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#eren jaeger x you
seeingivy · 2 days
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sofia
actor!eren x f!reader
**part of my method acting series
previous part linked here
songs mentioned: champagne problems by taylor swift, when emma falls in love by taylor swift, and minor sofia by clairo insinuation (+ the name of the chapter)
“Can I ask for a favor?” Eren asks. 
You look up to find Eren and Armin standing in front of the dining table, both leaning on the backs of the chairs. The first whiff you get is a mix of sweat and deodorant, and you instinctively push your notebook closer to you and nod. 
You hate that Eren and Armin work out together. 
Not really, of course. You’re glad that Armin was able to find some type of segway that felt comfortable enough for him to interact with Eren, that they were slowly building back whatever it was that they lost. 
You just hate that Eren always wears that stupid headband to keep her hair back and insists on wearing a tank top – or no shirt at all –  for the five mile run they do at the end. 
You’re lucky that today is the former and not the latter. 
“Yeah, what’s up?” you ask. 
Eren places the little glass bowl in front of you, before giving Armin a nod, and sliding into the chair across from you. Armin takes his leave with Annie at his side, before giving you a passive wave over the shoulder. 
The first thing you note is that Eren’s fish tattoo is on display. It’s one of the few moments that you get to admire it – the physical reminder of you inked on to his arm – since the makeup team is always covering it up or he’s wearing a jacket. 
And the second is that Eren doesn’t really fit in the chair – because his legs are overstretched and hanging against the sides of the legs – and he nearly falls back when he moves a little too much. 
It’s crazy to think that there was a time that you and Eren would have your feet dangling in the air from how high the chairs used to be. 
You eye the little bowl, before reaching forward for it, and taking it in your hands. There’s only two little requests left, though you swear yesterday that you only had one left – which was Eren’s. 
“I know I technically already have a request in there. But could you please do another one for me?” Eren asks. 
“Sure. Which one is it that you want me to pull? The green slip or the pink one?” 
“Oh, no. It’s a separate request. I need you to write a song about Mikasa for me.” Eren responds. 
“Ah, yeah. Sure.” 
You reach forward into the bowl anyways and pull both of the slips out but Eren’s quick to reach forward and snatch them from your hands, much to your dismay.
“Hey!” 
“I just asked you to write a different song. Why did you take both of these out?” Eren asks. 
“Why are you in such a rush? I already have a song about Mikasa somewhere in one of my books, I just need to find it. I’m more curious about who added a request yesterday because there was only one left last night.” you respond. 
“It’s part of my gift for Mikasa. The wedding is next week, idiot.” 
Shit. You had yet to plan what you were going to give Jean. 
Eren looks back at the little slips, before tucking the green one closer to him and handing you the pink. You take it in your hands and find Sofia’s name scribbled over the top and open the slip. 
“It’s Sofia.” 
You pale when you read the slip. 
write a song with historia about how she said no to ymir’s proposal. (please!!!! if you can!) 
You hand it over to Eren who reads it before setting it down on the table. 
“Just don’t sing it at the end, especially if Ymir is there.” Eren responds. 
“I…do you think I should? From my very limited information, I think Ymir would hate it if Historia wrote another song about her.” you respond.
“That information is very limited because you refuse to talk to Historia. And Ymir won’t talk about it unless you ask, which you won’t.” Eren responds. 
You slouch back into your chair. 
“I’m not refusing to talk to her. I’m just in my nice….ignorance is bliss bubble. I like Ymir and Sofia but I also like Historia. I don’t want to get all complicated with the feelings if I know everything that happened.” you respond. 
Eren rolls his eyes. 
“You’re already mentally siding with Ymir because you know that Ymir got on her hands and knees and begged Historia to be with her after she said no to the proposal. And because you like Sofia.” Eren responds. 
“Can we go back to when you weren’t calling me out on my shit? What gift are you getting, Mikasa?” you ask. 
Eren smiles, before leaning forward. 
“For the record, I…I sided more with Ymir and Sofia too. Or did originally at least. I feel like you’ll run into the same thing as me, but we can’t really hold it against Historia. She just has different priorities than us and picked differently than we would have, but it doesn’t mean she’s wrong. And I’m making Mikasa an edited video and I want the song in the background to be about her. Preferably written by her best friend.” Eren responds. 
“Do you think Historia will hang Sofia at the stake for requesting this?” you ask.
Eren shrugs. 
“I’m positive that Sofia just requested it because Historia’s been making lots of snide comments to Ymir all week. And saying stuff about Sofia that she eventually finds out about. Everyone’s been telling her about how the songs and stuff have been helping them with their own situation, so she might have just seen it as a segway. Just don’t tell Historia who asked for it and  make it seem like it’s your idea. I don’t think Sofia meant ill will.” Eren responds. 
“No. No, I don’t think she meant anything malicious either. She’s so sweet. And she must feel awkward since we all grew up together and she’s the other woman, or something” you respond. 
“Yeah, she is really sweet. She kind of reminds me of you, sometimes.” Eren adds. 
“As if. She reminds me of you – she literally has the same dimples.” 
Eren scoffs. 
“Lots of people have dimples. I would look like half of the people on the planet by that logic. She actually reminds me of you, when you first got here. She’s just so…” Eren responds. 
“Normal.” you respond. 
Eren sighs. 
“Yeah.” 
 You choose to withhold your comments about how you're not that type of normal anymore. And it sours all together – because that was one of the things that Eren really loved about you when you first started dating. 
Eren gives you a smile before making his move to leave. But he stops before he retreats to his room, his hand is warm on your shoulder as he squeezes. 
“Still the same in all the ways that matter. To me, at least.” Eren mumbles, before walking off. 
You sigh. 
If Sukuna was still here, he’d call you hopeless. And you’d have to agree with him. 
--
You find Historia on set, intently watching Eren and Armin while they’re filming. You take the seat next to her, reaching forward to squeeze her shoulder and catch her attention, as she shuffles to the side and makes space for you. 
“Hi Hisu.” you whisper. 
“Is the Y/N L/N finally gracing me with her presence?” Historia responds. 
You roll your eyes. 
“Shut up.” 
You feel a tiny smack, before you turn around to find Levi glaring at the two of you. And the guilty culprit – the pencil he projectile launched at the two of you. 
“You two shut up.” Levi warns, before walking back to where he was standing at the viewfinder, with Hange. 
You both smile, like you’ve been caught passing notes by a teacher, before looking back down at the script to the scene that they were filming. 
“So what did you think?” Armin asks. 
“About what?” Eren asks. 
“About Y/N?” Armin asks. 
You lean forward, tucking your legs close to your chest, as you watch them. 
“The makeup team did really well with the hair.” Historia whispers. 
“Yeah. It almost looks like he still has the man-bun.” you respond. 
“Which hair was your favorite?” Historia asks. 
You pause. 
“I like the length it’s at right now. But, I kind of liked his short hair, like from before. Sometimes I feel like when his hair is too long it kind of drowns everything else out, like his eyes and stuff.” you respond. 
“Imagine thinking you’re not in love with the guy but talking about him like that.” Historia grumbles, as you reach to shove her in the side. 
“Who said I think that?” you respond. 
You watch as Historia’s eyes widen and you turn back to the two of them. 
“Do you think she’ll be able to forget about you and live happily with someone else? Just like you wanted.” Armin asks. 
Eren shrugs. 
“Well. Who knows?” Eren asks. 
Armin reaches forward and punches Eren in the face. You bite down on your cheeks to stop yourself from flinching, as you turn to your left to find Reiner and Connie shoving their faces into their own scripts to avoid distracting them with their laughter.
Reiner and Connie never got over laughing at immature stunts. Like punching each other. 
“The hell kind of answer is that? I still haven’t forgiven you! How do you feel about the fact that you ignored Y/N’s feelings?” Armin screams. 
You bite down on your lip. The deja vu feels uncanny. 
“Y/N risked her life and only ever had eyes for you. Did you really think you could say forget about me and it would be just that?” 
Sometimes you wonder if Eren’s a sadist for writing scenes like this into the show. You’re positive Levi must have insinuated the same when he suggested the entire thing to him. 
“At the very least, Y/N should forget about a heartbreaker like you and find happiness. She might find a good guy sooner than you think and hit it off with him.” Armin responds. 
It comes out quietly – Eren’s voice. Almost like a whimper. 
In all honesty, you had almost forgotten he was there for a second, with Armin’s screaming. But when you look over, you find Eren sitting there in the water, with tears streaming out of his eyes. 
“No. No, that would kill me.” Eren responds, his voice breaking. 
You press your hands to your cheeks, letting your fingers block out the periphery as you watch the two of them, and feel your chest compress. It’s almost like you can feel everyone else looking at you – Jean and Mikasa, Historia at your side – and you choose to ignore it for the time being. 
“I don’t want her to find someone else. I want to be her one and only for the rest of my life! And after I die, I want her to pine after me for at least ten years!” Eren responds. 
Armin pauses, lifting his hands to tousle his hair. 
“Oh. I didn’t think you’d say something so…pathetic…” Armin responds. 
Eren sighs, shoving his palms into the sockets of his eyes to still the crying. 
“Don’t tell Y/N any of this. I want her to find happiness. I really do…I don’t want to die. I can’t leave Y/N…or any of you.” 
Armin crouches down, hands heavy on his shoulders, as he pleads. 
It’s enough to make the wave of discomfort bubble up in your throat – because it’s the exact same as last time. And even in the fictional version, Eren won’t heed anyone’s advice. 
“Eren! Let’s keep trying! Let’s find another way!” Armin screams. 
You can’t watch them anymore. You reach for your script, giving Historia a smile, before you retreat to the dressing room and give Levi a wave as you pass. You can tell that he shoots you a concerned look, which you shake off, before you settle into one of the makeup rooms at the back and slam the door behind you. 
“We don’t need you till later.” 
“Yeah, I…just needed a breather from out there. Do you mind?” 
The stylist shakes her head as you shoot her a smile and settle into the chair. You lift the script again, still open on the page that they were just shooting out there, as you pause. 
You focus more carefully this time on the lines. You had read this scene when Eren wrote it – way back when, when he and Armin were still fighting. But Eren had given you the second half – about meeting each other in hell. 
You never read the part that he just said because Eren never wrote it. The only line that he was actually in the script was the first one, about how it would kill him. 
He had improvised the rest. 
It was like a lingering thought that was in the back of your mind at all times. 
Now that your previous excuse, that you needed everything to be settled before you could even think about Eren, was virtually gone. 
You had done the awards show, you had given your performance. And as annoying as it was, Eren was right. The heaviness of letting go was because now you had to move forward, because that chapter of york ife was sealed now. Danny and Sareen, Scott Clarkson and Hyla, Ricky even – they were always just going to be a footnote from here on out. 
Which is why you spent all three days of the break that Levi and Hange gave you thinking about Eren. About what would be the right way to approach him again. And every idea that you came up with seemed horrible, not good enough to bring him back. 
Deep down, you knew that Eren wanted you. That some part of him still loved you, and that if you made the move, he wouldn't reject you. 
The fear was what came after that. What if your relationship wasn’t the same? What if you two had changed too much, that there was just too much baggage that you both came with, that it would eventually drag you down? 
Then you’d really lose Eren forever. It almost felt safer to keep it the way it was now. 
But that came with its own mess. Because Eren wouldn’t wait for you forever and if you had to watch him move on with someone like Sofia, the same way Historia had to watch Ymir, you’re positive that you would handle it worse than her. 
There’s a knock on the door and it’s almost like you’ve summoned her by thinking about her. Because Historia’s peeking into the room, gesturing for you to follow her out. And you oblige, as the two of you quietly march back to the townhouse, arm in arm. 
--
Historia takes you straight to her room. And you note the sign scribbled on the door, how Historia’s crossed Ymir’s name out as you walk in. You both settle into the sheets, Historia throwing the throw blanket over the two of you, as you stare up at the ceiling. 
It’s quiet. And the thoughts are racketing around in your brain like a pinball machine. 
“I’m getting deja vu.” Historia states. 
You laugh. 
“Tell me about it.” you respond. 
“Can I tell you something that won’t help in any shape or form?” Historia responds. 
“Please.” 
“He improvised all of those lines.” Historia responds. 
“I knew that already. I realized it when I went into the stylist’s trailer.” you respond. 
“Well, he kept going after you left. He’s either down horrendous or he really wants to win an award.” Historia responds. 
You smile. 
Eren probably would win an award for this. And if he was lucky, he’d win Actor in a Leading Role – and actually get to celebrate it this time around. 
The thought of getting to win a triple threat again crosses your mind, but falls dead in its tracks. No one’s ever gotten it twice. And it was insinuated enough that it was more of a…lifetime achievement award, so your chance was already out the door. 
“So. You said no when she proposed to you?” you ask. 
She doesn’t respond. You look over to find her staring at the ceiling, her eyes almost blank. You reach for her hands under the blanket, following her lead instead of asking again. 
You can only imagine how agonizing it must be to watch someone as…nonchalant as Ymir beg on her hands and knees. 
“I would have married her.” she whispers. 
You feel your chest tighten, as you pinch your eyes shut. This is exactly what you didn’t want to hear. 
“I-I really would have, I swear. I just wasn’t ready.” Historia repeats. 
The retort is on the tip of your tongue. How were you not ready when you’ve loved Ymir since you were kids? 
But then again, you’ve loved Eren since then you were kids too. And you have yet to muster up enough courage to go for him, when he’s standing right in front of you basically waiting for it. 
“It was really perfect. She had invited everyone to fly out and come watch us, after I was done touring. Levi and Hange were there, Sasha and Jean, even Erwin was there. And they were all watching from afar and…and she…” 
Historia pauses. 
“I…I was already crying when she started by saying my dear, Historia. I could see the little box in her hand and I knew what was coming. And then she….she dropped to her knees.” Historia starts. 
She shakes her head, almost like she’s trying to rid herself of the mental image. 
“I always had this stupid running joke, ever since we first got together, that Ymir would never humble herself to propose on her knees. That…that was never really her style, to do something like that even though I’ve always wanted someone to propose to me like that. I’m more traditional and…and Ymir really hates that type of shit, so I just figured she wouldn’t do it when the time came.” 
You sigh. 
“I only knew the answer was no when she actually got on her knees and asked me. Because…because if it was me, I…I wouldn’t ever do that for her.” Historia adds. 
“What?” 
“I wouldn’t do that for her. If getting on my knees and proposing wasn’t my style, I wouldn’t get on my knees and propose. But…Ymir would, for me. And I know it’s fucking stupid and not that serious, but I just…” 
Ymir loved Historia, more than Historia loved her.
“I couldn’t say yes in good faith… because I wouldn’t give something up for her like that. Or…or for anyone, at that time. Even if it was something as trivial as where you stand while you’re proposing.” Historia states. 
You pause. You can tell what she’s trying to get at, though the comparison is hardly fair. 
“Well, your career is hardly trivial to you. But in all honesty, I don’t think you’d lose your career if you were a popstar who was gay.” you note.
Historia sighs. 
“I know you don’t feel the same way. I know that…that a lot of you don’t and that…that I must seem stupid but. But –” 
You hear her sniffle, turning your side to note that there’s tears flowing out of her eyes. 
“I’m not a bad guy for wanting to keep my career the way it is now. I’m not the villain for saying no to her proposal and not wanting people to know that I’m gay. Getting to make music, being in shows like this – it’s what I love. You know that most things like this are…are temporary anyways. I still need something I can fall back on.” she responds. 
You deflate. There was a small part of you that was hoping that she would deny it. That this wasn't really the reason that she said no. You lean closer to her, resting your head against her shoulder. 
“No one thinks you’re the bad guy, Historia. And you’re not the villain for wanting to keep your own life private. We…we just don’t like that you think you can’t be a popstar and be gay at the same time. There’s….there’s so many people who are successful. Just look at Hange.” 
Historia shakes her head. 
“Hange…doesn’t count to me. I had even tried to talk to them about it, but…it didn’t really apply. They even agreed with me.” 
“What do you mean?” 
“Hange blends in more than I do. Then Ymir and I would. They’re dating Levi and...if you didn’t know, you would think they’re a straight couple. On the outside, when they walk on red carpets together, they still look normal to people. But if Ymir and I…” 
“It would be different. There would be no question.” you respond. 
“You know that Hange gets overlooked for certain opportunities, right? Imagine if it were me. I’m not charismatic like Satoru Gojo and…and maybe I don’t want to have to forge my own path. I get that it’s glamorous to do things like this to some people but…it feels unfair that everyone else gets to do things normally but I have to be some trailblazer just to get to the same place.” 
You don’t know what to say. Because it makes complete sense to you. And she had checked you on what you had been thinking yourself. 
That Historia was insanely talented and that she’d continue to prove herself just as she did before people started doubting her. That when she came out of it at the end, people would love and praise her – for going above and beyond mere expectations that were put on her and staying true to herself. 
But it wasn’t fair. And you know well enough now, there’s nothing glamorous or fulfilling about climbing your way to the top like that. To have people speculate on every portion of your life, especially something so sacred like the ones you hold ear. To expect Historia to do it would be unfair. 
Eren’s words echo through your mind. Just because her priorities aren’t the same as ours doesn’t mean she’s wrong. 
It’s a silent thankfulness you have – that you and Eren are on the same page. You wouldn’t be able to handle it half as well as Ymir if he wasn’t. If he had picked his career over you.  
“Things like love aren’t temporary, though. You could have fallen back on her when things got hard.” you murmur. 
Historia scoffs. 
“You don’t believe that.” Historia seethes in response. 
“I do. There’s…there’s so many examples of it around us.” you respond. 
“I know that everyone’s on a high because Jean and Mikasa are getting married next week. But you weren’t here when they were fighting. I promise you, no part of that was pretty for Jean. She gave him more hurt than he deserved.” 
“But they moved past that! They love each other now.” 
“But not everyone does. Not everyone gets to rock bottom and climbs their way out – and in fact, most people don’t. Jean and Mikasa are the exception, not the rule. If you didn’t think that was true, you and Eren would be going to the wedding as a couple.” 
You sigh. She’s wrong. She’s so wrong – but you can’t throw it in her face. 
“It doesn’t seem like you really believe it either.” you respond. 
Historia shrugs. 
“Two things can be true at one time, Y/N. I can believe in love but know that Ymir and I are hopeless. We have been since she kneeled.” 
You reach for your notebook, which you had discarded on the floor, and for the shitty pen that was left in between the pages and scribble on the first open spot you find. 
sometimes you just don’t know the answer till someone’s on their knees and asks you 
The question bites at you. Historia still loves Ymir. 
“Would you say yes if she asked you now?” you ask. 
“Yeah. I think I would.” 
“Even if she got on her knees?”
“I’d crouch down just to be there with her.” Historia responds. 
The earnestness in the statement makes your heart crush. She was already too late. 
“What do you think about Sofia?” 
Historia rolls her eyes. 
“It’s irritating how likable she is. Like it actually pisses me off.” 
You snort. That sounds familiar. 
“Lacy, oh lacy…” you hum. 
“You’re not funny, bitch.” Historia responds, reaching to shove you in the side. 
You both laugh. 
“I wrote a few songs about her and Sofia. No one knew it was about them, but…but Ymir knew. Sofia knew, but she was too nice to say anything about it. I wrote this song called traitor, because technically, Ymir actually knew Sofia while we were still together. And she got mad because…” 
“Because how is she a traitor if you’re the one who said no…” you finish. 
“Yeah. It…it really hurt, Ymir. And maybe I did that on purpose, just because…I never actually expected her to move on. It felt like a betrayal to me.” Historia adds. 
“I know you’ve been making…comments here and there. To Sofia and Ymir. I know you don’t like her, but…you made your bed, Historia. You have to lay in it now.” you respond. 
She doesn’t respond. 
“I think Ymir and Sofia just want what’s best for you. Sofia is the one who wanted me to write a song with you about it, just…just so you could get some of it off of your chest. We all want you to be happy.” 
Historia pushes up off the bed, hiking her knees to her chest, as she buries her face into the hardness of her knees. You can tell that she’s racking out a sob, her breaths heavy, as you wrap your arms around her, resting your head against hers. 
“Historia–” 
“If Ymir wanted me to be happy, she would have gotten back together with me when I asked yesterday.” Historia mumbles. 
You cringe. 
“Don’t tell me you –” you murmur. 
“We…we were talking about how nice it was to be around each other again at the funeral. And Ymir was saying that…that I’d always be someone who would bring comfort to her, just like I did to her then. I thought she was trying to say that it was always going to be me so I asked. I begged her this time. And she said no.” Historia adds. 
“Historia, I’m so sorry. You–” 
She shakes her head. It’s almost like you’ve hit a brick wall, because instead of talking further, reaches for your notebook and scribbles the words onto the page with you. You can tell that the conversation is over, and that in true Historia fashion, she’s so stubborn she won’t touch it again. 
Wwith your permission, she rips the page out of the spine. The look she spares you over her shoulder before walking out of the room is haunting. 
--
Eren pops his head into your room an hour later. 
“Can you do me a favor?” Eren asks. 
“Can you stop asking me that?” you retort back. 
“My response is contingent on your answer.” Eren
“Yes. I can do you a favor, Eren. What is it?” 
Eren smiles, holding his hand out to you, as he all but yanks you off of your bed. 
“It’s not really a favor. I just wanted you to come into my room. Gabi and Falco are trying their outfits on for the wedding.” Eren responds. 
You smile as you walk straight across into Eren’s room, to find Gabi and Falco sitting eagerly on the couch. There’s four big boxes in his room, freshly delivered from the courier, as you take the seat next to Eren on the bed. 
“Okay. Falco, this is yours. Gabi, you can change in Y/N’s room and Falco take the bathroom. And don’t rip anything or you’re both going to the wedding naked.” Eren instructs. 
You watch as the two of them burst out into a fit of giggles, before they shuffle into their respective rooms with the hangers stretched over their shoulders. You turn to Eren, tapping on your thighs, as you wait for them to come back. 
“Your dress is here, too. If you want to try it on.” Eren offers. 
“Oh! Yeah, maybe I will. Are you going to try yours?” 
“Yeah. Yeah, I might.” Eren responds. 
It’s swelteringly awkward. You have no idea what to say. 
“I…found the song I wrote about Mikasa. Nico and Armin put together a backtrack for me so I’ll send it to you.” 
You watch as Eren’s eyes light up. 
“Thank you so much! I really hope she likes it.” 
“She will. You know how sentimental she is, I-I think she’s really going to love it.” you respond. 
“Speaking of. What are you getting Jean? I am morally obligated to hang you at the stake like it’s the Salem witch trials if it’s something bad.” 
You roll your eyes. 
“I actually need your help with my gift for Jean.” you state. 
Eren dramatically places his hands on his chest. 
“It’s your lucky day, Y/N! I live to serve. Especially when it’s you.” 
“When did you get so theatrical? Are you on something?” you state, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Not only am I extremely helpful, but I’m really generous too. I’ll give you some of my fix.” Eren responds, returning the energy back in full flesh. 
“Not me getting the princess treatment! What did I do to deserve this?” 
Eren shoves you in the side. 
“Shut up. What do you need my help with?” Eren asks. 
“Well…” 
It’s right at that moment that you hear Falco and Gabi’s giggly voices again, as they both run into the room. You immediately press your hands to your cheeks and nearly squeal at how cute they both look – and specifically melt at Falco’s bowtie matching Gabi’s dress. 
Seeing Falco wear suits is less cute than it was when he was a kid. Only because he looks like a full grown person, instead of being a sweet little kid, and it makes your heart hurt at how big he’s getting. 
You know that Falco can tell what you’re thinking and he preemptively complains about it. 
“Y/N. Quit looking at me like that. You’re embarrassing me.” Falco states. 
“Do you remember when you threw up on me in first grade? Don’t talk to me about being  embarrassing.” you scold. 
Eren shakes you off, before gesturing for Falco to walk closer to him. Eren’s readjusting the collar against the coat, tightening the tie, before he gets up and rummages around in his drawers. 
“Okay, Falco. I’m going to let you borrow my cuff-links for the wedding, but you have to promise to take really good care of them, okay? These are really special to me.”  Eren states. 
“Really, Eren? You’re going to let me wear them?” 
Eren reaches forward to lightly mess with Falco’s hair, before he hands him the box. Falco sticks his hand out as Eren secures them on for him, before offering him a smile. Falco’s sheer excitement makes your heart flutter – and melt that Eren so freely offered something of his own – as Falco excitedly shows them to Gabi at his side. 
“You didn’t have to do that.” you whisper. 
Eren shrugs. 
“Of course, I did. It’s Falco.” Eren responds. 
Eren turns back to the two of them, watching the excitement on his face, as they thank him profusely. 
“What’s special about the cuff-links, Eren?” Gabi asks. 
“I wore them at one of my first award shows where I won something for Attack on Titan.” Eren states. 
Gabi curls her nose in disgust. 
“Eren. You hate award shows. You don’t even care about awards!” Gabi complains. 
“You’re right. I don’t. But, it was a pretty memorable one for me. Got my first tattoo, performed with Y/N for the first time.” 
You turn to him, as he gives you a knowing smile, and you shake your head. And he has the nerve to call Mikasa over-sentimental. 
“Wait, Gabi. I have something for you too.” 
Eren watches as you quickly rush to your room, noting that you must really be rummaging through things in your dresser since he can hear you drop things and shout in pain, before you run back with a little blue box in your hands. 
You hold it open for Gabi, as she admires the little earrings. 
“Do you like them?” you ask. 
“I love them, Y/N.” 
“You can wear them at the wedding. Here, I’ll put them on for you.” 
Gabi excitedly pushes her hair back, as you watch Falco with his lovesick eyes as he observes you fixing them. You tuck her hair behind her ears as you admire her dress in full, squeezing her wrists. 
“You look beautiful, Gabi. They’re perfect.”
“Thank you so much, Y/N. I love you so much.” 
You can’t help but frown as she presses herself into your arms, returning her warm embrace in full. You look over at Eren, who wraps his arm around Falco and smiles at you. 
“Gabi! You’re going to be the prettiest girl at the party. You should have at least given Mikasa a fighting chance.” Eren jokes, as you watch Gabi shake her head and blush at the compliment. 
“You’re corny, Eren.” Gabi responds. 
“Do you have a date to the party, Gabi? It would make my night if the prettiest girl at the party walked in with me.” 
Eren’s so sweet. It reminds you of how Levi used to be with Sasha. 
“Sorry, Eren! You snooze, you lose. Falco already asked me.” Gabi responds, linking in her arm with Falco’s. 
Eren clutches his hands to his chest, giving the two of them a dramatic display of hurt, before he puts his hand on Falco’s shoulder. 
“Fair enough. You’re a very worthy opponent, Falco. Make sure you put the cuff links and the earrings back in the box nicely. And again, if you rip your clothes, you are going to the wedding naked.” Eren states. 
It’s an innocent thought that crosses your mind. That Eren would be a really good dad, when it came to it. 
The two of them wrap their arms around you again before they run out of the room again and Eren turns to you, narrowing his eyes. 
“You’re a copycat. You only got the earrings idea from me.” 
“You’re just bitter because she gave me a bigger reaction than Falco gave you.” you bite back. 
Eren shakes his head, as he starts shuffling through the tagged clothes and looking for your dress. 
“Have to ask. What’s so special about the earrings?” Eren states. 
You smile. 
“I wore them to Levi and Hange’s vow renewal.” 
It was the first time you and Eren said that you loved each other.  Eren turns back, giving you a soft smile. 
“You’re a sap.” Eren responds. 
“Takes one to know one.” you respond. 
Eren places the dress at your side. You eye the silver beading through the little zipper, admiring Mikasa’s cursive handwriting on the little label. 
“So what do you need my help with?” Eren asks. 
“Oh. Well.” 
You tap the open spot next to you. 
“When we were going to the awards show, Jean told me something. I had asked him back then if he was delaying his wedding because you and I were fighting. He said that it wasn’t just that, but it was because…he wanted you as his best man and he was having a hard time letting go of that thought when it was how he always imagined his wedding.” 
Eren nods. You figured Jean had told him as much. 
“He said that he’s always imagined his wedding the same way. That Mikasa would have long hair, a short train but a long veil. That you would be the best man and I would be the maid of honor. And that we’d sing a song for them, one that we wrote together for their first dance.” you state. 
Eren smiles. 
“Fuck. Your gift is way better than mine.” 
You laugh. 
“Is not.” 
“You’re giving Jean his dream wedding. I’m giving Mikasa America’s Funniest Home Videos.” 
“She loves that show!” you defend. 
“Alright, alright. I’ll help you write the song.” 
--
Levi attempts to ban Connie from coming to set the day you’re filming the kiss scene. Naturally, Connie decides to sneak in by dressing up as one of the crew members, before he’s dragged out by the ear when Hange catches him. 
