without warning, he leans in and snakes an arm behind your lower back. Pulling you close, pressing you against the edge of the grand table. The kilo is softly tossed to the side, now being forgotten in lieu of Eren's choice of drug, his baby girl. His lips capture yours, hard and hungry, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all day. The taste of him was intoxicating—sharp and sweet, like the Russian Cream Backwood he had smoked earlier. The excess nicotine in his mouth now numbing your lips. Your breaths became heavy and full of him; a mix of cologne and smoke, of the kind of danger and excitement that no amount of money could buy.

Your fingers found their way into his hair as he kissed you deeper, his rough hands roaming over your body like he couldn’t get enough. The heat of his touch made you feel lightheaded, your mind hazy and focused solely on him. Although your mind was always focused on him ever since he had entered your life.

"You’ve earned a little reward," he mumbles against your lips, one hand slipping down to your thigh, sliding slowly, deliberately up your skirt. The coldness of his gold Palma chain bracelet sending shivers through your body. In contrast his breath was hot against your skin, and you could feel his grin as he left a trail of sloppy, lust filled kisses down your neck. "What do you say?"

Your heart raced, and you didn’t need to answer—he already knew. You were his, completely and utterly, caught in his web of desire, danger, and dark thrills that always kept you coming back for more. Simply put you were definitely addicted to Eren Yeager.

Eren’s fingers trace up your thigh, slow and teasing, pushing the hem of your skirt higher as he presses you harder against the edge of the table. You could feel your pulse racing under his touch, his lips trailing along your exposed collarbone with a heated urgency that made you melt. Every nerve in your body was alive, aware of every brush of his skin against yours, every inhale and exhale of his breath as he claimed you.

“Look at you,” he mutters, his voice low, almost reverent. Thumb skimming the inside of your thigh, making your breath hitch. “You’ve come so far, my pretty girl. From dime bags to kilos, and now…” He leans in, his lips brushing your ear. “Now, you’re exactly where you belong.”

Eren's words sends shocks through you, a sense of pride mixed with something deeper, something raw. There was a part of you that had always wanted this—wanted to feel useful in his world, trusted and treasured by him in a way that no one else could understand. With Eren, you weren’t just someone to spoil or protect anymore. You were his partner, his equal, his mutual addiction.

Lust drunk, he lifts you onto the table, hands firm on your waist as he positions you exactly how he wants, his hungry gaze never leaving yours. Eren doesn’t say anything as he spreads your legs, fingers tracing over the soft lacy fabric between them, making you tingle. Looking down at you, cheekbones and jawline sharp, he puts you in a fawn-like state. You hold his gaze, heart thumping as he leans in, his mouth hot against yours.

“Tell me you want this,” he whispers, his voice sweet and heavy like molasses. Rough fingers slip beneath your now dampened panties, finding you warm and wanting, and you can no longer hold back the soft moan that escapes your lips. Slowly he starts to rub your pearl, causing more heat to pool to your sensitive area.

“I want this,” you manage to say between moans, your words melting into a whimper as his fingers move against you, slow and skilled. “I want you, Eren.” Your eyes are glossed over with desire, bottom lip pouting as your body begs for more.

He gave a low, satisfied chuckle, eyes darkening as he watches your reactions, drinking in every tremor, every shaky sigh. “Good,” he says, his voice carnal. “Because I want all of you, every last piece.” With that he presses closer, his touch growing bolder, his kisses deeper and more demanding. A slender finger now makes its way into you, pressing into your spongy walls, collecting all the slickness that was dripping from your entrance. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, losing yourself in the feeling of his body against yours.

As Eren adds another finger you start to unbutton his silk shirt. Fervent yet careful as to not pop one off. You would be in for it if you were to ruin his brand new fifteen-hundred-dollar shirt. Eyelids heavy with longing, you look up at him through your thick lashes. Eren is a sight to behold, bottom lip tucked tightly in between his pearly white teeth, brows etched together in prurience. He looks absolutely gorgeous, body defined and toned, muscles flexing with every movement he makes. Eren's fingers move at a moderate pace with stern pressure. Just enough to get your juices flowing, but not enough to make you any closer to cumming.

