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nininikki · 9 months

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𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 | eren jaeger x black reader

IV. it’s all coming back to me now

✧ summary! — your complicated feelings for eren come to a head during his star-studded ball.

✧ warnings! — alcohol consumption and mentions of it, mentions of sexual activity (piv), mentions of male masturbation, adultery, age gap—reader is 29 and eren is 40, some POV switching, angst

✧ author’s note! — WHEW, it’s here! after looking at nothing but this google doc for the past few days my brain is so damn fried so all i can say is THANK U ALL SM for all your love and for just existing &&& i really hope you like it! 💘🫶🏽💋💋

✧ word count! — 3.6k

14 MAY, SIX MONTHS AFTER THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

“i mean, it sounds stupid now, but…you should’ve seen the man.” mikasa said, her face screwed up in a scary smugness. “from my perspective, at least. it was like…” she took a big gulp of sparkling water down her throat, and chewed on some ice cubes to wash it down. hurt channeled at the network of veins on her neck, and you still hadn’t quite processed the fact that you were the cause for it. “it was like night and day.”

***

14 SEPTEMBER, TWO MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

“and ms. (y/n), who exactly are you wearing tonight?”

no matter how he tried, eren just couldn’t help the way he stared as you smoothed your hands over the skirt of your dress. it was pink, and just the right shade—the kind that reminded him of soft cotton candy melting on his tongue. the beauty—the grandness—of your ensemble was akin to walking through an entire forest of showering cherry blossoms.

“none other than mugler, of course.” you responded, flashing the oh so lucky reporter an award-winning smile. despite evening shadows that had begun dusting against his front lawn, the flush of crimson crawling over the collar of his leather jacket and peeking at the top of his neck was striking.

what was he doing? there was an onslaught of guests piling in—all ranging from a-list celebrities to politicians with enough influence to make or break his campaign at any given moment. eren supposed he should care. and he was really, really trying to. had you not been so you, or had he not been so stupid, simply looking at you wouldn’t be such a strain. then, as quickly as that thought crossed his mind, he condemned himself for even allowing it to. he was the reason for his unfaithfulness (or, more technically speaking, his desire to be unfaithful).

it was he who had fought tooth and nail with his very own resolve after each and every one of your phone calls, trying to keep his hands above the buckle of his belt long enough to rationalize the thoughts coursing through his head. it was he who, no matter how he tried, couldn’t find the will to fight those same temptations under the cold spray of shower water—tugging his painfully erect cock until the faint whisper of your name left his lips and the remnants of his disloyalty trickled down the shower walls. it was eren who wouldn’t be able to get the sound of your laugh out of his head even if he struck it against those same shower walls forever.

just as eren began to take his eyes off you, they landed on his wife, who was just scurrying past nearby and looked utterly delighted to see him. “ah, there you are!” mikasa’s hands found his, and she craned her neck up at him to receive a kiss on the cheek. in the time it took him to oblige her wish, her lips were in perfect position to whisper, “levi wants us to dance later.” against the shell of his ear. he understands then that his mission for tonight is to be married. he was going to sweep mikasa off her feet on the dance floor and laugh with her over a couple glasses of champagne. but first, he was going to kiss her on the cheek and tell her how radiant she looked, because that’s just what good husbands did.

***

“aren’t they cute?” hange cooed in your ear, their watchful eye turned subtly toward eren and mikasa. he was stamping a kiss over her cheek, and then spinning around to assess her outfit. if your lip reading skills served you well enough, he was saying something along the lines of, “you look amazing.”

upon catching mikasa’s diamond wedding ring glinting in the light of the setting sun as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, you briefly considered choking from the onslaught of bile climbing up your throat. “the cutest.” you chirped out instead. hanged snaked an arm around your waist a little tighter than usual, and you let them. you were gonna need it. “c’mon, i think the party’s heading inside.”

***

the jaeger ballroom was something of a spectacle. carved into the arched, sky high ceilings were designs so ornate they looked to be paintings. opulence filled the air, along with the chipper aroma of freshly poured champagnes and the staticky buzz of tipsy chatter.

“i can have you five movie deals by the end of the night.” hange hypothesized aloud, their eyes hungrily scanning the throng of stars socializing about.

“is now really the best time to be pimping me out?”