You count yourself lucky that Hange and Levi had thought ahead and made sure that the cabin scenes were the last ones that you filmed for the show. Dead last – meaning everyone would have already been gone by the time you and Eren actually prepared to film them. 
It was enough consolation that you’d be alone with Eren in the last few days, before it was all really over. Similar to the way it really started, just the two of you in the townhouse.  
Eren’s sitting high in the makeup chair, lazily reading through the lines of the script, as the artists paint deep red lines into the sides of his cheeks. You give him a halfhearted wave as you take a seat a few feet away, cracking all your knuckles in nervous anticipation as they start powdering your face. 
Levi and Hange walk over, hands on their hips, as they look over to the two of you for weary eyes.
“Are you ready?” Levi asks. 
You give him a nod, Eren shooting two thumbs up to them, as they both squint their eyes. They don’t believe you.  
“Just one kiss. It’s not a big deal – you’re both grown adults. And you’ve done it before! So it’s not awkward. If anything, it’s like a peck. Just a quick one and you’ll be good, Y/N.” Hange adds. 
Eren glares at Hange.
“If it’s not awkward, why are you being weird about it?” Eren deadpans. 
Hange deflates. 
“Right then. Well, legs up in five!” Hange responds, before shuffling off to the other side of the room with Levi. You can hear the two of the murmuring under their breaths, rolling your eyes at how utterly disbelieving the two of them were of you. 
You turn to Eren, the two of you giving each other a shared annoyed look, before you turn back and focus on the scene at hand. You watch as the entire crew tasks themselves with testing the lights, pulling the cameras into view, and scribbling quickly on the clapperboard. 
It’s fairly simple. You just have to stand there and kiss him. No lines, no big confession – just one kiss.  
The cast stages you and Eren – bustling hands fixing the lapels of your clothes, the stray strands of your hair as you and Eren look at each other. 
“Hey.” 
Eren smiles. He seems fairly calm, considering things. You on the other hand, you can’t help but feel that bubbling ball of anxiety pulsating in your stomach. 
“Hi Y/N. How are you today?” 
“I’m good. Good, good. You?” you respond. 
“Great.” Eren responds. 
You shove your hands into your pockets, wiping the accumulating sweat on the inside of the pants, when you feel the little plastic box in your pocket. 
“I have something for you actually.” you add. 
You pull the box of Tic-Tacs out of your pocket, before holding them out in front of Eren. He gives you a hearty laugh, before cupping his hands and holding them out to you and you pour three in his hand, before downing your own. 
“That was very self-preservationist of you. But, I’ll have you know that I didn’t eat anything all day just to avoid this type of issue.” 
You snort. 
“No way.” 
“They had pizza for lunch. God forbid I taste like marinara sauce when you kiss me. I’m not a dog.” Eren responds. 
“I’ll admit. I did eat the pizza, but then I vigorously brushed my teeth for like five minutes.” you respond. 
Eren smiles, placing his hands on his cheeks. 
“All for me? I’m flattered, Y/N.” 
You smile. 
“Okay. So, like…do we need a gameplan? Do I lean towards the right? The left? Do you have a preference? Because I can –” 
You watch as Eren’s eyes go wide, as he looks at you like you’ve grown another head. 
You can tell that he’s trying not to laugh. You glare at him, huffing as you cross your hands over your chest. 
“What?” you seethe. 
“Are you…staging a kiss right now?” 
“Just so we’re on the same page! You know, I don’t want to just lunge at you and catch you off guard.” you respond. 
Eren smiles, before reaching forward and placing one of his hands on your neck. He uses his thumb to rub into the softness of your cheek, before narrowing his eyes at you. You can tell what he’s trying to say. 
Relax. 
“Okay, okay. I’ll just do what feels right. Sorry for being weird.” you respond. 
Eren shrugs. 
“S’not weird. I just think you’re overthinking it. We’ve done it hundreds of times. It’s on your move anyways, so you’re in control.” Eren responds. 
“You guys ready?” 
You and Eren look over at Levi and Hange, their legs crossed in the director’s chair, as you give them a nod. You turn back to Eren, who gives you a mini-salute, as you back up a few steps and shake your hands at your sides. 
“Alright, Y/N, we’re rolling. On your move.” Levi calls. 
It’s like your feet are cemented into the ground. You can feel the unease that had been pooling in your stomach all day wash over you as you become acutely aware of how thick and warm the air is. It’s almost like it’s weighing down on you – hanging heavy on your skin, nearly throwing you off balance. 
You try to shake the feeling off, shutting your eyes before cracking each of the knuckles in your fingers. You can see it out of your peripheral vision, Levi shifting his head to the side to look at Hange, and the embarrassment bubbles in your throat. 
“I’m good. I just need a second, sorry.” 
Levi shakes his head. 
“Take your time. Whatever feels right.” Levi responds, giving you a comforting enough smile. 
It’s just a kiss. You’ve done it hundreds of times. 
The walk towards him, though it’s only two or three steps, is excruciatingly long. The clothes are too starched, too constricting, as you reach forward, and press your hands to Eren’s cheeks. The makeup pressed to his skin comes off on your hand, as you tilt his head up – slotting your lips against his. 
Eren’s quick with it. His lips quickly glide over yours, the familiar taste of the mint you had just offered him lingering, as he lifts his hands too, pulling your face closer to his. 
Eren can feel it – your entire body freezing against his, like the first time he had ever kissed you. The urge to swoop in and fix it, even though you’re the one who was supposed to take the lead is too overwhelming. 
He knows it’ll crush you if you don’t do it right. 
(And maybe Eren’s a little selfish.)
You can feel the blood rushing to your head, as Eren brings his hands up – one hand cupping your cheek and the other one slithering around your back to pull you closer. You nearly gasp into his mouth as he leans forward this time, the softness of his hands making you melt in his hands. 
It’s Eren. Tender, soft, and intoxicating. You don’t want to stop. You return the kiss in full this time, properly leaning forward and giving it back. 
But Eren’s the one who pulls away, resting his head against your forehead, as he lightly squeezes at your neck, where his hands are resting. You’re both panting in tandem, eyes still pinched shut and foreheads pressed together, as you swallow hard and try to catch your breath. 
“Hey guys. Quick note for you.” 
You both flinch at the sound of Hange’s voice in your ears, awkwardly taking a step away from each other, as a different embarrassment washes over you. You avert your eyes from Eren and look at Hange, who shoots you a weird look before focusing back on Eren. 
“Hm? What, Hange?” Eren mumbles. You can see him out of your peripheral vision – lifting his fingers and pressing them to his lips, a slight shake in his hand. 
“Eren, honey. She just decapitated you. Like, cut your head off. You are dead.” Hange clarifies. 
“Right?” Eren hums. 
“So, you can’t use your hands to kiss her. You don’t have hands anymore! And…and that was way too lively for someone who is supposed to be dead. Tone down the excitement a little.” Hange responds before shuffling off, as Eren’s cheeks go bright pink. 
Eren turns back to you, giving you a sheepish smile, as you shake your head. 
There was no need to be embarrassed. Not when you were the one who led wrong and he was trying to fix it. 
Not when you enjoyed that way more than you should have. 
Eren watches as you march back to your spot, shaking your hands at your side, as you fix your hair. Eren turns back to look at Hange and feels the humiliation increase when they mouth something that looks an awful lot like touch starved. 
Eren throws the thought out of his mind as he leans back again, tucking his hands behind his back. The situation is less than ideal, with his eyes closed – because Eren doesn’t really clock that you’re kissing him until you’re actually doing it. 
It’s your sweet hands cradling his face and then the warmth against his lips – before he can feel himself sinking into your embrace.
You can tell that Eren’s more apprehensive this time, as you flutter your eyes shut and lightly bump your nose against his on accident. You pull him up closer to you, scanning his face and smiling, before you lean forward and rub into the skin on his cheek. You can’t help but smile as you lean forward, the anticipation palpable as you press your lips to his. 
Eren can still feel his heart thrumming, at the way you’re so carefully holding him like glass, while making him feel like his body was on fire. He’s caught off guard when he feels your tongue against his, unable to contain his smile. 
You pull back, your lips burning and skin humming, as Eren looks at you, with a soft smile on his face. You give his cheek a little pinch, which he responds to by giving you a wink, before Levi walks over – his hands crossed over his chest. 
Eren groans. 
“What did I do now?” 
“Not you, Eren. Y/N. Well, you too, but she started it. Y/N, you just murdered the love of your life. LIke fully, had to be the one to murder him even though you didn’t want to because you were the only one strong enough to do it.” 
“Right.” 
“Could you not…smile into the kiss? You have no reason to be smiling.”
You cringe. 
“Right! Right, so sorry, Levi. Won’t happen again.” 
“Okay, because. You smile and then he smiles because you did. And again, just for extreme clarification, he is dead. This is supposed to be sad.” 
Levi rolls his eyes, as he shuffles back to the chair. You spare him a glance while Eren isn’t looking and he mouths something that looks an awful lot like the word freak. You shake him off, as you turn back to Eren, giving him a sheepish smile. 
“Sorry.” you offer. 
“Not a problem. I love it when you smile.” Eren responds, running his fingers over his lips again before he drops them. 
You can feel your head spinning. 
“Okay. Last one.” you clarify. 
“Third time’s a charm, princess.” Eren responds. 
You walk back to the spot, before you wait for Levi to give you the cue. And this time, walk forward as slowly as you can and repeat it to yourself. No hands, no smiling, no tongue.  
You reach forward, placing your hands around his neck, and lean forward. You slide your lips over his, circling your fingers into his neck to ground yourself into the touch rather than his intoxicating smell, as you kiss him. It’s overwhelmingly tender this time – the way you linger over him, before you pull back and let go. 
But the second you pull apart, it’s an immediate pang in your chest. It felt too final. 
“That was great guys! That’s the one.” Hange responds, as you look over and give them a smile. 
You awkwardly drop your hands, letting go of Eren, as he offers you a polite smile in response, holding out his hand to give you a high-five. You oblige, slapping your hand into his, though you can’t help but notice that the smile he gave barely reached his eyes. 
--
On your way out, you can feel the steaming that was pooling under your skin fizzle out as you walk out into the cold air, as you start marching on the pavement back to the townhouse. You prepare yourself for the unnecessary barrage of questions, and for how irritating Connie can be, as you push into the foyer. 
When you walk into the main room, it’s unexpectedly quieter than you thought it was going to be, the faint sound of the piano getting louder as you walk closer. And when you push into the room, the quiet warmth that was blooming under your skin is replaced with an ice cold pinch when you catch sight of what’s happening. 
Historia’s playing the piano, for the group of them. 
Mikasa looks up at you immediately, giving you wide eyes, as you press your hands to your temples, and look to your left. Jean and Connie give you the same look, the group of you all sweltering in the awkwardness, as you avert your gaze back to Historia. 
You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt
Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse
Because I dropped your hand while dancing Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing Champagne problems
Your mom's ring in your pocket My picture in your wallet Your heart was glass, I dropped it Champagne problems
Eren walks in right behind you, nearly bumping into you, as you press your hand to his forearm and squeeze hard. 
“Wha-” 
“Be quiet!” you whisper. 
Eren gives you a puzzled look, as you watch his eyes scan around the room, and watch the realization register in his face. He looks down at you, giving you an awkward look, as you shake your head. The two of you avert your gaze to the left again, to find Sofia crying with one of her hands pressed to her chest. 
How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through
One for the money, two for the show I never was ready, so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you
"She would've made such a lovely bride What a shame she's fucked in the head, " they said But you'll find the real thing instead She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred
Watching Ymir is like watching someone get sucker punched in the face in real time. It reminds you of the same reaction that Eren gave you the other day, while you were filming, a visceral physical reaction. You watch as Ymir stumbles back, nearly loses her balance, as the tears start collecting in her eyes. 
And even worse, watch as Sofia tries to reach for her but Ymir pushes her away. 
And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems
Your mom's ring in your pocket Her picture in your wallet You won't remember all my Champagne problems
You won't remember all my Champagne problems
The second she stops playing, Ymir runs up the stairs – her feet leaving a pounding sound before the door slams shut. And you watch as Sofia takes a deep and heavy breath, before running out the front door. 
--
You find Sofia two hours later, a block and a half away from the townhouse, on a bench. You reach down, picking up her bike off of where it’s toppled on the concrete, and rest it against the edge of the armrest, before taking the seat next to her. 
Sofia doesn’t hesitate to talk – like almost half of the people you know. 
“Is Ymir okay?” she asks. 
You shake your head. 
“Last I know, Eren and Mikasa went to talk to her. I’m sure they talked her down.” you respond. 
Sofia gives you a nod, inhaling shakily, as she hikes her knees to her chest. You can barely see her face – the hood pulled over her head obscuring her face – as she presses her cheeks into her knees. 
“I didn’t think she was going to sing it. I’m really sorry, I –” 
“Did you know that Historia asked Ymir to get back together with her yesterday?” 
You deflate. 
“Yes. She told me right before I went to film with Eren.” you respond. 
Sofia doesn’t respond. It’s chilling – to see someone you’ve only seen smiling for the past week and a half so defeated in one fell swoop. And even more than that, knowing how small it can feel to be competing with things that feel larger than life, in an entire world that you don’t feel like you’re a part of. 
“Ymir said no. I know she really loves you.” you offer. 
“I know she did. She came and told me right after it happened. She walked in all hot and heavy, nearly red in the face, pissed at the audacity Historia had to say that.” Sofia states. 
She pulls her hood back, resting her head against the back of the bench, as she flutters her eyes shut. 
“There’s nothing that…that gets Ymir moving like Historia. Whether she’s mad…or happy…or sad, no one can make Ymir feel as much as Historia does. If Historia and her have a good talk about how they’re always going to be important to each other, she’s on top of the fucking world. If she gets on her hands and knees and begs for her back, it’s enough to send her into a blind rage. And if she sings a song about how she got away…it’s enough to send her sobbing into her room.” 
You swallow hard. 
“I feel like I’m intruding on people who are meant to be. I don’t think I should be here.” she adds, her voice cracking. 
You shake your head.
“Ymir really loves you, I-I can just tell by the way that she looks at you. It would kill her if you left, Sofia.” 
She shrugs. 
“I know I’m never going to be Historia. And I know that first loves and…and sexual awakenings or whatever are sacred to people, but…I can’t sit here when I’m not even a part of the competition. I’m smart enough to know when two people still care about each other more than they should. I feel like I’m committing a fucking crime by keeping them apart.” Sofia responds. 
You bite down into the hardness of your cheek, before leaning your head against her shoulder. She welcomes the touch, leaning her own against yours before you break the silence. 
“I don’t necessarily think you’re wrong. There isn’t anyone that gets Ymir going like Historia. But that doesn’t mean that they’re right for each other. It doesn’t mean that you aren’t Ymir’s perfect match.” you respond. 
You shift. 
“Just because Ymir gets to these big…big emotions with Historia doesn’t make her better than you. In fact, I think that’s the leg that you have up on her. Why you’re the one who is marrying Ymir and not her.” 
“Really?” she whispers. 
“I’m not sure how familiar you are with Jean and Mikasa’s situation but –” 
“I know. Jean slept over at our house once when they were fighting. We ate ice cream together at three in the morning and talked till the sun rose.” 
You smile. 
“Jean told me that there’s lots of different types of love that you have in your life. And I just think that there’s one person…or one situation that deeply cuts into you, so hard that it changes you. I think that’s what Historia is for Ymir. Because to her, it must have been devastating that she would have done anything, that she could have changed herself any type of way, and she still wouldn’t be enough for her. I think that would get anyone moving, being reminded of the deep hurt, the complicated feelings that come with that person.” you respond. 
You feel your phone buzz, as you look at the little screen. 
[eren]: did you find her?  [eren]: ymir wants to see her.  [eren]: really badly. 
You respond back, before turning back to her. You have to turn this around for Ymir. 
“The big feelings aren’t the ones you chase after, Sofia. They fizzle out eventually, when the spark is gone. You pick based on comfort, on consistency. And Historia’s never…been consistent. She could never give Ymir what she wanted like you could. Like you do.” 
Sofia gives you a halfhearted smile. 
“You’re really sweet, Y/N. I really like you.” 
You smile, your chest panging with hurt. 
“I really like you too, Sofia. I hope you know that Historia didn’t do any of that to hurt you. She just…feels first, thinks second. It’s how she’s always been. And it’s not fair to you, but…but I hope you know it’s not personal. Or anything about you.” 
Sofia puts a hand on your shoulder. 
“Thanks.” 
You can tell that she’s ruminating over your words and the two of you sit there quietly, dangling your legs over the side of the bench, as you wait for Ymir. Your stomach rumbles loudly, as you shoot her an apologetic smile. 
“Sorry. I didn’t take my lunch after Eren and I were done filming.” 
Sofia’s eyes light up, through the redness and puffiness. 
“Didn’t you kiss?” 
You groan. You only oblige the conversation because you know she means well. 
“Yes. We kissed.” 
“Was it hot?” Sofia asks. 
You snort. 
“Um…kind of. I accidentally used my tongue the second time.” 
Sofia gasps, excitedly pressing her hands to her chest as she leans forward. 
“The second time? Meaning you did it more than once?” you ask. 
You bury your face in your hands. 
“Three times. He…he got too into it the first time. Then I got too into it the second time. It’s supposed to be a really sad scene but –”  
“But you guys are horny, I get it.” Sofia finishes. 
“We’re not–” 
“Ymir says you guys eye fuck each other. I thought she was being kind of crude, but you really do.” 
You groan. 
“Sofia–” 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You guys are actually really cute and I hope you don’t think we’re all pressuring you. I just think it’s really neat the little things you guys do for each other. Connie was telling me about the mints that you got him before you kissed.” 
“Oh. Yeah. I was just kind of trying to break the ice so he was comfortable and stuff.” 
“No, I totally get what you mean. Okay, like. The first time Ymir and I went on a date, I was so ready to kiss her – I had been thinking about it all week. And before we got into the car, I ate an entire box of Altoids.” 
“An entire box? Doesn’t that get painful after a while?” 
“Listen, she’s like way out of my league. I had to impress her! Plus, it gets rid of that doubt in my head when I lean in and stuff.” 
“You wanted to impress her with minty breath?” 
“Okay, don’t question my methods. She’s my fianceé now. After we kissed and I went home,  Ymir told me that she really enjoyed it. So every time I went to see her, I would eat another box just so that she would enjoy it again.” 
“You know that Ymir hates mints, right?” 
“Is this just common knowledge that everyone knew or something? I literally had no idea. Mikasa told me a month later and I was fucking furious. God, I never bought another pack again.” Sofia complains. 
“You didn’t? I thought you said it got rid of the doubt.” 
“Yeah but, why would I? She doesn’t like them. I got over it.” Sofia states. 
You pause, leaning your head back. You refuse to comment on it, because winning her over was Ymir’s battle. And you surely hoped Ymir would be able to do it, because this was, in fact, her perfect match. 
Who would give up trivial things for her, like kneeling on the ground or chugging mints, just because Ymir asked. Just because it would make her happier. 
“How did Connie know I gave Eren the mints? Hange kicked him out.” you state. 
“Oh. He climbed onto the roof. That kiss was really important to him and Mikasa.” Sofia states. 
You roll your eyes. 
“Of course it was.” 
You scoff, before shaking your head. It’s enough to make her laugh through her tears. And surely enough, Ymir and Eren appear after twenty minutes – out of breath and panting. You take the cue and jump off the bench, reaching for Eren’s outstretched hand, as the two of you quietly walk back to the townhouse and leave them to it. 
“They’ll be fine.” Eren murmurs, trying to pull you into walking the other way. He’s trying to reassure you. 
You look up at him and smile. 
“Yeah, I’m sure they will be.”
--
Jean and Mikasa don’t do bachelor or bachelorette parties. Early on, Eren had clocked that something like that, a party celebrating them get married without the other present, wasn’t something that wouldn’t even be remotely fun to them. 
But you still had to do something. Which is why Eren settled for throwing the two of them a laid back party after filming at the end of the week, with enough alcohol for them to get drunk to their hearts desire. 
“Sometimes I have genuine concern for how their livers are still functioning.” Eren states. 
You avert your gaze from Gabi and Falco – who are sitting in the corner playing a very intense game of cards together and giggling – to Jean and Mikasa, who are very drunkenly dancing with Niccolo and Sasha, who unfortunately got roped into it. 
“Tell me about it.” you respond. 
You can’t help but smile as Niccolo takes turns spinning Mikasa around, as Sasha and Jean attempt a very dangerous version of a dip, which results in Jean dropping her flat on the floor. Eren’s ready to jump up, but Armin gestures for him to keep sitting before jumping up. 
“Sometimes I think it’s sweet though. I think back to all those award shows and realize that they probably had a really great time together. Just dancing together, enjoying each other's company.” you respond. 
“Yeah. That first one we did though was really fun. I mean, Sukuna and the lollipop thing was like really fucking annoying. But besides that, I really liked that we were all just sitting together having a good time.” 
You snort. 
“Do you ever think about how…important moments seem after the fact? And that…sometimes you don’t really know how much something will mean later?” you ask. 
“What do you mean?” 
“When we went to Seattle, I was talking with Lana. And I was telling her that Sukuna and I are nowhere near as close as you and her are. And she was telling me that Sukuna and I were like that. And that back then, when I met him, I was the one of the first people to kind of… understand that he was joking. To not immediately think bad of him or be weirded out by it, I guess.” you respond. 
Eren shrugs. 
“I guess. I mean, you showing up for my birthday dinner, it must have seemed to you that I was being so reserved when I left with Hyla. But that was the moment for me that I knew I wanted to be out of that thing, that kind of started everything.” Eren responds. 
You feel your cheeks heat up. And you’re sure that the four shots that Mikasa gave you earlier, the slight buzz in your veins, is what makes you say it. 
“This is one of them too. The important moments I’ll look back on.” you respond. 
You watch as Eren’s eyes go wide, before he awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck and smiles at the ground. 
“How so?” 
“All of this time that I get to spend with you. It’s up there, with everything else.” 
Eren reaches forward, linking his hand in with yours, before he squeezes three times. 
“Me too.” 
The two of you keep your hands that way, linked together and raised in the air, before the wind nearly gets knocked out of you by Jean leaning his entire weight on you. You can see that Mikasa is doing the same to Eren, hands tangled around his neck and nearly strangling him. 
“Did you guys know you’re the best maid of honor and best man ever?” Mikasa whines. 
Eren takes her hands, untangling them from cutting off his circulation, before letting her lean against his shoulder. You can see that he’s pleasantly surprised from the affection, wrapping his arm around her and leaning his head against hers as well. 
“Yes, Mikasa. We know.” Eren responds. 
“Stop being cocky, Eren.” Jean grumbles, as you turn your head to the side to smile at him. 
“Yeah, Eren.” you respond, emphasizing each syllable as he rolls his eyes. 
Eren shakes his head at the two of you, before looking down at Mikasa. 
“Are you ready for your gift, Mika?” Eren asks. 
“What? Really?” 
Eren gives her a nod as she nearly jumps up with excitement, teetering on the heels of her feet as Eren momentarily disappears to grab the little tape. Jean looks down at you, giving you a steely glare, as you roll your eyes. 
“What, Jean?”
“You are getting me a gift, right?” 
“Do you think I’m a nutjob? Obviously, I’m getting you a gift. You’re getting married.” 
“It better blow my fucking mind, Y/N. I have seriously high hopes after finding out what Eren got Mikasa.” 
You grin. 
“Trust me. It’s going to be everything you wanted and more.” 
Jean glares at you. 
“I don’t like your tone. If it’s a gag gift, you’re not meeting any of my children.” 
“They’re also Mikasa’s children. She’ll let me see them.” 
“No, I won’t let her.” 
“You don’t own the kids, Jean.” 
“The fuck do you mean? They’re my kids.” 
You elbow him in the sides. 
“These aren’t even real kids yet! Why are you getting territorial over people who don’t even exist yet?” 
Mikasa slings her arm around both of your shoulders, before squeezing the two of you way too hard under her grip. The two of you give each other wide eyes as she nearly cuts off your circulation and scolds both of you. 
“Why are you guys always so mean to each other? I thought you guys were getting along.” 
“We do get along!” Jean responds. 
“So along! We’re two peas in a pod!” you respond. 
Mikasa slightly loosens her grip as Eren walks up, twisting the little CD in his hand, as he eyes the three of you. She absentmindedly links her arm in with his and Jean, as Jean and Eren mimic their motions and loop you into the circle. 
There’s tears bubbling in her eyes, as you and Eren spare each other a glance, and prepare yourself for the waterworks that are going to follow. Mikasa was always an emotional drunk. 
“Thank you guys for planning such a good party for us. And for being really good friends to us.” Mikasa responds, voice cracking. 
You smile, cheeks nearly hurting, as you squeeze Eren and Jean’s arms. 
“Of course, Mikasa. You-” 
“We’re never going to be able to repay you both. I never forgot how many times you both took the fall for us back in the day whenever Levi got mad at us for switching our rooms around. And that you guys always did it whenever we asked.” 
Eren shakes his head. 
“I promise that we wanted to switch rooms just as badly as you guys did. Relax, Mikasa.” 
“I want you guys to be so happy. You guys are both such good people that it makes my heart hurt. You’re so, so perfect for each other.” 
You can feel Eren stiffen at your side as your cheeks heat up, the awkwardness sweltering in the air. 
“Thank you, Mikasa. That’s very sweet of you.” 
“I want my kids to be like ring bearers or flower girls at your wedding! I want our kids to be best friends like we were best friends and make those stupid videos like we used to do back in the day.” 
“Speaking of those videos, can I give you your gift now, Mikasa?” Eren asks. 
Mikasa lifts her hands, wiping the wetness off of her face, as she nods. Eren walks towards the TV, setting up the little video player, as you grab the group of them and signal them to join you around the couch to watch the video. 
The song starts playing, the soft little piano, of a song you had coincidentally written about Jean and Mikasa years prior. You and Jean had visited Mikasa on the set of one of her old films, Emma, and you had half heartedly scribbled some lyrics about it. You were able to find the old book in the back of your drawers and piece it together properly with Armin and Niccolo’s help. 
When Emma falls in love, she paces the floor Closes the blinds and locks the door When Emma falls in love, she calls up her mom Jokes about the ways that this one could go wrong She waits and takes her time 'Cause Little Miss Sunshine always thinks it's gonna rain When Emma falls in love, I know That boy will never be the same
'Cause she's the kind of book that you can't put down Like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town And all the bad boys would be good boys If they only had a chance to love her And to tell you the truth, sometimes I wish I was her
Eren pieced together the perfect videos. You’re positive that he’s stolen from all of Levi’s old tapes, as well as the dumb camera that the group of you all used in the early seasons. The clips are all of Jean and Mikasa – of such seemingly unimportant moments that nearly make your heart burst at the sight of the two of them now. 
There’s sprinkles of you and Eren in the videos, of the two of you recording them in the background holding hands when you were trying to catch their attention. And of Connie and Reiner just blowing kissy faces at them or Sasha and Bertholdt trying to imitate the two of them. 
Nearly everyone’s laughing at the clips – at how little Jean and Mikasa look at all of the clips – and Mikasa secures her hand in with yours. 
“Is that you singing? Did you write this song about me?” 
“Yeah. Way back when you filmed Emma.” 
You can see her face curl up in emotion, before she leans her head against your shoulder. She still has one of her hands wrapped in with Eren’s, stopping every few seconds to give him a really big smile that you can tell means the world to him. 
Emma met a boy with eyes like a man Turns out her heart fits right in the palm of his hand Now he'll be her shelter when it rains Little does he know, his whole world's about to change
'Cause she's the kind of book that you can't put down Like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town And all the bad boys would be good boys If they only had a chance to love her And to tell you the truth, sometimes I wish I was her Yeah, between me and you, sometimes I wish I was her
The clip ends with the group of you hugging, when you had finished wrapping season one. You remember the moment distinctly – the dread that came with it. Because you didn’t know if you were going to get a season two, if anyone was even going to like the show, or if you’d ever see any of them again. 
Armin initiates it first, by leaning forward over the couch and wrapping his arm around Eren and Mikasa. And then one by one, you’re all piling on each other – warm tears in your eyes as everyone ruffles Jean and Mikasa’s hair – the two of them pink in the face with their tears. 
You stand up to pop the CD out of the box as you watch Eren and Mikasa give each other a long hug, Eren responding warmly to the babbling mess coming out of her mouth. 
“Eren. Eren, I love you so much.” 
“I love you too, Mikasa.” 
“This is perfect. This is so perfect, you’re one of my best friends ever, you know that?” 