"Faster baby," you whine out as your hips grind against his digits. Eren smirks, looking down at you as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers. Listening to your pleas, he picks up the pace. You hum out as he does so, muttering out a quick 'thank you' under your breath. Looking down at the lewd sight, you notice he was only going one knuckle deep, was he really holding out on you? So much for a reward. "Deeper, Ren." Another whine leaves your throat.

"You're such a needy princess, aren't you?" Eren does as you wish, pushing his fingers in as deep as he can. Adding his thumb to your clit makes your eyes flutter, a wave of stimulus making your legs twitch. Loving the reaction your body gives him, he decides to add a third finger, all three digits now swirling from the bottom of your chasm to curl up into the top of your mound. It sounds nasty, the squelches coming from your cunt as he toys with it.

"You made me like this," you manage to say, your lips staying parted as you watch him add that third finger. The way it starts to spread you, stretch you out with that soft sting. The way those three fingers glisten with your slickness as he pumps them in and out of you. Eren thinks your pink lips look so pretty parted like that, they'd probably look better if they were put to work. Taking advantage of your attention being elsewhere, he takes his other hand, placing it under your chin as his thumb slips between your plump lips with ease. Your big doe eyes look up at him and he gets even harder as you look at him with that needy, (not so) innocent looking face. You moan around his thumb, almost wanting to bite it if you weren't lulling in and out of a pleasure induced daze.

"I did huh, made you so needy and spoiled," he grunts, adding force to his fingering to emphasize his words. Each forceful pump making you mewl, back arching. Eren loves watching you come undone beneath him, your legs jerking just from his fingers. The way your brows knit in pleasure, eyes rolling back as your breaths are light and quick. It's a beautiful sight, one that he never gets tired of. "Anything else my needy girl needs? Hm?" He asks as he takes his thumb out of your mouth, the cute little 'pop' it makes causing him to smile.

You nod fervently, "Need your dick inside me." You yank him by his Medusa belt buckle, pulling him closer as you try to undo it. Maybe it was the way you were trying with such rushed neediness, but it seemed impossible, with you cursing at the overcomplicated belt. Eren lets out a low chuckle as he pulls his fingers out of you, causing you to snap out of your thirsty tunnel vision. Fuck, you looked so cute looking up at him with that confused look on your face.

"Impatient, are we princess?" Shaking his head, he leans down and places a kiss to your temple. Instead of watching you fumble with his belt, he starts to do it himself, still chuckling at how insistent you were in your failed attempts.

"Jus' need you so bad," you respond, watching him undo the belt with ease. He tugs it out of his belt loops, half thinking about using it to restrain you or whoop you, but he remembers how good of a girl you have been, how he needs to reward you. His jeans drop to the floor with his boxers following suit. Your eyes don't leave the delicious sight of his V-line and happy trail as you hurriedly yank your panties off and toss them to the side.

"You're such a needy little thing, princess. You want my cock that badly, huh?" Eren playfully tilts his head as he gathers the precum leaking out of his tip, starting to pump himself as he watches you spread your legs instinctively. All you could do is give him a whiny 'uh huh' as you tug at his unbuttoned shirt, lust making your brain foggy. He laughs inwardly at your response, enjoying how easily you turn ditzy when you were sex hungry.

"Look at you, baby. So desperate for me. You're gonna look so pretty when I split you open right now," Dropping his shirt off his shoulders, Eren's hands move to your thighs, gripping them as he forces your legs open even more. He does a little double tap with the head of his dick, the heavy pats on your clit making you whine even more. He just had to tease you huh? Before you could say anything bratty, he pushes himself inside, a quick little push that forces a squeak of a moan out of you.

