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You weren’t entirely sure how you ended up in this situation.
It was supposed to be a simple Saturday night—hit a couple of parties, maybe drink just enough to take the edge off a long week. Nothing complicated. Nothing out of the ordinary.
But now, here you were, leaning against the fence in the backyard of some guy whose name you didn’t even catch, a cigarette in hand and a lighter in your pocket that wasn’t yours. The sting of losing money on a bet you should’ve known better than to make still lingered, but at least the nicotine helped dull the frustration.
Connie had dragged you here, swearing up and down that the party would be worth it. “You’ll meet my friends,” he’d said, with the kind of grin that always meant trouble. And maybe he wasn’t wrong—by the time the night was over, you’d met Jean, Sasha, even Mikasa.
And then you’d met the reason you’d be thinking about this night for weeks.
Jean gave off a very strong impression. You had already heard a lot about him just by spending time with Connie, but meeting him in person was completely different. In Connie’s stories, he was always childish and immature. You’re well aware of all their fights, sober or not. Whether it was something stupid, like fighting over the last slice of pizza or a serious matter like the one time they were annoying the fuck out of each other but could not be alone for one second, you’ve heard all about it.
When Connie introduced you two, you didn’t feel nervous at all. He was exactly like you imagined: sarcastic and impulsive.
“Jean, don’t be an ass and come meet my friend!”
Connie yelled at him, hoping to catch his attention. He immediately turned around and made his way to the two of you, taking your hand and shaking it. You exchanged names and he decided that it would be a good idea to introduce you to a couple more people.
“You look pretty lost. Lemme show you ‘round.”
He asked, as if he had already planned this through. The slight blush on his face made you wonder if he was drunk. The truth was that he wasn’t exactly drunk, but not quite sober either.
“I mean.. Sure. What about Connie, though?”
He scoffed before raising the cup he was holding to his lips and gulping it down.
“He’ll be fine.”
He shook his head and you took that as a sign to follow him around. The house was already very crowded so you were bumping into everyone. In an attempt to not get lost, you took Jean’s hand and held it tighter than you intended to.
Jean brought you to a room, seemingly a living room, with a bunch of people just chilling around.
The living room was dimly lit, bathed in warm golden hues from a mix of fairy lights and scattered lamps. The smell of spilled alcohol, weed and cheap cologne lingers in the air, mingling with the low thrum of a bassy-heavy playlist.
You notice a familiar face, Connie. Your thoughts began to wonder how he got here faster than you, but you were quickly interrupted when you saw him and a girl, that you recognised as Sasha, sprawled on the couch, laughing over an inside joke.
Next to them, leaning against the armrest, was a jaw dropping, black haired woman, which you assumed was Mikasa, from Connie’s stories. She had a neutral expression on her face and was mindlessly scrolling on her phone, but she was still invested in the conversation.
The only one you didn’t recognise was a brunette who was sitting on the floor, legs stretched out, his back propped against the coffee table. He’s the only one not laughing, instead twirling a nearly empty glass of seemingly whiskey in his hand and his expression is unreadable.
As you step into the room with Jean, your stomach flips. You were definitely too sober for this. The energy shifts almost imperceptibly, as if your arrival has disrupted a delicate balance.
“Guys!” Jean announces, slinging an arm casually around your shoulder. His voice is loud, cutting through the faint hum of conversation. “This is the friend Connie was telling you about. The one he basically dragged out of her cave tonight.”
Connie snorts from the couch. “Dragged is actually putting it lightly. I had to practically carry her here.”
You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile. “Yeah, guess I’ll have to change the locks now.”
Sasha waves enthusiastically, her cheeks flushed from whatever she’s been drinking. “Hi! Connie’s been hyping you up all week. Says Jean hasn’t stopped talking about you since he mentioned that you were coming.”
You laugh lightly, muttering something about low standards, but before you can respond, your gaze shifts— and locks.
Him.
He’s staring at you. Not the casual glance-and-away kind of stare, but the kind that feels deliberate and intense, as if he’s already piercing you together in his head. His green eyes glint under the soft lighting, and his lips twitch, like he’s fighting the urge to smirk.
“Eren Jaeger,” Jean says, jerking his head toward him. “Don’t let the brooding face scare you. He’s mostly harmless.”
“Mostly.” Sasha teases, earning a side-eye from Mikasa.
You slightly raise an eyebrow, hesitating for a second before nodding at him. “Hi.”