Eren laughs, before placing both of his hands on her shoulders. 
“You’re one of my best friends too, Mikasa. Save one dance for me at the wedding, okay?” 
“Of course. Of course, of course we have to dance together. You can’t leave me hanging, Eren.” 
“This was my idea! And you’re the one who’s going to be so busy. Just don’t forget me.” 
You’re caught off guard from watching the two of them when you feel a tapping on your shoulder to find Ymir at your side. You give her a smile as you both lean against the wall. 
“Hey.” 
“I was wondering if you could do me a favor. You can say no.” Ymir states. 
“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” 
“That was…a really sweet song you wrote about Mikasa. I’ve always really loved how you can feel the emotion in songs you write.” 
You smile. 
“Is there any way that you could write a song with me? About Sofia? Because, we’re good but I want her to know that she means the world to me. And she’s been a fan of yours for so long that I think that it would be something that was really special to her. And I know that things are complicated because of Historia and that you might have picked a side, but I’m just asking you for this as your friend and –” 
“I’m on your side too.” you state. 
“Hm?” 
“Historia is my friend. But you are too. And I want you and Sofia to be happy, I really like her and I really like you.” 
You watch as Ymir deflates. 
“Really?” 
“You’re meant to be together. I think that she can really love you in the way that you deserve.” 
Ymir leans forward, uncharacteristically affectionate, as she wraps her arms around you and squeezes your arms. 
“You’re a really good person, Y/N.” Ymir states. 
You laugh. 
“You must be as drunk as Mikasa.” 
“No, no I really mean it. You always have really good intentions at heart. I know that your whole lover girl branding must be…frustrating to look at after everything that happened. But that’s always who you’ve been, with all of us. It’s a really good part of you.” Ymir states. 
You smile. 
“You’re speaking really highly of me. All I did was say I was going to write a song with you, Ymir.” 
“I think you deserve really good things. People have given you way too much hurt than you deserve.” 
--
The following morning, you’re able to snag Armin to help you play Ymir’s song for Sofia. And surely enough, you can feel it radiating as you watch her face light up, the way she nearly beams at the two of you as you sing. 
You sit abandoned in the room, hours after Armin, Ymir, and Sofia trickle away. 
Only because it’s so overwhelming that it nearly suffocates you. The love in the room. 
Ymir and Sofia. Jean and Mikasa and Gabi and Falco. The way Eren and Armin have reconciled and how you always see Levi smiling at you from the back of the room when the group of you are messing around. 
You’re so full of it that you can barely breathe, so nervously anxious that it makes your stomach hurt. 
“You okay?” 
You look up to find Eren looking down at you. At the love in the room, staring at you so intently. 
“Yeah.” 
“I had a question.” 
You tap the open seat on the couch next to you, shuffling to the side, as he joins you. 
“Sure. What’s up?”
You watch as Eren leans forward on his knees, eyes trained on the ground as he cracks through each of the knuckles in his fingers. 
“You can say no. You don’t have to feel obligated to answer in any way because it was just an idea I had. I won’t be hurt if you don’t want to, or…or had other plans I don’t know about because you’re obviously entitled to that! And you know, it’s a harmless type of thing that I just wanted to –” 
“Eren.” 
He pauses, looking up at you. 
“Just ask.” you finish. 
“Will you be my date to the wedding?” Eren asks. 
You feel the butterflies swarming in your stomach as you smile at him, squeezing your hands into fists as you hold them close to your chest. 
“Really?” 
“Yeah. Yeah, I want to go with you. We’re doing a song together and…and we’re all good. It would be nice to be together, like we did back when we wrote invisible string. That and I kind of need you to point out all the love in the room for me just so I can remember it all.” Eren responds. 
You smile. 
“Of course. We’ll take turns. I’ll point one out and then you.” 
Eren grins. 
“Deal.” 
You reach forward, placing your pointer finger against his chest. He looks down before looking back up at you, confused. 
“What?” he asks. 
“You just asked me to point out the love in the room.” 
You watch as Eren leans his head back, unable to contain his smile, as he shoves your hand away and mimics the motion by pointing back.
--
an: anyways ymir requests a song about her relationship with historia later on and they write you're losing me. and yes, you're losing me and champagne problems end up being about the same relationship. also historia being so jo march coded by saying she would accept ymir's proposal now that she's actually with someone else and can't have her....anyways jeankasa wedding oh we cried
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186 notes · View notes
rissouu · 2 months
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plug!eren who loves music so much that every time he fucks you he just has to blast his playlist. like right now, peso by a$ap rocky was the only thing that could be heard in the room, along with your soft moans and his grunts. “f-fuck mama. you gotta let daddy in here baby, ease up.” the brown haired man let his hands roam towards your tummy— gently gripping the slight pudge you had. “mm..m please ren… no more! ‘ts too much,” your free hand came up to his stomach in attempt to push the man away, but there was only so much you could do before he slapped it away. “quit tryna’ make me stop.. i hope you know i’m nuttin’ in this shit too-“ you let out a unfamiliar sound at his words, it wasn’t a moan— more like a whine. even though you tried to hide it, it didn’t take long for eren to catch on.. the way your sweet pussy clenched around him even tighter when he threatened to cum in you said it all. “you like that? want daddy to fill this pretty pussy up, give you my all babies huh?” his vulgar words only egged you on more.. and you surely found yourself liking the thought of carrying his children.. (probably more than you should’ve). “awn s..shit! please pa, wan’ you to cum in me s’bad.” you started babbling, feeling a familiar pit rising in your stomach. eren knew you were too fucked out to even realize what you were saying— what you were agreeing to. but oh well, you’d look cute with your tummy swollen (especially if it was because of him). “i got you my pretty girl.. we gon’ have some beautiful babies.”
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br4tphobia · 9 months
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𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 gets really loud ‘nd messy. your sticky ass bouncing on his pretty dick with your back arched whilst creating a babbling mess under you, “you like that, rennie?” cooing in his ear with his moans muffled by his teeth sucking in his bottom lip “yesyes f—fuck... y’pussy feels so good..." panting out as he grabs on your ass guiding up and down. “so pretty under me like this..” you put your hand on his chest for stability, “g’na c—cum…” “yea? wanna fill me up baby?” you started rolling your hips painfully slow against his, he hummed a ‘yes’ in response “i suggest you use your words if you wanna cum.” your voice laced in tease, causing him to whine at your remark. “yes! i do..” “then lay there lookin’ pretty..let me take care of 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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daisynik7 · 3 months
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Double the Fun
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Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader x Reiner Braun
Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
Word Count: ~3.9k
cw: next-door neighbors Eren and Reiner, modern day au, all characters are mid-twenties, explicit language, p*rn no plot, smut – threesome, vaginal sex, anal sex, anal play, spit play, nipple play, cunnilingus, face-riding, blowjob, hand job (M/M), double-penetration, multiple orgasms from the reader, sex toy use (anal plug), cream pies (in both holes), Reiner is a bit of a perv and sniffs panties (just like how he sniffed Historia’s letter in the finale LOL), pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweetie), slight degradation (use of slut, cock slut, whore, and cock sleeve to address the reader), slight breeding kink, sex without a condom (assuming reader is on some form of birth control)
Summary: You’ve been having a bit of a dry spell recently with how busy you’ve been at work. When you finally manage to snag a date with one of your online dating matches, you’re unfortunately stood up, leaving you in a worse mood than before. Lucky for you, your two hot neighbors are more than willing to cheer you up.  
Author’s Notes: Phew! This one is a doozy! Please make sure you read the content warnings before reading. This is filthy and shameless; I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I LOVE Eren and Reiner together, idk, they just always scratch this everlasting itch I have. I’m still getting used to writing threesomes, so I hope this is okay! Also, this is my first foray into butt stuff and I may have awoken something inside me, LOL. MDNI divider by the loveliest @/cafekitsune. Thank you for reading! 
Taglist: @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @man-knees @slvt-for-smut @antique-remains @aiyaaayei
part 4 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series
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“Are you sure you don’t want me to sit, like, two tables away? What if this guy is sketch?” 
You can spot the obvious concern in Pieck’s voice through the speaker of your phone, which is currently face-up on top of your vanity as you get ready. You finish the last steps of your makeup, inspecting yourself in the mirror, satisfied. “Don’t worry, I’ve got pepper spray in my purse in case he tries anything funny,” you assure your best friend. It’s been a while since you last went on a proper date. Pieck’s always been a worry-wart about you meeting strangers from your online dating apps, constantly reminding you to stay vigilant. Tonight is no different. 
“You should at least let your hot neighbors know that you’re going out, so they can keep an eye out for you,” she suggests, throwing that in casually. Ever since you moved in a few months ago, she’s been rooting for you to hook up with either of the two men next door, Eren Jaeger and Reiner Braun. She’s met them plenty of times in passing and would much rather you date one of them instead of the countless of mysterious men on your current roster. 
There’s no denying that they’re attractive. Eren with his long, dark hair, striking eyes, and toned physique. Reiner with his sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and well-groomed goatee. They also happen to be incredibly friendly towards you, always greeting you in the hallway with a genuine smile, asking how your day went or what you’ll be up to. They’ve invited you for dinner on several occasions, which has always been pleasant, sometimes leaning towards the flirtatious side. You’re sure they’re just nice guys, cordial neighbors looking out for one another. There’s nothing more to it than that, even if a small part of you wants there to be. 
You step back from your reflection, checking yourself out once one more. “I’ll be fine, Pieck.”
“What if I can’t reach you? There should be at least one other person who’s aware of your whereabouts, right?” This is what binging too many true crime documentaries does. Still, you’re grateful for your friend’s concern, knowing it’s all out of love. You can tell she’s actually distressed about this, so you end up agreeing, mostly to appease her. She wishes you well before hanging up as you slip into heels by the door. 
You tug at the hem of your skimpy black dress, hand motionless on the doorknob. It’s your first date in over a month. Work has been so busy that you haven’t had time for romance or sex. The variety of sex toys tucked away in your drawer has been your only solace these past few weeks. To say you’re ready for some real action is an understatement. You’re also incredibly nervous, afraid you’ve lost your groove. That’s why you’ve taken extra measures to fully prepare yourself for anything tonight. 
With a deep breathe, you step out into the hallway, following Pieck’s advice. You knock on your neighbor’s door and Eren is the first to answer. His expression brightens when he realizes it’s you. “Hi,” he greets you, flashing that charming smile of his. He scans you up and down, taking in your appearance. “Wow.”
“Is that a good wow or a bad wow?” you grin, twirling for him. 
He swallows hard, checking you out once more. “Definitely a good wow.”
It’s that extra boost of confidence you need for this date, so you’re appreciative of him. “Thank you, Eren. You’re always so sweet.” 
He crosses his arms over his chest, smirking. “So, hot date tonight?”
You decide to be honest with him. “Yeah. It’s been a minute, so I’m a little nervous.”
“Don’t be. Any guy would be lucky to date you.” His eyes twinkle at you kindly.
You imagine Pieck screaming at you from twenty miles away, begging you to date Eren instead of going out with this random swipe right. Eren is simply a sweet guy paying his neighbor a compliment. There’s nothing more to it than that. Before you get the chance to thank him, Reiner’s deeper voice calls out from inside the apartment. “Who is it?”
Without taking his eyes off you, Eren answers with your name. Soon, the blonde joins him, jaw dropping when he notices you. “Fuck.”
Eren elbows him in the chest, to which Reiner mutters a strained apology. “Sorry. You just look amazing.”
The flattery is almost too much, cheeks warm with embarrassment, stomach fluttering. “Thank you.” Reiner is usually the more forward of the two, blurting out whatever is on his mind, though you’re not complaining. 
Grinning, Reiner asks, “So, who’s the lucky guy?”
“Someone I met online. My friend said I should let my wonderful neighbors know my whereabouts tonight, in case I end up missing,” you explain casually. 
“How morbid,” Eren chuckles. “We’ll keep an eye out for you later so that your friend doesn’t have to worry.”
“I would appreciate that.”
Reiner raises a brow at you. “Unless you’re planning on sleeping with him. We probably won’t see you if it does go well.” He hunches forward when Eren lands another blow to his chest, shutting his roommate up. 
You giggle, agreeing with him. “No, you’re totally right. I’m going to stay optimistic and say that if I don’t come home tonight, that’s a good thing.”
“We’ll hope for the best, then,” Eren replies, beaming. 
You turn to leave, waving farewell to them. Reiner yells out, “Have fun tonight! But not too much fun!”
~~~
You return to your apartment complex less than two hours later, heels clicking loudly on the tiled steps, feet heavy with disappointment. After taking a twenty-minute taxi ride to the restaurant you agreed to meet him at, you proceeded to wait an entire hour only to realize that you’ve been stood up. No text, no reply, no call. You’ve been made a fool, completely humiliated, the night and the rest of your weekend absolutely ruined by this asshole’s no-show.  
It takes you a while to dig through your purse for your keys, patience already worn thin. Frustrated, you groan out loud, staring up at the ceiling. “Why me?”
In the worst timing ever, the door to your left swings open. Eren pops his head out, saying your name curiously.
Reluctantly, you turn to face him. “Hey.”  
He comes out, dressed casually in sweats, hair wrapped in a messy bun with the few stray strands draping the back of his neck. “That was quick.”
With an unconvincing smile, trying to hide the shame that currently consumes you, you admit, “I got stood up.”
His demeanor changes instantly. The concern on his face is endearing, and when he drifts towards you, he reaches out, then drops his arm, unsure how best to console you without crossing any lines. “No way.”
You nod, sighing. “It’s true.”
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He steps closer to you, hesitantly placing his hand on your shoulder, testing the waters. 
You smile at him, enjoying this simple touch of comfort. “It’s fine. It is what it is.”
The two of you linger like this, Eren gazing into your eyes, holding you. His palm is hot on the fabric of your dress, and for a split second, you wonder how pleasant it’d be on your bare skin. And maybe it’s your wishful thinking or your desperation for human contact after being rejected tonight, but you can feel the heat of a spark between you now. Before you let your fantasies drive you to do something unprecedented, you search your bag again, finally retrieving your keys. He lets you go, watching you shove them into the keyhole, unlocking the door. “Are you okay?”
In all honestly, you’re not, but there’s nothing him or anyone else can do about it, right? “I’ll be okay. Sucks that I got all dressed up for this, though. What a waste.”
He doesn’t respond right away, choosing his words carefully. “Well,” he starts, the faintest blush tinged on his cheeks. “It doesn’t have to be.” 
You stare at him, heart beating faster, making sure you’re understanding him correctly. “Really?”
He clears his throat, licking his lips. “Yeah. Maybe we can get some use out of it.”
“We?”
As if on cue, Reiner emerges from inside their apartment, having heard everything. “Fuck that shitty asshole. You’ll have way more fun with us.” He stands next to his roommate, grinning at you.
This time, you do listen to Pieck’s voice in your head, yelling at you to go for it. To let these two alluring neighbors of yours take care of you the way you deserve. Already feeling better, you give them a coy smile, opening the door to let them in. “Okay, then. Come on in.”
~~~
It’s the first time they’ve ever been inside your apartment, though you save the formal tour for later. As soon as the three of you are inside, door shut, shoes off, they’re both kissing you fiercely. Eren faces you, slipping his tongue into your mouth, hot and heavy. He caresses your sides, squeezing the curves of your body through your dress. Reiner is behind you, grip just below Eren’s, firm on your hips. His lips brush delicately on the nape of your neck, groin pressed to your backside, the bulge protruding from his pants growing harder and harder between your ass cheeks. You moan into the kiss, pussy throbbing in your lingerie, eager to be touched by either man, by both of them. Why did you even bother trying to hook up with strangers online when the perfect matches were beside you all along?
Reiner chuckles, breath hot on your ear, voice low and rugged. “You’re really horny, aren’t you? All dolled up and ready to be fucked, huh?” There he goes again, blunt and straightforward and so fucking sexy, exactly what you need tonight. 
And here is Eren, soft and gentle, committed to kissing you, whispering sweet nothings any chance he gets. “You’re beautiful. Such a gorgeous girl. So pretty for us.” Also exactly what you need. 
You lead them into your bedroom, Eren flipping on the light switch, keeping his lips on you while Reiner strips out of his clothes, starting with his pants. Eren does the same, hoisting his shirt off, revealing his impressive figure. You attempt to slip out of your dress, but Reiner stops you. “Keep it on,” he rasps, down to his underwear now, boner more obvious, poking out from his briefs.  
Eren pinches your butt, snapping the tight fabric to your skin. “We’re not letting this go to waste, remember?”
You nod mindlessly, brain hazy with lust, too eager to be fucked. “Fuck me,” you beg, spit smeared all over your lips. 
They both laugh softly, walking you towards the bed. “So impatient, so needy,” Eren coos, positioning himself in front of you, toying with the hem of the skirt.
Reiner sits up against the headboard, propping you up on his lap, your back pressed to his muscular chest. “What’s the rush, baby?” he teases, licking a stripe behind your ear. “We’re going to take care of you. Right, Eren?”
Eren bites his lip as he works your dress up past your thighs until it’s bunched up at your hips, exposing your soaked thong on your wet cunt. “Oh fuck yeah,” he huffs, salivating. “Gonna make you feel so good. Make you come so fucking much.”
You spread your legs wider for him, a pathetic whine escaping your throat, more and more desperate by the second. He hooks his finger on the crotch of your panties, smirking at the string of arousal that stretches between the fabric and you. “So fucking wet, holy shit.” 
He tugs it all the way off your legs, tossing it over to Reiner, who brings it up to his nose, taking a big whiff. “Such a slut for wearing these on a first date. Our naughty girl.” He lets your lingerie fall from his grasp onto the floor, sliding to the plush of your thighs, keeping your legs spread apart. 
Eren dives in, spreading his wide tongue flat on your clit, moving it side-to-side, stimulating you into your first orgasm. Your knees twitch from the sensation, the pleasure rippling through you like waves of ecstasy. You turn your head towards Reiner’s, opening your mouth, pleading him for a kiss. He obliges, sticking his tongue inside you, slurping up your saliva, hungry for it. “You’re so fucking nasty,” he growls, reaching for the drawer beside the bed. “Bet you have toys hiding in here. Why don’t we have some more fun and play with them?” You whimper wantonly, keen on the idea of Reiner using whatever he wants on you to make you come again. 
He finds exactly what he’s looking for: your precious anal plug, tapered on one end, heart-shaped gem on the other. When he pulls it out, he barks out a laugh, almost like he can’t believe his luck. “You really are a whore,” he whispers in your ear, sinister and wicked, about to have too much fun with this. “Did you prep yourself to be fucked in the ass? Be honest.” Even Eren pauses, peering up at you, curious. 
“Yes,” you mewl, squirming with arousal, body tingling all over.
Eren’s chuckle reverberates against your clit, releasing you from his mouth to lap at your wet slit. “Good girl,” he muffles, collecting your cum on his tongue. “So perfect for us.”
The dynamic between them spurs you on, Eren playing the good guy, Reiner playing bad. Both of them work together with a common goal in mind: to cheer up their pretty neighbor from what would have been a bummer of a night. But already, you’re thankful that you were stood up; you’re certain now that this is the much better alternative. 
“Eren, switch spots with me,” Reiner demands. “And you,” he says, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “On your stomach.”
You both obey him without protest. Eren leans against the headboard with a dazed look in his eyes, licking his shiny, cum-coated lips. He smiles as you gaze up at him, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, stroking him. You open wide, tapping the tip of his dick on your tongue before sinking down on him until you’re too the hilt, swallowing him into the back of your throat. He cups yours cheeks, caressing you gently. “So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth. My gorgeous girl.” You accept the praise shamelessly, relishing the distinct taste of him.
From behind, Reiner worships you, squeezing your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to ogle at your fluttering hole. Without warning, he hocks a frothy wad of spit directly onto it, teasing his thumb on the rim. “Fuck, baby,” he utters as you moan on Eren’s cock. “I’m gonna put it in now, okay?”
You nod, taking Eren deeper, your nose pressed to his groin, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth, bracing yourself. The plug is slick with lube as Reiner pushes it in carefully until the heart-shaped jewel is flush to your hole. He swears under his breath, marveling at the sight before him, cock pulsating in his fist. You stay like this for a while, adjusting to the toy inside you. It really did help that you prepared for this earlier. 
“So sexy,” Eren murmurs from above you, staring on your backside. “You take it so good, sweetheart.”
“Like an obedient slut,” Reiner adds, using his thumb to push the plug the slightest bit deeper. He lifts your hips to position himself below you so that you’re straddling his face. “Can you come again, baby?”
“Of course she can. She’s our good girl,” Eren purrs, petting your head softly as you continue to blow him. 
Reiner eats you out sloppily, different from Eren, who’s intentional with his every move. It sends you into another frenzy, pushing you closer and closer over the edge, especially when he begins playing with the plug, pumping it in and out of you slowly. You’re overstimulated with Eren’s hot cock throbbing in your mouth, clit swollen on Reiner’s tongue, and asshole puckered around the smooth glass of the plug. You reach your climax easily, gushing all over Reiner’s face, riding out your orgasm until you’ve completely soaked him in your juices. He drinks it all up, messy and greedy for every drop of you he can scour. He really is as insatiable as you imagined he’d be. 
You release Eren to catch your breath, to which he tips your chin up to face him. “You’re incredible,” he says, the familiar twinkle in his eyes making your heart race. You paw at his chest, crawling up to meet him for a kiss. 
Reiner quickly joins the two of you, not wanting to be left out, rubbing his hard cock between your ass cheeks. You kiss the both of them at the same time, all of your saliva mingling together into a hot, wet mess that you’re currently intoxicated by. After a moment, Eren pulls back. “Does our pretty girl want to get fucked now?”
“Show us how big of a cock slut you are,” Reiner grunts, circling the jeweled end of the plug, teasing your hole. 
Eren helps remove the dress off you completely, hoisting it off your body. He stretches his arm towards the drawer. “Are the condoms in here too?”
You shake your head briskly, bringing his attention back to you. “I want it raw. Want you to fill me up.” 
They both moan, clearly fond of your request, kissing you feverishly. Eren nudges your breast into his mouth, latching onto your nipple. Reiner sucks the skin all along your neck, leaving his love marks, growling, “You want us to breed you, huh? Want all this cum inside these tight little holes of yours. Oh fuck.” His voice is rough and husky, gradually losing his composure. 
Eren’s remains tender, his breath soft on your bosom. “We’re going to breed you so good, sweetheart.” He shimmies down the bed, lying flat on his back, peering up at you with adoration. You straddle him, rubbing yourself on his shaft, needy for friction on your aching clit.
Reiner’s embraces you from behind, groping your chest, focusing on his roommate’s dick and your wet cunt gliding along it. He reaches between you and Eren, fisting his friend’s cock with fast strokes. “Look how hard he is for you. He’s going to fuck you so good. Make you cream all over the sheets.” Your pussy is sopping with arousal from the dirty talk alone, but watching Reiner touch Eren has you dizzy. 
“Fuck, Reiner,” Eren moans, throat bobbing as he swallows hard. “That’s so fucking hot.” He lets his roommate jerk him off while you continue to grind yourself on him. Soon, he replaces Reiner’s fist with his own, cockhead glistening with precum. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”
Reiner moves to your swollen bud, tapping it with his thick fingers. “Oh yeah, she’s fucking ready. Come on, cock sleeve. Put it in.”
Without wasting another second, you line yourself up with him. Eren slides in smoothly, his entire length in you, pussy stretched around him perfectly. You whimper from the fullness, his cock to the hilt and the plug nestled in your backside. Reiner places his hand on your posterior, urging you to lean down so that your chest-to-chest with Eren, who kisses you passionately, remaining still inside you. “Eren,” you whimper his name, drooling into his mouth. He smiles against you, delighted at how fucked out you are for him.
Reiner adjusts his stance, hovering over you by planting one foot on the bed to prop his knee up, giving him enough leverage. He focuses on the plug, tugging it out just barely only to push it back in, repeating this several times, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Finally, he removes it completely, staring wide-eyed at your gaping hole, oh-so-inviting for his fat cock. “Look at that,” he croons, circling your rim with his finger, sensitive to his touch.
You want so badly to be stuffed full by both of them. In a trembling voice, you whine, “Please, Reiner.”
Laughing, he delivers a harsh smack to your ass, skin immediately stinging from it. He dribbles more of his spit onto you, teasing the tip of his dick on the rim. “Not yet, slut.” You can’t see him, too immersed in kissing Eren right now, but you can practically hear the wicked grin on his face, watching you squirm below him as he torments you.
Eren intervenes, annoyed with his friend’s behavior. “Come on, Reiner. Give her what she wants. She deserves it.” He nuzzles his nose to yours. “She’s been a very, very good girl.”
Eventually, Reiner relents. “You’re right. She’s a good girl. And good girls deserve to get fucked in both holes.” 
You shiver at his perverse words, bracing yourself. At last, he guides himself inside you, filling you to the brim. It’s better than any fantasy you could dream of, the sensation so intense, tears begin welling in your eyes.
They start thrusting simultaneously, Eren pummeling your cunt from below, Reiner pounding your ass from behind. It’s messy and raunchy, their hands slippery all over your body from lube, slick, and sweat. The air surrounding you is laden with lust and desire. The collective moans from all three of you echo off the walls of your small bedroom, along with the squeaks of your mattress creaking under the weight of your vigorous lovemaking. 
Reiner is rendered speechless now, totally concentrated on pumping his cock in and out of your fluttering hole, the only sound from his mouth being his ragged breaths. Eren slips one hand between you, his digits pressed to your puffy clit as he fucks up into your pussy. The other fondles your tit, thumb flicking your nipple until it’s perky. He continues to praise you, constantly musing about what a good girl you are, how perfect you are for them. 
At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come. You’re in a perpetual state of ecstasy, surrounded by the two hottest men in your life who are voracious for your orgasms. The sour memory from earlier has completely faded and all you can think about is the sweet bliss you’re currently indulging in. 
Eren is the first to come, no longer able to endure it. His even thrusts turn erratic. “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming inside you sweetheart, oh fuck.”
You kiss him languidly, drinking up his moans as he floods your cunt with his load. Soon, Reiner swears loudly, announcing his own climax. “Fuck, gonna breed this slutty hole.” His cock swells, spurting his warm seed inside you.
You relax on top of Eren, who’s equally as spent as you. Reiner pulls out slowly, fixated on his own cum dripping out of you. “Fuck. Let’s see the other one, baby.” You lift off Eren, who almost seems reluctant to let you go. Both of them watch with hazy expressions as his creamy load spills out of you and onto his lap. 
The room is musty with the scent of sex, the sheets messy and stained beneath you. Despite that, you’re on cloud nine, soaring high from having the nastiest ménage á trois with your next-door neighbors.
Maybe you should try getting stood up more often. 
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theragethatisdesire · 8 months
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three's a... - jean kirschstein x afab!reader x eren jaeger - 18+!!!
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i feel like i have mentioned the possibility of giving y'all an erejean threesome way too many times to keep holding out on you, so now that i've finally nitpicked this fic to death, here we are!! literally living my dreams vicariously through this fic. i'm still not 100% happy with it, but eren and jean are sexy here and are doing half of the work of making this worth the read for me lolol. it's also written mostly through jean's pov which was interesting to play with.
pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein
wc: 6.5k
DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.
CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, threesome, established relationship (eren's ur perfect bf and u guys can't stop having sex with jean lol), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, anal (fingering and fucking), swearing, use of names (slut, brat, pretty girl, good girl, angel), mean dom eren vs soft dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie, double penetration, bicurious jean and bicurious eren (tasty, they definitely don't keep their hands to themselves), polyamory implied
buckle up, this was a blast to write and i hope it's equally as fun to read. enjoy <33
-
Jean should definitely not be here.
He should absolutely not be on his living room couch with Eren Jaeger’s girlfriend’s head in his lap, playing idly with her hair. By all traditional conventions and rules of exclusive relationships, Jean’s fairly sure that letting your girlfriend rest her head on the crotch of your roommate while he strokes her hair is on the no-no list. Not for Eren, apparently, who has your feet in his lap on the other end of the couch, playing with your toes absentmindedly and making you giggle and kick him in protest. Jean should not be here, but you and Eren have made a habit of roping him into circumstances that he would never admit to, not even at gunpoint.
If Jean is brutally, painfully honest with himself, he knows he had gotten himself into this. You were just so cute, wisping around their apartment in a big tshirt and tiny shorts in the mornings, always making sure to save him a cup of coffee. Maybe he had let his lingering glances linger just a little too long, smirked over his coffee mug at you one too many times, come up behind you to help you reach something on the top shelf and leaned a little too close, Jean couldn’t pinpoint exactly what caused Eren to notice his clear attraction towards you, but he did. Instead of getting his ass kicked like he had expected when you and Eren sat down to confront him, Jean had learned something.
