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#attack on titan eren
revyy-0 · 22 days
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🧑‍🚒🔥
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mommypieck · 1 year
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Pussy drunk eren ?
"oh fuck baby, don't stop." eren whines, your hips rising up and down on his cock. it's the 3rd time you made him cum this night but he wants to keep going, needs to keep going. you haven't seen each other in few weeks and now he realized how much he missed your warm cunt.
his hands find your ass and he takes a handful, helping your ride him. his eyes are closed because he knows he can't look down and see your pussy cream all over his cock, knowing he would cum right here.
"it's all your fault." he says before slamming his cock deep into your pussy. he swiftly turns you on your stomach as he pounds into you with all his leftover strength.
"it's your fault. only your pussy can make me this stupid."
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cottonconnielvr · 10 months
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ Trust me , plug!eren
warnings ✩ — mention of weed, praise, high sex, slight manipulation, mention of drugs, tummy bulge, eren giving reader drugs
It was a simple question.
“Do you trust me?”
But with the way Eren was bruising your cervix, it was the most difficult question ever heard to man. Eren followed your eyes as you squirmed underneath him. His eyes stared into yours so deeply. It was as if he was trying to get inside of you (mentally atleast) , answering for you.
Your mouth opened in an attempt to answer. His thrusts knocking your eyes to the back of your head. You let out a gasp as your hands scratched up and down Eren’s back. “I-i..i love y-mmph” This caused Eren to let out a chuckle, a smile spreading onto his face. “I love you so much more, but that’s not the answer I was looking for”
One of Eren’s hands moved down to your lower stomach, pressing onto the bulge. You whined at the feeling.
Eren’s pace slowed and he gave you the deepest longest strokes you ever got. Your breath was knocked out of you, mouth starting to get dry from the previous joint Eren smoked with you.
“Now imma ask you again, kay princess?”Eren cooed to you, grabbing your jaw and forcing eye contact.
“Do you trust me?Use your words.”
You eagerly nodded your head, “mhmm! y-yes ren I do!” she’s just so cute, Eren thought as he slowly moved his hips against yours. A warm feeling flooded Eren’s stomach as you completely submitted yourself to him. You trusted him with your life, you really did.
“Gonna take this for me, hmm?” Eren reached over and grabbed a small plastic bag with a couple white pills in it. “It’s gonna make you feel so good, I promise. You trust me right?” Eren slowly picked up his pace.
“Uh huh. Yes ren” You whined, back arching.
“Good. That’s so good princess. You’re doing soooo good for me. I’m gonna make you cum so much I swear.”
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kingkonoha · 9 months
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𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔, and his friends always tease him about it.
Eren and his boys—Jean, Connie, and Armin—spent four days together in Miami, Florida. It was a much needed trip, and each of them wanted to focus solely on spending money, having fun, and meeting beautiful women.
Except Eren.
He enjoyed ziplining over pools, drinking at clubs, going to the beach, and eating nearly all of the complimentary hotel breakfast food with Connie by his side, who started stuffing fruits and cups of cereal—with no milk, as he forgot, of course—into his clothes once the staff told him breakfast would end in ten minutes.
Even so, as he sat in the hotel’s dining area that had a light aroma of stale coffee and sunscreen, he missed you desperately.
Armin, who sat down at the little table across from Eren with his muffin, fruit, and eggs, could tell that his best friend was upset by the way he stirred his own scrambled eggs around on his plate, but not actually eating them.
“Don’t worry,” Armin looked up at his friend after taking a sip of his orange juice—Armin loved hotel orange juice, and Eren hated it—and the blue-eyed boy flashed a reassuring smile. “We’re going home tomorrow, so you’ll get to see her soon.”
“Yeah,” Eren mumbled.
“Maybe you could FaceTime her before we leave for the day,” Armin suggested. After all, jet skiing and scuba diving were on the agenda, and he truly wanted Eren to enjoy it.
“I already talked to her twenty minutes ago,” Eren sighed, slouching back in his chair. “It only made me miss her even more. She has a new hairstyle and everything.”
“Eren,” Armin slowly chewed on a strawberry as he blinked. “It’s only been a few days.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Eren pinched the bridge of his nose, and that’s when Connie and Jean joined them at their table.
“Guess what,” Connie grinned, placing two packed plates of food on the table. “They said we can sit here and eat as long as we want even after they stop serving breakfast, but we just can’t go back for seconds.”
“Connie grabbed every fucking thing he saw,” Jean frowned, grabbing a seat next to Armin.
“Hell yeah,” Connie picked up a grape, tossing it at Jean’s head. “So don’t be shy, grab whatever you want and eat up!”
“Don’t throw the grapes,” Armin said. “They’re delicious, so try not to waste them.”
“Loosen up, will you?” Jean frowned, breaking his hash brown into pieces before diving right in.
“I’ll loosen up once I know everything’s going according to plan,” Armin paused. “I mean, someone has to make sure we’re on schedule. It’s our last day here, so if we miss something, we won’t get another chance to do it.”
“The hell does that have to do with throwing grapes?” Connie said, earning a laugh from Jean.
Jean ruffled Armin’s blonde hair. “Don’t worry, we know you love the beach. We’re not gonna miss anything, alright? So just relax.”
“Right,” Armin smiled softly, “sorry.”
For a moment, everyone ate their food and engaged in somewhat polite chatter about today’s planned events.
“Alright, so we have our entire morning and afternoon planned,” Jean paused. “What are we doing tonight?”
Armin took that opportunity to bring the one silent member at their table into the conversation.
“Eren, is there anything you wanna do?”
“Yeah. Pack.”
And with that, Eren left the table, tossing his uneaten food in the garbage before heading back to the hotel room.
“Damn it, Connie,” Jean frowned. “I told you to let the guy bring his girlfriend.”
Connie tossed his arms up defensively, swallowing his food before he said, “go to Hell.”
As the day went on, Eren managed to have a bit of fun with his friends. Even so, as he swam with colorful fish and zoomed across the sea, a tingle of pain would shoot through his heart whenever he remembered that you weren’t with him, experiencing all of the bucket-list worthy adventures by his side.
As the group headed home in Jean’s SUV, Eren sat in the backseat besides Connie. He pressed his head against the foggy window, looking out at the orange streetlights passing by.
“Eren,” Connie fought back a laugh, pulling his phone out to record the pouting man. “Why are you acting like you’re in a R&B music video right now?”
“Shut up, Constance.” Eren effortlessly tossed his hand out and smacked Connie’s tattooed arm.
Connie quickly ended the recording.
“I’m gonna drop Eren off first,” Jean said, gripping the steering wheel as he made a left turn, “I really think he might die if he doesn’t get to Y/N soon.”
“Turn left again,” Armin said, directing Jean from the passenger seat. “But guys, leave him alone. Y/N’s lovely. None of us can understand what he’s going through because the three of us are single.”
“Thank you, Armin,” Eren said.
Eren folded his arms across his chest, continuing to sulk like a kid who just had their favorite toy taken away.
But, once Jean turned down a familiar street, the depressed man instantly perked up.
“You’re grinning like a toddler, dude,” Connie teased, but Eren ignored him, gripping the door handle tightly.
Jean tugged on his hat, slowing down as he pulled up in front of your home. However, before Jean could come to a complete stop, Eren started to jump out of the car.
“Eren! Be careful!” Armin warned as Jean slammed on the brakes. His warning was utterly useless, as Eren was already halfway through your front yard by the time the words fell from Armin’s lips.
“You forgot your bags!” Jean shouted, rolling down his window. “Didn’t shut my damn door, either.”
Suddenly, you opened your front door, having heard all of the commotion outside. And when you smiled, all of Eren’s friends could easily see why he was so in love with you.
Eren nearly knocked you over once he finally made it into your arms, a big smile spreading across that beautiful face of his. He showered your forehead and cheek with kisses as he inhaled your comforting scent.
“I missed you so much,” he said.
“I can tell,” you teased, hugging the tall man back. “I missed you too.”
He pulled away from the hug only to cup your face with his large hands. He kissed your lips softly, melting over the touch he had craved for days.
“I’m not going anywhere without you ever again. I don’t care if it’s the grocery store or to the living room,” Eren mumbled against your lips, and you giggled softly.
“Hey!” Jean suddenly honked his horn. “You’ve seen her, now come get your stuff!”
“In a minute,” Eren shouted back, flipping the driver off.
He just had to stare at that gorgeous face of yours for a few more minutes, and who could blame him? He was madly in love with you.
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pwncez · 3 months
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꒰ྀི 𝐵𝐿𝒰𝐸 𝒟𝑅𝐸𝒜𝑀 ꒱ྀི
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꒰ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . ꒱ word count 29.4kay , prequel to 2w&l [ can be read as a stand alone ] , black hyper fem reader ! , brother's [ former? ] best friend eren , ony and eren r bestiez , reader'z 19 in dis , ony + eren are 23 , bisexual eren , bisexual ony , tattoo artist eren , auto designer ony , some miscommunication , reader has a panic attack , crybaby reader , switches povs a lot in dis ! ! be warned , flirting , ony says da n - word a few times , virginity loss , lotsa cum omgie , big dicks ony + eren , eren has a dick piercing , daddy kink , oral sex [ fem. receiving ] , masturbation , cum swallowing , praisepraisepraise , reader's not particularly chubby however she iz described wif a soff' tummy , all of da feelings rllie jump out in d end , endin's also kind of abrupt cuz i doooo wna expand more on da sexual dynamic of da relationship :] will do so later . [ also on aO3 ]
𝜗ϱ 𝓁𝓊𝓋 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝓂 𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓀 . . . phew ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ ∩꒱ྀིა finally ! are u happie she'z here ?? took mi like . . over a month 2 write dis . story title is inspired by dis song . Minors , Ageless Blogs Do Not Touch ! ! ! !
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“ ‘teoooo!” 
black, thick heeled, mary jane loafers drum against the burnished, cherry oak panels of flooring. tiptaptiptaptiptap. a girl’s little hand reaches out for the curved doorframe, using it for leverage to stop her body from propelling forward, to keep her legs from continuing to pump and sprint past it, as she pokes her head into a bedroom. 
sheer, dandelion yellow curtains billow atop of a warm, spring breeze. the current is smooth and gentle; flies over the desk that sits diagonal from the window, drawing attention to an algebra two textbook that sits open atop of it whose thin pages seem to shyly bid her hello, and a binder right beside it. 
empty.
a wee, mean pout graces your lips, plush and glazed over with the sweet, artificial, watermelon flavoring of a lollipop to which’s stick you hold between small fingers, and to further showcase your ever-growing frustration, as if your groans and huffs weren’t enough, you stomp your foot prior to lifting your chin and belling out a firm, “ 'teo!” 
he’s not in his room, in the backyard, nor the kitchen. 
‘mateo’s a teenager now,’ you’ve heard your mother tell her friends last week over raspberry iced teas and fruit tarts after their book club meeting. you’d been a few feet away from where the six of them sat on the veranda, crouched within the shimmering, sun warmed palette of grass as you held out a slightly trembling finger right atop the tip of a blade of green where a particular, stubborn ladybug had landed to coax him to climb upon. ‘he goes to school, eats us out of house and home, does his chores, then holes up in the basement. i don’t like it, but — it isn’t the toddler days so, i guess i can’t be too mad.’
the basement.
once more, the tapping staccato of your mary jane’s echo throughout the otherwise quiet home as you race downstairs, make a sharp right at the end of the railing, then come face to face with a shut door.
‘open it and freddy kreuger’s goin’ to snatch you in, slit your stomach, and replace your guts with maggots and worms,’ casually, mateo had informed you of your awaited fate six months ago while standing upon the bottom stair, tuna melt in hand, and toasted breadcrumbs decorating his chapped lips. ‘stay out of the basement. you have your playroom and i have mine.’
the entire family had been well aware of your more than grave fear of the rubberfaced boogeyman after a sleepover with your friends to celebrate your tenth birthday two years ago. you’d snuck the dvd out of mateo’s media console cabinet after you were sure he and your parents had fell asleep, furthermore, all five of you girls woke them up with screams and sobs only about a half hour into the film. let this also be commended as the day where your first panic attack struck — it was that bad.
and while your parents use freddy as means of a reprimand to keep you from rising up on your tip toes to reach the highest shelf in the pantry and, quite literally, jam your sticky, little hands into the cookie jar, or maintain good grades . . . mateo uses it to keep you out of his space.
discounting the trembling of your fingers and throat knotting with a lump big enough to induce you to feel as though you’d choke and faint at that same moment, you reach for the gold handle of the doorknob. 
you’re a brave girl — the bravest of them all. 
“. . . ‘teo?” your voice is a meek whimper as the door is pushed til only a slither of space separates it from the threshold. 
the case of stairs leading down to the flat level of the basement are made of thick, solid wood. because of the boards being so inured, the sound of the soles of your shoes landing on them seem to be amplified as you cautiously begin to step down, one by one.
“mateo?” it’s only right that your fear starts to transcend and tiptoe a line of irritation. you feel as though you’re quite literally risking your life, dancing with the devil, all in efforts just to let your big brother know that your mother told him to separate his laundry by wash cycle specification. how stupid.
the closer you get to the bottom, the louder comes the sound of applause, cheers, and, oddly, the deep tenors of multiple voices. 
the corners of your lips are tugged downwards when you take in the scene in front of you. 
it isn’t dust covered boxes toppled to the brim with old photo albums, deceased loved ones clothes, old radio sets, and aged, money collecting antiques that decorate your basement — no, your father had the space renovated and constructed into something more akin to a lounge a week after you all moved into the home. 
the ac is cranked up to its max. a sharp waft of cool air flies over your plaid skirt and through the locs of your braids. on the sixty inch flat screen television is a video game’s loading screen — madden, and seated on the loveseat, back angled to face you, is a boy.
aslant from him, is your brother lounged across a large bean bag chair, playstation controller in hand, a can of cherry coke at his socked feet, and bag of chester hot fries upon his lap. he’s chewing on what looks like a handful of them, murmuring, “ ‘m gonna whoop your ass, jaeger. watch this.” while crumbs fly out of his mouth with enough force to compare to bullets. 
you cringe at the sight, prior to finally making yourself known.
“mateo.”
two heads snap towards you, and you happen to meet a green eyed stare first. 
if asked, you wouldn’t have been able to describe it back then — the immediate shock your heart seems to undergo as it bunny hops over its usual, steady beat then begins to pound against the corral of your ribs. a simple glance from him has your painted nails sinking into the meat of your palms until a bloom of red bordered them. similar to a spooked fawn, you stand there for a moment, knees trembling as the toes of your feet begin to idly turn inwards towards one another. 
the thing is, you’ve always been a bit of a shy girl, opting to stand behind your parents’ legs when being introduced to one of their friends or a long distanced family member. never have you been able to place your own order at a drive thru’s window or raise your hand in class, granted you almost always knowing the answers . . nonetheless, you don’t think this current feeling compares to those. it’s something deeper — more fierce. at a minimum, you were always able to mumble your name or shake a hand when being introduced, albeit, after mateo does such — ‘sorry, man. this my lil’ sis ( ❤︎ ). ( ❤︎ ), this eren, say hi,’ you’re only able to fester enough courage to lift a hand and flutter your shaking fingers. 
eren is your brother’s age, you can tell. he wears from what you could see, a plain black tee with a band’s name, nirvana, you read, printed on the front. his hair is tapered cleanly at the back, however, a bit long in the front, a few strands fall into his eyes that blink plainly at you before he gives a polite, closed mouth smile and holds up his hand. “hey, ‘s cool to meet you.” a thin strip of titanium runs horizontally across the top row of his flawless, white lines of teeth and you let your eyes drag across the four rubber bracelets he wears on his left wrist, two, tiny blemishes near his jawline, ‘til finally, you let them land on the fine dark hairs that line the top of his plump, upper lip. nadeshiko — you’d been taught the word a few weeks ago by one of your friends who was japanese. ‘it’s a really, really pretty shade of pink. kinda like bubblegum.’ 
nadeshiko pink was the color of them. they shined subtly, whether it be by chapstick or rather him quickly licking them prior to speaking, you don’t know. but they were pretty . . he was pretty.
“mm,” you fist the fabric of your skirt in a fist. an uncomfortable warmth begins at the peak of your nose before you feel it blossoming to both your cheeks. “m-mommy wants you, ‘teo.”
your brother lets his head fall back before giving a short groan and setting his controller down to then stand, “alright. hol’ on, bro. i’ll be back.”
you follow close behind him when he starts to trudge up the stairs, skipping two at a time. unable to help it, you spare a single last glance of eren before the sight of him is hidden behind the wall once more, albeit, alone in your room, you can’t help but pout upon the realization that he’d been reimmersed into the video game, not another regard of you given.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ❤︎
you hadn’t known what the feeling was.
you just knew that you really, really, really liked being around eren. following the months after meeting him for the first time, eren pops up at your house at a more increasing extent. every friday, sometimes saturdays, a few thursdays, a rare tuesday. a glance of him lounging upon the living room couch, one, long leg sprawled along the cushioned arm, stare heavy and long as he gazed at the television was always just enough for you to feel that exact sensation of queasy warmth just as you did in the basement.
you’d watch him smile with your brother, watch the magnificent sea green of his eyes glimmer before they’d tightly shut in order for him to throw his head back and emit the most prettiest bellow of laughter from the pit of his stomach, and sometimes, shards of jagged, tined ice would skirt the edges of that queasy warmth come the realization that mateo got to see that same, striking grin everyday.
“alright, ma’. we headin’ to jj’s party — i’ll be home by eleven like you said.”
parties, parks, football games, basketball courts, you’d never seen your brother hang out with someone as much as he does eren. 
kindled summers peppered with warm nights and the comforting buzz of fireflies and cicadas phase into the chambré days of autumn, and soon, that becomes a frosty winter, heaving with dim, caliginous skies and porcelain mugs the shape of gingerbread houses with creamy, hot cocoa. indubitably, enters spring — with the fresh budding of flowers, warm rain, and new swelling of leaves upon branches. and the cycle begins anew.
you watch eren grow. you watch him grow out the thick, chocolate waves of his hair until it reaches his mid back, then, you also watch him cut it all off again. his style of clothing transforms, what was once band tees, faded jeans, and vans becomes air force ones, new balances, and jordans. more loose jeans and sweats, hoodies, and beanies. his retainer is retired to only night wears, he’d told your mother, and his acne smoothens over into flawless, warm tan skin after a trip to the dermatologist and a prescription. you watch eren become a man, and naturally, your feelings for him triple. 
it’s only fair that you feel a little bit blue, seated within the balcony box of an auditorium as your new principle calls out his and mateo’s names to walk the stage and grab their diplomas. the smiles the two of them wear are nothing short of bright and wide as they do. fighting to hide your pout, you stand behind the jittering, bustling bodies of your parents, aunt, and grandmother, after the ceremony’s over, watching them take what seemed like a million pictures and videos of the two boys on their day, until you’re ultimately nudged by your mother between them. “picture with your sister, mateo, c’mon! big smiles — you three are so cute. oh my god, michael, look at them!”
more than hyperaware of eren’s arm draped casually over the hill of your shoulder as he leans in with a smile, you struggle to keep from tensing up or trembling too much or as your arms go behind his and mateo’s backs. he’d smelt of fresh soap and cedarwood, that day — potent and electrifying. you scramble between feeling relived and bummed when the pictures are over and he’s giving mateo a goodbye hug. “i’ll see you later, man. probably tomorrow or somethin’,” he’s smiling after pulling away. “you know me.”
“oh, for sure,” mateo nods. “go find your moms. tell her i said hi.”
he gives you one last wave and you return it with a warm smile.
for years to come, that’d be the last memory you’d have of eren jaeger.
with mateo off to college and you a freshmen in high school, it’s difficult to find intel on where he’d gone. he had fled the city, that was for sure, nonetheless, no one knew where, not even mateo. “he always told me he wanted to be a tattoo artist . . you can’t do that in the suburbs,” clarified your brother on his rare visit home for thanksgiving. “eren’s never had social media either so,” he shrugged, face smoothed over with indifference. “hopefully he’s okay wherever he is.”
you suppose it’s true when they say high school is one of the fastest four years of your life. it’s all a blur. 
with you participating on the student council, school newspaper, and being vice captain of the cheer squad, your extracurricular activities bring not only a lot of attention, but more friends. heedless to say, by the end of your senior year, almost everyone knows your name. you’re crowned as ‘the sweetest’ and ‘most likely to be successful’ within the yearbook and accepted into the most prestigious university two states over from where your parents lived, bringing you here today.
it’s now your sophomore year of college. the first year had been something . . enervating, you’d say. you had hardly even left your dorm — opting to stay in and enroot yourself into the monstrous sludge that is college level assignments. freshmen fifteen had caught you by the throat, reason being pizza, instant ramen, and iced coffee had become your meal staples, nevertheless, while some of the calories had made your tummy softer, most of such had gone to your thighs, hip, and butt, spreading them wider and filling you up from where you’d lack come the years before. 
today, you’re nineteen. it’s only the second month of the semester and you’re already studying for two midterms. 
“okay, so, what about tomorrow?”
you shake your head from where you sit, butterfly style, in the cushioned seat of your desk chair, laptop open onto the window of an electronic textbook and upon your legs as you click a pink star by a sentence to remind future you to paraphrase and write down in your notebook. “mm-mm, gigi. tomorrow i plan to catch up on sleep.”
your roommate, giselle, is nothing short of a character. on first greetings, she’d been quiet and kind — allowing you to choose which side of the room you wanted first, inviting you out to the dining hall with her, bringing you back snacks from her trip to the market. over time, shimmers of her personality began to show. she’s kind of loud, energetic, stubborn, fun . . always down for a night out. it shocks you how she still maintains anything above a three point o’. 
she sits upon her bed, compact mirror in hand that she holds dangerously close to her eye where she adjusts a strip lash upon, “mm, what about sunday?”
“uh uh.”
“okay, next thursday?”
“cramming for a quiz.”
giselle lets her arms flap onto her lap as she fixes you with an exhausted stare, “friday, then.”
“can’t. visiting my parents next weekend.”
“oh my god.”
she throws her head back, “seriously, ( ❤︎ ). can we fucking hang out for once? i never see you outside of this room.”
you play with a ring on your finger, twisting it left and right while you hesitate, “i dunno, gi.” 
giselle stands, lengthening herself to of her beautiful, five foot nine glory, then begins to scoop her knee length, knotless braids up into a high ponytail while walking over to you, “tonight then. just me, you, and like two of my other friends. we’re gonna go to a bar, my big cousin works there, she can sneak us a shot or two — it’ll be fun. we’ll only be there ‘til like, ten thirty.”
quietly, you mull her words over. last time you went out’d been a few months back . . a house party. it was fun, lots of fun if you decide to be completely honest with yourself. your brain incurred a break from persistent studying and when back in lectures the few days after, your focus and diligence inflated. you suppose it’s time for a break, to indulge in life’s simple pleasures again. why not? 
“okay,” you melt where you sit, trying your best to give giselle an upset frown though your wide grin breaks it each time. 
“okay, okay!” she squeals and bounces on her toes while running back to her bed to grab her phone. “hurry! get ready, i’m gonna text them and let you know you’re finally comin’ outside again.”
you make sure to save your progress and power your mac off while rolling your eyes, “this better be fun.”
“it isssss! i swear, i promise, for real.”
it takes you almost two and a half hours to get ready. you haven’t shaved in almost a month, therefore, your shower routine gets bumped up to an even forty five minutes due to you needing to exfoliate your skin with a yummy, vanilla and cocoa butter scented sugar scrub and lather shaving cream across your body. you get dressed then do your make up and hair, and by the time you’re grabbing your purse, giselle advises you of the awaiting uber outside.
“won’t your cousin, like . . . get in trouble for what she’s doing?” warily, you ask the question while gazing at the shadows of passing streetlights and open signs coasting along the features of her face.
glossed lips purse as giselle shakes her head, “owner’s never there. she basically owns it herself, honestly.”
you decide to take her word for it. the bar is named ‘ the grove. ‘ it’s located on the more opulent and lavish side of the city, a fifteen minute drive out from your school. the gray bricked building sits on the corner of a main street, right beside a rooftop dining restaurant. tinted, glass double doors shield the interior of the establishment from passing onlookers and upon first entry, the first thing you notice is the lighting. warm and dim, it encrusts the bar with an ambience of intimacy. to the right of you is the bar wall, it reaches what could be the ceiling, if not for the balcony that hovers over it, full to the edges with bottles of alcohol. the bar counter stretches for about twenty feet. it curves in then out, forming a design of what looks like the infinity sign with bustling bartenders filling the two holes of space between. 
you’re nervous.
never having been to a place like this before, you struggle with the decision of opting to sit at the actual bar, the few round tables in front of the small platform of the stage, the curtained off sofas along the edges of the wall, or up on the balcony. providentially, after likely viewing how tight your spine tenses directly after you both stepped pass the threshold, giselle intertwines the fingers of her hand within your own to tug you over to the bar, near the middle where her other two friends sit. 
greetings and hugs are shared. you recognize the two of them — jasmine and lana. you often see them at social events around campus and a few parties. similar to giselle, the two of them are what you’d also call social butterflies, floating here then there, next to you one minute, then carrying a conversation with someone new the next. you take a seat upon a stool beside your friends, tugging down the bottom hem of your tiny, pink, velvet skirt before you do. “what’s gonna be your drink of choice today, hm?” lana rubs her shoulder against yours, giving you a smirk while tapping her nail against her own glass. “i’ve got a manhattan.”
timidly, you shrug, eyes scanning the laminated menu a few inches away from you. “uh . . pina colada?”
immediately, an accord of giggles are heard. your responding pout is precious, “can y’all not?”
“no, no — nana,” giselle waves a woman over to where you all sit. you take it that she’s her cousin, the two of them share a few features, although slight. giselle introduces you to her prior to stating, “four shots of casa, an amf, and pina colada, pretty please?”
“mm, all for you?” teasingly, nana lifts an eyebrow while reaching for four shot glasses under the counter. giselle’s previous bambi eyed expression levels out in order for a more smug to soon replace it, “well, duh, of course!” she’s snickering when you nudge her calf with a foot. “ugh, for all of us, nana. don’t be like that.”
“mhm. sure, sure.”
it takes about an hour for you to get it — for you to understand why so many enjoyed frequenting bars and dwelling within the establishments when their lives were either at their highest of highs or lowest of lows. with the components of two shots and a pina colada intertwining and embedding themselves within the vessels of your body, you loosen up and begin to enjoy yourself. it’s a nice place to be and get away without worrying about real life’s problems. the four of you girls busy yourselves with the latest campus gossip, about which professors were pissing you off the most and which you’d sleep with if boiled down to you needing some extra credit near the end of the semester— very juvenile, albeit . . . fun.
after one more shot is when your eyes begin to wander.
they stray from paying attention to lana as she rants about what caused the latest breakup between her and her girlfriend to the end of the bar on your right. an older woman, you suppose around mid thirties, busies herself on her phone while a glass of cognac sits next to a tan birkin bag on her left. you trail them across a group of buddies there, a couple here, lonely man there, until you land on a man.
he’s seated on the left, at the ‘ curve ‘ of the infinity where the bar rounds out.
your eyes squint with suspicion come the rising feeling of uncertainty, excitement, and . . unfortunately nausea as you stare quietly.
he sits with a friend, nodding along to whatever he’s saying while picking through a small basket of french fries. he’s . . beautiful, you find. a certain mystic charm that surrounds the air of where he sits — that freezes you in place, though sucks you in all the while. his hair is a bit long. he turns his head to gaze into his acquaintance’s eyes and say something, quickly, you steal a glimpse of the messily wrapped bun sitting at the nape of his neck. though the lighting of the bar is dim, you force yourself to keep watching . . to keep staring ‘cause . . . fuck . . why does he look so familiar?
“. . . ( ❤︎ )?”
vaguely, within the far pocket of your mind, you hear giselle calling your name.
the guy smiles — its a big one, reveals almost all thirty two of his teeth as it pushes smile lines and dimples into his cheeks. 
“. . eren?”
your feet is moving before you’re able to process it. you stumble on the first few steps, feet needing to slow down with your mind, before you’re flipping back the curls of your sew in and righting your posture. 
giselle groans, “oh my god, this girl is drunk. watch my purse — ( ❤︎ )!”
“eren?”
two heads turn when they hear his name. you’re only able to catch a blur bordered glance of his friend before your focused is directed towards him. god, you feel as though you’re twelve all over again. you’d thought that he couldn’t get any more attractive, nonetheless, he did. he wears a black, leather varsity jacket, badges of suede patched all over it with a clean, white tee underneath and thin, diamond chain dangling from the smooth column of his neck. eyes of cold teal study you for a moment — your eyes, your lips, your nose. he seems to scan each and every feature prior to the glacial irises of his own melt and a slow smile starts to spread across his lips. 
“nah, no fuckin’ way,” he mutters.
a nipping chill rakes the cord of your spine.
your eyes have to rise an entire foot higher come the action of him standing to his full height and soon pulling you in by the sides of your ribs to then wrap you in a tight hug. “( ❤︎ ), what the fuck, man?”
you giggle, unable to contain your excitement, “eren, oh my gosh.”
“what the f—“ he pulls away to hold you at arm’s length and take you in. a longer sweep of his eyes from the pristine lines of white that glosses the tips of your toes to the cushioned headband holding your bangs back on your head has something alien twinkling within the depths of sea green, and you, too engrossed in the sight, the scent, the feel of finally your eren, hardly notice the lingering stare upon your midsection before they trail up to your collarbones, lips, then eyes. licking his own, smile lessening to a smirk, eren lets you go to soon lean his back on the bar counter while folding his arms, “what you doin’ here, lil girl?”
you’re aware of giselle behind you when she touches your waist, “oh, ‘m here with m’friends from school. this is giselle.”
giving a polite smile, giselle leans in to shake eren’s hand, “hi, sorry. i thought she was walking up to some random ‘cause,” dearly, as if you both were two pups in a pin, she tips her head against yours and you lean into her embrace with a big grin, “someone here drunk a little bit too much,” after, she hums, “i didn’t know you guys knew each other.”
“oh, yeah,” eren’s eyes are fixed directly upon your own. “we go way back.”
you flush. you simply can’t help it — how can one human being appear so captivating? “mhm,” you nod, head tipping a bit further back and chin falling much quicker than usual to be classified as anything but a motion of insobriety, “i knew eren when he was in high school, gi’ . . . and i was a, hic —, a tiny, baby ( ❤︎ ).”
giselle smirks, finding you all too cute, “is that right?”
“mhm.”
she turns to eren, “so, i take it you guys wanna,” a finger is waved between you both. “catch up? talk a bit?”
eren drawls a low, “of course, of course,” while smiling. “ ‘m gonna get some water in her. ‘ve never seen her like this before.”
“ima be watching,” cutting her eyes, giselle gives eren a quick examine. “i’ll be back to get her soon.”
with her gone, you realize her grip on your waist had been what was stabilizing you from falling straight onto your face. gradually, you began to tip forward onto the rounds of your toes, however, eren is quick to catch and guide you to sit down onto the stool he’d been occupying, “okay, okay,” he murmurs, reaching for the glass of water beside the basket of fries. “you good? you feel okay?”
you sip from his straw, grateful for the cool liquid, “mhm,” you hum quietly. “gi says ‘m a lightweight.”
a low chuckle is heard on your left. you turn your head to discern the cause and notices it had split from the lips of eren’s friend. the tone of his skin is a gorgeous, warm toned dark brown. a red sox cap is positioned backwards on his head full of waves and low irises of toasted, somber auburn shines brightly within rings of pink. you discover that he’s pretty, too. your nerves ignite at the ends, as if sparked by a match. suddenly, you’re hyperaware of everything you do — how you sit, how you talk, how you breathe.
you press your soft palms against the fluff of cheeks, willing some composure while watching a plump droplet of water race down the surface of the chilled glass veiled in condensation, “sorry,” you can’t help but murmur. 