Eren doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he lets his eyes linger on you for a beat too long before speaking. “Hey.”
It’s just one word, but his voice is deeper than you expected, low and rough like he doesn’t use it often.
Moving on from the awkward encounter with Eren, Jean pulled you further into the room, flopping on the couch next to Sasha. “We were just waiting on you, actually. Connie said you were coming, so we figured we’d hold off on the fun stuff until you got here.”
“The fun stuff?” You ask, arching a brow.
Connie grins, holding up an empty bottle of tequila. “Drinking games. Or maybe karaoke if we get drunk enough.”
Eren scoffed softly from his spot. “Speak for yourself. I’m not singing anything.”
Jean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, no one wants to hear you butcher Mr. Brightside anyway.”
The group erupts into laughter, Jean’s snarky jab at Eren earning him a playful shove from Connie. You can’t help but smile at the easy camaraderie among them, though it still feels a little foreign. But even amidst the noise and jokes, you’re keenly aware of Eren’s gaze—sharp, unwavering, and unapologetically focused on you.
It’s unsettling, but not in a bad way. His attention has weight, like he’s already decided you’re the most interesting thing in the room, and you don’t know whether to feel flattered or cornered.
You glance around the group, clearing your throat lightly. “Wow, you guys are so… innocent,” you say, your voice dripping with mock incredulity. “I just lost money off a stupid bet, smoked a cigarette to cope, and now I’m about to do karaoke. Definitely not drunk enough for this.”
Sasha gasps dramatically. “A bet? What kind of bet?”
“Something dumb,” you say, shaking your head. “I should’ve known better, but here we are.”
Jean smirks. “So you’re a gambler, huh? I didn’t take you for the type.”
“I’m not,” you reply with a shrug. “Clearly, since I lost.”
Connie cackles from his spot on the couch. “What’d I tell you, Jean? She’s got stories.”
Eren shifts in his spot, setting his empty glass on the table beside him. “Sounds like you’ve already had a more eventful night than us,” he murmurs, his voice low but cutting through the chatter like it’s meant just for you.
Jean claps his hands together, breaking whatever strange moment was starting to settle between you and Eren. “Alright, then. Let’s make this night more interesting. Karaoke sounds great, but not before a round of shots to loosen up.”
Sasha cheers while Mikasa raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I don’t think the alcohol will improve anyone’s singing,” she deadpans, though she still reaches for the shot glass Connie hands her.
You laugh softly, feeling a bit more at ease now that the spotlight’s off you. “Fair warning, my karaoke voice is terrible. You’re all about to regret this.”
“Doubt it,” Jean says with a grin. “The worse, the better.”
Connie starts pouring shots, and Sasha bounces up to queue songs on a nearby speaker. Mikasa watches silently, though her gaze flickers to Eren now and then, as if gauging his mood.
A few minutes later, you had lost count of how many shots you had taken. You were definitely drunk now, the only surrounding you were aware of was Eren, who was standing up and stretching, before quietly slipping into the kitchen.
You don’t know what compels you to follow him. Maybe it’s the weight of his stare still lingering on your skin or the way his presence seems to shift the energy of the room. Either way, you find yourself stepping into the kitchen a few minutes later, using the excuse of grabbing water.
Eren doesn’t look surprised to see you. He’s leaning against the counter, swirling the last bit of amber liquid in his glass. When his eyes meet yours, a slow, deliberate smirk tugs at his lips.
“Couldn’t stay away, huh?”
You snort, moving toward the sink. “Please. I just needed water before Sasha forces me to sing Iris in front of everyone.”
Eren chuckles, low and gravelly, setting his glass down. “Would’ve been worth staying for. Bet you’d kill it.”
“Oh, yeah?” you reply, turning to face him, leaning slightly against the counter. “You don’t even know me. For all you know, I could be tone-deaf.”
He steps closer, close enough that you can see the faint gleam of amusement in his eyes. “You don’t strike me as tone-deaf.” His gaze dips briefly to your lips, then back up. “You strike me as someone who knows how to hold an audience.”
You scoff, but your stomach flips at the intensity in his voice. “Big words from someone who barely said two words when we met.”
He shrugs, his fingers brushing the rim of his glass. “I don’t waste time talking when there’s nothing worth saying.” His gaze locks on yours, and for a moment, it feels like the world outside the kitchen has fallen away. “But you’re… interesting.”
The air between you feels charged, and you can’t help the way your pulse quickens. “What makes you so sure?”