Eren Jaeger has a greedy, spoiled brat of a girlfriend.
That had been the first time Jean came in you, fucking into your throat while Eren watched from across the room, palming over the bulge in his jeans. The second time, the two of you had invited Jean out for a drink, which, in hindsight, he should have seen the ulterior motive from a mile away. He had ended up cumming in your pussy, bending you over in the bar bathroom with Eren’s cock in your mouth. The third time had been in Eren’s bedroom as you rode him, Eren sitting behind you and working your hips over Jean’s cock as you wailed.
Jean had stopped his ministrations in your hair as he was reflecting on how exactly he got into this situation, trying very hard not to think too far into the filthy details to prevent propping your head up with an erection. You make a little noise of discontent, grabbing at his hands and urging them back to your hair.
“Jean, don’t stop. Feels good.”
Jean’s mouth tightens into a thin line at your choice of words, words he’s heard from you before under very different circumstances, but he obliges. So much for self control. Eren raises a smug eyebrow at him from across the couch.
“You’re giving her what she wants, right, Kirschtein?”
Jesus, you two are insatiable, still managing to grate on Jean’s razor-thin willpower with all of your clothes on. Jean wonders briefly what the appeal is for Eren, if he gets off on watching you take another man’s cock, bring another man near to tears with your warm, silken cunt. Does Eren enjoy dangling you in front of Jean until he’s forced to give in? Eren’s gaze lingers on Jean’s hands, threading through your hair, awaiting an answer.
“Yeah,” Jean says, not trusting any more words to his loose lips. They’ve already betrayed him three times now, saying yes when they should have been saying no.
“Good,” Eren responds simply, offering a small smile that, to anyone else, looks innocent. Jean knows Eren better than that. He watches as Eren’s hand travels up your bare leg, coming to rest on your upper thigh. You’re affected by it, such a simple touch, such a sensitive little body; he can feel you tense over his thighs.
Jean steels his jaw and forces his eyes back over to the movie. He’s got to stop playing these fucked up games of yours, it’s bad for him and he knows it. He hasn’t dated in months, not since you’d first pulled him into your little world, can’t bring himself to look at anyone else, can’t stand the thought of feeling anyone else’s skin under his fingers. His little crush has bloomed into full-blown lovesickness, and it would be best for him if he just stopped.
All of that ironclad willpower melts away in an instant when you let out a little moan.
Eren’s hand has snuck its way up to your shorts, nudging at the apex of your thighs. His focus is still trained on whatever reality show you’ve put on, completely ignoring the way you sigh under his touch. Jean’s cock twitches in his pants; this is his opportunity to hesitate, to say no, but he stays silent, only watching as you squirm in his lap.
“Eren,” your chastisement comes out as a breath. One of your hands comes to meet Eren’s, trying to push him away, but he simply swats your hand, shooting you a stern look.
“Behave,” Eren warns, eyes dark and dangerous. Jean’s learned that Eren’s mean to you, snappy when you put on your little attitude and fight back, but Jean doesn’t have the willpower. He holds you gently while he fucks into you hard, gives you anything you ask for.
You bite your lip and turn your head back to the TV, one hand coming up to pull Jean’s away from your head, wrapping your fingers around his. Jean’s breath hitches in his throat when you squeeze tight, back arching like you’re holding back a moan; Eren’s worked his way into your panties now, rubbing little circles over your clit.
“Look, Jaeger,” Jean makes a half-hearted attempt to remove himself, pulling his hand from yours and making all the movements to suggest he’s going to stand up, “I should–”
“What?” Eren cocks his head, as casual as if they’re discussing the weather. “Look at her, you really gonna just leave her there like that while I’m teasing her?”
Against his better judgment, Jean flicks his eyes down towards you. It’s a pitiful sight, your eyes already glossed over and staring up at him, wide and pleading, your bottom lip tucked in tight between your teeth.
“Jean,” his name comes out of your mouth, broken and already heady with arousal. That’s what snaps his resolve clean in two. You need him.
“What is it?” Jean hates the fondness in his voice, so glaringly obvious in front of your fucking boyfriend. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, though; he picks up speed, making you wriggle impatiently.
“Wanna kiss,” you whimper, reaching up towards his face.
“Don’t,” Eren stops Jean from leaning down, “she’s been bad today.”
“Is that so?” Jean rubs a thumb over your lips, frowning down at you. He can see the guilt in the way your brows knit together; oh, you have been bad, and you know it.
“Wouldn’t stop begging me for you, wanted to snuggle with Jeanie,” Eren raises his voice to mock you, slapping a hand against your clit and making you jump.
Jean’s face burns; is this it? Is this finally Eren telling him that you’re off-limits, finally deciding that Jean’s had his fill? And he’s going to rub it in his face by torturing you on Jean’s lap?
“Tell him,” Eren demands, another sharp smack landing on your cunt.
“Didn’t want to wait t-til you got home,” your face is already blotchy, eyes clouded with shame, “wanted Eren to text you and make you leave work.”
“And what did I say?”
“Be patient,” your voice wavers, Jean’s heart pounds in his ears, “and Jean would come take care of me.”
“So needy,” Eren tuts down at you, cruelly shoving a finger into your wet heat and instantly removing it, drawing a breathy whine from you, “see?”
Eren’s offering his finger to Jean, shining with slick, eyebrows lifted insistently. Jean narrows his eyes, cocks his head. What game is he playing at?
“What, don’t want a taste?” Eren’s eyes glint in the low light, taunting him. Jean leans forward hesitantly, lets the other man slide a thick finger between his lips. You always taste so good, salty and tangy; Jean feels a groan rumble deep in his chest. The corner of Eren’s mouth curls ever so slightly. Whatever game he’s playing, Jean’s losing. “Touch her, but no kisses. She has to behave if she wants that.”
You pout, bottom lip still wobbling where you’ve pushed it out, but you arch your back a little, straining your tits against your tank top. Jean knows you well enough by now, knows you chose that thin little top and didn’t wear a bra just for him, just to tempt him. You have been bad, but Jean doesn’t care, could never care when you’re looking up at him all sweet and needy. But he knows better than to disobey Eren’s rules, for your sake. Eren will edge you for the rest of the night, make himself cum, and leave you out to dry.
“Jean, please–”
“Sh,” Jean shushes you, sits you up just a little so he can pull your tank top over your head, “I’ve gotcha. Just be good for us, alright?”
You nod and smile drunkenly as he cups your breasts, kneading your nipples between his fingers. They’re one of his favorite things about you; he can’t resist leaning down to place sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your hot skin, lick around your nipples just light enough to tease. Maybe Jean can be a little mean too.
“More,” you gasp, fingers coming to clutch at his head, “more, I– oh!”
Jean’s eyes flit down your body to see Eren’s now got two long fingers shoved knuckle-deep in you, curling them fast enough to make you cry out, roll your hips up towards him. If he looks closely, he can see a wet patch forming on the crotch of your shorts; it makes his cock throb. He’s never met a woman that gets as wet as you, filthy at the slightest touch.
“You’re so messy,” Jean voices his mind without exactly meaning to, pulling himself from you so he can prop you up against his chest and let you look at the mess you’ve made. You give him a little whine of protest, tilting your chin up towards him, searching for his mouth.
“Please, I want–”
“I know what you want,” Jean thumbs at your lip, “he’s mean, isn’t he? Making you behave yourself when all you want is a little love, isn’t that right?”
“Mhm,” you manage to shoot a scathing glare at Eren that makes Jean chuckle, makes Eren smack your thigh hard enough to echo throughout the room.
“Stupid little slut,” Eren growls, moving his fingers faster, “you’re just all about Jean because he spoils you, aren't you? Someone has to make sure you behave yourself.”
Jean’s eyes widen; Eren’s clearly in a mood today, and Jean hopes it doesn’t have anything to do with his presence. Eren’s a mixed bag most times. Jean’s overheard him making soft, quiet love to you, little praises slipping out from the crack in his bedroom door, but Jean’s also watched Eren edge you to the point of tears, spit on your cunt, spank you until you bruise. Maybe Eren’s jealousy finally is getting the better of him, Jean thinks, maybe he just can’t say no to your insatiable appetite, and he is actually pissed that you had begged him for Jean.
“Jean,” you’re clutching at his shirt, moaning pathetically as Eren sucks harsh bites into your thighs.
“Did it to yourself,” Jean shakes his head at you sadly, “you know better than to make him mad.”
“Shut her up,” Eren nods his head at your mouth meaningfully, “I’ve heard enough out of her for today.”
It takes some awkward repositioning, but Jean’s able to pull his cock out, tap it against your tongue where you’ve already got your mouth hanging open, drool pooling on his lap under your cheek.You shove yourself up with some effort, and take Jean almost to the hilt on your first go, slurping lewdly around him. Jean nearly chokes.
“Oh, you are needy today,” he hisses, threading his fingers through your hair, making sure his view remains unobstructed. “That what you wanted? My cock in your throat?”
You manage a stiff nod around him in between the muffled moans you’re letting out around his cock; Eren’s added his thumb to the mix now, pulling your panties to the side so he can swipe at your clit.
“She was fuckin’ drooling for it earlier,” Eren says, meeting Jean’s eyes with a smirk, “should have seen her, all pouty and sad because her Jeanie wasn’t here. Pathetic.”
In the small part of Jean’s brain that’s still able to think rationally with his cock nudging at your gag reflex, he’s frowning in confusion. Eren is pissed at you because you were begging for Jean, and here he is spurring Jean on in fucking into your throat. It makes no fucking sense, really, but Jean’s getting his dick sucked, and not for the first time, by the woman he’s been pining after for months, so who is he to question it?
“Mmph!” You squeal, mouth too full to form a real sound, hips canting up violently towards Eren. Eren laughs, low and cruel.
“Aw, I think she’s gonna cum soon,” Eren pulls his fingers from you, a tear slips down your cheek. “Pity.”
Your cry of protest is whimpered by Jean standing up slightly, angling his hips to plunge as deep as he can. He’s only had his cock in your mouth a few times, but Jean’s intuitive. He knows how much you can take, knows exactly how far to push you before it’s too much.
“Don’t whine, baby,” Jean huffs, “just gonna make him more mad. He won’t let me help you if you don’t behave.”
“Look at you,” Eren runs his hands along your thighs, leans down to press a chaste kiss over where you’ve ruined your shorts, “being a good girl for us. S’that what it takes for you to behave? Need both of us?”
If Jean’s not mistaken, the garbled sound you make around him is one of agreement. The thought goes straight between his legs, brings him far closer to the edge than he’d like to be at this point. He pulls your mouth off of him, making you pout.
“But–”
“I know, I know, you want it,” Jean rubs an affectionate thumb over your cheek, “but you want me to fuck you, too, right?”
“Please,” you breathe, reaching down to wiggle your shorts off. Eren’s face lights up.
“Wanna show him your little surprise, baby?” Eren’s tugging at your shorts now, ripping them off and tossing them to the sides. He puts his hands under your arms, yanking you out of Jean’s lap and throwing your chest over his shoulders. When Eren’s hands come to your cheeks, spreading them so Jean can see, Jean’s heart nearly stops. There’s a little pink rhinestone glittering where your asshole should be– a plug, keeping you open and ready. Eren meets Jean’s eyes, daring. “She picked it out just for us. Want us both, don’t you? Nasty little thing.”
Eren punctuates his statement with a grin and a sharp slap to your ass that makes you jump, nod desperately from behind him. Jean reaches a cautious hand over, puts two fingers around the toy and pulls lightly, just enough to watch it move in you. You whine; he can see your empty cunt flutter.
“Can she take it? Both of us?”
“Oh yeah,” Eren brushes off Jean’s concern, “been using all her little toys for weeks, making me practice with her. She can take it.”
With that, Jean’s standing, padding into his room and knowing Eren’s following with you still tossed over his shoulder. His head spins; you, his precious little toy, have been stretching yourself out, getting yourself ready to have two cocks in you? The thought nearly makes Jean moan to himself, imagining how tight you’ll be all stuffed full.
Eren’s thrown you on the bed none too gently, stripping as you look up at him, hearts in your eyes. He stops midway through pulling his clothes off to grab your chin, offer your pleading gaze to Jean.
“Why don’t you ask him, hm?” Eren coos, looking between you and Jean with a filthy grin on his face. “Ask him again, see if you’ve been good.”
“Will you kiss me, Jean? Please?” Your voice has that thin, fucked out tone to it that drives Jean crazy, makes him want to make you cry.
“Yeah princess, I’ll kiss you.” He leans down, takes your soft mouth in his, Eren never releasing his hold on your chin. Jean can taste himself on your tongue, smiling appreciatively at the salty tang. Eren rips you away far too soon, pressing his mouth down on you far rougher than Jean had. They balance each other well, Jean thinks, the gentle caresses and the sharp slaps that make you come undone under them in a way neither of them can manage alone.
“On your knees, brat,” Eren sneers, the shred of tenderness that he’d grabbed your face with long-gone, “convince us to fuck you stupid.”
You nod obediently, sliding off the bed and onto your knees, reaching for Jean. He steps forward, letting you hold his cock in your little hand, rub up and down while you take Eren in your mouth. Even your hands are enough to drive him crazy, so soft and supple around him; Jean’s head falls back.
“Fuck,” Eren sucks a sharp breath in between his teeth, “that’s it, baby, take it.”
Something possesses Jean, what it is he can’t be sure, but he reaches a hand down to the back of your head, pushing you further down Eren’s length. He half-expects Eren to chastise him for it, but Eren groans, long and loud, a sound that simmers in Jean’s stomach.
Jean watches the contractions of Eren’s abs, trails his eyes up to where the other man’s strong chest is heaving, a strange, hot sensation trickling through his center. It’s too late to look away once he realizes he’s been caught, but instead of finding amusement when he meets Eren’s eyes, Jean finds something else entirely.
Eren’s looking at Jean the way he looks at you, all lusty and uninhibited. Jean nearly scowls at him, everything he’s internalized over the years rearing its head in his chest, but Eren stops him with a hand wrapped around the back of Jean’s neck. In the blink of an eye, there’s a set of lips on his, a sharp tongue licking into his mouth.
Jean lets out a wanton, strung out moan that Eren swallows, echoes with one of his own. Jean notices that your head has stilled under his hand, and he shoves you back onto Eren’s cock mindlessly, relishing in the way Eren’s mouth stutters against his own when you retch around him. He trails his hand, tentative and exploratory, up to Eren’s hair, grabs the bun at the back of his head and pulls. Jean’s surprised at the heat beneath his palm; he’s always known Eren runs hot, especially after the last few times he’s fucked you. It’s only natural to brush arms, brush legs during the act, but Eren’s skin is scalding, damp with sweat under his touch.
It’s not Jean’s first kiss with a man, not by any means, but he’d never guessed that Eren, headstrong, manly, unreadable Eren, had this in him. Had it been hiding there for all of these years? Was it a spur of the moment thing, that Eren would look back on and cringe at later?
Doubt getting the better of him, Jean breaks first, pulls away with a quiet smacking sound. Eren’s eyes are just as wide as his feel, searching Jean’s face for any sign of regret, of satisfaction, of something. A loud whine from below distracts them both, and whatever odd moment was forming is broken as they look down at you.
Your chin is covered in drool from where you’ve been choking on Eren, gagging around him, and your eyes are glossy and needy. Jean’s cock gets impossibly harder.
“What?” Eren taunts. “You jealous that I kissed your Jeanie?”
“Yeah,” you pout, brows knitting, but Jean can see the arousal written into your features. You liked it.
“Get up,” Jean says to you, voice hard and unforgiving.
You follow his instruction, standing on shaking legs. Jean can see the snark in your eyes before it comes out of your lips. “What, finally going to pay attention to me now?”
As soon as the words have left your mouth, Eren’s hand is around your jaw, wrenching it open for him to spit into your mouth. “Don’t fucking talk back, not if you want to cum.”
“You were doing so good,” Jean rubs a hand over your hip, guiding you to lay on top of him on the bed, “what, are you that desperate for us that you can’t mind your manners?”
“I just–”
“Want both of your slutty little holes filled?” Eren scoffs, kneeling on the bed behind where you’re straddling Jean’s hips. “Yeah, we know.”
You frown and lean down to Jean, searching for consolation, but he shoves you to sit back up, admiring the way your chest bounces with the movement.
“Can’t be nice to you all the time,” Jean’s voice is low, dangerous, “not when you act like a brat.”
He can see the heartbreak on your face, revels in it, but it’s short lived. Your eyes fly open as Eren works the plug out of you, tossing it to the side and wrapping an arm around you to take your neck in his hand. Eren looks down at Jean, exchanges a conspiratorial smirk with him.
“Why don’t you ask Jean if you can sit on it while I work you open, hm?”
Your eyes glisten pleadingly at Jean, but something’s come over him. He realizes he likes drawing those begging moans out of you, likes holding you over the edge between the tips of his fingers. Jean shrugs.
“Show me how bad you want it.”
While Eren reaches over to scrounge around for the lube in Jean’s bedside table, you start to work your hips over Jean’s cock, slicking it up with how wet you already are. Jean grabs you by the back of the neck, pulls you to him to drink down the little whimpers and moans that escape your lips.
“Jean, please,” you sigh into his mouth, “I need you.”
Jean’s resolve wavers, but he stands firm. “Beg.”
“I–” hot tears of shame are welling in your eyes now, Jean wants to lick them from your cheeks– “please, I need it, need your cock in me, please, Jean.”
“What do you think, Eren?” As Jean asks the question, it strikes him just how often he refers to the other man simply as “Jaeger”, not by his first name. In his mind, ‘Jaeger’ is his friend of many years, and ‘Eren’ is the man that he had just inexplicably, passionately kissed. “Think she’s earned it?”
“Let’s see how she takes my fingers,” Eren replies, slicking his fingers up with lube and forcing two into your already-stretched hole with ease, making you squeak in surprise, “oh fuck, she’s already so stretched out for us. Yeah, give her what she wants, let her warm up to it.”
“Thank you, t-thank you,” you stammer, out of your mind with want as Jean slides the head of his cock into you with a long groan.
“Shit,” Jean growls, holding onto you tight to prevent your hips from pushing down on him too fast, filling you up too quickly with Eren’s fingers hard at work in your other hole. Maybe he is the nice one, after all. “So fucking tight for me, aren’t you?”
“Mhm, for you,” you hum, lip tucked in your teeth.
“Think she likes you more than me,” Eren smirks from over your shoulder, working a third finger into you and making your jaw drop. For his part, Jean bottoms out, hissing as you pulse around him. He can feel Eren’s fingers scissoring through your walls, eyes rolling back into his head at the sensation.
“You okay? Is it too much?” Jean notices one of those tears that had sparkled in your eyes earlier threatening to fall, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him. You look beautiful, all stretched around him and fucked out, mind blank.
“It’s a lot,” you nod, sniffle, “but I’m okay, I can take him. Want to, want– need you both.”
Eren’s eyes darken, and Jean can feel him remove his fingers, feel the accommodating stretch of your walls able to breathe again. Jean takes your hips in his hands, rolling you along his cock to grant both of you some of the friction you desperately need. You mewl, leaning over to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Eren’s lining up behind you, running a soothing hand over your back.
“Deep breaths, baby,” Jean instructs you, holding you to his chest. You sniffle and nod into his shoulder, muscles tense and twitching.
“Tell me if it’s too much, alright angel?” Eren leans over to press a surprisingly tender kiss between your shoulder blades and gives Jean a signaling nod, which Jean returns.
Jean can feel it the moment Eren pushes in, feel your body stretching itself to accommodate both of them. You squeal into the skin of Jean’s shoulder that you’ve taken between your teeth, and it hurts, but he lets you, rubbing circles on your lower back.
“Doing so good for us, baby,” Jean hums, pressing his lips to your ear, “too much?”
You shake your head, whimpering as Eren pushes in further.
“God, she’s– shit, it’s so fucking tight,” Eren growls, jaw clenched and a little vein protruding in his neck from the effort of holding himself back, reining in the part of himself that just wants to snap his hips forwards into you.
“Yeah, she is,” Jean chokes out, feeling suffocated by the way you’re pulsing around him, by the pressure of Eren’s cock shoving at him. He’s not sure where he ends and where the both of you begin, if there’s even any separation between his skin and Eren’s and yours anymore.
“Feel so– full,” you hiccup, nails digging into Jean’s shoulders. Your watery voice makes Eren pause, rub a hand over your back.
“You doing okay, baby? How you feeling?”
“Feels….” you take in a deep, heaving breath, “good. Feels so good.”
Eren grins, something feral. “That’s our girl. So good for us, yeah?”
“You like being full, hm?” Jean can feel a smile mirroring Eren’s on his face.
He doesn’t miss Eren’s choice of words. Our girl. And you are their girl, you love being full of them. Of course you do. You’re their insatiable little plaything, so good at taking them in each of your holes. You love it, you love them.
“It’s– fuck, I’m in,” Eren’s staring at where you’re all connected. Jean wishes he could see, but the tightness of you around him is enough, the way he can feel Eren through your thin walls, pressing against his cock. Eren pumps his hips experimentally, and all three of you moan in sync.
“Pl-please move, Jean, fuck- no, Eren, just–” you’re babbling nonsensically, music to their ears.
“We’ve got you,” Jean hushes you, fucking his hips up into you and cutting you off, “just sit tight and be our good little girl, alright?”
“Oh g-god.” Your words wrench from you in a sob, jolting with the thrust of Jean’s hips up into yours. It takes some work, but soon enough, they’re pumping in and out of you at the perfect pace, synced up so you’re never empty, not for long. You’re wailing, voice scratchy from all the crying you’ve already done that night, clutching onto Jean like he’s your last lifeline.
“Feels so fucking good,” Eren grits out, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips, “so good for us.”
“Not gonna last long, not like this,” Jean agrees, sitting you up so he can see you, see your wet cheeks and your open mouth, “so pretty like this, aren’t you? All stuffed full?”
“She loves it,” Eren growls over your pathetic, shaky moan of agreement, landing a smack on your ass, “fucking loves us, don’t you baby? Tell us, tell us how much you love it.”
“I-I love it,” you manage, voice wrecked, “love you— fuck- love you both so much.”
Jean’s eyes widen, roll back in his head a little. You’re so perfect, obedient and willing to take both of them, let them abuse your holes. The thought makes him bite down on the inside of his cheek, not willing to be the first to break and ruin this perfect moment.
“Jean, I– shit, I’m gonna cum soon,” Eren pants, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open when he meets Jean’s eyes. “Make her cum.”
Jean nods determinedly, somehow finds the presence of mind to slide a hand in between your slick bodies, swiping at your clit insistently. Your body blooms for him, back arching as you throw your head back against Eren’s shoulder. He feels you clench violently around him, knows you’ve already been on the edge since they started with you, knows you won’t take much goading to break for them.
“That good?” Jean forced out through his clenched jaw, trying to keep pace with Eren amidst your vice-like grip on him.
“Yes, so fucking– oh my god, J-Jean, I’m– Eren,” you’re babbling, close to the point of hysteria, eyes blank and teary. Jean’s free hand wraps around your hip, grabbing hard at the flesh there. He’s so gone he barely catches it, just barely, but he notices Eren’s hand. Eren lays his palm over Jean’s, deliberate and steady, grabbing onto the other man’s hand and squeezing down. Jean meets Eren’s eyes, fucked out and hooded.
“Come on,” Jean rubs faster, harder, his eyes flitting back and forth between yours and Eren’s, “show us what a good fucking girl you are for us.”
Whatever was tethering you to your sanity falls away, and you cum harder than Jean’s ever seen, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as your muscles lock up, legs trembling on either side of Jean’s hips. He grips your hip harder, trying to maintain a pace so you can ride your orgasm out on top of them. Eren follows quickly behind you, biting into your shoulder with a loud, long groan. When Jean feels Eren’s cum leaking out of you, feels the mess they’ve made between your legs, he falls over the edge too, slamming your hips down into his and grinding up into you with a moan.
The three of you collapse into a heap of limbs and sweat and stickiness, chests heaving and muscles twitching. Jean can feel the burn of Eren’s skin and the slick, plush give of yours, enveloping him from every angle, and for the first time in months, he lets his eyes flutter shut, letting himself enjoy the simple pleasure of touch.
But nothing is forever, and after a few minutes, he feels you begin to stir between them, mumbling about needing to go to the bathroom. Eren reluctantly rolls off the bed to help you to the bathroom to clean up, leading you out on shaking legs. Alone again, Jean throws his hands over his face and sighs, deep and hefty.
He shouldn’t be here, he should have never let you both goad him into this.
It occurs to Jean that he needs some air; the apartment feels suffocatingly small knowing that both of you are only a few layers of plaster and a door away. He pushes through regret and self-doubt, pulling his sweatpants back on and scrounging around in his laundry basket of unfolded, clean clothes to find a shirt.
“What are you doing?” Eren’s suddenly in the doorway, scowling at him.
“Going out.”
“You worked this morning. What, do you have plans or something?” There’s a clear note of annoyance in Eren’s voice, but Jean’s too exhausted and shaky to look into it.
“Jean?” You, Eren’s shadow as always, peer around his shoulders, a cute little furrow of confusion between your brows. “Where are you going?”
Jean nearly growls in frustration, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Out. I’m going out.”
He hates the way you flinch, grab onto Eren’s hand for stability in the wake of his snapping at you. Eren speaks next, but Jean doesn’t recognize his tone; it’s firm, but somehow, it’s lacking Eren’s perpetually angry intonation.
“Sit.” Eren’s got one finger pointed to the bed, ordering him as if this isn’t Jean’s own room. He drags you over behind him, plopping on the bed as if you all do this every day. Jean glares at Eren, softens his eyes at the way you’re looking up at him invitingly.
“We just want to talk a little,” you pat the comforter, smiling softly. That breaks him, and against Jean’s better judgment, he’s sitting where you’ve indicated, t-shirt still fisted in his hands.
“About?”
“We don’t want you to think– well, this…” Eren gestures his hands between the three of you, frowning deeper, and eventually sighing, “I don’t know how to say it.”
You pick up for Eren, smiling at him. “We don’t want you to feel like you’re out of place here, that’s all.”
Jean cocks an eyebrow. “In my own bedroom?”
“No, asshole,” Eren rolls his eyes, “with…with us.”
“What does that mean?” Jean’s heart nearly stops. A small, soft hand over his makes his breath catch in his throat.
“We’re not, like, experienced with this, so maybe we’re doing this whole thing wrong,” you look to Eren anxiously, who nods at you reassuringly, “but…we have room for you. If you’re open.”
“Like…” Jean barely trusts his voice to carry above a breath, “in what sense?”
“It’s not just sex,” Eren mumbles, flushing pink, “to us, at least.”
“We like you,” you clarify, smiling again, “and however you want us, if you want us, at least, you can have us.”
Jean blinks stupidly, looks to Eren to see if his face betrays anything, anything that could explain the conversation taking place, if it’s a joke, if he’s unsure. To his surprise, Eren looks up at him, green eyes earnest and burning into his, and takes the t-shirt out of Jean’s hands, giving one of Jean’s hands to you and taking the other for himself.
“It works,” Eren says, finding some conviction, “whatever you want to call it, this works.”
“For both of you?” Jean can hardly believe his ears, can hardly fathom the feeling of your soft, delicate little fingers and Eren’s calloused palms wrapped around his hands.
“For both of us. But…does it? For you?” Your voice wavers, your nerves betraying you.
“I mean, I don’t know what it is. I don’t understand it,” Jean admits, positive that his eyes are comically wide in the face of this new information.
“Me neither,” Eren shrugs, “but we don’t have to be so serious about it–”
“Not for now at least,” you smile at Eren encouragingly, nodding and urging him to press on.
“Not for now,” Eren agrees, squeezing Jean’s fingers ever so slightly, the smallest, most tentative reassurance, “we can figure it out later.”
“If you want it,” you bite your lip, looking up at Jean through thick lashes, “want us. We won’t be upset if you say no. No pressure.”
Jean thinks for a moment, thinks about everything you’re offering him. You, who he’s pined after for months, so beautiful and sweet to him. He thinks about sharing coffee with you in the mornings, holding you tight to his body and drifting off to sleep, letting you play with his hair. He doesn’t know if he loves you, but whatever he feels is pretty damn close to it, close enough to drive him crazy and keep him up at night.
And Eren. He’s been friends with Eren for near a decade now, known him for as long as he can remember. What this agreement means in terms of his relationship with Eren, Jean hardly dares to press, knowing how Eren is: flighty, argumentative, brash. None of that is written into Eren’s features now, though; Eren’s watching him intently, earnestly, chest stilled as if he’s holding his breath, waiting for Jean’s answer.