Eren pauses for just a moment, reveling in the way you felt around him, and you watched the flash of satisfaction in his eyes as he sank deeper, inch by agonizing inch. Your walls clenched around him, drawing him in, and his grip on your thighs tightened, nails grazing your skin. He loved seeing you like this—overwhelmed, consumed, all because of him.

“You feel that baby?” his voice is horse, dripping with satisfaction as he thrust into you slowly, relishing each whimper that leaves your lips. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” One of his hands cradles the back of your head, holding you up as you give into the pleasure. All you could manage was a nod, biting down on your lip as his rhythm began to build. The table beneath you creaked as he rocked you against it, each push and pull stoking the fire between you, making you shiver with every heartbeat.

“Tell me, princess,” he whispers into your ear, his voice dropping to a low, husky tone that made your insides flutter. “Tell me who you belong to.” His thrusts grew deeper, each one filling you completely, fingers digging into your hips, anchoring you to him.

“You, Ren,” you moan out, head tilting back as he sensually rams inside of you. “I belong to you.” Your brain is reciting romantic sonnets, love letters to the man that simply translate into airy moans. But hey, they would both be music to his ears.

The possessive gleam in his eyes only grows, and he holds you tighter, moving faster now, every motion a reminder of the hold he has over you, of the way he had shaped you into the woman you were now. And with every thrust, every whispered word, you found yourself surrendering even more, letting yourself fall further into the passion and darkness that only Eren could bring out in you.

Rough hands meet your chest, palming you through your thin tank top and bra. "Y'know, your tits looked fuckin' amazing as you were pressing that brick. All squeezed together and shit." Pulling the stretchy material of the tank top down, Eren removes your bra straps from your shoulders, letting the bra fall and rest around your waist as he grabs handfuls of your tits. Thumbs prod at your nipples, flicking at them like little joysticks as he jiggles the flesh and toys with them. He pushes them together, imitating how they looked when they were clamped between your arms.

"Yeah? it looked good daddy?" You purr under a lustfully lidded gaze, your soft hands making their way on top of his as he fondled your boobs. He groans, feeling your body arch up to meet him, and a wicked grin spreads across his face as he dips down, claiming your lips in a kiss that stole every last bit of breath you had left. In that moment, nothing else mattered—just the heat of his body against yours, the intoxicating rush of his touch, and the knowledge that you were exactly where you belonged.

Eren can't help but be proud of how much you grew. Of who you grew into. When he first met you, you were just a sweet college girl trying to make ends meet by being a bottle girl. A little too naive and trusting, but he loved that about you. He still does. Now you were more mature, much wiser. Having learned so much from him, which made you forever grateful and dedicated to him. If he wasn't balls deep inside of you, he would shed some tears.

"I fucking love you baby," guttural grunts leave his throat as he pulls you flush against his sweaty chest, hands tangled in your hair as he planted breathy kisses to the top of your head. Your arms wrap around him, palms flat against his shoulder blades.

"I love you too, daddy. More than you know," your voice was soft, trying to keep from screaming in this almost love making moment. His length was getting to you, starting to see stars as he hit deep up inside you, tip touching your cervix. "I'm close, Ren." In that moment, nothing else mattered—the stacks of cash, the drugs and contraband, the danger that came with his world. All that existed was Eren, his touch, his voice, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered. Your face is buried in his chest, leaving open kisses as 'thank you's' for fucking you so good. Your nails leave light scratches on his back, slightly stinging him but Eren loved the pain.

Eren’s hold on you tightens, his pace unrelenting as he buries himself deeper, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. Hearing you say those words, feeling your body responding to his with such devotion, drove him wild. His hands start to roam your back, his fingers pressing into your skin as if trying to memorize every inch of you, and he couldn’t help but lean down, whispering against your ear with a husky breath, “Then let go for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

His movements grew more intense, the friction almost unbearable as he watched you unravel beneath him, every inch of you trembling in his arms. Eren leans back just enough to capture your gaze, his eyes locked on yours, full of passion and pure love. “Come on, beautiful,” he coaxes, his voice like velvet, the warmth of his breath brushing over your skin. “I want to feel every bit of it.”