“honey, i can’t think of a better time than now.” their eyes lit up at the sight of an esteemed director laughing heartily over what couldn’t have been his first glass of champagne. “now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“oh, hange, please,” you half pleaded. the last thing you needed was to be alone with all your thoughts.

hange only retracted their arm from the comfort of your waist and kissed at your temple. “you’re gonna thank me for this, don’t worry.”

you tried not to let your shoulders drop before the eyes of so many people as you carried yourself over to the bar. it was delightfully vacant and ensconced beneath just enough shadows to grant you a little bit of privacy. as you maneuvered yourself and your dress upon a chair, the memory of eren and mikasa gushing over one another poked and prodded at your brain incessantly, as if with the intention of making it explode behind your skull.

you couldn’t help but wonder if the glances you two sneaked to one another in public, or the conversations shared during the late hours of the night, or the mutual feelings that surely plagued his thoughts as well as your own, were all just…that. a secret, an affair, a rendezvous. something dirty and scandalous and not meant to purge past the dark of night.

who were you kidding? of course they were. no matter how little he loved his wife, (although, you couldn’t be a hundred percent sure eren didn’t love mikasa. and that made you feel a little sick) she would still be his wife. and you’d still be…well, you didn’t quite know.

“hi.” came eren’s voice behind you, accompanied by a tap to your shoulder. you were so nestled within your head that you were hardly even startled.

in a few lithe strides, he was standing in front of you. “hey, you,” he really did look so perfect tonight. and it didn’t help that he was looking at you like you were perfect too. “how’s your ball going?”

eren’s voice took on a joking air as he surveyed the area. “not too shabby, i’d say.” for whatever reason, when he brought his gaze back to you, they seemed as if they’d never leave. “what about you? what do you think?”

as you pondered over an answer to his question, you couldn’t help but notice the way he took the plush skin of his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before releasing the now smoothly damp, blushing flesh from its confines. only one word came to mind. “beautiful.”

at that, eren’s eyes pressed shut for a moment before opening again, seemingly miles brighter than before they closed. “that makes me happy to hear.” embarrassingly, your entire body warmed at the lower octave of his voice, and for a moment you hated that he could do this to you. “and, hey, speaking of beautiful things,” he nodded towards you, and if it were possible, his voice was even sexier when he said, “i haven’t been able to stop looking at you all night.”

somehow, your composure was still intact. “is that so?”

“absolutely.” eren beamed. “if you’ll let me, i’d love a dance with you at some point.”

as you took a moment to let his words seep into your skin as they always did, his attention was drawn to something on the other side of the room, and without much forewarning, he quickly said, “excuse me, (y/n).” before whisking away.

***

“put your hands on my hips.” mikasa murmured, and then smiled politely when eren did. he hoped it wasn’t too painfully obvious to the onlookers that mikasa was skilled in ballroom dance and he was not. “everything’s going well. i’ve spoken with investors, and they’ve all seemed promising.”

eren whispered before spinning mikasa in a circle. “good to hear.”

they danced in silence for a few beats until mikasa said, “you could try and look at least somewhat in love.”

eren fought the urge to drop his smile, and spun mikasa into a dip. mikasa’s face came up flushed, smiling, and framed by a few out of place hairs. “really hard to do when you’re in my ear about investors.”

still beaming, she said between her teeth, “well, not everyone can just sit on their asses all day. one of us has to care about your career.”

“god, you’re unbelievable.”

“am i wrong?”

the song ended, and the pair tried not to make it so obvious they were eager to get their hands off each other. eren could see a tangible effort put in by his wife to keep smiling, no matter how artificial, and he wasn’t sure whether he feared or admired it more.

***

you were out of there. from the moment he took mikasa’s hand and led her out to the dance floor. from the moment he twirled her body around in a graceful little circle. from the moment you watched them look into each other’s eyes in the way only a husband and wife did. you were so out of there.

sneaking away was easy. by now, everyone (including hange, who you could see had now taken to flirting with a random caterer) was drunk off their asses, and likely couldn’t tell you from a can of paint.

once you were outside, breathing began to feel manual. the diamonds around your neck were strangling. the jovial sounds of the party inside still rang in your ears. you weren’t far away enough. so, you ran. you ran through the vast, flourishing garden that lie behind the spacious property. you ran until the soles of your feet ached with each step. you ran until the memory of eren dancing with mikasa didn’t hurt so much.

you didn’t stop until you were in an area ensconced by trees. it’d have been completely dark if not for light emanating from the beaming moon. a tall stone fountain trickled nearby, and you wasted no time sitting on its edge. as your heart tried to climb out of your throat, a late summer breeze swept through the trees and covered your bare shoulders in goose flesh.

you wondered how you would muster the courage to go back to the party. you wondered how you would even find your way back. the gardens were a tall, grassy maze that you had hardly any business running through in the first place.