Something old and something new mixed together into something entirely unfamiliar.
“We don’t have to put a label on it now, or even go through the semantics,” Eren’s voice is spent, nearly breathless.
“We’ll give you some space if you need–”
“No,” Jean cuts you off, looking between you both, “no, it’s– it’s just a surprise, that’s all.”
Eren snorts. “How many times do we need to fuck you before you get the hint?”
“Eren!” You slap his arm, looking between him and Jean meaningfully. “Not really the time for jokes, is it?”
“I mean, fucking in the bathroom of Scout’s isn’t exactly wining and dining me,” Jean rolls his eyes. Eren laughs at that, unintentionally tightening his grip around Jean’s fingers and making Jean’s heart thud a little in his chest.
“You two are beyond annoying,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Eren and Jean exchange a wicked smirk.
“Regretting this already?” Eren teases you, digging his fingers into your side and making you giggle.
“Get over here,” Jean pulls you onto his lap, feeling emboldened to press a quick succession of kisses to your jawline, to your cheek. God, maybe he does love you, the weight of you in his arms feeling almost perfect. Eren leans over and tackles you both, tickling you wherever he can reach, Jean pinning you to his chest despite your protests and thrashing.
That’s what’s missing, Jean realizes. It’s not about you and Jean, or you and Eren, or he and Eren. He understands Eren’s bluntness earlier: the three of you just work, regardless of the weirdness of it all or the awkward conversations that lay ahead. It works, and for now, that’s enough.
Eren relents in his torture, scooting up the bed and dragging you with him, pulling Jean’s covers over you both like he’d done it a hundred times. Jean’s last little inkling of self-doubt perseveres, and he hesitates, until Eren tosses the covers on your other side back, patting the sheets meaningfully. Jean swallows his pride, swallows his insecurity, and pulls you into his side, very mindful of Eren’s arm tossed over both of your shoulders, of Eren’s fingers weaving absentmindedly through the hair at the nape of his neck.
And in the morning, when Eren mimics Jean’s loud snoring and you’re playfully throwing little crumbs of toast at them over the counter, the little voice in Jean’s head that had warned him to keep his distance will be completely silenced for the first time in months.
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hellavile · 1 year
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LUV THIS SHIT | eren yeager.
‍ ‍ ☆. warnings — 3.1k. fem!reader, eren’s pent up from working out, asmr sexting, submissive reader, impact play [ face smack, spanking ] public arousal, indecent behavior, mating press, f!oral, fingering, profanity, established relationship, lots of making out, unprotected sex, eren’s aggressive, floor sex, riding, creampie, artist!reader, pet names, reader has black features, minors aren't allowed! 
‍ merry christmas! ♡
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eren starts his day the same every morning. the alarm goes off at six o'clock which is never your favorite thing to hear considering you're not an early bird. usually groaning in your state of sleep and tugging the blankets away from him after he kisses you on your forehead and steps out of bed. you always snuggle on his side before the warmth he created grows cold. proceeds to take a steaming hot shower, tilting his neck back to let the heavy beats of water dampen his long hair. lathers his body with african black soap you picked up from a shop while SONDER plays from his speaker, careful not to blast it too loud to wake you up. it's your off day so he's respecting your wishes to hibernate all day.
he honestly hates leaving you alone in bed. sue him but being your little spoon is the best thing he's ever known. he's never slept so good in his life until he met you. never knew it felt so comfortable being in another persons arms. eren’s next step is to dress for the gym, the only reason he's up this early three times out of the week. a dark gray towel is wrapped low around his slim waist, tatted chest and arms running with water droplets as he wipes the foggy mirror clear to see his reflection. washing his face with a kale, spinach, and green tea cleanser along with brushing his teeth, cleaning his tongue with a scraper and gargling mouthwash. he forgets to do this backwards sometimes considering he has to eat first. the taste lingers and makes his food nasty.
afterwards, he’s moisturizing his face with cerave healing ointment and his pouty cotton candy lips with one of your babylips sticks. lathering his body in vaseline coca butter lotion and slipping on a olive green colored sweatpants with a black cropped metallica muscle tank, wrapping a matching black bandanna over the top of his towel-dried chestnut hair. he spritz this cologne you picked up at the mall when thinking of him called art deco amberwood by clive christian. makes you fall to your knees to suck him off every time now that he thinks about it.
by then it's near seven and he's down in the kitchen with his black airpod max’s over his ears listening to jazz while he blends his smoothie with spinach, kale, strawberries, blueberries, and pineapples. he gulps that down after filling a mason jar completely. and for further consumption, he makes avocado toast topped with chia seeds, himalayan salt and pepper and two strips of bacon each.
before he leaves he makes sure to run back up the stairs to double check on you to see if you needed anything before he left such as picking up a coffee from dunkin or anything from the art supply store. he peaks his head through the door to see you sprawled out, mouth open and snoring peacefully, cuddling his pillow. he smiles to himself, mumbling ‘my pretty girl’ before quietly tiptoeing close to the king-sized bed with satin sheets to give you a kiss or two before heading out, moving your bonnet aside to whisper that he loves you.
he's got his gym bag and his car keys when he leaves, taking the elevator down the parking lot of the loft you two live in, three years now. he finds his car parked directly next to yours. cute. the pretty wolf gray kia k5 besides his onyx lexus rc 300. there's a gym located in the building but he prefers the one your brother owns a few minutes out of the area.
it's around ten o'clock when you fully wake up, missing his presence already and pouting about it before heading to the shower yourself. sitting in a towel for a full hour stuck on tiktok and getting a craving for samyang carbonara noodles and rice cakes. it's really the only thing that made you leave the house today, throwing on a pair of eren’s gray nike shorts you had to roll up to properly sit on your hips, and a black tank, jewelry remaining on your skin everyday from layered necklaces to multiple bracelets. 
you're sitting in the starbucks drive thru which has an incredibly long line but you're not minding the wait, craving a pink drink suddenly. the sun was hitting nicely into your car so you decide to take photos to pass a little time, thumb slipping and accidentally opening the voice memos app with only four recordings, one of them fairly new. created about two weeks ago and you vaguely remember that night. it's about an hour and fifteen minutes long
'luv this shit <3’ is what it's titled. not remembering exactly how it went. you and eren only used this app whenever you're having sex, meaning those four audios were strictly nsfw. you bite your lip in curiosity, deciding to press play to hear it, flinching when you hear how loud you were screaming on top of forgetting that your phone is connected to your cars bluetooth. you swallow in panic, turning it off and sitting back in silence, twiddling your fingers, becoming impatient with the line now because you wanted to hear it. it had to be something the two of you made when you were intoxicated. or else you would've remembered it.
you've retrieved your pink drink, and now it was time to park, too impatient to wait and hear this. sipping your drink, you get comfortable, holding your phones speaker to your ear and pressing play yet again. there's music playing in the background, luv this shit by august alsina in specific, now you knew where the title came from. probably eren’s doing. a rush of heat swarms your cheeks and gut as you hear your boyfriend’s voice, deep and stern as he talks to you while skin connects and your moans overshadow the music. the sound of you kissing wetly makes you shift in your seat, feeling his soft lips on yours at the moment. you loved kissing him.
it lasts for about two minutes before eren’s voice becomes louder than yours when he's fucking you hard, your voice muffled by your hand you assume, doing that a lot since you think you're too loud. “let me fuckin’ hear it,” there's his voice again, unconsciously whimpering along with yourself in the audio. eren’s whining with you, the two of you gasping and listening to how wet you were. a loud smack erupts and you're crying his name, the memory slowly coming back. he smacked your face. the jewelry on his wrist prominent when he does it again, this time it's the outside of your thigh.
“rennnnnn! fuh-uuck.”
“i hear you, baby. come on, come on, come on, cum, cum, cum.” with every thrust he gets louder, hissing as your pussy constricts around his dick. “that's it, pretty. yeah.”
you nearly spill your drink over your lap, the cup slowly slipping from your grip after you zoned out, catching it quick and collecting yourself, setting it in the cup holder. you need to leave. actually, you need to send this to him. he has to be done at the gym by now. then again, you're never sure with him. the man could work out all day if he wanted.
being risky, you grin, pulling up his contact and sending him the audio, following with a text that said . . .
NEW MESSAGE
kuromi princess hello kitty baby star ♡
don't we sound pretty? <3
follicles of eren's hair stick to his sweaty forehead, putting it up before he started his workout, going on for about three hours now. RICH FLEX blasts in his headphones. the neckline of his top is doused with sweat, removing the boxing gloves off his hands to sit down and gulp a full bottle of water. checking his phone, he sees your message. lifting his brow at the audio you had sent, reading your response, and clicking it without hesitating. immediately when he hears your desperate pleading and skin smacking, his pupils dilate, clenching his jaw and checking his surroundings. not many people were in this area of the gym.
“fuck me, baby. fuck me, baby. fuck me, babyyy,” eren listens with wide eyes as he hears your pretty moans, skipping through the audio to hear bits and pieces.
“yeah, speak to me like that.”
eren grows shamelessly aroused from what he's hearing, swallowing hard and shifting his dick back in place, breathing heavier. he's mad at you. mad because you know he's in public and he gets easily turned on by anything regarding you. whether it be your scent, your smile, your eyes, or your fucking voice. when you talk, or scream his name. it's all the same. he's triggered by it all. and you know this, so why test him? not to mention the two of you haven't been sexually active because you've been caught up with work and painting and he's been working doubles. the only time you spend together is brief mornings in bed or one day weekends, usually sleeping all day or being lazy.
all he can think of this moment is fucking you rough and raw. gathering his belongings without another thought and sending you a brief text.
pretty boy ren <3
yea, okay.
it's so stressful walking with a hard dick, and eren really can't wait until he gets home to fuck you up. such a dirty girl needing to be put in place. he forgets his headphones have noise cancellation, so when he's speeding home like a dummy, music continues to thrum in his ears, acting like a complete madman. exactly five minutes before he enters the apartment, you're sitting in your usual corner of the loft where you've made your art station. sitting on the ground while incense flows and sza’s new album plays soundly. a canvas laying on the ground where you sat on a cushion, finger painting a collage of the weeknd’s discography since it's the 11th anniversary for echoes of silence. unaware of the message you received.
that is until you hear the familiar sound of keys jangling and in a matter of seconds, the front door flies open, there standing a big, tall, visibly irritated man. your eyes go wide from seeing him, eren kicking off his shoes, heavy feet stomping towards you and you sit up with curiosity, trying your hardest to hide your devious smile. you knew it'd have that effect on him. eren’s hot hand grabs your jaw fervently, clenching his before yanking your face close to his to connect your lips in a heated kiss. smacking his lips roughly over yours, moaning into his mouth, his eyes focused on your face as you close your eyes too comfortably for his liking. as if you're not in trouble for the shit you pulled.
your hands kept to yourself on either side of his wide shoulders, eren dragging you down to lay on your back onto the cushion you previously sat on, slipping off the black panties covering your neglected pussy, weeping, and waiting for him to get home to do exactly this. staring up at him with glee in your eyes, it's the opposite in his. he can't hear a thing you say because of his headphones, not bothering to toss them off because the only thing on his mind is sliding his dick inside of you and getting his nut off.
raising your knees without his help, he's pushing them further up to your chest, folding you still before arching his neck to release globs of spit onto your cunt three times max, each one emitting a ‘puh’ sound. you clench from his dirty act. his big body hovers over yours, heavy dick practically drenched in precum resting on your mound before eren angles his hips to slip into you. he doesn't give you time to brace yourself, gasping as he groans and thrusts his hips fast, your skin clapping and body jerking under him. beautiful green irises switching darker as he stares into your soul, your moans faintly being heard.
“think you fuckin slick, baby?” eren rasps, your mouth agape, his grip on your thighs harsh. “did that shit on purpose just so i can fuck that pretty pussy stupid on my cock, right?”
“y-yess,” he watches you nod drunkenly, your hands digging on your sides into the rug beneath you. every pound into your slick pussy vibrates into your throat, following his rhythm. happy tears brim your eyes.
“s’okay. ‘cause i got something for you.”
his pace hastens, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he drills deep, jackhammering almost, like a needy, inexperienced boy. your cunts squelching loud, hand pressing at his abdomen in attempt to slow him down but he only fucks you harder, air knocking from your lungs. it's so fucking hot the way he's handling you right now, like he's been so deprived of you for so long he couldn't stand it. couldn't even take his clothes fully off, keeping every piece on because he needed you that badly.
“ooh, i'm fucking cumming. ssss, fuck,” eren moans. you squeal as eren takes both your arms and crosses them over your tummy, holding them there while he puts his weight on you and grunts in your face. sweat dampening his bandanna, breath mixing with yours as he cums inside you. coating your walls with thick spurts of white. your knees buckle from the feeling, his lower halve twitching from the rush.
eren licks his lips, stilling his movements to take a breather, knocking back one of the ears to his airpods to hear how desperate you sound, slowly pulling his dick out, still hard.
“eren, i didn't cum,” you whine, squirming with an attitude.
“i think i knew that.”
you put your middle finger up to him for his smart ass tone, eren arching a brow and scooping you up without another word. smiling, you cling to him as he moves towards the couch, deciding to stay seated on the floor, lifting you so you sit on his lap. his cock resting on his stomach where you're able to see toned abs and a dark, neatly trimmed happy trail to match your cute brazilian strip all cause of that slutty, grunge crop top he has on. his back rests against the furniture. you take the initiative to remove these stupid headphones so you could put your hands and mouth around his neck.
“i don’t think you understand how much i thought about fuckin’ you today. you really fuckin’ don’t.” eren lands a heavy hand on your ass causing you to jump and scoot forward from leaning back on his knees. “could barely fucking focus. all because you sent me that shit.”
“and because you miss me,” you whisper, delicately skimming your lips over his, arching into him as he spreads your ass cheeks apart after smoothing over them. spanking you hard on either side until you gasp into his mouth and he could kiss you again.
“sink on it real slow,” eren taps your clit with the tip to say he wants it done now. sucking on your lip, you raise yourself till he's kissing the entrance and gently easing down, indenting crescent moons into his broad shoulders momentarily. dragging your hands to your waist, you rub over your body, hissing and throwing your head back, feeling a storm of euphoria fuel you. eren hums in fascination as you lose yourself in the bond.
“g’na say sorry with your pussy, baby?” eren taunts in a baby-like tone.
“mhmm,” what eren wants, eren gets. and if he wanted you to ride his dick you were going to. getting up on the tips of your toes and rode only on the tip first, eren choking on his spit with brows furrowed and praising you. soon, inching lower to bounce yourself up and down to his liking, being sure to clench your walls a little tighter just to hear him whine. when eren gets really feral he gets really loud. unable to control what his vocal cords let out. he used to think it was embarrassing, but the two of you have shared enough time together to dismiss judgment. he sounds so pretty when he's getting fucked good.
“shit, you keep fuckin’ me like that m’ not gonna last,” ignoring him, you continue to clap your ass down, skin interaction picking back up, eren’s hands on your hips just for leverage. he never needs to guide you. a few squeezes occasionally since he's so sensitive. painfully aroused it makes no sense.
“i can't last long,” you warn, pawing at his chest as you raise your ass and fuck him faster, eren moaning and helping you out by pounding up into you. you fall forward into his arms, yanking you down each time you'd rise back up. smacking your ass just to hear your voice pick up. “eren, fuck baby!”
“unh huh, keep goin’,” eren’s face scrunches up, whining in your ear while keeping one of his tatted arms wrapped around your backside. your thighs begin to burn but you know stopping isn't an option when he sounds that good in your ear. eren gets aggressive and hits into you harder, same time ass you drop down with more force, tugging at his hair and he whimpers your name.  “keep that shit up, baby. yeahh.”
it feels so good you start crying, missing this so much. holding onto him for dear life as he somehow moves quicker, slouching in his spot so his neck settles back onto the couch, slipping his right hand under your right thigh and raising his hips to fuck up into you, lifting you like you're one of his weights at the gym. you watch as he mumbles ‘fuck’ with his eyes scrolled back and mouth wide open, jawline sharp, and adam’s apple in his throat prominent. he looked so fucking good right now you just had to kiss his neck. eren hitting that spot so good you can't control yourself from screaming, mouthing at his neck and leaving hickeys. he smells good, hints of musk and that damn cologne you love, feels good, looks even better. then wonders why you act the way you did. he’s made a monster.
“you fuck me so good, ‘ren. love you so much, missed you so much,” at this point you're babbling, saying anything that comes from your brain mindlessly. it's enough to make eren bellow streams of curses before hiking your ass off and nutting over your back, eren releasing a high-pitched gasp as he stares up at the ceiling in a daze. vision blurry. 
before you complain, eren’s lifting you higher and scoots further down to sit you on his face, hot mouth munching on your soaked cunt with puffy lips. your eyes cross and you scream into the air, gripping the couch as he slides two fingers, middle and pointer, deep into your hole, thrusting while his fat tongue laps at your clit, silver cuban link on his wrist cold on your stomach. he's swallowing your arousal like he's drinking a glass of water, moaning into your pussy and spanking your ass with his unoccupied hand.
“oh my . . .  god,” you're breathless as you cum, legs twitching and squealing from the intensity of your orgasm, losing balance and falling forward. eren smirks and smacks your ass one last time before moving from below you, sitting on his knees behind you and pushing your back down to fix your arch, turning your head to face him, fucked out face staring at him like he was crazy for putting his dick back inside you. you already feel so sore. 
eren arches his brow. “oh, you thought i was done?” 
˖ ࣪ ⌨ ˚ ﹢tags :: @sailewhoremoon @dejwrites @getosbunny @massivelynervousprincess @gatoru @satotokii @sintiva @shamelesshoefairy​ @minniecums​ @kiitysstuff​ @itsn0ct​ @7inaa​ @444yeager​ ​
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angelinpiink · 10 months
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ex boyfriend! eren headcannons ࿐ྂ。
❥ note: as a disclaimer, these headcanons are a bit toxic/dark, if that is something you find triggering i recommend you skip this one, you can find other works of eren that don't have this particular theme here just want to make it clear that i do not condone this sort of behavior and this doesn't represent my idea of what a healthy relationship should look like thank you and enjoy
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Firstly, eren doesn't even consider you guys to be actually broken up, he’s convinced. you’re just screwing with him or playing hard to get. Even once he realizes you're not, the breakup is still completely one sided. He loves you far too much to even fathom that the relationship is over. He’s already planned your entire future together–he's been doing so since he first met you, from the house you'll live in together to the garter you'll be wearing on your wedding day.  In short, he’s delusional when it comes to you, head over heels or do he likes to call it and for this reason he still goes around telling everyone you're his. 
Everyone around him, including his friends is obviously taken aback by this and so they sort of just play along, listening to him rant   about you the moment he’s gotten enough alcohol in his system. This happens  at every get together they have had since the breakup.  “she’s just confused and going through a tough time right now. She doesn't know that she wants me,” he’ll say anytime he hears about you having moved on with anyone else.  If anyone even has the courage to challenge his statements he has the habit of angrily shutting them down. “Shut the hell up, you don't know anything about our relationship.” 
He spends the first few days blowing up your phone with texts about how much he loves you and that though your relationship has had its ups and downs – him being the one who’s mostly responsible for the downs, you guys will get through it as you always had if you just keep trying. When he received no response ,he changed his approach, no longer attempting to convince you to stay but now begging you to come back  home. “Come back to me please..” he’ll bombard your voicemail inbox with pleas and sob stories about how he hasn't slept because he misses holding you each night. 
 Weeks or even months  will pass since the break up itself, and every second of  his time he uses to  reach out to you, whether it's through phone calls or text. You better believe he's taking time to check up on you to see how you're doing–most  importantly, what you're doing and who you're with. He wants to make sure you're safe and not in the hands of any trouble or anyone he considers trouble. He has a habit of speaking with you as though you two are still together, ending many conversations with  “i love you.” and “hope to see you soon.” When he isn't reaching out to you he's thinking about you or talking to you about whatever poor soul is forced to listen. 
When he hears it from you that you’ve moved on to someone else, his heart shatters.  He had been able to deny and ignore the reality when he heard it from others but now that it was coming from you he had lost the energy to keep pretending to be okay with how things were, he feels as though you’re betraying him. In his eyes you were cheating by being with another.  Still, he doesn't make it known then and there, instead he responds with. “He can't love you the way I do.” and beyond that point he stops reaching out, and waits for you to come running back. 
 You'll learn the hard way that he was right  when you are riding back to his place drunk with tears running down your cheeks because you caught the very person you’d moved onto cheating on you with another girl. Once you two arrive, he carries you into the apartment where the two of you had  shared many memories together, because you are too drained from the events of the day to walk. He takes off your makeup using the makeup remover you’d ‘left behind’ when you moved out. Really, he stole it out of your things, along with other items because he was certain you’d come back to him under such circumstances. 
 He takes you into his arm, holding you so close and so tight to him because he’s afraid that you’ll leave him again as  you cry in his arms. “Don't know what i was thinking” his fingers stroke your hair.  “You weren't. but you should have known better.”  eren isn't too interested in giving you his sympathy because he feels he’s the one been betrayed the most here. If only you hadn't run off with someone else, none of this would be happening.
“I warned you,” he added. “I'm so sorry..” you sniffled, he swiped away your tears. his way of speaking to you had caused a wave of guilt to wash over you, you had left eren behind only to end up being made to look like a fool because you thought the grass was greener on the other side. Though he was upset with you,  Eren hated seeing  you cry.  especially over someone he didn't believe deserved your tears. “Make it up to me then.” a weight lifted off your shoulders at the offer of redemption. Little did you know, he plans to have you crying tears of another kind. 
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❥ nsfw (things get sexual from here, if you are not comfortable with this kind of content pls turn back)
Before you know it, he’s ripped your dress off you, both your clothes and underwear are thrown about the hallway leading to the bedroom you used to share. He hasn't made a single change to anything since your absence and you find yourself feeling nostalgic, thinking back to a time where things werent easy but never this complicated. you're on the bed exposed and bear before him. He hovers between your legs. “Been so long since i've seen you like this, god i've missed it so much.” he’ll coo, his emerald gaze admiring your glistening folds that have spread with his fingers. the way your cunt throbbed under the lightest of touch, begging to be filled made him grow hard. “Missed you too.” you mutter, hazily bucking your hips against his touch.
“I know.  I know.” he reassures you, giving into your silent  demands, he continues toying with you, pushing his fingers past your folds,his finger strokes at your clit. “bet that boyfriend of yours didn't know how to take care of this needy little cunt, did he.” your juices now coating his fingers, he pounds you with them, earning a symphony of moans from your lips.  “not like i do..” he says, the satisfaction of you being so reactive to his touch bringing a smile to his face, your back arching as his movements become overwhelming for you. He soon pulls out his fingers and replaces them with his cock, that had been aching to be inside of you for far too long.
He pushes one of your legs outward, granting him more access to your sweet hole, He pushes deeper inside of you all self control leaving his body the moment he hears you cry out for him, tears welling in your eyes from pleasure as he fucks into you. “So pretty, gonna fill you up with my cum.” he groans,the moment he feels you clenching around his cock, your thighs trembling. He threw his head back as he rubs his thumb across your bottom lip, admiring you in such a state.
“Eren, you can't!” You shriek, his fingers gripping at your hips harshly. He continues fucking you hard and deep, his hips smashing against your own. “cant cum inside you?” he’ll question. he continues to pound you, this is his way of letting you know he has no intention of pulling out.
“but i thought you were sorry? I thought you were mine?”There is a heartbroken tone in his voice as he speaks to you, hoping for you to reassure him you meant the words you'd spoken earlier.  You were left feeling guilty for even thinking you should have denied him. after everything you’d already done to hurt him. You had said you would make it up to and part of that required doing as he wanted.  “I am!”
“shut up and take my cum then, you said you’re mine. gotta prove it. this pussy is mine too, right baby?” you nodded in agreement, tellinf him whatever he needed to hear to keep fucking you so good, muttering the best “mhm, i love you so so much!”  you could muster while being overtaken by your orgasm as eren came inside of you, the creamy liquid dripping out of you and down your thighs. “You're not going anywhere, not now, not ever, I won't let you.” 
 Eren, Who was responsible for it all, and had developed a plan for each failed talking stage you had. since leaving him and most importantly the breakup due to your boyfriend cheating– from his actions of  intimidating them into leaving you alone with threats of physical attacks or the videos he sent them of him devouring your cunt, while you cried out his name, your fingers tugging at his brunette strands of hair. A video which had been recorded so long ago when the two of you were still together, but the idiot, who you had made the mistake of calling a boyfriend,  hadn't even bothered to verify that your nails hadn't been any color you had been since you'd meeting him. perhaps, he simply didn't care enough. it was of no big importance to eren either way, in his eyes the fool wasn't deserving of you. Just as eren believed to be the case since the beginning, he was the only one who’d love you the way you deserved and for this reason he was never going anywhere.  
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here’s my masterlist
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user00003123 · 9 months
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NOW LIVE: IN A TRANCE feat. e. jaeger
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SUMMARY: eren feels like you have him in in a trance
CONTENT WARNINGS: college! plug! eren x fem! reader, smut, mdni, college au, smoking weed, reader has piereced nipples and belly piercing, dub con (both eren & reader are high), neck kissing/sucking, nipple play, oral (f. receiving), face sitting, hand job, pussy drunk eren, nickname (pretty girl), slight dirty talk, wc. 1,957
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Eren Jaeger was the well know dealer around the campus, even having some clients that didn't attend the university. So it shouldn't have surprised him when it's you walking out of the apartment building he was sitting in front of waiting to make a delivery.
He had received a text earlier that day from someone saying they needed weed to help them relieve some stress from exams, and the person didn't live far, just on the opposite side of his apartment complex, so he didn't mind driving. Now seeing that it was you he was texting, he felt his heartbeat pick up the closer you got to his car.
From the moment he saw you on campus you've had him under your spell. Every time he would pass you on campus or see you at a party, it was like he was in a movie scene where the girl has a light from heaven shining on her and everything else around her was blurry.
Sometimes his jaw would fall open, Armin wiping the side of his mouth while saying, "Close up pretty boy, you're drooling." The comment making Jean and Connie laugh also adds to the teasing, resulting in Eren punching both boys in the arm and muttering a 'shut up.'
You clouded his thoughts, even when you weren't around somehow, distracting him while doing homework, playing the game, hanging out with friends, and even smoking. Just from locking eyes with you for one second, you were all this man could think about.
Hearing a knock on his window pulls him out of his thoughts and he rolls the window down, greeting you with a smile.
"Thank you so much for doing this," holding out your hand to give him the $30, he counts it before handing you 15. "You said it was 30."
He shakes his head, handing you the small baggy, "New customer deal." He had never given a new customer a 50% off deal before, but for you, he made the exception.
"I appreciate that Eren," and then your face contorts into a small pout. "Uh...actually, do you think you could roll these for me? I've never rolled one before."
"Oh yeah, definitely," he holds his hand out for the bag.
"How about you come up to my apartment?" You put your hands on your face in embarrassment, laughing a little. "Sorry if I sound forward or weird, I just would rather you be comfortable since I'm making you do more work.
He agrees saying it's not weird and gets out of his car following you into the building. Opening the door to your apartment he's greeted with a warm scent of vanilla as he looks around. Your lights are dim, soft sounds of Rick and Morty playing on your tv that's mounted on a wall, and a few pictures of you with friends and family next to it.
You gesture for him to sit on your couch making room on the small table you had in front of it for him to use. You sat on the smaller sofa on the opposite side of the couch pulling your legs up to your chest.
"You a smoker?" he questions taking the weed out of the small baggy he had placing it in his grinder.
"Not really, I smoke at parties if my friends have some, but that's it," he nods, taking the weed out of the grinder and sprinkling it on the paper. "How long have you been dealing?"
Pursing his lips together, he looks up thinking, "About a year."
"Do you like it?" you question, head leaning against your arms.
"Yeah, it's not a hard job, drugs are always in demand, so I'll always have business," he explains. "and the pay is good."
Finishing up rolling your blunts, he smiles at you as he shows them to you, "Perfection."
"Thank you so much," you stand up, trying to hand him the other $15 but he puts his hand up stopping you.
"I told you, new customer deal," you follow him to your door, walking him out. "Text me if you need anything else."
Making it a weekly thing, you text him when you need some weed and he'll come up to your apartment to roll it for you. The more he comes over the more you two get to know each other, eventually asking him to just stay and smoke with you, since he was still giving you a discount even though you're not a new customer anymore.