Your body finally surrenders, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you cling to him, crying out his name. Eren watches with satisfaction, feeling your walls tighten and pulse around him, pulling him even deeper. Upon thrusting out, he sees your cream painted on his shaft, more of your slickness dripping and puddling on the table. Cracked moans escape your glossy lips, strands of hair covering your face. In this moment—and every moment really—you were his muse. All Eren can do is look at you in awe, how perfect you looked all fucked out. Makes him want to fuck you even harder. Which he does, grip on you tight as he forcefully slams into your cunt. You can't help but scream at the overstimulation, the way he starts to pound into your cervix. Acrylic nails scrape his biceps, your legs are shaking as they wrap around him. The intensity of it all took his breath away, and with a final thrust, he loses himself in you, his body giving in as he harshly whispers your name like a prayer. The room goes still, your hearts pounding in sync, and as he held you close, Eren felt a deep, raw connection with you—a feeling he knew he’d never have with anyone else.

When he finally pulls back, his breathing heavy, he looks at you with a smile, thumb tracing over your flushed cheek. “My girl,” he whispers, words filled with a possessive pride that makes your heart race. “You did so well. You always do so good for me, baby.” A kiss is placed atop your head as he brushes his fingers through your sex tangled hair.

You're leaning on his chest still, catching your breath, still wrapped in the lingering warmth of his touch. Eren’s fingers trace lazy circles over your skin, his demeanor softening in a way he rarely showed to anyone but you. There was a comfort here, in this silence between the two of you, something almost domestic in the way he held you, thumb brushing tenderly over your arm as he hums a familiar tune you can't quite put your finger on at the moment, brain still fuzzy.

But the moment was fleeting. You knew that with Eren, there was always something else lurking beneath the surface, a restlessness that could never quite be satisfied, a thrill he always chased. And now, the look in his eyes shifted, a spark flickering as he reached for the package you'd so carefully prepared.

“You know,” he began, holding up the kilo, “it’s my last drop of the night.” His lips curled into that mischievous smirk you knew too well. “Want to come with me?”

You perk up, "Really? You actually want me to go with you to drop off?" Eren had never asked you to accompany him when delivering product. Always kept you behind the scenes. Always wanted to keep you safe. The thought of it sent a shiver of excitement through you—a chance to step fully into his world, side-by-side, as more than just his girl waiting for him at home.

"Uh huh, so you coming, or what?" He starts to get dressed, grabbing his boxers and jeans that are pooled on the floor and lifting them up. Body still sweaty and now coated in sex fluids, he feels a little less than clean. But business has to be handled before he can finally relax, right? Once he gets back home, he plans to take a long, drawn-out bubble bath with you nested between his legs anyway.

"Course I'll go," hopping off the table, you place your panties back on, core still soaked with both yours and Eren's arousal. Shaky fingers lift your bra straps back in place along with your tank top.

"Good." Eren's already dressed, your oversized fur coat in his hands, ready to place it on you. Giving him a cute little curtsy, you oblige and turn around, slipping your arms into the weighted sleeves. He grabs his jacket from the back of a chair and tosses it over his shoulder, slinging an arm around your waist as you followed him out of the stash house, heels clicking softly against the concrete. Eren’s car was parked just outside, sleek and dark, a perfect reflection of him. Of course he opens the car door for you, the gentleman he very much is, his hand out for balance even though you really didn't need it.