“(y/n)?” you heard a voice call. or rather, the voice—his voice. you had half a mind to brush it off as some kind of hypothermic delusion until eren smoothed through the entryway. his gaze caught yours from where you sat at the fountain, and incommunicable relief passed his eyes. “there you are,” if there was still any doubt that he was real, it was all extinguished when he wandered into the moonlit area towards you. hands folded politely behind his back, his hair a little messier than usual. “you had me worried for a moment.”

“guess i owe you a dance, then.” you attempted to joke, fighting off the shiver that threatened to rack your limbs.

“you owe me more than that, i think.” the glimmer of the moon made him look like an angel, and the firm tone coloring his voice did nothing to help. “like an explanation, maybe. as to why you’re out here.”

“how’d you even find me?” you challenged. “this place is,” you waved your arms high above your head as if to showcase its size. “massive.”

“i actually own the place, if you didn’t know.” you fought the urge to smile at his wit. eren took his hands from behind his back to unveil a pretty pink chanel heel. he only needed to hold it up for a second to know it was yours. “and i think you dropped something off on the way.”

you pulled up the skirt of your dress to see one foot still clad in its respective heel while the other was only sheathed in your nylon stockings. how much adrenaline had been coursing through your body for you to have not noticed? still inspecting your practically naked foot, you held your hand out to take the shoe from him, but he disregarded it as he kneeled before you. “no, let me.”

there was something especially intimate about this. about how delicate eren was being with you. his hands were big, but so capable of being gentle. the skin of his palms were so warm against your ankles, the tips of his fingers so light against your soles, you almost found yourself giggling at the pleasantness of it.

once he was finished, you stood, admittedly a little too flustered. “thank you.”

he seemed to barely acknowledge it, only nodding as he rose to his feet. “now, are you gonna tell me why you’re out here?”

for what felt like the first time the entire night, you finally allowed your shoulders to sink under all the emotion they had been carrying. “it’s silly.” eren’s gaze was unwavering, but soft nonetheless. he had the kind of eyes that made you want to tell him everything.

you turned your back to him, unsheathing yourself in the warmth of his stare. could eren hear the rapid thumping of your pulse? could he hear it skipping when he said, “i’m sure it’s not.”

“no it’s, uh,” gingerly, you began walking around the fountain, and you could hear his footsteps trailing close behind. “being jealous of a man’s wife, that’s…that’s, um, really stupid of me, actually…” your mouth was clumsy as it fumbled over the words, and you could only conceal the stupidity of your confession with a sardonic chuckle. “i should go.” you whispered, turning to face him again, with no intention of leaving.

“don’t.” eren protested. through your peripheral vision, you saw his hand reach for yours, and you were unsure whether you should flinch away or push yourself closer.

your voice was a hair away from breaking. “there’s nothing for me out here.” you knew what you were saying. you understood its implications. eren was far from nothing, but he was also a fool if he believed the feelings you shared could ever go beyond this patch of land.

“how could you even say that knowing how i feel about you?” eren braved a step toward you, searching for the passion—the devotion—in your eyes that was so evident in his.

“how you feel about me?” the utter absurdity of it made you laugh, and it was then you registered the moisture building in your eyes. “yeah, like that means anything.”

“and it doesn’t?”

“it can’t!” the words escaped you in the form of a bitter, scratching scream. eren’s eyes only softened. “you’re married, so it can’t mean anything.”