“nah, you good, ma.”
quickly cognizant of never having introduced the two of you, eren softly says, “shit, sorry. ( ❤︎ ), this is . . this is ony. ony, this ( ❤︎ ).”
timidly, you give a small, nonetheless warm smile and hold a hand out, “nice to meet you.”
ony takes it softly within his own, the sheer expanse of it completely dwarfing your little paw as he gives it two, slow rises of up and down. his eyes never part from yours as he mumbles a soft, “likewise. it’s a pleasure.”
when you pull away, you reach for the glass of water again — wrap your lips around the straw and gather enough of it inside your mouth to make your cheeks bulge, prior to swallowing.
“so, why you out here, hm?” eren leans the side of his body against the counter once more. “your parents know you out in a bar? there’s no way you’re twenty one yet, i know that for a fact.”
you give a weak shove to his bicep. call it a cheap shot, whatever. you aren’t surprised to find that just as the rest of him had grew, his muscles have bulked up, too. “don’t be a snitch, eren,” you sniffle and shake your head. “ ‘m . . ‘m nineteen. ‘m grown.”
his eyebrows lift, “oh, you grown?”
“i’m grown.”
pushing his tongue against the lush warmth of his cheek, eren smirks before slowly nodding, “okay. alright.” he grabs the basket of fries with two fingers hooked and slides them in a beeline til they were in front of you, “bet y’lil ass didn’t even eat today before you came here,” he mumbles underneath his breath. “eat. you can’t tell me no.”
you weren’t planning to. you take a few between your fingers and bite into them, “. . i’ve missed you,” the confession is grumped through a mean pout as you slowly chew. “you disappeared on me a-after graduation.”
stunned silent by your bluntness, eren only has enough brain power to stare at your pretty face for a spell that soon stretches into a quiet reply of, “ ‘ve missed you too . . i’m sorry about all that.”
“you hurt ‘teo’s feelings, too,” you swallow your fries, eyes focused on your finger that clasps into the open hole of the basket so that you can begin to twist it back and forth. “he acts like he doesn’t care, but i know he does. you were like, one of his only friends.”
you hear eren adjust himself. he turns to face the area behind you, lips parting for words to emit, until he ultimately clamped them closed, faces you again, and sighs, “i’m sorry . . really. i didn’t mean to . . ghost all of you like that. it was fucked up.”
“it was,” you nod in agreement. “wasn’t nice, eren.”
“mhm,” quietly, he admires you. “i know. was gonna pop over one day and surprise you guys, but,” he sucks some air in between his teeth and rubs at the diamond stud that pierces through the skin of his earlobe. “got scared, you know?”
“mm, yeah?” you tilt your head when you look up at him. 
and won’t you look at that . . .
eren decides this is the moment where he realizes you aren’t a shy, timid, spoiled little girl anymore. you wear lengthy, cat eyed wispies along your lash line and they seem to flutter as you blink softly at him. he tries not to glance at your tits that sit up nice and full within your long sleeved, square necked top, at your soft, bare thighs because your skirt just had to be so fucking short that you’d might as well have came out the house in a belt — because this is his former best friend’s baby sister.
he’s watched you grow up just as you did him. 
in the years knowing you before, he’s never looked at you as nothing more than mateo’s sister. he’d greet you sometimes when he would catch sight of you seated at the dining room table completing your homework assignments. on a rare day would he tease you and pluck the tail end of a braid, finish the rest of your favorite apple juice, all in efforts to be an inconvenience and make you whine. in a way, he supposes he began to look at you as a sister, too.
though, tonight, he forces himself to realize that you both are older now . . grown.
you’ve gotten those pretty tits played with before, maybe. by some insolent boy in grade eleven, in the back of his dad’s old pick up at a drive in movie theater. you’ve kissed and tasted and felt and yearned.
nonetheless of eren knowing this, he still can’t shake the feeling of wrongness that versos each of these thoughts. 
making himself look away, he licks his lips and grabs hold of the glass of water to take his own sip, “you don’t think i should?”
you smile — pretty ass smile. 
god, how puberty fucking blessed you. 
“no, no, i think you should,” you hum. “it’ll make us all happy — hey, why’d you come here, anyway?”
it appears as though your drunken, little mind races quicker than your mouth. you jump around on topics and slur your words, and as much as it is precious, eren figures he’d rather you be sober for any more heavy topics within your conversation. “work on tattoos. perfect my craft. build clientele. angelcrest was,” as if he could feel the weight of the town on his shoulders, eren flexes his shoulders and clears his throat. “stifling.”
again, you nod, “mhm, i get it. that’s why i had to leave — tattoos!” suddenly, you notice them. on his hands, fingers, knuckles, there’s a peek of ink coiling up the back of his neck. 
your eyes are round with fascination as you reach for his hand before flinching back. “can i . . — wait, permission,” you are suddenly reminded by your mother, ‘ don’t touch anyone without their consent first. ‘ you blush. of all days, of all times. “can i touch?”
eren grins. oh, you’re fucking adorable. “yeah, go ahead.”
silently, ony watches the two of you interact.
if he decides to be completely honest with himself . . it’s cute.
akin to a tiny, diffident lamb and an attentive, keen wolf — the two of you seem to dance around one another. hesitating with some of your words, pausing to let the other finish speaking first if one of you happened to accidentally talk over the other, trying to keep yourselves from making any sort of unnecessary physical contact. though eren has never mentioned you before prior to tonight, going off the conversation you two share and the obvious hug, ony realizes that the two of you share history. 
he hones in on how eren smiles at you, how he nudges the glass of water on over to get you to swallow a few more sips, makes you eat a bigger handful of fries.
truly, ony would believe the two of you were just strictly, old buds if not for how you unconsciously lean into the man. 
it’s somewhat comical due to the fact that eren isn’t being the slightest bit subtle neither. his eyes seem to tremble when they look into yours — it’s as though he’s fighting with himself to not give in and glance down at your plush, glossed up lips for the thousandth time or admire the graceful line of your neck, down to the smooth canvas of your bosom where a layer of dainty, gold chains lay upon. 
you both are train wrecks, nevertheless, ony can’t tear his sight elsewhere.
“shit, i know that university . . i live about twenty minutes away.”
you’re tilting your head again — in that same endearing manner you did before and ony watches the limbs of eren’s fingers grit, hitherto him shoving the fist into his coat’s pocket. “really?” your voice pitches an octave higher, coated with sweet wonder. “been thinkin’ about you all this time and you’ve only been twenty minutes away?”
eren shakes his head with a smirk, diverting his eyes to a crumpled, coffee shop’s receipt he tugs out from his jeans’ pocket and soon, a lone pen he finds laying beside the menu. “here.” swiftly, he jots down his number on the backside of the slip. “save it, hm? call me whenever you need me.”
always impeccable with her timing, giselle makes herself known after the receipt is folded and tucked safely into the waistband of your skirt. “okay,” you smile and turn towards ony. “it was so n-, hic—, nice to meet you . . ony. bye-bye guys.”
both men watch you stand to your feet and lean into giselle for balance. your friend wraps her arm around the dip of your waist, murmuring ‘i know, i know’s to your muddled giggles and faint babbling as you walk away. 
“. . . mm,” is all ony says with a slim leer, vigilant in how eren replaces your seat with a heavy sigh. a soft smile still graces the petals of his lips, in spite of the fact of you being long gone outside of the door and ony can’t help but ask, “y’all go way back, huh?”
facetiously, eren gives a long groan and ducks his head, “bro, don’t gimme that shit.”
ony chuckles, “nah, nah. she’s cute, jaeger. y’all used to be friends?”
with a slow shrug, eren dwells on that word, “. . not really — i don’t fuckin’ know. i used to be tight with her brother back when we was in high school, like when i was sixteen . . she was twelve. we didn’t really talk much, me and her, but we was cool.”
ony shoots back the rest of his whiskey, turning his focus to the bitter zing the alcohol leaves within the pillow of his mouth instead of letting the both of your interactions play out in his mind once more. the giggles, smiles, shy touches, and hums. sniffling, he casually utters, “i think lil ma has a crush.”
eren shakes his head. “shut the fuck up, o’.”
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ❤︎
the worst day of your short lived, admittedly average life is on a thursday, two weeks after.
eren’s face might as well have been pressed and developed into film and looped on a projector within your brain — you can’t stop thinking about him. the sleepy eyed stare he subjected you to as you spoke, never tearing them away from your own not once, the graceful slope of his strong nose, hollow dimples, calloused hands, wide shoulders, it all makes your head go a bit fuzzy. the morning after had been a bit of a blur. subjected to needing giselle to give you the run down and clearer recaps of all that exactly happened, you end up cocooning yourself within the white polka dotted fleece of your favorite blanket while whining and begging her, ��no, no. did i say that, really? please, gi, don’t tell me i said that.” as she went on to describe your behavior.
you suppose it’s rather clear that intoxicated you carries more, or rather less, of a filter on her in contrary to the sober.
nevertheless, you also think that you should thank her. sober you wouldn’t have approached eren at that bar, never in a million years. you’d have convinced yourself it wasn’t him, veritably, if soon realizing it was, you would have glued yourself to that stool you sat in, too anxiety ridden and meek to do anything but share an occasional, uncontrived peek in hopes that he’d notice you first.
sighing out, you adjust yourself within your bed, sinking deeper into the you-shaped indentation your body has molded the few hours before. your phone screen lays only inches away from your face, dimmed to its lowest possible setting. it’s currently three o’ eight am, you have to be up for class in approximately four hours. giselle’s soft snores normally are a comforting white noise, though tonight, you simply can’t get your mind to quiet down and focus on them.
an episode of bridgerton playing on your screen is soon swiped away so that you are able to open instagram.
liking a few stories here, commenting there, respond to a rare dm here . . . you find your thumb pressing down on that tiny magnifying glass and the blinking cursor seems to mock you as you hesitate.
fuck it.
eren’s phone number is soon typed into the search bar and without glancing twice at the username, you click upon the top result.
‘ jaeinkz ‘
a whopping total of nine hundred and twenty six thousand followers decorate the top of his page, adjacent to a label of two hundred and fifty five posts. 
“oh, wow,” can’t help but slip faintly from your lips as you push the satin fabric of your bonnet higher up your forehead, it’s as if you thought it had been obstructing your vision . . . making you perhaps see things that weren’t there, however, no, it’s true. eren’s profile picture is an image of his turned with a glistening, diamond bezel shining in the lobe of his ear and feathery strands of fawn escaping a beanie framing it. in his bio sits three tagged accounts ‘ @.mininkz @.mikakolors @.sashart ‘ with a booking email underneath. as you scroll, you find that his work is nothing short of exquisite. he seems to dabble in almost all styles — traditional, blackwork, geometric, and hand poke . . what sticks out to you the most, and what he seemed to love doing if going by how many have been posted along his page, had been watercolor.
you appreciate the diversity of his posts.
skin tones range from a nearly translucent pale to the deepest brown, and still, regardless of them all, marvelously, vibrant shades of ruby, orange, amber, cerulean, and lime leap out.
‘ incredible ‘ ‘ best artist out rs bro ‘ ‘ u killed dis shit E ‘ ‘ every time i think u can’t get any better u prove me wrong ‘
you find yourself smiling at the comments — why? you’re not too sure of the answer. maybe it’s because you’re simply proud. you were always sure that eren would have gone on to accomplish his dreams, frankly, you just weren’t positive that you’d ever be able to visually see it, albeit . . . here you are. it’s remarkable to witness.
it’s when you go to click on the post of a specific side rib piece when abruptly, the university’s inbuilt fire alarm bellows out. it makes your entire body lurch as giselle gasps herself awake.
“what the fuck?”
the continuous shriek of the siren bores uncomfortably into the drums of your ears and it’s when you’re slowly standing to gauge what was going on, comes the sound of doors opening and sleepy, discombobulated mumbling. it’s only right that the incessant, scarlet flashing of a firetruck’s emergency signal fulgurating in past your curtains follows suit.
“please exit the dorm! we need all students to exit the dorms as quick and calmly as possible!”
your fight or flight pummels into high gear as your RA begins to pound down the closed doors of your hall. you feel your heart commence to a familiar race with each second that passes. minutes are akin to hours while you and giselle hurry to pile and mound your suitcases and duffel bags with as much stuff as you’re able. with each bag you zip and each button you close, your lungs continuously compress and contract. they seem to fill with little to no air, no matter how deep of a breath you take. 
“just breathe, babe, yeah? i bet it’s something stupid. s-someone pressing their hair or something.”
you loathe it — it being the usual facade of your self control and composure slipping away with each gasping, shuddering breath you force yourself to take. air never seems to load your lungs, and you recognize that you’re gulping, an action you partake in with the intention of keeping away the agonizing feeling of your throat closing up each time this feeling happens.
“gotta call,” you’re mumbling as your hand knots within the fabric of giselle’s nightshirt as she leads you down the flight of stairs within the fire escape. “parents. my parents. my parents.” strangely enough, focusing more on your own words than the chaos of which surrounds you is enough to keep you from giving into your instincts of wanting to simply give up and lie down.
“see — look it,” giselle’s rubbing your shoulders when you both are standing on the curving curb outside. it’s cold tonight — a frigid forty degrees. all you’d wore to sleep was a tiny pair of white, cotton shorts and barely managed to slip into a hoodie before you left the room. you tremble. “jus’ breathe. in through your nose — hold it. mhm, good. now out, slow. see?’
it takes you a while to gather your previous poise and ease. with roaring blazes of crimson and blood orange dancing across the rooftop of your dormitory building, hysterical screams, and broken sobs lining the flumes of your ears, it’s not a question as to why. 
you suppose that it all gets a little bit blurry after that. time seems both bounded and limitless. students are quickly given the decision of choosing between leaving to stay with family who lived close by or be gathered inside of the library for the rest of the day to sleep . . . you’re tired. 
you’re so tired.
and somewhere near that inky, somber place enclosed by the bounds of your mind, you know that you shouldn’t do what you’re about to do . . . be that as it may, you cease yourself from traveling too far within that dangerous abyss of dubiousness as you click on a contact, place your phone to your ear, and wait. it rings . . and it rings . . and it rings until the line clicks as the person answers with a languid murmur of, “hello?”
swiftly clobbered with the feeling of ignominy, you swallow over the knot still encased within the channel of your throat prior to sniffling and uttering a quiet, “eren . . h-hi, ’s . . it’s ( ❤︎ ).”
susurration is heard. you assume he’s laying down within his bed, much like half of the world’s population is at this time, however, when he speaks once more, his voice is a bit more clear, as if he’d sat up to better hear you, “mm, yeah? hi, mama. wha’s goin’ on?”
your head swivels upon your shoulders in order for you to observe your surroundings — a few students sit on the curb with their bags, phones to their ears while they explained to their families or friends what was happening, some record the flames that now melt and char the windows of the dorm, the firemen working to put it out with long hoses, the reverberating sound of a helicopter’s blades spinning overhead and steady line of police cars pulling in through the iron gates.
unwittingly, the corners of your lips keel over as you slap a hoodie covered paw to your eyes to try and keep your tears at bay. it all overwhelms you in the worst of ways. you’re sure you’re being a crybaby, too sensitive, a wuss, nonetheless, you’re unable to help it, “i don’t k-know what to do, m-my dorms on fire, my parents live two hours out a-and i don’t have a car. ‘teo’s on the . . the other side of the country, i h-had no one else to call.” the speed of which your words fly out are akin to a mile a minute. eren’s only able to discern the words of dorm and fire and he finds himself moving before he knows it.
“ima be there.”
you hadn’t expected eren to actually come to your university and pick you up — not for a moment. 
you catch eye of a pristine, space grey bmw m4 cruising around the curved entryway as you sit upon the trunk of giselle’s kia, parked in the lot about ten feet away from the dorms and promptly . . . you know. pieces of gravel and tiny pebbles pop and crackle under the weight of four, blacked out rim tires as they slow to a halt beside her car and gently, you swipe your finger under your nose, watching the driver’s door swing open.
when he steps out, reminiscent of that night at the bar, your heart begins to pound. 
“awe, mama.”
he wears a pair of black sweats, thick black socks, and nike slides. the jacket he dons is a zip up. it’s clear he must have hurried on over due to the fact that he does not wear a shirt underneath it. it’s zipped to cover about three fourths of his torso and briskly, you let your eyes dance across the tight groove of his pecs and the dip of his collarbones as he rounds the front of the car. upon you standing onto your feet, his arms are opening wide to coax and envelop you into his embrace.
“mm, ‘m so sorry,” he mumbles, comfortingly beginning a leaden rock on your feet from side to side. “ ‘m sorry.”
his hugs are nice . . . they’re so nice.
he wraps his arms around the back of your neck and grabs hold of his own elbows with the opposite hands so that he can completely engulf you within his hold. it’s as though he’s trying to obscure you from the rest of the world and its horrors, savagery, and acerbity. the muscles of your body render as you melt into him. you stand about eight inches shorter than eren. your face is buried into his heart as you squeeze your arms tightly around his stature, noting that this is exactly what you need . . what you’ve been needing. 
“you’re okay, yeah?” he makes you look up at him — lets you go, tilts your head up by the chin. “y’all both okay?” his eyes quickly glance towards giselle and waits until the both of you nod.
“said it was the cause of a candle,” she explains, leaning an elbow on the trunk. “got knocked over, caught on a curtain — rest is history. nobody died, don’t worry.”
eren huffs a breath, rubbing a hand over his head that’s sheathed by his jacket’s hood. “my god. scared the fuck outta me man.”
“you didn’t,” you swallow and inhale a thin, shuddering breath. “you didn’t h-have to come pick me up, eren.”
he’s moving — stepping around you, grabbing your pink, hard cased, hello kitty printed suitcases and rolling them to his trunk. “was gonna ask to stay with me, yeah?” his voice still holds the tenors of sleep . . it makes his baritone much richer and gruff as opposed to usual.
“only for the night, eren. i-if that’d be okay—“
blithely, he’s lifting a shoulder them dropping it while hoisting the door of his trunk open and sliding one suitcase in at a time. “fuck that. when is the dorm being rebuilt?”
giselle hastily answers, “fire only reached the top three floors. heard the dean say it’s gonna take them at least a month or two.”
the trunk is closed with a slam, after which he’s giving you a small smirk while taking your duffel, “you’re stayin’ with me until it’s done then. easy commute, comfy bed . . i cook sometimes.”
room for discussion is withdrawn. his eyes teeter the stroke of sapphire underneath the golden rays of the rising sun and he fixes them on the deep chocolates of your own, letting you read the firm resolve that swims inside. he’s already made up his mind. “giselle, you . .” he juts a thumb out towards his car, letting her fill in the rest of his sentence, and giselle gives a small smile while shaking her head.
“thanks for the offer. my mom lives like forty minutes away, ‘m jus gonna stay with her ’til all this blows over.”
he lets the two of you say your goodbyes while settling your backpack and duffles in the backseat. “mm, be good, yeah?” your friend squeezes you tight with a kiss to the crown of your head. “go get some rest and call me when you wake up.”
when you’re settled within the passenger seat of eren’s car, you aren’t surprised to find that the interior is just as immaculately clean as the ex. blended scents of mint and black ice seem to be ingrained between the leather seating — it swathes and comforts you in the best way possible. “you okay?” he’s asking quietly, strong hand pushing the gear shift into drive as his other wraps around the bottom of the wheel. he’d already asked the question before, albeit . . he wants to be sure. 
sluggishly, your head goes to lean against the window. you appear so small to eren in that moment — swallowed by your hoodie, arms wrapped around yourself, and body curled. your mumble is meek as you retort, “ ‘m okay.”
aside from the low volume of brent faiyaz’s voice floating in through high definition speakers to enshroud the ambience, the drive is quiet. your eyes close, letting the push and pull of the car moving lull you into that narcotic state of consciousness and not. you find that eren comforts you. you don’t have to worry about much. your mind falls to a mute when he’s around — rushing thoughts of where you were going to go, you possibly needing to take a leave of absence, the never ending factors of stress are all temporarily forgotten.
it’s as though he takes over the reigns. he doesn’t allow you to carry your own bags, no, ‘he’s got it.’ asks you twice if you’d like something to eat from the bakery provided within his apartment’s lobby as he walks you through past security and a doorkeeper. he’s making sure you stay close beside him after you’re both exiting the elevator shaft on the tenth floor and striding across cranberry, gold trimmed carpet to a door whose gilded, etched plate above the doorbell reads the number 1018.
come the door opening and first impressions of eren’s home, you find that it’s clean . . similar to his car, it’s almost unnaturally so. 
you follow his motions once he kicks off his slides inside the foyer, neatly placing your little, pink, fur trimmed crocs beside a pair of ‘mocha’ jordan ones. the juxtaposition of the two of them next to one another feels strangely satisfying, as if that’s where they’re made to be. 
round with wonder, your eyes scan every inch of his place when you’re able to walk further inside soon after.
his living room is first you see when exiting the corridor. it’s massive — sits in front of his open spaced kitchen, completed with a long, wide ‘L’ shaped sofa the tone of cool, olive green. delicate beams of amber pour in through three, large, arch shaped windows. they draw attention to a fish tank, grand and roomy,  sitting atop of a full bookcase — swimming with curious guppies, neon tetras, and cherry garbs. you gravitate towards it, gasping and tenderly placing your finger upon the glass where a wading angelfish sways at a standstill. quietly, you coo, “. . you have little fishies.”
eren scoffs a small chuckle behind you as he places your bags beside the settee, “i do.”
though being of different breeds, all of them seem to exist in calm harmony. a tetra shoots itself in a firm, straight line to dive for a thatchet of moss to pick at and a guppy smoothly glides out of its way to make room.
“mm, yeah, these are my babies,” eren lowers his face a few inches away from yours to gaze fondly at them, too. “ ‘m too busy for a cat or dog right now. these were my next choice,” he points to a particularly bored looking cherry garb. “that’s jerry,” then that excited tertra. “rick. the angelfish you’re touchin’ is morty. summer and beth are over there . . . then you got, teddy . . bob . . and there goes gene.”
it takes a moment for you to familiarize yourself with the names. “wait,” a slow smile starts to spread across your lips come the realization. “seriously, eren?”
his eyes glint with boyish glee as he straightens back upright, “lemme show you to the room.”
his apartment has one, wide, lengthy corridor that breaks off into two more come the end of it. on the left are three doors, one slimmer than the other two leaving you to assume that it may be a closet. on the right are only two. he turns down that way and heads straight for the door ahead which he opens, stretching his arm and adjusting his body to allow you first entry. “you let me know if you need anything, yeah?”
it’s far bigger than you’d expected — completed with a king sized bed and sixty inch flat screen. the curtains above the arched window are left partially agape and pushing through it is a glistening beam, pouring warmth right onto the center of the mattress. it’s as though it beckons you to curl within it; oh, how you yearn to. you wrap your arms around your body once more, a comforting habit used to soothe and give you the confidence needed in order to turn back towards eren and meekly murmur, “. . i appreciate this. i’m sorry, again.”
“nah, nah. no,” as if instinctively, eren finds his fingers reaching for the curve of your waist, however before he can touch you, his thoughts catch up with his actions, and quickly, he shoves his hand inside of his jacket’s pocket. “no need to apologize. i don’t mind you bein’ here . . . okay?” he bends at the waist and lowers his head to catch your downward gaze and waits until you give a timid nod prior to him smiling. “i seriously don’t. so, don’t think you’re intrudin’ on me or anythin’. no more sorries.”
“. . no more sorries.”
what a sweet thing you are. eren constricts the doorknob within a sweating fist. “you gotta get some sleep.”
right.
he’s right. your exhaustion weighs down your eyelids — makes you stare at him with hazy debility waxed over normally wide, attentive irises. “mkay.” you turn on your heels and make your way for the bed, having to give a bit of a hop with one knee on top to fully pull yourself onto it. “gnight, eren.”
you’re precious. 
“gnight, mama.”
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ❤︎
minutes drag into hours — idle and lax.
with the golden disc of the sun hanging high within the blue skies, eren works. he sits inside of his room, at his desk, sketching designs, answering emails, things to keep his mind busy instead of worrying about you.
how frightened you had been. you shook in his arms when he’d hugged you — frail and weak. a girl like you shouldn’t be put into situations like that . . situations between life or death, it had clearly been too much for your dainty, pearl coated heart to take on. you’ve only just entered his life again, eren doesn’t think he’s ready to let you slip away any time soon.
when the sun starts its slow descend is when he pushes himself away from his desk to shower and begin the process of deciding what to eat for dinner. he’s lazy today, he will be honest. he wonders what you like . . .
when you were a little girl, you seemed to have an insane obsession with mexican food, more notably, burritos. warmed tortillas nearly swollen and bursting with barbacoa, pollo asado, rice, spicy salsa, sour cream, cheese, and avocado. he takes the chance of ordering one for you with a grilled chicken salad for himself. 
it’s while he’s snatching a bottle of water from his fridge when the doorbell buzzes. 
“. . fuckin’ ony.”
there’s no one else he knows that is able to bypass security, the doorman, and input the code needed for his apartment floor. no one else has the audacity, and upon him opening the door, not a soul stands on the other side, apart from onyankopon. “you missed me?” a bright, handsome smile is expanded across two, thick, double hued lips as he walks inside and kicks off his new balances.
“i didn’t,” eren closes and locks the door behind him, heading straight for the couch. quiet footsteps follow after ony tears off his coat and hangs it within the linen closet. “i really fuckin’ didn’t.”
“yeah, yeah. shut that shit up,” he plops down beside eren on a cushion, naturally letting his legs fall far apart to work himself into a comfortable position. “giants game is on. you cook?”
shaking his head, eren nibbles on the soft skin of his bottom lip, “ordered food.”
ony spares a look beside the door of which he entered from, catching eye of the crocs, radiant and pink — jibbitz of hearts, stars, bows, and hello kitty characters popped into almost every hole — sitting beside his shoes. they’re a blaring mar, starkly standing out against eren’s black, brown, and olive decor. “. . . who you got over here?”
“hm?—“
delicate footsteps are heard padding ony’s way. his head swivels on his shoulders . . and there you stand. 
you rub an eye with a fist, lips parted around a wide yawn, bonnet askew, hoodie practically sliding off of your shoulder. “oh,” sparkling eyes of fawn catch ony’s then you’re quickly pulling it back into place. “sorry.” they snap to eren’s and both men watch you take a hesitant step back, as if you were unsure you were allowed to come any closer. 
“no, no—“
“—you good, you good.”
without thinking, the two of them separate to leave the middle cushion open. “c’mere,” eren finds himself a bit glad to see you up. you’ve slept for nearly twelve hours, he’s missed your face. “you remember ony, yeah?”
you do.
your steps are light as you round the couch. 
ony . . .
he appears to be even more pretty than that night at the bar. similar to eren, he wears a pair of sweats, though his are grey. his legs are long, and still, underneath thick fleece, the firm muscle of his thighs bulge. “hi, ony,” you give a soft smile and take a slow seat between the two, folding your hands between the warm, plush skin of your own. 
“hey, ma’,” he licks his lips. “i heard about the fire at your school. that was your dorm?”
no longer inebriated, today, you can hear the faint traces of a southern accent peppering the deep modes of his voice. it drags out his tone, makes a few words string loosely together. goosebumps pebble the surface of your skin at the sound, “uh huh . . yeah, it was mine.” 
“damn, ‘m sorry,” similar to eren, ony seems big on eye contact. pools of warm brown gaze sympathetically into your own and it makes your tummy feel as though goo has replaced all of your organs. “you managed to grab all your stuff though, right?”
“mm, m-most of it,” you scratch at your knee, suddenly nervous. “left some stuff . . little things, i think i’ll be okay.”
eren’s speaking up beside you, “you call your family?”
“mhm,” you give a nod. “took them a second to remember you. they’re happy that you’re lettin’ me stay — told me to tell you that they’re hoping to see you again.”
he’s smiling, dimples deepening, “yeah?”
at the sight, you can’t help but smile, too. “mhm.”
you suppose that the conversation dies after that. you pull your legs up to your chest, wrap your arms around your knees, and tune into the television. truthfully, you know nothing about football — what you see happening are squads of men running back and forth along ice frosted grass, tackling one another over a little, spheroid ball. ony calls out an ‘interception,’ eren shoots out a firm ‘fumble’ and all you really hear is the sound of tv static. 
unconsciously, when one of them yells out a game play, you take the moment of deep voices overlapping one another to inhale a deep breath. 
they both smell nice . . utterly divine. eren teeters a line of cool bergamot and pine while ony smells warm . . similar to coconut and mahogany. the both of them are huge, too — statures looming over your own, even while you all sit. you’re aware that the tiny, juvenile crush you had on eren when you were a child is once again unfurling itself. similar to a wilted tulip, it blooms with the warmth of his smile, strengthens with the simple graze of his finger across yours, dazzles at the mere sight of him . . nonetheless, always a girl who’s wanted more, who’s learned to grab a handful when offered an open chance, you’re aware that a new seed has been planted when you spare timid glances at ony.
modestly, you assume that this all may be physical with them both — strictly surface level. you’re enamored with their features, you’re sure plenty would agree, because as much as you think you know eren, you don’t. he’s older now, he’s changed, he’s morphed, and he’s matured. 
you reckon that you have to take your time to learn about him again, about them both, come you gauging a more than friendly graze of ony’s arm slipping around eren’s waist once he stood and steps past you both to open the door at the sound of a knock. 
“hungry, mama?”
overhead, motion detected lighting fades in within the kitchen after eren grabs two, large plain paper bags from the hands of a cheery blonde, closes the door, and walks over to it. your nose twitches at the familiar scent of marinated meat, “. . . burritos?” 
your excitement is palpable. you quickly pad over, ony following, to watch him open the bag upon the island, prior to pulling out a foil wrapped cylinder, more or less the size of his bicep. “thank you so much.” 
you haven’t ate in over a day, your stomach gives an aggravated growl at the trivial realization. it’s endearing, watching how wide you have to open your little mouth to take a bite of it. “c’mere, you’re gonna dislocate your jaw,” ony hums, carefully taking the burrito from your hands to then turn and grab a knife from the block beside the sink. cute eagerness is hidden beneath a poorly made veil of self control as you watch him cut a diagonal line within the center of it, splitting the burrito into two. “hm.” he gives you one.
“thank you.” 
you’re biting into it quite easier now, sinking your teeth into tender meats and a warm, flour tortilla. “tastes good?” eren stands on the other side of the counter and spares a glance up at you through wispy strands of umber that falls into his eyes while drizzling a zest filled dressing over his salad. “want some of ours?”
you’re hesitant, glancing between it and ony’s quesadillas. 
“why you shy for?” the latter asks quietly, head tilting to follow your eyes when you look away. “hm.”
he holds it out and — candidly, you just can’t help it — you lean it to take a small bite . . humming a soft, “hmmm.” at the savory taste of carne asada. a fork of eren’s salad is next, you have to tilt yourself forward, palms flat on the island to take it and in doing so, a piece of fresh, crisp lettuce clings to your chin. casually, eren swipes it away, eyes fondly twinkling, “messy thing.” 