Eren slides into the driver’s seat beside you, his hand immediately finding yours after he starts the engine, casting you a playful smirk while reversing out of the driveway. “It’s about time you saw what your man’s really up to,” he teases, his grip on your hand firm and reassuring, placing a kiss on your knuckles. The notion has you melting, biting your lip as you looked at Eren with such puppy love. Of course he notices your enamored expression, making him smug, giving you a wink before his gaze returns to the road, his jaw clenched with that familiar intensity you’d come to love, the kind that made him magnetic, impossible to resist. It took everything in you not to lean over that center console, shower him and kisses and maybe even suck him off. But that could all wait until after the black duffle bag full of cocaine bricks was out of the backseat.

As he drove, you felt the thrill of the unknown rising in your chest, a mix of anticipation and excitement settling in your stomach. The city lights stream by, casting flashes of color across Eren’s face, highlighting the sharpness of his cheekbones, the glint of determination in his eyes. With him, everything felt like an adventure. It was his world, and tonight, he was letting you in.

Eren kept his hand on yours, fingers intertwined, thumb brushing softly over your knuckles in contrast to the hard edge of his persona behind the wheel. The gesture made you feel secure, as if he were grounding you, silently reassuring you that no matter what, he’d protect you.

It wasn’t long before he pulled into a secluded spot by the docks, where the only sounds were the distant crashing of waves and the occasional creak of metal. The car pulls behind a nondescript building by the water, lights dimmed, giving off an eerie feeling. Cutting the engine, Eren turns to you, “Stay close to me, alright?” His voice is serious now, the usual playfulness fading as he shifted into the role he wore so well—the Eren that commanded a room with just a look, the one people feared and respected in equal measure. But he softens slightly as his eyes meet yours. “Trust me?”

You smile, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Always.” Eren’s smile grew, a glint of pride in his eyes, as if he knew you were ready for this, that you could handle it. And in that moment, you knew, too. Stepping out of the car, he opens the back door to grab that packed black duffle bag that was going to turn into an enormous amount of cash. Hoisting it over his shoulder, Eren then goes around the car and opens your door as he always does, holding out a hand for you to step out. As you finally step out Eren can't help but cup your cheeks in his hands, thumbs skimming over your cheeks as he looks at you with a look you couldn't even describe. A bit of pride, a bit of nervousness, all love.

Leading you to the back of the building, right near the edge of the black looking water of the docks, you could hear the faint hum of the city in the distance, but here, it was quiet, almost unnaturally so. The night air was sharp and cold against your skin, and Eren’s hand in yours felt grounding, warm, steady.

He glances at you, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he led you to a side door, knocking three times in a rhythmic pattern. You’d heard Eren talk about his drops before, knew there was always an order to it—a certain number of knocks, a password, a specific point of contact. But you’d never seen it up close. Now, as you watched him in his element, the man you loved was almost unrecognizable. Gone was the softness he showed you, replaced by a cold confidence, a sense of purpose that made him seem larger than life.

The door creaks open, and a man with a buzzed head and tattoos creeping up his neck appears in the doorway, giving Eren a respectful nod. “Yo, Yeager,” he greets him gruffly, eyes briefly flicking to you, curious but expressionless. Eren nods back, mumbling a brief 'w'sup' as he pulls you close, arm wrapping securely around your waist as he led you into the building.

The hallway was dim, narrow, with walls that looked like they hadn’t seen a fresh coat of paint in decades. The air smelled faintly of cigarettes and some type of cleaning chemicals, and you felt little butterflies in your stomach, the thrill of stepping into Eren’s world fully, of seeing firsthand what he did when he wasn’t with you. You walked in sync, your heels clicking softly against the worn linoleum floor as the man led you down the corridor and up a flight of stairs.

Once you reached the top, you enter a room that was just as worn and dull as the hallway below. A battered leather couch sat against one wall, facing a scratched coffee table cluttered with empty beer bottles, playing cards, and loose cash. On a makeshift setup sat a small tv, one of those small 2010's plasma tv's, some public access cable playing on it as no one watched. A few men were scattered around the room, some leaning against the walls playing dice, others sitting on the couch, each one looking up as you and Eren entered. Their gazes were appraising, curious. But there was a silent understanding between them and Eren—a respect that was unspoken but clear. Eren wasn’t just another face to these people. He was something more.