“i think,” absolutely nothing could prepare you for the feeling of his fingertips brushing against yours. once, twice, then three times. something about each little touch made it a bit more real. now, your feelings were more than that. now, he was touching you. “i think it already does.”

it all happened so fast. you barely got the chance to think, this is such a bad idea before his fingertips were skating briskly up your arm and both of his hands—so big, and oh so capable—were on either sides of your neck. caressing the skin there, assessing the thunder of your pulse, pulling you closer until the tips of your noses brushed against one another.

the first syllable of his name left your mouth in a choked whimper, and that was all you could let before eren kissed you.

soft. that was the only possible word. his lips were tender and sticky with champagne. you could tell he was testing your waters first—brushing his lips against yours ever so gently, allowing you to get a taste of one another before he went in for the kill. he planted a soft one on your bottom lip, then another when you felt yourself trembling. then he was at your top lip—also trembling with newborn nerves but still just as eager. “tell me to stop and i will.” eren breathed into your mouth.

you considered it for a moment. you considered letting the warmth of his hands leave your skin, letting him go back to the party, letting him leave you. his eyes were serious, and you could tell he was considering it too. you closed your eyes, grazed your lips over his just a fraction or so, and that was all the answer eren needed.

when he took your lips properly for the first time, it felt as though they were no longer yours. eren kissed you passionately, slowly, as if kissing was all you would ever be able to do. and you let him. as his tongue slipped between your already parted lips, you let yourself get lost in the champagne taste that lingered on it. you let him kiss you for so long that you’d started to get dizzy from how little you were breathing. and you loved it.

you loved having his mouth on you. you loved little wet sounds that emanated whenever he took his lips off yours. you loved how he was holding you—one hand at your nape and the other cupping your jaw. you loved how good he was making you feel. “eren, more.” you had managed to say between kisses.

and it seemed he was more than happy to oblige. he took his lips over your neck as if they belonged there, nipping and sucking at that same frenetic pulse point like he was hungry for it—hungry for you. you held his hair back as he worked down your neck and over your collarbones. eren’s eyes darkened as he smoothed his lips up and down the valley between your breasts. not yet kissing, but running his mouth over the delicate skin. “can i kiss you here?” he asked, voice muffled by desire as he palmed your left breast.

“uh-huh,” you nodded, and eren had dropped down on one knee for better access. smoothly, you maneuvered the straps of your dress off your shoulders just in time for eren to pull you in.

his hands on your waist, his tongue making busywork over your pert left nipple, his name on your lips. “you like it when i touch you here?” he asked, the tip of his nose nudging the spot where his mouth had just been. you nodded again.

eren took a hand that had been on your waist and let it drop over your ankle. “what about right here?” then that hand was moving up your calf. “and here?” towards the back of your knee. “you like this too?” up the doughy flesh of your thigh, where he took his time fondling the nylon-covered skin. “oh, yeah, i know you like this.” he murmured as you squirmed.

“you’re so warm,” eren groaned as his remaining joined the other under your dress, both kneading your thighs whilst teasing the skin between them. the tip of his thumb grazed over the crotch area of your stockings and you shivered. “can i feel you here?”

yes. the answer was so obvious that you’d hardly felt the need to say it. just as your mouth began to open around the response, a monstrous clap of thunder roared across the sky, followed by a burst of lightening, which was then followed by gentle rainfall.

it was like the rain had been trying to sober you. all the warmth, all the lust, all the irrationality—all rinsed away by the rain and its growing freneticism. hurriedly, you readjusted the shoulders of your dress and helped eren to his feet. “we should get out of here.” you sighed, swallowing a gulp. “before we get too wet.”

eren only nodded, his hands having settled on your waist. you waited for him to take them off, for the moment to be over, for your need to touch him to finally dissipate. you waited and waited, and it seemed he was doing the same.

finally, eren moved to slip his suit jacket off his shoulders and set it carefully over yours. “here, let me,”

“you shouldn’t.” you tried, already attempting to shrug the expensive material off of you.

eren persisted, “i want to.” as he tugged it over you more securely. “now, let’s get out of here.”

***

it was only eleven o’clock. the rest of the party, still inside and blissfully ignorant to the rain, weren’t there to see eren escort you into your car.

“is your manager still in there?” eren asked once you were nestled safely in the backseat.

how angry would hange be if you left them there for the remainder of the night? how angry would they be if you pulled them away from a good party (and potentially even better money) just because you’d gotten a little carried away with eren in his garden?