“both are yummy,” you comment before holding your burrito up to eren’s lips. “hm . . bite.”
“dietin’, mama. ‘s why i got a salad.”
you can’t help but pout at the rejection for your burrito. how bad it must feel. naturally, you turn it to ony. “bite.”
he does so with no hesitation and a huge smile of awe covers your face as you gasp, watching him take a more than generous chomp. “oh wow,” you’re giggling, taking in how slow he chews. 
eren scoffs, rolling his eyes, “fuckin’ greedy ass. you regret that now, hm?”
“shut the fuck up, jaeger,” he turns his attention to you. “shit’s torch. thank you, ma’.”
“mhm,” you take a seat upon a stool, languidly swinging your legs one at a time, letting a bout of silence hang over you all until ony utters a small revelation, “you’ve never told us your major.”
“ ‘s communications.”
both men drag out loud, exaggerated ‘ oh! ‘s, clearly impressed. silly. a sheet of warmth flourishes across your cheeks, beginning first at the rounded tip of your nose. “stop it,” you whine, simpering at their puerility. 
“what are you doin’ after?” eren murmurs around a mouthful of greens. “do you know?”
you give a feeble shrug, toying with the foil that surrounds your burrito, “somethin’ in marketing and advertising, most likely. or social media managing. i really like both.”
“for real?”
you give one, firm nod, “mhm.”
“does this mean you’re like,” eren tilts his head. “ig famous or some shit?”
his question makes you laugh. “no, no, ‘m not . . i mean, i have a decent amount — not as much as you.” you regret the words almost as soon as they tumble from the plump hills of your lips. eren had never given you his instagram — that, you all know. 
ony smiles, chewing slowly while sharing a knowing glance with him. eren discerns what shines within his irises, can practically hear him — ‘what i say.’ “so, now you know we got ourselves a superstar on our hands.”
rolling his eyes, eren swivels on his heels to walk towards the pantry, evidently trying to dodge the topic, “here we go with this shit. i’m not, ( ❤︎ ), don’t listen to the bullshit—“
“—nah, nah. she’s seen it. she knows. eren’s a fuckin’ diva.”
“you get on my fuckin’ nerves.”
you twist your stool from left to right, interest piqued. “oh yeah?”
ony gives you a casual wink, jutting his thumb eren’s way while shaking his head and muttering, “i jus like fuckin’ wit’ him.”
two wine glasses and a mug are sat upon the middle of the island, “we don’t need you drunk tonight,” eren utters, swiftly grabbing a bottle of lemonade from the fridge. he opens it then tips it against the mug, pouring til the liquid reaches the rim. “plus . .” he gives a bland shrug, eyebrows quirking. “you’re underaged.”
“you’re no fun.”
“mm, yeah, i know.”
while he works on unscrewing a tough cork off of a bottle of wine, you take another bite of your burrito, curiously eyeing the lines of ink tatted along ony’s hand. it’s a face . . . you aren’t sure of whose. it isn’t realistic, no, it resembles a michelangelo sculpture — completed with an expression seized over with melancholy, eyes void of irises and pupils, meticulously coiled hair, and a firm, lineal nose. “. . can i touch?” you reach for it, hesitatingly, noting ony’s slight surprise. 
“for sure.”
tenderly, you stroke your thumb along the face’s cheek, enamored by the realism of it all. it’d appeared that he had a true sculpture embedded within the skin of his hand. “whose face is this?” you softly inquire. “ ‘s a greek god, yeah?”
“mhm,” he curls his fingers into a fist and you watch the tendons and bones underneath his skin flex as it moves, seemingly changing expressions. “eros.”
“did eren do it?”
once more, ony nods, “shit’s clean, mm?”
you’re amazed, smiling while trying to make his fingers curl and relax to get the face to move once more, “i love it — so pretty.”
quietly, while working the cork off, eren admires the two of you. how quickly you are to open up to ony, more importantly, get ony to open up to you is . . oddly interesting. he’s known ony for nearly five years, having met him almost immediately after moving into the city. it had taken months for eren to get the guy to speak a full, two sentences to him, and yet, here you are . . . sweet, kind, soft spoken you. 
he’s sure you aren’t aware of the sheer amount of power you hold within your hands come later into the night. 
you fill the two of them in on your life, beginning the stories after eren and your big brother had graduated. you tell them about your high school days, how you participated in clubs, made the cheer squad, attended homecomings, and prom. you show them pictures of you with your friends, in your uniform, face a bit more cherubic and soft as opposed to now.
the more both him and ony learn, the more questions they have. yeah, they’re aware that you graduated valedictorian of your class, but who’s that guy that took you to prom? just a friend? oh. are you both still in contact? okay, nice. when did you meet giselle? you’re a bit of a shy girl, she approached you first, yeah? they knew it. you really like burritos, why? . . hm, okay. that’s a first. a big fan of sweets, too? caramels, chocolates, gummies, all that? wow.
following, there are the questions that they . . . merely keep to themselves — ones they’re sure you’d be too timid and bemused to answer. such as, why in the fucking world are you so pretty? how did you get to become so pretty — what made you so pretty? they have to know. why do you make eren’s heart feel as though it was three beats away from shooting out of his chest? why are you so easy to talk to? why does ony see you being in his life for years to come when he’s really only known you for a measly four hours?
when his phone begins to buzz, it catches the attention of all three of you.
“. . shit, i gotta go,” ony mumbles, holding it within his hand as he reads a text from the screen. he only has to say one word, or rather, the name ‘connie’ for eren to nod. 
you slump into the corner of where you sit curled upon the couch, disappointment oozing from your pores akin to water through the sides of a moorish jar. connie . . . a unisex name. could it be his girlfriend? the thought is fleeting. you watch him and eren stand, he moves in a bit of a haste — it has to be a significant other, surely. tenderly, you pout, watching him slip his feet into his shoes and shrug into his coat. “alright, ima hit you later,” you hear him tepidly relate to eren. before he leaves, he leans upon his left foot to take a more full look at you over the brunet’s shoulder. “you be good, alright?” he gives you a knowing nod, waiting until you return it. “mhm. you promise?”
within your arms is a throw pillow — you squeeze it tightly, firmly, willing those flapping, interminable butterflies swarming inside of your tummy away before giving a soft nod and biting down on a smile, “i promise, ony.”
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ❤︎
living with eren comes to be more cozy and pleasant than you’d initially thought.
you hadn’t expected him to be so welcoming, nevertheless, he is. each morning, around seven to eight am, you’re surprised to find him up, dressed, and ready to get the day started. he makes you breakfast everyday, too — meals range from cute pancakes in misshapen forms of stars, mickey mouse's head contour, and your favorite sanrio character, to a simple açaí bowl, toppled with granola, fresh fruits, and sweet honey. on days when you have no classes, you make sure to wake up an hour earlier and sit at the island to simply watch. 
there are also mornings where you’d exit the bedroom, disoriented and still blurry eyed to find ony standing right beside him — mixing batter in a large, sunken bowl, helping grill lean strips of steak within a sizzling skillet, and those are the days you find yourself much quiet than usual. and you’re sure eren notices. when the sun shines in through his large windows, finding only the two of you, you’re asking shy, curious questions about his occupation, his mom, his other friends ( you’ve managed to learn all of their names — mikasa, armin, sasha, and connie ). 
you suppose that the reason as to such is because you would rather much observe the two men when all three of you are together. 
eren’s . . . different with ony as opposed to how he is, or should you say was, with mateo. and incipiently, you’d thought of yourself as being too nosy, drawing up conclusions and speculations that weren’t even there, especially doing so without enough concrete substantiation. of course he’d be different with a friend as opposed to when he was sixteen in high school and now, a grown man. 
he and ony do not play video games as much as he and mateo did. they don’t go to parties, arcades, and hide your homework from you the way he and your brother used to, all in efforts to make you whine.
no, the two of them work out with one another. they watch games on the couch with one another, cook, eat, and on occasion, smoke with one another. and you’re positive that many other people with close friends do the same, nonetheless, it’s more in how the two of them do it. they don’t sit on opposite sides of the settee when smoking or watching a game, no, they are always close — close enough to have their thighs touch, their knees brush against each other’s as they leisurely sway in and out and the two of them swoop lower and lower within their bounden highs. while they cook together, ony’s hand is on eren’s slim waist, moving him out of the way to grab a small bottle of garlic seasoning instead of him simply asking eren to slide over or get it himself. when they smile at one another, something deeper wades within the four pools of jade and stone brown, you’re certain of it.
come week eight of you staying with eren, you aren’t sure how to feel.
you’re confused, emotions tied and bundled up into one, great, big ball of horrible mush. you like eren — that, is something that you are assured of and, admittedly, you hate that you do. you loathe that seven years of pining has only seemed to collectively intensify your feelings with each passing day. you’re a blushing mess after one glance from him is given, too shy to say more than a few sentences at a time. withal . . . onyankopon makes you feel something incapable of words.
granted, you’re more trusting due to him being eren’s closest friend of over five years, regardless, if the two of you were to meet on your own separate terms, you’re sure he’d plague your dreams the same way he does now.
tonight, you lay awake, staring at the smooth blades of a rotating ceiling fan above you, willing away the thoughts of them both. you have a quiz tomorrow, you’ve studied for it all week, and you’re supposed to be going out with giselle and lana again the day after. your itinerary for the next few days is booked with small tasks in between, such as a nail appointment, tutoring sessions, and more studying. you are a busy girl, albeit, you can’t sleep. whether due to your rushing thoughts or the faint, eerie sounds slipping in through underneath the crack of your closed door, you don’t know. 
tilting your head downwards, you stare at the doorknob for a moment — awaiting the moment it begins to leisurely twist to give you all the more reason to scream and barricade yourself in the bathroom, though, it never comes. the sounds draw out longer and the more frequent they grow, the more your curiosity blossoms, unfortunately. 
your hand slips underneath a pillow so that you’re able to grab hold of your phone and inspect the time — twelve o’ two. 
you suppose you might as well go and pursue the source of such — what if it’s eren? hurt or in pain? an intruder? naturally, you hope for the former. you’ve never even killed an ant on your own, you doubt you’d be able to take on a human being. 
you leave only a sliver of space ajar when you first open the door, peeking a single eye out into the gloomy hall. evidently, the sounds are more reverberant. you tremble like a lone leaf in the fall, trying your best to gauge the distance between yours and eren’s room with your eyes . . his door is only about four steps away. since you’ve been staying with him, he leaves it half opened, and from the inside of it, light pours into the corridor against a single wall. 
the tv is on.
the source of lighting is a good enough beacon of encouragement to have you give a quick squeal and scurry on over to the threshold, fist already raised in preparedness to knock upon his door . . yet, you stop.
or, in better words, you freeze.
you come to discover that the sounds are being emitted through the mouths of two people — of his and onyankopon’s.
you can’t see much — eren’s king sized bed’s headboard is positioned against the wall that faces the door some feet away from it. nonetheless, you can make out onyankopon. he lays atop of eren, barren from his usual crewnecks, jeans, and air forces. blue light glistens upon the dark brown of his skin — sinewy muscle rippling within the stoutness of it as one tatted arm flexes, rising up then down between their bodies. 
the both of them are mostly quiet — whispers and mumbles incomprehensible. it’s the volume of their baritones what you’d heard . . both of them terribly deep. they echo off of the four walls, rumble throughout eren’s apartment, drip down masonry and plaster, slow and thick. 
eren’s tone veers along the edge of a whine, when he utters, “fuck, ‘yan . . s-shit.”
your heart pounds within your chest come the realization of your suspicions being proven true. 
“c’mon, pa’, gimmie that nut,” ony mumbles, working his fist more swiftly, direly. “fuckin’ pretty ass.”
a horrible feeling overcomes the expanse of your chest. it’s one you’ve never experienced — comes across as though your heart was literally twisting and coiling to become one, small knot which climbs up into the wire of your throat to then sit there and inflate. briskly, you turn on the heels of your feet, tip toeing as quick as you can back to your room to then close and lock the door. 
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ❤︎
you wake up late.
of course you do.
after spending most of the night letting the lewd image of onyankopon and eren engross your mind, you manage to finally get some sleep around five am after a painful sobbing session. how stupid you are. the signs were all there. you can’t help but feel angry at yourself, reasons as to why still unclear. you wish you’d have just stayed in bed, ignored the sounds, forced yourself to go to sleep. in doing that, your eyes wouldn’t be almost swollen shut and head wouldn’t be pounding as though someone had been beating it with a hammer an hour straight. you’re aware that you would still be in the blind, you know, but . . at least your heart wouldn’t hurt as much.
hurrying out of the room, you’re making a straightaway to the front door. your uber is only two minutes away and you recognize that you are already missing the first five of your lecture. huffing quietly. you’re already mentally preparing yourself for the energy you’re going to need to plead your case to your professor in efforts to get a small extension—
  “—( ❤︎ )?”
don’t stop. don’t look.
“. . mm, yeah?”
your eyes are locked upon the door. you’re only about eight steps away, it isn’t much.
“hey, hey, hold on.”
onyankopon’s legs are longer than yours. he’s able to intercept your path without much of a hassle, standing right in front of the entry to the foyer. thoughtlessly, you take a step back when he makes himself known, sparing a glance up into his eyes. he’s smiling, though it goes a bit fraught at the edges when he views your appearance.
“. . what’s wrong?” he gently asks.
it isn’t the lack of blush, faux lashes, and glitter adorning your face that has him concerned, it’s the heavy bags underneath your eyes, the coating of puffiness that surrounds them. usually, you’re dressed in darling two piece sets, a cute skirt and top, hair pulled up into sweet pigtails or even pinned back with bows . . . today, you’re donning all black — leggings, hoodie, and ugg boots . . . box braids pulled back into a simple, low pony. something’s wrong. both he and eren can see.
“nothing.”
to make matters worse for you, eren wants to take a look for himself and it leaves the two of them in front of you, obstructing you from leaving. “what happened?” he asks. “not hungry today, mama?”
your nails dig into the fleshy part of your palm. you hear the pitch of his voice — more quiet, whimpering . . you hear ony’s — tender, sodden in raw infatuation. “no,” you shake your head. your next inhale is shaky and your eyes begin to prick with a familiar sting. “i g-gotta go. ‘m late. sorry.” quickly, you scuttle around them to hustle through the foyer, unlock the door, and part. 
for a moment, eren’s confused. the corners of his lips tug downwards as the door slams and he quickly replays the discussion over within his head, fighting to figure out where the obvious issue lied.
it doesn’t take much for ony to decipher why you’re acting so different today. understanding irons out the bewilderment that graces his face and while inhaling a slow breath, he starts his path back over to the kitchen, saying only one thing, “i think she saw us last night.”
eren’s quiet for a moment. 
nah . . . impossible.
. . . did you? 
rubbing a hand across his jaw, he pauses, letting the words marinate, “. . nah,” he murmurs. “nah. that’s crazy—“
“—she did.”
“no.”
“i’m telling you, bro,” onyankopon’s eyes are firm. “she did.”
before you went to bed last night, you and eren were fine. you ate dinner together, introduced him to one of your favorite shows — hello kitty and friends, he thinks it was called, you ate ice cream, then you both parted ways around ten to call it a night. 
he doesn’t think he was loud when leaving his room an hour later to let ony inside, doesn’t think neither of them made too much noise when that happened again — something that’s occurred only once before . . months before you found your way back inside of eren’s life for a second time.
then again, they did leave the door open.
“. . shit,” eren breathes out the word through a low groan, falling into a stool at the island beside him. “she didn’t seem mad, though. no?”
onyankopon shakes his head, “not mad . . more . . sad, i think.”
sad. that is true. your face did appear swollen and veneered over with gloom before you left. the two explanations as to why you’d be upset are evident — the first is simply you being bigoted. both he and onyankopon know that you aren’t that at all, not in any shape or form, so that’s ruled out immediately. eren’s only seen you cry once before today — when you were younger and found out your friends had gone to the movies and mall without you. you’re a sensitive girl; you cry when your feelings have been hurt and disregarded.
ony decides to let eren figure out the obvious second reasoning on his own. “i gotta head out,” he says, tipping his head back with a glass canted at his lips to swill down the rest of his orange juice. “. . ima catch you later.”
“for sure.”
both men hesitate. when ony stands, he’s hit with the sudden urge to lean in and press a delicate kiss against the warm pads of eren’s lips . . similar to the way he did less than seven hours ago, when they were both alone, sated and sweaty. however, at the last second, he withdraws — sucking in a deep inhale before nodding. “. . ‘m out.”
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ❤︎
funnily enough, you vex onyankopon’s thoughts for the rest of the day.
as an automotive designer, his head is almost always bustling with new ideas, deadlines, requisitions, and contracts. while he works — inspecting the lot where near almost fifteen cars are parked and being worked on throughout, clipboard in hand to document progress, connie’s headway in wrapping a mclaren 765lt within a pearlescent pink cast vinyl sparks the first of many thoughts of you.
your sweet face laden with dejection and woe was enough to hurt his heart — it sits within the core of his brain, flashing over and over again. in a way, onyankopon supposes that he feels . . guilty. he sees the way you gaze at eren when you think no one else is paying attention, how you giggle and blush and nearly purr when he mumbles an impulsive ‘good job, mama’ or ‘ ‘m proud of you.’ you’re absolutely smitten.
he guesses he should feel a bit jealous, too . . or maybe, possessive. 
his and eren’s relationship has no other word to describe it aside from ‘complicated.’ to the world, more specifically their other friends, they’re simply thick as thieves. no one really knows how bad ony longs to hear his voice after an especially long, taxing day. how content he feels when eren is simply in eyeline. how much his love for eren truly grows.
withal, he doesn’t feel the slightest bit upset that you may adore eren as much as he does. he’s easy to cherish. 
he feels a tender pity for you, at most. doubtlessly, he knows that you’re confused, sullen, heartbroken, and he finds it impossible to carry on his day, knowing you’re probably wishing you hadn’t got out of bed this morning. 
— hey. u out of class yet?
ony sends out the text while sitting in his car, reclined back comfortably in his seat, still parked in front of his lot. he’s honestly astounded when you reply back.
— got ten more minutes. why? — bout to come scoop u. drop lo.
it takes you nearly five minutes to go ahead and do so. you’re probably overthinking yourself into another batch of tears. ony sighs at the simple thought, “this lil girl, man.”
you’re a bit of a brat. he sees that now.
upon you first catching eye of his obsidian black lexus es 350 before he hops out of it, you remain seated atop of the bench you lounge on, arms folded, face unreadable. onyankopon has to step onto the curb and meet your eye while motioning to the passenger seat’s open door. you stay firm, “. . did eren send you? i could’ve jus’ took an uber again, i don’t mind—“
“—nah,” ony takes hold of one of the shoulder straps to your backpack to carry it. “he didn’t. c’mon.”
your stubbornness proves to be futile. after you climb in, he makes sure you buckle into your seatbelt prior to placing your backpack in the seat behind you. and as was foreseeable, you’re quiet while ony drives. you’re almost always quiet around him and he’ll be honest, it makes him feel a certain way when eren ends up telling him about a funny thing you said, how you’re possibly one of the most interesting people he’s ever known, and realizing you obviously don’t feel comfortable being that same way around him. 
onyankopon gets it though. he’s not much of a talker neither, and he’s aware of how frustrating it is to have someone continuously try to poke and prod to get you to. he’ll simply just have to wait for you, no matter how long it takes.
“. . ice cream?”
pulling into a parking space right in front of ‘ candy’s ice cream parlor ‘ surprises you and, more or less, onyankopon allowing you to get triple scoops does too. you embellish your favorite flavors with drizzles of chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and brownie bites, and with a smile, take a big spoonful. “ ’s yummy.”
only having bought a vanilla milkshake for himself, ony relaxes against the cushion of the side of the booth he sits in, modestly watching you take another spoonful and slip it between the glossed pillows of your lips. “you sure you don’t want nothin’ else?” 
shaking your head, you bore a nice hole within the mound of sweet cream, making sure to get a chunk of brownie right along side it, “thank you for this,” you hum. “i appreciate it, ony.” you really do. cliche, you know, heartbroken girl burying herself in ice cream and cheesy rom-coms, nonetheless, both has always been enough to soothe you after a particularly rancid day.
giving a slight shrug, onyankopon angles the straw at his lips to take a sip, “felt like you needed it,” the tone of his voice mellows when he continues, “y’seemed a lil’ . . upset earlier.”
he takes heed in how quickly you look away from him — your body shifts and your jaw tenses. “mm, yeah. it was over something . . something s-stupid.”
ony had wanted you to tell him on your own, but, when the open chance comes . . introduces itself so glaringly, well, he just can’t help it. artificial curiosity douses the bass of his voice as he asks, “ ‘cause of school?”
“. . . no, not really.”
“what? family?”
“nuh uh.”
silence overcomes the table. you refuse to elaborate. your eyes remain fixed on your ice cream as your ears tune into the glitzy pop song chiming through the parlor’s inbuilt ceiling speakers. you can’t tell him. you don’t want to engage in the topic for not a second longer. seconds quickly tick into a minute and when you pardon a glance up to look at ony, you find him already gazing back at you, relaxed smirk decorating the soft fullness of his lips. 
you watch him inhale a breath, irises casted downwards as he shifts and adjusts the carhartt beanie upon his head, “. . ima be honest, ma’, alright?” he licks his lips and you watch his eyes pull back up to meet yours before they grow heavy. the expression on his face is nothing short of enticing . . almost coy. coupled with his now more lazy posture — legs, as always, spread wide, one knee rocking leisurely from left to right . . you kind of hate how if affects you, how he affects you. “i think you’re beautiful.”
the curveball is thrown. subtly, your lips part in fair of your awe. 
and he shrugs, as if what he’d told you had been a simple fun fact. “i think you’re smart as shit. you’re kind. you’re sweet. i’d fuckin’ kill to get to know you more, on some real shit. i see you in my life for a long time and i know you confused,” his finger taps idly upon the table as he pauses for a moment. “. . i know you have questions . . about some shit . . — shit that i genuinely can’t explain.” perspicacity — it glimmers within the ponds of his eyes and within a fraction of a second, you know that he knows. “eren cares about you, a lot. more than i think either of you know.” and with that, he stands, signaling you to do the same. “lemme get you’on home.”
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ❤︎
eren discovers that you are ignoring him.
after onyankopon dropped you back off at his place, much to his surprise, you said your thanks, went into your room, and haven’t came back out. it drives him insane, you drive him insane. he finds himself pacing come the next morning, having realized you haven’t ate in over fourteen hours. “fuck,” he sighs, standing within the open door of his refrigerator. he sees the carton of strawberry yogurt cups seated on the bottom shelf, pink stanley tumbler,  squeezy pouches of fruit juice, assorted within those are onyankopon’s favorite pineapple sodas, alkaline water, and organic snack bars.
with each passing day, the more the two of you intertwine yourselves within his life. akin to thread, you both weave and weave your way around him and his heart, pulling tight, refusing to let go. 
“she’s fuckin’ mad at me,” he mutters. ony sits upon the couch — having slept over again, he’s dressed in only a pair of sweat shorts and socks. and it’s a hard thing for eren . . realizing that two of the most beautiful people he knows are horribly aware of the fact that they are beautiful. ony wastes no time constantly tearing off a shirt and you practically adore prancing around in your little dresses and skirts. the both of you stress him out.
“she not.”
“she fuckin’ is, man.”
smacking his lips, onyankopon stands, “she cool, eren. really . . jus’ give her some time, pa—“
neither men hear your footsteps until you’re nearing the kitchen. briskly, mouths are shut and attention is given.
you feel their eyes peering, scanning, watching you drop the duffel bag you carry near the entrance of the foyer so that you can place your hand upon a wall for balance and slip one foot inside of a calf length, fur covered boot. 
“. . . ( ❤︎ )—“
“—where are you going?”
they watch your foot fall and you stand there for a moment, back facing them. irritation pricks at the base of your neck with a million needles it seems. you fight to gather in your composure, fight to keep from not being too much of a bitch because, still, you’re aware that you’re in eren’s home. manners have been instilled within you since you could hold your own head upon your shoulders.
both eren and ony hear the peep of your gentle voice as you give a huff before turning around and forging a small smile, “out.”
ony inspects your outfit — it’s a knitted, pink, two piece set. the skirt is scarily short and the top is sleeveless and high necked with a cream colored bow threaded right atop the mounds of your full breasts. you tempt him, you really do. he’s tempted to bolt lock the door, tempted to go out and gauge out every person’s eyes who gives you a sheer glance. 
before he can ask, ‘where?’ eren’s beating him to it. no longer does desolation grace the handsome features of his face — his arms are folded, eyes intense and focused directly upon yours. it’s clear the two of them allocate similar thoughts.
you lift an arm then let it fall with a slap against the smooth, bare skin of your thighs. it’s a clear motion conveying ‘why do you care?’ “jus’ . . out. ‘m going to giselle’s to finish gettin’ ready. i’ll be back tomorrow—“
“—tomorrow?”
the tinkling chimes of your ringtone break through the conversation and, in all honesty, save you from being grilled. quickly, your other shoe is on and you’re turning back towards the door, “she’s already here, i’m leaving. bye.”
when it slams closed, onyankopon’s attention is focused directly back onto eren, awaiting the next move. he’s fully prepared to follow you out, to pull you back, right into his arms and never let go, only if eren shares those same thoughts, craves to do those same things. instead, he simply close his eyes and give a slight head shake, “. . . i need my fuckin’ bong.” you’re going to drive him up a fucking wall. 
he walks into his bedroom, practically snatches it from the cabinet of his nightstand, and packs the bowl until it almost overfills. “so, we jus’ gon let her—“
seated upon the settee with a true crime documentary paused on the television screen, the only sound heard echoing throughout the condo is the quick bubbling of smoke flowing through the bong’s water chamber as eren pulls a cloud of the drug into his lungs through his mouth. “—‘m not about to think abt that shit, ‘yan,” he intercepts, voice wavering on strained as he holds the smoke within his chest for a second longer. “i don’t care.”
he cares. he cares a whole fucking lot. what the fuck could you possibly have planned that you’re not going to make it home until tomorrow? why the fuck does he even care? he doesn’t know, can’t figure it out. “i don’t care.”
scoffing a “yeah, okay,” onyankopon rips the bong from his grasp to place his lips within the mouthpiece and inhale a long drag. “you repeated yourself.”
“. . .” furrowing his brows, eren lets his head fall against the back of the sofa. “what?”
“you said ‘i don’t care’ twice,” ony does the same. thick, silvered smoke pours from his mouth and coils into the air above their faces, dispersing into a haze of fumes. “lets me know that you care.”
“fuck you.”
“mmm.”
eren tries to get you out of his mind. he does — desperately. he smokes, he naps, wakes up, refreshes your instagram in hopes that you’d go on to habitually post your daily outfit checks, or perhaps a picture of one of your favorite snacks or meals, something to let him know that you were okay, albeit, nothing. he feels like he’s eighteen all over again with a first crush, longing, itching, wanting. what throws him off, and admittedly ony, too, is that around ten o clock, one more refresh of your page and suddenly the two of them are met with the symbol of a lock, and your followers and following list are greyed out and unable to be clicked upon.
ony stands up from the stool inside of the kitchen he was seated upon within his disbelief, “she put herself on private,” he utters, eyebrows fusing in close until a tiny divot rests between the space of them. “she fuckin’ removed us and privated her account, man.”
“this fuckin’ . .” eren’s next inhale is deep. he rubs at his jaw, beginning to pace. you’re clearly wanting to play, wanting to hide. you were aware that they were going to be watching and it’s clear now that they should have been one step ahead and knew that you would. akin to a joust of chess, eren finds the both of them now stuck, unable to move. his mind begins to conjure the things you could possibly be doing — flashes of your pretty smile, your sweet giggles, soft hands caressing the plane of someone’s skin, it flies in and damn near bludgeons his lungs out of his chest. “where the fuck could she be?” he’s muttering. you’re not much of a social girl. that’s more of giselle’s proficiency . . .
“fuckin’ giselle.”
it isn’t hard to find her instagram. she posts a shit ton more than you and the last clip of her story had been of her hand, clearly yours ( you’re the only girl they know who has cute bows and heart charms glued to your acrylics ), and two other girls’ holding pink tinted shot glasses with a caption of ‘ don’t think club bliss ready 4 us tbh. ‘ “club bliss,” onyankopon licks his lips, letting the name plummet within the depths of his mind to familiarize himself with it. “. . shit’s downtown, like thirty five minutes away. my nigga JC owns it.”
shrugging, eren’s already making his way down the hall to his bedroom, “c’mon. bout to shower and get dressed. not about to play with this girl no more.”
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ❤︎
you make sure you don’t drink too much tonight. you refuse to experience the daunting repercussions of another hangover. two shots and half a glass of a lemon drop are just enough for your usual introversion and self scrutiny to thaw. “just bend,” jasmine had managed to acquire the four of you a section of your own within the nightclub. you hadn’t known that she and giselle invited more people outside of you guys’ immediate group, nonetheless, about twelve of you in total adorn the divans of your section. “and do it. shake your ass.”
you surmise that this is what you need. the music is loud enough to fill the expanse of your brain from corner to corner, the club is dark enough for you to not worry about who’s looking, you don’t want to think about them. not for a second longer.
though it does still pain you to realize — they are not yours. in all probability, they never will be, and you force yourself to admit that it’s okay. you’ll be okay. 
throwing your plush butt in cadenced circles into the welcoming canvas of giselle’s crotch while she squealed and recorded it all on her phone was a step into the right direction, you think. 
and in all honesty, you don’t know when you realize the rhythmic, encouraging pats on your butt have transitioned into a firm grip around your waist — don’t know when those same hands slid up to your soft tummy to push you up and have your back connect to a rigid, firm chest. “mm,” you’re mewling and tilting your head rearward when the person bends to tuck their face within the graceful slope of your neck. “wha . .” 
“you showin’ out, ma.”
you smell his cologne, and the top you wear is completely backless — it allows you to feel the algid gold of his chain grazing the bare skin of your spine. “. . ony?” you have to turn and face him . . figure out whether it was really true.
he stands before you, dressed in a light blue crewneck over a plain white tee and grey, distressed, patchwork jeans. the colored beams of the club glint along the handsome features of his face — painting him green, red, yellow, then blue. underneath them all, you note how heavy his eyes are, the faint smell of weed that undertones the warm notes of his body wash and cologne. immediately, you’re pushing him away, uttering one word, “no.”
he doesn’t seem surprised by your response, not in the slightest. he’s reaching for you, tugging you back into him firmly, then veering you both on your feet in order to have your back hit the mirrored wall that separates your section from another. the broadness of his stature easily hinders the view of you from any keen, prying eyes. you don’t know if you appreciate it or not. “ony, move, what are you—” you’re already whining and pushing at his chest with feeble, little paws. “m-move, i don’t . . don’t wanna do this. lemme have fun.”
he gazes at you through the leaden lids of his eyes, dragging them across the plumpness of your glazed lips then back up into your own, catching notice of the surface of them. they’re misty — iced over. you’re tipsy . . definitely fucking tipsy. “how many times we gotta tell you to stop drinkin’,” he murmurs, stolidly grabbing your face within one of his hands — thumb on your cheek, four fingers on the other. “you’re nineteen. don’t get fucked up.”
you shove his hand away, pushing at it with the both of yours. “ ‘m grown, how m-many times do i have to tell the both of you that . . . stalker. f-fuckin’ stalker.”
how did they find you? you debated on blocking the both of their accounts from yours after removing them, however, doubled back in fear of you going too far. at this very moment, you regret it. you should have gone with your first mind. 
onyankopon has the gall to chuckle — to smile and gaze at you as if you were just a silly, little thing . . one who was just speaking to speak, has no real idea of what was going on or what she was saying. unable to help it, your lips lour into a firm pout and you hold eye contact when reaching a curled fist back then letting it slam against his pectoral. “move,” you hiss, brows linked. “if you don’t move, i swear—“
“—whatchu’ gon’ do?” swiftly, his hand curls around the column of your neck. 
your mouth clenches shut as you stand there, nevertheless, refusing to back down. the milieu surrounding you both appears to fall silent while your eyes remain rooted upon one another’s. the impassivity of his own is blatant. his eyebrows lift and he leans his face closer down to yours, “say it,” he softly demands. his fingers flex around your throat and on instinct, your head tilts further up so that you’re able to pull in an easier breath. “whatchu you gon’ do, mama?”
eren is never too far away from ony . . . you should have known that he’d reveal himself come enough time passing. your vision of the rest of the club is obstructed by yet another tall, stout figure. you no longer can see a thing, only them. 