With a subtle nod, Eren acknowledged the room. Even in this rough environment, he commanded respect with a quiet authority, an edge to him that everyone just seemed to feel. They offered him gestures, some lifting chins in greeting, others murmuring a quick “What's good, Eren,” before returning to their game. But when their eyes landed on you, it was as though a wave of curiosity washed over the room. Eren kept you close, his hand firm on your waist, making it clear you weren’t just some girl he’d brought along. You were his, and in this world, that meant something.

“Yeager, man,” one of the men on the couch breaks the silent tension, his eyes flicking to you briefly, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Didn’t know you’d be bringing company.”

Eren didn’t bother to respond directly. Instead, just giving the man a nod, his hand still resting protectively on your waist. “Let’s just get down to business,” he said, voice calm but authoritative. He pulled you along with a confident ease, guiding you over to a workbench that definitely looks out of place. He lets go of you just long enough to set the duffle bag down as the men gather around the table, eyes fixed on the bundle. The man with the buzzed head, the one who’d opened the door, gestures for Eren to unzip it, and you watch as the two exchange a quick, wordless understanding. The bag comes open, exposing its contents—wrapped kilos of powder neatly lined up inside, stacked with almost clinical precision. There was a surreal quality to it, the weight of the moment settling as you saw firsthand the pieces of Eren’s world.

Another one of them—a wiry guy with boxcar scars and a slacked jaw—pulls out a small pocketknife and slices through the layers of plastic wrap, peeling back each layer to reveal the pristine white powder within. You watch, transfixed, as they inspect it, measuring it out with a scale, nodding in approval.

“Looks good. Quality work, as usual,” Buzzcut says, his gaze shifting to you with a curious glint. “Wasn't aware you had someone helping you out, Yeager.”

Eren’s hand wraps around your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he spoke, his tone low and assertive, carrying an edge. “She’s my girl. And she’s just as good as I am.”

The words made you stand a little taller, pride swelling in your chest as you felt the weight of his approval. It was a rare thing for Eren to show off any part of this life to others, especially when it came to you. To even let his two separate worlds collide. But here, he was doing exactly that—claiming you, letting the room know that you were someone they could trust. It was exhilarating, a glimpse into a side of him that was usually kept hidden.

The man with the scars gave you a nod, his smirk softening slightly as he purses his lips. “Well, if she’s good enough for you, Yeager, then she’s good enough for us.” Buzzcut gives an agreeing nod, before signaling to one of the others to count out stacks of cash. Eren accepts the money with practiced ease, slipping the large manila envelope into his jacket pocket before handing off the duffle. It was smooth, efficient, like a transaction he’d done countless times before, yet there was something different this time, a new layer as he glances at you and sees the awe in your eyes.

The deal wraps up quickly, Eren’s hand never leaving yours as he led you back out, giving brief nods to the men as they exchanged quick, quiet goodbyes. When you reach the hallway, he pauses, turning to look at you, his eyes softening as the door clicked shut behind you.

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” he asked, his tone gentle, thumbs brushing over your knuckles in a soothing gesture.

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Not at all. I actually…kind of liked it,” you admit, your voice low but sincere. “I liked seeing you like this. Seeing what you do.”

Eren’s lips curve into a slow, proud smile, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I wanted you to see it, to understand. You’re part of this now, too. Part of me.”

"I'm happy you trust me enough to let me even see this part of you," your manicured nails softly caressing his fingers as you look at him with gratitude.

"Course, princess. I trust you with my life. I love you," Eren wraps his arms around you, bringing you in his embrace. "Now let's go home and take a longggg bath. That room was hotboxed with cigarettes I feel like I reek." A smile forms on his lips, which rested on the top of your head. Eren turns you towards the dingy stairway, pressing one last kiss to the back of your head as he leads you out, his steps sure and calm, guiding you back down the dimly lit hallway.