His smirk grows, lazy and confident. “Call it a hunch,” he says, his voice dropping slightly. “Or maybe I’ve just got good taste.”
Before you can respond, Sasha’s voice cuts through the tension, calling your name from the living room. “Water break’s over! Get back here—you’re up next!”
Eren doesn’t move, his eyes still on you like he’s daring you to stay where you are. Finally, he leans back, giving you just enough space to breathe again.
“Guess you’ve got a crowd waiting,” he says, his tone almost teasing. But as you turn to leave, his voice follows you, softer but laced with something deeper. “I’ll be watching.”
You don’t look back, but the weight of his stare follows you, making your heart race as you step into the chaos of the living room.
The living room lights are dimmer now, replaced by the glow of fairy lights strung haphazardly across the walls. A cheap microphone screeches to life as Sasha taps it, testing the sound. You’re already feeling the effects of too many shots, your thoughts pleasantly blurred as the tequila courses through your veins.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” Sasha declares dramatically, her voice echoing through the room. “This one goes out to our newest addition!” She winks at you, her grin wide and mischievous.
“Wait, what?” you sputter, laughing nervously.
Jean smirks from his spot on the couch. “Sasha’s been dying to duet. Don’t fight it; it’s easier that way.”
Before you can protest, Sasha grabs your arm and pulls you to the center of the room. Someone—probably Connie—is already queuing up a song, and the opening notes of Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls blare through the speakers.
“You’ve got this,” Sasha whispers conspiratorially before launching into the first verse, her energy infectious.
The room fills with laughter and cheers as the two of you belt out the song, your voices melding into a chaotic mix of off-key notes and exaggerated vibrato. It’s ridiculous, messy, and far from pitch-perfect, but you’re too drunk to care. You catch glimpses of Connie doubled over in laughter, Jean recording the whole thing on his phone, and even Mikasa cracking a rare smile.
And then there’s Eren.
He’s leaning against the wall, a beer in hand, his expression unreadable as his eyes follow your every move. You can feel his gaze, heavy and consuming, even when you’re not looking directly at him. It’s like he’s trying to figure you out, piece by piece, and the thought sends a shiver down your spine.
By the time the song ends, your throat is raw, your cheeks flushed from a mix of alcohol and adrenaline. Sasha throws an arm around your shoulders, laughing breathlessly. “You’re a natural!”
“Natural disaster, maybe,” you joke, but you can’t stop smiling as you flop onto the couch, your head spinning slightly.
The hours pass in a haze of music, laughter, and half-finished drinks. You notice Eren once or twice more, but the two of you don’t speak again. He stays on the edges of the group, his presence magnetic even in silence. It’s infuriating how effortlessly he seems to command attention, even without trying.
Eventually, the party begins to wind down. Sasha and Connie are passed out on the couch, and Mikasa is cleaning up stray cups with a resigned look. Jean is half-heartedly attempting to rally everyone for another round of drinking games, but most of the energy has fizzled out.
Jean offers to call you a ride, and you accept, stumbling out into the cool night air with a final wave to the group. You don’t even glance back to see if Eren is watching.
The sunlight streaming through your window feels like a personal attack, and the dull ache behind your eyes reminds you exactly why tequila should never be trusted. Groaning, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, scrolling through a few unread messages from friends asking about the party.
But one message stands out, from a number you don’t recognize.
Unknown Number: hope the hangover isn’t too bad. u were a solid 7/10 at karaoke, tho. def room for improvement.
You blink at the screen, confusion giving way to suspicion.
You: who is this?
The reply comes almost instantly.
Unknown Number: thought you’d recognize me by now. Eren.
Your heart skips a beat, and you stare at the message, rereading it like it might suddenly change. You hadn’t given him your number, and yet here he was, already slipping past boundaries like it was nothing.
You: how’d you get my number?
Eren: Connie. don’t be mad at him, i can be persuasive.
You chew your lip, a mix of irritation and intrigue bubbling up.
You: what do you want??
Eren: to know when i’ll see you again.
The simplicity of his response catches you off guard, the weight of it pressing down like a challenge. It’s bold, unexpected, and entirely in line with the impression he left on you last night.
And you hate that it makes your stomach flip
You: so, what? you just couldn’t resist texting me?
Eren: maybe. or maybe you left an impression.
You roll your eyes, even though your heart skips a beat. His confidence is palpable, even through text, and it’s annoyingly effective.
You: big talk for someone who barely said two words to me last night.
Eren: i talk when it matters. and you had a crowd last night.