You started inviting him to hang out at your place, not even wanting to smoke, just wanting to be around him. You would notice him just staring at you sometimes, snapping your fingers in his face and he'd just apologized with a laugh. It didn't bother you, not even close, it made you feel fuzzy all over, and you finally decided to ask him about it.
Your bedroom is filled with laughter and hip-hop playing softly in the background as you are both laid on your bed. His head felt fuzzy, you consuming his thoughts and he didn't even realize he was staring with a dopey grin on his face.
"Why do you do that?" you have the same dopey grin on your face as you're looking at him and Trance by Metro Boomin starts to play.
"Do what?" He raises his eyebrow nodding his head to the beat of the song.
"Stare at me. You do it a lot," you sit up against your bed frame, your hand scratching at his scalp. He had his hair in a bun, a few strands framing his face.
"I don't know . . . you're just pretty," he licks his lips, eyes still staring into yours.
"Shut up," you laugh and he closes his eyes, enjoying your fingers playing in his hair.
"I'm serious, you're so pretty," you don't say anything. You both just humming to the music.
"You know this song reminds me of you," you look down at him, his eyes still closed.
"Why's that?"
"Whenever I look at you, I feel like I'm in a trance," he moves his hand to run over your leg. "even randomly throughout the day I'll just start thinking about you."
You pushed his head to make him look away from you as your grinning, cheeks hurt, "That's just the weed talking."
"It's not, I swear," his eyes open. "The first time I saw you, way before I even brought you weed that first time, I felt like you were compelling me to just focus on you."
"You're so dramatic," you sigh head leaning back against the headboard.
"You were just so pretty, I couldn't even focus on anything else that day," he confessed. "Even after that, we never talked and you would randomly just pop up in my head."
You hid your face in his hand, giggling at his words, head feeling so hazy. Taking a peek at him from between your fingers, he lights the blunt that was sitting on your nightstand, and he just looks so good . . .
"Come here," he taps your thighs and you look at him confused cause you’re already so close. "Sit on my lap."
Without a second thought, you were straddling his lap, feeling his dick right against your thigh, and he lets out a small groan, as he is exhaling the smoke. His eyes are low and red, looking over your body. You're wearing a white camisole that stopped just above your belly piercing and black shorts that showed quite a bit of your ass.
His hand is rubbing your thigh, his lip caught between his teeth. Your hands go under his hoodie, lightly scraping your nails against his soft skin, licking your lips at how good he looks.
He's licking his dry lips as he's looking at you before taking another drag of the blunt. Grabbing your face he pulls you down so your lips are almost touching and he blows the smoke into your mouth while you inhale it. Closing the little space between you, your lips are pressed to his in a needy and heated kiss.
Hands comb through his hair as you're lightly grinding against him, needing to ease the sensation between your legs. He puts the bunt in the ashtray then both of his hands go down to your ass, groping and helping you grind against him. Your both moaning in each other's mouth, whiny breaths.
"Want you to sit on my face," he says between kisses with a smile. You peck his lips a few more times before crawling up his body so you're clothed pussy is hovering over his face. Using his index finger, he slides your shorts over revealing your glistening cunt. He nudged your clit with his nose, inhaling your scent, then blowing his breath on the nub watching you shiver.
Being impatient you sit down on his face and he hums burring his face between your thighs, tongue greedily lapping at your wet folds. You're grabbing onto the headboard, moans slipping from your lips, as he's flicking his tongue against your clit.
He's so loud as he slurps your essence from your dripping hole, feeling it clench around nothing against his lips. You're whimpering his name, fingers tugging at his brown locks, eyes looking down to meet his. "Taste . . so good," he's so pussy drunk already, loud moans vibrating against your lower lips.
Grinding your little puffy nub into his nose, his tongue slides into your drooling hole, penetrating it, feeling you squeeze his pink muscle. He's watching your eyes screwed shut, jaw slack, and head falling back.
He has the perfect few of your pebbled nipples poking through your shirt, as your chest rises and falls, the more you hump his face, "So pretty—riding my face."
You reach behind you rubbing your hand against his bulge and he's instantly grinding against it, so needy to be touched. You push his sweatpants down with the help of him raising his hips, and his dick flings out free. You give him a few pumps before spitting in your hand and stroking him again, "Ah—fuck."
He's so messy eating your pussy, nose and chin sticky with your arousal, desperately slurping at your pussy, the sounds getting louder and filthier, as your thighs twitch around his head. He's moaning and groaning, at the taste of your pussy and how good your hand feels wrapped around his dick.
Your legs are growing tired, shamelessly humping his face, feeling your orgasm almost hit its peak, "Gonna . . cum Eren."
His eyes are rolling back, mumbling something incoherent into your pussy as his hips are stuttering into your hand. He slides his hands from your ass up to your nipples, pinching and pulling at the buds, as you start to twist your wrist and squeeze his tip as you stroked his cock.
Holding his head still with the grip you had on his now messy bun, you feel your orgasm crash over you with a few screams of Eren's name, and he's following right behind you. Globs of cum coating your hand and his lower stomach, your hand still moving helping him ride out his orgasm.
When you both come down from your highs, you're sitting back on his thighs, Eren's face is glistening with your arousal, licking his lips savoring your taste. With a lazy grin on your face, you lean down giving him sloppy kisses, tasting yourself on his lips with a moan, "Taste so sweet, pretty girl."
Kissing down your neck to your chest, he's sucking on one of your nipples, tongue darting out licking around the cold metal hearts, while his fingers play with the other one, "Can I taste you again?"
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©HANNSDIARY 2023 | all rights reserved. please don’t copy, steal, modify, or repost my work on other sites.
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1K notes · View notes
arlerts-angel · 3 months
Note
Eren teaching his cute gf how to use his vape??? 👀👀
a/n: i don't vape so idk if this is accurate BUT i love this idea bc this is SO EREN!! thank you @littlemochabunni for the part where he switches flavors for her 💕 there was no smut initially but i wanted it to be longer so enjoy!!! MWUAH (psa: i do not condone nor suggest using nicotine i am just a girl)
cw: eren jaeger x fem!reader, pet names/light degradation (baby, pretty, pretty girl, my girl, pretty slut) nicotine usage, oral sex (m!receiving)
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𝑩𝑨𝑫 𝑰𝑵𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 ★ミ
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"look baby, like this."
eren demonstrates by taking a hit followed by a few puffs of smoke rings. he brings it to your lips and watches them softly purse around it. "so fuckin' pretty. now, inhale." he instructs. you do exactly that as he presses the button. "deep breath, pretty girl. let it fill your lungs and exhale slowly."
a cloud of smoke escapes your lips quickly followed by a fit of coughs. "eren! that's disgusting! how do you smoke that?" he laughs and places a soft kiss on your head.
"poor baby. hang on. i've probably got some fruity shit for ya around here somewhere..." he mumbles as he digs through a drawer. "cotton candy sound better for my girl?" he asks with a smirk as he switches the flavors. he returns the pen to your lips.
you smile and nod while he instructs you one more time. "remember? inhale. let the smoke fill your lungs and exhale slowly. you're a smart girl... can't believe you're letting me do this to you." he shakes his head playfully. you repeat the actions and blow a cloud of smoke in his face.
"that's my girl." he grins. eren takes another hit of the vape then brings his lips to yours and kisses you, sharing the cotton candy smoke cloud with you. he licks his lips at the sight of the pen resting on your pout. he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. "i got something else i want you to blow." his jeans are tight and constricting. you notice him adjusting the bulge in his pants. "why're you hard?" you giggle.
"can't help it baby, your lips are so pretty. i want them around my cock." he replies, groaning as you eagerly free his cock and stroke it softly. you swirl your tongue around the tip before taking the rest of his length in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. "ugh fuck—just like that baby..." he groans in ecstasy, placing his hand on your head to guide you further down his cock. "you suck my cock so good. my pretty girl's such a pretty slut, too." he hisses. you hum against him and look into his eyes. he looks back at you and groans as his cock twitches. "oh fuck i'm gonna cum— fuck! ahh–" he thrusts his hips as his cum spurts into your mouth and down your throat. you swallow and wipe the spit from your mouth. "so good." he praises before taking a final hit from the vape. he leans in and kisses you once more, sharing the sweet smoke with you.
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dividers/banners by inklore
482 notes · View notes
kissatoru · 7 months
Text
★ ₊˚ WEAK FOR YOU
content. college au, dom/sub dynamics, bratty sub!eren, mean to soft dom!reader, gn!reader, dry humping, humiliation, nipple play, degradation, praise, edging, handjob, blowjob
wc. ~6.8k
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house parties aren’t really your thing. you’ve been to a few but you quickly discovered that they involve a lot more vomit and interpersonal drama than you have the tolerance for, so you tend to avoid them. you would’ve turned down the invitation for this one too, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was eren jaeger who offered it up to you. that’s why you’re here, at the house of someone who’s a friend of a friend’s friend, at sometime past midnight. you’re leaning against the wall, sipping on a half-empty can of pop.
you finally spot eren, making his way over to you with a grin much too wide for someone who’s late to a party he invited you to. he looks good, dressed in a white tank top that brings out the musculature of his arms and black skinny jeans you’ve only ever seen him wear to parties like this one, since he usually wears sweatpants everywhere else. his hair is half-down and half-up in a bun, not too different from the usual messy man bun he goes for.
once he arrives at your side, beer can in hand, you exchange greetings and small talk, talking about nothing and everything. in the middle of a conversation, some drunk rando throws up by your feet, so you and eren migrate to a different room. on the way though, another person bumps into you and spills their drink down your shirt. it doesn’t help that you were already damp with sweat from how hot and stuffy it is, as well as nauseous from the lingering stench of vomit mixed with alcohol and BO. you meet their eyes with hellfire on your tongue and in any other situation, you would’ve let it loose, but the way they paw at your clothes and slur their apology reminds you that you’re in a house full of clumsy idiots just like them, so you just shrug it off and focus on finding a bathroom to clean up in.
that’s what eren likes about you. you’re down-to-earth and keep to yourself, but don’t let people walk over you and speak out when you need to; you’re not exactly timid, but you’re soft-spoken in a way that suits your voice and nice to people without being overly nice. oh and don’t get him started on your witty humour and the way you play off other people’s jokes so effortlessly; even when you shake your head or roll your eyes or just ignore him after he tells a joke that doesn’t land, he’s buzzing. that’s why he’s been ogling you during your shared lectures, the reason he keeps ‘losing’ his pens and asking to borrow from you, the reason he keeps ‘forgetting’ to give them back, the reason he asked you out to this party! something about you just got eren hooked, to the point that he couldn’t stop thinking about you, to the point he would wake up with a boner almost every morning and jerk off from what he remembered of his dreams about you; to the point those dreams turned into fantasies, imagining what your body looks like under your clothes, what your moans sound like, what faces you’d make.
you, on the other hand, didn’t have any strong feelings toward eren until later. you thought of him as kind of average, if not a little loud and annoying at times, such as when he disrupted class, but in a word, tolerable, and definitely not the worst classmate you’ve ever had. usually, you’d never give a guy like him the time of day unless he actually tried to pursue you (instead of just flirting and joking around aimlessly) but your interest was piqued after your friends passed on to you some rumours about him being a self-proclaimed ‘hardcore dom’. from that point on, you were just as hooked. you became less dismissive and a little more friendly, playing along with his game — long enough so that he’d never see it coming once you finally sunk your claws into him.
that’s why, when you finally find the bathroom, you stop in the doorway, turn to eren in your stained shirt and say, “do you mind helping me clean up?”
the excitement in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed as he answers a nonchalant, “yeah, sure,” and follows you inside. the soft click of the lock has eren’s pulse jumping because he knows exactly where this is going. he knew you had to feel something back, that you couldn’t resist his advances forever. his eyes scan you shamelessly while you pull your top over your head and start wiping your chest down with a towel. he leans against the door and comments, “hey now, you might give a guy the wrong idea taking off your clothes like that,” and that’s what sets everything else into motion.
“yeah?” you say as you step closer. your voice is hushed, lowered, as if to whisper a dirty secret. “how do you know it’s the wrong idea?”
eren falters at your forwardness, but runs a palm over his hair and regains his composure. “i guess i don’t,” he says, not even trying to hide the way he’s staring at your lips. “so, is it?” his dark gaze flicks back up to your eyes. “the wrong idea?”
you smile and make sure to bat your eyelashes extra prettily as you whisper, “why don’t you kiss me and find out?”
his lips are on you as soon as you finish the question and his hands grasp at you while he backs you up against the door. he kisses you feverishly and as impatiently as you’ve been feeling this entire night. you let him kiss along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone, but before he can get too carried away, you guide him back to your lips. this time, you take over leadership in the kiss. eren smirks, mistaking it for eagerness, until a skilled tongue slides into his mouth and your hands begin to touch him with confidence and ease. his breath hitches once, twice, and it only spirals from there. he’s gasping and panting in seconds, overwhelmed and barely managing to keep up. slowly but surely, you’re pushing back, and he can feel himself giving in, involuntarily yielding to you like it’s a biological instinct. he doesn’t even realise how bad it is until it’s too late, until his back is pressed against the door and his centre of gravity becomes you, staring at him with a look he’s never seen on your face before.
“you’re real pretty, you know that, right?” you tell him as you tuck some of the loose hair from his bun behind his ear. eren opens his mouth, presumably to bark out a retort at your (what he believes to be) demeaning choice of words, but all that comes out is a quiet moan as your knee rides up between his legs. you take advantage of that and slip your thumb inside, pressing down on his tongue and opening his mouth wider. “so pretty,” you add in a croon, but then he brings his teeth down and bites your thumb. you don’t give him the satisfaction of a pained reaction, settling for a disappointed glare and a tight grip of his jaw. “don’t be a brat now, jaeger. you don’t wanna know what i do to brats.” interestingly, the lump against your knee twitches. you arch an eyebrow. “oh? or maybe you do?”
his eyes are on yours, seemingly stern and rebellious but you know it’s just a ruse; you know begging for mercy when you see it. such eyes suit him, you’ll give him that, but you’d have to be a fool not to take this opportunity, to give him that final nudge, those final few centimetres he needs to be all yours. so you whisper into his ear, the kinds of things he’s used to saying and worse, until he’s flushed and speechless, stuttering over his breaths and holding back whines. it’s almost too easy when you lean down to his neck, and he just lifts his chin and gives it to you, without you even having to ask. you reward him with red kisses and purple lovebites that have the skin beneath your lips thrumming with suppressed moans. it’s such a treat too, how affected he is when you’ve barely even started.
some part of eren is still screaming at him to steal back his dignity and the role he’s made a reputation out of, but his pants are damp and so tight it hurts, it’s really not his fault when he starts grinding against your knee in search of relief. you find it adorable, really, and smirk against his neck as you press your knee forward in an act of pity. a whimper slips from him and he ruts against you faster, more desperately, so desperately. he almost sobs because he was sure your actions would be as cruel as your words, but he’s too caught up in chasing his high to feel relieved or thankful. he focuses only on moving his hips, back and forth, back and forth, and holy shit, is he really about to cum already? in his pants, like some teenager?
he stops his movements, shaking with the effort of keeping still. with clammy hands, he hurries to undo his jeans, but you snatch them away and pin them to the wall. your curled lips indicate that you understand the situation just fine without an explanation, yet you still have the audacity to say, “what’s the matter? don’t you wanna cum?” your tone all flowery and pure as you pick up where he left off, mercilessly rubbing his cock through the fabric.
“no, no, no, fuck,” eren chokes out, even as he betrays himself by meeting your knee halfway, but he just can’t stop! his peak is drawing closer and closer and his downward motions just get harder and faster. it feels so good and he’s so, so close–
“don’t cum yet.”
eren’s first thought is: how the fuck is he supposed to do that? but then his second thought is: why would he listen to you anyway? what authority do you have over him? and yet what comes out of his mouth is, “please–”
“begging so soon?” you say against his lips. “that’s sweet, it really is.” you let go of his wrists and trail your hands down his arms to his chest, then over a nipple experimentally, grinning when you feel it pebble under your light touch. you give it some more attention, circling and rubbing it through the fabric until eren’s hands are clutching your shoulders and he’s curling in on himself trying to escape the foreign sensation. he never thought that part of his body could feel... good?
you suddenly pinch and twist it and eren whines. the pain is sharp, and yet that’s what has his orgasm returning. with only a few more grinds against your knee, it’s hitting him fast, from all angles, and the thing he’s been dreading finally comes true. he soaks his underwear with cum, hot and sticky and disgusting. he moans weakly, digging his blunt fingernails into your shoulders as his head raises up against the door.
you sigh, disappointed. “i didn’t say you could cum.”
eren is standing there, trying to catch his breath and too out of it to respond to you, when you suddenly grab him through his pants. his back arches at the overstimulation and you’re smiling because of course you are as your hand massages over his bulge and the horrid squelching sounds remind him of his shame. he tries to get away from the stimulation, gasping out, “stop, stop, stop!” but when you don’t hear that lovely ‘please’ you only quicken your ministrations.
“you’re such a pervert, eren,” you taunt, soft and sultry, as if you weren’t humiliating him with your words. “cumming in your pants from having your nipples played with? and it’s only been like, what, a minute?”
his cheeks turn pink, his eyebrows knit together, and all he can say is a shaky, “shut up.”
you snicker. “aw, don’t be embarrassed. it’s cute! you’re just like a virgin.”
“i’m not a virgin,” he croaks out, and it’s true, but you pretend to be unconvinced so you can watch him rush to make you believe him while his face blooms a darker shade of pink and his cock hardens at your touch — or maybe your words? either way, you continue palming him until his defiant expression fades, until it’s replaced by parted lips and hooded eyes.
then you pull away, just as he’s starting to buck into your palm. you relish the way he looks at you, so questioning and betrayed. you wish you could see what other faces you can get him to make, but now that you’ve given him a taste, you intend to take it all away. it’s the funnest part of this all; leaving him wanting after planting the seed of what could be into his mind, letting him continue with his life of hook-ups and one-night-stands before he inevitably comes running back to you. it would be so easy now to lose your patience and ravage him like a starved man, sure, but that takes away the fun in taking him apart piece by piece. you’ve come all this way; it would be a shame not to savour it.
“why did you stop?”
there it is, you think, and you can’t help smiling. “you told me to,” you answer as you take a step back. eren stands there, the start of a protest falling from his lips. you don’t wait for him to finish, instead reaching for your shirt and putting it back on.
“hey,” eren scoffs and grabs your arm. “you can’t just leave.” his tone is light-hearted, but you can tell he’s being serious, and that it’s more like a plea rather than the statement it’s phrased as.
“oh, can’t i?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “why not?”
eren looks at you, then his crotch. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this lost for words.
you just laugh through your nose, like he’s told a bad joke. “this is your punishment, eren. you should remember it next time you think about disobeying me.” you wave your hand for him to move, but he lingers, so you give him a pointed look, a silent demand. he steps out of the way and you open the door. “see you in class on monday,” you say over your shoulder before shutting the door behind you.
standing there with his heart still pounding with adrenaline, eren realises that he was right before; your actions are as cruel as your words, crueller even, he just guessed too soon. he should be livid — you’ve left him covered in hickeys, with an aching boner and cum that’s still warm in his pants — but all he can think about is two words: next time. even after days have passed, he doesn’t stop thinking about them. he clings to them like a lifeline, every day and every class with you after that; turning those words over, listening to the echo of your voice in his mind, the way your lips moved around those two bittersweet syllables. he thinks about them for an entire three weeks before they finally come into existence thanks to a class assignment that gets the two of you paired up.
you avoid inviting him over too soon, purposely offering to meet up at cafés and the campus library. at first, they were nothing more than that: just doing actual work for the assignment. but soon enough, you start to tease and distract him; a foot skimming his inner calf one too many times to be an accident, a hand on his thigh that rubs up and down but never more. it’s torture, yet eren feels giddy at the prospect of it leading up to something more, every single time, wondering if this will be the time you go further.
there’s one time he’s sure you will. it starts out innocent, you asking him to get a book that’s too high up for you. as he reaches for it, his shirt lifts up, revealing a strip of his v-line and the waistband of his boxers, how the edge of skin above it is slightly paler, where his tan didn’t reach...
it’s gone as soon as it appears and usually your thoughts would vanish with it — except the aisle happens to be dowsed in shadows from a broken light and the closest person around is on the other side of the library. so instead of your urges slipping away, it’s your self-restraint, and rather than taking the book, you take his wrist. then you pin him to wall and use your other hand to push his lips into yours, all in one fell swoop. the intensity with which you kiss him and the way you have him pressed against the wall brings him back to that night. he kisses back just as passionately, all slippery saliva and clashing teeth. he’s sweating already, hot with the thrill of what else you’re willing to do, how far you’re willing to go in a public place like this. would you touch him? make him cum in his pants? leave him hard?
a hand clutching onto your shirt brings you back to your senses. you pull away and eren tries to chase your lips, but you catch his jaw before he can. he’s still panting from the residual excitement of earlier. his eyes stare at you, puppy-like in the way they speak a silent plea and twinkle with the reflection of the library ceiling lights behind you. you just smile and pet his spit-slick lips with a thumb, the gentle touch distracting him long enough for you to grab the book he’s still holding and step back. “thanks,” you say, gesturing to the book before walking away.
just seconds ago, eren’s mind was racing with thoughts, but as he stares at your retreating back, his only thought is that you really are cruel — and yet it is that thought, and that moment, that replay in his head that very night as he’s roughly pumping his cock and cumming in his underwear, if only to pretend you forced him to, just like back then. he’s pathetic, he knows that, but at the same time, it’s all he can do. he just feels so... he doesn’t even know what to call it, but it has him drooling after everything you do. he’s never felt this way about anyone. he’s only ever slept around with people, too afraid of committment for even friends with benefits or a situationship. he’s not even all that great with friendships, with only two friends he’s been lucky enough to have by his side since childhood, and a few guys he talks to and has lunch with at uni, but never actually hangs out with outside of class. but you? you have something that makes him want to stay, to keep going after you; you’re the reason he hasn’t slept with anyone since the party. he’s tried to, but it’s just not the same. he feels like you’ve ruined him for everyone else. that’s why he has no other choice but to fuck his fist after every meet-up with you, imagining it as your fist while the words you left him with loop in his head.
it isn’t until over halfway through the project that eren’s pining finally reaches its peak with a single message:
let’s work at my place today, usual time
the way it’s not a question does something to him, which is when he realises how pent-up he is. he knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but by the time he reaches your dorm, he’s already half-hard. he wipes his sweaty hands off on his tee and adjusts himself in his sweatpants before knocking on your door. when you open it, you’re in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, legs bare and feet clad in slippers.
“you’re early,” you say as eren strolls inside.
he scoffs. “not on purpose,” he says, hoping you don’t see through his façade (you do). he slides his hands into his pockets and takes a look around your room. various shelves and decoration on your walls, reflecting your interests; memorabilia and clutter on different surfaces and furniture. some clothes thrown over your desk chair, a few plants and books. there’s a scent in the air too, not too strong but prominent and uniquely you.
“when you’re done snooping around my room like a creep,” you call out from your bed, “we should get on with the assignment.” your fingers clack away on your laptop keyboard for a bit before looking at eren. “i know the deadline’s next friday but i’d rather get it done as soon as, y’know?”
eren’s stomach drops. he completely forgot the real reason he was invited here; the innocent reason he was invited here. your tone was casual, gave no indication that you knew, yet as he stands there in front of you, he feels like you’re in his head. do you know the effect you had on him at the party? the effect you continue to have on him? shit, eren thinks, as he clenches and unclenches his fists. he wants to respond, play it off cool and act like he only agreed to come so enthusiastically because he cares about his grades, but his mind is blank.
“cat got your tongue?” you tease, shifting into a position that has you face-on to eren. then you slide to the edge of the bed and lean forward. “why so quiet, jaeger? that’s not like you, your loud mouth usually always has something to say.” those scrutinising eyes scan him from head to toe. slowly. “and where are all the materials anyway? the ones you were meant to bring? for the assignment?”
he feels caught, trapped like prey, and with every few-second flick of your eyes, every purposely chosen word and perfectly timed pause, he feels himself get smaller and smaller.
“don’t tell me,” you start, but with those three words alone, eren already knows his fate has been sealed, “you thought we wouldn’t actually be doing the assignment?” you’re smiling now, the same smile you had in that bathroom three weeks ago as you palmed him through his cum-soaked pants. “what did you think we were going to do, huh? please, tell me...” your eyes narrow into slits and your lips stretch out in a smile, showing off teeth that flash like a predator’s. “i am so curious.”
you’re pushing his buttons, making him feel like the desperate one, and maybe he is, but could you blame him? eren just wants another taste of what you gave him at the party, and most of all, he wants you. he realises that maybe you really did just send that text with the intention of working on the assignment, but there’s no denying that in this moment, that’s not what this is; in this moment, you’re nudging him forward after toying with his sexual frustration, and in this moment, eren decides to put a stop to it.
he stomps forward until he’s looming over you, a sharp scowl twisting his features. “stop playing dumb, (name). you know damn well what you were doing when you sent me that text,” he snarls, sea green eyes stormy and narrowed. “i’m done with these games, alright? if you’re not going to take responsibility for making me like this, then– then i will.” he almost falters from the weight of your eyes, the way they just sit there, waiting and unfazed, but he steels his composure. “you’re just a brat anyway,” he says, leaning in. “all you really want is for someone to put you back in your place.”
that smile hasn’t left; hasn’t so much as twitched. in the position you’re in, you’re looking up at him, but the way you’re doing it makes it feel as though eren is the one looking up, the one being looked down on. “well... you’re right about me knowing what i was doing,” you admit, “but the rest? not so much. not for me, anyway.” you trace the collar of eren’s t-shirt with your fingertips, drag your palm down his chest...
you suddenly bunch up the fabric and yank it with a tight fist. your other hand catches eren’s shoulder and keeps him steady as his palms land on either side of you, knees bent and head in the crook of your neck. “come now, jaeger. do you really think i’m the brat in this situation?” you say softly, your breath warm and your lips featherlight as they graze his ear lobe. “put me back in my place?” you giggle quietly and it reverberates through eren’s skull like a thunder clap. “does that really sound like something you want to do to me?” he can feel the way you smile against the shell of his ear, the wetness of your teeth. “or is that just the only way you know how to ask for something to be done to you?”
eren is hidden in your neck yet he feels completely exposed. he wants to mask the way your words make his breathing stutter, but when you’re this close, even he knows it’s no use. all he can do is stay right where he is, frozen in a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation.
you shove eren back and he crumbles to the floor on all fours. “that’s more like it.” you tilt your head at him as he sits up on his knees. “doesn’t this feel so much better?”
eren doesn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but it does feel better. his gaze drops to his lap in shame but that’s where he sees the even more shameful bulge that’s formed between his legs. he instinctually covers it up, but he’s too late, and his attempt at hiding it only confirms what you already know. you reach over and angle his head up by his chin. you have an unimpressed expression on your face, but your eyes contrast it with their fiery intrigue. “wow, eren,” you say through an amused sigh as you lean in close to his face. “are you seriously hard right now?”
he swallows nervously and presses his thighs together. his breathing is already faltering in his chest, but he tries to keep it steady as he replies, “you can’t blame me. you’ve been teasing me ever since you left me at the party. just like this.”
a hand yanks his head back by his hair and eren is unable to stop the moan that escapes him. he chews on his lip as you sneer down at him. “being left like that was exactly what you deserved,” you mutter, then you raise your eyebrows, feigning a contemplative expression, “but maybe another, harsher punishment is what you need to learn your lesson, hm?”
eren’s dick twitches and he would’ve nodded too, if he didn’t register at the last minute that punishments aren’t meant to be enjoyed.
you catch it anyway, and scoff. “of course, you’d like that, you fucking whore.” you let go of his hair and lean back. eren stares at you, confused, until you pat your lap. “sit,” you tell him. your posture is relaxed, in contrast to his, which tenses as he straddles your lap, resting his hands on your shoulders. your eyes widen and you smile incredulously. “i guess leaving you like that wasn’t entirely useless, huh?” you laugh to yourself and massage along his hips and thighs before finally tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down, slowly, along with his underwear. a shudder runs down eren’s spine at the touch of cool air on his skin. his hard cock bumps against his abdomen, leaving behind a shiny smudge of precum. you tap his wet tip and draw circles around it, making eren hiss and briefly dig his nails into your shoulders.