“i’ll call them in the morning.” you decided.

tags ✧˖*°࿐ — @nyanglock @beyondsuki @punkologist @taylarxse @ittostan @rensbby @madsoncrack @shawtynoire @braxxinterlude @kai7911

#nikki writes ✶#happy birthday mr. president #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x black reader #eren jaeger fanart #attack on titan fanart #attack on titan smut #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin eren #snk smut #aot smut

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nininikki · 1 year

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𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 | eren jaeger x black

II. what did i tell you?

✧ summary! — following a blundered primary and a heated argument with his wife, eren knows exactly who to call.

✧ warnings! — mentions of alcohol consumption, suggestive sexual language, adultery (eren is an aspiring cheater again), age gap—reader is 29 and eren is 40

✧ author’s note! — part 2 is here! so happy that you all are loving this series & i thank you for all the support!! 🤎🪽 lmk if i missed anything in the warnings!

✧ word count! — 2.5k

AUGUST 12, THREE MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

“i can’t even…” mikasa sputtered, running a shaky hand through the sable—and once perfectly coiffed—hair atop her head. “i can’t believe you, eren.” she let the sleek mop of her fur coat droop down her arms, seemingly indifferent as to whether or not it landed on the nearby coat rack. as he watched it collide with the tile floor of their foyer, eren recalled the eight thousand dollar price with a scoff.

“save it, mika.” eren huffed, trying to drown out the sounds of her heels clicking against the floor as she tailed him into the living room.

“oh, trust me, i have. i saved it on the bus. i saved it on the plane. i even saved it on the ride home when it was just the two of us.”

“i meant save it for someone who wants to hear it, ‘cause i sure as hell don’t, mikasa.” he blew the words out as an exasperated sigh.

mikasa barked, the tone of her voice akin to a creaky window. “i’m gonna speak now, and you will hear every word!”

eren could tell just by the way the words scratched against her throat that she was about to lay it on thick. and mikasa had a very poor habit of not knowing when to fucking stop. if he wanted to listen to someone berate him for every mistake he’d ever made, he’d pick up the phone and call his father.

“honestly, eren, do you even want this election?”

“of course i do. do you not see how hard i’ve been working?”

“oh, is that what that was? were you working hard at that primary, because all you managed to do was piss me off.”

“don’t start with me right now. i’m not in the damn mood for this.”

“and you think i am? you think i’m in the mood to be having this conversation?” mikasa laughed, but it felt more like a sarcastically delighted scoff. her eyes went glossy with something familiarly maniacal, and eren could more than tell what she was getting ready to do. arranging a beautiful artillery of words at the tip of her tongue for the sole purpose of destroying him in that very moment. “i mean, do you not realize how lucky you are? you’re smart, you’re rich, you’re handsome, you come from one of the most powerful families in the country. you could have the office right now if you wanted. but you don’t want it.

“i had dreams, y’know. i could’ve been a partner at my firm, but i gave it up. and for what? so you could screw around behind that podium?” mikasa kicked out of her shoes before hooking the heels under her fingers.

eren released the bridge of his nose from the pressing grip of his fingers. “i’ll be at the guest house tonight.”

mikasa only sighed. they seldom got in fights that led to them sleeping separately, but in those rare instances, it was the best (and sometimes the only) option. “right. well, get some rest. we’re meeting with levi tomorrow.”

he took a chance glance into his wife’s eyes—an oasis of grey, brimming with thoughts and emotions of which she had barred his access. save for the frustration evident on all the other parts of her face.

it was so eerily similar to that of his mother. he could count on both hands the number of times she blinked that same world-weary gaze in his father’s direction. how long had she been sleeping in the guest bedroom before she’d considered a divorce?

“yeah. you too.”

14 MAY, SIX MONTHS AFTER THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

“don’t even try to deny it.” mikasa said. a sick, wifely part of her burned with satisfaction at the sight of your infuriatingly beautiful face—cracked into a myriad of distressing pieces, like a plate she’d just struck with a hammer. “and before you ask, no. i don’t have proof.” if she were being a hundred percent honest with herself, it hadn’t even crossed her mind to gather any proof. what had her marriage done to her? she was a lawyer, and top of her class, godamnit! if eren’s classless affair reduced her to a point of throwing around baseless accusations, then she was just as bad as him. which meant that she needn’t waste any more time on this than absolutely necessary. “but i don’t need any, either. i mean, look at you two.”

you scoffed, seeming to forget that your glass was empty and being met with a jarring (and actually rather rude) slurping noise. thankfully, the waiter was there to swipe the glass from your hand before any more damage to her ears could be done. although, mikasa was almost sick with pleasure as she watched your futile attempt at trying not to crumble. “look at—look at what, exactly?”