“ugh!” you huff and push onyankopon’s hand from your neck, fighting to elbow your way through them, withal, unsurprised when one of the two holds you right where you are.
“you drunk?” eren’s tipping your chin up and while at the same instant you ask, “so what?” onyankopon’s muttering a calm, “she’s tipsy.”
so, you’re tipsy and shaking ass — eren inhales a deep breath and, surprisingly, steps aside after a few seconds, opening a gape wide enough to allow you to pass through. your skepticism is evident, nonetheless, you push your way out and immediately grab hold of an oblivious, dancing giselle’s hand to tug her in the direction of the dance floor. he watches you until your body vanishes within a sea of others. “let her go,” he’s mumbling to onyankopon, falling down onto the sofa and making himself comfortable. “let’er do whatever the fuck she wants. she’s comin’ back home tonight, though,” tipping a shot back, he then shrugs while gulping it down. “cryin’ or not.”
onyankopon can’t help it though.
with each glimpse of you on the dance floor he catches, he’s lured in — enticed by the glossy pout of your lips before they stretch into a captivating smile, the sway of your curled, butt length, knotless braids, pinned back with twinkling clips studded with gems, your ass . . . fat, perky, and round — seemingly fighting to spill out of another signature, tiny skirt as you rolled it within a crotch . . . a crotch not covered by another skirt or dress your friends wear, but instead jeans . .
suddenly concentrating, his head slowly leans in forward and he only has to see the fine dusting of hair along a face of the person holding onto your waist before he’s walking over. 
“fuck no,” he’s scoffing and with enough ease to rival snatching candy from a gluttonous child, he’s pulling you into his chest, calmly staring, waiting for the man to make a move, albeit, when all he gets is two hands being pulled up to shoulders as a form of yield, his focus is placed directly on you.
you’re still humming and swaying to the lyrics of veeze’s song, gomd, regards only focused on yourself. you fit comfortably within his arms, plush and warm. when he squeezes his arms around you, your body softens up, as if it was on purely instinct. “ony,” you’re groaning when he leans down to kiss the pane of your shoulder — once more, his scent and stature being the dead giveaway. “no, no,” he’s uttering into your ear, tightening his hold on you once more when you attempt to squirm away. “can let you get away with a lot of shit, ( ❤︎ ), but dancin’ on another nigga’s a no go.”
you’re turning to face him when arrives the confession, “yeah?” you can’t help it. he feels good, looks even better with a plate of gold molded around the bottom row of his teeth. your hands reach for his arms, then you tug them upwards so that they remain on the sweet curve of your hips, silently telling him to keep them there. “ ‘m single though, no?”
onyankopon appreciates the difference between you sober and not. he supposes he gets a closer insight on what’s going on in your little brain through her. you don’t hesitate on your words and shy away in that precious manner he’s gotten used to. “. . . you can call it that.” your hips start to rock, a rhythmic sway from left to right and he follows, pushing your chest closer into his own.
“we’re all single, right?” 
when he gazes into your eyes, he sees it . . . you know the truth, you’re awaiting the moment to catch if he lies. licking his lips, onyankopon hesitates, “. . somewhat.”
your head tilts, “wha’does that mean?”
“means shit is complicated.”
“between who?”
his head tilts back as he bellows out an attractive laugh, unable to reign it back in when it falls out. you acting as though you are oblivious is amusing. “( ❤︎ ),” he dips his head into your neck again, keeping it there. you feel the tepid gusts of his breath blowing over that specific area of it, the one that tickles and makes your core heat all the while, when he murmurs, “mama, why you makin’ this so difficult, mm?”
you shove him away.
ony thinks you’re going to pout, huff, scream, however, when he sees the brewing of dew that begins to brim your eyes, his own soften. you’re turning before he can say another word, slipping through the crowd with little ‘pardon me’s and ‘sorry’s so that you can enter the section once more, grab your bag from lana’s hand after saying a quick goodbye and telling her that you’ll text, before you’re making your way towards the exit.
both eren and ony are hot on your heels. “hold on, hold on, hold on.”
the air outside is crisp. when a gust of it flies over your heated body as you push through the doors, it dries your eyes, and sobers you quickly. outside of the building, the world is much quieter. it soothes your racing brain, and you’re ignoring the two of them, steps firm and quick as you open your phone, click on uber and start the process of requesting a ride. “can you chill?” eren’s voice rocks upon the thin line of frustration and despair as he stops himself in front of you, stepping from side to side as do you to keep you from taking another. “jus’ . . stop for a minute, alright?”
“eren, just let me leave,” you blub out through a defeated whine. “can i go?”
a muscle within his jaw ticks, “not until we have a conversation, no.”
“what is there to talk about?”
a pulsing silence follows your words. tension is thick — it extends and swells until the pressure of it broadens into eren’s chest and has him quietly saying, “one conversation then we’ll let you leave,” he mumbles. “conversation out of the fucking public, yeah?”
your arms fold and you look away from the both of them as you mull it over. you’re cold, goosebumps send the hairs of your skin standing upright, has one of your ankles crossing over the other in a poor attempt to warm your legs, and your uber is said to be over twenty minutes away. “okay,” you grumble. “. . ‘m cold.”
“i wonder why,” onyankopon hums, leading you all to the direction of his car that’s parked on the corner. he opens the door to the backseat, allowing you to climb in first before he slips into the driver’s and eren in the passenger. truthfully, you’re nervous. you feel as though you have so much to say, and still, so little. so much to profess, yet it all lies at the back of your throat, viscous and curdled. 
when seated upon the couch within eren’s home, you watch him and ony go about kicking off their shoes and turning on a few lights. eren adjusts the thermometer to heat the apartment up for a moment during which, onyankopon grabs one of your favorite, soft baked, strawberry granola bars from inside of the pantry — a mere snack for you to nibble and sober up on. “hm,” he hands it to you over the back of the couch you currently lay cuddled up on underneath a chunky knitted throw blanket. “want water, too?”
shaking your head, you begin to unwrap it with nimble fingers, “. . thank you.”
the words sit at the pit of your stomach and sweet strawberry and fresh grain sticks uncomfortably to the roof of your mouth, making you stroke your tongue against the roof of it . . back and forth, back and forth. “i s-saw . . both . . you two . . c-couple nights ago,” they are blatted out before you can even attempt to trawl them back in. oddly, you feel ashamed when you find your admission no longer enclosed within the vault of your brain, however, floating within the space the three of you find yourselves in. “wasn’t spyin’ or anything, thought it was an intruder, uhm . .” those yucky feelings are returning. the ones that make you feel as though you were pathetic, revolting, stupid. “i didn’t want . . i don’t — . . i h-hope you both aren’t upset, i jus’ . . i know i should’ve jus’ stayed in bed and i shouldn’t have felt, mm, be so bothered—“
“ma, chill,” eren’s muttering, prior to you finding yourself being maneuvered, pulled in close so that your body is practically molded into the side of his. a soft kiss is sown against the crown of your head as you sniffle and wall your face away with your small hands, refusing to look at them. “we’re not upset with you. fuck no.”
mewling, you shake your head, thumbing with a ring on his finger. your own tremble with the intensity of too many emotions boiling inside of you, “you are, jus’ say it—“
their voices are unified when they say, “we’re not.”
your eyes flit up after a while, slow and warily. you seem to calculate their emotions, not making a move to say another word until one of them does. “there’s no need for apologies,” ony plainly says. “not from you, at least. you good, ight? we’re sorry . . you had to fuckin’ find out like that.”
shaking your head, it’s clear you feel as though their apology is unwarranted, “no. don’t have’ta say sorry to me. i s-should’ve known you guys were in a relationship—“
eren’s slowly widening smile and onyankopon’s scoff of a chuckle is enough reaction for you to pause and await clarification. were they laughing because they didn’t take you as someone so dumb and shallow that it took you so long to realize? . . . god, with each passing second you seem to feel worse and worse. 
you’re curling away — slowly working yourself back onto the opposite cushion, however, eren’s arm is pulling you back against him, “me and o’ are . .” he hesitates, clenching his jaw, fighting to place what the two of them do into comprehensible terms. 
“we fuck sometimes.”
again you sniffle, waiting for one of them to provide more context, “. . platonically?”
they stumble once more, until eren answers, “. . not really.”
“. . . so feelings are involved?—“
“—this is why i said this shit is complicated, ma,” onyankopon cuts in. “he’s mine, i’m his.” the two of them are sure that feelings got involved within their friendship close to a year and a half ago now. what used to be amicable, nonsexual hang outs progressed into something more. it’d built over the course of fifteen months until nearly three ago, when it all reached a zenith, onyankopon’s cock ended up buried inside of the grooved, pulsating channel of eren’s throat after a drunken night at a kickback thrown by mikasa.
you don’t pretend to understand. “mmm.” you realize there’s no point. they’re together, and though your feelings may feel as though they’ve been pummeled and bashed into piteous  threads of nothing, you know that this will only be a fleeting emotion. you’re fully prepared to cry until your heart’s content and work on bouncing back to your old self within a few weeks’ time, already rolling over which rom com and ice cream flavor you think will make you feel somewhat better tonight in your head when abruptly, you feel the comforting stroke of eren’s thumb stroking over the bare skin of your hip. “uhm,” suddenly, he seems apprehensive — glistening emeralds of jade snap back and forth between yours, quiet words stuck within his throat. “can i — . . i have to do somethin’ . .” he mumbles. “alright?”
“okay, yeah,” you softly reply. “what is it?” you’re prepared to stand and move out of his way, thinking he wants you to grab the remote or something.
despite that, he shakes his head and keeps you still, “jus’ close your eyes.”
after a few moments, you timidly comply. there’s the sound of shifts, prior to the sensation of something being dangerously close to your own face that only has your body tensing with fear as time ticks on and realizing it has no plans to move . . seconds feel more akin to minutes as you await whatever he has planned, “. . . eren wha—“
you’ve been kissed before.
once . . . the night of your prom by your date. it’d been a sloppy thing — he’d blurted out that he’d been crushing on you since the beginning of junior year . . . saw you in your cheer uniform at the football team’s first homecoming game and wanted to make you his since. it had been an experience you continue to describe with one word, dreadful. tongue got involved far too quickly than you’d expected, his nails dug too tight into the cushion of your waist and it made you wince and pull away before the kiss progressed passed a mere six seconds. all in all . . . traumatizing.
initially, eren kisses you softly. if you could manage to put it into detail and explain it to someone without your brain short circuiting halfway through, it’s almost as though he tests the waters . . . gives you sometime to pull away, to push him away if it hadn’t been what you expected or wanted. 
what he doesn’t know is that you’ve wanted this since the night you saw him for the first time again, since you caught eye of him seated at the bar, since he pulled you into his arms, wrapped his arms around you tight, invited you into his home, revealed himself to be just as sweet, gentlemanly, thoughtful, and kind as before. since you’ve begun to relearn one another — seen him for the first time with a familiar retainer on come the both of you bumping into one another at two am, yearning for a glass of cold water. since accompanying him to a session at his tattoo shop, watching him hone in and lose himself within his exquisite craft . . . yeah, he doesn’t know any of this.
his surprise is palpable when you give in, melting like sweet vapor within the sun, and taking hold of the shoulders of his shirt to pull him closer. 
eren feels the trembling breaths you exhale. what were once shy caresses soon inch into desperate grips as you fist the fabric of his tee within your hands and tug him even closer. its as though you can’t get enough. his lips are soft . . smooth. he smells faintly of weed, however, tastes as sweet as toffee. you all but whine when he pulls away, just barely deciphering his hand weakly ringed around the pillar of your neck. 
god, you’re the picture of pure debauchery.
eren hadn’t kissed you for longer than twelve seconds, he’s sure, and yet, your lipgloss is completely smudged, lips no longer glistening with the cosmetic, but of his saliva. quickly, your eyes flash with emotions . . nevertheless of you trying to hold them in, your irises have always been expressive — constantly conveying how you feel before your mouth does. he sees how long it takes for your actions to catch up with your brain, then you’re somewhat frowning, as if you were confused on the reason of why he’d stopped, then you are shying away again upon taking heed of your current predicament.
“uhm.” quietly, you release a breath.
unable to help it, eren smirks, “that was okay, right?” he mutters, eyes flicking between your own and your lips. 
was more than okay. “uh huh.”
you rub them together, finding your eyes drifting. they slide from eren’s to the thick, double hued plushness of onyankopon’s — both men notice. “. . don’t do that,” ony chuckles, eyes closed as he rubs at the bridge of his nose with two of his knuckles. “chill, aight?”
it’s only fair that you deserve a taste of him, too. maybe you’re being greedy . . .
“you both aren’t gonna let me leave, are you?” delicately, you ask the question, falling back against the comfortable cushions of the sofa. in reality, the idea of leaving and heading back to lana’s is now buried within the furthest margin of your mind. you watch the two of them share a look before onyankopon shrugs, “. . we’re not gonna keep you here if you don’t wanna be . . we’d prefer it,” he begins to smile. “if you stayed though.”
you hum a soft, “mhmmm,” with a giggle, pushing your cold, little toes underneath eren’s thigh. “. . so, what are we gonna do now?”
the three of you are quiet for a moment, letting the question steep within the matter of your brains. there’s plenty of things you all are able to do. sleep, is one. watch a movie, bake some cookies, dive more into detail about the ever-growing feelings the three of you share for one another that seem to weave tighter and tighter into a jumbled mess with each passing day — lots of things. “watch a movie in my room,” eren offers while leaning his head against ony’s arm that lays outstretched along the back of the couch. “if you want, mama, ’s up to you.”
immediately, you nod. you simply just want to be around them, everything else is trivial. “can we watch somethin’ scary?”
“somethin’ scary?” you’re all beginning to stand. onyankopon reaches his arms back to give a nice stretch and you allow yourself to take only one peek at the slip of skin and dusting of hair that traces down his belly button and disappears within his jeans. “y’sure you can handle somethin’ scary, pretty girl?”
“mhm!” you’re nodding and smiling over your bottom lip that your top row of teeth nibbles into. “ ‘m a big girl, ony.”
“mm, yeah?” he’s tossing his arm over your shoulder, leading you down the hall. “lets see about that then.”
the movie eren chooses is thirteen ghosts. he explained to you that it’s a bit old, figures it’s something that you should be able to handle. before you all climb into his bed, you hesitate, unsure of where to lay — whether beside eren or ony. “hm,” they discern the dilemma all over your face and rub at the opened space between them. 
the movie begins and you examine how the three of you all sit up — legs outstretched, postures aligned with the help of eren’s firm pillows. you’re not sure of exactly who lays down first, nonetheless, the other two follow and about halfway into the film, you’re curled up with your back towards eren, front facing onyankopon. you’ve been trying to focus for the past forty five minutes, fighting to understand the plot, names of characters, and what’s going on, however, your brain is engrossed in all things ony and eren, eren and ony. 
you feel as though you’re breathing too loud, moving too much, obviously not paying attention — you can already hear giselle demanding you to get out of your head, to relax, and stop thinking. 
it’s hard not to, though. 
ony lays upon his back . . an arm folded behind his head, the other draped across his stomach. he took off his crewneck — leaves him dressed in a plain white tee, jeans, and his socks. your eyes fix upon the large mitten of his hand . . his trimmed fingernails, the web of veins that decorate the back of it neath another beautiful tattoo of a moth. 
you can’t help it . . the tips of your acrylics start at his elbow before they’re trailing, crawling higher and higher — languid and idle. he doesn’t move or push you away when you coyly pause with your hand above his own. he lets you touch him, trace his tattoo with your fingers, press the pad of one against the tendon in his wrist. “sorry,” you soon murmur.
he looks down at you, “hm? . . what for?”
your eyes remained fixed upon your own fingers, letting them hook beneath his. “. . didn’t ask for permission . . to touch.”
you’re really something fucking else.
“you good,” he softly replies. “don’t trip.”
ony watches your head move — you pull it up to look at him and your eyes shift, down to his lips again. he doesn’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, or if you are. what he does know is that he needs you to stop . . needs you to turn yourself back forward and watch the movie, quietly trace his tattoos, close your eyes and sleep . . . anything to give him a peace of mind. nevertheless, you don’t do either. you huff a bratty, little sigh out through your nose and squeeze at one of his fingers with all of yours.
“ony.”
it’s sudden when he moves, when he lifts up on an elbow and presses you flat on your back so that there’s some inches of space separating you both again, “don’t start nothin’ you not gon’ be able to finish . . alright?” softly, he demands an answer from you, awaiting a head nod, a shake, something. the only thing he gets is just another glance of your eyes carting down to his lips, watching them shape around his words, the slat of gold still encasing the base of his teeth. it’s as if you were dazed — brain full of fluff, his words enter one ear and quickly exit out of the other.
chuckling quietly out of disbelief, onyankopon looks over at eren, “she think i’m playing, huh?”
the other man follows suit, lifting up on an elbow to look down at you with a soft smile, “. . . you want ‘yan to kiss you, mama?”
you squirm, mumbling a small, “yeah.”
“okay,” he calmly croons. “jus’ one kiss?”
“only one.”
you’re so sweet . . so pretty. onyankopon decides to indulge you — just this once. you feel his heavy hand on your thigh, wrapped around it, before he suddenly yanks you to tug you down a little bit lower. there we go. he captures your face between that comfortable cusp of his index finger and thumb, the thenar web, admiring you for a moment through weighty eyelids. you really want this . . . he’s bemused. you want him. truth be told, onyankopon had some doubts about the two of you. he thought you had your eyes sought out for eren, solely eren. 
however, when he kisses you . . he feels how much you’ve been wanting this, too. your arms envelop around the back of his neck to draw him nearer. you let him lead, lips smoothly trailing after his own, and then you try to mimic what your prom date had done to you to coax your mouth to open, only . . more delicately. instead of using teeth, you shyly skim the tip of your tongue against the parted seam of onyankopon’s lips, blossoming when he lets you in . . and the first glide of his tongue amongst yours has a sound escaping from the pit of your chest — something stifled and small. a weak whimper.
it only seems to light a fuel within ony — when your mouth opens wider, his does, too. it’s consuming, the way that he kisses, in a strangely good way. he pulls away after some time and allows you to inhale a shallow breath before your lips are being tapped with soft, repeated pecks, then he’s returning back for more . . for a fiercer taste, a longer one.
then, unexpectedly, he’s gone. his touch, his lips, the taste of him . . it all vanishes within a single moment.
you’re left slightly panting, blinking your eyes up at the high ceiling above you, letting yourself relish in the still tingling sensation that lingers upon the gentle pads of your lips. “we all good now?” ony forces himself to keep his hands where they should be, to himself. 
no, you want to say. no, you’re not all good.
the light cotton of your underwear feels warmer than usual . . sticky. when you spread your knees apart an inch, the tepid air of the room flies in between your thighs and feels nippy. 
quietly, eren scans you . . . sliding his eyes down from your heaving breasts, your plush tummy, to your thighs that now are spread the tiniest bit open. his fingers twitch in your direction, though he stops himself, “you feel okay?”
surprisingly, your answer is honest. you whine out a small, “no,” and they both watch your hands grasp the bottom hem of your skirt. you tug it down, and yet your thighs rub against one another, laggard and incessant. you smell them, you feel them, you’re between them and still, nothing is enough. what was once just wet and uncomfortable starts to plain out ache . . it’s painful, honestly. “hurts,” you mumble. your fingers slide up your thighs — with it, they bring your skirt. 
“no, no, nah,” eren’s chuckling, stopping you midway. “you don’t want this, baby.”
you don’t . . . you’re not ready for the both of them, yet. he doesn’t think you’ll ever be.
surprisingly, you’re whining, “yes, i do,” then grabbing his wrist, tugging it between your thighs. “ ‘m a big girl, eren . . really.”
you have your knees enveloped around his hand. your eyes are wide, glistening, and full of so much trust. you are a big girl, now . . eren has to remember that. you aren’t just mateo’s baby sister anymore — all this time, he thinks that’s what’s been hindering himself from proceeding with you any further. you are everything he wants, everything he’ll ever need. and still, he coasts his attention over to onyankopon, awaiting his decision. you both are. if he decides to wait . . then that’s what you’ll all do — wait.
“you sure?” ony’s voice is deep, quiet.
“mhm.”
and so, you’ll continue.
for the sake of fulfilling his own selfish desires, eren leans down and captures your lips for another breathtaking kiss. predictably, your taste careens the line of sweet and tart . . similar to a lush fruit torte. you hook him in the damndest of ways — the way you taste, the way you breathe, the way you simply exist . . . 
you tremble underneath the first sweep of someone’s hand across your breast. the top you wear is ribbed and cropped — thin straps are pieces of pink ribbon that you had to manually tie yourself to fit your frame more comfortably. because of it being so tight and showing a large expanse of your back, you had to go without a bra and pasties. your nipples harden into tiny peaks of steel, bold and plain, pushing against the material. fondly, onyankopon’s thumb glides across one. he pushes down, pinches, rolls it between his fingers. and you hiccup the sweetest, little sounds, perking your back up with a curve in your spine, “we can take this off?” gently, he asks the question, watching you rapidly nod your head, already lifting your arms.
your voice is soft, whiny, “mhm. yes, please.”
he’s smiling. “alright, ma’.”
your braids are long, you have to sit up in efforts to keep your shirt from snagging on them when he hoists it above your head. afterwards, it’s tossed somewhere, already long forgotten. 
suddenly, you’re nervous again . . laying back down, arms instinctively molding into a fold to shield yourself away from two pairs of eyes — brooding and ardent. “why’re you shy now?” eren’s asking, handsome grin splitting his lips to reveal his teeth. 
you nibble on your lip, feeling a stretch of warmth blossom across your nose, “. . c-cause you both make m’nervous.”
“we make you nervous?” onyankopon finds the admission cute. 
“yeah,” you sigh, deciding to let your arms carefully fall. there’s no point in hiding, you think, and what they’re met with is a pair of plumb, round tits . . dotted here and there with precious beauty marks along an expanse of pretty, brown skin. 
“don’t be,” eren murmurs, reaching out to cup one within the crater of his hand. “want us to make you feel good, right?”
his tongue suddenly scouring across the soft puffiness of your areola to beckon the sensitive bud of your nipple into his mouth wrings a unique gasp out of you — a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before. it’s something weak . . wringed and broken. he pulls off with a wet pucker and a blasé ‘hmm,’ taking a moment to gaze at your chest for a moment as if he were trying to gauge if he liked what he did or not. “felt good?”
you hiccup a quiet, honest, “y-yeah.”
onyankopon steals another kiss when eren tips his head down for one more taste. he swallows every gasp, whimper — clutches at the doughy skin of your hip to keep you from squirming too much. “pretty ass,” he murmurs. “how long you been wantin’ this? be honest.”
you cover your face with an arm, “s-since — ah, eren . .” you mewl and slide your hand through the soft locks of his hair, tugging at his nape when he pulls off of your tit again with a loud pop. “s-since t-that day . . in the kitchen . . . when you came over and h-helped cook breakfast for the first time.”
the two of them had been shirtless that morning — dressed only in sweats after a lengthy gym session and taking a shower. the scene was somewhat domestic, you think, something out of a film. both of them moving about the kitchen, opening and closing the fridge and cabinets as you sat at the island and tried to keep your admiration of their beautiful, sculpted torsos to a minimum by burying yourself within your phone. 
“that long, mm?”
“c-couldn’t help it,” you hook your fingers within the neckline of ony’s shirt, tracing a finger across the gold, cuban link he wears. “you both are so pretty . . . ’s not fair.”
how anyone could be around the two of them and not catch feelings is a mystery in and of itself. it was easy to fall for eren, and succumbing to the ones you felt for onyankopon was, too — just as effortlessly as breathing. your lips are pouted when you grab at his hand, dragging it down your tummy, “wan’ you both . . right here.” both watch how beautifully you melt when onyankopon’s fingers find the precious bud of your clit embellished by the sodden cotton of your underwear. 
“shit,” eren drags out the word slow, viewing how easily your thighs part open to give them an open image of what lies in between them — your shit’s fat. it’s clothed behind a pink thong, traced with white lace and a darling, threaded rose sits within the middle of the top hemming. the chubby lips of your pussy swallows the material, tiny hole spasms around it, dampening the color of bubblegum into a lewd rouge. 
inquisitively, one of eren’s fingers nudges at the hollow delve. he feels your walls clench before a ripple of wetness is breaking through the fibers and leaking down to the cleave of your ass. ony breathes out a gentle curse, beginning a slow tempo while tracing neat, little circles on your clit, “right here, mama?” his arm rests above your head, and with that same hand, he strokes his thumb comfortingly along your temple. your hips shift, rocking up into their touches, pulling away from them, you can’t seem to make up your mind. 
your voice is rising in pitch, “y-yes . . please.”
“whatchu want then?” he’s asking. “we’ll give it to you, you know that right?”
will they? they’re disappointed when you turn your face away and toss your wrist across your mouth, clearly refusing to say. it’s cute though, eren supposes. it’s cute that you’re timid enough to not voice what it’s clear you want, nonetheless, comfortable with their fingers rubbing on your pussy. “can we take these off?” he stows a kiss upon another sweet mole, peeks out from right above the top of your underwear trimming, and waits until you nod before the four of his fingers on both hands are hooking into the sides of them and your pathetic excuse for a skirt, and he’s pulling them down. 
it’s a mess . . . you’re a mess.
webs of slick cling onto the seat of your panties, breaking off into feeble strings when he tugs the material of them down far enough. when snapped away, they gather with the rest of the silken sap that glosses your lips. it’s only right that you reach a hand down to take a feel of and assess the damage, and you don’t seem all that surprised to hear the faint squishing sound of your fingers slipping and sliding between them. you whimper, “ ‘m sorry . .” you’re frowning, genuinely upset. “ ‘m makin’ a mess.”
you’re something else — genuinely. 
“don’t apologize . . do not fuckin’ apologize, alright?” eren’s whispering, eyes transfixed on the oeuvre that is your pussy. “you ever touch yourself, baby?”
you mewl, “only a few times.”
“yeah?” he breathes, pushing one of your legs up higher in order for the light of the television to illuminate your core. “show us . . show us how you make yourself feel good.”
you’re starting to whine again, “eren.” you’re embarrassed — always one intimidated of toys, you’ve relied simply on your fingers for the last year or so since becoming acquainted with your body. it’s rare when you actually even push one inside. your nails click against each other when you slide two of them, ring and middle, up to your clit and begin to stroke slow, sloppy circles atop it. “l-like that,” delicately, you sigh, letting your muscles melt, thighs fall further apart. 
onyankopon parts them even wider, needing to see the exact moment when your little hole clenches up again and releases another wave of slick, adding onto the small puddle that’s seeping through the soft, black fleece of eren’s comforter underneath the cheeks of your ass. his dick strains against the cool metal of his zipper, he can hear nothing but your dear sniffles and moans through the rushing blood of his ears . . . aside from eren, he’s never desired a person as much as he does you. always a man known as cool, calm, and collected, he’s stunned himself when realizing that, regarding the both of you, he’s willing to just about walk to the ends of the world and then some if it’d make you happy. 
he’s never known someone to be so easily cherished before you entered his life. to be truthful, his feelings for you scare him . . you scare him.
“sometimes, i jus’ . .” you never finish your sentence, opting to instead let them see for themselves. your fingers move — slip down so that the pads of them are flushed right up against the opening of your cunt, then you start to faintly push them back and forth. and granted, the action is mere, the sounds your pussy produces are fucking filthy. it’s obvious that you like it — the pressure, that is. you never let them slip inside, only squidge them against that hungry, little pit.
eren crowds in closer, “shit, she’s clenching again.”
another tide of slick from your cunt, another rush of blood to the tips of their cocks. “needy ass pussy.” onyankopon’s suddenly pushing your legs up further . . until your knees knock against your shoulders. you squeak in the same moment he tells eren, “slide a finger in, pa’.”
eyes wide, you’re watching, dazed, as eren’s soft lips pleat before a cool dollop of his spit is dripping from them and onto your pussy. the sight is nothing short of obscene, all the more so when the first knuckle of his middle finger is gliding inside you with enough ease to rival butter and you’re already trembling, mewling for more. he flits it inside until he hits the base, murmuring out to ony, “ ’s fuckin’ tight.”
“yeah?” suddenly, he’s roused to know, “. . anybody else ever been in there? y’a virgin, baby?”
your eyes are closed, acrylics digging into the flexed skin of his wrists as you nod your head and whimper a tender, “mhm.” hips buck when, empirically, eren curls his digit, avid to find one, specific spot. “wan’ you to take it . . you and ‘ren.”
another flow of blood and their balls tense. ony’s sure his tip is probably purple now. “wait, you sure?” reality breaks through his lust dazed brain and hits him with a swarm of questions. are you sure?, is the brunt of them. are you absolutely positive? but when your eyes open and he takes in the sheer amount of faith and certainty that swims within them, suddenly he’s aware that you’ve probably thought about this before, likely, over and over again. 
“m s-s-sure . . oh my god,” your back’s curving upwards when eren starts to stroke his finger inside of you, firm and steady. 
“you trust us that much?” he hums softly, stamping a sweet line of kisses up the plush chub of your tummy, within the valley of your tits, to your neck. “trust us enough to break your lil pussy in? shape it only for our cocks — that much, baby?”
the muscle of your thighs tauten as your pussy squelches around the single digit. you feel dirty . . . nevertheless, in the best of ways. “f-fuck me,” you’re admitting quietly, tipping your head back when the even edges of his teeth are sinking into the flesh of your neck, scented of apple and creamy iris. “fuck me, please?”
you’re so needy . . . “not yet,” onyankopon lowers down to peck a slow kiss upon your lips. “nah, i need a taste first.”
eren’s finger is gone and you watch them maneuver — smoothly . . effortlessly. once again, showcasing that the bond the two of them share travels far deeper than surface level. onyankopon stands, and before eren turns to replace his spot, he does the same and sharply tugs you towards him by the backs of your thighs until your ass nears the edge of the bed. 
your heart thuds at the sight of him . . . of his hair, luminous and long, swaying over his strong shoulders, the dark glint that wallows within the deep emeralds of his eyes, reading him knowing something that you don’t, his pretty smile, the slightly longer, sharper canines. and then, precipitately, deep, warm tanned skin is soon replaced by a smooth, velvety dark brown. emeralds are now smoky quartz. locks of faint ringlets are three sixty waves. 
you watch, lips parted in awe as onyankopon reaches behind his neck with both hands for the hem of his shirt to then swiftly tug over his head. he’s soon kneeling with a soft breath being exhaled from his nose, adjusting his chain while smirking and fixing his eyes upon yours, “don’t move too much, aight?” he mumbles, curtly pulling you even further until your ass hangs off of the bed, suspended in the air by only his hands. “ion like runners.”