“don’t–” he stops himself when you glance up at him.
your eyebrows raise. “what was that?” you ask, but he just swallows and remains silent. “use your manners, baby. you’ve done it once before, so i know you can.” your other hand snakes under his t-shirt and caresses his side. “don’t get shy now. if you’re cute enough, i might give you a reward.”
eren shifts in your lap. there’s a pause. then, “please.”
you chuckle. “come on, ‘ren,” you say, “you can do better than that.”
he looks exasperated, but tries again anyway. “please,” he repeats. “please just– just touch me. please.”
he makes it too easy to tease him, you think, as you grin wickedly. “but i’m touching you right now, aren’t i?”
eren groans. “yes but– you’re not–” he jumps as you dip your nail gently into his slit. “fuck, just put your hand around my cock please.”
you surprise him by doing exactly that, a loud moan being torn out of him. your grip is tight as you drag your fingers down his length, spreading his precum. with how pent up he’s been, eren feels like he’s close already. his body tingles with pleasure and anticipation. it’s almost too much, yet not enough, the way you slide your hand up then down, up then down, steady and unrushed. just as eren is about to ask you to go faster, you rotate your hand over his leaking tip and he chokes on his words. you do it again, and again, before returning to your previous motions. you repeat this, changing your pace a few times, just to watch him squirm, before resuming your steady pumping. eren begins to wonder if you’re waiting for him to beg more, if you’ll just keep doing this until he asks you to go faster, but the next time you change your pace, it’s fast and doesn’t stop, just goes even faster. eren stumbles over his breaths. he’s relieved, but at the same time it’s too fast. “fuck, slo– slow down,” he says in a strangled voice. he is hurtling toward his orgasm, he’s definitely not going to last. shit, how were you able to go so fast and hard at the same time? it felt like he was on fire. he’s so–
you stop.
a single meek drop of precum trickles down eren’s dick.
“no–” he groans. “what the fuck? why did– why didn’t you–”
“did you forget already?” you interrupt, grinning from ear to ear. eren’s lips remain pursed in frustration. “this is your punishment, remember?”
a range of emotions pass over eren’s face: realisation, horror, anger, desperation, self-pity. you watch his inner conflict set aflame, how he looks down at his aching dick, how his fingers twitch and one hand even goes as far as to dip down to try and touch himself, but you grab it and place it back around your neck. “only i get to touch you, and only i will decide when you get to cum,” you tell him and eren curses under his breath but stays put. from there, you go back to touching him. you bring him to the edge, over and over, abusing your knowledge of all his weak spots, squeezing and rubbing and pumping vigourously for what must be at least eight times; until his speech is slurred and his pleas are barely intelligible.
when you let go for the final time, you hear him sniffle against your neck.
“that bad, huh?” you mumble, mostly to yourself. you slip your hands beneath his shirt and trace the smooth plains of his torso, up and down, feeling the muscles ripple and writhe from the barely-there touch. “okay,” you say, “you’ve been good, so i’ll reward you now.” his hips jut out violently and grind against your stomach. you grab his drenched cock and suck your teeth in disapproval. “don’t ruin it by getting too greedy now, eren.”
he stares at you, turquoise irises engulfed in black pupils, and licks his lips. “what’s my reward?”
you just smile. “you’ll find out soon enough,” you answer. you pull up his waistband and snap it against his sensitive cock, making him yelp. “first, i want you to get up and take off your clothes.”
eren is eager and obeys quickly, making a show of it as he does; flexing his muscles a little more than necessary, his movements slow and sensual and tempting because that’s just how he’s done this every time before this. but the sooner that usual ego of his rises, the sooner it falls, because once he’s down to his last item of clothing — his boxers — he just stands there like he doesn’t know what to do next. he does, of course, but he’s feeling what seems like dread at the idea of being completely naked in front of you. not because he’s insecure, but the fact that it’s you he’s showing it to; you with your fox grins and cruel, humiliating words, your rough treatment and watchful eyes... fuck, just the thought is making him harder, and then even harder as he wonders if you can see it. will you point it out? will you make fun of him? call him names?
eren jumps when you graze his crotch with the end of your foot. “having second thoughts?” you say, teasing but serious all the same.
“no,” he says without hesitating.
“then go on.” you lift your foot and eren tenses in anticipation, but you just grin wider and point to the head of his dick, peering out slightly from his boxers, without touching it. “don’t keep me waiting.”
he slides the waistband down his thighs and lets it drop to his feet, then steps out and tosses the garment aside. you’re still fully clothed and relaxed while you look him up and down. eren slides a hand over the top of his hair, pushing away the fallen strands. he thought he felt exposed earlier, but now it’s even worse. your eyes are practically devouring him, but you can’t help it. the way he’s standing there, completely nude while you aren’t, waiting for your next command while staring at you with those dark aqua eyes from under pretty dark eyelashes. no number of late-night fantasising would do this sight justice, yet you wonder if you can make it even better. you wonder if you can push him just a little bit further, see how much more you can bend him before he breaks.
“you look nervous, eren,” you say. “are you sure you–”
“yes! yes, i’m sure,” he all but gasps out.
you arch an eyebrow at his interruption. “i was going to say are you sure you want this? are you sure you want me?” you clarify. “for all i know, you’re just a slut who’ll pounce on anyone. how do i know i’m not just a set of holes to you, hm?”
eren frowns. “no, that’s not–” he steps closer to you and sinks to his knees in front of you. “i only want you, (name). no one...” his cheeks flush hot and he looks away from your eyes. “no one else could fuck me as good as you.”
it’s not the entire truth and you know that. you’ve always been good at reading people. though eren may be better than the average person at lying, around you? all of that depletes and he becomes an open book. “and how would you know that?” you say as you lean back on your palms.
“i don’t,” eren says as he places his hands on your knees, “but maybe you can show me?”
it’s pathetic yet so beautiful to see a man like eren jaeger like this: on his knees and at your disposal. it’s almost a shame you couldn’t get here sooner, but you’ve always believed in delayed gratification, in trusting the process and the like; that’s why you adore men like him, who’ve only ever been doms and have never even considered anything else. it’s so much fun to string them along, allow them to unknowingly fall into a false sense of security, to make them think you’re just another obedient little sub, and how once you’ve built that up enough, breaking them is all the sweeter.
the shift of you leaning forward makes eren sit up. he’s not sure what he’s expecting, but you gently petting his hair definitely isn’t it. he melts, dropping his head and resting his cheek against your knee, just like you thought he would. after all, you noticed that pushing back loose hair is a nervous tic of his, and so naturally this kind of touch comforts him. you smile fondly at that.
the tender moment is broken by eren humping your leg. you’re not sure if he even realises he’s doing it. his eyes are shut and he’s whimpering like a dog. the grasp he has around your knees tightens. “eren,” you say to him and he seems to regain some awareness, stopping his movement and looking up at you. “would you like your reward?”
he breathes out like he’s been holding it. “please.”
you pat the space behind you. “come lay down.”
he does so and you wait for him to get comfortable before perching yourself on his lap. you begin by sliding your hands up his torso and back down again, tracing the dips and curves of his body. you litter kisses from his neck to his collarbone and chest. your breath ghosts over a nipple and eren shivers. you take a second to smile before flicking your tongue over the dark pink bud. his chest raises off the bed and into your mouth as you latch onto the nub and swirl your tongue around it. your hand makes work of his other nipple and eren’s hips buck into you. a string of spit forms and snaps as you pull away and resume your path down his torso, pecking down his belly, hip and finally, his inner thigh. you feel eren squirm as your cool breaths hit his drooling cock. you flatten your tongue and lick up from the base, kissing the tip wetly before taking it into your mouth and sucking hard. eren throws his head back and moans, fallen strands fanning out against the pillows. his hips are restless, so you hold them down while you slide down to the base, then back up to suck on the tip again. your motions are smooth, aided by saliva and precum, as you begin to bob your head up and down his length.
eren’s fingers find your hair and cling there. you break away to mutter a cautionary, “easy,” then swallow down his cock again, moving quicker now. with how you’ve been teasing and edging him, you suspect that he’ll cum soon. his sounds get higher and louder, more frequent, and every so often the hands on your head flinch or scratch or curl.
“i’m close, i’m close,” eren warns through laboured breaths. his skin is damp with sweat, long strands sticking to his forehead in curled shapes. “please le– let me cum.”
you answer him by not stopping, by using your hand to pump the bottom half of his cock while continuing to suck on the rest with hollowed cheeks and wet lips.
“fuck, m’gonna c– ah! fuck, please let– please!” his back arches, sheets peeling off his skin before he collapses again, abdomen contracting. “please say i can–” his nails dig into your scalp as he moans, drawn out and loud. hot fluid fills up your mouth and throat. you swallow and don’t cease moving until eren is pawing at your face and mumbling about how it’s too much. afterwards, unable to hold back your teasing nature, you give a few kitten licks to his reddened tip, enjoying how it makes him whine and jolt.
“i take it you liked your reward then?” you say, pushing away the stringy hair around his cheeks and forehead.
“yeah,” eren pants, and as he’s lying there, all blissed out and in the process of winding down from his high, you’re gazing down at him in a way he’s only been able to dream of until now and he realises that sure, blowjobs aren’t anything special or revolutionary, but everything leading up to it is what made it so amazing, you are what made it so amazing. you’re everything he didn’t know he wanted, the key that unlocked his hidden desires, and even if you were to leave him hard and aching for your touch again, even if you teased him to no end and laughed at him and called him names, he’d still come back if you gave him the chance because he loves it. he loves you.
you lean in and kiss eren; delicately, kindly, with care and a gentle want, a peaceful want reserved for lovers, because somewhere along the way you started to develop feelings for him. eren had only hoped for such a thing, thought that it was wishful thinking and delusion that gave him the impression you might feel the same way. maybe you didn’t at the beginning; maybe it started out as just lust, but right now you love him and he loves you. the lust is still there, but it’s soft now, and so much more than it was.
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notes. couldn’t help making it soft at the end! i’ve reread this so many times i genuinely have no idea if it’s good but i hope you enjoyed it<3
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seeingivy · 11 months
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roommates (completed) ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
roommate eren x f!reader 
after finding yourself in an unfortunate situation, you room with your co-workers best friend eren for the time being 
content: roommates au, miscommunication trope, mutual pining, teeny tiny bit of angst, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, a bit of suggestive content, taylor alison swift, the most corny little eren that ever eren-ed 
read on ao3
first meeting
tending to injuries
flu season
bad day
3:45 am
the morning after!
meet the parents
fall concert
miscommunication
how to fight
three days
befriend your landlord
the party scene
the scouts
your fiercest protectors
fall banquet 
engaged and in love
important questions
you’re always welcome to send a lil question + request for lil bonuses abt this story and this man if you so desire (roommate eren nation rise, he will NEVER DIE) 
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rissouu · 3 months
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messages w ur man/plug| eren jaeger.
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©rissouu 2023 (if u can’t tell, im obsessed with making these.. and omg im so sorry ms summer it’s all love girl)
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mochimooon · 4 months
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DTF Only (Tinder Wh*re) - eren jaeger x reader 18+
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pairing: Eren Jaeger x afab! Reader summary: On a six-day Tinder streak, you don't plan to stop for Friday night. Especially when Eren invites you out for a drink. word count: 4500+ notes: Part 7 of DTF Only. Aight, first time writing fanon! Eren. Ya'll know what to expect here. As always indented text refers to reader's messages. warnings: smut, explicit content, explicit language, oral sex (f! receiving), exhibitionism, semi-public sex, degradation, alcohol consumption, toxic power-play, name-calling, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex ☻ masterpost☻
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ !!
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Pieck’s message lights up your phone.
Another one??? 
You’ve outdone yourself. Six dates in a row and your streak continues tonight. 
The latest match, Eren invited you for a round of drinks. Simple and low-key. 
As far as appearance goes, you’re mesmerized. His striking features had you scrolling through both his profile and Instagram (included in his bio). Green eyes, tan skin, dark brown hair that fell just shy of his shoulders, styled mostly in a haphazard bun. Not to mention the number of shirtless selfies, it’s obvious: he knows he’s hot.
Arrogance isn’t usually your flavor, but glimpses of a tongue ring challenge you to expand your palate.
He’s such a WHORE!!  You can just tell
Yep. Whore-vibes.  And that tongue ring…😛
lol, freak. I’m so proud of you.  One week and you’re already thinking Colt who?
You laugh at that, albeit it’s a hollow one. A week later and you’re still not sure how to feel, and a part of you is concerned some untapped feelings will catch up to you later. 
Despite the fun you’ve had on these dates, Colt has creeped into your mind a few times, mainly because he’s the last person you were with. However, thoughts of him don’t linger long enough by the time you’re getting busy with your Tinder matches. 
Still, you do wonder what he’s up to. 
Is he on Tinder too in his city? If so, you don’t feel anything strongly about that. 
Just then, you get a new text message. 
Heading out now See you there ;)
Much like the other guys, you and Eren had exchanged personal numbers. You had no problem with it, preferring it that way you could call them if you had to, and vice versa. 
Almost ready 😊 Be there soon
It’s easy to find Eren at the bar. You might be pushing your luck, but you’re grateful that every guy you’ve matched with looks like their pictures (and even better in person). 
He’s snagged a table near the bar, a negroni, barely touched, indicating that he hasn’t been waiting long. As you approach, you take this opportunity to assess him, and your face warms the closer you get to the table. 
He’s…attractive, almost painfully so. An effortless kind of swagger in the way he sits on the chair, elbow bent over the edge, a hand stretched out on the table, tapping his fingers. You’re surprised that he’s not mobbed by a flood of men and women right now. 
Walking past the bouncer, green eyes zero in on you, lighting up like a radar. 
Eren gets to his feet, gliding forth to say your name in a smooth low tone. “Hey there, pretty girl.”
You shiver from the toned muscle you’re pressed against. “Hi, Eren, nice to meet you.”
“I opened up a tab,” he says as he returns to his seat. “Someone will come over and you can place an order.” As he speaks, you’re given the first glimpse of that tongue ring. 
You force yourself to look away to keep from drooling over it. “Cool, thank you. I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?”
“Nah. Barely placed this order.” He points to the negroni. “You’re good.”
A waitress comes by in a second to take your drink order. 
“A tab’s open already,” Eren tells her. “Under Jaeger.”
You pause, mind reeling from the name. You wave it off. “Is this your go-to spot?"
Eren finishes a sip, nodding. “Yeah, my friend used to bartend here after college, and he always had the hook-ups. He doesn’t work here anymore, so the perks are gone, but it’s still a nice place to grab drinks.”
Your drink arrives a few minutes later, as you tell Eren about your week, omitting your previous Tinder escapades. He nods and hums to acknowledge that he’s listening, but his eyes are in deep thought, wandering from your face to your lips, down your neck with an indifferent expression. 
When you pause to have more of your cocktail, a smirk ghosts Eren’s lips. 
“So...let’s hear about this ex-boyfriend.” 
You raise a brow, taken aback. Not once did you mention Colt, so you’re at a loss as to why Eren would dig for that sort of detail.
Confused and a little peeved, you say, “That’s an awkward thing to ask about on a first date.” 
“I have a sixth sense.” Eren doesn’t parse his words. “Most women on Tinder are fresh out of a breakup and want to get under someone to forget them.” He shrugs. “Not judging at all. I’m more than happy to offer my service.”
Your brows knit together, unsure of what to do think of that. “Sounds like a hot take. I’m not going to talk about past relationships. It’s boring.”
This yields the opposite reaction you wanted from Eren. Because instead of dropping it, he leans closer, brow arched, ears peeled ready for gossip. “He was boring? How so?”
You purse your lips, averting his question. “What about you? On Tinder for a rebound hook up?”
The whore laughs, hearty and patronizing. “I’m not on the rebound.” 
“So, you’re telling me every date you’ve gone on so far was to serve as someone’s rebound?”
He shrugs again, unfazed. “Maybe not every date, but most. Again, no shade, just curious to know. I feel like I’m right though.”
Is that what you’re doing? Rebound fucks? You don’t see it that way. 
Sounds like he's just nosy. What he plans to do with any information you share about Colt, you’re not sure. But then Ymir’s voice rattles in your head from a phone conversation you had with her earlier that day.
You had just sent her screenshots of Eren’s profile.  
“Hoodrat for sure. I’d be careful, though.”
“Why? If all he wants is sex, who cares?” you had said. 
“I know you’re not interested in him like that,” Ymir continued. “What I mean is that a guy like Eren has a big ego. Game-playing, all that. Knowing you, that might get on your nerves before you get a chance to get naked with him.”
“Meaning?”
Ymir chuckled. “Meaning you’ve got an ego too.”
You wonder then if that’s why Eren’s so interested in knowing about your past relationship. Perhaps, it is a show of ego, a way for him to measure up or out-measure someone you’ve already been with. 
You busy yourself with your cocktail as Eren takes a long gulp of his negroni, green eyes flitting back to the bar. While you try to get to a better read on him, you’re unable to concentrate.
Your mind spins in circles, moving and bobbing like his Adam’s apple. He’s leaning against the barstool, in the same careless swagger. Ego or not, you hate to admit that he has every right to be full of himself.
Setting the glass down, Eren’s tongue falls out in a satiated sigh. You’re not discreet and Eren catches that. He grins, tongue swiping along his bottom lip. The metal stud sways like a pendulum. 
Your jaw slowly loosens, hooded eyes zeroed in on the piercing. 
“You like that?” Eren moves his tongue in a way that prods the stud out further. 
Oh, you like it a lot. Eren hadn’t displayed it fully on his profile, but a few pics of him laughing, you swear you caught the shine of metal in his mouth.
Recollecting your wits, you say, “Tell me about that piercing. Does it hurt?”
Eren shrugs, tapping a few fingers along the table. “Never had any complaints.”
A rush of heat soaks through your skin. You swallow, like a cat fixated on a shiny object. “I meant getting it pierced.”
He shakes his head, grin widening. “Just a little pressure when they stick it in.” This man is so shameless… “Pain is an afterthought.”
You can’t help it, your mind falls back into the gutter, deep into a rabbit hole, curious to know what a tongue like that could do between your legs. 
“I’m guessing your ex-boyfriend didn’t have a tongue piercing either?”
You deflate, irritation pricking the fantasy. “Let’s change the subject.”
“Still hurting from it?” Upon first impression, you didn’t expect Eren to channel anything other than arrogance. His softer tone is a sudden switch that you don’t realize has chipped away at your resilience to veer away from the topic. 
“Never really hurt from it,” you say, indifferent, hoping to put an end to the subject afterwards. “My routine’s changed, so that sort of sucks. I got really comfortable.”
Eren hums. “That’s dangerous. Complacency. I’m going to assume he was very vanilla too?”
You roll your eyes.  
Eren feigns innocence. “What?”  
“I don’t want to talk about breakups, past relationships, none of that…”
“Fine, what about your body count?” He snorts, again, feigning innocence when you don’t answer. “He wasn’t your only one, was he?”
You roll your eyes. Like after, there were also men before Colt. Though they didn’t compare to the roster you’ve had this week. Maybe it comes with age, but your sex life had never been better. “I’m on Tinder, what’d you think?”
This seems to shift Eren’s mood. The snark stutters across his features into a scowl. “Oh…so you’re on Tinder to hook up only?”
“Didn’t say that.”
“You’re not looking for a relationship though.” He leans back, looking scorned. “Body counts going up then.”
What’s his problem? He’s the walking incarnate of a fuckboy, but the idea of you laying up with other guys he doesn’t even know spurs this sudden attitude. You’re strangers, both single, full stop. 
He pushes his tongue against his cheek. “Is there any guy on Tinder you haven’t slept with?”
You balk, brows rising. However, the corner of your lips curl, less angry and more amused. Someone's competitive... “Are you upset that you’re not one of them?”
You expect another taste of his attitude, for his frown to deepen. You do not expect his eyes to light up, like a dare igniting. 
“Oh, you’re a brat.” He tops his drink with a grin. “That’s in my pay grade.”
You shouldn’t entertain this, you already know. You’re both far too old to be playing games for strangers that only met to inevitably hook-up. You also know you shouldn’t be turned on by this challenge across the table, green eyes and tongue-pierced. Heat gathers at the center of your thighs anyway.
“I don’t mind taming a brat,” Eren continues. 
“You’re an expert?” you challenge. “Because I don’t know what brat you’re talking about—"
His laughter cuts you short. “Oh no, you’re a brat alright. Tell me more about those Tinder hook-ups. Any of them better than that boyfriend of yours?”
At his condescending tone, your brow twitches. At the dark lust in his eyes, your thigh twitches.
“You seem really obsessed with knowing about my ex,” you say. “Are you trying to compensate for something?”
Eren tilts his head, smirk stiffening, a crack in his arrogant resolve. “Trust me,” he recovers. “I don’t need to compensate for anything.”
It’s like a bait you can’t resist, wanting to see to that promise. But you restrain yourself. Regardless of your intentions for being there, you can’t feed into ego, his or yours. However, Eren does make it difficult the more he pricks and needles. 
Eren takes your silence as an invitation to barb you more. “If I were to guess, he sucked at getting you off. That’s a shame, you’re too pretty to deal with someone like that.”
You can’t explain it, but you find yourself taking Eren’s bait, defending Colt. “He knew how to love.”
“But he didn’t know how to fuck.” He folds his arms. “You do. That’s why you’re on Tinder.”
Your blood is flushed with heat and agitation. What’s worse it that you don’t mind it, but your ego refuses to let you give him that satisfaction. As much as you would like to hook-up with Eren, you might have to cut your loss instead. 
Finishing your drink, you pucker your lips, tingling with the burn of alcohol. Eren frowns as you rise to your feet. 
“Thanks for the drink. Have a nice night.” 
Spinning a heel, you hear Eren scoff, beckoning you to come back and when you don’t, he clicks his tongue. But you don’t turn back, nor do you flinch when you hear the scrape of a barstool around the call of your name. 
“Shit—I need to close my tab—”
You’re outside, crossing the back lot when footsteps haunt your own, rushing to catch up. “Wait!” Your name spills out of Eren’s mouth. “Wait! Just—wait!”
You peer over your shoulder with surprising level-headedness, but the pulse of your wrist skips, caught in Eren’s grasp. 
Silence ensues as Eren catches his breath, fingers wrapped along your wrist to keep you from escaping. A few rogue strands have come loose along his hairline and his previous scowl inside the bar remains intact, though it has smoothed out since finding you. 
“Yeah?” You level him with the same sharp glare earlier, patience thinning and heart pounding, charged with the adrenaline. “What is it, Eren?”
He leads you a few paces towards a parked black car that you assume is his. 
“You know, you’re keeping me right now,” you say. 
Eren’s eyes snap up. “Whoever they are, they can wait.”
You scoff. “Right, because I was about to run off to my ex-boyfriend, that’s who you think is waiting for me, hm?”
At the mention of Colt, the humor resurfaces in Eren’s face, though it’s pinched with slight irritation. 
Fueled by the tension, you egg Eren on, delighting in the way his hand tightens around your wrist. 
“Like I said, he knows how to love.”
Eren snorts. “Right, right, you mean he bored you.”
“That’s what you say."
“That’s what I know.” Eren’s eyes darken, dropping your wrist to run his fingers along the side of your stomach. “He was gentle, wasn’t he? Because that’s how you like them.”
You narrow your eyes, warmth flooding your neck and gathering between your legs. “You don’t know how I like them.”
Whether it’s the heat of the moment or ego, you refuse to tell Eren that he’s right. Despite how healthy of a relationship, you and Colt had, overall, he didn’t satisfy your sexual needs. Sure, you always knew that, as did your friends. But that doesn’t mean Eren needs to hear it too. With nothing else to say, you fall silent, bristling from Eren’s touch.  
“So, I’m right,” Eren breathes as he leans closer, hands trailing south, beneath your skirt. He flicks his gaze up, and you acquiesce by not pushing him away.  
He finds the gusset of your bodysuit and raises a brow. His surprise fades away in seconds. The crotch of your bodysuit is snapped aside, and you wince. 
Fingers glide along the slit of your pussy that you fight to stand. Eren hisses a laugh, pleased to find you soaked. “Did your boyfriend make you this wet?” A knuckle presses against your center, and you release a shaky breath. “Did he?”
You mewl, shaking your head. 
“Didn’t think he did,” Eren whispers, arrogance distinct. He replaces his knuckle with his thumb as two fingers rub your folds and a third prods your entrance. 
Words evade you, dying on your tongue and you can only manage a gasp when his thumb quickens its pace. 
“Who’s making you wet then?”
The added pressure on your clit makes you gush, and the victory in Eren’s smirk makes it harder to resist his allure. 
You sputter, “Y—you.”
“Hm?” Eren’s third finger inches inside of you like a phantom touch, close but not enough to push past your walls. “Who?”
“You…Eren.” You’re so starved for more stimulation, you don’t care about your ego anymore, gladly tossing it away in exchange for relief.  
A finger slides into your pussy. You moan, tilting your hips. 
Eren breathes a laugh, tongue swiping his lip. “That’s a good little pussy.” He rewards you with another finger, pumping with enough vigor that promises to unravel you within seconds. 
Your back flattens against the side of Eren’s car, chest rising with sharp gasps. Your hooded gaze fixates on Eren’s unshaken stare. His equilibrium combined with deft fingers bring you to the edge, your pleasure almost crests. 
The pace dials down significantly, and you’re rolling back down the hill of a stable mind. Eren’s fingers continue to pump inside of you at a much slower rhythm, the pressure on your clit has reduced to featherlight.
You blink up at him, bucking your hips to reignite the dying embers in your lower belly. 
Eren’s keen on taunting you, pressing onto your clit again with renewed pressure.
Breathless, you say, “Eren, don’t stop.”
He doesn’t listen, wearing a mask of mock confusion. “Oh. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need.” His fingers pull away. 
You snatch up his wrist, a desperate plea in your grip, leveling him with a yearning gaze. “Eren, I want you to fuck me.”
Victory pulls at the corner of Eren’s lips, his hand stroking your face in a delicate manner. “You want to get out of here?”
You rise on your tiptoes, giving him a heavy nod, hypnotized by the tension crackling from your bodies.
“I can take you back to my place. Give you the best rebound fuck of your life.”
You nod again, hasty and urgent, voice lost in the rising tide of desire. 
“You want that?” Eren husks.
You swallow. “Mhm.”
Eren erases the miniscule gap with a press of his forehead against yours, a taunting glimmer in his eyes. “Too bad.”
The car door flies open, and you’re tossed inside, hitting the leather of the backseat. There’s little time to process anything, and no time to adjust your skirt that’s rolled up your thighs. Eren climbs in, pushing the fabric up. 
His mouth is on yours, sucking the air from your lungs. When he pulls back, your head spins. 
“Tinder whores don’t get fucked in private.” Sliding down, your thighs are hitched over his shoulders. “They get fucked in a parking lot.” He flashes the stud on his tongue, moving his mouth to push it out.  
Your thighs quiver, hand digging into the leather seat.
Eren’s gaze falls to your pussy, ego resting on the edge of his smile. “Shit, you should see yourself right now. You’re dripping. You want to me to treat you like a whore. You need me to have a taste, huh?”
You would like to clapback, wishing for something snippy to spill out. But it would betray the anticipation flowing through your body. Whether Eren means it or not, you enjoy his overconfidence, aching at the degradation, growing wetter from it. Colt would never entertain such a concept. 
Pride nowhere to be seen, you nod, biting your lip; pleased and pliant to be the whore he makes you out to be. 
Eren’s brows rise, grinning, nonetheless. He yanks you closer by the hips, and for a moment you’re aware of the open car door. Although the lot is empty, anyone can walk by, sneak a peek over to witness what Eren’s preparing to do to you. And you moan despite all that. 
“Time to chase that drink down.” There’s a strain to Eren’s words like he’s in need to gulp down his drool. He doesn’t, letting his tongue hang and a dribble of saliva meets the slick of your pussy. 
“Oh—oh!” You lift your head, eager to get a visual of what you’re feeling. Eren’s piercing juts out, extending that the hard metal presses onto your clit. Your hips buck up to meet the stud again. 
Eren’s mouth slots over your pussy, dragging his tongue along the slit, tongue ring grazing between your folds. It’s a foreign sensation, sparking more pleasure when it meets your clit again with a flick of his tongue.
Eren comes up, eyes deeper, richer, and lecherous. His sharp inhale sounds more like a slurp. “Fuck…you taste perfect to me.” You whine as his tongue meets your folds again, tongue ring nudging your pussy lips. “Cum on my tongue, yeah?” It falls out like a desperate demand.
“Yeah…ah!”
Eren’s tongue slides into your entrance, pushing past the flesh. You can feel the tongue ring exploring your walls, not as distinct as you expected it to be. However, it’s Eren’s technique that has you staggering close to release. 
He’s ruthless, eating you out with an insatiable appetite. Two fingers press onto your clit, swiping in a stride that sparks your pulse. 
“Ah—Eren—” You grind against his hold, climbing that peak of ecstasy. You grab hold of Eren’s hair by the bun to keep yourself steady.