“i don’t know what it was, but part of me could just tell he wanted you. maybe it was me being his wife and such, but i just knew. that first night i introduced you two, he had this—this hard-on in his eyes whenever he looked at you.” she thought back to that very night. where you’d seemingly been oblivious to her husband ogling you like you were a piece of meat. “but i could deal with that. i could screw him a little more often. we were supposed to be trying anyway. but then,” at the mention of them trying, mikasa caught you shifting uncomfortably in your seat, and thought to herself, good. she hoped your mind would run itself wild imagining all the trying they did.

“but then?”

mikasa had to brace herself. because eren could be as horny for as many twenty year olds as he wanted. he could have as many stupid, meaningless affairs as he wanted. him being unhappy in their marriage, she could handle that. her husband being careless enough to risk his presidency over some college freshman, she could handle that. none of it would’ve been worse than what he actually did. “i think he actually started to like you.”

AUGUST 12, THREE MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

you put your house phone out of its ringing misery with a clipped, “hello,” for you had barely graced past your front door and kicked off your heels when it began it’s treacherous trill.

“bad time?” the voice on the other end answered, a voice you immediately (and with some chagrin) recognized to be governor eren jaeger. it’s smooth and relaxed, like he’s just ran a glass of whiskey down his throat. your drunken timbre feels clumsy in comparison.

“oh.” you realize aloud, situating yourself at the foot of your bed. “hi, mr. governor.”

“unh-unh. what did i tell you?”

almost giddily, you plunged your head backwards into your plush, messy comforter, your house phone still clutched in your fingers. “eren.” a low hum rumbled through the receiver, as palpable as though your ear was pressed against his chest. this was an unbelievably bad time for you. your body was still mangled with remnants of fun. you were drunk, sprinkled in party glitter, and you had sporadically made out with jean kirschtein, so you were a little horny too.

“that’s better.” this was so incredibly bad for you. eren was so incredibly bad for you. he was even more enticing over the phone, if not more so. you were so stupid, and you were so screwed if you stayed on the phone with him any longer.

but, really, you couldn’t help yourself. “well, eren, how’d you get my number?”

“uh, mikasa, actually. she wrote it in my planner.”

“that sounds like her. are you forgetful like that?” in the background, you heard the almost hypnotizing sounds of ice clink-ing against a glass. somehow, you just knew it was scotch he was drinking, and you couldn’t fight the various mental images that came with that knowing.

eren only chuckled, and you could practically feel the scotch roll down his throat. “oh, she doesn’t do it for me. it’s in case her planner gets caught in a fire or something.”

at that, a clumsy laugh punched from your throat. “can’t tell if you’re funny or if i’m just drunk.”

“which do you think it is?” your dress suddenly began to feel like a thousand pounds of hot fur on your body rather than the skimpy piece of sequins that it was. eren did that to you. and when you left an ecstatic giggle in the form of your answer, he only further egged you on in your flustered state. “what, you think i’m funny? c’mon tell me.”

if he were in front of you at that moment, you would’ve slipped from your dress without a second’s hesitation. how crazy would it be for you to take your dress off while you were on the phone with him? it’s not like he’d see it or anything. but you so desperately wanted him to, and the fact that he wouldn’t made you so fucking crazy. “i think that you’re lots of things, eren.”

“mhm, like what?”

“can’t say. i’m too drunk.” you let your eyes press shut for a bit, trying almost futilely to think of anything that didn’t involve flashing the governor of california. “and, hey, why’d you call me, anyway? not that i mind or anything, but don’t you have, like, an election to win?”

eren breathed a sigh—docile, yet so strangely and dangerously persuasive. “yeah, but…talking to you is a lot more fun.”

“noooo, come on. tell me the real reason.”

“that is the real reason. i swear on it. we actually were supposed to call you at some point and congratulate you on the premiere. just figured i should get around to it now.”

“do you call all your famous actress friends at—” you cut your eyes over to the alarm clock on your bedside table. “—almost one in the morning? i mean, you’re lucky i was coming home from a party, and not dead asleep or something.”

“party, huh?”

“yeah.” you actually couldn’t help the way your thighs pressed together. “still got my dress on and everything.”