“w-waitwait, wait . . ony.”
you wanted to mentally prepare yourself . . gather some shame. albeit, he simply ignores you. the warm pad of his tongue is wide; it parts the thick skin of your lips without his fingers needing to. your eyes flip back into your skull, legs preparing to close around his head until you hear a small ‘aht . . nuh uh, princess. open ‘em’ and shortly after, eren’s hands are finding the backs of your knees to keep them bent and spread wide. 
onyankopon suckles at your clit, lets his saliva loll out from his tongue, dips the tip of it inside of your hole until nearly half of it is buried inside of you — in short, he’s a fucking messy eater.
he makes you tremble no less than three minutes in. you’ve never experienced a sensation like it . . . mind staggering lust that is. no one’s ever made you feel as though you were two seconds away from being lit on fire if their touch were to ever leave you. 
you’re sobbing out a whiny, “o-ony,” when the thick pillows of his lips pinch the aching puff of your clit, rolling it between them before he lets it snap back into place with a loud smooch. down his tongue glissades, prior to it returning up, curling and scouring every inch of you without him needing to move his head an inch. 
“of course you taste this fuckin’ good,” he mumbles, eyes gliding to meet yours. he wants you to watch him, wants you to notice how good he makes you feel — kill any other thoughts of you being with another human being on this earth aside from him and his boy’s for as long as time exists. you’re theirs now. forever and always. 
his attention on you is diverted when one of his hands is gone from underneath your hips so that he can slowly watch himself ease a finger, deep and snug, inside of your little pussy. you hiccup, head tilting, back arching, hips fighting to buck. he hums, “pull it in — that’s right, yeah . . ‘m givin’ you one more — stop fuckin’ movin’.” he slips his ring finger in beside his middle, watching how wet they reappear when exiting your body.
“ion think we gon’ need lube, baby,” he utters for eren. fuck no, you’re dripping wet. 
sniffling, your toes, glossy with a cute, fresh, baby pink french tip, curl when his finger does the same. and you’re thinking that this is tolerable — his pace is slow enough for you to breathe in deep enough breaths to calm your racing heart . . . that’s until it increases speed, and with that, he also does something with his wrist — he rotates it, twisting his fingers with every pull out of your cunt, which in turn, leads them to begin to caress a raw, throbbing knurl of nerves inside of you that has tears scathing the surface of your eyes. 
“f-fuck, fuck, wait—“ quickly, your hands are shooting down to grab onto his, then both men are moving. eren snatches your wrists, gathering them within one of his own hands, and onyankopon swats a thick, reprimanding smack against one of the orbs of your ass. the sweet sob out you give is exceptional to hear.
“stay still.”
you take it that he’s found your g spot, because with every thrust inside, your pussy oozes . . no longer a thin, translucent slick, but sticky, gooey cream. you tremble, slumping your head back against eren’s thigh, feeling drool pool upon the surface of your tongue. he’s smirking when he looks down at you, dipping his thumb inside of your mouth, admiring how cutely you wrap your lips around it. have you already gone dumb? 
his eyes gaze deep into yours.
no, not yet . . . close, very fucking close, but not yet. be that as it may, they glimmer with awareness, he’s sure you still know your own name. 
“want you to cum, okay?” he utters, slipping his thumb free from your mouth to find the hardened nub of your nipple and tug. “whenever you feel it, want you to tell us.”
onyankopon’s tongue has found your clit again. your eyebrows furrow, nose cutely wrinkles with the onslaught of too much pleasure, “okay,” you snivel. “oh my . . god, why does this feel so good?” you sound broken — frustrated, almost. wrists wriggle within his hand, eren doesn’t think you do it on purpose, nonetheless, he knows that if he lets them go, they’ll revert right back into pushing ony away. 
letting his spit fall onto your pussy once more, the man between your legs licks his lips, halting the thrusts of his fingers to instead suddenly press them in deep and snap them, up and down.
it’s abrupt, the sweet squeaks you give — they’re immediate, “ ‘mcumming’mcumming . .” your shuddering legs latch closed around his hand. “daddy, ‘m cumming.”
forcefully, onyankopon shoves your legs back up and out of his way, “push it out,” he hums, “all of it . . every last fuckin’ drop.”
your pussy spasms, gurgling around his digits and drooling out honeyed cream. eren lets your wrists go and naturally, you’re grabbing onto him, pulling him down closer so that you’re able to bury your face within the slope of his neck in efforts to quiet your sounds. “c-can’t take — a-ah, daddy no,” you’re sobbing when his fingers enter the mix, finding your clit to trace messy halos onto. 
“jus’ take it,” he’s mumbling, kissing along the mounds of your tits. “there you go, fuck.”
when ony’s fingers are removed, so are eren’s. you whimper and pant, thinking you’re in the clear before a palm is falling down onto your cunt with a thick smack. 
from then on, you’re handled sweetly . . given a tender clit kiss, pushed back further up atop of the bed. you watch eren undress — socks first, then he unfastens his belt, the button of his jeans, and kicks them off. shirt torn away, your eyes flit between admiring the swirls of ink traced along the sleeves of his arms, the chasmic gorges mapping out the abs of his torso, or the bulge of his cock, pushing up against the grey fabric of his briefs. 
he’s big . . . intimidatingly so. 
he combs a hand through his hair, sparing a look at the mess of wet between your thighs and then, with his face is unchanging, he walks over to the nightstand, opens a drawer, grabs something, then flawlessly tosses it into the hands of onyankopon. “jus’ in case.”
your heart is pumping when his briefs are removed, you try not to gasp too loud when finally in eyesight of one of the main centers of your sometimes lewd daydreams and envisages. “. . oh  . . goodness,” you whisper. you gather it’s about eight and a half inches and, shockingly, a shade darker than him — akin to a toasted brown with a fuchsia colored tip, fat and leaky. his balls are firm . . chubby, dusted only with a few fine hairs to match his happy trail. it’s a beautiful thing, honestly. cut, long as much as it is thick, and veiny. what had made your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets had been the sight of barbells — small and silver, three of them, running vertically down his frenulum.
when he’s hovering over you, your face caged in by the thick muscle of his forearms, you’re still staring at it, fingers itching to feel. eren can tell. he’s chuckling, using a tendon underneath his stomach to make his dick jump and beckon you, “the piercings, huh?” he mumbles. “you can touch ‘em, mama, i don’t mind.”
“okay . . u-uhm, yeah,” you reach down and gingerly wrap your fist around him. he doesn’t react much aside from his tummy tensing, albeit, when your thumb strokes the three, little piercings, he sucks in some air between his teeth. “they don’t hurt?” you inquire quietly, eyes focused on a frothy bead of precum forming from the small hole atop his tip.
“no, jus’,” he bucks into your hand and gives another pretty smile. “fuckin’ sensitive.”
“oh,” you return it with a giggle. “. . . ’s pretty. i want one now.”
eren hums, “yeah? wanna match wi’me?”
“mhmm.”
you’re cute. you are really fucking cute.
he seizes your lips for another kiss, and with his legs, he slowly separates your own more further apart. the action reminds you of what’s about to happen. you reach for his shoulders, wrapping your hands around them tight. between the both of your lips, you whimper, “ ‘m scared.”
eren pulls away, face softened with gentle adoration, “you’re comfortable, yeah? y’still wanna do this?”
your responding nod is immediate. you do, you really do. 
“okay,” he kisses you again. “gonna go slow,” and with that, you feel the firm pillar of his cock beginning to rock between your lips, nice and easy. the tensed underside nudges at your clit with each move of his hips toward yours — you loosen with a soft moan. “think i can make you cum from jus’ this.”
you’re sure that you can. your clit is sensitive — still swollen and tingling with the assault of fingers and clever tongues. eren waits until he feels you gushing again, lubricating his cock with your desire and care. he waits until he hears the squelching, your sighs, your whimpers . . then he reaches down to take hold of the tip of his cock and carefully start to slide in. your body tenses.
“relax, mama,” ony’s crooning, keenly watching it all from near the opened window a few feet away where he sparks a thick blunt. 
“ ’s gonna hurt more if you flinch.”
you try. your eyes are tightly shut as you exhale a breath, “okay, o . . kay.”
eren finds the rigid nub of your clit, beginning to rub it in tight, stable circles. “like when i rub your clit, hm?” he whispers against your lips. “nice and quick.”
you mewl underneath his touch, nodding. you do. how quick the two of them have managed to learn your body is terrifying. you feel him push in another inch and with it, you focus more on his fingers, his voice, his lips. he smells yummy, you realize, and underneath the initial discomfort, you’re aware that there does seem to be a hidden pocket of pleasure, buried deep within it. when his balls are flushed against the knitted button of your ass, a quiet groan falls from your lips. you feel full — packed to the brim. in truth, it’s indescribable. 
eren dips his fingers into your mouth with one word mumbled, ‘open.’
you do so, allowing his middle and ring finger to slip against the pad of your tongue, collect some of your saliva upon them, then he’s gliding his hand back down, smearing it at his base. “gonna move now, okay?”
“uh huh.”
his first thrusts are slow . . shallow. he rocks in only about six inches, easing the taut, flexing muscles of your walls. “there you go,” he’s sighing, closing his eyes. when he decides to focus on how good it feels, he realizes that . . jesus fucking christ, your pussy is deadly divine. 
you sigh again, relax some more, open yourself further. “. . oh, fuck.”
you feel how much eren restrains himself, muscles within his arms and back tightening with the effort. it feels just as you thought — world staggeringly good. your fingers slide within his hair, arm tightens around his back. “deeper,” you whimper. “please.” you want him to give you all of him — every single inch. 
his voice is quiet, stifled, “you sure?”
you lift your hips, “yes, eren . . gimmie it.”
alright.
he gathers the slipping comforter within his fingers, lifting his head to look down into your eyes. his pupils are blown out, matching your own, and yet still, he makes sure you keep them focused on his when he suddenly presses in, then eases back out. you choke on your next mewl, eyes half lidded though remaining fixed upon his. it’s now a challenge, he supposes. who breaks it first. a slight, little smile starts to lift the corners of his lips when he does it again . . . and again, until he’s fucking you — nice and steady, firm and deep. you surrender without much of a fight given, throwing your head back, eyes shut, “f-fuck, eren.”
“ ‘m givin you what you wanted,” he softly huffs, grabbing one of your knees and bending it towards. “wanted me deeper, right?”
oh my god, it’s lewd, you find. the sound of smacking skin, his dick fucking your cream in and out of you, the moans and groans and sobs and cries. so, this is how it feels. eren’s cock is fat . . it manages to find crevices and crannies inside of you that you hadn’t even been sure existed. small hands find his hips and you sink your nails into them, mouth fallen agape.
“f-fuck,” eren grits out through his teeth. “my god, you’re takin’ it, baby — every . . fuckin’ inch. mm, feels good?”
you’re nodding your head, tits bouncing, legs agape, “feels s-so . . u-ungh!” 
words and reason knock against the barriers of your brain which drives more and more empty with each pummel of his cock within your fat, little pussy. you don’t want to think, don’t want to move — you want this until you physically can’t have it anymore. “daddy,” you whimper the name delicately, skating the opened gaps of your fingers through his hair once more to tug. “daddy, oh god.”
“yeah,” eren breathes, attentive to your words, your body, the soaked babbling of your pussy. “mm, i know — ‘m right here, mama. daddy’s right here.”
unanticipatedly, he pulls out. you both pant, watching as he grips his cock firmly at the base. he squeezes it . . once, twice, dips himself back in, then pulls right back out. “shit,” he moans. “pussy’s too good . . gonna make me cum.” it’s somewhere passed too good. he forces himself to get a grip. he doesn’t want to end this too early, fuck no.
and to somehow make matters worse, or rather, almost send eren into cardiac arrest, you lick your lips with a little smile before saying, “ ‘m on the shot . . you can cum in me, i’ll take it.”
it’s funny, he thinks. how you have the gall to appear shocked when he snaps himself right back in less than half a second after the statement spills from your mouth. yeah. you’ll take it. you’re going to fucking take it — one, two, three, maybe six loads, who knows how much he has inside of him tonight, but your little cunt’s going to take each one, he’ll make sure of it.
your pretty sounds are stolen from your mouth with each pounding thrust. no longer does eren lay atop of you, he’s grabbed you by the knees, bending them until they find your earlobes and with the weight of his body, he forces them to maintain the position while he braces for stability with his hands on the mattress above your head. 
his cock reaches deep, you find. plump, mushroom tip knocks incessantly at the grooved barrier of your cervix and here’s where the tears come . . warm, slow, and dribbling, falling down to your temples as you hold onto your own thighs, weeping for him to, “d-don’t stop, please, daddy, don’t stop.”
“mm, ’s all yours now, baby,” he groans. “ ’s all your dick . . for as long . . as y-you fuckin’ want it.”
you feel gooeyness dribbling down between the fat cheeks of your ass — sticky and warm. sparing a look over the folded rolls of your tummy, you find that eren’s dick is streaked with white. there’s a wreath of it thronged at his base, viscid and thick, leaking down his balls . . and it’s all produced from you. “u-unh, unh, g-god, fuck, ngh . .” your breaths are strained, your muscles burn, nevertheless, you don’t think you’ve never felt so good in your entire life. 
when eren sees you begin to drool, a sphere of pride swells within his chest. there it is. what he’s been wanting. you’re now fucked dumb . . plain out stupid. no longer do comprehensible spill from your swollen, plush lips . . only frail babbles and spit ridden slurs. “good girl,” he grumbles, smearing his thumb within the mess of your cheek. “good fuckin’ girl . . mhm, cream on it . . cream on your fuckin’ dick, go ahead.”
when that same slicked thumb starts to stroke your clit, your entire body tenses with the onslaught of your second orgasm of the night. meekly, almost fearfully, you sniff, “. . o-oh god, ‘m gonna cum, ‘rennie.”
eren’s eyes are brutish, firm when he demands, “do it,” through a low huff. “fuck did i jus’ say huh? . . . ’s yours, ruin it.”
you make him proud when you tearfully obey.
and god, it’s a mess.
you don’t squirt, no, it’s more of . . a stream — a warm cascade of liquid, texture akin to buttermilk as it flows over his dick and down your butt. eren feels how tight your pussy grips him as she works on letting it all run out, ripple by ripple, he feels how hard you grasp onto him, and goodness, he’s smitten by you. he’s absolutely besotted that he simply can’t help kissing you, mewling into your mouth when his own heated coil within the base of his stomach snaps as his balls flex and, with that, he gifts you a fat load of his seed — hot and runny. “oh, fuck,” he moans into the heated cavern of your opened mouth. his thighs shudder as he buries himself as deep as he can, “ooh shit . . g-good girl.”
the both of you are heaving by the time the aftershocks come and he’s careful in settling your legs back down, unfurling you from the surely uncomfortable position. you feel unworldly, mind far from your body, as you let your fingers intertwine within the spaces of eren’s as he pulls it up to his mouth to kiss each of your knuckles, one by one, prior to carefully pulling out.
his cum rushes to follow, leaking out of your now flexing pussy.
“shit.”
you hear onyankopon chuckling as he replaces where eren had been, right between your legs — completely barren from clothes as well, aside from his chain. his thumb finds the slit of skin above your clit and he pulls it upwards to make your cunt stretch and push out another glob of eren’s cum. “fuck . . that pussy’s gapin’ — was pent up, baby. i can tell.”
eyes closed, still laying beside you and fighting to catch his breath, eren laughs softly, “yo’, fuck you ‘yan.” it’s been a long time coming, he thinks. months of pining, runarounds, and hidden feelings. the high he’s riding is unable to be described by words. 
“poor mama,” onyankopon lowly drags, leaning down to peck your lips. you’re so gone, so far gone, you can only whine and reach for him. “i know, i know.”
he kisses your cheeks, your temple, your chin, forehead, soft and slow, awaiting the moment for when you sweetly hum and whisper his name, “onya.”
his voice is just as low when he asks, “you wanna rest up, baby? we can try us later—“
“no.” your voice is small though unyielding. you want him, too. “gimmie.”
alright. he will, then.
your pussy is sloppy when he smacks the tip of his cock against it — glossed over with white that smears along the surface of your thighs, too. strangely enough, onyankopon is in dire need for another taste. he can’t help swiping two of his fingers through your lips, collecting the mixture of you and eren’s love upon the pads of them before laying them on his tongue. he tastes your sweetness underneath the fresh tanginess of eren. oddly . . it balances out. 
“mmm,” he hums. 
his cock is two toned — a beautiful dark brown that fades into rosewood near halfway. similar to eren, he’s around eight and a half inches . . give or take, nine. just as his, too, it’s even all around — equal girth and length, heavy even while on brick. only difference was . . you notice the ony’s cock curves a bit . . . a bit to the left. you’re intrigued, watching him spit upon his tip, smear it in with his thumb, then breach his way inside.
it’s similar to the first time all over again. you tense . . . hard. 
both of them have to coo and pepper you with sweet kisses to get you to ease up again. “shit,” ony mutters, eyebrows furrowed as he works in the last three inches. “still tight . . how you still fuckin’ tight?”
your answer is lost somewhere within your moans. you were scared of his curve, you’ll admit, however, you find that . . it works. when ony manages to push all of himself in, he discovers that he needs to keep himself still for a moment . . all in fear of not wanting to bust a premature nut come the sensation of your flexing walls. “shit.”
you watch him lick his lips and give you a dazed sort of smile, eyes half lidded, and grill glinting underneath the silvered rays of moonlight pouring in through the opened curtains, “you feel good as a motherfucka’, mama, ‘m not gon’ lie.”
once more, your cunt constricts, “fuck me then.”
he does. 
to your surprise, he starts off slow . . rolling his hips in then out, rhythmically, almost as if there were a song only he can hear playing. you shudder with each thrust forward, eyes cycling back, hands reaching for his forearms. you watch his smirk broaden when his tempo speeds up, morphing your faint, little whimpers into hard gasps and long moans. “mmmmhm,” he mutters, taking the soles of your feet and using them to open your legs as wide as they were able. “yeah . . give me that shit.”
with a faster pace comes harder plunges. a splatter of wetness squelches out from your pussy with each drive in. “you gon’ take it?” he huffs, sliding his hands across down your calves, to your thighs. “you not gon’ run?”
“noo, ‘m not, i p-prom . . pinkie p-promise,” you keen. you’d never. you want to be good for him, too, just as you were with eren. you want to be their good girl. 
and that’s all onyankopon wants to hear.
he pulls out, and with that, falls on his back, and tugs you on top of him. “sit on it.”
reading your apprehensiveness all over your pretty face, he gives you a blinding white and gold smile, “don’t be scared, i gotchu.” your legs are trembling when you slowly swing one over his hip. dark browns focus on the bounce of your tits as you lean forward, reach behind yourself for his dick, rub it up and down your slit a few times, then carefully ease your way on down. “mmph.” you sniffle, placing your hands on the solid, tatted skin of his pectorals. he feels even bigger this way, you suppose, fat and lengthy. you force yourself to keep going, withal, to keep pushing down until his full, stout balls are pressed against the softness of your ass. 
ony moans a soft, “jus’ like that.” his hands don’t go for your hips, no, they slide up until he takes hold of the sides of your torso, more upon your ribs. “i gotchu, don’t even worry, baby girl.”
you weren’t aware that onyankopon would, quite literally, have you. he doesn’t allow you to move an inch, plainly starts to bounce you up and down atop of his cock, lifting your body as though you were the weight of a five pound dumbbell. you squeak, and you squeal, and you cry, holding on by pressing down upon his abs, letting him flat-out break in your dainty, little cunt. 
you’re aware of the picture you must paint. sweet chub of your cheeks polished with garlands of tears, fat of your ass jiggling each time it meets the hard muscle of his thighs, your tits rebounding with each pound . . . you’re something out of a porn catalogue, surely. 
and ony’s very encouraging. he hums and he groans and he hisses, calling you ‘their good girl,’ tells you that your pussy is the best he’ll ever get, demands through low murmurs that you ‘get that dick.’ you find that you crave to do it yourself — bounce, that is. your legs move, feet flattening upon the bed . . and he notices. “w-wanna,” you sniffle, voice broken as you swipe the back of your wrist across your soaked cheek. “wanna m-make you cum, daddy.”
onyankopon has to close his eyes at the simple sentence — what you don’t know is that you almost caught him then and there. he’s two seconds away from shooting triplets inside of you, he’s sure. birth control be damned. 
and you do it. you stabilize yourself with one hand on his shoulder, the other on the cheek of your ass, spreading it all in efforts because you’re curious . . you want to feel how much your pussy has to stretch to accommodate all that he gives. “s-s-sooo big,” you moan, eyes flipped white as a trickle of drool sways from the pudginess of your bottom lip, dripping down to his chest. “s-so big, papa.”
“fuck,” ony’s groaning, lip bitten over with his teeth as he looks between your bodies to find that tiny, fat cunt creaming again, leaking down his balls. “why you . . givin’ it to m-me like this, princess?”
you suddenly slam down and swirl your hips in delicious, petite circles, acquiring some much needed friction from his trimmed pubes against your clit. “ ‘c-cause . . — wan’ y-your cum,” you admit with a pout. you’re needy for it. you’ve gotten a taste and you doubt you’ll ever be the same again. 
never the one to be outdone, ony starts to raise his hips, meeting you halfway. “yeah?” he licks his lips. “you want this nut? . . you gon’ catch it?”
when he speeds up, you’re aware that he’s taken over the reigns again. your head tips back and, once again, you hold on while nodding. “uh huh,” you squeak. “hng . . unh, unggg.” god, you are absolutely filthy. ony knows that you two are plain out disgusting, but, he can’t find it within himself to actually give a fuck.
he has you — the girl of his dreams — brain dead, cockdrunk, drooling, and needy for his cum. “yeahhh,” he drags lowly, eyebrows furrowing, watching your pretty nails disappear between your thighs where you go to rub your clit, “yeah, you w-want this fuckin’ nut . . ima give it to you.” you’re working for it . . clenching and creaming, and rolling your hips. he thinks he’d be a fool to not grant your wishes.
grabbing onto your hips, he bounces you once, twice, thrice, four times before the two of you are reaching your highs in unison. your gasp is hard. you lose your balance, legs trembling too hard that somehow, you end up falling and flat upon his chest, clawing your nails into his shoulders while his fingers grasp onto your ass, forcing you to rock your hips back and forth. “r-ride it out, mama,” he hisses, “ride that shit out, fuck.” the longer, the better.
you unflex your toes when it starts to, sadly, ebb away near a minute later. how disappointing. onyankopon’s arms are wrapped around you. he holds you tight, as though he never wants to let go. your head feels fuzzy — the world is a blur when you feel yourself being picked up and moved. “mm, shit, baby,” he groans. you have his legs weak and, what was once dark, illuminates into brilliance as he carries you inside of eren’s bathroom. you hear water running and you feel ony carefully slipping himself from inside of you before you’re being transferred into someone else’s arms and lowered into a vast jacuzzi bathtub, full of warm water whose surface is clouded with foaming, glimmering bubbles. 
“mm,” you sniffle and focus your sight on ony who stands in front of the mirror, slowly removing the gold cap from his mouth. 
“careful, mama.”
eren’s behind you. carefully, he ties your braids into a big, topple of a bun, making sure they don’t get too wet, just before sinking inside the tub, too. tugging you into his chest, he isn’t at all surprised to feel your muscles liquify as you melt and tip your head back into his shoulder. you’re tired now, of course you are. “wan’ it again,” you admit through a mewl with a dazed smile after ony’s in the tub, too. “an’ again . . an’ again.”
they both chuckle. “nah, baby, you gotta rest for a little bit.”
you agree. one hundred percent. your cunt aches, thighs burn with the exertion of being folded up and all the bouncing, to add, your throat is sore, nevertheless, you suppose all is a small price to pay in order to feel as good as you did when they’re buried deep inside of you, “. . an’ then i can get it again?”
they’ll give it to you as much as you want. they’ll give you the world if it’s just enough to put another beautiful smile on your face.
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  ❤︎ — all rights reserved ! © pwncez !
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tvgals · 4 months
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this twitter video is so eren + armin.
imagine ur onys little sister. he’s seen you a bunch with eren and armin everywhere, and it boils his blood.
you were on a group call with armin and eren. ony walking into your room and sucked his teeth at the sight. “why tf are you on the phone wit’ these lil dick ass white boys?” ony asks, leaning in the doorway. “man, ony keep playing bro. promise i got sum for you.” usually, eren would be playing, but you can’t hear his playful tone.
“bitchass nigga…” ony mumbles, walking out. you roll your eyes and look at your phone.
-
you had tears rolling down your face, your lashes going crooked. “oh my godddd!” you moaned arching your back. eren smiles, lifting a leg to get deeper strokes. “cmon mama, show me you can take it.” armin takes his dick out and stroked it a bit, walking up to you and tapping your cheek with his dick. you opened your lined lips and armin shoved his dick down your throat. “ahhh shit, take that dick..” armin groans, throwing his head back.
eren took his phone from the side of the bed, opening snapchat. he starts recording you, gripping your hips hard. “yeahhh…our bitch. she’s such a whore, sucking dick and taking it in her pussy too?” armin spits, laughing a little.
eren ends the video and puts a text of “lil dick white boys? do yo hw on us 🤣🫵‼️” and he sends it to onyankopon. he gets a response almost immediately.
“promise it’s up next time i see you.”
“im bussin a cap in you and that blonde ass nigga.”
but the three of you can’t hear the ping of the notifications over the groans and moaning.
ony was gonna kill them.
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satorusdiary · 11 months
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Dating basketball player Eren jaeger.
Basketball player! Eren who has a necklace with your initials, filled with small diamond jewels. Not only that but you have a necklace that his initials, just so everyone knew who was yours.
Basketball player! Eren who doesn’t go to parties, which is unusual since he was the one who would attend all parties that was happening with his friends. Instead, he’s in his dorm room with you in his bed watching some scary movie you begged him to play for what it seemed like forever.
Basketball player! Eren who drives the both of you to his practices. Every day or night, whenever he has practices your coming along for sure. Just so he could see your cute smile sitting on the bleachers, whilst watching him practice to make you proud.
Basketball player! Eren who makes out with you in the hallways infront of anyone who has a crush on him. Just so he could prove to them that he’s only yours.
Basketball player! Eren who looks out for you in the crowd during a game when he makes a shot. Shooting a wink at your direction along with a cute bright smile. He always notices whenever you blow a kiss his way.
Basketball player! Eren who won’t stop bragging about you to his teammates! Whether it would be in the locker room, or in the court while their practicing for their upcoming game.
“Bro, i’m being serious. Y/N is a fucking angel. I love her soo fucking much, did you see how cute she was in my jersey?” Eren rants to his friends, being half naked with a towel covering his bottom half.
Reiner rolls his eyes, and sighs.
“yes eren, i think we know how lucky you are to have a hot girlfriend with an ass.” Reiner blurts out the last part, on accident. Now his eyes are wide.
Eren glares at Reiner.
“I know she’s hot Reiner. But if you stare at her like that i’ll fucking pull up to your neighborhood at three am, i’m not playin’ around.” Eren grunts, slamming his locker closed, sending a strong push of wind towards Reiner who watches his friend leave the locker room pissed off.
Basketball player! Eren who walks you to your classes. Always having an arm wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to him, not letting any male besides the guys he’s cool with close to you. After you both make it to your class, he kisses your forehead and your lips waving you goodbye and to have a good class.
Basketball player! Eren who has you on his lap whenever he does attend a party. Most likely he would go if you wanted to go. He’s sitting on a chair beside the pool whilst interacting with his friends, and teammates going over the next game.
Basketball player! Eren who unfollows any girl who isn’t you. This only happened because you mentioned once about how many girls he was following as a joke.
“Rennie.. why is your following count so low on instagram.” You nervously ask your boyfriend who was sitting on his desk doing his homework.
His hair was out of its bun, freely laying against his shoulders. He looked, utterly focused on his homework that would be due tomorrow.
“Jus felt like it. Why should i follow any other girl when they aren’t my pretty girlfriend?.” His smile gets brighter, sending a heartwarming feeling into your chest. Your lover for him always increasing from his actions.
You grin, walking over and sitting on his lap. Eren chuckles at the amount of kisses your pressing all over his face.
“Mwah! i love you s’muchhh.” You pressed another kiss.
Eren cups your cheek, placing a sweet kiss on your lips.
“I love you more, pretty girl so much more than you know it.
Basketball player! Eren who punches the shit out of any dude who checks you out in front of him. It gets really bad when he needs three of his friends to pull him off of the dude who decided to disrespect you. His girl.
nsfw
Basketball player! Eren who fucks you rough, just because he lost a game for the first time in so long. He has you on all fours, begging him to slow down when his big cock is jamming inside you multiple times. He had one of his hands slither down to your clit to toy with you more, making you arch your back more and cry out his name.
Basketball player! Eren who fucks you against the lockers in the changing rooms after his victory game, just to make one of the players who have a crush on you jealous that Erens the one that’s fucking you. The look on his face never fails to make Eren grin in satisfaction.
His jersey is over you, and is the only thing your wearing while your getting pounded. Your legs wrapped around Erens waist, and him pressing kisses to your cheeks muttering how much he loves you, and how much he would love to have a family with you and marry you.
After that the other player who had a crush on you never showed up to practice ever again.
Basketball player! Eren who gets head from you before a game happens. The both of you are in a small closet, with you on your knees taking Erens cock in your throat as best as you could. Eren, who is standing beside the wall, forcefully thrusting his dick inside your sweet mouth.
Basketball player! Eren who invites you inside his dorm to study, when later on your going to be sitting on his face with his mouth sucking and licking your folds.
Basketball player! Eren who sends the guys who flirt with you a photo of you on your knees giving Eren a blow job. If they manage to piss off Eren more, he ends up sending the boys your guys sex tape just so they would stop flirting with his baby.
Basketball player! Eren who stuffs you full of his cum, and uses your underwear to stop it from leaking out when the both of you are walking bath to a class you both have together. All of your classmates look at you both, noticing how messy you both looked. But they aren’t a stupid, they knew you fucked.
Basketball player! Eren who touches you inappropriately and makes out with you infront of the girls who flirt with him. Never forgetting to introduce you to them, a sad and embarrassed expression playing on their faces as they apologize to you.
“Oh, this is my beautiful girlfriend y/n. Did you she’s going to move in with me once we graduate? Not only that, but did you know she sucked my dick about.. hmm.. 12 minutes ago?” A menacing grin appears on his face.
Basketball player! Eren who cockwarms you whilst you do your homework. It doesn’t take long before you start bouncing on his dick, begging for him to cum inside you.
Basketball player! Eren who takes photos of you filled with his cum, naked with only his jersey on, and on his dick when his cum gets on your whole body. He never fails to keep the photos in his wallet, his binder, and on the mirror in his car.