As you walked back to the car, hand in hand, you realized something. Being with Eren wasn’t just about the thrill or the luxury or even the danger. It was about trust, a bond deeper than words, a connection that ran beneath everything else. And as you slipped into the car beside him, his fingers intertwining with yours, you knew you wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

The car hums as Eren started it up, pulling back onto the road with that effortless ease he had, every move calculated, every glance a mixture of mischief and calm control. The night stretched out ahead of you, the neon glow of the city lights casting a warm hue over the two of you as you left the docks behind.

"How’d it feel?" he finally asks without nervousness, eyes flicking over to you with that lopsided smirk you adored. "Being in on the action for real?"

You took a deep breath, letting the excitement settle as you thought it over. "It felt... powerful," you divulge, squeezing his hand in return. "But honestly? I think I just liked being by your side."

Eren chuckles, his gaze softening in a way that made you feel like you were the only person who could break down his walls. “Good answer,” he says, lifting your hand to his lips and brushing a gentle kiss over your knuckles. “Means you’ve got your priorities straight.”

You melt at his words, heart gushing and legs squeezing together. "Yeah, got my priorities straight?" Watching his face, the way he's so nonchalant and smug, all you can do is bite your lip. God, why does he always have to look so delicious?

"Mmhmm, my lil 03' Bonnie," he teases as he kisses your hand again, eyes not leaving the road. You were back downtown, close to the apartment. Cars and pedestrians littered the streets still despite the lateness of the night.

"Okay Jay Z," you giggle, head shoving into his arm that's rested on the center console. The adrenaline high that you had received from earlier had now died down, feeling that soft mellowness that was familial to one of an after sex high. Just simple pure bliss and the feeling of amor.

Eren pulls up to the front of the apartment building, too tired and too ready to get you in that bubble bath that he uses the valet, something he only occasionally did. Handing the keys to the valet, Eren opens the passenger door, extending a hand for you to grab. You balance yourself, feet tired from wearing those damn YSL Debbie platform pumps. Eren's hand immediately finding the small of your back as he leads you into the lobby, the late-night desk attendant looking up with a considerate nod.

As you step into the elevator, you both lean against each other, exhaustion finally settling in now that the thrill of the evening had faded. Eren was ready to go back to being domestic and loving, he wanted to put aside the drugs and dealing for the rest of the night.

Inside the quiet of the apartment, Eren wraps you in his arms from behind, his warmth against your back as he leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Come on, let’s get that bath going,” he murmurs, his voice a low, affectionate rumble.

You nod, leaning into him, savoring the feel of his strong arms around you. Together, you make your way to the bathroom, and he gets the water running, adding bubbles and checking the temperature as you sit on the edge, watching him with a smile. There was a certain sweetness to the way he moved for you, the way he could switch so effortlessly from dope dealer to lover.

When the bath is ready, Eren helps you undress, taking his time as his hands brush over your skin, his eyes darkening with tenderness as he admires you. You step into the warm water together, and as he wraps his arms around you, drawing you close in the foamy, fragrant warmth, you know without a doubt that you were exactly where you were meant to be—by his side, no matter where that led.

As he leans down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and resting his head against yours, you feel a sense of peace settling over you. In all honesty you could fall asleep right then and there, with Eren massaging your black vanilla shampoo into your hair. With each gentle touch, you feel yourself melting into him, the steady beat of his heart against your back calming you in a way only he could.

Eren tilts his head, nuzzling into the curve of your neck before planting a tender kiss on your skin. “You know,” he murmurs, voice softened with affection, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this lucky.” His words are a low whisper, meant just for you, and they carry a rawness that leaves you breathless.