Eren: figured i’d wait until i had your attention.
You: and now you do?
Eren: yeah. and i don’t plan on letting it go anytime soon.
You hesitate, fingers hovering over your screen. His words are direct, calculated, like he knows exactly what effect they’ll have on you. But you’re not about to let him think he has the upper hand.
You: you’re awfully confident for someone who had to get my number through a middleman.
Eren: confident enough to know u’re still texting me.
He’s right, and it irritates you more than you’d like to admit. Before you can fire back a reply, your phone buzzes again.
Eren: what are you doing right now?
Your stomach flips, and you glance around your room like he might somehow already know the answer.
You: recovering. why?
Eren: get dressed. i’ll pick you up in 30.
You: excuse me?
Eren: u heard me. 30 minutes.
You stare at the screen, your mind racing. It’s bold—almost too bold—but there’s something intoxicating about the way he doesn’t ask, doesn’t leave room for you to refuse. It’s like he already knows you’ll say yes.
You: and if I don’t?
Eren: u will. u’re curious.
The sound of a car horn pulls you out of your thoughts, and you glance outside to see a sleek black car parked at the curb. Eren is leaning casually against the driver’s door, dressed in a black hoodie and ripped, baggy jeans, his green eyes catching the fading sunlight. The smirk tugging at his lips makes your heart skip, and you take a deep breath before heading out.
As you approach, he straightens, opening the passenger door for you without a word.
“Punctual.” you remark, sliding in and buckling your seatbelt.
“Of course,” he replies, climbing into the driver’s seat. His voice is smooth, low and entirely too enticing. “Wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.”
The car hums to life, and he pulls away from the curb with an easy confidence. You don’t ask where he’s taking you, and he doesn’t offer. The silence isn’t uncomfortable; instead, it’s charged, every glance and movement crackling with unspoken tension.
The city lights blur past the windows as Eren’s fingers drum lazily on the steering wheel. His other hand rests on the gearshift, dangerously close to your thigh.
“So,” he starts, his voice casual. “What’s the deal with you and Connie?”
“What do you mean?”
“Seemed pretty cozy last night.” His voice is casual, but there’s an edge to it that makes you glance over at him. Eren’s lips twitch into something that’s not quite a smirk.
You exhale sharply, laying back against the seat. “I’ve known Connie almost my whole life. He’s like family, don’t be gross.”
“Family,” Eren repeats, the word rolling off his tongue slowly. He drums his fingers against the gearshift, his knuckles brushing against your leg again, this time lingering a fraction too long.
You tilt your head to look at him, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “What, you jealous or something?”
He lets out a low laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You’re deflecting.”
“Maybe,” you admit, your tone light, but the air between you feels impossibly heavy.
Eren turns his head fully toward you now, his green eyes dark and piercing in the dim light. “What about Jean? You gonna tell me he’s like family, too?”
“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’, “he’s just a friend. I met him that night, actually.” The weight of Eren’s stare is pinning you in place.
A beat of silence passes, and then he leans closer, his voice dropping an octave. “And me? What am I?”
The question hangs in the air, charged and dangerous, as Eren pulls into a seemingly empty parking space. You open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat as Eren’s hand slides to your thigh, his palm warm even through the fabric of your jeans.
“Eren…” you start, but it’s barely a whisper.
“You didn’t answer,” he says, his thumb brushing in slow circles just above your knee. A few more moments of silence go by, where he’s just staring at you. He interrupts your thoughts. “C’mon, you didn’t answer my text just to stay silent now.”
Your pulse pounds in your ears as you meet his gaze. “You’re.. complicated.”
He smirks at that, his face impossibly close now. “Complicated, huh?”
Before you can second-guess yourself, you lean in, your lips brushing against his. It’s tentative at first, testing the waters, but the moment you feel him respond, the dam breaks.
The kiss is fierce and unrelenting, his hand gripping your thigh tightly as he pulls you closer. Your fingers tangle in his hair and he groans softly against your mouth, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.
“You’re driving me crazy, y’know that?” He murmurs against your lips, his voice ragged.
The words ignite something in you, and you tug him closer, your hands slipping under his hoodie to feel the warmth of his skin. He growls softly, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes blazing with something primal.
“You sure about this?” he asks, his voice rough.
You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you nod, your breathing uneven.
Eren wastes no time. He reclines his seat slightly, pulling you into his lap in one swift motion. The cramped space of the car only adds to the heat between you, your bodies pressed together in a way that feels both overwhelming and perfect.