Basketball player! Eren who always tells you he loves you, and always spills all of his feelings to you whenever you both are having soft, slow, loving sex just for you to feel better whenever you have a bad day.
Basketball player! Eren who makes it clear to anyone who tries interfering with his relationship that you’re his favorite girl. And that you both belong to each other. No bitch is going to ruin that.
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ellieswyfe · 7 months
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A Little Lower…
(tw): anal, oral (f recieving), slight overstim, usage of daddy (orc), pure porn no plot. MDNI
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"w-wait..." you moaned out, pulling on your lovers long brown hair, which currently rested in between your thighs. red, low, blue eyes staring back at you while his head was tilted in confusion.
eren, now being disturbed from finishing his desert prior to the meal you cooked earlier, was irritated and didn't pay you much mind while you talked. almost immediately looking back down at your pussy, before he spat on it once again. the thick saliva dripping from your clit to the lower crack of your ass.
"too low b-baby, i can feel it on my.." you trailed off, not wanting to finish your words. eren might've still been high, but you almost sobered up immediately after feeling his long wet tongue prod at your lower hole.
eren has been wanting to try butt stuff for awhile now in bed. its not like you completely opposed of the idea of anal, its just that you didnt wanna gross him out, even if he begged and pleaded you for it.
"can you feel it here?" he smirked, circling the cushy bud with his tongue, right before running it straight back up your cunt and down again to suckle on your clit. moaning into your soaked folds.
"mmhmm- s-shit daddy!" you moaned at the sensation of his pink lips licking and sucking you up. his tongue spreading your folds again, then traveling a little lower to your core. he grabbed into your plush thighs when you tried to escape his grasp. crescent marks forming into them, turning into a painful pleasure. "why you running from daddy baby… huh?" he questioned, husky voice teasing your use in the pet name while continuing to eat away at your juices.
“not running…s’ jus..toooo m-much.” you whined out once again. right before cutely rolling your eyes back, and curling your toes to have a mind blowing nutt. mouth opened forming the shape of an “o”. cream and juices covering erens mouth and chin while he continues to eat you through the gasm.
eren staring down pussy drunk, begins licking and eating up all of the evidence of his work and sucking on your stiff-prodding clit once again.
“mmph…anhhh-” your strangled moan barely makes it’s way out of your esophagus before a new wave of pleasure takes over. almost immediately being hit with overstimulation as eren wanders his tongue and begins to suck and lick at the plush brown hole of your anus.
eren slowly begins to push his tongue inside of the wanting hole and you can feel yourself melt. pussy juices gushing with every push and prod he makes. the action alone has you squirting all over erens lower face. some of it finding its way into his gruffy stuble. (which has him going crazy for you all over again the next morning)
“think you can do that for me one more time ma?” eren smugly questions from his position in between your thighs. “i-“ and before you had the chance to fully answer him, eren resumed his work devouring your holes, twirling his tongue back n forth until your creamy, wet, and whining all over again.
(no mood song tdy my spotify isnt working :/)
♡⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢♡
hey yall sorry for the long wait- uni has been kicking my ass since my classes started back up n im kinda busy now… 😣
but like whaa im so surprised my last one blew up like it didd tysm for all the support🩷 so yk i hadda post sum slight
(AND MY TWO FAVS NOTICED MEEE LIKE WTHHHHH 😩💁🏾‍♀️)
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insaneprincess · 1 year
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eren j.
the sun hasn’t raised up and you woke up clenching your thighs together after the wet dream you woke up from noticing that eren was up with just his pajama pants on. his dick following his footsteps as he approached you from the balcony rolling his blunt. his hair in the messy man bun, his tattoos decorated his skin and his ear piercing shining in the mid dark room. you two ended up in bed passing the blunt to one another, not paying attention to the low tv in the background. playing too much around eren and telling him about your little dream about him blowing your back out. and you in nothing but a braless white wife beater and a thong that was hooked on your ass cheek which was constantly getting hard smacks. the bed rocking back and forth from your husband’s hard nonstop thrust. he tugged on your tank top for your ass to meet his pelvic just to hear those skin slapping noises along with the squelching of you creamy pussy. eren groans at how tight your clench around his cock and the white cream that coated his dick whenever he went balls deep in you. spreading your asscheeks just to smack them to see how it recoiled. your face was hot from the heavy toxic smell of weed eren was smoking. ” oh my…goddd” you moaned try to find something to hold on to as eren pressed your arch lower to deepen his strokes. “ throw that shit back baby” the sudden action caused you to scream rolling your eyes and eren murmuring little “ fucks” and “ shit”. “ god- eren shittt- you’re too deep!”. “ yeah? how deep am i mamas- is it here?” he emphasized pressing on your stomach listening to how broken your whining and your moans became. “ please- ‘ren slow down” he ignored you grabbing your chin letting you teary eyes meet his low red ones as he blew the smoke on your face chuckle at how you shut your eyes closed. he put out the blunt on the ashtray near the big bed you shared pressing open mouthed kisses on you plump lips and your neck. he gripped the headboard of the bed eying you with low eyes and a smile on his pretty face. how your wet lashes kissing your cheeks, nose all pink and runny from the cries and lips swollen. with your arch breaking and your thighs and legs shaking you began to babble non understandable words. mind all clouded and going dumb. “ what you trynna say baby?” you felt close and so overstimulated and tried to get away from the tall strong man you gripped on your hips not letting you run away knowing that both of you were close to your climax. “ why you runnin’ away- you gon’ take all this ma”. hearing how he talked to you had your cunt sucking him in if you weren’t doing so already. you forgot to warn eren before you squirted, soaking his whole dicks and pelvic. he laughed behind you, tapping his tip to help you with your release before entering you again to release his cum deep inside of you. <3
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nuclevi · 1 year
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boyfriend!eren who ties his hair with your hair ties, be it pinkish or silky or has flowers on it, he will wear them regardless and endure all the teasing from jean and connie.
boyfriend!eren who takes you on long midnight drives around the city and buys you donuts and kisses your cheeks while watching the stars.
boyfriend!eren who takes you out to cheap streetfood dates when he is broke but promises to make it up to you by flying you to Dubai or Maldives when he works hard and becomes a millionaire.
boyfriend!eren who makes ramen for you at 3 am with cheese and sausage to satisfy your cravings. who scribbles away all the calories and nutritional info on the back of your fav snacks so you dont have to worry abt anything else except enjoying food. who tried to bake you a frog cake and it ended up like this.
boyfriend!eren that doesn’t care about anyone else apart from you. who once let his insecurities take over and called armin in the middle of the night bawling and sobbing about how he will die of heartbreak if you left him for some other guy. who only calmed down once you assured him and let him sleep in your arms.
boyfriend!eren who shows up at your house in the middle of the night with ice cream when you feel upset or sad. who keeps a small portable bottle of your perfume or body mist so he can smell it when you are away or when he misses you. 
boyfriend!eren who tries everyday to become a better version of himself so he can feel happy and make you and himself proud. 
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erenthology · 6 months
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Assertive
Rugby boyfriend!Eren x fem!reader
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collage au, possessive but in an infatuated boyfriend type of way. Size differences are mentioned. No matter your size, Eren is bigger than you. (Note: going to be more active now that Aot is ending. Feel free to send requests ♡)
I don’t mind if you’re ignoring me, cuz I’m ignoring you. “ he watches you bounce around the room in your thin, white nightdress. 
You continue looking for your phone, ignoring him. There’s no way you haven’t searched every inch of his dorm room by now, so you finally look at him. He’s laying on the bed shirtless, hands behind his neck, looking at you innocently. That f’ckin bastard.
“Do you have my phone, Eren?”
He flashes his teeth, “ugh, baby, you have no idea how nice it is to hear your voice again. C’mere.” he pats his lap.
You sternly put your hand on top of your hip, arching it to the side, giving Eren the perfect view. “Do you have it or not?” He doesn’t even try to hide his smirk.
”Do I? I'm not sure. You should come over and look,” stretching his arms out in an inviting pose.
Earlier, Eren’s roommate, Floch, made a joke about how he can hear when you and Eren are having sex. When you told Eren, he rushed out of the room and ordered Floch to apologize. Completely scolding him like a dad. You felt embarrassed since you didn’t want his friends to think you can’t take a joke.
You know he’s just going to grab and pull you towards him, so instead, you start walking towards the door. Eren tenses immediately and rushes towards you,
‘’Hey, hey” he grabs your hand. ”where do you think you’re going?’’ he questions with furrowed eyebrows.
‘’To ask if the guys have they’ve seen it?’’ 
His eyes flash red for a second. To have his friends see the outline of your nipples through that thin fabric of your so called pajamas? He looks you up and down, nope, not happening. You should be wearing his t-shirts to bed anyway.
 ‘’Not like that, you’re not,’’ he gives you an ‘’end of discussion’’ look, but you huff and turn anyway. Not that you get far at all, he has you slung over his shoulders before you’ve even fully turned.
The con of having a rugby player as a boyfriend is that he throws you around a lot without so much as breaking a sweat. When you’re mad at him, he has this irritating habit of lifting you off the ground and cuddling you until you’ve cooled down. Claiming it “breaks his heart watching you walk away angry.”
He walks towards the bed, ignoring your fists punching at his back. “You’re such a brat sometimes.” He doesn't mind at all though, Eren has the patience of a saint when it comes to his girl, he enjoys being the one to set you straight.
He carefully lies you down on his bed, positions himself on top and grins, ‘’gotcha,’’ then smacks a kiss on your cheek. ‘’You’re annoying.” you pinch his ear in retaliation.
“Ow, hey, you know you’re stronger than you look.” he scratches his reddened ear. ‘’I'm being deadass, baby, you could go pro in armwrestling or some shit.’’ You burst out laughing over how dramatic he’s being and his eyes lit up from the sound. Your smile always captivates him.
Feeling yourself being stared at, you grin cheekily, unable to hide your smile “weirdo, stop staring,’’ brushing your fingers against his stubble. His eyes follow the movement of your hand and begin tracing the shape of your figure when all of a sudden he starts attacking you in tickles.
You’re both advancing on each other playfully, laughing hysterically. In an attempt to roll out of his reach, Eren quickly reacts by by grabbing your hands and pins them above your head. The laughter is quickly replaced with heavy pants as you stare at him naively, your chest rising up and down.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he lets go of his grip and rests his head on your chest, “you know, it doesn’t matter if you’re mad. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable staying here.’’ he gently admits, then lifts his head,
‘’plus, I’m the only one who has a say about you in bed.” he wiggles his eyebrows.
“Gross,’’ you push his chest, apparently amusing him by the look on his face. ‘‘but it’s fine, really. I just wanted to ignore the situation, but I guess he should learn that not everything needs to be said.’’ At this, he grins and takes ahold of your chin,
‘’that’s a good girl.’’
You ignore the heat rising in your face and smack his hand away when you suddenly remember, ‘’speaking off, where is my phone? You know I need to do my nightly routine check.’’
He knows. It’s the reason he slipped it under his pillow the moment you started throwing a fit. It’s nice having the most predictable girl on the planet. ‘’You can do it later, let a man enjoy his girl for a moment. You can be mad at me after.’’
‘’I'm not mad at you’’ you look genuinely offended, causing him to snicker. “Besides, I kinda liked the whole sexy, scolding dad thing you had going on. It was kinda turning me on,” you admit, looking straight into his eyes.
His hands on your hips stiffen instantly and his whole demeanor changes. “Don’t even joke, [name] I will put a baby in you right this second,” large hands grab your ass and starts grinding your body against his.  
You attempt to leave but he drags you right back, looking at you confused. Looking down, you purr, “I really need to do my routine check,” sticking out your lower lip for extra effect.
You love to rile him up and have him mock you for being greedy and bratty. His face gets closer to yours with his eyebrows all furrowed.
“Did you just pout at me?”
“Nuh uh,” you lie and tease your hand against his belt, Eren’s eyes follow your movements then trace back up to your face, where you’re innocently meeting his eyes.
He grabs a fistful of your hair and looks down at your hand playing against his bulge. ‘’You wanna get fucked?’’ he spits with disgust, or admiration. It’s hard to tell with him.
“Know you enjoy keeping me on edge, acting all innocent when we both know,” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes lingering just a second too long on your lips. Thoughts on ways to tame you running wild in his head.
‘’Telling me it turned you on when I was commanding,’’ he shakes his head as if disappointed.‘’It's good I’m here to keep you in line. A girl like you needs that.’’
You feel the imprint of him on your stomach as his hips press you down on the bed, leaving you no space to leave. You try your best to keep your voice steady. “Just wanna make you happy,’ you breathe out. He almost laughs. 
“You know what would make me happy?‘’ Eren stands and lifts you up with him.
‘’you with my cock in your mouth.” You almost go limp in his arms from how lewd he's being. 
Giving you an expectant look, he nudges your nose with his, “are you waiting for something? get to work.” he guides you down on your knees towards his crotch. The carnal look in his eyes makes you fumble a bit with his belt, but Eren is patient. Sometimes you suspect he enjoys seeing you nervous to perform for him.
Pressing a kiss on the tip, he returns his gratitude by patting your hair in a domineering act, “make me proud.’’ he smiles, in which you relish. Keeping eye contact, you swirl your tongue around his shaft before hollowing your cheeks and start working your way down. You can’t help but gag at his size, no matter how often you blow him. 
It’s been quiet for some time now and you’re growing impatient with the lack of praise. You decide to look up at him through the tears in your eyes and catch him smiling down at you. The scene feels so filthy you can’t help but slyly drag your fingers over your panties to relieve some of the pressure, secretly humping your hips against your hand to the sound of his pants. 
He just nearly cums in your mouth when he notices what you’re up to. Shamelessly playing with yourself, mouth filled with cock, you look straight out of Eren’s nastiest fantasies, it was perfect.
He bends down and pulls your hand out from under your nightdress, “Not yet, need you to be a good girl for me.’’ Then he does the hottest thing all night, he leans down to give it a kiss. You love him. He makes you feel like a princess getting fucked by her knight.
Feeling enthusiastic again, you eagerly reach for him to continue where you left off, but are stopped yet again. Whining, you wait for him any sort of command, just to do something, anything! but he looks so unaffected it’s making you wail even louder.
 “stop whining, you don’t deserve to suck my dick.” Despite the warning, you almost do it again but stop yourself when you notice the glare you’re given. “But I really needa feel you, Eren. It hurts down there.” you were so wet it felt like you were about to explode from the lack of release. 
He's only a man after all, even he has his limits when you wail pathetically about how wet your pussy is. Now he needs to have a look. He pulls you up by your torso, ‘’does sucking me off make you wet?’’ You nod and visibly see his ego lit up.  
A thin sheen of sweat connects your bodies as he effortlessly carries you over to his bed. You take advantage of your flexibility and spread your legs as far apart as you can once he lays you down, earning a groan out of him.
He doesn't hesitate a moment further to push his face in there and peek under your dress. “such a pretty cunt, princess. no idea how often I jerk off thinking about it, about this,” kissing through your soaked panties. Your hips jerk upwards at his erotic words, desperate for friction.
“Eren, please”
He pushes your panties to the side but keeps them on. It’s like he’s so needy for you he can’t be bothered to take off either of your clothes properly, but patient enough to check out every inch of you as if seeing you like this for the first time.
Eren’s broad body consumes your smaller frame as you lie beneath him. You love this feeling, him shielding your body from anyone and anything but himself. 
 His ring covered fingers play softly with your bud, observing your reactions before lining himself against you, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. The sight of Eren being almost abnormally endeavored by your pussy as he spits on his hand and pumps his cock, increases the heat pooling in your abdomen. 
You lie still, enjoying the sensation of him rubbing and tapping himself against you. His eyes are fixated entirely on your cunt and you enjoy every bit of the attention. Not to say you’re not curious about what goes on in his mind when he’s focused and quiet like this. Like your body is art and he is studying and memorizing every part of it.
Once satisfied, he pushes through the tight hindrance and sucks in a breathe, “oh, fuck.” and finally looks up at you. His heart stops a beat when he’s reminded of how beautiful you are. The urge to hide you away from anyone's eyes but his, hits him strong but he bites it back.
Time slows for a moment as you both take each other in through half lidded eyes, and for some reason, your vision has never been as clear. His fingers thread through yours as he leans in for a kiss. When he pulls away, your eyes are still closed. Eren grins and places one last kiss on your forehead before thrusting his way in. 
He’s fucking you with his hips, hard. Hands pressing down your pelvic, holding you still for him to ram into. The strap of your nightdress has slightly fallen down your shoulders, so he pushes the fabric that’s hiding you from him down further, and exposes your breasts. The moan he lets out from the sight is pure filth. 
‘’Touch yourself.’’ he demanded, pupils dilated. With glazed over eyes, you comply and start playing with yourself, twisting and grazing your nipples. The act drives him to lift your hips to reach deeper into you,’’really thought i’d let you walk out of my room looking like this.’’ he grows almost annoyed at the thought. 
Tenderly cupping his cheek, he almost flinches from how lovingly you’re looking at him, “You’re all I want, Eren.’’ and he almost melts. When you say things like that it makes him want to keep you to himself even more, resting his forehead against yours, he looks at you with almost a pained expression. ‘’that’s good, because i'm a selfish man.’’
 With your legs lifted around his waist and upper body sprawled on the bed, you’re essentially at his mercy as he connects your bodies in repeated thrusts. Again, again and again, the sound of him pushing into you echoes in the room. 
He fucks like a deprived man and speaks like a man in love. “Does it feel good, princess?’’ You nod with lovestruck eyes. ‘’Yeah? taking me so well. making me so proud.’’ The pressure feels too intense, about to snap.
He’s stretching you on his cock and looking straight into your eyes as he's doing it. Your body dissolves into pleasure as you writhe beneath him.
Your body starts squirming uncontrollably, causing him to grip your hips ever tighter, overpowering you in strength. You let out a loud sob and rake your nails on his back when your vision suddenly fades to black. He stares at you, astonished.
He raises an eyebrow, “did you just cum?” the thusting has stopped completely now but you felt his dick twitch inside you as he asked. “Tried to hold it in for you,” you stare back apologetically, eyes still sprinkled with lust. Best part is, he knows you didn’t. And you know it too. 
“Turn around,” he orders. You obey and slump towards the bed with your back against him, hiding your face in the pillows. “Don’t act all shy with me now, let’s see your face,” he leaves no room for discussion, so you slowly turn your head and face him. He looks so big staring down at you from your vulnerable position. “That’s a good, good girl.” 
Next thing you know, your cheeks are being spread and played with. Still high on ecstasy from the orgasm you just had, the energy to perform is nonexistent, so he does the job for you.
Huge hands angle your limp body upwards, then press down your back to create a beautiful arch, only for his eyes to admire. He sinks back inside and buries his cock in your warmth.
It’s hard maintaining eye contact with him when he’s like this, it feels so shameless, almost taboo, still, you can’t look away. He’s pounding into you, pulling your hips hard against him.
“This is what you’re making me do, looking at me like that. No one else will ever be able to see you like this,” he occupies his thumb by rubbing it over your clit. The contact is so delicate but rapid nonetheless.
You nod agreeably, barely able to register his words. “Are you close, Eren?’’
“Yeah,” his hands pressed down tightly on your lower abdomen, the scream you let out is almost inhumane. ‘’yes, yes.” you’re grinding back against him in heated motions, shockwaves of heat pumping through your body.
He snaps his pelvic against your ass and feels you sucking him right back in.  He thinks back to what you said before about him as a dad and his eyes roll back. The thought of you carrying his child inside you makes him come undone.
“Ugh, fuck.” He comes audibly high etc, covering you in his cum. You expect him to catch his breath but he smoothly regains his composure and pushes you on your back, his thumb finding its way right back to your clit, barely even getting started before leading you to your second orgasm.
You scream in pleasure as he cups your face, lips brushing against your ear. “That's it, princess, you did so well for daddy. made me so proud.” he praises as he pushes your hair out of your face. 
The lack of response makes him laugh, realizing he’d fucked you to sleep, litterally. chuckling, he grabs a warm cloth and cleans you up to his best effort.
You’re usually sleepy right after sex so this is a regular routine for you both. He smacks a kiss on the top of your head and covers you with his comforter then goes for a shower.
Once he’s done, he carries you up bridal style to the bathroom. “Wake up, sleepy.” he’s back to his sweet self. You grunt in response. “C’mon, you need to pee.’’ It’s true, so you comply and he leaves you to it. 
This is a conversation you’ve both had before, he feels no need to leave when you do your business but you’ve kicked him out enough times so he knows the drill by now. Eren changes the bedsheets while you clean up.
When finished, you walk back to the bed and he opens his arm for you to rest on, your phone lying beside him. You jump at the invitation and he hugs you towards him, ‘’what do you feel like eating?’’ he’s playing with your hair as you lie comfortably on his arm. 
“Not hungry.’’ you murmur.
Eren fights the urge to sigh. “Sorry, not up for debate.’’ He saves himself the trouble and orders for you both, knowing you’ll feel hungry once you see him eat.
When the food arrives, you end up wanting exactly what Eren ordered for himself.
‘’You’re a big baby.’’ he sulks and rolls his eyes, but feeds you nonetheless. You don’t miss the look on his face as you take a bite from his hand. One thing about Eren? he can and will fuck multiple times a day if you let him.
‘’down, boy. i’m not tryna have my guts rearranged after eating food.’’
He grins, ‘’I didn’t say anything’.’ knowing he’ll do exactly that when you’re done eating.
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revyy-0 · 2 months
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Dr. Jaeger 🤓
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lemmetreatya · 1 year
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librarian!eren who knows he’s being sinful every time he watched you come in; his eyes always drawn to the extensive collection of oversized hoodie and biking shorts you wore.
how librarian!eren quickly realises that you’d only come at vacant hours, where the benches are cleared and the library finds itself void of other occupants — bar librarian!eren of course.
or how you occasionally make conversation with librarian!eren because he’s the only one there. even worse, because he’s a night shift worker and they only need one person on staff for ratio (okay but who the fuck keeps a local library open past six?! — it’s not like this was NYPL for people to be coming in at ungodly hours) but alas, there were budding learners, like you, who always seemed to make good of the toxic hours and used them accordingly.
well, on most nights, that was.
as librarian!eren is packing a few of the return books back to their rightful place, he peaks past a pillar and almost drops the 1st edition fantasy book that was over 150 years old.
because no fucking way were you doing what he thinks you were doing.
automatically he feels his dick jump within his boxers and he panics, because librarian!eren still has four hours of his shift to go — theres no way he could get through it bricked up. for the sake of his own sanity, he has to think chaste thoughts; like cute bunnies and purple frogs.
but no matter how many times he looked and tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, he couldn’t deny your hunched over position, cocked leg perched onto the bench and the sound of petty moans mixed with sizzling vibrations.
librarian!eren thinks to himself how on earth he’s going to go about this. ignore it and save your pride? or enforce justice and escort you out. it doesn’t help that he’s warring within himself but after a heated mental debate, he enters the battle field.
“sorry, but that counts as public indecency.”
and you gasp up at eren, startled, because never did you think you’d ever be caught — especially concerning all the other times you’ve gotten away with it. but now you panic because you couldn’t get a criminal offence to your name, not this term!
but despite that, librarian!eren has a different tactic to how he can implore justice.
someway, somehow, you end up with your toes hovering adjacent to your ears as librarian!eren wets his dick inside your squidgy pussy, his smile demonic as he presses your adorable rose bud to the meaty bean of your clit.
it’s disgusting and it’s weird because at some point you’re begging your local librarian to spit in your mouth and for him to make out with you whilst possessing a cum filled mouth, but he complies all the same. at the end of the day the both of you won.
you tell librarian!eren that you enjoyed the time and would definitely do it again, but apparently you had a thing against the familiarity of second times. either way, librarian!eren doesn’t care. he’s more than happy to go back to doing his work.
librarian!eren can’t believe what’s transpired tonight, but either way, he knows it wasn’t no scenario any book could make up.
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cottonconnielvr · 9 months
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if you’re still doing requests— can you do when plug!connie gets out of jail?
i gotchuuu guys 🫶🏾
WARNINGS ✩ — floor sex, stair sex, oral (fem receives), overstimulation, honestly not my best writing n i don’t rlly like this 😐
DT(S) ✩ — @undevidedattentionsblog @xocherishxo @tthatkidmimi @nydascienceguy
part one.
Your body was pressed against the cold marble floor. Your nipples were hard and sensitive.
Connie’s buff tattooed arm was wrapped around your neck, holding you in a chokehold. His body laid on top of yours, covering you almost completely. His cock was buried inside your wet hole, thrusting relentlessly.
He used his strength to push you back on his dick. He had no choice but to make you take it all because you kept running away from him,which he hated.
You and Connie didn’t get to make it to the bedroom before he ripped all of your clothes off. He already ate you out in the parking lot after he was released to you, giving you crazy back shots as well. On the way home he fingered you will you drove, almost causing three accidents.
You knew how much Connie missed you, but you weren’t prepared for how rough he was about to fuck your shit up.
You struggled to breathe as Connie was knocking the breath out of you with his hard thrusts. You ass bounced back in ripples after Connie shoved his hips deeper inside you.
“F-fuck. Why you keep running from me mama, hmm? I thought you missed me” Connie whined and panted heavily in your ear, licking the side of your cheek.
“I….” You attempted to say but your sensitive cunt was getting absolutely wrecked.
“Hmm, you missed me baby?” Your hand reached out infront of you, trying to get a grip on the ground.
You nodded your head in pleasure, biting your lip as Connie rolled his hips into you. “Mmm i’m gonna c-cum again..” you whimpered into Connie’s bicep.
Your body tensed, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Connie moaned in your ear. “Fuckkk I needed this so bad mami. I haven’t made you feel good in sooo long. It’s all my fault baby im so sorry” Connie rambled with his eyes rolled back, absolutely pussy drunk.
Connie could feel his sensitive cock pulsing.
“Cum wimme” Connie mumbled into your ear. You could feel your legs go numb as they shook. Connie practically humped you, trying to get as deep as he could.
“F-fuck” Connie cried out as you clenched around his length. His cum squirted deep inside you, followed by your cunt releasing your cum.
The living room was filled with your heavy breaths. You took the time to realize that you were still on the floor , right infront of the front door. Your clothes scattered on the floor, panties thrown over the couch.
Connie slide out of you with a whimper, watching cum slowly ooze out. It was such a filthy sight to see.
You jumped, feeling Connie’s hand slap your ass. You had so much you wanted to say to him. He was finally home.
But with the way your guts were rearranged, it was so hard to speak. Before you could process your recent orgasm, you felt Connie pick you up. Like instinct you wrapped your legs around his waist.
You squeezed your arms around his neck, so happy he was here. The silence was somewhat comfortable. You and Connie mentally agreeing to just live in this moment.
As Connie walked up the stairs, you felt his still hard cock slip into your dripping hole. You immediately clenched around him, causing Connie to pause on the middle of the steps.
You winced due to how sensitive you were. You could feel Connie’s hands on your thighs, slowing bouncing you up and down.
You let out a groan of frustration, he can still keep going?
“Constancee ” You gasped out.
“Yeah ma? It feels good” His lips glide over yours as he turns towards the rail, letting you lean on it.
His thrusts pick up, his cock hitting you right in your cervix.
“ohh my g…” you bite your lip, holding onto Connie.
“S-shittt. you feel so good” Connie’s eyes roll back as his tip kisses that one spot.
You can feel your stomach start to clench already, you eyes tearing up again from overstimulation.
“Fuck daddy mm gonna cum again” you moan out as you feel the knot snap. Connie continued thrusting until you squirted, squirting his cook out. Connie held onto you as you covered his stomach in your wetness. “Damn” Connie mumbled to himself.
Your legs were shaking, completely loosing strength around Connie’s waist.
“I gotchu ma” Connie carried you to your bedroom. He took time to look around. You changed most of the decorations in the room, pictures of you and Connie all around the room. Connie laid you down on the bed before spreading your legs open and taking his place between them.
“You’ve came so much baby” Connie laughs as he lightly circles his finger around your clit. You jumped at his touch. “Please no more. I can’t take anymore daddy. Just let me please you” You reached your hand down to get his attention.
Connie interlocked his fingers with yours , shaking his head. “No I left you. I haven’t pleased you. I need to make up for it all. I need to make you feel so good” His soft hands ran up and down your thighs, softly kissing your inner thigh.
His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking lightly. Your other hand reached down to push his head away but he only pushed your hand away.
He flicked his tongue on your clit, drowning in your wetness and moans.He rubbed two fingers up your slit before slowly pushing them in, curling them upwards.
“Go ahead and moan for me sweetie,” Connie fastened the pace of his fingers. “Let me know i’m making you feel good”
Your toes curled, body stilling for a moment. Connie slightly jumped at the sudden liquid that splashed against his face. Fuck he really had you so touch deprived. You were cumming faster than you ever had before.
Connie licked you once more before coming up to your face.
Connie sloppily kissed your sticky lips, his tongue sliding against yours.
“Fuck in the shower?”
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sincerlycas · 1 year
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handle that.
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summary: plug eren takes his girl out to the mall after working overtime for the past days but gets into a run in and y/n gets the repercussions.
warning: plug eren, bad bitch y/n, black y/n, drugs, gun, toys, backseat sex, slight rough sex, full nelson, mature scenes, etc.
don’t forget to dm me for commissions <3
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see one thing eren hated more than anything was being away from his girl for too long. it’s not like he wanted to be away from his favorite lady but he has a job and it’s a supply and demand thing. driving towards your apartment eren thought of what he should get you as an apology. not only was he not able to be with you but he was also ignoring your texts.
he was being bombarded with texts from clients and suppliers that he really couldn’t even sit for a second to send you a simple hey. but not today, today he was going to hang out and spoil his girl no matter what.
“hey mamas give me a kiss” leaning forward to give him a quick peck after seating in the passenger seat the turning your body away from him while fixing your skirt. “really y/n?” gripping your face eren turned you to look at him in the eyes. “mamas you know I’ve been working overtime there’s no need to act like this.” rolling your eyes you moved his hand off your face and looked out the window. “so busy you can’t even text a bitch ‘good morning’ ‘how are you’ ‘i love you’ or a simple ‘I won’t be able to text much I’m working overtime’ ?!” turning your head to look at him with a mean mug. you knew he was working so he could be able to spoil you like he always has but you still wanted his attention is that so hard?!
“y/n now you’re acting like a brat because you know damn well I didn’t have the time too so shut this shit down right now before you have sum coming for you. and put on the damn seatbelt imma take you shopping.” starting the car eren shook his head knowing you had every right to act how you acted but he wasn’t putting up with it today. biting your lip you grabbed the seatbelt and buckled up listening to him because quite frankly you loved when he spoke like that.
feeling a hand on your thigh you turn to look down at see eren rubbing between your thighs comfortably. rubbing his hands you look at the tattoos he had on them one specifically being a red inked tattoo of your birthdate located on his middle finger which was sporting your guys matching promise rings. “mamas you know id never deliberately ignore you.” stopping the car in the mall parking lot eren turned to rub the side of your face with his thumb while his hand rubbed the back of your neck.
“mhm” nodding your head you rubbed his arm as you leaned forward over the console and gave him the kiss he wanted. “atta girl” slapping your ass eren pulled back from the kiss and got out the car and helped you out and walked into the mall hand in hand with you.