Eren swaps techniques, fingers replacing his tongue to massage the spongy spot inside of you while the tip of his tongue laps at your clit. The pressure from the stud and the curling of his fingers, set you free, the world unraveling in the backseat of his car as you cry out your release.
Eren’s fingers pull away, he slurps you up as your body twitches around him, recovering from the rush of pleasure.
Your mindless as he cleans you up, hand carding into his hair lazily. 
It’s like time’s been pulled from beneath you when he resurfaces, crawling over.
Tilting his head, he smirks. “Are you still there?”
You nod slowly, head floating. Words are robbed with Eren’s mouth on yours. His tongue slides along yours, stroking you with his stud. 
Breaking apart, you and Eren catch your breaths. 
At the sight of Eren’s dark gaze, your mind returns to you, punctuated with a telltale bulge pressed against your pussy.
Pleasure renews and you shudder.
“We’re not finished yet,” Eren says.
You lick your lips, brows furrowing together to fill the blanks you’re unable to verbalize. 
Eren’s amused by your silence. “Nothing to say to me? Does my little whore need a break?”
You bite your lip again, needing more friction between your legs. Trembling thighs wrap around him.
Eren takes your chin, leveling you with a look, overflowing with confidence. “Use your words…I haven’t fucked you dumb yet.”
You shake your head, watching a flame flicker behind Eren’s eyes, a challenge sparking there. “No, now, c’mon, just fuck me already before I change my mind.”
You both know you don’t mean it, but it doesn’t stop Eren from teasing you.
His arms cage you on either side of your head, voice dripping with arrogance. “I think I’ve done my part convincing you, angel.” 
Your pussy weeps at the pet name. 
In a flash, Eren pushes away, hunched over to reach in the center console. His teeth rip into the condom’s wrapper, watching you with hunger. He undoes his belt, shoving down his boxers in haste.
His cock springs free, pearly with precum. You want to get a glimpse of his manhood, but you’re pinned to the leather. He moves so quickly, doesn’t bother to stroke himself, already rock hard and ready to burst. The condom slips on, and he draws closer, yanking your thighs in. 
The tip of his dick kisses your entrance. The pressure alone is enough warning of his size. You meet his eyes and spread your thighs as far as they can go in the tight space. 
He falls forward again, elbows bent on the seat your head lays upon, green eyes fixed on your face. He pushes into you. “Gonna mold this slutty pussy to take me.” 
The stretch pushes air from your chest in a pleased moan, and he slides in until he’s fully sheathed inside of you.
He gives you no time to adjust, doesn’t waste any to flex his ego anymore. He fucks into you hard and erratic, hovering so close to your face.
It’s an oddly intimate view, you forget that you’re being fucked in the backseat of his car in a parking lot. However, you’re a sucker for eye contact and relish his hooded gaze, bewitched by the feel of you clenching around him. 
Labored breaths fill the backseat, steaming up the windows from the passion between your bodies. 
Eren grunts out your name. “Fuck! This pussy is still so tight—”
On cue, your walls clamp down on his girth, an animalistic sound rumbles in his Eren’s throat. 
“Fuck—fuck—” Eren’s tongue pushes past your lips. He pulls away with a smile, a surprising tenderness in his eyes, contrasting his rough nature.
Eren’s hand plants itself against the fogged window, and the other travels south, rubbing your clit in a hurry. “Want you to gush over my cock.”
You writhe like a spirit reawakened, clawing at the leather interior again, and that’s when you feel it—arching your back as you cum for the second time. 
Eren’s hips slam into yours, hot pursuit of his own release that tears through him a moment later, in a long-satiated groan. 
You watch him fall apart, eyes shut, brows pinched. His jaw hangs open, giving you another peek of the tongue ring.  
A moment passes. Eren’s fingers slip from the window, arm shaking from the impact of his climax, his body sinks. 
You press your hands against his chest to keep him from crushing you. 
Eren catches himself, hovering over you. “Thanks.” He blinks at the window with a grin. “Look at that. We fogged up the place.”
Your head tilts. Fingerprints streaked along the glass, clashing with the sudden chill that enters the backseat. 
You scoff lightheartedly, reeling from the throws of passion and the excitement of having tried something daring, something you’ve always fantasized. A carnal itch has been scratched. 
Car sex. You’re a new fan.
Eren gives you a lift home. 
You point out your complex. “That building just before the stop sign.” 
The car rolls to a stop at the front, the engine shutting off. 
Unbuckling your belt, you pull out your keys, hand on the door.
Eren takes your other hand, reeling your attention back as you turn to him. 
He’s smug, and you can’t deny that you feel the same way. Though what he says takes you aback. 
“Um…I didn’t mean any of that by the way. You’re not a whore.”
Your shoulders slacken with the release of a faint laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t take you seriously. I didn’t mind being called one.” You bat your eyes. “Or…fucked like one.”
The corner of Eren’s lip curled, widening with pride. “I’m up for another round, any time.” He kisses your knuckles. “I’ll text you.”
Like the other guys, Eren was not a bad lay. But with him, you don’t put stock into anything he says. You’re not naïve, too mature to act like a school-girl to his charms. He’s a womanizer at heart. 
A new notch on your belt is all. 
You open the door. “Sure, have a good night.”
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☻ masterpost☻ taglist: @moonmalice @daisynik7 @theragethatisdesire @squidalapobre @arlerts-angel @shepnicolo @porples-blog @jeanboyjean @fictional-d-supremacy
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pwncez · 7 months
Text
꒰ྀི 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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  ❤︎ — all rights reserved ! © pwncez !
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daisynik7 · 8 months
Text
test drive
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Pairing: ex-boyfriend!Eren x f!reader
Word Count: ~4.9k
cw: exes-to-lovers, a breakup scene (flashback) established past relationship, fluff, some angst, smut - car sex (cowgirl), blowjob, cunnilingus, face-riding, 69 position, sex with no condom, multiple orgasms, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, princess, baby)
Summary: You’re moving back to your hometown of Paradis after completing two long years of grad school in Marley. In desperate need of a car, you’re surprised to hear from your ex-boyfriend Eren, who graciously offers you one.  Author’s Note: Had this in my head for a while, brain is a little fried at the moment, but I just had to get this out! Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated! Header image found on Pinterest, mdni divider by @/mikeykuns.
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“Eren, do you think we should break up?”
The two of you are in your bedroom, finished packing the last of your luggage before you fly out to Marley tomorrow morning. It’s near midnight on the last day of summer. The windows are open, and the chirping of crickets is loud amidst the silence of the night air. He zips your suitcase closed, peering at you, confused. “What?”
It’s been the lingering question on your mind the past couple of weeks, but you were too afraid to mention it. Maybe you were hoping that the thought would go away on its own. You didn’t really want to break up. You love him. The idea of being apart scares you, though. The uncertainty, the unknown. Two years isn’t very long in the grand scheme of life, but who’s to say you don’t end up deciding to remain in Marley for good? Eren has already made it clear that he has no intentions of leaving Paradis. Would staying together be a waste of time when the future is so unpredictable?
You bite your lip, nervous to elaborate, voice timid. “I’ve heard that long distance is really hard.”
He stands up, crossing his arms over his chest. “So? We’ll get through it.”
“Will we, though? I’m going to be busy with school, and you’re starting your new job. Plus, Marley is so far away. When are we ever going to see each other?” 
He stares at you as if you’re sputtering nonsense. “We’ll make it work,” he answers, definitive. 
“It’s not going to be easy.”
He scratches his scalp, frustrated. “I don’t understand. Do you want to break up?”
You stay quiet, contemplating. When you don’t respond right away, he says, “You do, don’t you?” He sounds like he’s been betrayed, which in retrospect, he has been. By you, of all people. The person who’s supposed to love him. 
Breathing staggered, tears welling in your eyes, you murmur, “I just don’t know if we can do it.”
He begins pacing the floor, voice increasing in volume, rightfully upset. “You don’t know if you can do it. Me? I’m all in. You’re already giving up before we try.”
“I just don’t want either of us to get hurt!” you cry.
“What do you call this, then?!” he yells, tears rolling down his cheeks. “This fucking hurts! Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way sooner?”
“I don’t know! I wasn’t sure! I was scared.” You sob into your hands. “I’m sorry, Eren.”
He’s shaking his head erratically, fists bunched in his hair. “I can’t believe you’re doing this right now. After all we’ve been through. You don’t even want to give it a shot.”
You swallow hard, wiping snot from your nose. “We can try it out. Let’s try it out,” you plead with him, regretting it. 
“No. It’s too late now. You already set us up for failure. Since you’re not confident about us, then maybe this isn’t going to work out after all.” He sounds spiteful. Daggers piercing through your heart in the form of harsh words. And while you struggle for breath, drenching the fabric of your t-shirt, you can’t blame him for reacting this way. You spent an amazing summer together, and the night before you leave, you drop a grenade like this. What were you thinking?
“Eren,” you beg, sniffling
“I gotta go,” he mutters, grabbing his keys, avoiding your gaze. 
“Eren, wait!” you shout, following him out the room. Down the stairs. Through the front door. In front of his car. “Eren! I’m sorry! I take it back!”
“Have a nice life in Marley,” he spits out, getting into his car, slamming it shut, and reversing out of the driveway without another word. Headlights reflect off the shimmer in your eyes, watching him leave.
That’s the last time you saw Eren. The next day, you boarded your flight to Marley and moved into your new home. You tried to call him, text him, even pestered friends and family to urge him to reach out to you. He never did. And all the while, you still don’t blame him for reacting the way he did. 
The two of you were happy. You loved each other. And when an inkling of hardship reared its ugly head, you ran for it instead of facing it. There’s no way you could have predicted that your relationship would fall apart. In fact, there’s many times that you’ve considered how much stronger the two of you would have gotten if you did stay together. Distance makes the heart grow fonder. If you had believed that sooner, you wouldn’t be living with this remorse. 
It's been over two years since that day. Life continued, though it was tough not having Eren around anymore. He was always your biggest supporter, the anchor that kept you afloat. Grad school wouldn’t have been as stressful if you had him by your side, but you managed to scrape by. You made new friends along the way while maintaining your relationships from home. Mikasa and you would chat regularly, and on occasion, she would mention Eren’s name in passing. You received little footnotes of his life through her, but overall, he’s a stranger to you now. 
That being said, you’re shocked to finally hear from him after that fateful night two years ago. 
Following graduation, you secured a job in Paradis nearby your hometown. For now, the plan is to move in with your family until you save enough money to move out. Unfortunately, you don’t have car. So, in an unexpected turn of events, you sit in the rear of a taxi, on your way to Eren’s. 
Eren: Heard you’re home and you need a car.
Those were his first words to you after two whole years of radio silence. After telling you to have a nice life in Marley. Of course, you were stunned when his name popped up on your screen in the first place, even more so to see his offer to help you. Most likely he was informed about your current situation by Mikasa. Nevertheless, it shocks you that he wants anything to do with you. 
You actually want to meet with him. It may be no more than a business transaction, but to see him in the flesh will be nice. Will it fix what happened? Probably not. It’s worth a shot, though, for some peace of mind. Maybe this is his own way of telling you that he’s over it, and that the two of you can finally put this to bed. 
So, you arrange a time to meet at his place. He gives you an unfamiliar address; it seems he moved out of his parent’s house not long after he started working. Mikasa had mentioned that before. What she’s never disclosed with you is if he’s been dating. On your way to him, your belly begins to fill with dread. Could you handle seeing Eren with another woman? Living together, happily in love? You want him to be happy, but with someone else? Deep down, you still love him. You never dated anyone seriously during your time in Marley. No one even came close to him. He’ll never get back together with you, not after what happened. In fact, you’re positive he’s already found someone, a person who will appreciate him and love him for all he is. Someone who isn’t afraid. It’s better he’s with someone else; you actually hope you see that today, so that you can finally move on. 
The trip takes over half an hour. You recognize the route being taken; the same one you would take on the way to Paradis University, where you and Eren met for the first time. During freshman year, Mikasa, your roommate at the time, introduced you to him. The two of you became fast friends, even faster lovers. The spark was there the moment you shook his hand, the moment he gazed into your eyes, flashing that charming smile at you. It was casual at first, no labels, no strings attached. Two horny college kids fulfilling their sexual desires exclusively with one another. Kisses and sex soon became something more, something special. By the time you were sophomores, it was official: he was yours and you were his. 
The driver enters a quaint neighborhood, pulling up to the front of a modern apartment complex. Once you pay the fare, you step out, inspecting the building. Eren lives on the third floor; each unit has a balcony overlooking the neighborhood, the nearby cityscape in the near distance. It’s a beautiful location and your curiosity gets the best of you. Who is he currently sharing his life with? Do they watch sunrises together from their grand view, sipping their morning coffee in domestic bliss? Should it be you instead? 
Before you get carried away with your imagination, you retrieve your phone from your bag, texting him that you have arrived and are waiting outside. There’s no reason for you to head up into his apartment, right? You’re here to check out his car; that’s it. You can’t help thinking that it would be fun to check out. For research purposes, of course.
He replies quickly, mentioning how he’ll head down to you. You take a few deep breaths, mentally preparing yourself to see him for the first time ever since your bitter goodbye. Do you hug him? Keep your distance? Should you say anything personal or keep it strictly professional? All of these conflicting feelings are fighting with each other in your head. There’s so much you want to tell him: your life the last two years, how sorry you are for the way it ended, how much you miss him. At the same time, you want a clean slate, almost as if you’re strangers meeting for the first time. 
As he steps out from the lobby, you freeze on the spot, dazzled by his presence. What strikes you initially is how long his hair has gotten; it’s enough to put up into a small bun, with a few stray strands scattered around his face. His eyes are as brilliant as ever, barely visible dark circles underneath from age or stress, most likely the lather; it hasn’t been that long. There’s still that youthful charm about him, though. That will never fade.
He's dressed in a plain white t-shirt and black sweats pants, an outfit reminiscent of his college years, laid-back and casual. You’ve always liked this look on him, always found it sexy. Too many memories of you stripping this exact attire off him, hasty to make love in the twin bed of his dormitory. You try to shake these thoughts away as he approaches you with a rigid disposition, hesitant and a bit awkward. He clears his throat before saying, “Hey.” His hands are in his pockets as he greets you. 
You respond with a gentle smile. “Hi.”
This is going to be harder than you thought. 
~~~
Two years. That’s how long it’s been since they broke up, since he last saw her. Two whole fucking years. 
Eren didn’t want to break up. The thought never even crossed his mind. He was determined to be with her the rest of his life, of their lives. That’s why he got so upset when she suggested it. They spent an entire summer together, perfect in every possible way, and she had the nerve to ask that question the night before the big move? Do you think we should break up? He couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. They were supposed to love each other forever. 
It doesn’t excuse the way he behaved to her afterwards. Instead of discussing it like a mature adult, he exploded, too caught up in the storm of emotions raging in his head. His ego was hurt, pride shot down, heart betrayed. Following that night, Eren was too ashamed by the whole ordeal; he thought it’d be easier to ignore it and move on. 
Move on. Yeah right.
He replays those scenes constantly. Her pleas of We can try it out. Let’s try it out. I’m sorry! I take it back! ringing in his ears like a broken record, reminding him that if they talked about it, if he had just turned around to work it out, maybe they’d still be together. They’d be happy. It’s the biggest regret of his life; not fighting for her and letting her slip away. A fleeting moment of weakness and fear leading to their ultimate demise. A tragic ending to such a beautiful story. Can they ever get the happy ending they wanted? 
He tried to date other women; it never amounted to anything serious. Eventually, Eren gave up on the dating scene all together, focusing his energy on other priorities like his career and friendships. He was hoping that one day, he’d magically be over her.
When Mikasa informs him about her move back to Paradis, he knows immediately he needs to meet with her. Seeing her one last time might be the key to moving on once and for all. So, he finally decides to be mature and contact her, under the guise of giving her one of his cars. In his defense, he’s been meaning to sell it anyways. He never could quite let it go, though, considering it’s the car he drove all throughout college, with her. Late night drives to Maria’s Point, holding hands and kissing beneath the stars. Fast food runs at their favorite drive-thru, her feeding French fries to him from the passenger side, cruising through the empty streets with their favorite music blaring through the radio speakers. Even the backseat has seen plenty of action during those years, the foreground to many naughty trysts away from campus. Every corner of it carries a memory of her; that’s why he’s been so reluctant to let it go. He still loves her. But that’s all in the past. This car will be the final peace offering that will allow him to move on. He’s got it all planned out. 
What he’s not prepared for is the rush of emotions that flood his chest upon seeing her. This is definitely not part of the plan. 
When he greets her, she smiles at him, the same radiant smile he’s yearned for the two years of her absence. One that instantly warms his soul. He does his best to maintain his composure. Keep it together, he thinks to himself, stuffing his hands in his pockets while he clenches his fists, bursting at the seams. This isn’t part of the plan. 
He kicks the ground with his heels, fidgeting. “So…it’s been a minute, huh?” He does a mental eye roll to himself. Did he really say that? Idiot, idiot, idiot. 
She giggles, and he nearly combusts. How is it that a simple laugh can ignite every fiber of his being? He’s a fool for assuming he could get through this unscathed. “Yeah. It has. How are you?” Her expression is sincere; he always loved that about her, how intently she listens, how much she cares. Even after their harsh breakup, that sincerity remains. She’s making this much more difficult than he expected. 
He shrugs, nonchalant. “I’m okay. You?”
She mimics him, raising her shoulders. “I’m alright.”
He chews his lip nervously before asking, “Well, do you want to check out the car?” Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan, he reminds himself. 
She nods, following him to the parking garage to his designated spot. Her eyes widen when she sees it. “You want to sell me this?”
“Yup.”
She inspects it, mouth parted, surprised. “Wow. The Titan.”
He busts out in laughter, amused that she remembers the silly nickname they came up with freshman year. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
She turns to look at him, eyes twinkling, lips curled into a warm smile. “How could I forget?”
He swallows hard, saliva thick on his tongue. Fluttering in his core, tingling through his fingers. The question stumbles out quickly. “Want to take it out for a spin? A test drive?” 
Eren’s aware that this is dangerous territory. The two of them, enclosed in the small space of his car, memories in every crevice of the interior. It’s his chance to properly apologize for what happened. That’s how he justifies it, at least. Part of him also wants to recreate their past together. Riding in his car, fingers laced together on the center console, singing their favorite songs with the windows rolled down, wind blowing on their smiling faces. It’s infeasible; he doesn’t even know if she feels the same way. There’s that tiny portion of him that holds out hope; she did agree to meet him. That means something, right?
She contemplates for a moment. “Sure. Can you drive, though?”
“Still the passenger princess, I see.” 
“Some things never change, right?” She gives him a wink before stepping to the side of the car, waiting for him to unlock the doors. 
He gulps, thrilled and jittery at whatever adventure they’re about to embark on. In the corner of his mind, all he can think is 
Fuck the plan. 
~~~
You weren’t supposed to get in it with him. The idea was to meet him and do the exchange, simple as that. When you recognize the car, all the memories you shared flood into your mind. You let your emotions get the best of you; you want one more special moment with Eren. It’s only fair to your relationship to end it on a good note, right? You weren’t expecting anything more than closure, which was what the both of you needed. 
He doesn’t tell you where he’s driving to, but he doesn’t have to. By the time you’re on the highway, you watch the sun set in the distance from the rearview mirror. You pass by multiple signs, indicating Maria’s Point in x number of miles, the amount decreasing the closer you approach it. The two of you chat, condensing all from the past two years into a half hour car ride. You describe your experience in grad school, he talks about his full-time job. It’s cordial, like two old friends catching up after a while being apart. Except the both of you are fully aware of the elephant squished in the backseat of The Titan. Neither of you mention anything about it.
He drives up the familiar hill leading up to the panorama at the top of the cliff. This spot of Maria’s Point is often secluded, which was perfect for you and Eren back in the day. He parks away from the edge, the last rays of orange and pink hovering on the skyline. With a twist of his keys, he shuts off the ignition and it’s silent. Suddenly, after effortless conversation, you’re shy, unable to speak. 
Luckily, he does. “I actually want to talk to you about something important.”
You snap your seatbelt off, adjusting to give him your full attention. His hands remain on the steering wheel, drumming his fingers nervously. “I’m sorry for the way I acted that night.” He doesn’t need to elaborate; you know exactly what he’s referring to. You’re caught off guard from the apology, so you keep quiet, waiting for him to continue. 
After a deep breath, he explains, “I blew up, and I shouldn’t have. I got upset because I thought you had given up before we even tried. But I know you were scared; I was too. Regardless, it wasn’t right and I’m sorry. For that and for avoiding you after.” He slides his hands around the wheel, dropping them to his lap. His eyes are forward, avoiding you. 
When he doesn’t have more to add, you respond. “Thank you. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have blindsided you. I should have told you how I was feeling instead of ignoring it until the last minute. Like you said, I was scared, so I ran away from it without even giving it a shot. It wasn’t fair to you, and it wasn’t fair to us.” He’s focuses on you now, listening carefully as you talk. “Just so you know, I never blamed you for how you reacted. I deserved it.”
He shifts his body towards you, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t deserve that. I didn’t even say goodbye.”
You blink away the oncoming tears from your eyes. “It’s okay, Eren. We can do that now.”
The stillness that follows is concerning. He studies you with an unreadable expression, contemplating. Then, he leans closer to you, elbow resting on the center console, his breath tickling your cheeks, whispering, “I don’t want to say goodbye.”
You gravitate towards him, lessening the space between you, gazing at his lips. “You don’t?”
“I never wanted to in the first place.”
Drifting forward, you rest your forehead to his, the skin-to-skin contact rekindling the spark that burned so brightly not too long ago. “Eren.”
“I miss you,” he confesses. “Every fucking day.” 
His lips graze yours, eyes watching you, waiting. Unable to hold back any longer, you kiss him, melting into him seamlessly. The two years of remorse vanish in an instant, and you’re transported in time, as if you were never apart. You touch your palm on his chest, his racing heartbeat thumping against your fingertips. He slides his hand around the nape of your neck, cradling you gently, deepening the kiss. His lips are soft on yours, prudent and delicate, careful not to overbear you. 
You pull off to catch your breath, clutching at his t-shirt so that’s it’s bunched into your fist. “I missed you, Eren.”
He swallows loudly, eyes half-lidded in a daze. “I missed you so fucking much,” he mutters, driving his tongue inside your mouth, kissing you desperately now. He drinks you up like he’s dying of thirst, the only cure to his drought. You match him, opening wider, swirling your tongue with his. His lips trail to your neck, sucking on the pulse point beneath your chin.  
“Eren,” you moan, running your fingers through his hair. 
“I love hearing you say my name. Fuck,” he swears, licking at the spot. He marks you on the other side, nibbling lightly at your skin with his teeth. “Did you ever think about me?”
“Every day,” you admit, eyes closed as he moves to your ear, pinching your lobe between his lips. “And you?”
“All the time,” he answers. He breaks away, cupping your cheek tenderly in his palm. “I’m still in love with you. I love you.”
Your breath hitches, throat tight with emotion, though you manage to utter, “I love you too.”
He beams at you before suggesting, “Should we get out of here? Go to my place?”
Tugging at his collar, you shake your head with a smirk. “I can’t wait that long.”
Understanding what you’re implying, he suggests, “Backseat?”
You give him a wet smooch and a nod. He chuckles, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Are you that needy for me, baby? Can’t even wait to go home?”
Glancing at his lap, the evident bulge protruding from his sweats, you scoff at him playfully. “Don’t act like you aren’t either. Look how big you are already.”
He grins, exiting the driver’s side and quickly sliding into the backseat, spreading his legs wide, hoisting his shirt off to reveal his chiseled torso. “You’re right. I’ve been waiting two years, please don’t make me wait any longer.”
You follow him to the rear, shrugging your blouse and pants off hastily until you’re down to your underwear. He marvels at your bare figure, licking his lips while you kneel beside him. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, scanning you up and down, almost in disbelief. “Would you think about me whenever you touched yourself?”
Nestled to his lap, ass sticking out, you nod, rubbing your face on the erection straining against the fabric. “I only thought about you, Eren.”
“Fuck,” he groans, mesmerized. He pets you, brushing his thumb across your cheeks. “Me too, sweetie. No one makes me come the way you do.” He lifts his hips to slide his bottoms and boxers down his legs, exposing his hard cock standing stiff and pretty, glistening with precum leaking from the tip. 
You’re salivating, spit coating your entire mouth, hungry for his cock. Without wasting another second, you swallow him, surrounding him in your wet heat until he hits the back of your throat. He bucks up slightly, thighs trembling beneath you. “Fuck,” he swears, trailing your spine, gliding to your ass. “Always so good to me.” He slips beneath your panties, teasing your entrance. “Can I fuck you with these fingers? Please?”
You nod with his cock in your mouth, slurping the drool trickling on his shaft, bobbing on him. He slides one in, then another, pumping them in and out of you as you moan around his dick. He wriggles inside you, stimulating your sweet spot, gushing on his digits with your first orgasm. His follows immediately after, his load spurting onto your tongue, guzzling every last drop of him. 
You release him, turning over so your head is resting on his lap, peering up at his face. His hand is between your legs, rubbing the soft plush of your thighs, smiling down at you. He teases your clit, flicking his wet fingers on it, causing you to whine. 
“You still like it when I play with you like this,” he purrs, watching you twitch from the pleasure. “My good girl always comes so much for me.” He caresses your forehead gently, toying with your swollen bud. “Can you give me another one, princess?” Too many times do you remember him pleasuring you, sitting in the passenger seat, you gripping to his wrist, directing his hand to your pussy. Tonight is no different; he’s just as relentless, tapping away at you until your creaming for him once more. 
“I need to fucking taste you,” he growls, slipping his fingers past his lips, licking them. “Sit up, sweetie. Ride me while you make me hard again.”
It’s clumsy maneuvering in the cramped space, but eventually, you get into position. He’s below you, slurping at your sopping pussy as you’re bent over his cock, licking the head as you stroke him off. The windows begin fogging up, the air sweltering and humid. Your knee digs uncomfortably into the cushion, the other hangs off the edge of the seat, foot planted to the floor. Eren manages to fit his impressive stature, one leg angled and stretched towards the driver’s side, the other laid across the backseat, enough space for you to blow him while you ride his face. 
“I missed this sloppy cunt,” he muffles, spreading his tongue on you. He spits, smearing his frothy saliva across your clit, puckered around it, sucking. 
Once he’s hard again, you beg, “Fuck me, Eren.” You’re close to another climax and you’re desperate to come with him in you this time. “Please.”
He laughs, lifting you off, his face glossy with your slick, covering his nose, mouth, and chin. “Whatever you want, princess.” He sits up against the seat, legs splayed like a throne for you to sit pretty on. You straddle his lap, rubbing your pussy on his cock before guiding it into your entrance. 
You both drawl out, “Fuck,” kissing messily, arms wrapped around each other in a snug embrace. You ride him feverishly as he fucks up into you, gripping onto your hips tightly, bouncing you on his dick. You’re both sweating immensely, the temperature in the car sweltering, but neither of you mind it, too concentrated on each other’s orgasms, too addicted to the high you’re chasing together. 
“Fuck, baby. I’m so close,” he groans, picking up the pace, his thighs slapping lewdly against your ass.
“Come inside me, Eren. Fill me up,” you whimper, pushing the hair away from his sweaty forehead. 
“Yeah? You want it? Take it then. Take it sweetheart.” His eyes are shut tight as he shoots his load, thick cock pulsing inside you. You ride out your orgasm with him, scattering delicate kisses on his face. He grins, gazing at you with a hazy expression. 
“What’s that look for?” you ask, booping his nose. 
“Nothing,” he replies, cheeks rounded into a bigger smile. He squeezes your face between his palms. “I’m just happy. So unbelievably happy right now.”
You place your hands over his, leaning into his touch. “Me too.”
You stay comfortably like this for a few minutes, Eren cracking the windows open to let out some steam. You joke, “So, are you still going to sell me this car?”
He chuckles. “How about I give it to you. I was going to anyways.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. It was supposed to be a peace offering. But I like this outcome way better.”
“Me too. But I’m not going to just take it from you. Let me pay you for it.”
He tips your chin to look at you, grinning wide. “How about you move in with me instead?”
“What?” you giggle, unable to contain your smile, thrilled by the suggestion.
“Move in with me,” he repeats, nuzzling his nose to yours. 
“Isn’t this is a little too soon, considering we just got back together?”
He stretches his arms out, relaxing into the seat, smirking at you. “We already wasted two years without each other, I’m not wasting any more time.”
You scoot closer to him, kissing his cheek, then his lips. “Okay, you’ve got a deal.”
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