His hands roam your body with purpose, finding every sensitive spot with ease. You gasp when his lips trail down your neck, his teeth grazing the delicate skin.
“Eren…” you manage to say, your voice shaky but laced with need.
“Say it again,” he demands, his hands slipping under your shirt to explore the bare skin of your waist.
“Eren,” you repeat, the word tumbling from your lips like a prayer.
He pulls the rubberband on your bra, letting it slap against your cold skin. “Backseat?”
“Yeah,” you murmured, waiting for him to take the lead. Without a word, he reaches for the door handle and opens it, guiding you out of the front seat.
You follow his lead, your heart hammering in your chest. The car is parked in a secluded spot, the night around you eerily quiet, the world distant and far away. Eren’s hand wraps around your wrist as he gently but firmly tugs you toward the backseat. You slide in first, his body following close behind as he shifts the seats, making more room.
He leans over you, his lips crashing into yours once again, but this time it’s more desperate, more frantic. The cramped space only heightens the tension between you, the leather seats creaking under the weight of your bodies as you find yourselves pressed up against each other, skin against skin, with no room to escape.
His hands roam over you with urgency, exploring every curve, pulling you closer until it’s almost impossible to tell where you end and he begins.
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” he repeated for confirmation.
You rolled your eyes, motioning for him to just hurry up and start. Your leg slightly brushes against his crotch and you can feel him. He’s rock solid in his pants, to the point where his cock hurts. He puts his thoughts aside, though. You are his priority now.
Eren’s hand dipped underneath your top, slightly moving under your stomach until he reached the cup of your bra, then he pulled your top off, leaving you bare on display.
He pinched and rolled your nipple, while he tended to the other one with his tongue, licking slow circles around it.
His free hand disappeared between your legs and he palmed your entrance through your sweatpants. Had you known what was about to happen, you would have worn something easier to get out of, perhaps a skirt.
But it didn’t matter, Eren had left you in your soaking underwear in mere seconds. Pushing your underwear aside, he slid two of his rough fingers inside, which made you buckle into his hands. You were wordlessly begging for more, for something deeper.
Without even noticing, his head is buried between your legs, as well. He makes you so stupidly wet, you think, as you notice the damp, prominent, wet spot on your underwear.
You squeeze your thighs around his head, running your hands through his long locks. You babble mindless ‘yes’ and ‘please’, as he brings you closer and closer to an inevitable orgasm.
Suddenly, his fingers retreat and he pressed them against your lips, sealing your mouth. “Open up for me.”
Instinctively, you close your lips around them and suck them clean.
“So good for me, baby.” he says it like he doesn’t mean to say it out loud, like it’s just one of his thoughts that accidentally got out.
First mistake, you close your eyes, getting lost in the sparks of pleasure heating up in your abdomen. You feel it before you know what’s happening: the head of his cock pushing up at your tiny hole, demanding it to stretch around him.
One of your hands flies to his shoulder, where you dig your nails deep into his flesh, while the other one goes to his hair. You’re a whining mess, not being able to form a sentence. You needed to tell him to just fuck you, but you could only whine.
“What do you need?” he coos you, trying to soothe the pain that you were visibly experiencing. “Say it, angel.”
“‘s too big, Eren. Won’t fit.” You cry out, nails digging into his back now. The red marks left on his shoulder gave you the courage to keep going.
“You can take it, you’re already so wet.” He grunts, before moving his hand to the side of your clit to massage it.
Without any warning, he fully slides in. You’re so full, full of him everywhere. He slowly starts to rock his hips against you, clearly struggling not to come right now.
“You did so well, see.” He brings his rough fingertips to your cheek, lightly stroking it. His attention is focused on the point where the two of you meet, where you’re visibly sucking him in every time he pulls back.
“Right there, Eren!” You arch your back, but he pushes you down quickly.
“Where?” The sound of the slick juices from your pussy are so lewd that you can’t even form a response. Instead, he goes deeper, as if there was any space left for him to infiltrate in your body.
Your pleas become more and more frantic, realising that you were close to your release. Every single one of your muscles clenches as the tightening coil finally snaps, and you come hard.
Achieving his goal, there’s no need to hold off his release anymore. He spills his load deep inside of you. Eren slides out and you can feel his hot cum dripping out of you and onto the car seats.
He collapses into the crook of your neck, pressing light kisses all around. He’s the first one to break the silence.
“I really want to get to know you.”