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“where to next ma?” holding bags from Chanel to Gucci eren carried them as he followed you mindlessly to each store you wanted to go to. “hmm how bout Sephora?” turning around to face him catching him staring at your ass you laughed. “nigga are you even listening to me?” looking up at you eren let out a hm? which told you your answer. “I said let’s go Sephora pa” hooking your arm with his you leaned your head on his shoulder as y’all continued walking with each other.
“y/n?! that you?!” turning around to see who called you and spot it was one of the guys you used to hang with but dropped him since he was acting weird. “oh hey jay” waving hi at him then turned on your heel to walk away but was interrupted by Jay stopping you and asking for a hug. you didn’t think nothing of it because you guys did used to hang with each other. giving him a hug as he asked but then you felt a large slap on your ass and two hands gripping it. “damn your ass still fat like I remembered”.
before you could let a word out eren punched the guy right in the face while you were still hugging him causing the guy to fall back while letting you tumble to the side. “eren- .” trying to stop eren by grabbing his shirt to which he moved you aside and grabbed ol boy and slammed him on the wall. “who tf you think you touchin like that huh?” landing another blow to his face eren gripped Jay by the collar not letting up. “m-my bad man I ain’t know” “you ain’t know? you didn’t see her holding onto me the whole time or what?” eren pressed the guy harder into the wall causing any bystanders to be blinded from what he was finna do.
pressing the cold gun against the guy’s abdomen eren looked at him straight in the eye “you gone apologize to her then you gone get tf on and speak nothin of this igh?” nodding frantically Jay moved aside and went to apologize to you then jogged off.
shocked you looked at eren who was grabbing your bags then went and grabbed your hand as well exiting the mall with you and making you guys hop back in the car.
starting the car eren stayed silent while you tried to process what happened. “eren wtf is your issue, I know what that guy did was wrong but you shouldn’t have caused a major scene like that if you were there for a second later you could’ve gotten arrested-“
“y/n does it look like I give a fuck about that shit right now?”
jerking your head back at his words you pushed the side of his head not giving a fuck if he was driving. “nigga remember who the fuck you talking to cuz I’m not the one remember that.” automatically after saying that eren swerved the car around and headed towards a empty parking lot nearby the house and parked. “get in the back y/n.” eren unbuckled his seatbelt and turned towards you waiting for you to talk back to him again, to which you did.
“ion even know why you’re acting like this bruh you’re trippin” rolling your eyes you sat down still. “y/n another man just slapped your ass but I’m supposed to be akeke ajaja? fuck no, let alone the fact you literally hugged his ass knowing why the hell you dropped him in the first place. you’re not fucking innocent so stop fucking playing with and get your ass in the fucking back !!”
staring at eren you saw how angry he seemed and decided to let him win this time because you knew If you kept trying him it would just get worse. “mmcht” sucking your teeth at him you took off your heels and moved into the back. while sitting down with your arms crossed, you stared at eren through the car mirror to which he looked back while lighting a blunt and began speaking while staying in his spot in the drivers seat. “mamas- I buy you shoes, dresses, jewelry, I pay for your nails and hair, I fuck you good, I cater you with everything and all I ask is for you to listen to me without running that spoiled ass mouth of yours and you can’t even do that” taking a inhale from the blunt while leaning his head back.
“that’s fine because that ends today imma teach yo ass a lil sum.”
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that lil sum he was referring to was making you go through misery. “keep them legs spread or imma make hold your nut.” currently you were ridded from your skirt and your back leaning against the car door with your legs spread wide and cunt on display. “fuckkk~ eren please~” eren held a black bullet vibrator to your clit on the highest setting while scissoring your hole with two fingers. “please nothing shut that shit up” closing your thighs on his hand while closing your eyes and arching your back off the door shaking from cumming again. “y/n.. I know you didn’t cum without my permission, I’m seeing things right?” slamming your legs back open eren looked down to see you leaking.
“your spoiled slutty ass don’t listen for shit- now look you’re ruining my seats !” taking his fingers out your cunt and sliding them into his mouth while looking at you “you lucky you taste good.” whining you feel eren slide in slowly while putting one of your legs on his shoulder. “f-fuck~ pull some out renn~” pushing his stomach with your hand you teared up from how much pressure was being put on your g-spot and right after your orgasm. “move your hand move your mf hand.” slapping your hand from his stomach and dragging you to lay fully on the seat he wasted no time and thrusting into you harshly while holding onto one of your tits.
“e-erennn~!! give my pussy a breakk~” moaning loudly into his ear as he laid on top of you gripping the car door behind you pounding down into your hole with no chance of slowing down. “don’t act like you can’t take dick mamas, I’ve trained this pussy more than enough for you to be acting like you can’t , so you can stop acting up and take daddy’s dick?” biting your lip while wrapping your legs around him and nodding your head yes.
smiling down at you eren fixed your hair to move it away from you face and kissed you and sucked on your bottom lip “you’re so gorgeous mamas especially when you spread out for me like this.” kissing the side of your face eren leaned up off you and bringing both your legs to rest on one shoulder and started hitting deeper than before while pinching at your clit and occasionally adding the vibrator onto it.
“ohh shittt~!! eren n-no more~!! I can’t take it anymore~” pushing against his chest while squirting up onto his stomach and your thighs. laying there huffing and puffing eren watched as your eyes rolled in the back of your head while you squirted and smiled.
“alright I’ll give you a break ma, but when we get to that house you better be ready”.
fixing his clothes before he got out the car eren made it back to the driver seat but not before he shoved another vibrator into you and tied your hands together with his belt to prevent you from taking it out. the whole ride home all eren heard was muffles of his name and moans and those sounds were better than any song being played in the radio.
upon arriving to the house eren covered you with a blanket and took you out the car and carried you to the room. “t-t-take it out~” laying down on the bed naked and legs spread wide open with the vibrator still buzzing inside you. “why should I? I’m still not done punishing you because I know right after this is over you’re gonna still act like a spoiled bitch.” squeezing at your thighs eren leaned over you and took the belt off you hands and sucked at you nipples. “I p-promise I won’t, I’ll be good~”
chuckling at your words eren licked his lips and tugged at your nipple. “you’ll be good mamas?” “I’ll be good daddy” “that’s nice to hear ma but imma still fuck this pussy of yours up.”
biting your lip and tearing up knowing your pussy is going to be domestically abused.
today eren was feeling a little different so while putting the lit blunt back between his lips he put you in a full nelson and started fucking up into you with no mercy ! “o-o-omggg~!! why are you fucking me like thisss~!!” arching your back off him you squirted yet again while shaking on him. reaching his hand in front of you he quickly rubbed your clit in harsh circles to prolong your orgasm. “don’t act like you don’t know why- fuckkk~ I’m cumming~” gripping onto your neck and jackhammering up into your cunt eren cummed inside then calmed down after. taking the blunt of his mouth and blowing the smoke into your face eren spoke “you gone behave now?” nodding frantically not wanting to continue with your pussy being sore.
“that’s what I thought, try me again and imma handle that.”
commission for: @spaceforher
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pwncez · 7 months
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꒰ྀི 𝒯𝒲𝒪 𝒲𝒪𝐿𝒱𝐸𝒮 & 𝒜 𝐿𝒜𝑀𝐵 ꒱ྀི
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🔔 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐟   ۫ ⊹ ᳝ ࣪   11.7k word count , established poly relationship , black fem reader [ she ノ her prnz ] , bratty reader , daddy doms eren + ony , mentions of reader being little [ not physical , more of a personality thing ] , not mentioned age gap [ reader is 21 , eren + ony are 25 ] , physically ill reader , dacryphilia , spanking as punishment , oral sex [ all receiving ] , eren has a dick piercing , kinda mean doms eren + ony , slight degradation , one [ 1 ] facial slap , pet name usage [ ex. mama, ma’, baby, pa’, papa ] , daddy kink , anal . [ prequel ]
milkie’z note to you .ᐟ   ۫ ⊹ ᳝ ࣪   dis took a leetol while but it is here :3 n i hope u luvvv . minors + ageless blogs do not interact !
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you feel it the moment your lashes flit, aiding in the movement of your heavy lids opening so that your fuzzy eyesight can gradually begin to focus.
a few feet away from the california king sized mattress your body lolls upon, the curtains have been tugged just the slightest bit open, allowing you to make out the elegant, refined crystals of ice that are devised along the windowpane — frosted and powdery. snow.
tick . . tick . . tick.
you inhale an extensive breath through your nose, or at least, you try to. only a silver of air is able to enter your diaphragm, in addition to when swallowing, a thick burn substitutes the usual smooth ease within the duct of your throat.
no. no, no, no, no, no.
you huff, lifting your upper half by stretching out your arms and resting some weight on your palms. an immediate aching, dull sting begins to throb at the surface near both of your temples.
you had felt it throughout the night before while your body relaxed and renewed — the sickness, the pain, the irritation. you’re climbing out of bed with a scowl painted on the petals of your lips, palming your head and squinting while walking slowly towards the bathroom. the cotton of the oversized tee you wear is airy and thin. it belongs to one of your boyfriends you’re sure and usually you’re ecstatic to don something so loose and comfy to bed, especially a piece of clothing belonging to one of them, however . . it feels uncommonly itchy today.
makes you whine and hurry to snatch it off over your head and toss to the floor as you sit on the toilet, emptying your full bladder.
you’re left in nothing but your skimpy, little panties as you brush your teeth — movements sluggish and slow as the pounding in your head only seems to get worse upon the illumination of the warm, bathroom lighting shining down onto you.
your fist smashes against the light switch with more force than necessary to shut it off as you spit out a mouthful of teal, minty flavored foam into the sink, hazily watching frothy bubbles swirl into a curlicue across shining, white porcelain and down the drain. distantly, you wish it could’ve been you — whirling away, into inevitable darkness and quiet, if even for a day.
your electric, pink toothbrush is plopped back into the holder, right between a black and blue one.
you don’t need to look as you snatch your satin, fur trimmed, rosy colored robe from off of the bathroom door’s hook. your footsteps drag against cool, dark mahogany as you lug your tired body downstairs and while you’re holding onto the rail of the wide spiral staircase that opens up into the large opened area of the living space and kitchen, you’re suddenly aware that you had left your plush, teddy bear, house slippers up within the bedroom.
your toe is touching the landing upon the realization . . .
within the open designed kitchen, standing in front of the electric stove while flipping a thick piece of french toast in a skillet is eren.
you catch his eye first and you notice how a large smile instantly spreads itself across his soft lips at the sight of you. “and the princess arrives,” he richly sings.
at the sound of dragging feet, ony turns around from where he rummages within the fridge. it only takes them both a second to notice your current state. “awe, baby girl.” ony’s rounding the island where you take a seat at to gather your face within his hands. one holds you by the bottom of your jaw, your face planted within that area between his thumb and index while the other touches your forehead.
you’re frowning, physical contact usually your favorite way to be shown adoration and love, not appreciated today. you pull your face away from his touch, mewling.
ony doesn’t take too much offense to it, “you’re sick, ma’.”
“yeah, no shit.”
while you sniffle and snatch a paper towel from the roll to dab your dripping nose dry, a swift look is shared between eren and ony. to a stranger, it would’ve been seen as just a glance, however, you’ve known both men for too long. you take heed of eren’s obscure eyebrow twitch and ony’s responding furrowed ones.
they don’t like you cursing, you know this, howbeit, ony decides to give you a pass. the golden glow that seems to habitually reside within your skin has been paled, your eyes are heavy and sunken in, and your body shivers even while the heater within the highrise loft you all share sits at seventy six. you look like you hadn’t got a lick of sleep, although both eren and ony had been on either side of you the entire night.
“fuck, lemme go check if we have some tylenol or something.”
before eren can move, you’re shaking your head, “i checked already,” you huff. “there’s none or dayquil or robitussin. we don’t even have fucking vicks.”
ony folds his arms, “language,” his voice, deep and quiet, utters out. “this is your third time getting sick within ten weeks. ‘m sure you used it all up two weeks ago when you caught a fever.”
he’s right. he’s always right and while on better days, you appreciate that — his wisdom and intelligence — today, you just want to shove him away and bury yourself in a hole to keep from hearing that familiar lilt in his voice as he proves you wrong once more.
you heavily sigh, leaning your temple on your palm and that elbow on the cool island counter, turning away from him.
ony pushes himself back upright, leaning in to kiss your head while rounding the counter once more, “we’ll pick up some medicine today while we’re all out.”
“we’re all?”
you’re tired. your body aches, your head pounds, and you can’t breathe without sounding as though you’ve ran ten miles. you don’t want to even step a foot outside of your front door.
eren’s dusting powdered sugar across two pieces of french toast, cookie cut into hearts, that lay beside two patties of chicken sausage and scrambled eggs sprinkled with warm cheese and green onions. “yeah, mama,” he retorts softly, aware of your headache. “we both gotta go check on our shops and you have that meeting with your dean, hm. plus, you mentioned something about, uh—“
ony fills in when eren can’t exactly remember, “—you needing to go to that bookstore across town.”
goodness.
they’re right. you’ve been searching all throughout the web for a textbook needed for an important class this semester and while it’d been seemingly wiped from the internet or being sold by scalpers looking to make a profit of five times the amount of which they bought it for, you managed to finally find the book in stock at a quaint, little bookstore about forty minutes out from where you all lived.
you plop your head into your arms, feeling the common sensation of warm tears burning as they rise to the surface of your eyes. “hey, none of that,” eren makes you lift your head so that he can peck your lips. you grumble, swiftly turning your head when he pushes in for another one so that it lands upon the chub of your cheek.
“ ‘m gonna go eat in the living room.”
while usually you chirp a sweet ‘ thank you, papa ‘ and sit between the two men during breakfast, today, you grab your plate and slide out from your stool until your feet meet the floor. it’s as though you purposely drag the soles of them all the way to the family room area, knowing just how ony felt about that particular sound, until you make it towards the settee.
onyankopon thinks he feels his eye twitch.
he doesn’t say anything until the sound of bubbles, blossom, and buttercup’s voices playing from the heavy bass sound bar of the television is able to drown out the volume of his. “i know i’m not fuckin’ trippin’.”
“chill,” eren chuckles. he replaces your seat at the island, slowly chewing on a piece of sweet strawberry.
“nah, pa’, fuck that—“
“—you already know how she is when she’s sick,” while raking a hand through the waved, shoulder length tresses of his hair, eren pauses midway to scratch his scalp. even he doesn’t seem to confident in his words. “plus it’s still morning. let her shake it off.”
ony doesn’t do well with attitudes. not from you, not from eren, he doesn’t even tolerate them from himself. he gives a swift suck of his canine, side eyeing you before taking a generous bite of his toast. “she’s on strike one—“
“—already?” eren smacks his lips. “c’mon, man—“
“—i’m telling you right now, her lil ass is on strike one, eren.”
not always, however often the mediator between you both, eren takes a look at you over his shoulder. you sit upon the middle cushion of the u - shaped bellini sofa. you look so small from where him and ony stand — sweet and cute. “she’ll get it together,” he mumbles. “just be patient.”
when breakfast is done and the dishwasher is loaded, the three of you begin your own routines of getting ready. being that ony had already showered hours ago after his six am run, he only needed to slip into his fit which’d been a pair of thick, black sweats, a plain tee, black puffer coat, and his ‘ black cat ‘ fours, while you and eren washed up together. he also took it upon himself to put together the both of your ensembles, as well.
eren in a grey hoodie, black northface coat over it, and black cargos with a carhartt beanie and you, not owning a single pair of pants, in a pair of thick leggings whose shade matched beautifully with your skin tone, knitted pink skirt, and matching, heavy coat whose hood had been rimmed with fur.
that nasty scowl still rests upon your pretty face come you exiting the steamed bathroom with eren in tow. onyankopon can’t help but notice the defeat that shines clear across his boy’s face, albeit, still and all, he lets his words echo between his ears. ‘ just be patient. ‘
“c’mere,” he orders you softly. this is an everyday routine, him or eren lathering cream upon your body then dressing you up.
you pause midstep within the middle of the room, “. . i can do it—“
“—i didn’t ask you, ma’. i said, come here.”
you puff out your cheeks, frowning, allowing your feet to carry you to where ony sits upon the edge bed. he widens his legs to pull you in closer and you watch him drizzle your favorite birthday cake scented lotion within the cup of his heavy hand.
he begins the process at your leg, easy and slow, making you lift your little foot to rest upon his knee so that he can massage the moisturizer within the sole of it, up your calf, then thigh. quietly, he repeats the same to your other leg, then atop of your butt, your hips, tummy, arms — he doesn’t leave an inch of you untouched.
ony regards how you fight the urge to relax. your muscles would ease before you were tensing up again. and his eyes continuously look up into yours, gauging it all, trying to figure you out. what’s got his baby so upset? aside from you being sick was it another physical pain? mental? emotional? he watches you merely stare back down at him, all mean and viscous — you’re about as intimidating as a baby bun.
he doesn’t want to pressure you into telling him what was wrong. you don’t feel good, he’s aware, but he knows something deeper lies within that excuse. it shines bright within the deep brown of your eyes, clawing to reveal itself. “leg,” he mumbles, opening up your underwear. it’s white and cotton, little pink bow snug upon the trim of it in front. you stick one foot through the hole then the other, feeling him pull it up until it fits upon your hips. “good girl.”
a chill runs up your spine — warm and thick. you sniff, swiping your finger underneath your nose. eren notices from where he stands a few feet away while layering his jewelry.
he adjusts his watch upon his wrist as he walks over to the nightstand, sliding open the drawer to pluck a few kleenexes out from the box inside. “hm.” you hear his voice, you feel his body behind yours and watch his arm stretch out into your vision. “blow.”
you’re grumbling underneath your breath while leaning your face toward his hand that holds the napkins, inhaling a breath before huffing out some air through your nose. mucus shoots out, thick and viscid, consistency similar to honey. you grimace in disgust, turning your face away after two more.
“good job, baby,” eren sighs, sparing a quick glance at the mess.
yeah, you’re sick alright.
he tosses the dirtied napkins away, padding to the bathroom to wash his hands while ony zips up your coat. “you doin’ your make up today or no?”
you don’t answer his question, only push him away to go to the corner of the room where your vanity resides and take a seat.
not talking. he wants that to be strike two, he desperately does, nonetheless, he knows he’s getting a little bit ‘ palm ‘ happy and being unfair. he’ll consider it strike one and a quarter.
voice quiet, eren asks, “which car are we taking?” while adjusting a few silver rings on his tatted fingers.
ony takes a look at him — from the low bun that sat at the nape of his neck under his beanie, tatted neck, to the blinding white forces on his feet. he doesn’t have to say anything, he simply stands to walk over, not caring much about catching him off guard when grabbing him by his neck to pull him in for three soft pecks. “y’look good,” he mumbles onto the sweet skin of his lips. he tastes the vanilla of his chapstick — sugary and cloying. “we takin’ my car.”
he hears eren groan, quiet and soft, “keys,” he mutters against ony’s own.
“pocket . . get ‘em out.”
eren sucks his teeth, slipping his hand down the pocket of ony’s sweats, watching his boy slowly begin to smile over his bottom lip. “y’feel ‘em?”
he doesn’t answer his question, merely slips the ring of the keys onto his index finger, not missing the hardening rod of his cock, jumping against his palm. “you a fuckin’ menace, man.”
you take your sweet time completing your make up routine, switching out your purses, putting on your leg warmers and boots — nevertheless, both men remain considerate and forbearing. eren gathers you into his side, throwing his arm over your shoulder to pull you in for a forehead kiss while you all walk down the quiet hall towards the elevator and yet, you remain stoic, arms folded and face even. “you look pretty, baby.”
“mm.”
eren rolls a piece of the inside of his jaw between his molars, “. . wanna sit in front—“
“—back.”
you slink yourself away from his side, quickening your steps to brush past them both. given all of your quips and smart comments, a seed of dread plants itself right within the base of your stomach at the scan of eren’s working jaw and heavy lidded gaze. you’re aware that it takes a bit more to drive the brunet up a wall. while ony’s a ticking time bomb, always three seconds from exploding, eren’s temper is more of the beginnings of a trickling stream of water before a tidal wave.
both frightening, both gut wrenching — one more monstrous and rare.
still, you shake off that fear when you’re seated in the set behind the passenger, head leaned upon the cool glass of the window.
eren’s tattoo shop is only a twenty minute drive from the condo. you’re a hair away from drifting off into that placid swithered state of consciousness and not when you hear the unbuckle of seatbelts.
“c’mon, baby.”
you whine. ony’s blacked out range rover has seat warmers and a reclining option — you’re comfortable. “no, i wanna stay here.”
eren’s pulling open your door not more than a second later. a sharp, bone chilling wind flies over your body, sending your teeth chattering and aching legs curling. he’s leaning over inside of the truck to unbuckle your seatbelt for you, dodging your squirms and shoves all the while, “i don’t know how long i’m goin’ to take in here. you gotta come.”
you’re snatching away from him come his hand taking yours. you all but slam the car door when you’re out, not missing the chance to glare directly into onyankopon’s dark eyes as you do so, then you’re stomping your little feet up the cemented ramp that leads to the door of eren’s shop.
“that’s her second strike.”
a low chime signals your entry. you utter soft hi’s toward mikasa, sasha, and armin on your way towards the back where you know eren’s office is.
nobody misses the extra weight in your steps and how quick you do so. looks are passed between the employees and all is silent, aside from the dull buzz of machines whirring, until ony and eren are stepping inside, dusting snow off of their coats.
“what did the two of you do to her?”
mikasa’s eyes are slitted with her rising suspicion. never has she seen you so irked. you’re normally a sweet, little thing — offering them homemade pastries and pretty charm bracelets beaded with their nicknames. you don’t normally brush past them so quickly.
“not a damn thing,” eren releases a heavy breath.
ony chimes in a quiet, “yet,” while plopping down within the leather seat near beside the door.
sasha hums from her stall near back, eyes focused on the piece she works on in efforts to get her shading precise, “baby girl looks about ready to kill someone.”
ony scoffs, adjusting his sox cap atop his head, “lil ass can’t even swat at a fly let alone kill somebody.”
chuckles fill the room.
“no, no, wait. she’s so little.”
“fuckin’ tiny thing.”
“and she’s walkin’ around huffin’ and puffin’ like she ‘bout some’n.”
you hear them all. your nails impale into the fleshy meat of your palms as you sit at eren’s desk, jaw clenched. the utter disregard of your feelings not only makes tears fizz up the rim of your eyes, however, goes straight to your heart which pangs a sharp zing and shoots up more rushing blood to agitate your migraine further. you just want your bed.
sniffling, you lay your head down upon the desk, closing your eyes to block out the built in ceiling lighting. you can hear a set of footsteps padding towards the room. you keep your eyes shut.
it’s the both of them.
you can smell eren’s cologne — rich and woodsy — and hear the material of onyankopon’s coat rubbing as he moved his arm.
“jus’ leave her,” eren mumbles. you hear him powering up the apple computer in front of you then the mouse rolling. “i gotta check these invoices.”
you move your head, creaking your eyes open. he leans over you, one hand on the back of the large chair you sit in and the other directing the mouse here then there across the desk. the blue light of the computer illuminates the handsome features of his face and you take heed of his eyes, a gorgeous teal, leaning towards a more mossy green, darting across the screen. his face is focused and you notice how he nibbles along the inside of his bottom lip which makes his dimples play peek a boo within his cheeks.
when your congested sniffle rings through the quiet room, you quickly shut your eyes again before eren can catch you staring.
ony’s voice is quiet when he says, “we gotta pick her up some soup. i know her fuckin’ throat is killing her.”
“yeah, duke’s? — on the corner of rose and lakewood — shit has the best wild rice and mushroom soup. think it also helps detox.”
“mm, for real? we’ll get her that then.”
it doesn’t take eren long to answer a few emails, send in invoices, take a call, then lock his computer. you’re back nuzzled within your seat in the car by the time the clock strikes eleven forty five.
periodically, ony glances at you through the rear view mirror while he drives, noting how you had your body turned towards the door and hood pulled up over your head. he can’t see your face . . and that irks him. he’s sure this will sound selfish of him, but for so many suns, the only things able to soothe him, motivate him, keep him going has been both yours and eren’s faces — your features pretty and delicate in your own respected ways. in ways he can’t describe, when he gazes at you both, ony all but wants to give you the entire world.
you know when you arrive at his auto and detailing shop when you hear connie’s voice at the window.
“fuck you doin’ here, bossman?”
the car settles in park as ony frees himself from the seatbelt, “gotta check on y’all niggas and pick up some shit. aye, where’s braun?”
his voice fades away once he gets out of the car and heads toward the interior of a garage. you curl in closer within your seat, letting out a sweet mewl when that ache settled within the tissue of your muscles makes itself known once more. “we’re almost done, mama,” eren sighs. he loathes seeing you like this. “your campus, bookstore, then the pharmacy. couple more stops.”
you groan, “i know, eren.” you don’t need him to remind you that it’s going to be at least two more hours until you’re back home nuzzled within your warm bed.
the brunet rolls his lips within his mouth, contemplating his next choice of words. it’s an inquisitive globe rolling from left to right within his head — left being his more empathetic half come knowing the reaction that’ll sleeve over your attitude if he were to say it, however, the right not caring and wanting to see you choke up. “. . . ‘yan has you on strike two.”
“what?”
you’re lifting your head come the statement pushing past eren’s lips and into the interior of the quiet car, eyes round with shock as your heart staggers on its next beat. eren doesn’t even turn his head over his shoulder to look at you, only unwraps a caramel apple flavored sucker he’d slipped out of his pocket, prior to sticking it within his mouth, “mhm,” he slyly murmurs. “one more and you know what that means . .” and it isn’t always solely ony that calls the strikes, although more aberrant, eren can too.
“. . b-but ‘m sick—“
he shifts his head from left to right. eren had known you’d pull the excuse. the hard candy clicks against his teeth as his tongue moves it about within his mouth, “— don’t matter. i know you’re feeling tired today, pretty girl, but you gotta fix that attitude.”
you want to.
you want to scream and huff and kick and throw a good, old fashioned tantrum because, ironically, you do want to be good. you want that aerial, golden halo above your head each time your boyfriends take a glance of you to remain, however, it’s as though that part of you has taken a leave for the day — you couldn’t find her even if you tried. that golden ring has been reformed into tiny, red pointed horns taken home within the bubblegum pink and black beach waves of your sew in and a thin, forked tail at the base of your back. you huff and fold your arms, returning back to your previous position. “ ‘s not fair.”
it’s not fair.
you want to blame your crankiness on your cold, even so, you know that wouldn’t be true. and at the view of eren pulling out his phone, reclining his seat back, and widening his legs — a lounging position to showcase his content within the situation, that little spark that’s been lit inside of your tummy only flares brighter. your tone is a snap as you hiss, “that’s not fair, eren.”
“mhm.” he ignores your tell tale, beginning signs of a fit to reach inside the middle console where he knows ony keeps a packet of cough drops. the packet crinkles as he slips his hand in, grabs a few, then outstretches his arm behind himself, “here, baby.”
you sneer at his hand, making an entire show of grumbling and droning until you’re opening your own, allowing him to drop them within it.
you don’t know how long ony has you both waiting — you’re only to quietly watch through the window as he moves throughout the lot, admiring the work of an iridescent, pearl wrapped lamborghini, directing an employee there then here, holding a clipboard which he flipped through quickly prior to handing it back into the hands of reiner.
cool melon, eucalyptus, and peppermint oils soothe the channel of your throat as you suckle on a cough drop, watching him stand with his arms folded a few minutes later. his eyes are locked onto the light blond spheres of jean’s own who had been seemingly explaining something while gesturing to a bentley a few garages away.
you notice that the inside of the car is completely barren — the seats have been taken out.
ony’s face is morphing. eyebrows dropping, corners of his lips pulling low, and his chin is tilting the slightest bit higher. tiny pimples rise along the surface of your skin as you regard his demeanor. it’s familiar.
upon eren taking a rendezvous trip with his friends to vegas for two nights without letting either of you know, as soon as he had came home and stepped foot across the threshold, ony had been there — same stature, same facial expression, same guise. and when he begins to speak, jaw grinding and his tone more clear while pointing between the car, jean, and himself, you don’t have to say it because eren already notices, “shit,” he mumbles, looking out towards the scene. “pa’s pissed.”
the conversation ends with jean giving a firm nod, eyes casted not downwards but close enough. you read his lips before he walks off, ‘ i gotchu, boss. ‘
ony rubs a hand down his face, shaking his head for a split second, prior to calling something out to connie then making his way towards the truck.
the edges of your teeth penetrate the now flattened disc of the cough drop laying against your tongue to break it into tiny pieces and you’re swallowing the balm come ony slipping in and then shutting the car door.
“wassup?” the emeralds of eren’s eyes are flicking all over his boy’s face, examining it for a better read of the emotions ony’s too good at concealing. “talk.”
ony shakes his head, smoothly reversing out of the large lot, “nun i cant handle, pa,” he murmurs after a sniff, pressing the resume button located upon the steering wheel to recommence lucki’s leave her softly playing through the speakers.
“nah, quit that,” eren lowers the volume even more. “you always do this shit — let stuff pile up and stress you the fuck out then you come home and hole yourself up in a room, only to blow the fuck up at a pen dropping.”
as big on communicating ony is, when it’s boiled down to himself, he doesn’t hold the same regard. what’re things he wouldn’t put up with from you and eren are some he also does, though doesn’t expect to be nor appreciates being, called out on. it’s an interesting topic to delve into upon you realizing that ony had been the one to really throw himself into learning more about the relationship dynamic you all shared near the first couple months of you all making it official — watched videos, read books and articles the sizes of novels — all efforts unneeded when he plainly stated, ‘ shit is jus’ like monogamous relationships with more communication. we need to communicate above everything else for us to work. ‘
through the corner of your eye, you watch confliction dance upon the handsome features of ony’s face — he takes off his cap, scratches his head, puts it back on, rolls his lips into his mouth, then huffs out a breath through his nose. “that gt s? client wants white interior with grey trimming. was expected to be done by the end of this week, at most, eight days from now, but j put in the wrong request. we have that shit shipped from fucking developers in countries a day ahead of us,” he explains, pupils locked on the road ahead of him. “so now we gotta put in the fucking request again, wait for them to ship the material, have it come here and do what we need to do. shit pushes us out like two weeks, maybe more.”
eren lets himself soak it all in. it’s a stressful situation sure, but, “you said this is a loyal client of yours, right? what, like, this his fifth car bein done by you?” when a confirmation is given, eren relaxes, “. . ‘m not gonna lie, ‘yan, if he wasn’t, you’d be fucked. let him know all this, he should understand.”
the drive to your campus is more quiet than usual. what had been slight conversation and laughter between the two men on the drive to eren’s shop is now tensed. a stranger could see how taut ony appears now, mind elsewhere as he rubs the short hairs hanging from his chin, eyes focused though mind far some place else, while he drives.
you’re a quiet thing come the truck falling into park in front of your university’s administration building. “c’mon, ma.”
it’s a short meeting — you’re congratulated on your achievement on making the dean’s list, told your attendance needs just the slightest bit more work, and aided in the process of choosing which few classes are needed in order for you to receive your degree come the following semester.