Turning in his arms to face him, you find his gaze already fixed on you, eyes full of that rare vulnerability he only shows you. You reach up, cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing softly over his jawline as you smile. “I’m the lucky one, Eren. Just getting to be here, to be with you like this... I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

A smile tugs at his lips, that slight, crooked smile you adore, and he leans in, closing the distance between you in a slow, sweet kiss. It’s gentle, unhurried, as if he’s savoring every second, pouring all his unspoken feelings into it. His hand drifts up to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss, his touch both tender and possessive.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you feel his breath against your lips as he whispers, “I’ll keep you safe. No matter what.” His hand moves down to rest over your heart, feeling the steady beat beneath his palm as if grounding himself in the moment.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close, pressing a kiss to his temple as he relaxes into your embrace. The water sloshes softly around you as you both sink deeper into the warmth, sharing this quiet, intimate moment, content to just be in each other’s presence. The outside world fades away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, savoring the quiet joy of being together.

Eren pulls you even closer, his hand moving slowly up and down your back as he speaks in a soft, almost bashful tone. “I can’t believe you put up with all this,” he says, a hint of wonder in his voice. “My life... it’s messy, but somehow, you’re always here, right by my side.” He kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering there as he takes a deep breath, as if absorbing the comfort of having you close.

You tilt your head up, catching his gaze with a reassuring smile. “You’re worth it, Eren. Every bit of it. Besides,” you add with a playful grin, “I kind of like the thrill.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as if in disbelief, his eyes shining with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. “Then I guess we’re both crazy,” his words are light and airy as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. The two of you sink back into the water, wrapped in each other’s warmth, and for a moment, there’s no need for words. Just the comfort of his arms, the rhythm of his breathing, and the knowledge that no matter what lay ahead, you’d face it together.

After the cute intimate moments of washing each other's bodies, sticking Eren's hair up in a shampooed mohawk, and a little under the bubble action, Eren finally grabs two heated towels to wrap you up. He takes the time to dry you off, starting with your painted toes, all the way up to your drenched locks.

"All dry," his smile is pure as he ruffles your damp hair. Walking around with just a towel hung around his waist, he goes into the bedroom to get you pajamas. Of course it's one of his old tee shirts, this one a My Chemical Romance one he had since high school. "Arms up," he says as he places the oversized shirt over your head.

The simple domesticity that he could also bring, the soft tone he uses with you, all the little things he does like washing your hair and picking out your pj's, makes you feel swollen with amorous emotions. How could this be the same man that was selling coke to everybody in the city?

"You look so perfect, my pretty baby," he hums softly as he places a kiss on your forehead. Eren can't help but be so in love with you when you looked like this. Fresh out of the bath, bare faced and looking so small in his oversized shirt that reminded him of life before he became so involved in the drug trade. "I have one more thing for you, c'mere."

Shooting him a puzzled look, you follow him into the living room of the apartment. The living room dimly glowed from the tungsten lights, the city glittering from the windows. Sitting down on the velvet couch you watched as Eren shuffles around to search for something.

"Close your eyes princess," his voice is bright with excitement as he holds something behind his back. You do as your told, holding your hands over your face. More shuffles can be heard as he steps closer to you. "Okay, you can open."

"Eren," you gasp as he holds open a small black box that carries a delicate silver ring set with a dark emerald—the same green as his eyes, a color that had always reminded you of him. He takes your hand, slipping the ring onto your finger with a kind of quiet reverence.

“It’s not an engagement ring,” he says with a soft but steady voice. “Not yet, anyway.” He looks up, gaze meeting yours with a seriousness that makes your heart skip a beat. “But it’s a promise. A reminder that this is just the beginning for us. That I want it to be you by my side. Always.”

Your heart swells from his sentiments, and without thinking, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a kiss filled with everything you felt—love, gratitude, the excitement of a future with him. Eren holds you close, with his hand resting on the small of your back, reminding you that no matter what, you were safe here with him.

As you pull back, both of you a little breathless, he brushes a strand of hair from your face, his eyes soft. “Ready for what’s next baby?”

With a smile, you nod, your fingers brushing over the ring, feeling its weight, its promise. “With you? Always.”

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