“really?” the muffled sound of him shuffling in his seat made you pinch your lip between your teeth.

you giggled, a reaction you’d probably have to start getting used to for as long as you were around him. “yeah.”

“bet you look real pretty.” he thinks i’m pretty. you could’ve moaned at the thought.

suddenly, your voice was a higher, breathier octave. like you were whispering the words in his ears. “are you thinking about what i look like in my dress?”

“why wouldn’t i be?”

you wanted to take it further. you wanted to ask him what he was wearing. you wanted to ask him if you were making him hard, although a part of you knew you were. you wanted to slide your fingers under your panties and let him hear just how bad he was for you.

just as desire began to pool in your belly, so did a sharp pang of guilt. married man, married man, married man. but he had thrown a few compliments your way and you managed to forget all about that.

“eren,” how wrong would it be for you to slide your dress up your legs until it bunched at your waist? “you know we...” if you slipped the straps off your shoulders and let the rest fall from there, what then? “we c—”

“i know, i know.” he cooed, and his voice crawled out of the receiver and laced you with something. you needed him to whisper those words over your ears, or between your lips, or against whatever body part of yours he’d just finished kissing. you needed it so bad you could’ve cried. “i’m sorry.”

you sat upright, feeling immediately more sober than you had all night. “don’t be.”

“let me. let me be sorry, because i am.” the way he spoke to you was so toothachingly sweet, you think you would walk yourself off a cliff if he was talking you through it. “‘m sorry.”

your eyes close, and you were not sure if they were fluttering shut from tiredness or pressing closed from angst. the only thing you were sure of was that this conversation couldn’t possibly continue any longer. “it’s alright. i think i should be getting to bed anyway. i don’t usually stay up this late talking to future presidents.”

eren chuckled. “maybe you should do it more often.”

“maybe i should.”

AUGUST 12, THREE MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

“what the fuck,” was how you answered the phone the following morning. you had fallen asleep with it still tucked against your ear and clutched between your fingers, so you’d felt its ringing in all of its chirruping treachery.

“bad time again?” eren responded, his voice tiptoeing over a laugh.

“extremely.” you sat up in bed and took a chance glance at your bedside clock. the only person who could get a pre-eleven o’clock answer from you on one of your off days was hange. and even they knew that the resulting response was usually so grouchy that they’d be better off not bothering. so it all but bewildered you as to why you’d even let eren stay on the phone long enough to come to this realization. “it’s barely ten.”

“so i gather you’re not a morning person?” eren seemed to be the exact opposite. his voice was as brilliantly ecstatic at ten in the morning as yours would normally be after a shot of tequila. it made you want to swing your curtains open and stand tall in the sun, even with the headache spearing through your skull.

despite the small onslaught of revelations, you answered, “if it wasn’t obvious enough.”

“sooo, i’m assuming this is a really bad time to invite you to dinner with mikasa and i.”

“dinner?”

you’re only briefly surprised at his audacity to ask you to dinner with his wife after the night you two had. but then again, you doubt he would’ve even called you if she hadn’t planted your number in his planner. the realization was an emotional whiplash that wasn’t helped by your hungover state.

“uh, yeah. i meant to ask last night, but i guess i didn’t really get around to it.”

i wonder why, you’d wanted to say, but suppressed the urge with a cough. “oh, well, i—”

“and don’t feel pressured to say yes. i know my wife can be a force.”

his wife. the woman who probably awoke him this morning with a smattering of kisses. the woman who felt his arms wrap around her in the comfort of their bed not two minutes after he’d gotten off the phone with you. the same woman whose eyes were filled with nothing but guilt-inducing kindness when she invited you over for golf that night.

the answer should be a flat no. sorry, eren. i don’t think i can do dinner with you and your wife. partly because i’m very obviously and very, very inappropriately sexually attracted to you. and partly because i think i’m a little jealous of your wife. i haven’t quite unpacked that part yet, but i’m sure here—on the phone with you—is probably the worst place to do it. yeah, uh, bye. so, when you fix your stupid lips to say, “eren, the last thing you could ever do is pressure me. of course i’ll go.” you can only assume it’s for those same reasons.

tags ✧˖*°࿐ — @nyanglock @beyondsuki @westcinny @taylarxse @ittostan @rensbby @madsoncrack @shawtynoire @braxxinterlude @kai7911

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