“damn,” ony’s mumbling while scanning the sheet of your transcript you’d given him after exiting the office where he and eren sat in the chairs beside. “all a’s, a couple b’s. good job, mama, we gotta get you somethin’.”
the decision between an all expense mall trip or a vacation is screeched into a halt come your rolled eyes and snide comment, “well, duh. ‘m not a fucking dumbass.”
you’re positive that the world goes completely silent.
you had expected a firm ‘ language ‘ or even a quick spank when shielded behind the heavy body of ony’s truck — you’d expected him to be the one to do so, albeit, it’s eren who presses you back against the trunk. your gasp echoes off of the wet, cemented walls within your campus’ near empty underground parking garage.
your eyes are rounded with panic come the hand around your throat, squeezing it. concurrently, eren’s face is completely barren of emotion when he says, “third strike.”
you go to squirm your way out of his hold, wiggling and pushing, however, he’s pressing you closer against the trunk, angling his head down. you’re left to keep yourself still, fear rushing through your veins near the speed of light come the sight of his warm breath being expelled into frigid air as he speaks, foggy and thin, “stop fuckin’ playing with me and get y’lil ass in the car . . now.”
his hold on you is heavy as he directs your steps around the car, to the backseat. you watch him open the door and given your trembling knees and shallow breaths, you’re whining, “eren, quit it,” as you climb in.
“it’s been over three nonstop hours of your smart ass mouth, mama. i’m sick of it. you already know what you in for later.”
you’d thought that he wouldn’t be serious, nonetheless, at the reminder you’re pouting your lips and shaking your head, “w-wait, no, ‘m sorry—”
“—i bet.”
you don’t want to be reminded of your last reprimands — the no touching, the bounding, the spanks.
your tears are a play on their emotions, both men are aware, “i didn’t even do anything that bad today,” you’re mewling come on the drive to the bookshop.
ony glances at you through the rear view’s reflection. he sees your folded arms, pouted, shimmering lips, the fire that still dances beneath your eyes. you never learn your lesson. “sure about that, ma’?” he asks, taking in the way you barely nod as you gaze back at him. “you already know how we feel about that cussin’ shit—“
“—that’s not fair!”
“i’m not bouta explain this shit again ‘cause you already know why,” he calmly retorts, eyes refocused on the road. “you slammin’ doors, stompin’ all over the place, ignorin’ people — and you seriously don’t think you did anything wrong?”
the last syllable of the word is popped as you quip a quiet, “nope.”
“alright.”
ony decides to go that route, too. that oblivious route, that arrogant route. you’re aware both him and eren are men of their word, he doesn’t understand why you’re so keen on pressing a huge, red button on their nerves labeled ‘ don’t touch ‘ — damn near slamming your fists on it, actually.
the bookstore errand is quick and eren goes alone into the pharmacy to pick up your medicine, followed by a vial of vitamins in efforts to build up your clearly fragile immune system.
home is after a soup and tea grab and you purposely drag your feet on the way to the elevator, pouty and mean faced while both men intentionally walk behind you, annoyingly patient.
“don’t make me throw you over my shoulder, mama.”
your bow studded, acrylic topped middle finger acts as a silent reply to eren’s statement. you figure that since you’re already so deep within the pool of their vexation, why not swim out even further?
given the façade of your big and bad girl shield, as soon as the front door to the apartment is open, you’re fighting to make a run for it.
“eek, no!” you’re squealing when eren grabs you by the waist mid sprint and tosses you akin to a lump of produce over the firm hill of his shoulder. “eren, i swear—“ your threat is broken by a coughing fit. the sound of mucus rings clear within everyone’s ears and you’re letting out a harsh sneeze upon your butt being planted in a seat at the island. “y-you both — so mean.”
“shit’s gonna make you drowsy.” onyankopon’s pouring the thick, turquoise colored cough syrup within the small cap provided, disregarding your comment. he fills it to the brim before handing it to you. “swallow.”
you’re obeying, shockingly, turning your nose up and wrinkling your brows come the taste.
“here.”
eren holds out three gummies, pink, orange, and purple, in the shapes of organs — intestines, heart, and lungs. you’re popping them within your mouth quickly to chase the bitter flavor of the medication, needy for the soup that ony begins to grab from within a paper bag. how quick they are to take care of you softens your heart. you wish you’re able to exude that feeling in the forms of your usual kisses and hugs and smiles, nonetheless, you merely grab your bowl of soup to quietly begin to eat without another glance given.
you hear them begin to move around — doors shutting, tv powering on, sighs from the long day being expelled from heavy chests. “fuck do i wanna make for dinner?” eren mumbles from his position in front of the fridge. “wait, nah — yan’?” his voice rises to catch ony’s attention from upstairs.
you can hear him walking towards the landing that overlooks the first floor while mumbling, “yeah?”
“dinner. i want you to make that salmon.”
ony’s soft, dark chuckle makes your heart swoon, “nah, you want me to make?”
eren’s smile makes your tummy swarm with butterflies,“ ‘m not beggin’, man.”
“aight, jaeger,” he utters, stepping away from the railing. “fuck it.”
when you’re done with your soup, eren and ony are both upstairs. the effects of the medicine has already begun to sink in, blurring your sight, lidding your eyes. you’re sniffling as you slowly slug yourself inside of the bedroom where eren sits upon the edge of the bed, cleaning his shoes, and ony showering in the bathroom.
at first sight of you, eren’s softening. he simply can’t help it. you’re too precious, you’re too pretty. given all your whines, you’re still his baby. “c’mere, bug.”
you’re sagging within him when he opens his arms, feeling him plop you down on his lap so that he can pull off your shoes, leg warmers, then the rest of your clothes. it leaves you in your undergarments which you’re comfortable with and you go to crawl underneath the weighted duvet and lay against your pillow, letting the soothing arms of sleep envelop you.
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”did you ever have intercourse in this office?”
”. . . are you serious? ugh — where? . . where . . . . where, dwight?”
”seems like you already know where.”
you wake to the sound of a soft chuckle. it flows through the canals of your ears and compels you to flutter open your eyes, fixing them upon eren whose body lays right beside your own.
your sniffle is the sound that makes him look down at you from his position of being propped up on one, flexed arm. “hey,” he gently mumbles, eyes checking your face for signs of any discomfort. “finally up?”
you give a leisure nod, rolling over onto your back to slowly pull your arms above your head, fingers interlocked, then arch your back upwards.
“big stretch.”
ony turns his head over his shoulder from his position seated at the edge of the bed, wine red durag tied tight upon it, to watch you. you give a long moan as you do so, hearing a few bones crack as they realign themselves more comfortably within your back. eren shifts beside you, moving about until a glass of cool water is being transferred into your hand, “c’mon, drink.”
the world outside is dark and the heavy, white curtains that normally shield the wall of a window beside the bed are wide open. city lights — studs of whites, yellows, blues, and reds glimmer and wispy, grey clouds akin to stretched cotton shift slowly across the skies.
gratefully, you sit up to gulp down the water, releasing a soft sigh when all done.
“good girl.”
you rub your eye with your knuckles as eren sets the glass down upon the nightstand and ony turns himself back forward. “you sleep good?”
“mhm.”
you find yourself reaching over to climb your body atop of the brunet beside you and he lets you. “shit,” you hear the grin in his voice as he starts to rub his hand along your back. “what’s this? . . i thought i was so mean earlier?”
you feel a sweltering burn flourish from your cheeks to your nose. you bury your face into his shoulder, refusing to say a word.
“mm, you get some food, medicine, and sleep in you and now you actin’ right?” eren thumbs with the lace of your underwear and hastily, earlier’s affairs fly through your brain, frame by frame corresponding a montage. “can’t say it doesn’t make sense. ‘s all you ever need now’days, hm?” the door slamming, the swears, the molten heat glowing bright within eren’s eyes as he called out your final strike.
you’re shifting your body to rise up on your palms and look at him, however, eren’s heavy arm is suddenly pulling you back down, not allowing you to move.
“don’t do it,” his utter is delicate. “don’t even try it.”
you kick out your legs come the sound of the tv shutting off. no longer does sound drown out how your breath begins to quicken and the beginning trills of your whimpers. it’s all happening too fast, you need to breathe, “w-wait, wait—“
“—you couldn’t have thought that we forgot, baby girl.”
ony’s tone is soft. it’s adapting that pitch where he speaks to you as if you were nothing but a stupid, little thing who doesn’t know left from right — as if your head had been filled with nothing but glitter and moondust.
eren’s humming, letting his palm slowly slide from your back to the cheeks of your ass. his fingers knead the soft flesh, similar to dough, squeezing and rubbing, occasionally rolling. “was gonna have you write lines, maybe force you to do some housework with no clothes on — take it easy on you, but . .” air is pulled within his mouth through his teeth. a sharp sound is heard followed by the wind whistling as his palm cuts through it to quickly fall down onto the round globe of your left ass cheek. the way you immediately burst into tears is simply delightsome. “at the way you was talkin’ and actin’ today, i knew you wouldn’t have learned your lesson.”
your head is lifted by the back of your neck so that you can face ony who now stands beside the bed. you’re sniffling, sweet brown eyes laminated with tears, “o-ony . . ‘rennie, please.”
“you beggin’?” he’s smiling over his bottom lip, teeth white and flawlessly aligned. “awe, shit. she’s beggin, baby.”
eren lets another swat fall. you squeak, hands instinctively reaching out to cover your skin from another. “wanna move ‘em or do we have to hold ‘em—“
“—m-move, i’ll . .” you swallow, shaking your head. you don’t want that. “i’ll move them, ‘rennie.”
ony lets you go, allowing your face to fall back inside the pocket of eren’s neck. you hear him murmur something about ‘ lube ‘ and the simple word signals your toes to curl because you’re aware of the harsh, blissful decadence you’re sure to endure come only minutes from now.
“no counting,” eren mumbles against your ear. “gonna stop when i feel like you’ve had enough.”
the spanks he rains down on your ass are nothing short of cruel and quick. unlike ony, eren doesn’t have a rhythm. he doesn’t subject you to alternate hits upon each cheek at a steady clip, no, he’d swat three against your right, two on your left, one near that pretty cusp where your thigh and ass met, then another near the inside of it.
you’re sobbing, pulling at the hold his singular hand that the both of your wrists eventually find themselves locked into.
your skin stings — it burns with the onslaught of a calloused palm employing just enough strength to blossom bruises upon the gentle canvas.
midway, eren lifts up and swings his legs to plant his feet on the floor, leaving you laid over his lap. the position makes it easier to keep your squirming under control. he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wanted to watch the way the brown, plump orbs of your ass recoil and bounce back with each hit, too. “awe,” his chuckle shakily breaks the syllables of the word. your weeps underlying the thick smacks of skin on skin were absolutely adorable. “you can take it, my love. ‘s what you wanted. this had to be what you’ve been needin’.”
you hate his words because you’re aware that there’s a tiny shred inside of you that knows they’re true. with each jewel shelled tear that manifests from the rinds of your eyes and drips down your sweet cheeks is a stress relieved. as you tense with each hit, you also melt against him, weakening, and your mind drains just a bit more along with it.
“mmm,” eren’s voice is a deep hum as he pauses for a moment to roll your warm ass against his palm. “there you go.”
he lands another spank, watching your body jolt. you no longer fight, only cry.
“spread her.”
ony’s voice is similar to a bucket of cold water being splashed against you after a week of baking in a sauna. you feel eren release your wrists, prior to your hips being yanked up to assemble you onto your knees, back curved in. “that‘s right,” ony’s mumbling as the familiar cap of a bottle opening rings inside of your ears. “lift that ass up.”
when rough hands are spreading you open, you’re whining, trying to get a look at what was happening though all you were able to see was eren’s bare, tatted arms holding you and ony standing behind. “w-wha’ — daddy, wait—“
“—spit on it, baby,” he’s mumbling to eren.
a glob of warm saliva is shot onto the tight, winking hole of your ass before being rubbed in with a thumb. both sensations induce a warm shiver that takes over your spine, provoking your fingers to grip the sheet underneath you. “mhm,” a sleeker finger, a rougher one, does the same before it begins to sink inside, nice and slow. you whine, clenching, kicking out your feet.
both men watch how your hole swallows the digit greedily, all the way to the knuckle, pulsing around it. ony isn’t impressed. he makes the ring of muscle loosen by stroking his middle finger in and out until he’s able to pushing in his ring right along side of it.
your pussy thumps underneath, little hole leaking out a trickle of translucent sap that thickens into an orb at your clit.
“gon’ fuck that attitude right outta’ you, mama. don’t even worry about it.”
you find yourself pushing back into his hand, dizzy and gone as you whine, “d-don’t have an attitude anymore, pa’.”
another smack to your ass. you whimper.
“yeah, i know.”
eren spits once more, watching the liquid slip between ony’s fingers, only to get pushed inside of you upon an inwards thrust. the way your ass swallows the appendages is prizewinning. it’s shocking because, “when’s the last time we fucked it?”
ony’s eyes are focused on his fingers as he murmurs, “ ‘bout three months ago, right before that fuckin’ halloween party.”
eren thinks he’s drooling come that orb at your clit beginning to lengthen into a sticky, dangling thread between your legs. “mm, shit, ‘s right,” he lets his mind flash him back. “fuckin’ lola bunny costume.”
you had wore nothing but a tiny, cropped basketball jersey with matching shorts whose hemming stopped right after the half cup of your ass. eren thinks it had been the tall, clip in bunny ears and matching ball of fluff that did it for him, contrarily, ony’s undoing had been the thigh high socks.
they had taken you on the floor within the foyer like two rabid animals. you’d been two hours late to the party and couldn’t sit down in fear of wincing in front of the wrong person.
when you’re able to take almost four fingers is when ony and eren let you go. you fall onto your back against the bed, feeling your undergarments being slipped from off of your body after. it leaves you bare, chest heaving, and limbs trembling.
both eren and ony wear nothing but sweats. tatted skin is displayed — black ink against dark brown and olive dusted skin. “bring that ass here.”
when you find yourself in a position that has your head hanging from the ledge of the bed, face only inches away from ony’s groin, you know exactly what to expect. “daddy, be gentle.”
he can’t help but laugh at your statement. the absolute nerve of you. had you been gentle earlier? gentle with your words, your tone, with eren and him? “open that shit.” his cock springs from the inside of his sweats come his thumb pulling down the waistband to rest underneath the heavy sac of his balls. you admire it up close — the dark mahogany of his shaft and the multitude of veins pulsing across it, the dark rouge of his leaky tip where a thick dewdrop of precum sits — it all makes your clit thump, rushing with blood, hardening and swelling.
come your mouth slowly creaking open, ony has to wait until a large enough gap is revealed for him to push himself in. you choke as he groans, eyes rolling back and closing at the feel of your throat spasming. “fuck, ‘s exactly what y’lil ass needed — dick in y’mouth to get that attitude in check.”
he gazes at your plump bottom lip and the way your throat bulges as you swallow him down. you sweetly snivel, pretty fingers lifting to your tits to pinch your nipples between two of them, rolling and pulling.
you feel a weight settle between your legs as two hands force your thighs apart.
soft hair tickles the insides of them as eren leans down to peck a delicate kiss against your clit, watching your pussy greet him with a splurt of warm cream. he hadn’t wanted to give you what was clear you craved so quick, but damn, it’s hard. he can’t help himself come his tongue swiping out for a taste and partaking in that sweet, tangy flavor distinct to only you. he hums quietly, aligning his top lip near the base of your mound while the bottom of his jaw rises up and down as his tongue strokes wetly over your clit, suckling and swallowing.
you whine around ony’s cock, knees bending around eren’s head.
“nah, focus,” he mumbles, wrapping his hand around your throat while his own form a slight hook so that he can begin to rock his dick, smoothly in and out of your mouth. “f-fuck, yes — there you go.” the sight of it drives him mad. you’re taking him so swell — gurgling, slurping, and chugging. the insides of your cheeks are soft while the duct of your throat is tight and ridged. he has to give a little push each time his dick pushes inside to work it through. how such a sweet mouth can fix the nastiest things to say baffles ony completely.
he can tell that this was what you’ve been needing, can tell that all that backtalk was the usual angel in you banging against the charade you’ve put on all day to come out. ony knows she’s not all the way free, nevertheless. you’re not pleading as much as you usually do, there’s no clawing, desperate hands, and high pitched squeals layered under sweet cries of titillation.
when he pulls his dick from your mouth, you don’t beg for it back, only pout.
ony slaps his tip against the plump skin of your lips, over and over. smack. smack. smack. he lets strings of his precum drip over them, your chin, your cheeks, your nose. he wants you to feel degraded — wants you to realize that you can never win the battle against the two of them when it’s heavy sighs and bratty banter as your defense.
you’re whimpering, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed, body twitching and little frown pulling at your lips. you look about two seconds away from tears, ony loves that.
“ima let you handle her, pa’,” he mumbles, swatting a firm enough smack against the side of your face to get you to open your eyes once more. “break her in. make’er cry.”
the smile on his face unnerves you.
“yeah?” eren shoots a blob of spit on your pussy before sliding up to hover above you, one hand pressed into the mattress beside your head, and the other beginning to toy with your clit. “bet.”
with them both above you, you soon begin to fall into your place. “wait—“
“—wait, wait, wait,” eren drones in a low mime of your voice, lifting himself to snatch you in closer. “no more waitin’, baby. you fucked up. if you knew you couldn’t take this shit, you shouldn’t have dished it out.”
he folds you up, firmly pushing your legs until your knees press into the thousand dollar sheets your head lies upon. shoved into a position so callous has you almost eyesight with your own cunt.
you see the way a bead of slick clings onto your lip before beginning a mocking trail down the crease of your thigh. it’s humiliating.
“mm,” eren bites his lip. similar to ony, he doesn’t take his sweats completely off, merely pulls them down just enough to tug his heavy cock out.
your eyes are hazed over as you watch his ruddy tip begin to rock along your slit. those three, little silver barbells, pierced within the mite of skin and running vertically underneath his frenulum induce a needy moan, “daddy, please.”
“quiet.”
he takes his time, using his thumb as a hold to keep his fat crown in place as his cock strokes your clit up and down, up and down. your pretty lashes flutter as you close your eyes and grab hold of your thighs. “yeah,” he hums. waves of his hair fall down over his shoulders, blanketing his face. his eyes appear brighter within the darkened lighting of the room. “lean into it, mama — you feel it?”
“mhm.”
a few feet away, ony pushes open the sliding door so that he can step out onto the balcony. he stands within the threshold, between the platform and the bedroom all in efforts to keep a keen eye on you both while he sparks a blunt he holds between his lips, hand cupped around the flame ignited from his lighter.
he can’t see much — only eren’s flexing back and your little feet but he knows when eren slides inside of you.
you gasp, loud and long, and your toes tense before they curl.
“oh, shit.”
eren groans at the sensation of your walls — grooved, warm, and soppy — hugging the circumference of his cock as he pushes in. you don’t deserve the usual soft, sweet kisses eren’s prone to leaving across your lips and fluff of your cheeks when he has you in a position so vulnerable, no, you deserve his hand wrapped around your throat and the deep, hard thrusts he’s immediately pounding into your cunt as soon as he deems you ready for them.
the way a trickle of drool begins to slip down your face from your opened mouth and your eyes scroll back into your head as you take it shouldn’t be so fucking attractive.
the music of slapping skin, long moans, and squeaky sobs ricochets off of the walls into ony’s ears. he considers weed a wondrous drug — the best of the best. too many times has a blunt saved him from stressing himself out into a stroke, from either dealing with his job, his family, on the occasion, you. he adores it because when the effects of the drug start to catalyze, he’s able to focus on one, or rather tonight, two things only. you and eren.
his eyes hone in on the thick, umber curls of eren’s hair, free from its usual elastic and running down to stop at his shoulders. a gorgeously etched tat of a faceward, teeth baring dragon, bordered with branches of cherry blossoms inks the entire canvas of his back. shades of pinks, reds, whites, and yellows ripple harder and harder the firmer he fucks you.
“move y’fuckin’ hand, ( ❤︎ ).”
despite his words, eren pushes your hand away himself from pressing against the front of his pelvis. your entire body shivers as if you were a withered leaf in the fall. “s-so deep, papa,” you’re mewling, back arching upwards into a semilune as he presses in nice and full once more. feeling his tip tapping at that familiar textured barrier nestled far inside of you, you press at him once more, “unh, t-too deep . . c-can’t take — noo.”
“ ‘s not your decision,” eren takes a moment to stroke his thumb across your bottom lip. he’s pleased to watch your tongue curl around it so that you can pull it further into your mouth when he leans forward and begins to fuck you harder. “f-fuck — pussy’s made for me, hm. bet you know, mmph, better now than to act like that.”
your g spot is found when your legs intertwine around eren’s slim waist so that you’re able to tug him in further. your hips tilt up which allows his pierced tip to begin stroking the roof of your pussy, right up against that magical little button.
tears are immediate. no longer are words capable. what some you do churn in your brain get lost on the brisk trip through your nervous system and out your mouth, leaving nothing but intelligible babbles to leave your lips.
“there we go,” eren’s groaning, breaths hard and chuffed as he trades his rhythm for a more steady pull out then quick slam in. “c’mon — f-fuck yes — take it, mama. take it for me.”
ony hears you squeak as your charm studded nails drag belts of red across his hips. you’re cumming. he hears it in your tone. he commends eren for breaking you so quickly. you’re weeping and sniffling, fingers holding onto his biceps as you sweetly sob for him to ‘ give you a second. ‘
eren quiets you with a kiss. his lips move smoothly against yours as his cock fucks you through your orgasm — not slowing nor stopping. “you’re so pretty,” he mumbles into the heat of your mouth, hips circling on the thrusts in. “ungh . . fuck, you’re s-so fuckin’ pretty.” this is supposed to be about teaching you a lesson, but, when you look up at him like that, with your eyes shimmering with tears, body trembling, lips parted, you look like you feel so good, eren can’t help but let a praise slip in here and there.
“mm,” you give a loopy, little smile with your eyes closed simultaneously when a splash of wetness squirts out around his dick. “y-you’re, oh, prettier, daddy.”
eren huffs a chuckle into your neck, “g-gonna, ‘m gonna cum. you ready?”
you interlock your arms around his neck, nodding into his shoulder, “m-mhm.”
he wholeheartedly adores how your pretty, little pussy likes to begin to flutter around him — muscles pumping across the thick pillar of his cock, trying its best to work his nut free come each time he warns you of his release. eren doesn’t even think you intentionally do it, your tiny cunt is just always so desperate and hungry and needy for it that it happens involuntarily.
“m-my pretty girl,” he huffs, bowing his forehead against the bouncing hill of your tit. your fingers find his nape and they scratch along it, overwhelming only the best parts of eren’s brain. his eyes are rolling back, he even thinks a trickle of drool is slipping down the corner of his lips. “fuckin’ — ohhh . . shit. gonna be our wife, hm? jus’ ours?”
“only yours.”
the words quake over the trills of your hiccups, moans, and the sound of slapping skin. you make sure eren can hear you when you mewl out a more quiet, “only daddies’,” into the cusp of his ear, not at all stunned come the immediate feeling of thick warmth pulsing into you soon after. he holds you tight, arms wrapped underneath your back to completely hold you against his chest as his hips continue to rock and pivot, pressing his dick in deeper, making sure his cum sticks.
“mm,” you loll your head to the side, sweetly sated and dazed. “love your cum.” potent, sweet, and a pearly white. birth control is your only savior because you know it’d only take a single load of his to knock you up, if not by twins, then maybe triplets.
“i love you,” he mumbles in reply. you feel a soft peck at the center of your rib cage before his head is lifting so that he can mimic another upon your gentle lips. “so much.”
you don’t want him to pull out just yet, however, ony’s quiet “baby boy.” prompts eren’s attention.
he lifts up on a hand while the other slips between you two so that he can cautiously begin to slide his cock from out of you. “mm, yeah, pa’?” he breathes softly, eyes locked on your swollen clit — pink and smooth.
“need you to do somethin’ for me.”
you watch eren slip off of the bed and walk, clearly weak limbed, over to where ony stands by the balcony door. he utters something to him, low and incomprehensible. eren seems to understand because he gives him a nod, prior to leaning into him for a kiss after ony takes a hit of his blunt.
“don’t get me fuckin’ started, jaeger,” ony utters, watching him inhale the smoke stolen from his mouth.
eren breathes it out through his nose, soft smile playing on his lips, “nah, you didn’t even ask if i wanted a hit, ‘yan. fuck you.”
blame it on the weed because in another case, ony would normally be lightning quick in snatching him up, albeit, he can only take a small step toward eren before he’s quickly dodging him to head for the closet.
around his blunt, ony delicately utters. “nun but two fuckin’ brats i got, man,” before stubbing it out and shutting the balcony door.
his steps are slow and lazy as he walks over to where you lay. the moonlight enshrouds you beautifully. he’s able to see the sheen of sweat that glazes your forehead, the still glistening luster of eren’s saliva over your nipples and neck — the cum that drips out of your battered, little pussy.
how eren’s able to ruin you, so brisk and effortlessly at that, stupefies ony. and though he knows you’re sensitive, all of you know how easy it is to play your body like a fiddle, ony still just can’t help but think regardless, if any other person were to be in their shoes, they wouldn’t be able to do what the two of them can — you prove this statement correct each time the three of you find yourselves in a predicament like this.
“you know you fucked up, right?” the question is more of an assertion. you tense when ony grabs you by the ankle to tug you more to the edge, then by the waist to flip you over.
“mm-mm.”
maybe you did. you’re aware your attitude could’ve been . . considerably better today. still, it isn’t your fault that she wanted to come out and play — the brat in you, that is. it’s not.
you hear eren walking back toward you both when ony yanks your hips up so that you kneel, breasts pressed against the bed and back arched. he hands him something.
eren wants to slip in a ‘ take it easy on her ‘ because he sees what type of timing ony is on. he’s a backshot kind of guy, sure, nonetheless, usually he prefers to see your face — have you ride him, bounces you on his cock while he stands up, the occasional full nelson.
you have fucked up.
and eren had known ony was upset, but he didn’t know he’d be this pissed.
how his lubed up cock ends up pounding that sweet, little hole above your pussy is beyond all three of you. how you managed to slip and end up prone bone between the fat wand of a vibrator on your clit and ony on top of you is also a mystery unsolved.
words are impossible, making a sound is damn near vain when you feel the swaying, solid sac of ony’s balls smacking against your cunt with each downwards thrust of his dick inside of your ass. each time you find one of their heavy cocks buried inside of a cavern so tight and small — you think you go a little bit brain dead. you don’t want to move from your spot in fear of feeling him pull out. you wish you’re able to keep him here, inside of you until the end of your days, when dusks blur into dawns and the world whizzes past you.
“you know what he wants, ma’.”
eren’s presence only worsens that aching whirl of a feeling inside of you. you sob around the fingers that he slips past your lips — cheeks stained, eyes puffy. still, you look up at him when he lifts your chin, “say it,” he softly demands, emeralds drilling. “. . say it.”
“ ‘m . .” you swallow around a cute yelp when ony splits the glossed cheeks of your ass far apart to watch his cock continue to push in that tautened ring. “ooh — ‘m sorry, daddy.”
ony huffs around a short laugh, swatting a leaden smack upon it, “now we fuckin’ talkin — so, now you wanna speak up.”
eren has pulled a twig from the dam. when the words finally leave you, they don’t stop. “i’m s-sorry, i’m sorry — f-fuck, ‘m sorry, please. papa, please.”
“we know, we fuckin know,” ony appreciates your apologies. he genuinely does. but your ass feels too fucking good around his dick and still, four sorries? he thinks him and his boy deserve a couple more. “we might jus’ forgive you, mama.”
he feels you cumming. you shudder underneath him, little hands grappling for eren and him at the same while. he’ll let you have that. it’s the second of many.
“u-unh, hng . . hnggg,” eren watches you cry. you lay your head atop his thigh, suckling and drooling across his fingers as tepid gems of tears drip down to your temple. his cock stiffens against his sweats. you appear so pretty to him — a living princess out of a fairytale — only his. only ony’s.
“say i’m sorry for bein’ a brat,” he whispers, letting his thumb slip through the warm cascade along your cheek.
“i’m s-sorry . . . sorry f’being a brat.”
eren smiles, “a big brat.”
“a b-big brat.”
ony leans his head down to kiss beneath your ear, “sorry for cussin’.”
the vibrator moves underneath you — manages to find that perfect angle upon your clit that has your feet kick out and you give a squeal, “ ‘m sorry f-for cursing, daddy.”
“for not usin’ y’good girl manners . . for actin’ like a fuckin’ nightmare.” ony lowers his head to watch the supple cheeks of your ass continue to bounce as you babble out each regret.
you make it hard to be strict with you because you’re so good. you don’t fight back and whine and pout. you do as they say — no complaints or rolled eyes. just how he likes you. ony licks his lips and lifts up on the knuckles of his fists, “bouta’ fuckin’ cum,” he grits out quietly through his teeth. your walls are gripping him, your pussy is thoroughly soaked, the view of you and eren — it’s no question as to why it hits him so quick. “you know better than to try that shit again, hm? you know fuckin’ better.”
you do. you wish you were able to tell him so, however, your brain becomes too occupied — splitting to focus on the sensation of his fat cock splitting your plump, little ass in half and eren’s tatted hand, slipping his from out of his sweats to begin to stroke right before your face.
their thrusts are in tandem. quick, smooth, and long. you feel ony’s lips against the curved shell of your ear, you feel eren’s free hand still gripping the bottom of your jaw to keep your face in place. your mouth drops around a drawn out sob when that vibrator begins to stroke itself back and forth along that pert and hardened swell of nerves. “t-tongue out, princess. stick that fuckin’ tongue out,” eren’s thumb rubs across those piercings as ony grabs a nice handful of your ass to roll between his fingers.
“ready t’catch this nut, baby?”
they don’t give you much of a warning. warm, milky ribbons of ony’s cum shoots inside of your ass first before eren’s following to sweetly varnish the surface of your cheeks, tongue, nose, and chin. the sounds they make push you over your own edge once more — soft moans, hard groans, hisses, and sighs. you buck up into ony for more, trying your best to siphon him dry as you suckle along eren’s tip, whimpering and pliant.
“u-unh, fuck, shit baby — wait, wait,” eren’s hips are quivering as he pulls himself from your lips. your responding pout makes him breathe out a trembly laugh. “too sensitive. hold on.”
you feel that vibrator slip from under you and the buzzing cease as ony shifts from atop of you.
“d-don’t go yet,” you mewl, gripping onto his hand. “stay in.”
you don’t want to give up the feeling of being full so suddenly. you hear ony chuckle as he slowly stands, making you follow him by grabbing your hips and pulling you back up onto your knees. “ima plug you up, mama,” he mumbles. “be still for me, alright?”
you consider the pull out worse than the push in. your face is turned away from them both as you give a low whine come the laggard tug of his dick being freed from your hole, inch by inch.
ony admires the way it winks up at him when it’s empty — stretched and tender. he doesn’t want a drop of his cum to fall. he pushes in a heart base, pink tinted, glass plug to replace him, watching you swallow it, needy. “there we fuckin’ go.” he kisses the base of your back, flipping you over to gather you inside of his arms as eren reaches in the nightstand for a few wipes and cooling lotion.
“you did good, princess.”
you feel a cold wipe being rubbed across your face then one along your thighs as you lay your head atop of his shoulder, eyes closed, “ ‘m a good girl,” you mumble quietly. you just had a bad day, is all.
“the fuckin’ best girl,” eren adds on with a kiss to your temple.
ony pecks your lips, “you number one.”
your loopy, little smile of satisfaction lets both men know that what they’d said has been what you’ve been dying to hear all this time.
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